Chapter 467.1: Bloody Battle For Hill 330

Dusk had just fallen over Hill 330.

Centurion Yote of the 11th Support Company sat on a bench inside the observation post, staring absentmindedly at the desert outside the window as darkness slowly engulfed it.

A few hours ago, he had received word from the frontline command post that the savages from the New Alliance had suddenly launched an all-out assault on the Army’s defenses. Defense zone G40-1 had already fallen.

At most, within 48 hours, New Alliance tanks would reach the foot of Hill 330.

The four frontline 1,000-man battalions were currently retreating to defend their positions. Swofte had given him only one order, to cooperate with the retreating units and intercept the New Alliance’s armored forces from breaking into their rear.

Yote was still a bit dazed.

Just two days ago, their allies had been mocking the New Alliance over the radio, tearing them to shreds with ridicule. How had they suddenly broken through the defense lines?!

Regardless, command wasn’t joking with him.

And Yote wasn’t about to joke with his own life either. He immediately dispatched a scout team and a group of engineers to plant explosives at the foot of the hill.

Aside from the teams operating the radar and anti-air guns, he ordered everyone else to dig defensive positions along the middle of the hill.

At that moment, an officer ran in and saluted sharply.

“Report! A unit is approaching from the rear!”

From the rear?

Yote’s heart stirred slightly. He stood up from the bench at once and quickly stepped out of the observation post, heading straight for the roadside on the northern edge of Hill 330.

In the distance, clouds of dust billowed in the night. Dozens of fully loaded trucks packed with armed soldiers were rumbling down the road from the direction of the command post.

“What’s going on over there?” Yote’s adjutant stood nearby, clearly having noticed the commotion as well.

Yote didn’t respond right away. He raised the binoculars hanging from his neck and took a closer look, there were 30 light trucks in total.

After watching for a moment, he blurted, “It’s the battalion responsible for guarding the command post!”

“Huh?!” The adjutant turned to him in surprise. “What are they doing here?”

“Aren’t they supposed to protect the command post and provide supporting fire? Don’t tell me Swofte is moving the headquarters to Hill 330?!”

“I don’t know,” Yote replied, handing the binoculars over to him. He waved toward the distant sentry tower. “Let them through!”

The checkpoint opened and the convoy soon arrived at their position.

Soldiers of the 11th company stood on both sides of the road, watching the well-equipped soldiers disembark from the trucks, envy clearly written on their faces.

“Damn, every one of them has an assault rifle.”

“I heard those guys get triple the ammo supply compared to regular frontline units!”

“Triple? More like five times! They’re the only ones in the entire battalion who won’t run out of ammo.”

Unlike the clones, the troops on the trucks were pure-blooded Wislanders.

Not only was every one of them equipped with an assault rifle, they each wore either light or heavy armor.

That shiny black surface glinted with a cold gleam under the moonlight. Their armor couldn’t even be pierced even if they emptied an entire magazine into it.

And they weren’t just well-equipped, their military training far surpassed ordinary clones. They were considered the elite of the entire 4th Battalion.

Once the trucks came to a halt, a man nearly two meters tall jumped down from the front passenger seat of the lead vehicle.

He wore a steel helmet, had sharply defined features, a towering frame, and no visible insignia on his uniform. However, Yote recognized him instantly.

It was none other than Simond, the commander of the Defense Battalion.

Back when Yote had first joined the 4th Division, he had served as a Decurion under Simond’s command.

Yote saluted, then stepped forward with a smile.“Commander Simond. Why are you here?”

Simond skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point.

“Order from central command. I’m here to take over the defense of Hill 330.”

Yote looked at him in surprise.

Central command issuing frontline orders?

That was a breach of chain of command.

And to deploy the Defense Battalion, no less...

He could almost picture Swofte foaming at the mouth in fury.

Noticing the shock on Yote’s face, Simond added expressionlessly, “Don’t worry about it. You just continue your tasks. Leave all defensive problems to us.”

Yote immediately stood straight and saluted. “Yes, sir!”

Simond nodded and waved to his adjutant, who jogged over to the trucks.

Over 1,000 soldiers disembarked quickly, dragging crates, rushing to the sides of the hill. They split into 10-man teams. Some dug trenches, others built fortifications, all working in tight coordination to expand the defenses.

Simond didn’t idle either. He took a more detailed regional map from Yote, freshly marked by scouts. It showed routes from the mountain base to Hill 330, key defense zones, and shortcuts.

After studying the map for a long while, Simond suddenly frowned and looked at Yote. “Take me to the best vantage point.”

“Yes, sir! Please follow me.” Yote led the way, bringing Simond to the forward observation post.

From where they were, the eastern, southern, and western flanks could be seen clearly.

“Why is there no firepoint set up on the southwest side?”

Yote froze for a moment, then quickly explained. “We... We don’t have a machine gun for that. We’re an anti-air company. We only have two heavy machine guns, and both are deployed to the south and southeast, covering the road.”

Simond interrupted him. “How many anti-air guns do we have?”

“... Four.”

“Then remove one and place it here.” Simond tapped a raised contour on the map’s southwest edge.

