Chapter 539 Changes in the Battlefield 2

The number of Longwa coalition's battle fortresses is far less than that of the mobile farms dispatched by the Zerg.

In the face of high-level ultra-long-range firepower bombardment, Longwa fleets have always been at a disadvantage.

Not only the E75 war zone, but also the various Longwa coalition forces in the inner circle of the cradle are facing similar situations.

Each pre-war command is constantly sending messages to the headquarters for assistance.

The battle consumption is too great. Even if no more troops are sent, at least more logistical supplies should be delivered.

As the commander-in-chief of the coalition, Quinn and many gods' spokespersons have had many disputes over this.

Many gods' spokespersons are afraid of being punished by gods when they see unexpected events in the war.

Not only do they begin to shirk responsibility from each other, but they also want to favor their own fleets more and more frequently.

Time passed in a meaningless quarrel.

The various pre-war command centers that have been waiting for a long time for a reply can only make the most reasonable response possible according to the situation on the scene.

Either they divided their troops to block the Zerg reinforcements, or they tried their best to shrink their forces to prepare for a decisive battle. In a short period of time, no large-scale battles broke out.

Only on the front lines, the cruel war of attrition continued, and there was a hidden trend of intensifying.

And the weak mental induction spread silently by the brain worms on the front battlefield was also spreading.

…………

In the E75 ocean current war zone, the Zerg's crazy counterattack without interruption has lasted for several days.

In the closed hangar full of metallic smell, the logistics personnel were busy repairing one damaged mecha after another.

Alan, with a haggard face, was lying in the cockpit of the mecha with a tired look, resting every minute.

As a knight of the Holy See who has served for nearly a hundred years, he has experienced countless wars.

This time, he accepted God's will and came to the front line of the Zerg elimination operation for more than half a year.

As a front-line combat force, the mecha knight brigade led by Alan did not have a heavy task.

But since the Zerg began to counterattack a few days ago.

Originally they only needed to escort the fleet and clean up the battlefield, but it seemed that they jumped from the original relaxed environment to nightmare mode all of a sudden.

Facing the continuous and non-stop crazy rush of insects and beasts.

In his mecha knight brigade, he is the only one still alive.

Even as an ace pilot, he controls a high-end mecha with powerful performance.

In the chaotic battlefield where life is worthless, there is no time to rest at all.

The high-intensity battle has exhausted Allen physically and mentally.

"Knight Allen, you have been assigned to the 164th Mecha Brigade."

"Mecha maintenance, ammunition supply has been completed, please attack immediately!"

With the shouting of the ground staff, Allen, who had only rested for less than half an hour, woke up instantly.

Looking up at the originally red attack sign, it has turned green.

He slowly moved his hand to the attack button, but he couldn't press it at this time.

After a long battle in the void and being exposed to the silent mental induction of the brain worm, Allen's eyes blurred for a while.

The scenes of his comrades' mechas being torn apart by the Zerg and their bodies being taken out of the cockpit and eaten by the worms flashed wildly in front of his eyes.

The tired spirit, weak fingers, and huge pressure have almost made him breathless.

The huge steel door at the end of the ejection track, in his eyes, was like a huge mouth of the abyss that would devour anyone.

Passing through it, Allen will once again step into the hell that he had finally escaped from death.

At this moment, Allen's devout belief in the gods was shaken for the first time.

The vivid appearance of his deceased companions kept appearing in front of him, making his tired eyes more confused.

Through the developing light screen in the cabin, he stared blankly at the ground crew standing on the dispatching bridge, constantly urging him to eject.

A faint whisper slowly came out of his mouth.

"Why? This is unfair!"

"Why can we, the Mur tribe, only operate mechas and fighters and charge into battle desperately?"

"Are we really too stupid to learn how to operate a warship?"

"Or are the Mur tribe more brave and good at fighting, so they are only suitable for driving mechas?"

"No, no..., that's just an excuse for us to die!"

Alan, with a bleak look on his pale face, was confused at this time.

He actually knew the reason a long time ago.

It's just that he always deliberately avoided this reality on weekdays.

The Mur tribe is not the core followers of God. No matter how fanatical their faith is, they are just cheap cannon fodder raised at will in the eyes of God.

Those ugly octopus crew members, just by virtue of their identity as the God's followers, can suppress themselves and their companions at will on weekdays.

But after going to the battlefield, these guys can stay in the safe rear and watch themselves and their companions being consumed as cannon fodder.

Allen tried hard to lift his heavy eyelids, but his vision became more and more hazy because of the mist rising from his eyes.

"Such a god... is it still worth my belief?"

"Heh..., don't believe it!"

The complete collapse of faith is just a thought away.

Without the shackles of faith, Allen seemed to feel that a mountain pressing on his head had disappeared.

An unprecedented pleasure surged from his soul, sweeping across his body, instantly destroying his remaining sanity.

Subconsciously looking at the fire control lock interface, the dazzling red warning signal reflected in Allen's eyes, so bright.

According to the normal process, after the void fighter and the combat mecha return to the cabin, the dispatcher will use the permission to lock the fire control equipment.

To avoid accidents caused by weapon misfires.

However, the continuous high-frequency attacks in recent days have made the dispatchers extremely tired. In order to pursue efficiency, they deliberately ignore this cumbersome process.

"Hahaha..., this may..., be regarded as the oracle of the gods?"

A crazy smile slowly appeared on Allen's distorted face.

"Together..., destroy!"

This mecha, which is nearly 20 meters high, covered with scratches and even penetrating bullet holes, suddenly raised its left arm and elbowed back.

"Bang!"

The ejection frame that was ready to launch was deformed with a loud noise.

After the upper body of the mecha was freed from the restraints of the machine, it turned sideways with great difficulty in an extremely twisted and over-limit posture.

The connection mechanism at the waist made a cracking sound during this action.

Before the terrified ground staff could react, the large machine gun mounted on the right arm of the mecha was already gushing out flames.

"Da da da..."

The armor-piercing bombs that had just been refilled in the magazine were swept wildly into the maintenance cabin under the influence of hot plasma.

After the stray bullets penetrated the porthole of the dispatch room, they exploded in the room, and the splashing shrapnel minced all the operators into minced meat.

But before the blood and flesh were splashed, they were completely destroyed in the flames that followed.

"Die! We will all die!"

"Haha, hahahahaha..."

The shrill and crazy laughter came from the external speaker of the mecha, mixed with the roar of the explosion, and spread throughout the battleship.