How Is Blowing Up Both the Enemy and Friendlies Not Infantry-Artillery Coordination?

After receiving the combat orders, Third Squad, having just won the right to use the vehicle, immediately sprang into action. The Squad Leader unhesitatingly picked the two fastest-reacting Players in the squad. The three of them climbed into the newly produced Wyvern together and began familiarizing themselves with its controls in the somewhat cramped compartment.

The rest of the squad quickly spread out around the vehicle, establishing a temporary circular perimeter. They watched their surroundings vigilantly, ensuring their vehicle would not be ambushed by enemies sneaking up on them.

With the help of the game's built-in assistance system, the basic operation of the driving and weapons systems was not particularly difficult for the Players, and they got the hang of it quickly. But before long, the three-man crew discovered the crux of the problem.

As vehicle commander, Third Squad's Squad Leader locked onto the distant enemy position through the roof periscope. He skillfully adjusted the eyepiece and, with the system's simple rangefinder and wind-direction sensor, swiftly calculated the target data. He pressed the intercom button and issued orders to the gunner in the most professional tone he could manage:

"Gunner, attention! Bearing eleven o'clock, reference point is that half-collapsed red-brick building. About fifty meters to the left of the reference point, there's a temporary fortification piled up with scrap. Range, 850 meters. Target is a cluster of Cultists behind the fortification. Light wind from three o'clock. Prepare for a rapid salvo, fire for effect!"

Yet after the order was given, silence came from the gunner's position, followed by an embarrassed reply. "Uh... Squad Leader, this thing... it doesn't show a trajectory arc! I couldn't find any firing tables either. I have no idea how far the shells will fly at different elevation angles!"

The Squad Leader was stunned by this as well. Only then did he realize that it really was the case. When they had thrown fragmentation grenades before, the game had not provided any trajectory assistance either. Everything depended entirely on the Players' instincts. It was just that the game's realism was so good that everyone had subconsciously accepted the setting. No one had stopped to realize that throwing projectiles in a game should have had a trajectory display.

After all, grenades were just thrown by hand. They had all thrown rocks and the like in real life before, so after weighing one in their hand, they could roughly judge how far it would go. But mortars... who the hell had ever operated one personally in real life?

The Squad Leader scratched his head, unable to come up with a solution for the moment. In the end, he could only say recklessly, "How about... you just go by feel and fire one salvo first? We'll see where they land."

The gunner's voice immediately jumped an octave. "...Squad Leader, are you serious? One salvo is four shells, and that costs 120 Merit! Even if you went alone against a hundred Cultists, you might not earn that much!"

"What are you afraid of?" The Squad Leader waved his hand grandly. "The Company Commander is paying!"

"Alright! I'm firing!"

Hearing that, the gunner had no more reservations. Through the main console, he adjusted the quad mortars to an angle that felt reasonably reliable, then decisively pressed the launch button.

Meanwhile, at the frontline position on the other side, Seventh Squad was acting as the assault spearhead, brutally tearing apart the enemy formation. Though the Cultists caught in the sudden attack were frantically trying to resist, their collapse was already unmistakable beneath Seventh Squad's storm-like offensive. At this rate, the Players would soon crush them with ease, without needing any other squads to intervene.

After all, Seventh Squad's Squad Leader, [Big Eagle Cop], was a genuine Ogryn. In terms of pure physical strength, he was a terrifying existence capable of wrestling with a Thunder Warrior—the precursor to a Space Marine. Though he would certainly be the one to lose in the end, he was still far beyond what a mere hundred-odd rank-and-file Cultists could possibly withstand.

However, just as Seventh Squad was killing to their hearts' content and enjoying the thrill of mowing down everything in their path, a piercing whistling sound suddenly descended from the sky. These Players had never personally experienced artillery bombardment, at most hearing it from afar, and instinctively raised their heads... That fatal action cost them their last chance to react and evade. By the time they realized what was happening, it was already too late to do anything.

"Boom—boom boom boom!"

Amid earth-shaking explosions, four Storm Mortar Shells precisely blanketed the entire Cultist position—and Seventh Squad at its center. The violent blasts hurled sand, gravel, severed limbs, and broken bodies into the sky. By the time the thick smoke and dust slowly dispersed, nothing remained where they had stood. Only a vast cluster of shell craters declared what had just occurred.

The other Players responsible for fire support in the distance all fell into stunned silence at the sight.

"Holy shit... one artillery salvo is this powerful?"

"I retract my slander about the Astra Militarum lacking heavy firepower."

"But I heard that one salvo costs 120 Merit."

"I renew my slander about Astra Militarum heavy firepower being expensive."

"A real chameleon, this one."

Amid the Players' casual banter, the deeply unfortunate Seventh Squad, located at the center of the bombardment, revived in the rear Chemical Refinery. [Big Eagle Cop]'s brawny figure stormed over to his squad's field radio. He grabbed the handset and roared, "What the hell, brothers! Are you the only ones playing this game? Look where you sent those shells flying!"

Over the field radio, Third Squad's Squad Leader was also in a state of extreme embarrassment. He gave a dry cough and hurriedly apologized, "Sorry, brother, our mistake. Purely a mistake! I'll buy you guys a new set of equipment from the shop later, on me!"

"Forget it! We're all fucking brothers!" Though [Big Eagle Cop] still had some anger left, he ultimately waved his hand and said in a gruff voice, "Our gear wasn't worth much anyway. Just don't go firing shells all over the damn place next time!"

Ruan Wenbo, who had witnessed all of this, did not show much anger. Instead, his expression held a calmness mixed with helplessness and resignation.

In his view, Players attempting infantry-artillery coordination and blowing their own people into the sky was almost bound to happen. Honestly, Third Squad's first blind salvo hitting the enemy position so accurately had already greatly exceeded his expectations.

But the problem that followed immediately gave him a real headache.

One ranging salvo cost 120 Merit. If every squad taking over the Wyvern had to go through this learning process of using expensive shells to get a feel for it and calibrate the trajectory, then friendly fire would be a secondary issue. At least this time, they had hit the enemy. More often, they would probably fire into empty ground—or worse, miss the enemy completely and send every shell onto their allies' heads.

Ruan Wenbo vaguely realized that he might have been thinking too simply. Compared to the 2,000 Merit spent purchasing the vehicle itself, the truly costly expense would likely be the endless stream of shells that needed replenishing afterward. Would his remaining Merit last through that?

He still had to bring that Tech-Priest and that Skitarii unit over as soon as possible...