Will the kemonomimi encounter Alien Ranch Story?

He remained a warrior of Ursus, still loving the country more deeply than anyone else, but the Ursus he desired was not the current empire belonging to nobles and emperors.

Therefore, the emblem representing the nation remains on shields and weapons, and it is precisely this that makes every Ursus who fights against the Patriots' shield bearers understand one thing.

They were never fighting a mob of thugs and rioters, but rather the other half of Ursus.

Their enemies are the soldiers who remain loyal to the country and to all its people.

Therefore, they possess courage equal to their own, or even stronger will and fighting prowess. They are led by one of the most powerful warriors in the country's legends, a fact that alone is enough to send shivers down the spines of many low-ranking Ursus officers who have practically grown up listening to the legends of Borokkast.

The infected finally appeared in front of the fortress. They had entered the firing range of the fortress's amplification cannons and had not made any preparations for defense. Except for the trucks and armed vehicles equipped with vehicle-mounted thermobaric cannons, everyone was now in the sight of the defenders.

At the forefront stood the dark, imposing shield guards, with the colorful infected resistance soldiers spreading out around them like a pair of magnificent, vibrant wings. The various flags roared fiercely in the cold wind. There was no extra sound, only an invisible pressure descending upon everyone.

Open fire—it would certainly be a simple choice. They were foolish to appear in front of the defensive line in such a neat formation. Using artillery to inflict massive damage in an instant would undoubtedly be the best tactical option at the moment, but they dared not.

There are too many infected. If the Shield Guards choose to sacrifice the infected as cannon fodder to bait out the limited number of times the Amplification Cannon can be used, then the subsequent Molten Tank assault can break through the fortress's defenses in an instant. They will then have to fight the most legendary army of Ursus in the narrow fortress—those who tried this tactic before have all been killed.

If the Shieldbearer chooses to sacrifice himself, then no one has the confidence that they can really blow up this legend here. Few people are sure whether the demons on the frozen desert can do it or whether the artillery of Ursus can.

Even if they succeed, so what? As long as even one Shield Guard survives, so many infected will not retreat an inch, and their revenge will be so cruel that even the Ursus people, who are used to bloodshed, will be terrified.

The soldiers of the noble army, who were lured in with money and whips, had no intention of dying for their lords, especially not in this way.

Even if the infected broke through the city, only the master and the officers who usually bullied him were hanged.

Not only the soldiers thought this way, but the officers did too. Before Patriot's halberd, how many proud Ursus troops had been crushed, how many self-proclaimed strongholds and outposts had been destroyed. It was too difficult to expect them to raise their morale.

The silence of the fortress boosted the morale of the infected, and the momentum of this silently advancing legion continued to build. A moment's hesitation led to a greater loss of initiative, and the morale of the defenders inside the fortress collapsed and declined at a visible speed.

Even if they were to unleash all their weapons and kill half the people here on the spot, the remaining half would tear the fortress apart with their fingernails and teeth, drag everyone out, and hang them in the snowy forest outside, leaving no one alive.

"Advance!" The halberd pointed towards the fortress, and the black tide began to dissipate. The shield guards lifted their feet and charged towards the fortress. Their power armor greatly improved their mobility, allowing them to keep pace with the armed vehicles charging at full speed.

The attack wave spearheaded by Patriots resembled a hawk swooping down with its claws and wings outstretched. This wasn't the tactic of modern warfare; it was closer to the methods of the ancient era of cold weapons. Of course, Terra's unique equipment and military system meant this wasn't entirely unexpected.

Finally, having briefly regained his senses from fear, the noble officer, realizing that he would either be hanged for resisting or hanged for not resisting, brandished his whip and used large sums of money and the gallows to incite his men to launch a counterattack.

The fortress finally came into operation, and crossbow bolts and spell bullets rained down on the shield guards' shields. The shields, padded with a thin layer of interstellar alloy, remained almost unmoved. Even the most powerful Originium Arts unleashed by the warlocks could only leave a faint scratch.

Lacking machine guns and anti-infantry shotguns, the fortress appeared extremely clumsy and weak when facing infantry that had already passed nearly half of the firing range and were advancing at full speed like armored vehicles.

The warlocks operating the mortars and spellcasting devices didn't even know whether to aim at the massive horde of infected, the shield bearers, or the speeding vehicles.

