This Game Is Too Realistic

Old White looked sternly at Gale and asked, "Numbers and positions."

"Two on the rooftop, one in the west corner wall, two in the north side garage, one standing next to an oil drum, three by the window on the second floor. That's all I can see." Gale, who was watching everything through the drone, made the report calmly. He marked each target with a red dot on the map.

After confirming the target's locations, Old White gave the signal to attack.

As soon as they received the order, the members of the Burning Corps split up into three squads.

A squad, led by Night Ten, moved to a high slope on the west side of the research facility. Another squad moved to the left side of the main entrance and the rest were led by Old White personally as they rushed at the main entrance.

Mutants had sharp eyes, and their animal instincts quickly detected the anomaly in the darkness.

It was a shame. By the time they realized the calamity that would befall them, it was too late.

"Fire!"

At Old White's command, a series of explosions erupt from the west side of the research facility.

Bang, bang, bang!

Six heavy cavalries fired in unison as six thick tracer rounds streaked like lightning at the top floor of the research facility. The silence of night was instantly shredded.

In front of the 37mm armor-piercing incendiary rounds, the mutants' robust bodies were no different from paper. They either disintegrated completely or were shot into a sieve.

The searing magnesium-aluminum alloy spews sparks, roasting flesh into charred remains. Any mutant who weren't hit and survived rolled on the ground while squealing. Their dark green faces twisted in agony.

With no mercy and no hesitation, Old White led his squad swiftly into the research facility. Raising their assault rifle, his squad turned any mutant trying to rush at him into corpses.

After breaking through the first line of defense, the players waiting at the entrance swiftly followed. They circled to the back of the research facility, clearing every inch between the walls and the main building.

The west side occasionally resounded with gunfire like cannon fire, as they fired large-caliber armor-piercing incendiary rounds to shred mutants trying to fight back from the windows..

There was no suspense. The battle was a foregone conclusion, quickly turning into a one-sided slaughter.

Despite their formidable bodies and passable iron pipe rifles and axes, those mutants were clearly no match for the battle-hardened veterans.

In less than two minutes, the elites of the Burning Corps cleared the mutants in the research facility and rescued over a dozen captives locked in the basement who hadn't turned into mutant food.

There were both men and women among them, with the oldest in their thirties and the youngest around ten or so years old.

From what they wore, some of them were traders while others looked like villagers from nearby settlements.

When first rescued, they would curl up in the corners of the room. Their lifeless eyes were devoid of any light. They might be alive, but they were no different from corpses.

Only after their shackles were removed did they start to show signs of life again.

"It's alright now, we've cleared the mutants here, you're safe."

"Thank you, thank you!" One survivor just getting up from the ground tried to kneel again, only to be steadied by Old White's helping hand.

"No need to thank us, we are soldiers of the New Alliance, if you have nowhere to go, just head east. In the northern suburbs of Clearspring City, people there will take you in."

He didn't speak the language of the Federation Well, but that was a line he memorized a long time ago.

"New Alliance..." The survivor looked confused, but he repeated it several times as if he was trying to remember it.

"Yes." Old White gave the man an encouraging smile. "We're trying to establish a society different from others there. If you're tired of life on the wasteland, you can try heading over."

After watching the group leave, he returned to the research facility once more.

Looking at him, Tomato Eggs laughed, "Not bad, you are the poster child of the New Alliance indeed."

Old White chuckled in response, "You don't understand, this is called accumulating karma."

In their minds, the administrator would be watching over every resident. Loyal behavior could increase the chances of equipment allocation and hidden missions...

Although there was no solid evidence to prove the rumor, believing a little bit of it wouldn't hurt.

Because of their behavior, many of the New Alliance's residents benefited from their help, viewing them as heroes.

Whatever it was, to them, the NPCs in game were different from other open-world games. Even if they didn't save the world, they would be remembered for a long time even if they just did something small. Those NPCs would be genuinely grateful.

Quit Smoking couldn't help but ask, "How far are you from 100,000 contribution points?"

Old White thought for a second before he replied, "After this mission, I should be close to it."

"Awesome!" Night Ten grinned and shot him a thumbs up. However, he couldn't help but complain, "We're all doing the same missions here... Why are you racking up contribution points so quickly?!"

Old White couldn't help but chuckle in embarrassment, "Maybe it's the little things adding up."

Tomato Eggs smiled. "Hey, you're my good buddy, right? Let me touch you when you get an exoskeleton... Hehe."

"Sure, do you want me to take it off for you to touch, or do you want to touch me while I'm wearing it?" Old White joked.

Staring at Old White in shock, Quit Smoking looked as if he had discovered a new continent.

"Damn! Since when were you as dirty as that Night Ten bastard over there?"

"Hey, what the fuck? You can't throw strays at me when I'm here." Night Ten growled before changing the topic. "Enough nonsense. Let's get on with the mission!"

They didn't fly so far to jump out of place for fun.

Soon, everyone split up as a group went to the research facility's laser emission unit to physically open the rusted launch door.

Another group went to the control room on the third floor.

