Reinforcements Have Arrived

"Look, Guide has issued a mission, calling on all players to come and assist in the rescue."

Turtle handed the data pad to his other companions.

"Participating in the rescue grants 5,000 Contribution Points, with an additional 20-100 points for every Imperial citizen saved."

"My goodness, Guide is really splashing out this time."

Ten-Timer did some quick math.

Beyond the mission rewards, one had to account for the kill bounties as well.

This mission would cost at least a million Contribution Points in payouts.

"War is just burning money," Warmaster, standing nearby, agreed with Ten-Timer.

And this was only a small-scale rescue operation.

If a large-scale campaign like those in the Warhammer world were to break out.

Wouldn't that require dumping trillions of Contribution Points all at once?

"Should we try to break through and take a look?" Wrist Bro suggested. "We could communicate with the people inside while we're at it."

Ten-Timer shook his head immediately. "I don't think so. I'm already nearly a million Contribution Points in debt for this set of gear. If I die, it'll be a massive loss."

"Let's wait and see. We should wait for Guide to bring the main force over."

Turtle leaned toward Ten-Timer's perspective.

The set of sensory cybernetics he was wearing wasn't cheap, either.

Suddenly, intense combat erupted in the corridor leading from Sector B-13Y to Sector B-14Y.

A Chimera armored transport vehicle came rumbling out along the metal corridor.

The Chimera was the most common transport vehicle in the Imperial military.

It was highly popular due to its durability and ease of maintenance.

The laser array atop the Chimera fired continuously, clearing away the Plague Zombies attempting to close in.

Dozens of soldiers wielding Lasguns followed behind the transport.

They were well-trained, precise in their marksmanship, and excellent in close-quarters combat.

In no time, they had carved a path through the tide of corpses.

More soldiers rushed out along the corridor.

They set up simple fortifications along the way, establishing a defensive line.

"Infantry and armor coordination—they're working well together. Looks like a well-trained army."

Warmaster observed the battle in the distance and offered his praise.

A group of civilians poured out of Sector B-14Y once the army had established their makeshift defensive line.

"They're trying to break out," Warmaster frowned. "Damn it, if they could just wait a little longer, our reinforcements would be here."

"They don't know we're coming to support them," Turtle said.

"Sector B-13Y and Sector B-15Y are both blocked, and the number of Plague Zombies is only increasing."

"Any sane person would choose to force a breakout; otherwise, being trapped in Sector B-14Y is a death sentence."

Seeing the lackeys of the False Emperor attempting to break out, the Nurgle Blessed let out a roar.

He drove the shambling Plague Zombies to surround them.

He intended to use sheer numbers to halt the breakout attempt.

Cultists also mingled among the Plague Zombies, firing at the Imperial soldiers and throwing incendiary bombs and grenades.

Ah! Ah!

Molotov cocktails exploded beside two soldiers.

They were instantly transformed into human fireballs, screaming incessantly.

The gunner atop the Chimera fired precision shots at the Cultists within the corpse tide.

But the enemy was too numerous, and they were using the tide of corpses as cover, making them difficult to spot.

Suddenly, two Cultists charged out, clutching explosive satchels.

"It's a Fanatic! Shoot him down, don't let them get close!"

The Imperial soldiers behind the cover shouted in terror, ordering their comrades to focus fire on the two Cultists.

The Cultists were instantly turned into sieves.

But the explosive satchels were still tossed near the defensive line.

Boom!

The terrifying explosion blew several nearby soldiers into pieces on the spot.

Shattered viscera were splattered everywhere.

Plague Zombies poured in through the blasted-open breach.

They overwhelmed the evacuating civilians, tearing into their flesh.

Seeing this, the other civilians were terrified, screaming incessantly.

The once-orderly line descended into utter chaos.

"In the name of the Emperor, Mother, I'm coming."

A soldier who had been tackled shouted, pulling the pin on his grenade to perish alongside a dozen Plague Zombies.

"If it were just the army, breaking out wouldn't be hard. But with civilians to escort, I fear they won't make it out."

Warmaster frowned, watching the Imperial soldiers sacrifice themselves to buy time for the civilians, his heart heavy with pity.

"I can't bear to watch this anymore." Twisted Man turned his head away.

"Damn it, do the developers of this game have to make every NPC storyline like this?"

Witnessing the brutal and realistic battlefield, Ten-Timer felt an agonizing torment in his heart.

In Warhammer Online, every NPC and storyline was unique.

When an NPC died, they stayed dead.

When a storyline was missed, it was gone forever; there were no chances for regret.

"We shouldn't just be thinking about leveling up." Warmaster looked at his teammates.

"Life has made us forget the original intent of playing games, leaving us with nothing but leveling, grinding for gear, and competing for dominance."

"Games should be worlds that allow us to choose different lives, letting us fulfill dreams that reality cannot."

"I finally understand why Warhammer Online designed every NPC and every event to be unique."

"Perhaps this game wants us to truly experience another life, rather than simply leveling up and chasing gear."

"Maybe one day, we will become very, very strong in this game. But we will remember today countless times, remembering our cowardice as we let a group of innocent people die miserably right in front of us."

"The right to choose is still in our hands. Do we charge out and fight bravely for them, or stay here like cowards, waiting for endless self-reproach and regret in the future?"

Warmaster's words made the eyes of several players turn red.

"You're right, this game shouldn't just be about leveling and gear; we should treat it as another life." Turtle nodded: "I choose to fight."

"Count me in."

"Heh, death is just another few hundred thousand in debt, what's there to fear? Let's charge."