Once within range of rapid-fire and direct-fire weapons, the shield guards quickly dispersed in groups of three to five, while the infected were a step slower.

However, after their comrades were mowed down like grass, the remaining people also basically disbanded into small teams along with the shield guards.

200 meters from the fortress, this is the area with the strongest firepower in the fortress, a true hail of bullets.

If we rely solely on the infected to storm the fortress, then even if everyone dies here, we won't be able to pose any threat to the mobile fortress.

"Thermal Cannon!" "Boom!" A vehicle equipped with a thermal cannon was blown over by the magical flames before it had even come to a complete stop, but another vehicle also entered the firing range.

"Boom!" The shield guard wearing power armor was reduced to a burning humanoid wreckage, and the vehicle behind him was completely overturned by the shockwave.

However, the heavy firepower team carrying the thermobaric cannons, under the cover of their teammates, successfully set up an attack using the wreckage and the shields of the shield guards. "Sizzle!"

A beam of almost plasma-like flame cleaved through the fortress's armor like a sharp blade, cutting across the entire arc-shaped gun turret that protruded from the main body.

"Keep going, advance!" Encouraged, the infected gritted their teeth and followed. Some picked up their shields from the still-burning wreckage of the shield guards, ignoring their charred hands, and held the shields in front of the heavy weapons team.

Some braved the flames to rush into the vehicles, remove the molten metal cannons, and, ignoring the flames still burning on their bodies, raise the cannons, aim them at the fortress, and pull the trigger until the severely overloaded weapon and they themselves disappeared in the explosion.

"Bang!" "Bang!" The guards inside the fortress looked at each other in dismay as the gates and bulkheads continued to emit terrifying, heavy impact sounds.

Finally, a halberd, gleaming with a crimson light as if it were burning, pierced through the armor and forcibly tore open a gap.

The dark figure blocked out the light from the outside, leaving only a pair of scarlet eyes staring silently at them.

"Bang!" The boots made a terrifying sound as they stepped on the metal floor. More figures appeared behind him, including shield guards and infected people who had temporarily become shield guards. They carried shields taken from the corpses of their predecessors and followed closely behind the survivors with broken halberds.

War is not only a clash of strength, tactics and weapons, but also a clash of wills. The Ursus noble army was almost completely defeated, except for a slight advantage in weaponry.

Fear caused them to miss the best opportunity to strike the enemy, and their wavering and hesitation prevented them from implementing their tactics. When the enemy finally came to them, their will completely collapsed, and all they could do was abandon their superior and complete equipment, discard their precious magical devices and heavy crossbows, and flee in terror.

The infected, pouring in through the numerous breaches torn open by the Shield Guards, the Melt Cannons, and the Patriots, picked up the weapons discarded by the noble soldiers without hesitation and mercilessly slashed at their backs.

"What a disgrace," Patriot stood in the middle of the deck, the crowd surging out from behind him like a torrent, enveloping the last remaining noble officers and their guards in the fortress control tower like wings, and steadily reducing their numbers.

Victory was within reach, yet the Patriots felt no joy whatsoever. Had Ursus's proud army and warriors lost even the most basic courage to resist?

Have they not only lost the nobility, glory, and compassion of feudal aristocrats compared to slave owners, but now they have even lost the last vestige of dignity of the aristocracy—the courage to use force?

Despite holding a fortified city, having ample troops, sufficient supplies, and superior weaponry, they ultimately failed to mount any significant resistance.

Before they could break through, the defending troops could still inflict heavy casualties on their own forces with various weapons.

Once inside, they seemed to have only one thought and one action left—to escape!

They kept running away, and no one was willing to fight back for the whips of the nobles and officers, except for the guards whose families were held hostage on noble lands.

They continued to resist because if these nobles died, their families would be sent to the mines or hanged if they lived, so they had no choice but to keep fighting.

"It's truly a disgrace, an ugliness," Patriot repeated once more. He felt firsthand how the entire aristocratic class of this country, and even the army that he had always been proud of and believed, even if it was decadent, at least wouldn't rot, had become so rotten.

This is not a victory in war, Patriot sighed. It is merely an incomplete cleanup, and a cleanup means that rot and filth still exist and continue to spread, which is nothing to be happy about.

"Halt!" Patriot raised his heavy halberd, and the infected, who were constantly trying to break into the control tower but were being repelled by the guards, stopped in their tracks, looking at their flag in confusion.

