Chapter 787: Slaughter on the Coastline!

Chapter 787: Slaughter on the Coastline!

"Roar——!!"

A piercing roar cut through the rolling smoke and shattered the fear that clung to the battlefield.

A mutant, its body studded with shrapnel, struggled to rise from the twisted trench, grabbed the machine gun that had been knocked to its feet by the shockwave, chambered a round with a sharp "click," and propped it back on the edge of the crooked trench.

The beach was garrisoned by a full ten-thousand-strong force of mutants.

But these ten thousand mutants were not clustered together on the sand; instead, they had built a layered defense line stretching five kilometers deep.

The highly saline beach and soil were not conducive to the growth of Nago mycelium, so the Torch had not extended its "Kingdom" domain over this coastal area, leaving it to the mutants to defend.

Yet, though the blue-skinned mutants and the green-skinned mutants shared the same roots, they clearly did not get along.

"Get behind cover!" a mutant centurion bellowed roughly, tossing a blue-skinned fish-man out of the trench. "You, don't stay behind cover—get to the sea, hold them off!"

"Kah??"

The staccato rattle of gunfire came from behind, bullets whizzing overhead. The fish-man scrambled forward, stumbling and rolling, not forgetting to glare back fiercely.

But its pathetic state won no sympathy from its allies.

The greenskins laughed mockingly and fired another burst of bullets at the ground near its scaly feet.

Though the naval bombardment was fierce, it didn't kill many mutants outright.

These creatures were incredibly resilient, especially the few "Zombie Mutants" that had undergone bio-modification—they could even regrow their heads if they lost them.

And that wasn't all.

Compared to their brethren who had died on the Ten Peaks Mountain, these mutants were far better equipped.

From the homogeneous steel plates welded to their chests to the massive weapons spitting fire in their hands, everything was a masterpiece from North Island Heavy Industries during the Charas era.

It was clear that Charas had not bet on his own Marine Corps—or rather, he had never expected those picky fishermen to defeat the Alliance's soldiers on the battlefield.

He saw at once that the Navy was the Northern Federation's only reliance, and the only ones who could compete with the Alliance's soldiers on land were those green-skinned "brutes."

Rather than wasting scarce resources on upgrading the Marine Corps' gear, it was better to use steel and gunpowder to arm the mutant cannon fodder.

In truth, there was nothing wrong with this logic—letting the strong do the heavy lifting and the fearless go to die was one of the rules of society.

But unfortunately, besides their strength and fearlessness, the mutants had a fatal flaw that thwarted his plan.

These creatures had no discipline, and implanting chips in every mutant for direct control was too costly.

So, even after the civil war in the southern seas ended, Charas had never managed to import these "enemies of humanity" into the trenches of North Island to fill the lines—at most, he had used them on Sandy Island. These green-skinned beasts just stood on the coast of Death Coast, watching him lose the civil war.

Perhaps, more than the Torch Church, the Federation was the survivor faction that needed "salvation" from the Brahmin Province.

With the technical strength of the southern seas and the vast manpower of the Brahmin Province, even the Verlanders might have to tremble.

After all, clones lacked complete minds and were only cannon fodder at best, but the people there were living, breathing humans.

But reality had no room for so many "what ifs." Charas had already lost the civil war.

Now it was the turn of these vermin!

The leading amphibious armored vehicles were the first to hit the beach, arriving at the battlefield almost on the edge of the artillery fire.

"First Battalion has landed on the beach!"

"Charge! Crush them!"

"Oorah!"

The comm channel rang with battle cries full of fighting spirit, accompanied by the roar of the "Short-nosed Crocodile" amphibious armored vehicles' turrets.

The 37mm rapid-fire cannons boomed, shell casings clattering and clanging as they were ejected from the side of the turret, spitting long streams of tracer fire into the trench lines on the beach!

Against 37mm armor-piercing incendiary rounds, the mutants' flesh and blood were nothing—pierced through man and armor alike. Every flash of the cannon brought a storm of blood and gore!

In just a single moment of contact, dozens more mutants were pinned down in the trenches.

Suffering heavy casualties, the mutants were roused to ferocity, roaring as they thrust their weapons over the cover to return fire at the players landing on the beach.

20mm heavy machine guns spat tongues of flame, but against the front armor of the "Short-nosed Crocodile" amphibious vehicles, they were like scratching an itch, leaving only scratches and dents—otherwise useless.

Only one armored vehicle was unlucky enough to have its cannon barrel damaged by a burst of fire, but that didn't stop it from continuing to advance onto the sand.

"Use this!"

A mutant bellowed, grunting as it hauled a massive weapon from a wooden crate.

It was a gun over two meters long, its muzzle as thick as an adult's wrist.

It poked the muzzle over the cover, aimed at the nearest armored vehicle, and pulled the trigger hard.

