Chapter 762.2: Turing Point Of The Southern Front
Chapter 762.2: Turing Point Of The Southern Front
Looking at him, it seemed likely that only his head was not made of steel.
“What a massive haul, brother,” Midnight Pubg said with a broad grin as he looked at the weapons piled across the ground.
Old White opened the visor of his exoframe helmet and gave him a helpless look. “It’s all a heap of junk. Ordinary people can’t use any of that equipment.”
Peepo rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, “Building a fixed mount for it shouldn’t be a problem, but its ammunition is different from our 20mm rounds... Hmm, now that I think about it, it really is a little useless.”
Dog Good Names nodded. “The most valuable parts are the batteries on those exoskeletons. They also use solid-state hydrogen for energy storage, but the energy density of their batteries is considerably higher than that of the models currently in service with us.”
Prone Model suddenly yelled, “Holy crap, the Mutant Humans have better equipment than we do!”
Piltover Paratrooper couldn’t help but snap, “Human traitors! Those goddamned human traitors!”
Little Bookworm frowned. “... Why does that sound kind of weird?”
While the players were considering how to recycle the captured equipment, Ample Time had arrived at the center of the island and met the survivors who were setting up tents.
The Overlord transport aircraft had airdropped tents, sleeping bags, and other daily necessities that had been prepared in advance.
More than 70,000 residents who had been evacuated in an emergency were crammed into an area of only a few square kilometers. Tents crowded against one another until no roads could be seen across the entire clearing, and there was barely any room left to stand.
Because there had been no thorough planning or preparation beforehand, Dumen, the chief of the guard station, was completely overwhelmed. All he could do was lead his men around putting out one fire after another, yet after all their frantic work, everything remained a complete mess.
Fortunately, their friends from the New Alliance arrived with additional personnel and finally managed to stabilize the situation.
Listening to the distant rumble of artillery and gunfire, the crying of infants throughout the camp, and the chaotic arguments all around them, anxiety and panic were written across the survivors’ faces.
When the sounds of artillery and gunfire finally subsided, some people began stirring restlessly and getting to their feet, intending to return home. At the entrance to the evacuation zone, a group of survivors approached the checkpoint and questioned the guards and New Alliance soldiers stationed there.
“Sir, is the war over? When can we go home?”
“My baby needs a fresh diaper and has to be fed. There’s nowhere here for me to do any of that...”
“Fuck! Someone took a shit inside my tent!”
Seeing the guards beside the checkpoint looking helplessly toward him, Ample Time sighed, raised his right arm, and roared, “Quiet! Quiet! Please listen to me!”
The voice amplified through his helmet’s speakers drowned out the commotion and silenced the noisy crowd.
Once the clamor died down, Ample Time continued patiently. “The war is over, but we cannot immediately allow all of you to return home...”
“Why?!” Before he had even finished speaking, an anxious voice interrupted him.
It came from a mother holding a child. She was dressed in pajamas, and her hair was disheveled. She had clearly left home in a hurry during the evacuation. The infant bundled in her arms whimpered and cried, whether from hunger or fright caused by the earlier bombardment.
Understanding how she felt, Ample Time patiently continued, “This is for your safety. Those creatures are Mutant Humans who devour people, bones and all. They had no intention of fighting a war against you. They came here intending to loot everything, burn everything, and kill everyone. Naturally, they showed no restraint in the methods they used during the battle.”
“We need to clear the explosives left behind in the urban district, especially anti-personnel mines and unexploded grenades... Those creatures were careless about maintaining their weapons. Those things may be toys to us, but they are genuinely lethal to you. One tiny mistake can wipe out your entire family. Are you certain you still want to return immediately?”
By the time he was halfway through his explanation, the entire area had fallen silent. No one interrupted him again.
Those people there were well educated, after all. Although they were not as docile and easy to manage as the survivors of Port Gallon, they were at least reasonable. Besides, no one wanted to gamble with the lives of themselves and their families.
Whether it was the mother anxious to feed her child or the survivor demanding another tent, everyone quieted down.
Of course, their concerns were still legitimate. Solving those problems was precisely what Dumen and the other guards were supposed to do.
