SEC Chapter 1329 Let's fight in a different place
Chapter 1329 Let's fight in a different place
The alien commander stood on the hill, looking at the fortress illuminated by searchlights, his radiating pupils reflecting the distant firelight.
Its forelimbs hang down at its sides, claws digging into the rocks beneath its feet, and its thick neck, characteristic of the fission species, droops slightly, like a giant iguana scrutinizing its prey.
The battle lasted less than four hours, from 5:36 p.m. to 10:28 p.m.
The alien commander doesn't need to look at the battle report to know how heavy the losses are.
More than 300,000 of the ground-dwelling species died, nearly 20,000 of the fission species died, and the number of the parasitic species was even more difficult to count, because the corpses of those white worms were mixed in with the pile of flesh and blood and it was impossible to distinguish which one was which.
As for the number of orc deaths, it was too lazy to count. Those two-legged beastmen were cowards from the beginning. Apart from charging in the first wave, they hid in the back and threw Porcupine Barrels, refusing to take another step forward no matter what.
Three hundred thousand ground-walking birds.
This figure would be a crushing defeat in any war, enough to warrant the execution of the commander.
But the alien commander did not receive any punishment from the king, because the king also knew that it was not because it was incompetent in command, but because the group on the other side was simply too strange.
The death toll in the Paradise of Reincarnation is only four.
Four people.
A ratio of 300,000 to 4 means that the alien species would need to sacrifice 75,000 lives to exchange for one of the alien species' lives.
Moreover, the causes of death for those four people were all typical examples of extreme bad luck. One was blown away by the shockwave of the Pelu's barrel explosion and his neck broke after hitting the city wall. Two were hit by the area-of-effect attack of the fission species at the same time and there was no time to rescue them. The third one was even more outrageous. He went too deep and was overwhelmed by the earth-walkers. By the time his teammates dug him out of the pile of corpses, he was already dead.
As for Kivotos's students, the number of returning students was 653.
Want to wipe out the entire Cycle of Reincarnation? Sure. Use the lives of other species to make up the difference.
When the earth-borne species become extinct, perhaps we can finally tear down that damned city wall.
Below the city wall, the madmen were packing up.
When King Kong walked back from the slope soaked in blood and flesh, the sound of his boots on the ground changed from dull to sticky, like stepping on a rotten carpet.
He pulled out the blood-soaked pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out and put it in his mouth. The tobacco flavor mixed with the bloody smell was inhaled into his lungs. He frowned, then lit it with a lighter.
The flame flickered on the blood-red cigarette paper and actually caught fire.
He took a deep breath, and smoke billowed from his nostrils, forming a pale blue haze in the beam of the searchlight.
The smoke was blown away by the night wind, revealing his grinning mouth.
The madmen below the city wall gathered in twos and threes. One of the left contractors sat on an ammunition box, flexing his newly grown fingers. His joints were still a little stiff, but he was already quite satisfied.
"It's half a minute faster than last time."
The fat man squatting next to him glanced at him, wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve, took out a compressed biscuit from his pocket, broke it in half, put one half into his own mouth, and handed the other half to him.
"That's because the doctor is skilled, not because you have a good constitution."
The contractor took the biscuit, took a bite, chewed it a couple of times, and grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained with blood.
"They're all the same."
The alien commander stood on the hill, his radial pupils slightly contracting in the night breeze.
It fought its way from human forces to orc forces, and has been through countless battles.
Throughout its military career, whenever it personally appeared on the battlefield, the enemy's defenses would typically collapse within an hour.
Humans are like this, and so are orcs.
But these humans with φ-shaped marks on their bodies are different.
They stood there like a group of iron stakes driven into the ground; unless you uproot them, they would remain there forever, poking your feet.
What the alien commander found even more incomprehensible was that they actually sent an assassination squad to kill it.
And I touched it.
The alien commander looked down at the healing wound on the side of his neck.
The wound was short, only two fingers wide, but very deep; it almost severed its carotid artery.
If it hadn't tilted its head at the last second, the knife wouldn't be stuck in the rock behind it now.
The knife was still stuck in the rock, the blade embedded in the crevice, with only the hilt showing.
The alien commander let out a low growl, and the messenger immediately sprang out of the shadows, paws on the ground, head bowed, awaiting orders.
This is the seventh time.