"Boom——!"

Flame exploded forward, and the massive round struck the front armor of the "Short-nosed Crocodile" in an instant. A searing metal jet poured inside, crippling the engine at the front of the hull.

The armored vehicle lost power instantly, black smoke billowing from the vents on the front of the hull.

Seeing the attack work, the mutant cheered excitedly, pulled a black "little potato" from the crate, and prepared to do it again.

But just as it ducked down to look, a few sharp cracks swept over its head.

Without even a grunt, the mutant toppled straight to the ground.

Several high-explosive shells, guided by the muzzle flash, poured into the trench, and the raging shrapnel turned it into a sieve in an instant.

At the same time, the previously hit "Short-nosed Crocodile" armored vehicle's tires slammed into a reef, finally coming to a complete stop. The gunner reluctantly ceased fire and fired smoke grenades forward.

The mutants on the beachhead clearly noticed this, and machine gun muzzles swung around, stitching the vehicle's hull with a steady rattle, long tracers slamming into the armor with a clanging din.

The comm channel was a cacophony of noise.

"Damn it!"

"Recoilless rifle!"

"Fuck—has that thing already been delivered?!"

"Probably made it themselves... Some experts from North Island were sent to Torch territory to assist with research."

"Where the hell did they get a factory?!"

"Engine's dead!"

"Dismount!"

"No one's down!"

"Is there or isn't there?!"

"There is no 'No One'! The ID is 'No One'!"

"Fuck, what kind of stupid names do you all pick?"

"@%#! I just got knocked out, I'm not dead yet!"

A disabled vehicle on the beach was a sitting duck, and everyone knew they couldn't linger here.

The rear hatches of the vehicle swung open quickly, and players in exoskeletons, covered by neighboring armored vehicles, evacuated with several crew members from the cabin.

Bullets that pierced the smoke screen whizzed over everyone's heads, occasionally striking the ground beside them.

Yet not a single person felt fear; instead, excitement was written on every face.

This game is damn realistic!

Only the squad leader was shouting himself hoarse.

"Hurry! Don't just find cover where you are! Charge to the trenches ahead! Everyone move!"

In truth, for the mutants crouching in the trenches, it was no easy task to hit players clad in exoskeletons with clumsy machine guns and rifles, all while under the bombardment of heavy artillery and the strafing of armored vehicles.

Though they possessed tenacious vitality and regenerative abilities, that didn't mean the shockwaves from exploding shells had no effect on them.

They too would have their brains rattled, their vision go dark, and because their minds were already underdeveloped, the shelling only made them more chaotic and frenzied.

Nor was that all—the armored vehicles that had landed on the beach weren't the players' only reliance.

Most of the exoskeletons fielded by the Burning Legion were pre-war "Type Five" police models, whose polymer chest plates could even withstand two or three heavy machine gun rounds.

And since most of these players were Awakened, unless they were hit in a vital spot, even taking a couple of shots was like nothing to them.

In just a few breaths, the players forced to dismount had caught up with the advancing armored vehicles, using them as cover as they pressed forward.

Three hundred meters vanished in an instant, and the Alligator armored vehicles soon reached the edge of the trenches, successfully breaching the mutants' first line of defense.

Besides those who had to dismount, other players from the Burning Legion's First Battalion also leaped out of the vehicles, charging into the zigzagging trenches for close-quarters combat with the mutants lurking inside.

"ROAR!!"

A towering zombie mutant brandished its large-caliber rifle, swinging it like a club at Murderous Dagger, who had just jumped into the trench.

The latter ducked low to evade the blow, drew a short axe from his chest plate, and swung upward, striking the mutant square on the neck and cleaving its green head clean off.

The mutant stood motionless for a moment, then its shoulders twitched, and from the severed neck sprouted fleshy red tendrils, visibly extending upward.

Seeing this, Murderous Dagger was utterly stunned.

"Holy shit! Heads really do grow back?!"

He'd thought the guys on the northern front were just bragging—this thing had some serious tricks!

The "zombie mutant" in the midst of regrowing its brain wasn't idle. Gripping its rifle in one hand and a short blade in the other, it flailed wildly in the trench like a madman, slashing and stabbing.

It had no eyes, and apparently no hearing or smell either, fighting purely on memory of its surroundings and instinct.

Murderous Dagger hastily retreated to avoid two lethal strikes, pulled out a white phosphorus grenade, bit open the ring, and tossed it onto the mutant's half-formed brain.

A blinding white light flared, and burning crimson flames drenched the mutant.

A sizzling sound filled the trench with the smell of roasting flesh.

The mutant's body convulsed as it staggered backward, its twisted form a silent scream of agony.

"Be a human in your next life."

Murderous Dagger picked up the large-caliber rifle the creature had dropped and fired two shots into its chest and lower body.

