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The command center instantly transformed into a boiling cauldron of oil, filled with shouts of panic and a chilling atmosphere. Each shout, like a heavy wheel, rolled over Colonel Kari's suddenly taut heartstrings.
"W-what happened!" The officers who had been sleeping in the same group as the colonel rushed to him, frantically straightening their clothes as if they had been scalded by a red-hot iron plate.
"Keep calm, gentlemen!" the colonel tried his best to calm everyone down. "The frontline troops report that they have encountered..."
"Hey, look!" An officer standing in front of the electronic map table suddenly leaned over the edge of the table and shouted at it.
A truly terrifying scene is unfolding on the electronic screen...
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The markers representing the teams organizing defenses on the eastern front were gradually changing from pure blue to a dark yellow like withered leaves, and even turning into a blood-red color.
A bright "Heavy Damage" was displayed beneath each red marker, accompanied by flashes like a beating heart, creating crimson ripples around it. A series of piercing alarms from the map table echoed in everyone's ears like a chilling dirge.
Without hesitation, the first "LOST" (lost contact) marked with a box was now marked...
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Today, the morning in Berlin was even more bustling than yesterday.
Standing atop the Brandenburg Gate, gazing eastward as the sun slowly peeks over the horizon. Yesterday, the streets were a cacophony of noise, but now they've transformed into a massive cumulonimbus cloud, teeming with fiery lightning. Gray and brown clouds, seemingly out of nowhere, surged like a tsunami across the chaotic streets, engulfing the crumbling brick walls. Clusters of brown peonies, reeking of gunpowder, bloomed amidst the ruins; the fleeing figures and the agonizing cries of divine retribution were now barely noticeable.
Upon closer inspection, one might notice tiny black dots, like playful pebbles dropped from the clouds by angels hiding in the heavens. They fall to the ground with deafening thuds and hellish screams, seemingly transforming into a wisp of Satanic malice, gripping your heart tightly, causing unbearable pain.
Angels do not slaughter mortals on earth in heaven, but the killings created by mortals can fall from the sky.
More than ten kilometers to the east, a small town that should have been quiet and peaceful, as peaceful as yesterday, is now incredibly noisy in the dissipating fog.
A chaotic jumble of tire tracks covered a highway leading out of the city. The smell of diesel fuel hadn't dissipated, the dust hadn't settled, and a simple road sign nearby swayed slightly in the gentle breeze and the rumbling of tires…
"Neuenhagen bei Berlin" is a small town east of Berlin, a town that originally had tens of thousands of residents.
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The two small hills in the northwest are among the few high points in the town, and the booming sound waves come from them.
A row of howitzers, painted green, with their barrels raised high and roaring as they spewed shells and smoke, were continuously unleashing wave after wave of hellish attacks towards the center of Berlin, at the command of an officer.
Not far to the west of the cannons, under the cover of night, several trenches, resembling earthworms, had appeared. Even more trenches were pouring out more sand, becoming increasingly meandering.
Soviet soldiers, wearing olive-green steel helmets, were lying prone on the edge of the trenches, their rifles at neck height. Unlike the Yang Jilao, their uniforms were a mix of khaki, gray-green, and blue-gray.
Behind them, cannons roared towards the front, and looking further north and south, more cannons lined up on the positions, also spewing smoke, echoing the din behind them. Waves of dust and rumbling thunder reverberated before their eyes—Berlin, this city of mottled ruins.
Each person's face showed a mixture of smugness and unease.
"Comrade?" A soldier holding binoculars nudged the officer next to him with his elbow. "Lieutenant Comrade?"
"Hmm? Did you find something?" Anton, who had been busy all night, looked up, closed the booklet in his hand, and his expression became somewhat serious.
"This is Berlin, after all..."
"Ah..." the lieutenant chuckled. "What a pity, you were lying in a hospital bed back then, otherwise you could have run in with me."
"Consider it a chance to make up for some regrets, haha." He smirked and patted the soldier on the shoulder.
However, the lieutenant's eyebrows didn't relax for long before they started to furrow again.
"I really don't want to end up fighting with the Americans..." He raised his fist to his lips, let out a long breath, and muttered a few words to himself.
"Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" A soldier was waving at him from a small tunnel behind the trench.
"The radio is fixed!"
Anton followed the soldiers inside and squatted down in front of the radio.
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"This is Lieutenant Anton Vasilyev. Signal received! Please respond!"
"Very good, Lieutenant!" a mature voice came from inside. "Is everything alright?"
"Report: All is normal! No enemy activity!"
"Very good. Keep an eye on the artillery positions. Report any unusual activity to me immediately!"
After putting down the walkie-talkie, the lieutenant calmly walked back to his original position.
"Any new orders, comrade?"
“Nothing, keep watching.” Anton put down the gun hanging on his body and rolled up his sleeves. “The colonel seems a little worried about us.”
"The colonel is worrying unnecessarily!" Everyone turned their heads and saw Sheva, who had been driving for the lieutenant, smiling and talking in a lighthearted manner as he raised his rifle and aimed it at the clear sky—he was checking if the dust on the sights and front sights had been cleaned.
"Huh?" The lieutenant looked puzzled, then grinned with a hint of sarcasm. "What do you mean by that?"
Sheva didn't say anything, but turned his gaze directly to the back of the trench, to the sky further behind the artillery positions.
Everyone turned around and looked at the sky behind them—but more people were drawn to the roar of an engine than to Sheva's gaze.
