From cannon fodder to sweeping across thousands of stars.

Chapter 779 The Dragon Slayer Will Become a Dragon

"Federal President Brandon and Defense Minister Miller have been confirmed dead."

In a command cabin vehicle that the Atlas Group drove out of the temporary ground camp, Norton II stared at the briefing that the Renaissance Alliance had just synchronized. His fingers tapped the wall panel inside the vehicle inadvertently, and a hint of surprise appeared on his face.

Amber noticed the change in the consultant's expression and glanced up.

"You look surprised?" Amber put a data tablet aside. "The president of the Federation fell under the gun of the attackers. Does this surprise you?"

Norton II retracted his gaze and shook his head slightly: "No, I just didn't expect it to be so fast and so simple."

"Oh? What are you expecting?"

The corners of Amber's mouth rose slightly, and her expression became somewhat interesting.

"Like those old-fashioned movies and TV series, where the president trapped in an underground bunker suddenly turns into an invincible soldier, fights his way out, and then escapes to a safe planet on a secret spaceship at the last minute?"

Norton II waved his hand: "Of course I don't think so, but it seems a bit too hasty for the ruler of the Federation who has fought the Empire for so long to die like this."

Amber chuckled and looked through the observation window of the shelter vehicle at the burning city in the distance.

"From the day that chaos broke out across the federation and the federal government was unable to completely suppress it, Brandon's life began to count down."

Amber's voice was calm, like a narrator or observer.

"The emergence of the Renaissance Alliance is just more like a catalyst, speeding up this inevitable process. The series of changes in the Federation during this period have already explained what it means that water can carry a boat but can also overturn it. Even if there is no Renaissance Alliance, organizations like the 'Freedom Alliance' and the 'Liberation Alliance' will naturally emerge to end it all."

Norton II nodded thoughtfully, his fingers gently stroking the armrest of the seat, his eyes flashing with thought.

"So, Boss, what do you think will happen to the Federation after the Renaissance Alliance takes over?" He looked directly into Amber's eyes. "Will it get better, or worse?"

Amber did not answer immediately, but asked: "Mr. Consultant, have you ever heard of the saying 'He who slays a dragon becomes a dragon'?"

"Of course I have heard of it." Norton II nodded, and then suddenly understood something. "Boss, do you mean that you are not optimistic about the Renaissance Alliance? Do you think they will gradually degenerate after taking control of power?"

Amber shook her head, her eyes sharp. "The Renaissance Alliance doesn't need to wait until it takes control of the Federation. It has already deteriorated. Haven't you realized this through your experiences these days?"

"If that's the case."

Norton II suddenly laughed: "The speed of deterioration is indeed faster than I expected. It took the Empire and the Federation decades and hundreds of years to get to where they are today. But this Renaissance Alliance has gone from idealism to realism in just a few dozen months~"

Amber did not comment on Norton II's words. He clicked a few times on the console on the shelter vehicle, called up the latest battlefield intelligence, and then continued:
"Look at these ground battle reports. The troops of the Renaissance Alliance have begun competing with each other for spoils and merits. One group has seized the armory of the Capital Garrison, another has taken over the Central Bank vault, and another is taking over the Federal Central Intelligence Agency."

"It's not even over yet, but they've already started dividing the pie? This is really a bit too hasty."

Norton II commented, then suddenly looked up at Amber.

"So, Boss, what role are we going to play in this game?"

When Amber heard Norton II's question, she did not answer directly, but just called up another report.

"The first troop that set out cooperated with the airdropped support units and has taken over several prisoner-of-war camps and set up some refugee concentration points to begin assisting local residents."

"Humanitarianism." Norton II repeated the word meaningfully, "Only Boss, you can do these things seriously and at the same time, openly and honestly trick your opponent~"

Amber shook her head: "You said it yourself, 'open and aboveboard', how can it be considered 'shady'? An open conspiracy. This is an open conspiracy~"
-
At this time, throughout the city, the battle was rapidly coming to an end due to the death of President Brandon.

For those federal soldiers who were still resisting, the death of the president and the secretary of defense was like a heavy hammer that completely shattered their last hope.

When they learned that the remaining federal officials were all captured, the fighting spirit of most people almost collapsed. The Renaissance Alliance cleverly took advantage of this and brought along the newly captured federal officials, asking them to persuade the remaining defenders to surrender through the battlefield broadcasting system.

"Federal soldiers, I am Federal Minister of the Interior Williams. You have done enough. Continuing resistance will only result in more casualties. Please lay down your weapons and surrender."

The trembling voices of the Secretary of the Interior and other federal government officials echoed among the ruins. Their tones were clearly coerced, but in this context they were all the more convincing.