"BANG!!"

Shreds of flesh and blood were torn apart by the shrapnel.

The horrific wounds finally exceeded the zombie mutant's regenerative limits, and the monster writhing in flames ceased its struggle, crashing heavily to the ground.

Having dispatched one target cleanly enough, Murderous Dagger discarded the scavenged rifle, grabbed his own weapon, and continued advancing along the winding trench.

His teammates' voices came through the comm channel.

From the fact they still had time to shoot the shit, it seemed they were all doing fine.

"Trench A-07 secured. Captured a recoilless rifle... should be the experimental model we found in the Beidao Heavy Industries warehouse."

"They finished the final design... but it's not very smart—the muzzle flash and smoke when firing are way too big."

"Heh... I noticed that early on. They've got no army tradition at all; only their electronics and shipbuilding are somewhat decent."

"You sure it's just 'somewhat'?"

"Cough, of course I'm judging by wasteland standards. Game and reality are two different things."

"Goddammit! Can't these mutants even dig a proper trench?"

"Holy shit, booby trap—"

A boom echoed, and a flash of fire erupted in the trench, with a vague silhouette flying into the air.

Murderous Dagger quickly looked over, just in time to see the mangled body hit the ground.

The squad leader's voice, callsign "Mistaken Fate," roared over the comm.

"We've lost a family member! One down!"

"Let me check if he needs finishing off," said "Half-Year Wasted," eagerly climbing out of the trench and creeping toward the remains, his tone laced with schadenfreude.

"...Everyone be careful! Gear ain't free—damage it and you lose points!" Murderous Dagger cursed with a face full of exasperation, then switched channels to report the frontline situation to the rear. "First Battalion has taken the beach! Requesting further orders!"

After a brief crackle of static, Old White's voice came through.

"Coordinate with the armored units and push forward. Initiate Phase Two of the offensive!"

Murderous Dagger replied with renewed vigor.

"Sir!"

The family member blown up by the booby trap was just a minor incident; most of the frontline players were having a smooth fight.

The First Battalion's three mechanized infantry companies and one amphibious armored company had successfully torn a gap in the beach, annihilating nearly a thousand mutants.

Temporary battle losses totaled twenty dead, including those with injuries that wouldn't heal within three days.

A battalion taking out a regiment was par for the course for the Burning Legion, the Alliance's "rapid-response elite."

After a brief rest, the First Battalion immediately launched their second offensive, leaving the position for subsequent landing teammates.

Fixed-wing drones circling overhead provided intel guidance for the frontline forces while recording the entire battle, transmitting footage not only to the rear command post but also to the bridge of the Harpoon-class cruiser.

The Alliance officers were already accustomed to the Burning Legion's combat prowess.

But Duke Nihark was seeing these soldiers in action for the first time.

Staring at the holographic screen, his face turned pale, beads of sweat the size of soybeans trickling down his forehead, his eyes filled with terror and disbelief.

So this is the Alliance?

The Burning Legion...

That was the unit that had defeated him before!

He'd lost too quickly last time—thrown into a cell before he even woke up—so he'd always thought they'd only won against the Golden Port city guard by surprise.

Now it seemed that even if the city guard and the Gray Wolf Army had set up a defensive line on the shore waiting for these guys to charge, they probably couldn't have stopped them.

He wasn't sure if that unit had gone all out in that battle.

But at least now he finally understood why Arayan had lost—

No, more importantly, how could anyone possibly win against such an opponent?!

Nihark swallowed hard, his eyes involuntarily drifting to the porthole, gazing at the destroyers outside.

Obviously.

One battleship alone is clearly not enough...

The Empire must build a fleet just like the South Sea Alliance! This fleet must have integrated combat capabilities from search to destruction, only then can they prevent the Alliance from landing and fighting them on land!

No—

One fleet is not enough; he had to find a way to buy the shipyard on North Island!

Li Minghui glanced at the "wealthy and mysterious" old friend beside him, watching his stunned expression, and a smile involuntarily tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Look at this uncultured look, still sticking a scallion up his nose to pretend to be an elephant.

Not short of this little money?

What does "not short" even mean?

He had finally managed to show off, and Li Minghui felt a wave of satisfaction, but the upturned corner of his mouth didn't last long before it suddenly drooped.

Wait.

Could this pig have been startled awake?

Just as he was thinking this, Nihake looked at him with fervent eyes.

"Um... Mr. Li, there's a question I'm not sure if it's convenient to ask."

Li Minghui asked cautiously.

"What question?"

"This North Island shipyard... would you be willing to sell it?" Worried that Li Minghui might suspect his motives, Nihake quickly coughed and put on a friendly smile, "Of course, we mainly need it for fishing..."

Li Minghui stared blankly at this duke who was so obviously trying to cover up, and couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth.

