Terra Tinkers Construct is fine.

The Rock Plate Helmet consists of two parts: the Rock Helmet Base and the Rock Helmet Plate. The former has a material value of 3, while the latter has a material value of 2, which means that it uses five cubic meters of cobblestone.

Even if we assume the weight of the cobblestone is at least two tons, and considering the losses during processing at the component manufacturing station, only 1/9 of it will remain in the finished product... that would still weigh 1,100 kilograms.

Milan's [Asymmetric Matter Drive] permission does indeed only cover the main-hand equipment, but he has a natural equipment permission for MC equipment. When this thing is on him, he doesn't feel heavy at all—not only that, but even the mass seems to be calculated separately in another world, so much so that he can jump around on soft ground while wearing heavy armor, but when running and being hit, his inertia is judged according to his actual weight.

It's very confusing.

But the direction of the mystery is always in his favor, just like a blatantly written clause stating "I have the final say."

Getting back to the point, it still comes down to this: kid, do you even know what you're asking for? You dare to try it?

"Just try it!"

Seeing that Milan didn't reply, the young ice chiselman quickly got to work, saying to the others, "Everyone heard that! Master Milan said I should try, so I'm giving it a shot...!"

He placed his large hands on either side of the helmet, somewhat mentally prepared, and then applied force...

"Hey……!?"

He reached out and strained, strained, and strained again—his face was now truly red from straining, and the dusty gray helmet was firmly in his hand…

He moved a few times, hovered slightly, and then, just as he could no longer hold his breath, he fell to the ground with a "plop."

The faces of the snow monsters sitting on the ground watching the commotion immediately changed: they could clearly feel the ground beneath them tremble.

—No, what exactly is this armor of yours...? Everyone says you're a heavy armor enthusiast, but how heavy is your armor?

For a moment, the yeti's expressions all seemed to convey this meaning.

"To put it simply, my entire outfit weighs about five tons."

Milan didn't stand on ceremony with them. He reached for the helmet as easily as scooping up a roast potato; the icebreaker, still a little dizzy from the effort, plopped down on the ground, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets at Milan's movements—and Milan picked up the helmet, weighed it in his hand, then slammed it over his head, saying in a deep voice:

"Do you understand now?"

"...I understand, I understand."

The Yetis nodded repeatedly.

I have some understanding of the concept of "heavy armor": Generally speaking, without considering special bloodlines and Oripathy, Terrans' physical abilities are more latent than overt, and it can be said that the degree of "training and development" can greatly improve Terrans' physical fitness.

If someone is of average bloodline and doesn't exercise regularly, their physical abilities might not be much better than those of humans on Earth.

However, if the training or combat is beyond the intensity of simply "strengthening the body", the functions hidden in the genes will be greatly expressed, allowing the physical fitness of Terrans to soar to a great extent in the corresponding aspects.

To put it simply: the Shield Guards were once the signature elite troops of Ursus. Their heavy armor, which was the most advanced in the Ursus army, weighed over 100 kilograms while ensuring strength and reducing weight as much as possible. Their heavy shields also weighed close to 100 kilograms. The Shield Guards were once the glory of the Ursus army on the battlefield. A line of Shield Guards advancing in formation was like an approaching mountain.

And among these military units are members of the Felin bloodline... Yes, it turns out that with a certain amount of talent and scientific training, even a cat can wear a 200-kilogram suit of heavy armor to apply for a job on the heavy armor track.

That's fucking awesome.

The Icebreaker is also a master of close combat among the Yetis, and his strength is among the best. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that such a guy can lift a hundred kilograms of weight with ease, let alone play with it.

This guy can't even lift a helmet... So even if Milan's gear isn't as exaggerated as he said, it's at least beyond their reach.

Watching Milan put his helmet on, sweat poured down their faces from under their cloaks: fighting a surprise attack hadn't been this exciting in all that time.

"Alright, enough with the nonsense, let's get down to business."

Milan coughed and said, "Since that's the case, due to the limitations, the only heavy armor unit we can use is me. Next, we need to adjust our tactical objectives."

"If we work backwards from our needs, our goal is to eliminate the entire enemy force. Our disadvantage is a shortage of manpower, while our advantage is stronger small-scale combat capabilities and expertise in special environments."

"After this wave, the camp will consolidate its defenses. We shouldn't need to worry about the defensive aspects. The remaining issue is the offensive..."

"You want to take the initiative?"

Froststar's voice was cold: "Without the support of the preset Originium Ice Crystals, the scale of frost outside the range will be greatly reduced."

Are you willing to hold out?

Milan said, "Let's take a gamble, just like we guessed?"

"How to fight?"

As the conversation progressed, Frostnova's attitude changed abruptly. Her tone was so decisive that it didn't sound like a Cataclysian at all, or rather, it sounded more like an Ursus than the others.

