Chapter 443.2: Clash of Blood and Steel

Hearing that there were infantry approaching outside, Escaping Mole immediately tensed up. He turned his periscope toward the west and saw nine people limping down the sand dune. Their armor was pretty much consistent with that of the Falcon Kingdom's First Armored Motorized Battalion.

They were carrying rifles in their hands and anti-tank rocket launchers on their backs, carefully gathering around the unexploded Model-B Tank 2.

Swallowing hard, Escaping Mole retrieved his LD-50 hanging on the inside of the tank, unfolding the foldable stock. "You fix the capacitor, I'll deal with them."

"Fix the capacitor?!" The strength type player was momentarily stunned, looking back at Escaping Mole in surprise. "What's the use of fixing that thing? The Railgun can't breach the Wanderer’s defense."

Earlier, five Railguns fired simultaneously and didn’t scratch the damn tank.

According to the analysis of the guys on the forum, the armor was probably designed against all types of metal projectile. They didn’t have a solution at all.

As for armor-piercing shells, high-explosive shells... They've tried all the methods they could earlier.

"Anyway, we only have one chance..." Escaping Mole said in a grave tone, "Although it might not work, I want to try one more time."

"Alright..." The player nodded, struggling to squeeze out of the already deformed seat. He found the toolbox next to the loader, and the damaged capacitor was right by the corpse’s right foot.

Looking at the blood that had already been carbonized by the electricity, and the completely severed wires, the player couldn't help but feel his scalp going numb.

Escaping Mole’s voice came from above. “Can you fix it?”

After bracing himself, the strength type player replied, “I'll try my best.”

"I’ll leave it to you then.” Escaping Mole took a deep breath, grabbed the turret hatch handle with his left hand and the LD-50 with his right, planning to pop out of the turret and open fire before those infantry got too close.

The next second, not far outside the tank, sudden gunfire erupted.

Escaping Mole was immediately startled by the sudden shots. "Isn’t that..."

After playing Wasteland Online for such a long time, he wasn't likely to mishear his own people's gunfire.

Escaping Mole didn't hesitate, immediately turning the periscope to the source of the sound.

He saw Irene lying on the sand dune to the right front of the tank, firing his LD-47 at the Falcon Kingdom soldiers below the dune.

Besides him, there were also Elf Wang and three other armored infantry from the Skeleton Corps. As players of the Skeleton Corps' infantry, their combat awareness and genetic sequence level were relatively high on the server.

The 10-man squad below the dune was caught off guard by the sudden shots quickly turned into sieves, falling into a pool of blood. Seeing the crisis resolved, Escaping Mole tapped his finger on his VM and tuned into the communication channel. "Irene?! What's the situation on your side?"

"Everything's ok, just wiped out a squad... Holy shit? You're still alive?" Hearing Escaping Mole's voice, Irene, who was reloading, raised an eyebrow in shock.

Just a moment ago, he was lying in a foxhole, stunned by a high-explosive shell. He went offline to the forum and saw Escaping Mole's post, thinking how their commander was already dead.

As it turned out, he actually reconnected!

When did the perception type's recovery ability become as strong?

"Hehe, I’ve been unlucky for a long time... It’s it time for my luck to change? Anyway, my ears seem to be a little wonky but that shouldn’t be a problem. Our tank is probably scrapped, and our driver is still tying to fix it.”

Getting lucky for once?

Irene revealed a strange expression. Using his luck to save his life in game... That seemed like a loss no matter how he thought about it. At least save it for when they were drawing rewards, right? It wasn't as though they couldn't respawn.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t time to be sarcastic. Since their commander was still alive, Irene quickly asked, "Can your tank be fixed?"

"Engine's probably gone, but the capacitor should be fine. All we need to do is to connect all the broken wires...” Watching the player fixing the tank glare at him while rolling his eyes, Escaping Mole quickly added, “Maybe...”

Irene sighed. “So... What now?"

Escaping Mole took a deep breath and calmed down. "Can you see the Wanderer?"

Irene picked up the binoculars hanging around his neck, looked around for a while, and after a long while, he answered, "Not really... Wait! There's big smoke in the southwest. It’s coming this way!”

“Hmm, they probably heard your gunfire. I guessed as much...” Escaping Mole said.