After a brief pause, Ample Time continued his explanation. “Besides that, we also need to confirm that no isolated Mutant Humans are hiding inside any of the buildings in the urban district. You wouldn’t want to return home and discover an enormous surprise waiting for you, would you? Alright, return to your tents. We will deal with your concerns one at a time.”
After his persuasion, the crowd gathered before the checkpoint finally dispersed, and the guards stationed there heaved sighs of relief.
The night seemed to return to silence.
Looking toward the urban district and the thick smoke drifting around its outskirts, a guard standing beside the checkpoint could not help thinking about the past.
The era of Shelter 70 had perhaps not been so terrible after all. Although most power and wealth had been concentrated in the hands of Shelter 70’s residents, ordinary people had at least never lacked food or clothing back then. Unlike now, they had not been forced to endure shortages of water and electricity while being dragged into a war that did not belong to them.
The young man could not help muttering bitterly. “Why... Why does misfortune always come after us? Is it wrong for us to simply want to live our own lives?”
Ample Time happened to hear the complaint. After thinking for a moment, he casually replied, “That’s perfectly normal. It’s because... you didn’t care.”
The guard froze and stared at him in astonishment, unable to understand why he would say such a thing.
How could they possibly not care? They cared about their fate more than anyone, whether when drafting their shared constitution or now, when they had risen in rebellion to defend it.
When Chalas attempted to deploy North Island’s troops to Sandbar Island and replace them in protecting their families, they had stepped forward without a second thought.
However, Ample Time continued, “... Whether it was Chalas or Li Minghui, either one was fine, as long as the peace on Sandbar Island remained unaffected... Am I right? Before things finally began to hurt, wasn’t that how all of you thought?”
“From your own perspective, choosing your constitution or choosing Chalas were both viable paths. The only difference was that one placed your destiny in your own hands, while the other entrusted it to someone you believed you could trust. Neither choice was necessarily wrong. The problem was that you didn’t care what happened to you. Anything was acceptable... And if that was the case, then you had to be prepared to suffer the consequences of not caring.”
Clearly, the survivors of the Southern Archipelago could not endure hardship as well as those of the Poro Province. Chalas had barely moved a finger before they could no longer tolerate it.
However, that was not necessarily a bad thing. Intuitively, enduring hardship seemed more difficult than enjoying comfort. The latter should have been far easier than the former. Reality, however, was that many things were actually counterintuitive.
“I’m not trying to mock you. I’m only answering your question. I’m glad you chose to stand with us, and we will never disappoint you. After all, the administrator is watching over all of us... Besides, cheer up. At least your homes are still standing, and you’ll be able to return within two days.” Looking at the silent young man, Ample Time gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He then left the checkpoint to the guard’s captain and departed to deal with other matters.
...
On the official Wasteland Online website, during the peak period when players were logging in and out, an unexpected announcement suddenly appeared on the forum.
[Southern Front Progress: The Southern Front has now advanced completely into the central region of the sea. Southern Front players, please continue your efforts and strive to land in the Ocean Edge Province as soon as possible, where you can rendezvous with the players on the Northern Front.]
Yaya: Good grief... You guys are unlocking the map way too quickly. !!!∑(°Д°ノ)ノ
Makka Pakka: +1. Yaya still hasn’t even left the beginner village. (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Yaya: ??? What the heck? I’ve traveled far from home before, alright?
Tail: Ohhh! Brother Ample Time is so quick! Poor Miss Dori!
Night Ten: Good grief, carving out a road where there wasn’t one is something else. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Sisi: Sorry, Tail took the wrong medicine again. (￣～￣;)
Ample Time: It’s fine, I don’t care. She’s nowhere near as good at roasting me as my brothers are. I got used to it long ago. ╭∩╮( ＾◡＾)╭∩╮
Night Ten: Translation: Ample Time: I wrote it down in my little notebook. (¬ω¬)
Tail: B-B-Big Brother, I was wrong... (||°Д°)
Yaya: Wait, where exactly is Sandbar Island again? You guys have unlocked so much of the map that I’m getting dizzy. T.T
Old White: It’s northeast of French Fry Harbor! A few hundred nautical miles away. You’re welcome to visit! Make yourself at home! :D
Quit Bullshit: The sea-fishing map has been updated! Let’s go, brothers!
