This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 567.1: Two Paths
The drumbeat of explosions and gunfire had stopped at some point.
Before long, black smoke drifted up from the direction of Dust Town.
The residents hiking along the mountain path involuntarily halted, slipped off their packs, and prostrated themselves facing the town.
"Great Stag God above..."
"May Giant Rat God be safe."
"Emperor, save us."
From that jumble of prayers, it wasn’t hard to tell how haphazard their faith was.
But the hearts praying for their warriors’ safety held not a shred of falsehood.
Seeing that wisp of black smoke as well, Zhang Zhengyang, with his hands tied with rope to an ox cart, felt a surge of vindication and even a little secret delight.
His esteemed bishop truly had not abandoned him!
Their allies had sent people to rescue him!
He did not let that thought show on his face. He shrank his head and kept meekly quiet, afraid the survivors would notice him and vent their anger on him.
Watching the residents prostrate on the ground and pray, Old White, who was walking at the head of the column, stopped and tapped a finger against his helmet.
"Rest for 10 minutes."
"We’ll wait for them."
They were already more than 20 kilometers from Dust Town, with forest and hills that vehicles could not cross between. There was little worry of being overtaken.
Thanks to the Jungle Corps brothers buying them time, they had enough time to relocate to a safe region.
After three to five minutes, the residents of Dust Town rose from the ground one after another, patted the dust from their clothes, and picked up their bundles again.
Their mood was low, with little conversation.
But in their eyes, Old White could see something besides sorrow and aimlessness.
He had seen that same thing before in the eyes of Dawn City’s residents...
"Move out." Old White swung his right fist.
The relocating column stretched like a long snake through the mountains, winding forward toward a resettlement point hidden among the ridges.
At the same time, a silver, small fixed-wing drone ended its circling and glided along its preset track to a spot near an abandoned farm to the north.
Two Guard Corps recon soldiers waiting there quickly moved in, folded and recovered the drone, and loaded it onto a Viper transport parked near the farm.
Two hours later.
The drone’s storage was delivered to Boulder Town Arms Industry Tower. Combat footage and weapon data were retrieved and uploaded to the servers.
Top floor, Boulder Town Arms Industry Tower.
Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, Eberts watched the combat video from the beginning to the end.
After two or three seconds, he sighed and pressed the close button, murmuring to himself. "I have to admit, even ugly organic beings occasionally show a highlight beyond mere dying..."
"It’s beautiful."
According to the computer’s simulations, the Iron Wall exoskeletons and the Howlers raised a human soldier’s combat power to roughly that of a Mutant Human.
That is, when both sides used infantry armor, firearms, and similar tactics and numbers, a one-for-one exchange ratio was roughly in line with the modeled results.
After all, Mutant Humans were the by-product of the technological singularity, their very existence was a triumph of bioengineering.
Even if the Jungle Corps troops were all awakeners, achieving a three to one kill ratio without external support was already quite a feat.
However... The final exchange rate reached one to ten!
Eberts had no doubt that none of Boulder Town’s corps, even at their peak, could have fielded such combat effectiveness.
20 against 500...
Even a squad of X-16s would likely be overrun in minutes.
"The data are too pretty and thus lose reference value... But your valor deserves to be kept forever by the servers."
He traced a finger against the window, dragging the combat logs and all the metrics into an archive folder.
It had been the XB-1 Howler’s first battlefield.
And the most staggering new-weapon trial he had seen in a century.
Thinking that those guys had all died, an unusual trace of regret crossed Eberts’s face.
"Though you probably won’t get to hear this, I still want to tell you."
"Your deaths had far more value than most organic beings."
He had not expected New Alliance soldiers to be so good at close-quarters brawling. His original recommendation had been to pull back at the ten-meter safety distance.
Maybe he should also equip them with chainsaws or other melee gear...
...
[Side Quest: Cannon Gun trial Complete]
[Requirement: Engage a mutant unit of 100+ points of strength]
[Eberts: Your deaths had far more value than most organic beings. I greatly look forward to our next cooperation!]
[Rating: S+]
[Reward: ...]
At the same time the Jungle Corps players received their quest rewards, the Wasteland Online official site was in an uproar.
Having been gloriously logged off, Garbage pecked at his keyboard, vividly describing how perilous things had been.
He included how he went ham amid the green-skin muscleheads, slaughtering left and right, and how he took the giant Mutant Human’s head in the crowd.
Listening to his abstract play-by-play.
Head in the left hand, another head in the right...
Someone who didn’t know better might think he wiped an entire 100-man unit.
Finally someone couldn’t help asking how many in total, Garbage, being an honest guy, told the plain truth.
Hearing he killed ‘only 20’, the replies exploded into a long trail of boos.
This_lord_is_arrogant_what_can_you_do: Heh, bragging when you only killed 20? When my bro went to Southeast Asia for business back in the day, he accidentally ran into a 100-man drug gang. All those guys were tall as trees, carrying AKs and M79s, and he carved through them with a single knife, turns out they were the local warlord’s men.
Garbage: Tsk, your hundred druggies wouldn’t amount to a chicken on the Wasteland, marauders might not even lose to them!
Irene: You lost the moment you started debating with Brother Arrogant (sarcasm)
Elf Wang: Am I remembering wrong? Wasn’t his bro a spec-ops soldier on a secret southern mission? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Makka Pakka: Hahahaha! I remember that too!
Irene: So the question is: what exactly did This_lord_is_arrogant_what_can_you_do’s ancestors do for a living? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
As usual, This_lord_is_arrogant_what_can_you_do dropped a line and ran, never giving anyone the chance to drag him into a debate, making people suspect he was thumbing his phone under the table somewhere.
Back to the thread... Unlike cloud-gamers, most players had seen firsthand how brutal mutants were, especially the old Alpha testers.
The terror of mutant regeneration was etched into their heads.
So when Garbage said he took 20 of them down, even his teammates doubted that his K/D ratio.
Me Quiet called it fake at a glance. Make Me shouted that the guy must have counted the two heads he himself had taken, making Garbage’s nose twist in anger.
Only when Midnight Pubg logged in did he set the record straight.
The guy hadn’t been bragging.
If not for that final monster, who could kick down a tree, he might have taken even more.
That guy had a name. He was at least purple elite tier monster.
Garbage: ... Sigh, you guys still got it worse. 20 sets of Iron Wall exoskeletons, not counting the Cannon Guns, that’s like 300,000 silver coins, right?
He had lost one Hunter exoskeleton himself, but that was just a mount gear. It wasn’t too pricey. Losing it was losing it.
Games were for fun, right?
He had enjoyed himself, his believers were safe, and plenty of people paid even more than he did.
His life was worth it!
Midnight Pubg: Oh, those exoskeletons and rifles... Those were quest items. If they break, they break, they weren’t bought with our money.
Piltover Paratrooper: +1. You forget we usually wear the welded-steel KV-1 and Miner I?
Prone Model: Goblin Technology is number one under the heavens! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Garbage: ???
Quest?
What?
Garbage was dumbfounded.
Seeing the question marks, Midnight Pubg typed back.
Midnight Pubg: You didn’t get the quest?
Garbage: ... What quest. ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
Midnight Pubg: Boulder Town Arms Industry’s side quest. Didn’t I say from the start? We came here to die.
Garbage: The hell?! You were serious?!
Midnight Pubg: Yup.