It has requested aid from the king seven times, drawing ground creatures from the other four battlefields to reinforce the main battlefield.
Ninety percent of the Earth-type species in the Apocalypse Paradise direction were taken away, fifty percent in the Death Paradise direction, and seventy percent each in the Holy Light Paradise and Holy Domain Paradise directions.
Those who were transferred to the front lines were thrown into the main battlefield in batches, and then died one after another beneath the city walls.
The main battlefield is now a giant meat grinder. You throw a ground-dwelling seed in, it spins around twice and comes out as minced meat.
If you throw 100,000 in, it will shred 100,000.
It will grind as much as you throw in, with no upper limit, no saturation, and no possibility of spitting it out when it's full.
The alien commander raised his arm and let out a second roar.
The messenger visibly stiffened. This order meant that the entire orc force was ordered to attack without retreat, and anyone who disobeyed would be executed on the spot.
The messenger turned and ran. The alien commander knew that the order would not have much effect. The orcs were already terrified. If you forced them to charge, they would pretend to be hit by stray bullets on the way and then fall to the ground and play dead.
Orcs have perfected the art of feigning death. They can lie motionless for three hours on a battlefield littered with corpses, their breathing rate dropping to twice per minute and their heartbeat slowing to a point where even the fissioners cannot detect it.
But the alien commander must give this order.
It needs to give the king an explanation—I have used all the available troops, I have driven the orcs to the brink of destruction. If you still feel the losses are too great, that is your problem, not mine.
As the alien commander thought of this, another drop of blood seeped from the wound on his neck.
It wiped away the drop of blood with the tip of its paw and licked it on the tip of its tongue.
The smell of blood reminded it of something else—the people in the Paradise of Reincarnation seemed truly unafraid of death.
What the alien commander didn't know was that the group of lunatics were currently leaning against the city wall, smoking and estimating how many aliens they had killed that day.
Nobody talks about death.
The two amusement parks near the Paradise of Reincarnation were badly damaged in this battle.
The headquarters of Apocalypse Paradise is closest to the main battlefield. Although the alien commander only drew 90% of the troops from that direction, the remaining 10% is still enough to give the people of Apocalypse Paradise a hard time.
The nameless saint and his men had to retreat back into the spaceship after only an hour of defense, not because they were outmatched, but because the losses were too great.
Sending a contractor whose primary skill is mining to fight a land-dwelling species head-on is about the same as sending a cook to the battlefield—he can fight, but he can't fight for long.
The situation at Holy Light Paradise is even worse.
Viola and her men held out outside the base camp for less than an hour before being forced to retreat. After being chased by the Earthwalkers for three kilometers, the girls in their beautiful robes finally realized one thing—this war was not the childish, playground-like conflict they had fought before, but a real racial war.
The aliens won't show you mercy just because your robes are nice, nor will they turn away just because you cry your heart out on the battlefield.
The Death Paradise lasted for two hours.
Cohen and his men fought off the aliens outside the base camp for two hours, but in the end they had no choice but to retreat back to their spaceship.
His two-handed greatsword chipped at the blade, and his light armor was torn in several places. More than a dozen of his contractors died, and more than twenty were seriously injured.
He stood on the spaceship's gangway, looking at the distant sky reddened by gunfire, and remained silent for a long time before uttering two words.
"madman."
He was referring to the group of people in the Paradise of Reincarnation.
I'm not criticizing them, I'm evaluating them.
To be able to hold out for four hours on the main attack route of the alien army without retreating, what else could it be but madness?
At 11 p.m., the alien army completely withdrew from the searchlight's range.
The distant wilderness was plunged back into darkness, with only a few scattered lights flickering on the horizon—the burning remnants of the Peleliu barrel explosion.
On the city wall, engineering students began cleaning up the battlefield.
The mechanical dogs ran out from the slope below the city wall, their mechanical legs trudging through the piles of corpses, each step bringing up a large patch of sticky flesh and blood.
The robotic arm extends from the abdomen, picks up the corpse of the ground-dwelling creature from the ground, and throws it into a drag net. Once the drag net is full, it is lifted away by a drone and transported to a designated incineration area outside the fortress.
The entire cleanup process lasted nearly two hours.
In two hours, the robotic dogs dragged away more than 200,000 corpses. The remaining corpses were scattered in more distant areas and could not be cleared until daytime.