Elf Wang, who was lying next to Irene, quickly looked in the direction and growled, “That’s strange... Won’t the temperature of the tank increase? Why can’t I see any heat signature at all?” He had found it strange earlier. Other tanks were hot and glowing white.

Only the Wanderer was pitch black in his thermal vision.

"Not seeing a heat source is abnormal, seeing it would be normal." Escaping Mole took a deep breath and slowly continued speaking, "Listen well... Whether or not it works, we still have one chance!"

The brothers in the communication channel quieted down, waiting for his command.

Escaping Mole paused, then continued, "There’s a light tank northwest of you. If I remember correctly, it was destroyed by a 155mm shell."

Irene immediately asked, "So?"

Escaping Mole growled, "Try to start it!"

Irene was baffled. "The heck? I haven't driven a tank before."

He quickly looked at Elf Wang beside him, trying to see if that guy was going to be a reliable ally, but he was also baffled.

The New Alliance’s trucks weren’t hard to drive. All they needed to do was to have hands. However, a tank was another matter.

Not to mention it wasn’t even their New Alliance’s tank! It belonged to the Army.

But...In Escaping Mole's view, that doesn't matter.

Initially, he didn't expect the Conqueror No.5's 60mm tiny gun to pose a threat to the Wanderer tank. However...

Taking a deep breath, he said seriously, "Don't worry! Just follow my commands..."

...

Back on the desert, Stan, who had been commanding their troops after learning of enemy infantry attack, turned to stare at the dunes in the north.

He knew there was a destroyed New Alliance’s Tank there.

But unlike other tanks, it didn't burst into flames. It simply lay sprawled on the other side of the sand dune.

Because the New Alliance’s tanks scattered and fled, Stan had no time to confirm the kills. He could only leave it to the First Armored Motorized Battalion of the Falcon Kingdom.

However, he never expected those fools to be unable to handle something so easy.

“... 11th Infantry, report your situation immediately!”

Only static crackled back on the comms channel.

From the moment the gunfire started, he had waited a long time, but no reply ever came.

Rage burned in Stan’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but curse, “These useless scum...”

He flung the communicator onto the rack beside his canteen, pressed the switch again, activated his godly armor, and ordered the driver, “Target the northeast. Maintain our speed forward at 30 km/h!”

The driver answered crisply. “Roger!”

No human figure could be seen in the rolling yellow sand ahead, but Stan was sure he hadn’t misheard the gunfire from minutes ago. It was probably their tank driver crawling out to make a dying struggle.

He didn’t care about those few stragglers. What infuriated him was that the infantry couldn’t even clean up the battlefield properly.

Giving His Excellency the Marshal’s great tanks to these scum was a waste!

As they got closer, Stan kicked the driver’s seat as his eyes were glued to his scope.

The driver understood at once, halting the tank.

Not far away, at the foot of a dune two kilometers away, a desert-camo-painted tank wreck lay quietly.

Its frontal armor bore a twisted, gaping hole. It was clear a shell had pierced straight through it.

The turret drooped motionlessly, just as it had over an hour ago.

With that level of damage, the tank was undoubtedly scrapped, though the crew inside might not have been killed immediately.

Seeing the ten corpses 200 meters in front of the wreck, Stan sneered coldly.

There were no footprints around the tank and no blood either.

The survivor was probably still hiding inside, playing dead.

“Load a high-explosive shell.” Stan’s voice was icy. He was intent on sending his opponent on their final journey.

“Roger!” Inside the Wanderer, the loader swiftly pulled out the ordinary shell that was already loaded and slid in a shell tipped with an orange warhead.

But just as Stan was about to finish off the tank wreck, his side armor suddenly took a hit.

Whoosh!

A short, sharp scraping could be heard across the hull.

It sounded less like a cannon shell than a toothpick dragging across a blackboard.

From the sound alone, the caliber couldn’t have been more than 100 mm.

Stan clicked his tongue impatiently, signaling the driver to turn the tank 60 degrees left toward the source of the shot.

But when he peered through the scope and saw the tank, he was briefly stunned.

A Conqueror No.5?

“That’s one of ours?” The driver had also noticed, looking back at Stan in confusion.

Stan frowned, but soon realized something, sneering as he switched off his weapon’s safety.

“... Just a few dying bugs...”

Who did a 60 mm pea-shooter think it could scare?

It was still lying there motionless...

Those fools probably hadn’t figured out how to drive it!