Players Invade Cyberpunk

If it weren't for the fact that the slopes of the two high grounds ahead were too steep, with slopes of over forty degrees making it tough even for tanks to ascend, Olivia would have long ago ordered his armored units to cooperate with the infantry and forcibly seize the positions.

Instead of using human lives to fill the gap like he is now.

"Report, drone reconnaissance team reports signs of enemy activity six kilometers ahead, but they mostly appear to be infantry."

"Where are their artillery positions? Found any?"

"No, they seem to be hiding."

"Still no news?"

A gloomy feeling lingered in Walter's heart.

When he first heard that Light had been routed by merely a hundred or two hundred men, he privately mocked Light's men as incompetent. But when truly facing this group, he felt a terror rising from within.

This unit exhibited such a strong will to fight that compared to willpower, combat skills were secondary. In a narrow confrontation, the brave win, but this was no ordinary bravery; damn, these were natural battle maniacs.

But how could such a unit exist in this world?

When he served in the New America Revival Army before, wherever he went, the Free State's units would crumble like paper, surrendering without a fight, their surrender coming faster than they did.

Even New America's own atonement camps, brainwashed and controlled killers, didn't reach this level.

When had he ever seen a unit willing to fight to the death?

"No movements detected for now."

"..."

Walter's adjutant was somewhat puzzled by his caution.

"Sir, according to Light's report from yesterday, the enemy's artillery count isn't high. They only seem to have two 105s seized from Ulysses and some small caliber mortars, posing little threat to our armored units…"

These 105 howitzers are quite effective against infantry, killing dozens with a single shot. But against armored vehicles and tanks with thick armor, they pose little threat unless detonated close enough to break tracks or penetrates. As for the other rocket launchers and mortars, they might cause some shaking but would cause significant damage to tanks only by sheer luck.

Walter looked at the adjutant. "From the current enemy setup, they aren't the kind to act without intelligence. How can you be sure they don't have heavier hidden artillery?"

"Before we are sufficiently prepared, don't expose our position."

"This..."

The adjutant frowned.

"But, they abandoned that defensible high ground without firing a shot, leaving those men on the mountain to die..."

According to the Chaotic Blade Association's logic, they either were unwilling to use artillery, or deliberately sacrificed those men to eliminate dissatisfaction and reap benefits.

Besides, in the adjutant's mind, if he were the enemy commander, he would surely use all means to support the two hills, keeping everyone in the ravine and relying on troop quality to engage in an attrition war, which seemed like the safest approach.

And now they were just let in without preparation, perhaps a foolish waste of resources.

Walter glanced at the guy, knowing what he was thinking, but didn't remind him. After all, he wasn't Walter's man, merely Olivia's mole placed beside him, lacking commanding ability but skilled in intrigue.

He then asked,

"Where are Jevin's people? Why haven't I seen them?"

Jevin was in charge of the right wing infantry cover. After all, sending just tanks and armored cars forward without cover was simply exposing themselves to the enemy.

The adjutant replied helplessly,

"Just received word, those guys dug some holes again, sprung out for a surprise attack, went up the mountain, and were hit hard, Jevin and his men turned around for support. Covering units by Michael, but they haven't caught up yet."

Walter smirked,

"Instruct the units ahead to slow down the march, wait for our allies to fill the right wing, stay sharp, and be ready for a possible enemy assault."

"Yes."

————

Behind the Red Barrels was a second line, not made up of veteran players' elite, but three, four hundred mixed with new units. Many of these newbies were part of the first batch entering this version of the game, with basic combat skills not even reaching level 6 before being pulled to the battlefield.

Moreover, they hadn't dug large areas of cover or tunnels as Red Barrel did for concealment, nor did they have vantage points, only organized into combat companies of 100, each company with 3 people, one veteran player with two new players for combat, and a rolling stretch of hills.

Wildman's orders were to group every three combat squads into a platoon, garrison one small hill per platoon.

Over four hundred people constructed some twenty or thirty positions in this little hilly area, each less than two kilometers apart, close enough to visually observe the battles ahead.

Lacking the construction equipment akin to the Bull and Horse Construction Site, they couldn't dig tunnels and could only use-engineer spades to dig a few trenches for defense.

Tutu, on the forefront, fiddled with his [Colorful Mother Pig Communication] brand electric machine gun attached to his exoskeleton, ears filled with the sound of artillery from the front lines.

He could only enviously imagine the score from guarding for a full day. Had he known, he would have expanded Tuladine's assembly shop, forming a [Service After Trauma] department.

[Freud's Hobby] ran up the hill and jumped into the trench beside Tutu, saying,

"They've crossed Red Barrel's line, moving towards us."

"Great! Everyone to your posts, prepare to welcome our guests."

Tutu sneered as he loaded his machine gun.

"Show them what guaranteed after-sales service means!"

————

"Is that the enemy's position ahead?"

The adjutant, standing atop the vehicle, used a pair of binoculars to observe the players on the small hill and frowned,

"Why are there so few of them?"

The presence seemed to be just a dozen people—did this group suppose they could stop them?

He suspected whether these people were like before, had dug holes in the ground to hide some men.

"Why don't we just have the armored units charge through?"

"No."

Walter immediately rejected his idea.

"Without identifying the strength and location of their artillery fire, our armored units can't be risked, have the infantry attack, armored cars, and tanks provide fire support from the rear, advance only after taking the positions."

He undoubtedly chose a very cautious approach, what if tanks advance and stumble upon a field of anti-tank mines or some other ambush in front of their position?

Are the infantry worth less than my tanks?

The adjutant thought for a moment and agreed, promptly organizing a group of over two hundred soldiers to fiercely assault the fore hill.

Before the attack, not forgetting to let the tanks fire a couple of rounds.

Just about twenty or thirty people at a hundred-meter hill; it wouldn't take long to root them out.

An hour?

The adjutant mused.

Unbeknownst to him, this assault was even more painful and grueling than Light's previous attack on Hill 101.

Each shot from the tank's barrel hurled down like high-temperature molten from the tanks, exploding upon Tutu's position, flinging clumps of earth, as if an ice cream scoop melting off the mountaintop.

Then the Chaotic Blade Association's infantry began ascending. Although equipped with partial combat augments, their average skill level still fell short of mercenaries within Night City.

After all, Evil Land didn't possess the commercial environment or market of the city, no money to buy, nor availability.

Their strongest weapon remains the rifle, at least more reliable than a potentially jamming combat limb.

As the Chaotic Blade Association climbed the hill, fixated on the enemy position ahead, gunshots rang out from their flanks.

The poorly trained group was caught off guard by this attack. Some returned fire, while others hurriedly retreated downhill, leaving behind over a dozen bodies, and thus, the first wave of assault was clumsily repelled.

Before long, artillery once again roared over the plain.