The Sword Saint was about to go crazy; this game was way too realistic. There was no role capable of healing players on the spot.
In less than a dozen seconds, the Model D used a power sword about 1.8 meters long to scale the concrete wall and reached the twelfth floor. Following a bio-radar scan, it immediately spotted the lone escaping Sword Saint in the hallway.
No ambushing comrades, no land mines or anything; definitely in a desperate flight.
Once confirmed safe, the Model D charged forward like a tank, crashing through the weaker composite partitions without hesitation.
With rumbling noises behind him, the Sword Saint wished he could sprout two more legs to run faster, but the heavy exoskeleton mobility was left to Arnold, who had been ditched and hidden in a corner.
Meanwhile, the player channel was a chaotic mess.
"Have we relocated the artillery? That damn Huang Ban armored vehicle is chasing us like dogs!"
"Why panic? Still setting up the cannon."
"Crap! Bullets shot by those jerks can curve—what’s the hack code for that?!"
"I saw a group of Huang Ban soldiers crawl into the sewer; they seem to be near you guys with the red barrels."
"Huh? Near us? We’re upstairs, what are they doing down in the sewers?"
The chaos and chatter were mostly useless, with an appalling lack of useful information, frustrating the pros who directly set up a private chat with the Sword Saint.
For crying out loud, we definitely need to establish a separate command post in the future.
Sword Saint: "Can you see me yet?"
Pro: "You’re both still inside the building; all I see is nothing! Try getting him over by the balcony."
The Sword Saint suddenly let out a scream; the Model D had rushed behind him, spooking him into lifting his machine gun and firing at the towering figure.
The light machine gun, feared in gang sieges, lost its shine; bullets, which could normally tear humans to shreds, merely scuffed the enemy’s bulletproof armor.
Model D looked down at the Sword Saint’s rag-tag bulky exoskeleton, fussily designed like European plate armor, and scoffed, "A bunch of cheap junk, yet so flashy."
The Sword Saint realized escape was impossible and smacked his chest retorting, "Talking about your mom, do you even know what this is? It’s my wife! What’s the deal with Huang Ban? Huang Ban, haven’t you seen SABER!"
Model D completely ignored his ramblings, silently gearing up to slay him and proceed to the next victim.
Then a sound from behind made him turn, swatting aside an incoming RPG. Unlike the player-worn exoskeletons, Model D could utilize Sianweistan.
The deflected RPG hit the wall with a boom, engulfing the entire hallway in smoke.
Emerging from the dust cloud on the opposite side of the hallway was Arnold, who had been unconscious for some time.
With sunglasses on, his face bleeding continuously, he gave the Sword Saint a thumbs up, "I’ll be back!"
Then quickly reload a rocket into the launcher tube from behind; Model D wasn’t giving him time, prepared to rush over and kill the guy.
But at such close range, the Sword Saint pounced, wrapping his arms around the opponent’s limbs tightly like a koala hugging the big guy.
"Pretty solid, darling, let me check if your growth is normal! Let me see... (deep voice)!"
What kind of lunatic is this?
Model D never expected this guy to be suicidal, apparently not caring whether the rocket would blow them both to smithereens.
The power armor’s robust fingers gripped the Sword Saint’s right hand armor, exerting slight pressure. The steel plates welded by the Sword Saint’s studio were twisted and deformed, even crushing his fingers, yet he wouldn’t let go.
Not even a pain editor could affect this fiercely, right?
With the Sword Saint clinging , even using Sianweistan was tough.
Sword Saint: "I won’t!"
The rocket precisely hit the Sword Saint used as a meat shield by Model D upon rotation.
The Sword Saint perished instantly, his corpse shattered beyond recognition, but the powerful blast hurled Model D away, smashing through several walls like a bowling ball and ejecting out of the building, plummeting toward the ground.
However, the damage to Model D’s body was still not considered fatal. Freed from the Sword Saint’s grip, the soldier immediately stabbed the power sword into the wall, aiming to halt his descending momentum; yet, he inadvertently entered the sniper players’ firing range.
Gunfire sounded like cannons rang out consecutively in the nearby building rooms, numerous large-caliber armor-piercing rounds shattered the concrete walls like tofu, with one round directly hitting Model D’s sword-wielding right arm, penetrating the entire mechanical limb.
Cheers erupted from the sniper squad, "Vehicle killer Li Sanguang: "NICE! I’m sure I fired that bullet!
Mongolian Toplaner: "Nonsense, I fired it!" ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel fire.net
Without killing, no one knows who hit the target until they get the kill shot.
The expert who knew his hit had no time for other discussions, "Keep firing, knock him out then relocate!"
The pro spoke, and everyone promptly added their output; anti-material armor-piercing rounds rained down on the falling Model D’s machine body like there was no charge.