This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 460.2: These Newbies Are Pretty Impressive!

That was a heavy machine gun firing at 600 rounds per minute! Not to mention the bastard manning it had his second awakening! He was a solid T0 to T1 expert!

In just a minute, until the last one fell fifty meters from their position, the entire 100-man team was wiped out.

And as the newbies collectively logged off, a wave of death review posts started popping up across the forum...

- Sigh, should’ve just kept digging that trench...

- Yeah... Leaving cover like that was dumb as hell.

- If we were gonna charge, we should’ve waited for the right moment. Honestly, their rifles weren’t that accurate, just that damn machine gunner...!

- Next time we need to rig up a dirt cannon or something! We need to at least take out that machine gun!

- Who the hell was it that shouted the charge?

- I think it was some dumb strength type player.

- Screw you! Who are you calling dumb?!

- Calling you out, you meathead!

- #%@&#@!

...

Unlike the sobbing noobs, Battlefield Cheerleader, or Pangolin, was having a blast.

The last batch that Eye Owe Money had sent barely even tried. But these newbies? Not only were they digging trenches and dodging bullets, they even put on a show.

It was truly touching.

To show his appreciation, he actually logged off for a moment and went to the forum to leave a few words of praise, but the moment he opened the page, he almost spat out his soda.

Good lord.

They were treating him like a server boss!

Somehow the whole newbie player base had gotten it into their heads that killing Pangolin would give them 1,000 silver.

Whoever started the rumor, it had spread like wildfire. The forum was lit with strategies, death recaps, and even suggestions to bring out a homemade Tsar Bomb. Cold sweat broke out in his palms.

Watching them discuss with such fervor, he felt his palms going cold.

He quickly switched over to the command group chat and called out the rest of the idiots.

Battlefield Cheerleader: What the hell is going on? Weren’t you guys just supposed to send me cannon fodder? Why’s there a bounty on my head now?!

Darkest: WTF, you finally show up? Dude, you were way too harsh earlier. I didn’t even finish my commands when you shot me!

Battlefield Cheerleader: Well... I saw you fire a shot and thought that meant I should accept the express delivery.

Escaping Mole: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Darkest: Fuck you!

Battlefield Cheerleader: Anyway, never mind you. Someone go rein in those newbies. They were supposed to die quietly, not screw up my whole setup.

Spring Water Commander: Why rein them in? I think it’s perfect. Didn’t you complain yesterday’s wave felt too fake? Now, this is god damn real! (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

Eye Owe Money: Exactly! I just figured it out too. Sending cannon fodder directly is just plain stupid.

Darkest: +1. And come on, you’re a level 20+ top-tier player. Are you afraid of a couple noobs flipping the script?

Battlefield Cheerleader nearly burst a vein.

Battlefield Cheerleader: DID YOU EVEN SEE WHAT THEY’RE SAYING NOW?! THEY’RE PLANNING TO BUILD A MASSIVE BOMB TO BLAST ME TO BITS!

Spring Water Commander: Relax, I’m not giving them anything strong. Just old rifles from the bottom of the warehouse. Worst case, just hide in the bunker and let the clones take the heat.

Battlefield Cheerleader: ...

Sideline Slacking: Actually getting excited now. Isn’t it our turn tomorrow? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Construction Boy: I’m leading that squad! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Seeing that damn emoji, Battlefield Cheerleader felt a chill in his nether regions.

He’d already been offline for over ten minutes.

Muttering curses, he slammed his laptop shut and put his helmet back on.

...

That same evening.

In the command tent of position G53, Cowley finally received the latest report from the frontlines.

The moment he read the report from sector G53-7, his jaw dropped. “... They’re out of ammo?! What the hell happened?!”

He had just been to that position the day before and specifically inspected the supply status. By all metrics, they had enough ammunition for a week.

And now, less than 48 hours later, they were out?

Were they fucking eating bullets like peanuts?!

The officer delivering the report kept a straight face. “In the last two days, the New Alliance has launched two small-scale raids.”

Cowley didn’t doubt Pangolin’s honesty, but he still asked, “Is this confirmed?”

The officer nodded. “I sent people to verify, there are bodies outside the trench. According to the battle log, we’ve eliminated over 250 enemies, seized 240 rifles, 1 handgun, and roughly 6,000 rounds.” He paused and added, “The recovered gear has been sent to our logistics department. Some of it needs repair, but it should be serviceable.”

Cowley didn’t hear the second half.

The moment he heard they had eliminated 250 enemies, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He shot to his feet.

God damn!

More than 250?!

That kind of kill count wouldn’t be believable even in an all-day shootout between two battalions.

His first thought wasn’t that Pangolin was a genius, it was that the New Alliance’s leadership had lost their minds.

But as he calmed down, he stared at the map and suddenly felt enlightened. “... Could they be purging dissenters through their charge?”

The officer hesitated, then nodded. “It’s possible.”

The New Alliance wasn’t a single entity. After General Griffin delivered his ultimatum, there had surely been a split between the hardliners and those who sought peace.

Cowley could even guess the arguments they were having.

The only problem was... Even if the New Alliance was experiencing infighting, they were outmatched. If they really had to fight, they wouldn’t be able to hold out for more than three days.

Which... Wasn’t untrue.

Even their invasion of the Sunset Province wasn’t the full effort of the Army. It was more of a proxy war.

The New Alliance had the assistance of the Enterprise, but the Enterprise had a lot on their hands. The war might just be a small blip in their bigger picture.

If a full scale war broke out, no one knew who would hold the advantage between the Army and the Enterprise, but there was no doubt in his mind that the New Alliance wouldn’t be able to hold out for a single proper exchange.

Of course, there were definitely also members of the New Alliance who wanted war and would push for it.

They might have believed the Army’s supply lines were crippled, and used that as proof they could win.

If he were in the peace loving gang, he would definitely throw out a challenge. “If you think we can win, take your loyalists and prove it.”

That would explain why the New Alliance was sending wave after wave into a meat grinder like G53-7.

Eyes narrowing while looking at the map on the table, Cowley let out a smirk. “They picked the wrong target. They ran into my best captain.”

He turned to his adjutant and ordered, “Split the ammo reserves from G53-5 and G53-6, send half to G53-7. We must maintain the illusion of readiness.”

The officer hesitated. “What if the next attack shifts to another sector?”

Cowley chuckled confidently. “If they’re probing us out, they won’t scatter their efforts. They’ll pick one spot to break through, and I’ll bet anything they’re coming back here in the next few days!”

Because no matter what, dead bodies wouldn’t lie.

If he could spend a bit of ammo to wipe out the New Alliance’s most zealous fighters, it was totally worth it.

And not just that, he could resupply off the corpses.

“Hold off sending the recovered gear for repair. Once I finish drafting this report, we’re sending it to our command center. Let them reroute more supplies our way!”

The officer’s eyes lit up.

That was genius!

Among a force of 100,000, there were bound to be low-priority defense zones. If they knew what was happening in sector G53-7, they would definitely divert more supplies.

He stood straight and saluted. “Yes, sir!”

...