Fortunately, the backup generator still had some power left, so they didn't need to prepare a generator to charge the capacitors of the laser emission unit.

Standing in front of the control console, Old White confirmed the mission on his VM once again.

[Mission:Orbital Message in a Bottle]

[Description:Our war with the Army has reached a stalemate. Although we've successfully made them think they're fighting the Enterprise, it's hard to say how long this bluff can last. We need support from the East Coast. First, they need to know their old friend is in trouble. Urgently, we need to crash a satellite.]

[Requirement:Activate the research facility's laser emission unit, establish contact with the research satellite in geostationary orbit above, and complete the data transmission.]

The method to activate the laser emission unit was listed in a post below the mission requirement.

All they needed to do was to plug the data interface into the console before releasing a communication balloon to establish a connection to Shelter 404. Their job would be done then. They could leave the rest to their shelter staff.

Watching Old White plug the data interface into the console, Night Ten couldn't help but ask, "Are they really treating a satellite like a floating bottle in space?"

That's quite extravagant.

Gale, who had been staring at the console screen for a while, suddenly spoke up. "I'm more curious about how exactly they're making contact with the satellite in geostationary orbit through a laser here."

This technology is ridiculously advanced.

But compared to controlled nuclear fusion... It seems not entirely unbelievable?

Old White didn't think too much about it. He laughed, "Who knows, it's technology that exists hundreds of years later. You can't expect Light to make one in real life for you to test out first, right?"

A strange expression appeared on Gale's face.

A realistic virtual reality game and laser communication technology spanning 36,000 kilometers... It was hard to say which was more advanced.

Anyway, the bar on the console eventually filled up and the laser emission device of the research facility suddenly emitted a beam as thick as an arm.

It was hard to say exactly what color the light was. It was a color as elusive as its existence, flickering faintly with outlines of light red and light purple.

The beam pierced through the clouds and stabbed into the boundless depths of space.

As he stepped onto the rood of the research facility, Gale looked into the sky at the barely visible beam as he muttered to himself, "... If I were the Army, I'd definitely fire a shot here."

Old White couldn't help but laugh. "What are you thinking, we're over 200 kilometers away from that airship. What kind of shell can reach this far?"

200 kilometers...

That would require a tactical missile.

He's heard that Goblin Technology was researching short-range missiles, but no one had any idea how his progress was.

Whatever it was, that piece of shit Mosquito never had a reliable timeline. He would only say that he would be done soon whenever anyone asked.

Even though they were developing rockets already out of desperation, it had to be said that the New Alliance's technology tree was absolutely tilted to the wrong side.

"Fair point." Gale nodded thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the beam. However, he seemed to be thinking of something else.

Because of the Tyndall effect, even from a great distance, the beam was visible.

Was it the same 200 years ago?

Or could it be because the equipment was old and the output unstable that the scattered light was so visible?

Anyway, he had no one to ask. Things from 200 years ago wasn't something he could answer. Only those people from 200 years ago would know.

"Signal transmission complete, the satellite is confirmed to be leaving its orbit." Old White spoke into his earpiece, switching to the team channel.

Night Ten asked curiously, "Will we see a shooting star later?"

"Maybe on the East Coast, but it's doubtful we can see it from here." Old White smiled and picked up his rifle that was leaning against the wall. He patted the shoulder of his teammate and muttered, "Mission accomplished. Time to leave."

He heard that the Scientific Expedition Team retrieved some interesting data. He felt that he could ask about it if he was feeling bored on the way back.

...

At the same time, aboard the Heart of Steel,

General McClennan stood in the command center while listening to his subordinate's report.

The prey he had been obsessing over was still hiding from them in the concrete jungle of the Lucky Valley Municipality.

But to his relief, his dim-witted subordinates finally made a bit of progress.

With the help of an experienced local hunter, they've managed to hang two iron chains on the Deathclaw.

It wasn't enough to harm the beast, but enough to trouble it.

According to the hunter, those chains will act like harpoons in a whale. Since the beast's claws were too long, it wouldn't be able to remove the chains itself.

All they had to do next was to load it up with enough junk to restrict its movements, make it unable to hunt, wear it out, and eventually, it would collapse. Once that happened, it would be ready for the taking.

Through relentless attacks, they would weaken an opponent far stronger than themselves. When that was done, they would concentrate their energy for a fatal blow.

The theory wasn't just applicable when hunting... It seemed useful in warfare too.

General McClennan suddenly grew curious about that indigenous hunter.

Just then, a faint red glow appeared in the distance, through the large windows in front of him.

Catching the anomaly from the corner of his eye, General McClennan squinted slightly.

However, by the time he looked carefully, all he saw was the pitch-black sky. There was nothing to be seen.

"Did you see that light?"

Hearing General McClennan, the adjutant next to him paused slightly while revealing a look of confusion.

"Light...?"
NovelFire

Glancing at his adjutant's puzzled expression, General McClennan withdrew his gaze. "... Never mind."

Perhaps it was just an illusion.

However, he didn't know why but he couldn't shake the bad premonition that was creeping up his heart. It was as if something sinister was brewing somewhere out of his sight.