This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 485.1: The Desperate Griffin

"Achoo!"

Without warning, Battlefield Cheerleader sneezed while staring out the jeep window at the boundless dunes bathed in sunset light.

Sitting beside him, Cowley spoke up. "We're already in the northwest corner of the Sunset Province. It gets chilly at night. Need a blanket, my fear friend?"

"No, I’m fine." Battlefield Cheerleader forced a smile onto his face and turned his gaze back to the distant dunes, where a long column of troops could be seen. They were soldiers utterly exhausted both physically and mentally.

At that moment, they were marching behind the Second Battalion under the Fifth Division as they made their way to Oasis No.2, the territory of the Falcon Kingdom.

Before reporting to the commander of the Fifth Division, he had to stick with Cowley’s unit for a while.

The disastrous defeat of the Fourth Division had rendered them incapable of holding Oasis No.3. The entire Army's deployment in the Sunset Province was quickly retreating toward the far west of the desert.

Fortunately, Cowley’s direct superior was a wise man who decisively initiated the retreat the moment he received the order.

Thanks to that, they had almost reached the edge of Oasis No.2 without encountering the New Alliance.

By contrast, the Seventh and Eighth Divisions weren’t so lucky.

Rumor had it that just the day before, the Eighth Division clashed with the New Alliance’s Skeleton Corps on a desolate stretch of the desert about 100 kilometers away. Without armored support or cover, the battle turned into a one-sided massacre that didn’t even last half a day.

Patting Battlefield Cheerleader’s shoulder, Cowley picked up a pair of binoculars and scanned the sand-choked horizon, where faint outlines of tall cacti and swaying desert shrubs were beginning to emerge.

Vegetation was becoming increasingly abundant, showing signs they were getting close.

"That up ahead is Oasis No.2."

Even though they were close to their destination, there wasn’t a hint of joy on Cowley’s face. His furrowed brows were instead tinged with a faint, grim shadow.

They had successfully escaped the New Alliance’s pursuit, but they had also lost everything they had gained over the past few months.

He was sure that the Army’s strategic deployments and tactical prowess surpassed the New Alliance, yet the ferocity of the New Alliance’s offensive had still exceeded their expectations.

It was as if those people couldn’t be killed!

If they hadn’t acted so intelligently and bled like normal people, he would’ve seriously suspected they were clones or androids.

What was even more disheartening was that, despite his talent for analyzing failure, he had no clue where things had gone wrong.

Even with their supply issues, they had a force of nearly 100,000! How could they possibly be chased down and beaten by a force of just over 10,000?

"Do we have any plans after reaching Oasis No.2?" asked Battlefield Cheerleader, glancing at Cowley’s worried face.

"The plan is to have no plan." Cowley replied after a long silence, lowering his binoculars. "I heard that our central command is in total chaos. We expected to hold Oasis No.3 until next month, but we abandoned it half a month early. That means we’ll be relying on our allies' poor infrastructure and limited industrial capacity to fight on for at least another month."

"That’s... Difficult," Battlefield Cheerleader mumbled, giving the most politically correct answer he could.

"It’s more than just difficult!" Cowley squinted into the sandstorm, trying to pierce through the swirling dust. "Enough about that. Up ahead is Bist Town."

Bist Town wasn’t located within the oasis. It was more like Petra Fortress to the Camel Kingdom, a stronghold on the outskirts. But unlike the commercially-oriented Petra Fortress, the border town was a full-fledged military fortress.

It had been built with the assistance of the Wislanders for the Falcon Kingdom. Rows of concrete tank traps surrounded the town like rivers, and bunkers made of reinforced concrete sat just beyond them.

At its center were anti-aircraft positions, logistics hubs, and an airfield.

There were no civilian facilities there. Not a single family could be seen. Apart from a small stationed force, most of the population consisted of conscripted laborers.

If the terrain rating of Oasis No.3’s defensive perimeter was a 3 and its fortification rating a 1, then Bist Town was the complete opposite.

After passing the outermost checkpoint, the group was soon greeted by muddy pits and a somewhat straight dirt road. On both sides of the road stood local laborers, sunburnt and holding shovels, most of them residents from nearby villages.

Battlefield Cheerleader noticed they were staring at him.

Their malnourished faces were lifeless, their pupils dulled like they’d been dusted with ash. Although their bodies bore whip scars, their eyes held neither hatred nor anger.

What showed more clearly was how numb they were to everything that was happening.

He unexpectedly caught a hint of schadenfreude in one worker’s eyes, though the man masked it carefully.

Looks like even among those semi-slaves, there were still a few clever ones. They could already sense the war was ending.

Battlefield Cheerleader couldn’t help but think of the nobles of the Falcon Kingdom.

They had been utterly drained and could no longer resist the Wislanders’ rule. But now, when even a blind man could see the Wislanders were about to lose, he wondered what they might be thinking.