Under their persuasion, one after another, the garrison troops hiding in the ruins of the heavy industry finally laid down their weapons and walked out of the bunkers with their hands raised high.

Sergeant Jackson was one of them. After surrendering to nearby revived Confederate soldiers, he was gathered with other surrendered Union soldiers in an open area on the east side of Placid Square.

From conversations with the Restoration Alliance soldiers around him, he learned that they would be transferred to a makeshift prisoner-of-war camp outside the city.

"Throw all your equipment over there!" A Renaissance Alliance soldier with blood and dirt on his combat exoskeleton ordered in a gruff voice, with the electromagnetic rifle in his hand pointed directly at them in the form of a 'golden finger'.

"Hurry up! Don't waste your time! My patience has its limits!"

Sergeant Jackson and the surrounding federal soldiers obediently took off their tactical visors, snapped on the quick-release device of the combat exoskeleton, disconnected the weapon system, and put them into the designated area one by one.

When they finished all this, the Renaissance Alliance soldier suddenly grinned:
"Now, take off your clothes too! All of them!"

There were a few low laughs around him, and Jackson suddenly raised his head and looked at the other person in disbelief.

But instead of stopping him, several other Renaissance Alliance soldiers nearby raised their weapons and repeated the order.

"You are humiliating us!"

An older Union officer protested loudly, only to be hit hard by the butt of his rifle, which made him stagger back.

"Who knows if there are bombs hidden in your combat uniforms? What if there are a few crazy people who want to carry out suicide attacks among the prisoners of war?"

The Renaissance Alliance soldiers raised their guns higher, and the leading soldier said, "Okay, I'll be magnanimous and allow you to keep your underwear, but you must take off all your combat uniforms!"

Under the threat of these soldiers, the captured federal soldiers had no choice but to take off their combat uniforms in humiliation, and then were driven together to shiver in the autumn wind.

Originally, Sergeant Jackson had planned to endure it all and survive first, but what he saw next made him completely angry.
Not far from their prisoner queue, they saw several seriously injured federal prisoners of war being roughly piled together, with no one providing them with any medical assistance.

A young soldier who was shot in the abdomen kept groaning, and blood soaked his combat uniform, but the soldiers of the Renaissance Alliance just dragged him here indifferently like a corpse, as if he was already dead.

"They are still alive!" Jackson couldn't help but shouted, "According to the Trales Convention, you are obliged to rescue prisoners of war!"

"The Trales Convention?"

A Renaissance Alliance soldier approached with a sneer, and the distorted sound under the tactical visor sounded a little hideous.

"Why didn't you federal dogs think of the Trales Convention when you were arresting our people and concentrating on 'dealing with' the prisoners of war and civilians who were dragging down the team?" He swung the butt of his rifle violently and hit Jackson hard in the ribs.

The severe pain made Jackson bend over, but he gritted his teeth and did not fall down. Instead, he forced himself to raise his head and look directly at the other person.

"Not all Union soldiers are like that," he gasped back, "We never mistreat any prisoners of war!"

"Shut up!"

The Renaissance Alliance soldier put the muzzle of his gun directly to his forehead and said with gritted teeth:

"Say one more word and I'll make your brains spurt out!"

Jackson felt the cold muzzle of the gun pressed against the skin of his forehead, but the fear had been replaced by anger and the dignity of a Federal soldier.

He slowly stood up. Although his ribs were in unbearable pain and even breathing made him shiver, he still straightened his back and looked directly into the other person's eyes.

"If you want to kill me, just shoot me."

Sergeant Jackson's voice was low and firm. "But this won't change anything."

After saying this, Sergeant Jackson felt an unprecedented calm. The fear of death had dissipated the moment he led his troops out of the underground shelter.

At this moment, in his eyes, the Renaissance Alliance soldiers on the opposite side seemed even more nervous and uneasy.

At the same time, the surrounding federal soldiers were inspired by him and stood up one after another.

They said nothing, but just stood there silently to express their protest with silence. This silent resistance was more powerful than any roar.

Seeing this scene, the soldiers of the Renaissance Alliance became visibly nervous, and the others who were originally resting nearby also hurried over, pointing their weapons at the group of standing prisoners.

Among them, Jackson saw a fanatical gleam in the eyes of some people - they seemed to be eager for the prisoners to make more radical moves so as to have a reason to open fire.

The air was filled with a burning smell that was about to explode, as if a single spark could set off the entire powder keg.

Sergeant Jackson and the federal soldiers around him knew that a massacre might begin in the next second, but they still stood with their backs straight.

At this tense moment, the roar of mechanized troops marching came from the street in the distance, and everyone's attention was immediately drawn to it, including the soldiers of the Renaissance Alliance who were still pointing their weapons at the prisoners of war.