The flames in the incineration area burned from midnight until the next morning, casting dancing shadows on the fortress walls like a giant shadow swaying on the walls.
At 1 a.m., a message from the Dean appeared on the war channel of the Samsara Paradise.
"No sleep tonight. Everyone will take turns resting, and one-third of our forces will remain on the city walls in standby. The aliens won't give us much time; they will most likely launch a second attack before dawn."
Below the message were a series of replies, with some asking what to eat for late-night snacks and others asking if they could have some drinks.
The dean's reply was concise: "Eat the cafeteria food, drink the cafeteria wine, sleep in the cafeteria bed, and don't even think about anything the cafeteria doesn't have."
King Kong leaned against the city wall, holding a can of beer he had smuggled from the spaceship's cafeteria. He tilted his head back, took a sip, and then wiped the foam from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
"What do you think the alien species are thinking right now?"
The tall, thin man squatting next to him stubbed out his cigarette against the wall. "Thinking about how to kill us."
King Kong nodded and took another sip of beer.
"They must have been thinking very hard; they couldn't figure it out even after thinking all night."
A few people nearby laughed out loud. The laughter wasn't loud, but it carried far in the night breeze.
The alien commander didn't think about it all night; it made its decision at 2 a.m.
It summoned all the fission commanders and held a war meeting on a clearing that had been temporarily cleared by the earth-walkers.
In the center of the open space, a simple map was made of rubble, marking the location of the Paradise of Reincarnation fortress, the height and thickness of the city walls, and the distribution of firing points.
This intelligence was transmitted back by the parasites before they were discovered. Although it was incomplete, it was enough for the alien commander to have a basic understanding of the fortress's defense system.
"The cost of a direct breakthrough is too high."
A fission creature's forelimb traced a line on the map, pointing towards the north side of the fortress.
"The defenses in the northern section are weaker than those in the eastern section, so we can shift our main offensive focus to the northern section."
"The northern section of the city wall is lower than the eastern section, but the terrain below the northern section is more complex, with piles of rubble and bushes, making it difficult for heavy units to deploy."
What about the western section?
"In the western section there is that dry riverbed, which can be used as cover for the charge, but the riverbed is too narrow, and only less than a hundred ground-dwelling species can be deployed at a time."
The fissioners argued for nearly half an hour but still couldn't find a solution that would satisfy everyone.
It's not that they are incompetent, but rather that the defense system of the Paradise of Reincarnation fortress is too complete.
The city walls are eight meters high and two meters thick, with a composite armor structure. There is a turret every twenty meters and a watchtower every fifty meters. The patrol passage above the city walls is three meters wide and can accommodate ten people walking side by side at the same time.
The firepower density above and below the city walls was sufficient to eliminate any enemy attempting to approach the walls in a short time.
This is not the level of defense a temporary camp should have; it's the kind of setup you'd expect from a military fortress.
The alien commander raised its forelimbs and slapped the map, sending rubble flying everywhere.
"There's no need to change our main attack direction. No matter how strong the people under the city walls are, their stamina is limited. We'll use ground-based creatures to fill the gaps until their defenses have a breach, and then we'll charge in."
"How much do I need to fill in?"
The alien commander remained silent for a moment.
One million.
The open space fell silent.
The fission species looked at their commander, and for the first time, hesitation appeared in their radiating pupils.
One million ground-dwelling species.
This number represents the total number of troops they deployed across the entire fall zone battlefield.
If all one million Earthwalkers were fed into the meat grinder beneath the Paradise of Reincarnation fortress, even if the fortress were eventually captured, the losses suffered by the alien species would be enough to completely deprive them of the initiative in this war.
But the alien commander was right—if you don't fill in the gaps, you'll never be able to take it down.
If you fill it out, there's still a chance.
"Should we try to take the other four points first?"
"I'll go tell the king." The alien commander stood up from the ground and turned to walk towards the hill.
4:30 a.m.
On the walls of the Paradise of Reincarnation fortress, the contractors on guard duty are changing shifts.
The daytime garrison crawled out of their tents, rubbed their eyes, and walked up the city wall to relieve the night shift workers who had been guarding the wall all night.
Lin Yi walked out of the medical tent, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold, and stood at the tent entrance looking at the gray skyline in the distance.
He brought the coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. The coffee was cold, and it had a sour taste.