He suddenly found himself looking forward to the expressions on their faces when they arrived.

At the end of the dirt road stood a checkpoint. The guards had spotted them early and, after verifying their unit number, raised the barrier.

As Battlefield Cheerleader gazed at the concrete structures in the distance with an absent mind, a man in luxurious attire walked toward them from the side of the road.

With a high nose and wavy hair, his facial features suggested he was a desert native, but he was clearly far more well-off than the laborers they had seen earlier.

Cowley signaled the driver to pull the jeep to the side of the road before ordering the troops and supply trucks to keep moving forward.

The noble approached the car with deference and spoke politely, "Honorable Lord Cowley, I am Wiedler, the mayor of Bist Town. On behalf of the 300 soldiers here, I extend to you our sincerest welcome."

But Cowley didn’t bother exchanging pleasantries. He simply tossed a supply list into the man’s hands. "I need the items on this list, especially the fuel for our trucks. I expect them before sunset."

The list bore the logistics department’s signature.

Wiedler hesitated as he heard the second half. "But... the sun has already set."

"Fine. Get them in two hours," Cowley replied impatiently. He had no intention of wasting time with Wiedler.

"Y-yes, sir!" Wiedler nodded frantically and immediately ordered his aides to take action. Then, flashing a fawning smile, he asked, "By the way, honorable sir, may I ask how long you intend to stay here? It’s so I can prepare suitable..."

Cowley cut him off coldly, seeing right through his intentions. "We’ll be gone by morning. Just give us space in the barracks."

He had no fear of clashing with the New Alliance. However, that was only after his soldiers were fully armed and supplied. Otherwise, it would be no different from marching to their deaths.

Wiedler’s eyes flickered with disappointment. It seemed those people wouldn’t be sticking around to help him.

With only 300 soldiers on hand, they were no match for the New Alliance.

But he didn’t dare complain. He could only bow his head and mutter meekly, "Yes, sir."

...

After issuing his orders, Cowley didn’t linger and immediately led his exhausted troops toward the barracks on the northeastern side of the fortress.

Morale in the camp was a little low. After eating, the soldiers clustered in threes to fives, whispering to one another.

“Did you hear? General Griffin has disappeared...”

“Disappeared?! How is that possible?!”

“Are you crazy?! Are you tired of living? Why are you spreading a a rumor like that?!”

“It’s impossible for him to disappear, but things have been strange lately. We haven’t seen anyone from the New Alliance along the way, nor anyone from other units.”

“What is the command headquarters doing?”

“No idea... Maybe General Griffin is plotting some big move. I believe if he gets serious, the New Alliance won’t be a match for him!”

“Shh... Enough...”

A soldier nodded toward Battlefield Cheerleader, who was walking by, and the others immediately fell silent.

Everyone knew he was one of Cowley’s confidants.

Although rumors said he’d been reassigned to be an adviser for the Ten-Thousand-Man Unit’s officer corps, officially he was still Cowley’s subordinate.

Nobody liked being snitched on, but Battlefield Cheerleader was too lazy to pay them any attention.

He was curious about Griffin’s situation, but he didn’t think a handful of grunts had any way to know what the highest command in Sunset Province was doing.

After all, the rumors they were spreading were basically nonsense!

He found an unused latrine, squatted down, and quickly logged out for a quick breakfast in real life after finishing his dinner in game. While he was offline, he had to go online to see where his good buddies had reached.

According to the information provided by Darkest, his old position at G53-7 had already been taken by the Storm Corps.

Maybe because their Centurion had been transferred, the Decurions promoted from the Falcon Kingdom didn’t resist for long and chose to surrender decisively.

Probably worried about New Alliance reprisals, they worked overtime to pin their previous victories entirely on ‘Pangolin’.

The Lion Kingdom’s troops, under Prince Wint, had taken over the captured troops.

By then, the infamous Pangolin was known all the way in the Lion Kingdom, where he was being described as a child-eating monster who prowled around at night.

Reading Darkest’s embellishments on the forum, Battlefield Cheerleader could only shrug in disbelief. He was helpless to do anything anyway.

He was certain the rumors were heavily exaggerated.

What made him most speechless was that those bastards never bothered to stick to a script when bragging about him.

How am I responsible for everything?!

“Damn it, my leg’s gone numb from squatting...” Cursing, he hiked up his trousers.

He had been in the latrine a while and as he pushed the toilet door open, he nearly ran into a tall, high-nosed woman who boasted a large chest.

“Hi!” Seeing Pangolin finally come out, Penny hadn’t worked out how to start a conversation, so she started to make small talk. “You were in there for a while...”

Talk of anything else was fine, but when she mentioned that, Battlefield Cheerleader tensed up. He cleared his throat and forced a calm answer. “I was afraid of reopening the wound... I don’t dare put too much force on it.”

Well, he wasn’t lying when he said that.