This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 565.1: Dance Of Blood And Fire

Excluding Make Me’s underlings, the final number who decided to stay was 23. They included the 20 heavy infantry of the Jungle Corps, and the three gods of Dust Town.

Ordinarily, if the numbers wasn’t wildly different, then given the Mutant Humans’ HP bars, base defenses, and recovery, humans had virtually no chance at all.

Even a 500 vs 500 would be brutally difficult to win, let alone 23 against 500.

It was especially so in a straight up fight on an open field. There was almost no room to maneuver, unlike guerrilla warfare where they could kite and pull.

As Old White had said, it was no different from suicide.

But whether rat or lizard, their eyes burned with battle fervor. They felt no fear for the slaughter to come.

Death was only a homecoming! They were deathless heroic spirits.

Walking up to Old White, Garbage, clad in a Hunter exoskeleton, spoke solemnly. "Those residents, I’ll be entrusting them to you."

Houses could be rebuilt, so long as those who remembered them still lived.

Old White nodded seriously. "I promise. When you come back, your believers will still be there, every last one of them."

Garbage grinned. "Hey, I’ll hold you to that."

With that, he waved a claw and strode off to join the brothers of the Jungle Corps.

The two groups split up, heading in the opposite direction of the main force.

Watching Garbage’s towering back, Qin Baitian hesitated for a moment and finally couldn’t help asking, "My lord... Will the Great Stage God not come with us?"

Eyes narrowed toward the direction the group had gone, Old White said, "He is going to fulfill his mission. You will see him again."

Qin Baitian sighed softly with a tight smile.

He was old, but not senile.

No matter how strong the ‘god’ was, there were 500 Mutant Humans. In all his years, he had heard the tales. One Mutant Human had butchered half a village.

As for seeing him again...

It sounded like they were comforting him, and it was better than nothing.

...

Amid the mighty army, Oge sat in an open-top jeep, staring unblinking to the north of the tribe.

In those bloodthirsty pupils, hatred flickered.

Oru was his elder brother, and his father.

According to the old priest who delivered them, they were born in the same tent, perhaps even to the same human mother.

That was exceedingly rare among Mutant Human tribes.

Few humans lived that long.

Even awakeners mostly died in the 7th or 8th year, led to the kitchen by the butchers.

Perhaps because the human who bore him was strong in her own right, he could clearly feel how different he was from those who came into this world with him from other mothers.

Stronger muscle, quicker reflexes, a tougher frame... At seven years old he had won the favor of a leader and was assigned to the same hunting team as his brother, becoming a tribal hunter.

Maybe it was because they were related by blood, his brother looked after him especially, taking him along in everything.

His first hunt, his first time eating the flesh of humans, his first village slaughter, his first commendation from the chief and the honor of a bestowed name, the cybernetic augmentations he received... One could even say every major event of his life had happened with Oru’s guidance.

But Oru was dead. His manner of death was unspeakably miserable.

When he saw that corpse, he wished he could grind his teeth to powder, and swore he would use the cruelest means to torment the human who killed his brother until the very last breath.

So when he learned from the chief that his brother’s killer was hiding in a settlement called Dust Town, and that he was permitted to slaughter that village, every cell in his body trembled with excitement.

He seemed to already see those cowardly, scrawny two-legged livestock groveling at his feet, shaking.

Ah, how ugly they would be...

His pupils burned not only hatred and rage, but a sheen of excitement.

"Faster!" Oge bellowed in his rough voice.

The mutant at the wheel, receiving the order, grabbed the radio hanging from the dash and yelled with glee, "Oge says faster!"

Coarse roars echoed across the channel.

"Oge!"

Wheels spun faster on vehicle after vehicle. The Mutant Humans on foot huffed and pounded after them. Spit flew from their mouths in strings, and within minutes they were panting and falling behind.

That was basically every mission.

There were always a few who couldn’t squeeze onto a truck and couldn’t keep up with the column, who wandered off who-knew-where, sometimes dragging back an unlucky man or woman to prove they weren’t slacking or deserting.

But none of that mattered.

The Qi tribe had never relied on those stragglers with jelly legs, but on true warriors!

Unfortunately, those green beasts failed to notice that a fully armed band of players lay in ambush along their only route.

...

In the forest.