Milan thought for a moment and said, "Leave most of the people behind and rely on the Originium Ice Crystals to secure the camp. We have already wiped out a lot of their manpower. If they still have this many people, there is no reason not to bring them up to put pressure on them."

"The fact that they are temporarily withdrawing indicates that they are also hesitant."

"Then if we break through in small teams, we have the possibility of decapitating them or further disrupting them; I will be the spearhead, and you will provide support from the rear. I will be responsible for breaking them apart, and you will provide support."

"The main kill mission is yours, any objections?"

He spoke calmly, his tone not one of unquestionable authority, but one of unquestionable composure, just like his absolute confidence in craftsmanship. He was confident enough, but the Yeti's side was different—this plan could not be said to be disadvantageous to them; on the contrary, it could be said that the most dangerous tasks had fallen on Milan's shoulders.

The loyal Yetis all looked somewhat troubled, and Frostnova paused for a moment, her tone softening for once.

“You are already a friend of the Yeti, Mr. Craftsman. The Yeti has no habit of watching its friends put themselves in danger.”

"But this task can only be carried out by me, right?"

Milan laughed: "Don't worry, to be honest, I'm not good at fighting, and I actually trust my skills more than yours."

"And then again, even in the worst-case scenario... if our reasoning is correct, don't we still have a way out: take a gamble?"

He said it casually.

Looking into Milan's eyes, Frostnova's expression softened, and she nodded, making a final decision: "Okay, let's do it that way."

"Brothers and sisters I've called, follow up. Icebreakers, just protect the flanks. The team should mainly consist of crossbowmen and mages. Make sure we can provide the firepower we're responsible for."

"I'll go with you."

On the other side, where artificial snowstorms cannot reach, behind the makeshift shelters where the routed troops sought refuge from the wind.

"Trash! They're all trash!"

An Ursus officer with torn epaulets and fresh frostbite on his face kicked over an empty tin can, spilling peas and broth onto the frozen ground and rocky floor, but he paid no attention.

"You couldn't even break through the turtle shells of those infected scum head-on, and even your flanking team got crushed? Are you carrying buckets of dung on your necks?"

"How many people are we putting on the front to put pressure on the Yeti? A bunch of old, weak, sick, and disabled people, working like animals, can't you handle it?!"

The adjutant standing behind the rock... well, to call him an adjutant was really just another poorly dressed Ursus officer who didn't even seem to be part of the same organization. He wiped the ice crystals off his beard and said in a hoarse voice, "The Yeti is even more sinister than the intelligence reports. Our men who came back said that when they were charging behind their camp, a wall suddenly appeared, and there was a stone monster in the wall."

"They were impervious to swords and spears; their men didn't even urinate."

"A stone monster? Invulnerable to swords and spears?"

Another soldier, his body wrapped in bandages, scoffed, but his eyes, unlike his contemptuous tone, were bloodshot and filled with suppressed unease: "What, are you telling me it's the Shield Guards who caught up? Those heavily armored devils? Or is a Shield Guard part of the Yeti squad?"

He blurted out his words without thinking, and when he realized what he had said, it silenced everyone present.

It doesn't seem too far-fetched that a shieldbearer would join the Yeti squad...

Shield Guard.

They all knew how they had ended up in this predicament, what was following them—those black shadows that needed no banners, the nightmare of all Ursus soldiers on the snowfield; the infected guerrillas, the shield bearers, the monsters and traitors who followed the Patriots…

How come they're still alive?

How come they haven't all died out after all these years?

"The garrison at Mine 7794 is finished... Our company was just sent to provide support, and what happened?"

As if the word had triggered some memory, the sergeant nervously clutched the edge of his bandage, his voice trembling: "Those shield guards... they're not human, they're definitely not human! How could humans withstand such intense artillery fire?"

"Our ballistae hit their shields like it was a tickle! Did you see that? The ground shook when they charged!"

He suddenly clutched his head, his bloodshot eyes bulging.

"When we escaped, Major Andrei was still behind us. I heard his screams... Demons, it must be those demons! I knew the Sarkaz couldn't be trusted. Patriot, captain! Bah! Traitors! Traitors... Waaah..."

"The footsteps of those shield guards...did you hear them? Thump, thump, thump...they're still behind, they must still be behind!"

His neurotic voice echoed in the wind, and panic, like a cold, venomous snake, coiled around everyone's heart: to be fair, the sergeant's storytelling skills were not particularly good, but this group of people happened to be the firsthand witnesses to this story—this defeated army was pieced together from the remnants of the garrison at the black mine in the story and the troops that came to support them from the nearby outpost.