"Teacher, you should go and rest." Hina Sorasaki walked over from the direction of the castle wall, her black wings folded in the morning light, and she had deep dark circles under her eyes.
"President Rion is directing the engineering department to repair the city wall. We still have about 60% of our ammunition reserves, enough medical supplies for one more day, and enough food and water for three days. You don't need to make any decisions until we run out of supplies."
Lin Yi glanced at her and shook his head.
"It's alright, that's how the world is at war, I'm used to it."
Hina Sorasaki was silent for a moment, then took out a piece of chocolate from her pocket, tore open the wrapper, and handed it to Lin Yi.
"Then let's eat something."
Lin Yi took the chocolate and took a bite.
Chocolate is very sweet, almost cloyingly so, and the sugar is quickly absorbed by the body after melting in the mouth.
"Hina."
"Ah."
How long do you think this war will last?
Hina Sorasaki thought for a moment, then spoke.
"Either we fight the aliens and they retreat, or we retreat. There is no third possibility."
Lin Yi stuffed the remaining chocolate into his mouth, chewed it twice, and swallowed it.
"That won't be long."
On the city wall, beams of searchlight swept through the morning mist, revealing mechanical dogs carrying corpses in the distance.
They moved through the piles of corpses, their robotic arms picking up one ground-dwelling carcass after another and tossing them into the drag net.
Su Xiao walked from the direction of the southern section of the city wall, with the Dragon Slayer Flash hanging at his waist.
He stopped at the foot of the city wall, took out a cigarette from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and lit it.
Smoke billowed from his nostrils and drifted slowly into the morning mist.
He finished his cigarette, stubbed it out on the city wall, and then turned and walked towards the canteen.
The cafeteria was packed with people.
Students in Kivotos lined up in long queues at the food counter with their trays piled high with rice, stir-fried vegetables, canned meat, and a bowl of hot soup.
Some people fell asleep at the table while eating, while others were discussing the details of yesterday's battle with the person next to them. They started arguing, but then fell silent after a few words, because both of them felt that arguing over such a trivial matter was a waste of energy.
The contractors of the Reincarnation Paradise sat in a corner of the cafeteria, their plates filled with the same food as the students, but their meals were far inferior to those of the students.
Some people ate with their hands, some stuffed food into their pockets while eating, and some licked their plates clean after finishing before realizing they had done something stupid.
King Kong sat at the very back of the dining hall, with three empty plates stacked together in front of him.
He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped on his stomach, his eyes half-open and half-closed, like a bear basking in the sun after a good meal.
"Old Jin." A voice came from the cafeteria entrance.
King Kong opened his eyes and looked towards the doorway.
A tall, thin man stood at the entrance of the cafeteria, holding a battle report that had just been printed from the engineering department.
"There's been some movement from the alien species."
King Kong sat up straight in his chair.
What's that noise?
"The orc forces have withdrawn from the main battlefield and headed towards the Paradise of Apocalypse."
The cafeteria was quiet for a moment, then burst into laughter.
King Kong laughed too, but there was a hint of schadenfreude in his smile.
"Apocalypse Paradise is going to be in trouble."
The headquarters of Apocalypse Paradise was attacked by orc forces at 5:00 AM.
The orc army is small, numbering less than two hundred million, but their fighting style is more organized than that of the aliens.
They used pyrotechnic barrels to clear the way, catapults to suppress the enemy's firing points on the city walls, and ladders to scale the walls. The entire attack was carried out in an orderly manner, like a well-trained army carrying out a meticulously planned siege.
The nameless saint stood on the city wall, holding a mining shovel, his face ashen.
He didn't sleep a wink last night, waiting for the alien army's second attack.
Instead of the alien species, two hundred thousand orcs arrived.
What frustrated him even more was that although the orcs were not as strong as the aliens, they had a large number of people.
"Get everyone up, the orcs are attacking the city." The nameless saint's voice carried an indescribable weariness.
The nameless saint stood on the city wall, looking at the orcs carrying the Periwinkle barrels in the distance, and a thought surged in his mind—what exactly did the Paradise of Reincarnation do that made the alien commander willing to send orcs to attack the Paradise of Apocalypse rather than leave the orcs on the main battlefield as cannon fodder?
Unbeknownst to him, the madmen of the Reincarnation Paradise were currently leaning against the city wall, smoking and chatting, discussing what dishes would be served in the cafeteria for lunch. (End of Chapter)