Chapter 197: Kings of the Land
"Screeeech—"
Amid the startled cries of countless Farlay soldiers, the shrill wail of an air raid alarm tore through the skies above Osten camp, sending flocks of migratory birds scattering in panic.
"Airship!"
"Has the Empire of Infer gone mad? They dare send airships here?"
In an instant, the prisoner camp erupted into chaos. Mockery, heated debates, and curses intertwined into a deafening uproar.
"Bwooo—"
The sound of assembly horns, coupled with the hoarse shouts of officers, echoed through every corner of the camp.
Countless Farlay soldiers rushed out of their shelters, weaving through trenches as they sprinted toward their defensive positions.
"Nine o'clock direction! Anti-aircraft artillery at 47° elevation!"
"Heavy machine guns at 34°! If those damned airships dare dive-bomb, turn them all into fireworks!"
Under the frantic orders of their superiors, soldiers at every firing position scrambled into action.
Elevation and traverse chanisms spun wildly as gun barrels swung in unison, their muzzles pointed skyward.
High-explosive shells were loaded into the barrels one after another, the tallic clang of breechblocks slamming shut reverberating across the battlefield!
At this mont, every Farlay soldier held their breath, waiting for the airships to draw near—so they could blast them all into fiery debris.
The officers in the Farlay command post clenched their fists in excitent.
Who would’ve thought that even after being relegated to the rear, they’d still get a chance to fight?
And even earn rits!
By now, no one paid any attention to Yarman, still tied to the railing.
Yarman looked up in shock, his eyes widening as a fleet of airships painted with grotesque, blood-eyed, fanged designs burst through the thick clouds.
Backlit by the sun, the terrifying markings seed to co alive—like demonic figures cackling madly, heralding horror!
These were not Empire airships.
The Empire didn’t even have models like these!
As a mid-ranking officer of the Empire of Infer, Yarman imdiately recognized that these airships—with their massive underslung cabins defying all thermodynamical logic—were not of Imperial make.
Who were they?
Could they be… the Val Dynasty’s air force?
But how did they cross the vast, uninhabited highlands?
The mont this thought flickered through Yarman’s mind, the monstrous airships suddenly split open their massive underslung cabins—like a ghastly mother giving birth to demon spawn.
One after another, the demon spawn cackled maniacally as they plunged toward the earth!
"Damn it! High-altitude bombing!"
"Take cover!"
"Take cover!"
The objects in their vision—re black specks at this distance—sent Farlay officers into hysterical roars.
If airships had any remaining military utility, it was high-altitude bombing.
Indiscriminate blind bombing from altitudes of 3,000 ters, where anti-aircraft artillery could hardly reach.
However, this tactic was prohibitively costly and yielded minimal returns, teetering on the brink of obsolescence.
Flying high ant sacrificing accuracy—hitting targets relied more on divine blessing than skill.
Often, after a full bombing run, the ground might look like hell itself, but critical strategic targets—especially bunkers—remained untouched.
A concentrated barrage from an anti-aircraft formation would’ve been far more effective.
"The Empire of Infer truly are blasphers! They don’t even care about their own soldiers!"
Farlay officers huddled in their shelters sneered in contempt.
It was predictable that after this wave of bombardnt, the Farlay soldiers might remain unscathed, but the prisoners from the Empire of Infer would undoubtedly suffer heavy casualties.
The Farlay officer thought of this.
Yarman thought of it too!
As the Farlay soldiers scrambled into cover, he could only scream madly toward the prisoner camp nearby.
"Scatter! Scatter!"
But what good was scattering without cover?
For a mont, overwhelming despair and fury filled Yarman's heart.
"No, no! These aren’t bombs!"
Roaring, Yarman widened his eyes as he stared at the falling objects in the sky.
As the descending payloads drew closer to the ground, their shapes gradually beca clear.
They weren’t bombs at all—they were steam cars!
Yes, though they looked bizarre, covered entirely in riveted armor, he recognized them at a glance. Those were steam cars.
Was this madness?
Airdropping steam cars?
What kind of steam car could survive a drop from this height?
As Yarman’s face twisted in disbelief, the plumting steam cars suddenly slowed their descent unnaturally at a hundred ters above the ground.
