Chapter 444.1: NOWHERE TO GO NOW

Two trails of white smoke split from the explosion. One fell towards the valley and the other towards the airfield.

If that missile had hit the runway, it would have blasted a deep crater in the center of the runway.

However, coincidentally, the H55 Hurricane was already in the process of taking off and couldn't stop in time.

"Shit!" Cursing, Kaylen, who was seated at the pilot's seat, watched the white trail printed on the plane window and furiously pushed the throttle forward.

The flames from the twin engines suddenly intensified, propelling the plane forward at an increased speed.

Simultaneously, he slightly veered to the left using the rudder in an attempt to dodge the oncoming missile.

But still, danger caught up to him first.

Although the missile did not hit the plane directly, landing beside the runway, for a metal hydrogen charged missile, it was basically the same thing as a direct hit.

Boom!

The blast wave spread at a terrifying speed, carrying fragments of the explosion and stones, slamming into the side of the plane, instantly turning the right wing of the Hurricane into scrap metal.

One engine stalled abruptly!

With the power of the left engine undiminished, the aircraft made a sharp turn on the runway, and its landing gear was brutally snapped off.

Amidst a grating noise of metal, the bomber violently rolled off the runway, digging a trench in the ground with its broken wing.

The windows of the plane were covered in a web of cracks and finally shattered into countless pieces.

With a grimace, Kaylen groaned, losing consciousness amidst the dizzying tumble.

But before losing consciousness, he still managed to stretch out his right hand and pressed a button next to the control stick.

It was the button for a delayed explosion, set to half an hour, and the password to disarm it was known only to him.

Although the troops stationed at the airfield might not necessarily lose, General Griffin had advised him not to overestimate General McClennan's capabilities.

He didn't care if he was going to die. He only cared about the Marshal's ambition to conquer the world.

If the ground forces ultimately failed to recover the nuclear warhead, at the very least, it couldn’t fall into the hands of the New Alliance...

...

Meanwhile, above the airfield.

Looking down at the ground through the plane window, the pilot inside the H44 Cutlass Fighter was stunned.

In the previous dive, he had successfully turned the opponent’s oddly shaped aircraft into scrap with his machine gun. He didn’t expect they were still holding an unlaunched missile!

What surprised him even more was that the pilot on the other side, knowing full well that another strafing run would finish him off, had no intention of parachuting out and had simply completely forsaken maneuverability for a chance to break the sound barrier!

Everything happened too fast.

Mach-level combat only left seconds for judgment for both parties.

Gulping once, he squeezed a few short syllables from his throat. "Damn..."

What kind of madmen was he fighting against? There were still about 200 rounds left in his machine gun.

Although he could dive again, it seemed there was no longer any need.

With the loss of their light vehicles and machine gun positions, General McClennan's defenses had been overrun by those barbaric horsemen.

200 meters might seem like a joke to these horsemen, but at 20 meters, no one was laughing.

Especially on the open desert...

Smoke began to rise from the wreckage in the middle of the runway.

Looking at the wing fragment that had pierced the belly of the plane, the pilot seemed to realize something, and his face changed drastically.

Without any hesitation, he immediately turned the nose westward and slammed the throttle all the way forward.

At the same time, pressed against the seat by inertia, he shouted in his own communication channel, "This is the Cutlass! We are being intercepted by New Alliance ground forces, Hurricane can't take off! Mission cannot continue! Requesting to return to base!"

"Repeat, requesting to return to base!"

The nearest airfield was 1,000 kilometers away. Of course, no one would respond to him.

But whether or not anyone responded, he had to retreat...

He wasn’t the only one who was stunned. Even the personnel on the ground were shocked at the sudden change in situation.

Just having climbed into a jeep, General McClennan blankly watched the smoking runway, his eyes slowly filling with a hint of despair.

That wasn’t just because it was his last and only way out.

But also because of the thing on that plane...

Touching the steering wheel, the officer gulped nervously and looked sideways.

"General... Do we still go?"

They had originally planned to intercept the plane. But now, it seemed unnecessary.

General McClennan's eyelids twitched, and after a long while, he squeezed out his final verdict. "It's over."

As he spoke, his shoulders slumped against the seat.

The officer beside him was stunned, looking at General McClennan with eyes full of astonishment.

That man, in the prime of his life, seemed to age a decade in a moment...

The sound of galloping hooves boiled in the southern part of the camp, amid the tumultuous shouts and battle cries.

As the elite of Petra Fortress, every horse in this cavalry was a black horse from the great desert. The riders were exceptionally brave warriors.

After losing the protection of heavy firepower, the southern defense line of the Army's camp was instantly trampled into dust, and the cavalry stormed into the camp, charging and stabbing with bayonets or simply shooting their enemies, causing chaos and casualties throughout the camp.

"Catch the enemy commander alive!" The captain of the guard shouted as he led the charge.

However, everyone was too enraged to pay heed to his commands, trampling or stabbing the fallen, including those who kneeled to surrender.

Surrender?

Why didn't they think of that earlier when they were behind the machine guns?

Even if they wanted to surrender, they should wait until half of them were dead!

Thinking of their comrades who had died in the charge, the cavalrymen roared in anger.

Whether they were from distant West Coast or soldiers of the Falcon Kingdom.

At that moment, they were just meat on the chopping board. As soon as they stepped out of the tents, they were dead.

And those who hid inside fared no better.

To avoid entangling the horses' legs with the tents, the cavalry didn't charge directly at the tents; instead, they used lighters to ignite bottles stuffed with cotton, doused with kerosene and alcohol before throwing them in.

Those homemade incendiary bottles were more useful than grenades, and much cheaper to make. If the bottles were shaken before they were thrown, the effects were even better.

Seeing the fires in the rear, Wester immediately brought people back from the western front to support.

Although the garrison of Petra Fortress was numerous, their combat effectiveness was nowhere near that of the Falcon Kingdom.

Many of the militia were poorly trained. They didn’t even know how to dig proper foxholes, thinking that burying their heads would suffice, not realizing that from the enemy's perspective, they were leaving their asses exposed.

It was for that reason he was able to spare a 1,000-man army to reassemble and head back toward the direction of the airfield.

But... Riding his three-wheeled motorcycle, he had just reached the edge of the camp and hadn't yet had a chance to assist when he saw a burst of fire in the east.

Boom!

Before the deafening sound reached him, the explosion had already bloomed over the dunes.

Two squads of 10 hadn't had time to spread out and take cover before they were obliterated by the high-explosive shell.

"Tanks!" Someone cried out in despair, "Spread out!"

But his cry of despair was too late to even count as a last struggle.

That was a tank! And there wasn’t just one!

On the horizon that was gradually cloaked in darkness, numerous black dots appeared.

Row after row of tanks arrived, their dark barrels uniformly raised. Behind them was a vast swirling dust cloud.

Watching the steel torrent emerge on the horizon, the soldiers of the Falcon Kingdom felt despair wash over their faces.

They didn't even have anti-tank weapons! Against such foes, they were utterly defenseless. The first shell was just the beginning.

After the first hit, the other dozens of tanks also opened fire.

The open desert was instantly blasted into deadly dust clouds, clearing out areas as large as basketball courts.

Every organism touched by the blast was instantly reduced to mush.