"Let us raise a toast to victory!"
"Hahaha, cheers!"
"Long live The Alliance!!"
North Street of Dawn City, at the roadside inn beside the trade station.
The sky outside had not fully darkened yet, but the first-floor lobby, packed with tables and chairs, was already filled with the scent of beer foam and the roar of lively voices.
News of the victory had sprouted wings and flown back from the front lines to Dawn City in the northern suburbs of Clear Spring City.
Thanks to the broadcast in the square and the little screen hanging behind the bar, the drunks sitting here had not been the last to hear the news.
Whether merchants, travelers, caravan guards, or mercenaries, when they heard that the New Alliance's army had defeated the Bonechewer Tribe on the main battlefield, everyone instinctively cheered in their hearts for the Administrator clad in power armor.
For a long time, the Bonechewer Tribe had been a name that made countless wastelanders pale at its mention.
Spreading from the central north to the south, they were like a walking plague. Wherever they went, they left scorched earth behind. Hundreds of survivor settlements had been wiped from the map, and no one had been able to stop their advance.
And now, they had finally kicked an iron plate and been beaten so badly by The Alliance's iron fist that all their teeth had fallen out.
"They wiped out twenty-seven tanks in one battle! Great Horned Deer God above, how many soldiers did they even mobilize?!"
"I don't really get it. Those... tanks... hic, are they really that impressive?" a drunken mercenary asked, sprawled across the bar as he burped.
"Impressive? Hahaha, are you kidding? Those things are complete monsters, fortresses walking on land! They're not something ordinary people can deal