What Gern had not expected was that The Alliance's intense offensive would last for three whole days.
Over those three days, light infantry carrying rifles infiltrated the urban district of Jinhe City through several entrances in the north, engaging in fierce firefights with the tribes under his command in streets, alleys, and the corridors of abandoned buildings.
Both sides suffered considerable casualties during that time.
According to reports from his warriors, more than a thousand tribesmen had already died in street fighting against Human Alliance soldiers, including quite a few large brutes who had undergone prosthetic modifications.
Of course, The Alliance's casualties were no less severe.
Bodies had piled into small hills at alley entrances, and blood had nearly dyed entire roads red.
Yet those people seemed incapable of fear, still charging forward in droves, firing as they ran and howling words the mutants could not understand.
Honestly, Gern was rather baffled.
If they were survivors from Jinhe City, that would be one thing. If those sheep suddenly lost their tempers one day and hated them to the bone, willing to give up their lives just to kill them, that was not entirely impossible.
But the problem was those lunatics in the north... He did not remember ever provoking them.
Other than that incident in Dust Town.
But that settlement was not Alliance territory, was it?
Just as Gern was growing increasingly frustrated, the tent flap was lifted, and a broad-shouldered mutant walked in. Cupping his fists, he said.
"My lord."
This man was named Delu, a warrior personally named by Gern, as well as a commander of a thousand men in the tribe.
When The Alliance's forces attacked, his tribe had been the first to exchange fire with them. Since the combat zone was also where his tribe had