radicalducati Chapter 53 It's alright, we've strengthened ourselves!
Chapter 53 It's alright, we've strengthened ourselves!
"Damn! Why didn't we see this many shells when we were attacking our fellow villagers before!"
James Jones crouched at the observation post of the underground passage, concrete debris falling from the edge.
The river reflected the light of artillery fire, and each explosion caused the water to tremble violently.
He, an active-duty officer with over twenty years of service, had seen artillery support in Iraq, but the sheer density of continuously unleashing heavy fire on a small town like this—forty-eight 155mm high-explosive shells in six minutes—exceeded the concept of conventional firefights.
This is more like a performance.
A performance that makes up for lost battle results with ammunition quantity.
"fine."
Carl sat with his back against the aisle wall, his eyes closed.
His right hand was pressed against his chest, and the cross scar under his palm was slightly warm.
"They won't keep fighting forever. They need money for shells, they need to replenish their stocks, and they need someone to approve their accounts."
"Besides, they've already played their best by playing for this long."
The shelling continued, but the intervals became longer.
The initial volley fire was replaced by sporadic, targeted firing.
"Just hold on a little longer,"
Carl said,
"Wait until they enter the town. Once they're in the streets and buildings, the tanks' firing arc will be limited, and the infantry will face crossfire. Or hold out until nightfall—"
He didn't finish speaking.
Nighttime means limited visibility, and it also means that the other party may be using thermal imaging and night vision equipment.
These two thousand-plus people had no satellite support and no drone swarm.
But it's okay.
All that's left are these brick and stone buildings and underground passages.
And the blessings of the Lord, the enhancements brought by the [Blood Flag Domain]!
"call--"
Karl exhaled a breath of stale air.
The fatigue from continuously operating the field felt like a blunt object hitting the back of the head.
He could sense the position, state, and even emotional fluctuations of each believer—fear, excitement, calmness, or pure fighting instinct.
"That's about right now."
James glanced at his watch.
"Based on casualty reports and location feedback, most people have already moved into the pre-designated shelters. Continue with our previously agreed-upon plan to periodically activate the defense zone, covering the core area for fifteen minutes at a time, with a half-hour interval. You need to conserve your energy."
He paused, then patted Karl's shoulder with his calloused and scarred hand.
"Don't forget, you are the one who leads us on the path of redemption. Don't give up halfway through."
Karl opened his eyes.
The shelling had stopped, leaving only the crackling of distant burning buildings and the heavier vibrations of mechanical tracks rolling over the road.
"Um."
He severed the domain connection.
ground.
The dust kicked up by the shells had not yet completely settled.
Three offensive routes were launched simultaneously.
On the eastern front, two M1A2 tanks led the way, followed by eight armored personnel carriers, advancing along the town's main road toward the square.
The tank turret slowly rotated, with the coaxial machine guns ready to fire at any moment.
The western route has the same configuration, starting from the abandoned factory area.
The southern front was for infantry detachments to infiltrate from the flanks via forest trails. They were not heavily equipped, but had the largest numbers of personnel. The entire Detroit Police Department's Special Operations Group was present, totaling 396 men.
Prussian George squatted in the third troop carrier on the Western Front.
The carriage was crammed with twelve people, the smells of sweat and engine oil mingling together.
He held the rifle in his left hand, while his right hand unconsciously rubbed the ceramic plate made by Seris on his chest.
Outside the car window, a quadcopter drone hovered at a height of ten meters, its camera pointed directly at the convoy.
"Shit."
Prussia muttered a curse under his breath.
Command drones are used for monitoring operations. Data links connect directly to the command center.
If they stop, retreat, or show any signs of poor performance, Gordon Jose only needs to tap a few times on his tablet, which will then synchronize the view and coordinates to the artillery positions behind the lines.
It might even turn into a suicide drone!
"Friendly fire" is always just a statistic in reports.
No one spoke in the carriage.
Everyone understands the choice.
Move forward, facing that group of white rednecks who call themselves "followers of the saints";
Or turn back and face the artillery fire of your own people.
Prussia unlocked his phone screen, and surprisingly, there was still one bar of signal. He opened the Music Platform.
Carl Jensen's speech video is still featured on the homepage.
He quickly swiped past the videos and then clicked on a few more related ones.
He was all too familiar with the look in the eyes of those people in the picture: pure, undisguised hostility.
It wasn't directed at soldiers, but at "those who are not of our kind," at infidels.
He is a typical José.
If he is captured, he will die.
They either died on the battlefield or in those bizarre "purification" rituals.
He had seen the corpses hanging in the square.
The car jolted.
"whee."
The Prussian man suddenly chuckled softly. The people around him turned to look at him.
"I must live," he said, more like he was saying to himself.
The second floor of an abandoned textile factory in Zhennan.
Stephen Taylor lay on the half-collapsed window, his eyes not looking outside.
With his eyes closed, the senses of the [hunting dog] extended outwards like a spider web.
Dark red lines appeared in his consciousness, connecting each approaching enemy.
This is our greatest reliance!
It directly unlocked the lock-on and wall-penetrating abilities!
"Enemy forces detected."
He pressed the headset button.
"On the western front, two tanks and eight troop carriers, 800 meters apart. On the southern front, infantry, more than 300 men, cutting in from the forest path, 500 meters apart. The eastern front is similar to the western front."
pause.
"Note: Keep your distance. Don't cluster together, and don't give them a chance to wipe you out with heavy firepower."
"They are capable of firing at their own teammates."
He'd seen this kind of thing before.
Responses came through the earpiece one after another:
"Received." "Understood." "Ready in position."
People began to move around the town.
From the basement entrance, from behind the partially collapsed building, from the sewer maintenance well.
They moved quickly, using the ruins as cover and constantly changing positions.
But those drones were always hovering overhead.
"Damn drones!"
Someone was cursing over the walkie-talkie.
Stephen opened his eyes and glanced at the sky. Four medium-sized reconnaissance and strike drones hovered at an altitude of one kilometer, and smaller reconnaissance aircraft were visible in the distance.
With air superiority completely lost, any large-scale gathering would be detected immediately.
He was preparing to order them to take cover again—
A surge of heat suddenly welled up in my chest.
A familiar feeling of power instantly spread to his limbs.
Muscles tensed, breathing deepened, and a faint dark red halo appeared at the edge of vision.
At the same time, Carl's voice came through the headset, steady and clear:
"Listen up, everyone. Don't return to the Lord's embrace too soon."
The Blood Flag Domain unfolds once again.
All believers within the core defense node simultaneously felt the infusion of power.
Stephen gripped the rifle tightly, his knuckles clicking softly.
"Yes!" he said into his headset.
The next second, the same response rang out from all channels, the sounds overlapping into a brief roar:
"yes!"
With the Lord's watchful eye, victory is assured!