The nobles in the tower breathed a slight sigh of relief. Bojokasti was, after all, a warrior of Ursus; he should still have some respect for them. Perhaps...

Before the nobles could fully exhale, a deep, hoarse, yet remarkably clear voice rang out, "There's no need to waste your lives and time on these people. Bring up the molten metal cannons, at maximum power!"

“This is not a victory, not a battle, this is… a trial, and…” Patriot looked at the nobles on the tower, “… an execution!”

The infected cheerfully helped the shield guards carry up the heavy thermoelectric cannon. The thermoelectric cannon, with its external liquid cooling module, was the same size as the thermoelectric gun, but it was less prone to overheating, allowing it to fire at a higher power for a longer period of time.

"Hold it down!" The infected, disregarding the risk of burns to their thinly clothed bodies, pressed down hard on the molten cannon to prevent it from flying off due to the recoil of the gushing flames. Countless hands pressed onto the fuel tank, shoving it into the cannon, and then pulled the trigger!

The blazing demonic sword tore through the armor, severed the pillars, and ripped apart the synthetic jade lines and Originium cables. Multiple intersecting thermal cannons fired at their own incineration power. The infected, who were suppressing them, seemed completely oblivious to the sizzling smell emanating from their bodies. All they could see were the terrified faces of the nobles, and all they could hear were their screams.

Finally, the entire control panel collapsed with a crash. On the ruins, a shield guard took the flag handed to him by an infected person and forcefully stabbed it into the top of the ruins. The flag was not a variety of colors and patterns, but rather the Ursus double-headed eagle flag, except that the sword on the back had been replaced by a shield.

Chapter 84 The Flames of War Gradually Subside

Chapter 84

The infected were unable to capture this small mobile fortress, and the control tower was also destroyed.

Unless it's moved to an industrial city for major repairs, it's probably not going to become a fortress for the infected.

The next order was to take as much as possible, destroy the fortress beyond repair, and ensure that the supplies inside would allow the infected to get through a difficult but at least non-fatal early spring.

The Shield Guards who had followed Xia Lin in dismantling the Windrunner's cargo warehouse had already gained some basic experience in dismantling these things. Unlike the novice Infected who focused on destroying the seemingly sophisticated but actually easy-to-repair control consoles and panels, they focused on destroying cables and pipes.

If you can cut the cable and take it with you, then take it. If you can't take it, just make random cuts here and there, making them uneven and random. I guarantee that even if you bring the master of connections, Kroos, here, she'll burst into tears on the spot.

"Snap!" Ivan deftly cut off the ends of a bunch of cables that had been pulled out, along with the markings. As for which cable corresponded to which connector, that was left to the engineers in Ursus to figure out.

Besides the cables, the turrets and Originium devices must be dismantled and destroyed. Without these weapons, this mobile fortress is just a piece of scrap metal lying across the road.

Unable to monitor roads or prevent the movement of rebels, and due to its massive size and loss of mobility, it was difficult to move and instead hindered its own armored formations.

"The Ursus reinforcements are coming soon, retreat!" The Shield Guards chased away all the infected who were still searching each cabin for any cigarettes, canned food, and uniforms they had left behind, and then placed metal blocks all over the fortress.

Timers, sensors, and even simple tripwires were attached to one metal box after another. These were makeshift landmines made from thin-sheet iron lunchboxes produced by Xia Lin and crude explosives, ensuring that the Ursus reinforcements would receive an unexpected surprise upon entering.

After digging up the mangled corpses of the nobles and hanging them on the fortress gate, the Shield Guards quickly withdrew from the area as a rearguard. They would likely not launch any new military operations for the next six months or so.

Patriots understand the principle of "eat what you can't have," but he never had a stable base before. He was only good at fighting, and he knew nothing about production.

Therefore, they had no choice but to sustain the war by constantly attacking mines to obtain supplies and new recruits.

Now that there is a stable rear, the absorption of infected people can be gradually expanded. There is no need to test unprepared recruits with the brutal flames of war. In addition, the wounded in the team also need treatment and recuperation.

The infected and the shield guards, carrying large and small bags, hadn't gone far when the armored convoy of reinforcements appeared on the horizon. Faced with the fortress that had clearly been breached and the infected who were retreating victoriously, these noble reinforcements tacitly watched them leave instead of rushing to chase them down.

