Western Front, Boro Province, Surak County.
After returning to the operations base, Pete first settled the wounded, then reported the allied troops who had come under artillery fire to his superiors.
The matter should have been over. He had been about to return to the barracks to sleep when gunfire erupted in northern Surak County. He had no choice but to lead his men to the assembly point and board the armored personnel carrier parked outside the farmhouse with his centurion.
Sitting in the open-topped carrier, the young soldiers eagerly rubbed their hands together.
"From the sound of it, it's at least a centuria."
"...Most likely Mammoth's resistance. I heard those guys are elites equipped with Alliance exoskeletons."
"We have those too."
There had been no shortage of fighting in the Great Desert, but there had been very few tough battles.
Especially where the 17th Myriad, led by Olet, was stationed: Port of Eternal Night.
There were aircraft, artillery, and shallow-draft heavy gunboats supporting the coast. Their opponents were either native rebels armed with pipe rifles or gray-skinned mutant tribes.
Many of the young soldiers had never even seen where the enemy was. By the time a round of artillery fire was over, the battle had already been won.
As for the mutants hiding in the ruins of the city, they generally did not bother going after them unless necessary.
After all, there was no profit in conquering land deep in the Great Desert's interior. The Legion desired land beneath the sun, but it did not want every piece of land.
No matter what, they could finally fight a worthy opponent. Whether ordinary soldiers or officers, all of them felt somewhat eager to try.
As the group chatted, an older veteran suddenly furrowed his brow.
"...That gunfire sounds familiar."
Pete