Hasty.

It seems worrying about the pig waking up was unnecessary...

...

As the Alliance's second phase offensive began, the South Sea Alliance fleet also raised their gun muzzles, starting to bombard the second defensive line of the Torch Church mutant forces.

At the same time, the second wave of landing craft was lowered from the holds of large landing ships, pushing through heavy waves toward the coastline.

Also setting off were twenty Cloud Dragonfly ornithopters.

These rocket-pod-carrying aircraft, like dragonflies skimming the water, flew close to the wave crests toward the beach.

Just then, the fishman troops lurking beneath the sea surface suddenly attacked, with harpoons leaping up from the turbulent waves, shooting at the low-flying Cloud Dragonflies!

Those blue-skinned mutants thought that if they aimed at the "big dragonfly's" wings, they could shoot it down into the sea, but they clearly underestimated the ornithopter's agility.

The Cloud Dragonflies executed a smooth series of side maneuvers, dodging the chain-towed harpoons with incredible flight paths.

"Crack—!"

The blue-skinned mutants hidden among the waves let out angry shrieks, watching the Cloud Dragonflies climb higher but powerless to do anything; some dove back under the surface, while others chased after the landing craft, trying to sink them.

However, what these fishmen didn't expect was that the players had already seen through their plan.

When the first wave of landing craft came ashore, they didn't see these guys; many players wondered where they had gone, only to realize they were waiting for the second wave!

Killing a blue-skinned mutant trying to climb onto a landing craft, a player crouched on the landing craft shouted into the radio.

"First Company, First Battalion of the Jungle Corps, it's your turn."

A muffled voice came through the communication channel, accompanied by gurgling bubbles.

"Roger!"

At the same moment the words fell, mechanical crabs lurking on the seabed in the shallow waters turned on their searchlights, revealing their hideous armored shells.

The "fishmen" fighting near the surface with the landing craft did not know that underwater rifles were already aimed at them.

By the time they finally noticed the light rising from the seabed, it was already too late.

Prostrate Model Worker: "Open fire!!"

With that command, streams of dense bubbles pushed spindle-shaped bullets toward the fishmen active near the surface.

Without any defense, the fishmen in the water were instantly mowed down by the hail of bullets, the dark red blood almost dyeing the entire water red.

Discovering the attack from the seabed, the fishmen panicked and turned direction, rushing back toward the depths.

And at that moment, the second wave of attack from First Company, First Battalion of the Jungle Corps had already reached their faces.

Hoarse screams rose one after another, and in an instant, there was another bloody storm!

At the same time as the Torch Church's fishman forces launched their attack, the mutants on shore also launched their first counterattack.

Although their communications were paralyzed by the EMP strike, the battle had been going on for so long that mutants on other defensive lines had obviously discovered the gap the Alliance had torn in their line.

Two thousand-man teams split into two groups: one part attacked the Burning Corps' First Battalion, which had crossed the beach and penetrated deep into the hinterland, while the other attacked the Second and Third Battalions, which were establishing a temporary port on the beachhead, along with engineer units and independent players.

Flying tracer rounds drifted like willow catkins over the beach, and players on the periphery even saw the tank they had previously encountered in the North Island Heavy Industries warehouse.

The Alligator amphibious armored vehicle was clearly no match for this thing.

But the Alliance had more than just armored vehicles; high in the sky flew "Thunder" and "Lightning," and low in the sky flew a full twenty Cloud Dragonflies... not to mention the naval guns floating on the sea, just waiting for these live targets to show up under the drone's lens.

A four-meter-tall tank, whether in the game or reality, looked like a monster, but it was still as fragile as paper in front of a 150mm naval gun—almost one shot, one kill.

Even if the shell didn't hit directly, the blast wave could shake the hastily assembled hull apart.

The two thousand-man teams that surged in like a tide were shattered in less than half an hour, leaving behind a mess of broken limbs and scrap metal as they fled in defeat.

Standing on the beachhead position, Old Bai, while commanding the frontline troops through his tactical helmet, also pulled the trigger of his bolter, shooting down the mutants who were putting up a desperate resistance.

Watching the flames of resistance grow weaker, the battle seemed to be nearing its end.

Just then, a report from the First Battalion came through his communication channel.

"...This is First Battalion. After penetrating deep into the enemy position, we discovered a settlement ruin, about 6 kilometers from our landing point, hidden in the gap between two hills, covered with dense forest."

"We found traces of mutant activity there, but our drones can't see the specific situation inside... I want to send a small team to search that area."

Old Bai quickly glanced at the map, confirming the location marked by Killdagger.

Just from the map, that place did seem like it could hide something.

It took him only two seconds to make a decision, and he immediately gave the order.

"Request approved."

A resolute reply came from the other end of the communication channel.

"Yes!"