To be honest, if they were to catch up now, the infected would have to pay a heavy price. The previous battles had exhausted their energy and strength, and they were only able to keep going by sheer willpower.

If they were to be attacked at this crucial moment when they were packing up to go home, it would be difficult for them to muster the strength to fight again. The first burst of energy is followed by a decline, and the third is exhausted. However, the noble reinforcements also had their own ideas. Going after the infected now would undoubtedly be a thankless task. Whoever was the first to rush into the fortress would have the greatest military merit—claiming the credit for the recapture of lost territory.

To the noble officers, the infected were like rats in the field; once one batch was killed, another would emerge. The chance to storm a mobile fortress, seize it, and claim credit for its recapture was rare.

Especially considering the scene where they were beaten so badly by the elusive Patriots that their heads were dented, this achievement would surely satisfy their superiors.

"A bunch of useless trash," Ivan glanced at the noble reinforcements rushing into the fortress. Originally, the shield guards were the last to arrive because they were afraid that the Ursus military would come and give them a good chase, which would kill at least half of these infected rebels on this ice plain. But they didn't expect that they would not even look this way, but instead fight over who gets to enter the city first.

"Beep!" Ivan pressed the remote control in his hand. As for the unreliability issue that Boss Xia mentioned, he didn't care. Anyway, it was just a surprise gift box. If it exploded, it would be a surprise; if it didn't, it didn't matter.

Anyway, it won't kill many people; it will only leave them with a relatively deep impression.

"Stop laying the landmines, save some. Those rubbish aren't worth wasting." Ivan ordered the sappers who were laying landmines on the road through which the armored convoy could pass to stop. These landmines were hard-earned, and those rubbish wouldn't come after them. Laying them now would be a pure waste.

"However, this fortress can't be towed away or repaired, which means this road is now safe..."

Even if Ursus redeploys troops and repairs the turrets, it won't make a difference. The biggest feature of the mobile fortress is that it can move and patrol along roads, just like an armored train, making the guerrillas' heads look three times bigger.

Now that it's become a wrecked structure blocking half the road, preventing Ursus's heavy armored units from passing through or coming here, it means that the infected on this road can travel back and forth happily, as long as they're not stupid enough to go near the abandoned fortress.

However, this was only a small mobile fortress, not one of the large mobile fortresses deployed by Ursus. At most, it could only be considered a regional victory, which severely dampened the morale of the Ursus military and, to some extent, delayed their sweeping operations.

“Something’s not right, something’s not right—” The general of the Fourth Army looked at the photos and reports handed over by his men and felt like he was living in a nightmare. At first, they thought that they could use their elite regular army to attack a group of rebels and their mobs, who might have some military equipment.

For example, military crossbows, magic staffs, and even one or two old-fashioned assault ships were all within the General Staff's expectations.

After all, there were also rebels like the Shield Guards inside, who fought against the demons in the icy desert.

If there were any secret armories, it would be normal for some equipment to have been preserved. However, most of the infected should be exiled civilians or escaped slaves from the mines. Even if we include retired veterans who were infected for some reason, their equipment and supplies should not be too plentiful.

As a result, the photos showed the burning wreckage of a vehicle, the size and design of which were different from any civilian or military vehicle in Ursus.

Most importantly, some of the destroyed wreckage showed that some of them were newly built.

Not to mention the melting marks on the fortress, the staff and scholars had similar opinions: either the enemy had a well-organized war mage corps capable of casting strategic spells, or the enemy had the technology and physical objects of Originium beam cannons similar to those of the Great Yan, and had miniaturized them and equipped them on vehicle units.

Neither of these scenarios should appear in pre-war predictions of a mob of infected individuals; it feels like you're going to suppress bandits.

And at the beginning, it was indeed a crushing victory against the bandits; all you encountered were mobs wielding pitchforks and kitchen knives.

But as the fighting goes on, you realize that the enemy has picked up mass-produced standard rifles, and you have a strong feeling that if this back-and-forth continues, sooner or later the enemy will pull out a mechanized combined arms regiment with tanks, artillery, and attack helicopters.

"This must be the work of those Yan people and Victorians! I knew it, those guys can't be trusted."

One person feigned an appeal for calm, another feigned concern, and what was the result? What were those vehicles and steam armor that the infected had that appeared to be manufactured in Victoria? And what were those things that looked like Great Flame Cannons in their hands?

They can't just pick up trash on the desert and then fix it with a small hammer when they get back, can they?