“There’s a defensive gap on the southwest side. It must be covered.”

Yote leaned in to look at the map, then raised his head. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Sir, there’s no road on the southwest side. It’s all mountains. No one would come from that direction!”

“There’s vegetation there too. Nowhere else is more ideal if they want to surprise us.” Simond glanced out the window.

Out in the dark hills, greenery swayed in the wind.

Not just plants, there were also standing rocks and even natural cover.

“They can’t exactly fly over here,” Yote muttered. “Even if their tank treads are made of titanium, they can’t off-road 150 kilometers through that terrain. Not unless they plan to sit around till next month.”

“They might actually fly over,” Simond said calmly.

Yote’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean?”

Simond continued, “The New Alliance’s real target is the 4th Division’s command post. Hill 330 will likely be left to their paratroopers.”

Yote looked out the window toward the clear night sky. There wasn’t a single cloud, nor a hint of enemy paratroopers. But Simond’s words made him cautious.

If the New Alliance really planned to send infantry to infiltrate from the southwest... With only a handful of anti-air soldiers, he wasn’t confident they could hold.

Seeing the change in his expression, Simond added, “If I were the New Alliance’s commander, I’d drop paratroopers behind those southwest hills, using darkness and vegetation as cover to infiltrate Hill 330 on foot.”

He patted Yote’s shoulder. “Hill 33 determines how far they’ll get. Get your men ready, we’ll likely be in for a hell of a fight tonight.”

Yote swallowed hard and straightened up. “Yes, sir!”

While Simond was giving Yote the defensive orders, neither of them realized that several shadowy figures were lying in wait right beneath their noses, on the backside of the slope behind the southwestern hills of Hill 330.

Sideline Slacking was crouched behind swaying bushes, silently observing the enemy position ahead with several other members of the Death Corps.

It was already 8:00 at night.

They had completed a full 150-kilometer cross-country forced march in just eight hours.

They had no modern transportation, not even a proper road, just endless desert and sand dunes stretching across a desolate wasteland.

If they were in real life, they would not only make military history. It would probably break a Guinness World Record.

But Sideline Slacking didn’t feel proud.

Reaching the assault position was only step one. Speed alone wasn’t worth boasting about.

They could brag on the forums after taking the enemy position.

“Damn, there’s a lot of people on that hill!” muttered Eye Owe Money as he peered through his binoculars at the nearby hilltop.

Lapulasi, lying next to him, was also surprised. “This is supposed to be a 100-man company?!”

“Just on the southwest flank alone, I count more than that...” Sheep Bun couldn’t help but comment.

Eye Owe Money glanced at the quiet Sideline Slacking and whispered, “Looks like they’ve got more men than us. Should we loop west and hit them from the north?”

Sideline Slacking shook his head. “If we go any farther west, we’ll cross into another sector. This is the best spot.”

Just 10 to 20 kilometers west lay another anti-air position. If they were spotted, they would be caught in a deadly crossfire from both flanks.

The entire mountain region was under the Army’s control. Troops were dispersed across every hill and position, leaving attackers with very limited tactical options.

All he could do was choose the one with the highest chance of success.

“There’s movement on the other hill,” an agility type player whispered, “Is that a heavy machine gun?”

“It’s an anti-air gun!” another replied in a low voice. “Looks like they’re moving one to the southwest position!”

At that, everyone lying in ambush looked at each other.

“Did they spot us?”

“Maybe not us,” Sideline Slacking said, frowning at the engineers moving the gun. “But they probably noticed the weakness. One engineering squad at the base, another at the top... Hell, that’s an entire battalion! This is no 100-man company.”

“I agree.” Sheep Bun nodded seriously. “They definitely sent another battalion over.”

“So what do we do?” Midnight Umbrella whispered, looking at Sideline Slacking. “Should we wait for the others to catch up before attacking?”

They were outnumbered and it was a frontal assault. If they charged, it was no different from suicide.

It was better to wait for the main force to arrive. Those strength type monsters pedaling tricycles were no joke. 3,000 of them pushing up together would guarantee success.

“We can’t wait any longer,” Sideline Slacking said, lowering his binoculars. He looked at Eye Owe Money beside him. “Where’s your drone?”

“Ready to launch!” Eye Owe Money answered eagerly.

“Good.” Sideline Slacking nodded. “Deploy all of them. Mark targets first, don’t fire until my command. We strike all fire points at once. Don’t give them a single moment to catch their breath!”

“Roger that!” Eye Owe Money nodded excitedly and slipped down to the side.

Sideline Slacking turned to Sheep Bun. “Take 500 of the others and flank southeast of Hill 330. Stick close to the road and launch a feint attack!”

“Yes, sir!” Sheep Bun nodded and followed after Eye Owe Money.

Once back behind the slope, Sideline Slacking checked the time on his screen in the faint light.

It was 8:15 in the New Alliance time.

It had been 15 minutes. Their ‘little ones’ should be well rested by now. He tapped his earpiece and switched to the full-team communication channel.

In a low voice, he ordered, “All squads, be advised... Operation begins in ten minutes.”

The response was a chorus of eager voices, none showing a hint of fear.

“Copy that!”

...