Counterfeit Hero

Chapter 288: Volume 4, Chapter 47: Hunter Corps

One night had passed. When the cold sunlight once again graced Tanville, the citizens who had endured a harrowing night of artillery and panic found that the entire city had changed its appearance overnight.

On the streets, Armed Patrol Mecha and soldiers in Combat Uniforms were moving back and forth in rows. Street corners had been set up as barricades. The luckier ones could still stay at home, holding their terrified family members, watching the fully armed soldiers outside the windows, staring at the explosion marks at the street corners and the flames burning in distant buildings.

The unlucky ones had already been sent to their deaths by flying shells during the night. Even if they managed to survive, they still had to wander the streets because their homes had either been turned into bunkers or fortresses, or simply lay in the crossfire of both sides. They could only wear thin clothes, clutch their meager belongings, and trek to places far from the artillery fire in the cold winter.

However, the entire Tanville had turned into a gigantic battlefield. No matter which direction they walked in, there would be increasingly intense artillery fire, collapsed buildings, and burning skyscrapers. People could only halt their steps, finding a small wind-sheltered spot, staring blankly around.

On the roadside, almost no Flying Cars remained intact. Some were overturned by the roadside, some were trampled into scrap metal by the back-and-forth Military Mecha. Some Flying Cars had been turned into wreckage by explosions, the remains of their bodies bearing the marks of burning.

The flying highways that coiled around Tanville like ribbons were mostly damaged, with large holes blasted in the road surface. Huge chunks of concrete hung in mid-air, connected only by a few remaining steel bars and the magnetic metal strips of the road, swaying precariously. Many Flying Cars were stuck in the middle of the road, some people still looking around in terror inside, while more had joined the pedestrians, weaving through the traffic, trying to escape the city filled with artillery fire and smoke.

The ground roads below were crowded with mud-covered Land Mecha. Some injured soldiers, having just retreated, lay suffering at the sides of the streets. The few medics with white cross armbands on their sleeves were sweating profusely from their endless work. There were too many patients. Some severely injured soldiers received nothing more than a quick injection of painkiller before lying expressionless by the roadside, awaiting the arrival of death.

Some people, having lost family members or having collapsed under the sheer terror, wandered the streets, laughing foolishly at the hellish scenes around them. Their bodies seemed no longer under their control. Whenever a Military Flying Car or a moving Land Mecha passed by slowly, they ran after it like stray dogs, shouting meaningless words until the vehicle moved far away, then laughing nervously and muttering to themselves as they walked back.

In Tanville East District, a history professor hastily evacuated his house with his family. The old building, where he had lived for forty years, had become a shelter for two Mecha. The giant Mecha leaned against the building, their mechanical arms firing Energy Cannons fiercely at the street corner opposite.

Just ten minutes ago, the battlefield was still a whole street away from here, but the enemy’s advancement was too fast. The retreating soldiers, spurred on by their officers’ angry shouts, repeatedly returned to battle, trying to stabilize the defensive line.

The professor, dragging his wife and children, ran through the confused soldiers, had just crossed another street behind, when a huge explosion was heard. The old building he used to live in had been completely destroyed by several energy bullets. The professor, dumbstruck, watched the exploding Mecha and the collapsing building. Frightened and panicked, he suddenly heard his wife shaking his elder son desperately and screaming madly, ”Where’s your brother? Where’s your brother?”

The eight-year-old elder son cried hysterically, shivering all over, pointing in the direction of home, repeatedly crying, ”Toy... toy...”

”Boom!” Another violent explosion sounded next to the old building. The professor sat down despondently on the roadside, with his weeping wife, terrified elder son, running crowd, shooting soldiers, and flashing explosions. Everything turned black and white, becoming silent.

Having spent his life teaching Imperial War History, the professor closed his eyes in despair. The war had finally come to this country’s center, which had fought wars for hundreds of years. It turned out that the grand victories of the Imperial Army marching through foreign cities amidst cheers and frenzy, shown on TV and in the news, were accompanied by such misery and horror beside the cameramen.

Do not impose on others what you do not wish for yourself!

****************************************************************

The room was very quiet, and its high dome made this circular room seem somewhat empty. The morning sunlight shone through the synthetic bulletproof glass, falling on the electronic virtual sand table in the center of the room, making the constantly moving colorful virtual markers appear unusually bright.

This was the headquarters of the 42nd Division of the Defense Force stationed in the East District. Since this unit surrendered, the headquarters, originally covering nearly 400,000 square meters, had become Stephen’s forward base. The troops attacking the Central District Palace transferred through here, and the headquarters building’s meeting room was turned into a Command Room.

Stephen stared blankly at the virtual sand table, watching the numbers on the markers continuously change.