Watching the massive column on the plain, Piltover Paratrooper, binoculars in hand, couldn’t help clicking his tongue. "Damn... How are these beasts running so fast?"

On Earth, the 42 kilometer marathon record had only just broken the two hour mark, but for Mutant Humans, that pace looked like basic stuff.

With powerful hearts and lungs, their endurance was terrifying. 50 kilometers... Four-fifths of it was done in under two hours!

And that was over trackless wildlands.

From the drone’s top-down view of a great plume of dust, Prone Model’s expression was grave. "They’re slowing down."

Piltover Paratrooper frowned. "Have they spotted us?"

Little Bookworm shook his head.

"No. It should be standard tactics. They are saving stamina before contact... Not sure if they’ll halt briefly to rest." He paused, then continued. "If they don’t rest and keep pushing forward, now is the best time to hit them."

"Mm..." Midnight Pubg nodded steadily and raised his right fist. "Proceed as planned."

Excitement kindled in many eyes, and the comms filled with a crisp, unified reply.

"Copy!"

The hunt began!

20 men split into five squads, quickly sliding through the jungle to points ahead of the Mutant Humans’ path, fanning out in arcs centered on the road.

One anti-tank squad moved up. Four players, including the squad leader, pulled out RPG launchers and took aim at the moving convoy.

Quietly waiting for the targets to drift into range, Midnight Pubg gave the order.

"Fire!"

At the command, the four players squeezed their triggers almost in unison. Rockets trailed thick white plumes as they howled toward the convoy.

There was hardly time to react.

The lead truck ate a direct hit. Blossoms of flame burst through the line, and three trucks were disabled on the spot.

Caught off guard, a dozen trucks either slammed their brakes or swerved hard, bunching into a knot on the open ground.

If marauders had suffered such an ambush, half their morale would have evaporated, and the stunned masses would have balked.

But with crazed Mutant Humans, it was another story entirely.

A dozen of them were thrown from trucks by inertia. After skidding face-first in the dirt, they scrambled up swearing.

Those jammed in the contorted vehicles tumbled out in a jumble, grabbed weapons any which way, and sprinted for the forest.

They were like animals, except the weapons in their hands were big-bore assault rifles.

"Charge!! Kill them all!" Oge, riding shotgun, roared, slapped the driver’s shoulder, then backhanded the roof gunner out of the mount, lunged into the back, tore the gun away, and raked the forest with a savage burst.

Scalding brass clattered the vehicle. The muzzle flash lit his bared gums and contorted facial muscles, and thick tracers wove a glowing net over the plain.

He howled like a beast. "Die! Hahaha!"

The hail of bullets hissed into the trees, splintering thick trunks into jagged fragments. The caliber was at least .50 by the look of it!

The players, after firing a salvo, ducked low and ran. They popped two more RPGs, then stowed the launchers, drew their XB-1 Howler Cannon Guns, and flicked the safeties off.

Seeing everyone in position, Midnight Pubg bellowed and squeezed the trigger first.

"Fire at will!"

Muzzle thunder rippled through the woods, thick tongues of flame lashing out from the trees.

The locust-swarm of rounds slammed into the charging Mutant Humans, flipping the front-runners head over heels.

The huge recoil gouged a groove underfoot. Prone Model, bracing the Howler, chattered with excitement even as his teeth rattled. "Holy crap! The punch on this thing was insane!"

Hearing two bangs per shot was no lie!

The bolt ignited again mid-flight, trailing a little comet’s tail into the target, then, on impact, its striker triggered and a magma-hot metal jet punched through!

It barely felt like an assault rifle! It was more like a select-fire rocket!

A charging mutant sentry took one center-mass and a blossom of fire blew out his back. He didn’t even have time to scream before he hit the ground dead.

Mutant heavy infantry in steel chestplates didn’t fare much better. Thumb-thick steel that laughed off rifle rounds may as well have been paper before the metal jet.

Even Oge, in the jeep, was rattled by the weapon’s power.

A round smacked into the aft quarter of his ride; the flaring jet danced through the rear seats, making two Mutant Humans howl as it seared them and even leaving a scorch on his back. Cold sweat beaded on his brow. "Damn it! What the hell was that?!"

It was the first time he’d seen something that could one-shot any one of them!