Of course, it was the remnants—the guerrillas—who broke through their defenses, and the shield guards who crushed their courage. They had long since lost their nerve under the unstoppable crushing force, and just thinking about it now makes their kidneys shudder.

"Therefore, we must take down the Yeti!"

The officer with frostbite suddenly drew his sword and spoke forcefully, as if emphasizing the significance of his order.

"We must take down the Yeti!"

Chapter 20 - The Rolling Stone (+0)

We must take down the Yeti!

The officer, as if to bolster his words, even drew his saber and brandished it forcefully, as if only by feeling the weight of the weapon in his hand could he muster the strength... or perhaps to inspire others to do so.

"Especially that white-haired, earred Katarina! That Frostnova! That brat that Borocaster and Shieldbear treat like treasures!"

"Only by capturing her can we have the leverage to stop those metal monsters behind us! This is our only way to survive!"

"Do you really want to be chased like dogs by the guerrillas across the snowfield until you freeze and starve to death when you can't run anymore?!"

He scanned his subordinates' faces, some numb, some terrified, and his voice suddenly rose, carrying a neurotic madness that seemed almost like he was using it to hypnotize himself: "Think carefully! What kind of people are the guerrillas, and what kind of people are you! Don't be silly, do you think you'll have a good end if you're captured by the guerrillas?"

"You? It's still you!"

The soldiers he was pointing at seemed to have finally been awakened to some courage. They raised their faces and met their commander's crazed expression.

“You are soldiers of Ursus! Pure blood flows in your veins! Not those scum who deserve to be thrown into mines and have stones growing on their bodies!”

"Grab that white rabbit, and trade her life for ours! Understand? This is an order!"

It seemed that something had temporarily overwhelmed the fear.

"We outnumber you... Yes, we outnumber you!"

"So what if they're Yetis? They're just a bunch of infected trash. How can they compare to the Shield Guards who were once part of the Imperial Order?"

"Think about the tin cans chasing after you! What will happen to them if they fall into their hands? And think about how those slag heaps rebelled! Are you willing to accept this?"

"Or do you want to become like them?"

The soldiers gripped their cold weapons, their eyes blazing with renewed fervor. A frantic will to survive, intertwined with a long-established malice and contempt, ignited a new kind of high morale.

"The infected deserve to die! The infected don't deserve to live! Kill all the Yetis, capture Frostnova, and we can survive!"

"To survive! For the empire!"

The malice and contempt instilled in the infected over a long period of propaganda overwhelmed their fear, and as if to embolden themselves, they joined the officers in howling like wild beasts.

"To survive! Kill all the infected!"

"Kill them all—"

Their rallying roar didn't even have time for a second round.

Their revelry was interrupted by another sharp, piercing sound.

"Enemy attack!!!"

From a distance, just enough to make out the flickering light of the enemy's campfire, Milan took a deep breath, stretched her shoulders, slightly bent her knees, and lowered her center of gravity.

"Get ready, I'm going in."

He gave his equipment one last check. His rock-encased body suddenly started moving, the heavy armor and thick shin guards striking the ground with a quietness that defied the laws of physics, yet without affecting the true mass of the armor, silently converting it into astonishing kinetic energy.

It was also at the same time that he started.

As planned, the Yeti sniper took down the sentry in the first round of fire, and Frostnova led the team to follow closely behind; the cries of alarm about the enemy attack rang out in the enemy camp only a few seconds later. As the one charging ahead, Milan was immediately the target of almost all the crossbow fire in the enemy camp!

He tilted his shield but didn't even try to block it; he simply charged straight at the arrows head-on!

"Ahhhhh!!!"

The guards blocking what could be considered the main entrance screamed in agony.

Under the cover of night, the flickering light of the flames illuminated Milan's silhouette with a somber, rocky texture. Each step was eerily silent, yet it seemed as if even the air itself was being violently pushed aside.

The twelve-ton warriors charged forward, and the strong Ursus soldiers swung their swords to cut them down, only to be smashed apart like ping-pong balls. Their blades sparked against the rocky armor, but they could not stop Milan's advance. He charged through the camp like a rugby player.

"What the hell is that!"

The soldiers at the front of the routed camp only had time to see a terrifying outline growing larger and larger. It wasn't moving very fast for them, but it was so ruthless that it was almost incomprehensible. Blades were useless, spears were useless, arrows were simply deflected, and anyone who tried to stop him was thrown away indiscriminately, as if all attempts to intercept him were futile.

"A monster...a monster! It's that stone monster!"

The officers at the front, who were trying to organize a defense, let out a shrill scream, and the officers who were still in a meeting at the back rushed out; seeing such a scene of chaos and turmoil in the blink of an eye, the mine foreman's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Who is it? How many people are coming?"

"There's only one... but he's not human! He's definitely not human!"