I saw a troop painted in white approaching this side quickly, and the logo sprayed on their vehicles and equipment also proved their identity - this was the ground combat force of the Atlas Group.

The leading heavy armored infantry fighting vehicle slowly stopped, and the top hatch opened. Then a ram-headed Roma man leaned out his upper body. He looked around the situation with a serious expression.

"I am Om, the commander of the 12th Medical and Chemical Defense Battalion of the Atlas Group's ground combat force!" He spoke the universal language of mankind through a loudspeaker, and his voice was clearly heard throughout the entire area. "Everyone, please remain calm! Do not cause bloody conflicts!"

His eyes fell on the Renaissance Alliance soldiers: "According to the agreement we reached with the Renaissance Alliance, these prisoners of war are now under the control of the Atlas Group. You can focus your energy elsewhere, and we will take care of the affairs here."

The appearance of the Atlas Group's combat forces immediately eased the atmosphere here slightly - but the method was to bring the "fire" to themselves.

An officer of the Renaissance Alliance quickly stepped forward after hearing what Orm said, with obvious displeasure on his face: "Atlas? These people are our prisoners of war! I haven't received any orders for handover!"

"That's because this order was issued to us directly from your flagship before the battle began." Om raised his wrist and projected a document. "Here is the authorization letter, signed by the commander-in-chief of the Renaissance Alliance Fleet and the commander-in-chief of the ground forces. If you have any questions, you can contact your superiors."

The officer stared at the document with a changing expression. As an officer of the Renaissance Alliance, he was naturally well aware of the relationship between the Alliance and the Atlas Group. He also knew that the Atlas Group's ground combat forces had always been responsible for doing "dirty work" such as cleaning battlefields and sheltering prisoners of war and refugees.

But at this critical moment, the other party's behavior is just like coming here to rescue these federal prisoners of war.
The officer was still struggling until a confirmation order from his superior suddenly came over the combat channel. His face darkened and he spat fiercely.

"Okay, then we'll do as you say." He turned to his men, "Retreat! Leave this mess to them, and we'll take over the Central Communications Center!"

As he turned to leave, Jackson noticed a flash of malice in his eyes. He suddenly turned around and kicked a seriously injured federal soldier: "They are dying anyway, I suggest you just leave them alone to avoid wasting medicine!"

Om narrowed his eyes and stared at the other party's departing back without saying a word. In fact, he had been waiting for the other party to make the first move, but it was obvious that these soldiers of the Renaissance Alliance did not seem to want to conflict with them.

After the Resurrection Alliance troops left, Orm jumped out of the armored vehicle and walked towards Jackson and the other prisoners of war.

"Everyone, as you just heard, we are from the Atlas Group's ground combat force, and now you are under our control."

Orm's voice was not as harsh as before, but it was filled with some practical concern:
"The wounded will receive prompt medical treatment and all will be treated humanely in accordance with the provisions of the Tel Aviv Convention"

The surrounding federal soldiers immediately breathed a sigh of relief after hearing these words, and some even squatted on the ground and covered their faces and cried.

As Om walked past Jackson, he couldn't help but ask him, even though the pain in his ribs made it difficult for him to speak.

"Hello, may I ask why the Atlas Group took over the prisoners of war?"

Om stopped, looked at the federal soldier and smiled: "Humanitarian aid, this is our usual practice. According to the Boss's instructions, we will accept all prisoners of war and refugees and provide basic medical care and food to ensure that you can survive in the coming days."

After saying that, he turned around and waved to the medical team that was getting off the car behind him: "Quickly classify the wounded! First see if the seriously injured can be stabilized!"

The medical team quickly took action, professionally and efficiently classifying and treating the wounded. Sergeant Jackson saw that the young soldier who was thrown into the "pile of corpses" and kicked was rushed to the medical armored vehicle.

When an Atlas medic came to check Jackson's injuries and treated his broken ribs, Jackson whispered, "Um, hello. I still don't understand why your boss did this?"

The medic handed him a pain-relieving spray and shrugged, "Who knows? It's hard to guess what the boss is thinking. We are just following orders, and treating prisoners of war and refugees properly is our basic principle. Maybe the boss doesn't want to see the places affected by the war turned into slaughterhouses."

Jackson nodded as if he understood, then used the pain-relieving spray on himself, and the severe pain in his body was immediately relieved a lot.

He looked around and saw that Atlas personnel were registering each prisoner in an orderly manner and providing them with water and simple food.

"Whatever the reason," he thought silently, "at least we are still alive."

"Hey! Jackson!"

A voice suddenly came from behind. Jackson turned around and saw Captain Marshall, who had asked him to surrender, was also carried on a stretcher. His face was pale but he was still conscious.

"It seems you obeyed my orders and survived."

Jackson nodded, "Yes, sir, we all survived."

(End of this chapter)