Escaping Mole: There are still 8/13 islands remaining. We’ve already cleared Ten Peaks Mountain over here, so the riff-raff on the Southern Front need to work harder. (¬_¬)
Midnight Pubg: We’re working on it. We’re working on it.
Following the breakthrough in the Southern Seas, the players’ accessible territory expanded by another island. Besides discussions concerning the newly unlocked Sandbar Island map, most forum conversations focused on the battle itself.
Lifestyle Profession players involved in the military-industrial field were particularly interested in how the New Alliance’s various new types of equipment had performed in combat.
Although most of the underlying technologies had been implemented by New Alliance engineers and technicians, the influence of the players’ wild ideas could still be seen throughout much of the equipment.
Mosquito: By the way, was this the Thunderbolt fighter’s first actual battle?
Falling Feather: ??? What the hell? Didn’t I take it on its first battle back then?
Mosquito: Yours doesn’t count. Your opponents were a bunch of Mutant Humans. What difference was there between flying a Thunderbolt and flying a W-2? Your kill efficiency might even have been worse than the W-2!
Falling Feather: Fuck you Mosquito!
Mosquito: @Light Wind @Little Ghost, come out and tell us about it. How did it feel? ( ◔ ڡ ◔)
Little Ghost: Ew! Why are you using that expression?
Light Wind: Hmm... It was very fast, I suppose? Also, the plasma engine really was far more stable than a jet engine. If I had to compare them, it was like the difference between an electric car and a tractor.
Little Ghost: Exactly! But the difference in maximum speed didn’t seem that significant? I even felt that the Lofty Cloud might have had a slightly higher top speed.
Falling Feather: That’s normal. Our plasma engines are only at the beginning of their development. When steamships first appeared, they were completely outclassed by sailing ships as well, but the gap widened over time.
Spring Water Commander: Yes, that’s the principle. We also need to consider the limitations imposed by the atmosphere. I remember the setting mentioning that, during the era of the Federation, plasma engines were developed for outer space from the very beginning. Atmospheric aircraft apparently only developed as far as jet engines? Blindly copying the Federation’s experience probably isn’t advisable either.
Dino Warrior: Copying their experience, he says... What exactly are you people trying to do? (ᵕ • ᴗ •)
Mosquito: Children shouldn’t worry about things they don’t understand. Go play your game. (¬⩊¬ )⊹₊⟡⋆
Dino Warrior: I don’t fucking have a helmet... Big Brother, I’m a student. Could you lend me one for a few days? T.T
Mosquito: ... Good grief. I spoke too soon.
Besides the Thunderbolt fighter, the Sea Dragon missile developed by Boulder Town Arms Industry had also performed exceptionally well.
The Sea Dragon, modified by engineers from Shelter 70, carried an EMP warhead. A single missile disabled the radar and sonar systems aboard the Reef destroyer, creating the decisive opportunity needed for the Jungle Corps to seize the ship.
Moreover, it was probably the first joint operation involving the army, navy, and air force since the launch of Wasteland Online!
Although it was not as thrilling as the battle at Ten Peaks Mountain, the equipment deployed and the tactical and strategic details involved were far more extensive.
The players were not the only ones who had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Far away on the Northern Front, after reading the complete battle report, Chu Guang sincerely praised the operation. “... Sandbar Island has been secured. If we deploy radar stations and missile launchers there, we can further restrict the North Island fleet’s operational space.”
Inside the captain’s quarters aboard the Heart of Steel, Chu Guang finished reading the battle report and turned his gaze toward the world map on the wall. The red dotted line drawn across the central region of the Southern Seas had been filled in as a solid line.
Only a few minutes earlier, good news had also arrived from Peace Island’s shipyard. They hoped the New Alliance Air Force could cooperate with them in completing the testing of the Conch submarine carrier.
The day of the final battle was drawing ever closer!