In the distance, dozens of Il-2 attack aircraft, escorted by fighter jets, flew in formation across the sky like mighty eagles. The roar of their engines blended together, like a chilling alarm, as they flew towards Berlin.
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Sheva smiled, lowered his head, calmly unscrewed his water bottle, and leisurely took a sip.
"Look, comrades, hiccup, 'Flying Tank' has already answered the colonel for you."
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"So, what should we do now, Your Excellency?"
Crossing the streets obscured by artillery fire, and returning to the Brandenburg Gate, the sonic booms of the shells still resonated in the nerves of every Britannian soldier.
"Don't panic," Colonel Kari said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Immediately call District 11 City Hall and stop opening the portal!"
"Have you figured out where the suppressive fire is coming from?" A series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from the doorway.
When everyone turned around, Lieutenant Colonel Caronville appeared there at some point.
“Your...Your Excellency…” an officer stammered, “We…we didn’t send anyone to wake you up…”
"Cannons are always more effective than your broken alarm clocks," the lieutenant colonel said coldly, before rushing to the map table.
"Mark out which areas of troops were shelled."
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“Very good…” The lieutenant colonel tapped the table lightly. “Order all units on the eastern front to immediately retreat to Line 11 and organize defenses. Those who cannot escape or whose rapid retreat is inconvenient should find solid cover on the spot and wait for the shelling to end!”
"Yes!"
"Also, put..."
"Ah, um!" A soldier sitting at the control panel suddenly interrupted him, "Sir!"
"Hey! Don't you know to listen to the lieutenant colonel before you speak?" an officer shouted sternly.
"No, it's just something very important..."
"Wait a moment." The lieutenant colonel paused. "Speak, what is it that warrants interrupting me?"
"Lieutenant Arugel, who just went out on reconnaissance, is calling! There's a new enemy situation report!"
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Not far east of the Brandenburg Gate, in the center of Museum Island surrounded by the Spree River, stands the ancient Berlin Cathedral. Just months ago, it was ravaged by war, its walls torn and mangled. Even so, its sturdy form still stands beside the avenue, its bright emerald-green dome still undimmed by dust.
The only difference is that at this moment, at the top of the dome, there is an additional blue-purple steel doll standing there—an ordinary Sunderland mech.
"Report!" the lieutenant inside shouted anxiously, "We haven't located the enemy's artillery positions yet, but... sir, you'd better take a look at this quickly!"
The command center's large screen received a signal from the lieutenant. Now, what his Sunderland scout head saw was a dark mass, like migrating birds, but more like a swarm of poisonous bees covering the sky.
"Enemy planes?"
How much longer until they arrive?
"At their speed, they'll reach the camp and launch their attack in five minutes at most!" The lieutenant's voice was tinged with panic.
"Your mission is complete. Continue with what you were doing before," Caronville said, abruptly raising his voice to give the order after the communication was terminated.
"Order all squadrons at the base! Fully armed! Prepare for air combat! Deploy all defensive weapon arrays! Quickly!"
"Yes!"
The wailing alarms, like a burst dam, surged outwards, turning the camp's narrow paths into a turbulent torrent of men in black. The entire camp became a disturbed anthill, and an atmosphere of tension, panic, and anxiety spread like a virus.
The rumble of machines rose and fell without any discernible pattern. Inside and out, those things that looked like astronomical telescopes began to turn their heads, all pointing eastward at the sky filled with the aura of slaughter.
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"Sir! The machine gun turret array is now online! Requesting further instructions!"
"All turrets, according to their deployment positions, target bearings: F, G, H! Altitude 50 to 100, maximum rate of fire!"
"Yes!"
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"Air strike!—"
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!—"
Outside the command center, the black-clad crowd continued to surge and disperse like a river bursting its banks. The once neatly arranged mechs and armored vehicles had long since scattered like a swarm of locusts, dotting every inch of the camp. All sorts of mechanical guns and cannons, even the rifles held by the infantry, were all pointed towards the eastern sky.
It's unclear whether any of them were survivors of the fight against the Black Insurrection at District 11 City Hall a year ago, but at this moment, it doesn't matter whether they were or not. Because, the sudden news of their deaths, besides leaving different shocks in everyone's hearts, will only bring about the same ending.
A soul torn apart!
"Quick! Loosen the brace!"
In one of the still-standing Sunderland aircraft, the pilot was sitting in the cockpit, shouting orders to the support crew on the ground through a loudspeaker.
However, just as he bent down to pick up the brooch that had fallen to his feet, he seemed to hear something.
Gunshots, cannon fire, screams! Outside the mechs, the nightmarish sounds of gunpowder spraying and engine roaring echoed like nightmares!
Fortunately, he subconsciously looked up and saw what looked like a giant insect scurrying underground. A series of dust gushed out from the ground not far away and pounced on the young man in front of him!
"Oh! Damn it!" Before the pilot could even see the soldier torn apart by bullets, he frantically pulled the Sunderland control lever. With the hysterical screeching of the drive wheels against the ground, followed by a piercing snapping sound, the blue-purple steel doll, along with the steel bars of its ripped-off frame, hurtled forward, narrowly missing the giant blade of the ammunition belt.
The few Sakura Stone batteries next to the fixed frame were not so lucky. In the blink of an eye, they were chopped into pieces by the sharp axe of the ammunition belt. Another dazzling burst of electric sparks and a roaring explosion suddenly shot into the air, with billowing, hungry smoke taking everything around it into its belly.
"Ah, Your Majesty!" The pilot, still in shock, gripped the control stick tightly with bulging veins on his trembling hands.
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