Over twenty chas belonging to different forces were continuously firing at each other, slowly approaching George’s position with the least intense combat tactics.
Listening to the noisy comntators in the broadcast room, George Augustus silently moved his fingers, shifting in a very awkward manner both forwards and backwards while reporting micro-adjustnts to three decimal places.
Although the adjustnts seed to be only a thousandth of a percent, for a huge machine over ten ters tall, every little feedback adjustnt could result in a significant error. It is said that even a few milliters difference in the spacing of stairs could cause soone to fall, and for the body of the machine, it’s even more crucial.
Three hundred ters, two hundred ters, one hundred ters...
Passing around the complex ruins that obscured the view, more than twenty chas had entered the direct capture range of the monitors, yet the posture of George’s seventh-generation machine still looked abnormal.
However, he didn’t run away but instead started running in an awkward posture.
Each step of the enormous machine caused the ground to tremble violently, and as he suddenly started moving, those chas belonging to different forces also deployed their weapons.
Although they felt this machine, which only had a test OS, posed no real threat, thinking of those unlucky ones who had been wiped out before, they unanimously decided to eliminate this unstable factor first.
Their thoughts were undoubtedly correct, but Mr. George certainly wasn’t going to exit the stage in such a ludicrous manner.
Although it lacked the stunning dance steps of the previous "Shield of George" and even its running posture looked sowhat ugly, the movents of this cha were still difficult to predict, and using only two fighting short blades, it blocked all the mass projectiles.
"This defies science! Those aren’t solid warheads! Why can the blades block them? Why didn’t they explode?"
Yelo watched in disbelief as the rocket projectiles were being split by two fighting short blades on the screen, much like cold weapons cutting bullets in classic animations, and yelled incredulously while Victor, beside him, seed numb and said:
"Who said they didn’t explode? They did explode, just the combat sections were cut off. You see this in gas too."
"Cutting combat sections? Isn’t that a ga-specific feature?" Yelo was more shocked by hearing this term than seeing the missiles not exploding.
Victor just spread his hands and explained:
"Definitely not! Let’s put it this way, explosives need a special ignition device to detonate, right? So, if you cut through the combat section of a rocket projectile before it’s activated, on one hand, it separates the ignitor from most of the explosive, reducing the yield, and on the other hand, it damages the seal, lowering the explosive power.
"Of course, gas specifically set up cutting lines, where a hit ans a perfect block. In reality, however, the location of the ignitors in the combat sections of each type of ammunition varies, and the activation thods differ too, making it very challenging. Nonetheless, the conclusion is that weapons more reliant on explosive power are especially vulnerable to this tactic. On the contrary, tungsten carbide armor-piercing rounds might still be effective, like breaking the blade’s edge or sothing."
"So, you’re telling that this cha that can’t even walk properly can perform such high-precision actions?" Yelo watched as the awkwardly postured machine blocked over a hundred twenty rocket projectiles, with only a slight charring from flas, seemingly less damaged than from rolling on the ground earlier.
"I suspect if he had used the ’Shield of George’ without armor, it probably wouldn’t even have been blackened. Look closely, there are still so rocket projectiles that weren’t perfectly cut open, it’s just that their explosive power was too low to damage the armor."
Victor seed to enter Wise Man Mode, explaining idly as Yelo wanted to retort, but no one was paying attention anymore because following this performance of cutting rockets, the seventh-generation machine piloted by George was now only about thirty ters away from the nearest chas.
If for humans this might still be considered mid-range combat, for chas it was undoubtedly close combat.
Because after closing this distance, the use of rocket projectiles, high explosive bombs, and other lethal weapons was locked to avoid being impacted by their own weapons.
However, chas from other forces were not inclined to this idea; they continued to deploy high-power weapons, attempting to take down both the enemy forces and the target together.
This approach, clearly lacking any unity, was undoubtedly giving George an advantage. His machine, though still sowhat awkward, was clearly having an easier ti than his opponents under the bombardnt of nurous missiles.
"Sun Umbrella Company’s chas are out first, oh, my God, George’s machine is moving more flexibly again. If the remaining companies continue this infighting, by the ti Mr. George adjusts the OS, well..."
Yelo didn’t continue, but everyone understood his point.
Given the combat power George was displaying now, once he adjusted the OS, those sixth-generation machines would be like chopping lons and vegetables.
The audience knew, the comntators knew, the drivers knew, and, of course, their bosses in the background also knew.
Almost at the sa instant, all the machines present received orders from the upper levels, and enemy and ally identification codes were exchanged among the chas. The remaining fifteen machines instantly adjusted their formation, and the originally tense and chaotic scenario suddenly beca coordinated and unified.
Under the command of so operator, the chas ford a clearly enveloping tactical formation, closing in on George.
"The reaction is faster than I expected! Geez, now’s the ti for a beautiful songstress to sing so BGM... never mind, I can’t afford a talent agency, I’ll sing myself."
George’s voice echoed in the broadcast room, and at the sa ti, he opened the intelligent terminal on his wrist and directly interfaced it with the cha. Soon after, a devilishly intense lody began to resonate in the air.
"Yo, look into my evil eyes!"
The song, translated into the local language of this world through the magic yam transcription, was aggressive and domineering. In a trance, people seed to see, behind the unnad cha, a pair of daunting eyes erging.
Under the loud song and lody, the cha’s movents continued to be twisted, with its greatly discomforting amplitude of leg alternation and shoulder shaking, yet it oddly carried a sense of magic.
And when the tune of the lyrics suddenly escalated, the twisted-postured cha suddenly burst forth with terrifying propulsion!
"Crack!"
With no ti to react, a cha’s head was instantly gone, and as the blinding twist stabilized, the seventh-generation machine, stepping in a T-step, was holding the skull of the cha next to it.
He pressed down forcefully!
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