Then, with an eerie sense of effortlessness, they crashed onto the earth with a thunderous impact.
"BOOM!"
One after another, steam tanks smashed into the Osman Defense Line stretching over ten miles. Though they still left craters in the ground, the impact was clearly within the tanks' tolerance.
One of them landed shockingly close to Yarman!
As Yarman stood dumbfounded—
"ROOOOAR—"
The steam tank roared, belching thick white steam.
The drive wheels spun wildly, turning the road wheels, idlers, and return rollers, driving the tal treads forward. It crushed wide trenches, vertical walls, deep water, swamps, barbed wire, and sandbag barricades—like a fearless tal monster, charging recklessly toward the Farlay camp!
"Fire! Fire! Open fire at will!"
The Farlay soldiers hiding behind sandbag barricades were stunned!
It took them a mont to react. Under their officers' orders, they set up heavy machine guns and unleashed a furious tal storm!
"CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!"
Bullets capable of shredding werewolves to pulp struck the 6mm armor. Before they could fully release their kinetic energy, the angled riveted armor deflected half of it.
The bullets could only ricochet away in frustration.
"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
The tanks' rapid-fire cannons roared to life. Flas spat from their muzzles as shells shrieked like vengeful spirits, slamming into the Farlay heavy machine gun positions.
"KABOOOM—"
In an instant, amid erupting fla mushrooms, tal fragnts and gory debris scattered wildly across the battlefield!
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
Several rapid-fire cannons from the Farlay positions fired at the tanks.
"BOOOOM!"
Under the force-dispersing effect of the angled riveted armor, the rapid-fire cannon shells could only leave fist-sized dents and vibrations—nothing more.
And the exposed rapid-fire cannon positions were imdiately targeted by four or five tanks in a concentrated barrage!
Under the big data aggregation of the internet's Prophecy Godhood, all exposed rapid-fire cannons, heavy machine guns, and howitzers were pinpointed and marked, displayed on the virtual screens of the tank crews.
Thus, they naturally beca the primary targets of concentrated fire from all tanks!
"Rat-tat-tat-tat—"
The deafening roar of cannons drowned out the howling machine guns atop the steam tanks.
Yet, it was the machine guns that truly reaped lives!
Wherever the steam tanks advanced, lives fell like weeds. Faced with these iron-clad behemoths, even the mightiest werewolves could only be crushed under their treads!
This was nothing short of a massacre!
"No!"
"Mom! Save !"
"I want to go ho!"
"God, help !"
The Farlay soldiers broke. More and more threw down their weapons, fleeing in panic or cowering in cover, trembling.
But surrendering only led to an even more tragic fate.
For a ti, screams, wails, and pleas for rcy echoed across the Osman Defense Line!
"BOOM—!!!"
Pale steam roared, magic steam engines bellowed, rapid-fire cannons spat death, and machine guns howled as they unleashed an unending storm of bullets, harvesting lives.
tal treads crushed sandbags and corpses alike, leaving devastation in their wake, flaunting their dominance across the battlefield!
At this mont, flesh was weak—steel was eternal!
Yarman was utterly horrified.
The pain and weakness in his body faded into numbness.
He stared blankly at the carnage around him. War had unfolded before him in a way he had never imagined, shattering decades of military experience and his entire worldview!
Amid the relentless artillery fire, his soldiers tore through the tal barriers, rushing out to rescue him.
The group huddled in a nearby trench, trembling, their minds blank.
After what felt like an eternity, a tank suddenly rolled over the trench they were hiding in—only to stop abruptly.
Yarman and his soldiers felt their hearts leap into their throats!
In their terror, they could even see dismbered limbs caught in the tal treads.
"Creak—!"
The massive tal beast groaned with chanical friction.
But what greeted them wasn’t the turning barrel of a cannon—but an open circular hatch.
An Infer Workers' Republic soldier poked his head out and climbed onto the tank.
Hanging halfway out, he extended a hand toward them.
"I’m Morris from the Boat-01 Unit, 0174 Squad of the Infer Workers' Republic. How about joining us and crushing the Farlay Dynasty?"
Yarman froze at his words.
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