This Game Is Too Realistic

Spring Water Commander: Thank you! Thank you all for your support!

- The decisive battle will start within a week. I will assign the most suitable tasks according to each corps' equipment configuration and preferred combat environment... I hope you all can trust me, follow my commands in the upcoming war, I promise not to let you down!

Old White: Save the formalities, we're all good brothers of the New Alliance, you just tell us where we need to go, leave the rest to us! >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Sideline Slacking: Charge!!!

...

The next morning.

The tranquility of Boulder Town's outer city was disrupted by the crisp and energetic cries.

"New issue! New issue!"

"Stalemate on the frontline, the New Alliance launches a general mobilization, now recruiting mercenaries for the battle! There are generous rewards! It's a rare opportunity!"

The newsboy walked through the streets and alleys, shouting while delivering newspapers to stands, pubs, and grocery stores, or stuffing them into the mailboxes at customers' front doors.

At a pub that wasn't even open, a large crowd surrounded a freshly printed newspaper, chirping and discussing among each other. The atmosphere was quite lively.

"New Alliance recruiting mercenaries... 50 chips or 100 silver coins a day!"

"Damn... That's half a month's wages for me!"

A man with oil stains on his clothes gasped. Judging by his attire, he appeared to be a worker from a nearby machinery factory.

Hearing such generous rewards, many showed tempted expressions. A mercenary standing by couldn't help but ask, "Do those bumpkins in the northern suburbs have that much money?"

A colleague heard this and joined in the conversation. "I heard Boulder Town Bank lent them a lot, and those chips are all stored in our bank, so there's no need to worry about not being able to pay out."

After all, it's not painful to spend borrowed money. The New Alliance's payment is nearly double what Boulder Town pays to fight the Tide.

And 100 silver coins a day was just the base price given to a single mercenary. If a well-trained mercenary group were to sign up, they might pay even more.

Hearing the words of his fellow comrade, the mercenary was immediately tempted. He turned to the guy sitting at the entrance to the pub to ask, "How do I sign up?"

The guy sneezed impatiently and repeated, "Didn't it say in the newspaper? Just take the newspaper to the mercenary recruitment point in the south of Daybreak City... They'll give you clothes and a gun."

"Give me a copy!" Without any hesitation, the mercenary immediately took out his wallet, threw a chip into the guy's hand, picked up a newspaper from the stand, and stuffed it into his chest.

Many others did the same.

That day, more than 3,000 mercenaries with newspapers set off, heading in the direction of the northern suburbs.

Although bullets didn't have eyes, they might not be too much more dangerous than mutants. For blood-licking mercenaries, working for anyone was still work, of course, they would go to whoever offered a higher price.

Besides those who truly dared to face danger, the streets and alleys of Boulder Town also started discussing the situation on the frontline.

Various signs were indicating that the stalemate would soon end and a decisive battle was brewing 150 kilometers away in Lucky Valley Municipality...

And while the residents of Boulder Town were discussing the news, the office of Survivor's Daily was also bustling.

They were busy with organizing materials and layout. Editors almost wanted to bury their heads in piles of papers.

Well... There was an exception of one person, the president of the newspaper, Hal!

That person was the newspaper's president, Hal.

It was unlike a few days ago.

Sitting by the window, he had a cigarette in his mouth, a worried look on his face, and a pile of cigarette butts scattered beside his chair. His eyes were devoid of light.

Although the newspaper's sales were soaring, he couldn't be happy at all.

Just a few days ago, his older brother Kariman came to Boulder Town to visit him. At the same time, he brought news from Sunset Province.

The Falcon Kingdom, with the support of the Army, has sparked a full-scale war against the Desert Kings. The raging war had already reached the Lion Kingdom at Oasis No.9...

And that was last month's news.

With such a big issue at home, Hal felt a burning sensation in his heart. He wanted to send a reporter to the Sunset Province, but no one would dare to take on the job.

Entering the desert was risky enough, let alone when there was a war going on. No matter how high the salary was, one would have to be alive to spend it.

Just when he was at a loss about what to do, a savior appeared...

"I'm going to the front lines, the New Alliance should be advancing into the desert. Once I get to Oasis No.9, I'll check on your family's situation for you." Ample Time entered the newspaper office, not bothering with pleasantries. He stared at Hal sitting by the window and got straight to the point.

He had a backpack half his height on, with an LD-47 assault rifle hanging next to it. Even his equipment and luggage were ready.

Hal was momentarily stunned by his declaration. Only when the ashes of the cigarette fell on his pants did he stand up.

He quickly walked up to Ample Time, excitedly shaking his hand. "Thank you! Sorry, apart from thank you, I don't know what to say!"

Looking at Hal's grateful face, Ample Time joked, "Don't mention it, but being a war correspondent isn't easy. Remember to pay me double."

Hal grunned in excitement, "I'll pay you triple the rates! I'll give you my salary too!"

Ample Time coughed lightly. "That's not necessary..."

He was merely joking around.

After messing around with bionic prosthetics for so long and opening up the market in Boulder Town for the New Alliance, he really didn't lack that bit of money.

Just as Hal was about to say something, a surprised voice suddenly came from the side. "Wait, what do you mean? You're going to the front?!"