Warmaster looked at Ten-Timer, "And you, my brother?"

"It's a real shame you aren't giving speeches in a tavern with that eloquence."

Ten-Timer stood up, seven Aether Shards crystallized into ice appearing in his hands.

"Then let's move. I'll take responsibility for sniping that Plague Blessed and drawing their fire."

"Then we charge with everything we've got and tell them that reinforcements are coming, so they can hold their ground and minimize casualties."

Warmaster adjusted his Lasgun to maximum power.

He aimed his rifle at the distant Nurgle Blessed, holding his breath and focusing his mind.

"Holy Emperor, for the sake of your subjects, protect us."

With the prayer finished, he pulled the trigger.

The laser tore through the air with a piercing shriek.

The Nurgle Blessed that was struck let out a roar of agony.

The surging tide of corpses fell into chaos as a result.

"For honor, for the Emperor!"

Ten-Timer shouted, waving his hand.

The seven Aether Shards traced elegant arcs through the air.

In an instant, they pierced through the Cultists and Plague Zombies in front of them.

They fell in swathes, like weeds under a scythe.

"Charge!"

Warmaster shouted.

"Time for a massacre!"

Mantis Blades sprang from Twisted Man's hands.

He leaped down from the pipe, instantly cleaving a Plague Zombie in two.

He spun and swung his blades, slicing another zombie in half at the waist.

The others opened fire with their rifles.

The five of them coordinated closely, driving into the tide of enemies like the tip of a spear.

The Chimera in the distance noticed the movement of the five-man squad.

Two small Hellstrike Missiles launched from the rear of the infantry fighting vehicle.

Trailing plumes of fire, they landed in the direction the five were advancing.

Accompanied by explosions, swarms of Plague Zombies were blown to pieces, clearing a path.

The five-man squad successfully rendezvoused with the besieged Imperial forces.

Captain Aing, commander of the Automata 101st Light Infantry Regiment, scrutinized the few people before him.

"Who are you?"

Warmaster performed an Aquila Salute to the other party, "I am the Armament Director of the warship Imperial Glory, and a God Chosen of the great God-Emperor."

"I have come here to tell you that our forces will arrive to provide support shortly."

"You do not need to rush a breakout; avoid unnecessary casualties."

"Imperial Glory? Support?" Captain Aing wore a look of suspicion, "Are you from the Imperial Navy?"

"You could say that." Warmaster nodded, "Retreat back first; our people will be here soon."

Captain Aing looked at the few people before him, then at the soldiers and civilians beside him.

The Plague Zombies were increasing in number, and the civilians were terrified.

If they were to force a breakout, it would be considered fortunate if even a third of them survived.

"Fine, I will trust you once." Captain Aing ordered the sergeant beside him, "Retreat to Sector B-14Y."

Under the cover of the Chimera transport vehicles, the squad successfully retreated, establishing a defensive line to resist the tide of corpses.

Walking into Sector B-14Y, the players discovered many injured civilians and soldiers lying on the ground, and felt a sudden sense of relief in their hearts.

If they had not appeared in time, Captain Aing would very likely have abandoned these wounded.

Of course, they were not condemning such behavior.

Aing did not know that support was coming.

In the other party's perception, Lycade Station had fallen, the Imperial loyalists were wiped out, and only enemies remained.

In a situation of isolation and helplessness, necessary cruelty was the only way to allow more people to survive.

Inside Sector B-14Y, there were two hundred soldiers, two Chimeras, and over a thousand civilians.

The civilians huddled in groups of three or five, trembling, either weeping or praying.

As Ten-Timer and the other players passed by, those civilians watched them with eyes full of fear and expectation.

They already knew that these people had broken in from the outside.

Before long, more support would arrive to save them.

"Is it necessary to make it this realistic?" Twisted Man lowered his voice and said, "The look in these people's eyes makes it feel like their despair is overflowing; I can't stand it."

"Don't say anymore." Warmaster could also feel it, which made his mood inexplicably heavy.

"We will be saved soon, support is coming, you must try to pull yourselves together."

Aing kept repeating this to the people along the way, trying to put them at ease and boost their morale.

"Hold on, Ganfu. You'll be fine, rescue is coming, just hold on."

A voice filled with pain drifted over.

The player squad followed Captain Aing as he walked over.

They discovered several soldiers surrounding a young soldier on a stretcher.

The young soldier's chest had been torn open, and bright red blood gushed out, impossible to stop.

"Captain Aing." The young soldier saw Captain Aing and reached out his hand toward him.

"Private, Ganfu." Aing crouched down and grasped the young soldier's hand.

"My performance was brave enough, right? Can I enter the realm of the God-Emperor?"

"I'm so scared, I think I heard the cries of those monsters, they... they want to eat me."

The young soldier spoke while coughing up blood.

"No, Ganfu, you are very brave." Aing said, "The God-Emperor is proud of you; you have fulfilled your duty. He will kiss your forehead and hold you in His embrace; those monsters cannot hurt you."

The captain's words brought a smile to the young soldier's face.

Shortly after, he died.

This scene left the five players in the squad feeling a tightness in their chests.

This was the despair and helplessness of the Warhammer style.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The sound of explosions arrived.

A soldier ran over in a hurry.

"Captain, there are friendly forces approaching from outside."

Aing looked at the player squad with an excited expression, "Are they your people?"

"Yes," Warmaster nodded.

"Move out immediately and rendezvous with our allies," Aing ordered his soldiers.

PS: Sisters of Battle: I refuse to accept this, why wasn't I chosen?