Ample Time followed the direction of the voice, only to see a pair of eyes widening in shock while staring at him. The owner had a head full of emerald-green hair.

Noticing Dori's expression, Hal coughed lightly, trying to speak up for Ample Time. "People long to know the truth, someone has to step up, go to places most people don't want to..."

"Stop with the pretense, you're just worried about your own family and too scared to go back yourself, so you're thinking of throwing the trouble onto someone else, right?" Dori stared at him while growling. "That's abusing your authority!"

The newspaper office fell silent. Even the sound of flipping papers quieted down.

Feeling the pairs of eyes around him, Hal, defended himself with an embarrassed expression.

"I'm just an ordinary person too... I admit what you said, I really don't dare to go back, and I don't have the ability, but I don't agree that I'm abusing my authority. The residents of Boulder Town are interested in what's happening in Sunset Province and they've been paying more and more attention to what's happening outside recently. I'm also considering this from the position of the newspaper."

Dori didn't listen to his excuses, but looked at Ample Time, her eyes boring holes into him. "Are you really going to the front?"

Ample Time nodded. "Yes."

Those beautiful eyes filled with obvious reluctance and worry.

She lowered her chin, her voice carrying a barely detectable plea. "Can you not go..."

Hearing this, Ample Time smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "If I don't go, this will be the frontlines next."

If the Army came, they wouldn't care who was from Dawn City, who was from Boulder Town, or who belonged to the New Alliance.

They would take everything they could, then burn what they couldn't. Everything would become theirs in the end and everyone would be their slaves.

It would turn out exactly as Falling Leaf Camp.

Feeling the warmth of his hand through her head, Dori's cheeks slightly heated up, but she didn't shy away.

She bit the inside of her lip lightly, ultimately not persuading him further. She started murmuring in a very soft voice that was barely a whimper. "I'm getting paid next month, I promised to treat you to a meal... You have to come back safe..."

Ample Time couldn't help but grin.

Well... Of course there wouldn't be any problems with him coming back. As long as the New Alliance didn't fall, he would return three days later no matter how many times he died.

However... He wasn't about to make those insensitive jokes.

Looking into her eyes, he replied in a voice as soft as hers, but with conviction. "I promise."

...

Whether they were Combat Profession players or Lifestyle Profession players, regardless of level or profession, everyone received the mobilization server announcement and responded to the call.

At the same time, in a farm north of Dawn City...

Makka Pakka jumped down from the smoking tractor, looking at the old farmer not far away carrying a hoe. He yelled in not quite standard Federation language. "Old man! Please look after the crops in the field these few days, I'm leaving the tractor keys here."

He didn't know the NPC's name.

But having farmed together for so long, they were familiar with each other. Including many farmers nearby, they learned how to drive a tractor from Beating Tiger.

Currently, Makka Pakka's farming level had reached LV6, only four levels from his dreams of owning a manor.

Money and everything else was trivial. The crops in the field couldn't be neglected.

The old farmer didn't know his name either, but was no stranger to the peculiar fellow.

Despite being a noble resident of the shelter, he worked alongside them to carry out rough tasks, and he even enjoyed it immensely.

Not only that, but he valued the crops in the field more than his life.

Previously, a Multi-Legged Beast strayed over from Elm District. Others would turn and run at the sight of that creature. He was the only one who roared and charged at it, swinging a hoe and fought the beast. He actually managed to drive the beast away.

It was hard to imagine what could make him leave the crops unattended for several days.

Looking at that young man, the old man couldn't help but shout, "Where are you going?"

Dusting off his ash-covered gear, Makka Pakka slung his backpack on his shoulder. Without turning back, he laughed, "To the front lines!"

Holding the hoe, the old man was stunned. However, his instincts soon took over and he asked, "Then, when will you be back?"

"Once we've won!"

Without waiting for the old man's reply, Makka Pakka hummed a tune and went to the farm's entrance, meeting up with Beating Tiger.

Glancing at his burlap bag and the magazine hanging on his backpack, Beating Tiger had his hands in his pocket as he teased, "Why bring so much stuff, we're flying. Won't we come back in a bit?"

He heard propeller planes couldn't last two seconds in front of the iron balloon.

Saying they'd be back in a bit was a bit of an exaggeration.

At the very least, they should take three days, right?

Makka Pakka laughed, "Someone's flying the plane. This time, we're driving something good!"

Curious, Beating Tiger asked, "What are we driving?"

Makka Pakka raised his chin before gesturing animatedly, "A tank!"

Beating Tiger was stunned to hear what he said. However, he soon came back to his senses and he gasped, "Damn, have you ever driven that thing?!"

And wait a minute.

Since when did our New Alliance have tanks?!

Makka Pakka didn't explain much. Instead, he giggled, "Of course not! But that's not important! I heard from the factory administrator of Factory 81 it's pretty much the same as a tractor!"

Beating Tiger couldn't help but roar with laughter, "That's a hell of a difference, okay?"

Makka Pakka patted his comrade's shoulders. "Don't worry, it's not as hard as you think... I'll go scam a strength type to be the loader later. You'll be in charge of driving. There's no need to think too much about it. Just put the pedals to the floor."