Chapter 530: Tank
"Wrrrrrrooooom—"
The whistle shrieked, and the Iron Beast roared as it crushed through the wilderness, belching thick white smoke. Inside the boiler, compressed steam surged, driving the engine to life. The spinning treads churned over the uneven, corpse-littered wasteland, shaking the very earth beneath them.
The sudden appearance of these steam-powered tanks was a thunderbolt of hope for the Empire’s soldiers, trapped in a desperate battle. From the trenches, they erupted into frenzied cheers.
“It’s the Old Pal Class!”
“Thank the gods!”
“I saw it in the Military Parade! That’s a steam tank—cutting-edge technology from the Department of Innovation!”
The massive steel frames, the jagged ram, the thick metal barrels—when they charged, even the ground trembled. These Iron Beasts were the ultimate embodiment of the Empire’s brutal aesthetic.
The demons, confused by this strange, metallic intruder, still surged forward, eager to tear the machine apart. But the moment the ram slammed into them, the outcome was sealed.
"Boom—!"
With a thunderous engine roar and the shrieks of dying demons, the tank charged forward without hesitation. The creatures in its path were flattened instantly—pulped, mashed into a bloody, tangled mass of meat.
And the cruelty was deliberate. To counter the Abyssal horrors, the Empire’s logistics team had coated the tank’s front armor with holy water. Even the slightest scrape caused the demons to scream in agony as their flesh burned and blackened.
“For the Empire—crush them!”
“Oho-ho-ho-ho!”
The interior of the modern steam tank was cramped—its crew consisted mainly of dwarves, halflings, goblins, and smaller humans. But inside the “Emperor’s Wrath,” the earliest and先锋 tank, there were over twenty crew members. This was no mere vehicle—it was a true mobile fortress.
Its main driver was a gnome named Bill, a dragon-vein gnomes with a wiry frame and fiery eyes. He stomped the clutch, shifted gears with practiced precision, then shoved the control stick to the floor, snarling:
“Damn it! Smash them! I won’t let a single demon get near our treasure! No one touches it!”
This was their first real combat, yet their movements were flawless—muscle memory forged through countless drills. They had trained for this day again and again, until every motion was instinct.
Though terrified by the sight of death, the timid demons and lesser fiends dared not disobey their higher lords. The command was etched into their very souls—deep in their spiritual cores. They howled, shrieked, and swarmed from all directions, hoping to overwhelm the iron beasts with sheer numbers.
A lean Bab demon darted across the ground, aiming to leap onto the tank. A Kwase demon flapped its wings in the air, claws outstretched, seeking to rip through the armor.
“Don’t let them get close! Damned demons!”
“Dak-dak-dak-dak-dak—!”
“Boom! Boom!”
From the tank’s row of machine guns, torrents of flame erupted. Bullets rained down like a storm, while the secondary cannons spat blazing tongues of fire. Within seconds, the area around the tank was reduced to a firestorm. In mere breaths, the surrounding demons were obliterated.
Clearly, the tank’s designer—Marquis Gilmor Sparo—was a devout follower of the Multi-Cannon Tower Cult.
The dozen Iron Beasts burst from the underground bastion, roaring through the air with engine thunder and steam bursts, crashing headlong into the demonic horde. The assault was shattered instantly.
Imperial infantry surged behind them, reclaiming strategic points and launching a furious counterattack. Soldiers marched over the crushed remains of demons, stepping on mangled flesh and broken bones, their war cries echoing across the battlefield.
“Charge!”
“For the Empire!”
The tide had turned.
But the Hunter Spiders, too, had noticed the anomaly.
In an instant, their mandibles grated together with a chilling caw, and they reared up on their hind legs. Their compound eyes flared with arcane light.
“Ssssshh—sssshh—sssshh—!”
Fire, ice, electricity, petrification—waves of magical energy shot from their eyes, lancing toward the steam tanks from every angle.
But the crew had anticipated this. The dragon-vein gnome at the controls twisted the stick violently, rotating the tank sideways, presenting its thickest armor to the incoming assault.
“Damn it! Move! Activate the anti-magic system!”
A complex web of glowing runes flared across the tank’s armored surface. A shimmering, invisible membrane enveloped the vehicle. The magical beams struck it—and vanished, dissipated like mist.
“Deploy smoke screen! Don’t let those eyes of yours burn my baby!”
The exhaust ports on top of the tank burst open. Thick, rolling smoke poured out, swallowing the Iron Beast in a wall of fog.
The giant machines advanced through the smoke, raining artillery fire in all directions. Most demons never saw their enemies—only to be blown apart or crushed under the ram.
For a moment, the demons were utterly disoriented, flailing blindly in the haze, easy prey for the passing tanks.
But the Hunter Spiders were no ordinary foes. As tools of the Abyssal Lords, their eyes possessed Darkvision, the ability to pierce Light Barriers, and other enchanted effects.
Before long, they locked onto the tanks moving through the smoke—glistening eyes fixed on prey.
“Aaaargh!”
A guttural roar split the air. The elephant-sized Hunter Spider leapt high into the air, landing with a thunderous crack atop the tank.
Against such a high-tier Abyssal monster, the holy water coating did little more than sizzle faintly on its armored shell—barely penetrating.
“Boom!”
The tank lurched violently. The iron plating dented inward. Inside, the crew cried out in panic.
“It’s on top!”
“Stay calm! Emergency Abjuration School ready!”
“Ssssshh—sssshh—sssshh!”
The spider’s eight hooked claws raked across the armor, scraping metal like nails on bone. The crew were clever—they targeted weak points, jabbing their limbs into cracks with spear-like precision.
“Clang!”
Bill steadied himself in the shaking cockpit. He stared up at the claw now poking through the armor breach, pointing at the ceiling and spitting furiously.
“Damned spider! You think you can scratch my baby’s skin? Dream on!”
With a defiant sneer, he took a long drag from his snow cigar.
Just as the spider began to tear through, the tank’s magical defense system activated.
Within the armor, arcane circuits surged with energy, unleashing blinding lightning that crackled across the entire frame.
“Zzzzzzz—Boom!”
A violent pulse of energy erupted, engulfing the tank. The spider was blasted off the roof, flying through the air before crashing into the ground, limbs twitching with electric current.
But the Abyssal creature was far from dead.
With agonizing effort, it dragged itself back to its feet, its compound eyes blazing with fury. It gathered strength, preparing to leap again—this time to devour the tiny creatures inside.
But for the tank crew, those few seconds of charging were their golden opportunity.
Bill spat out the cigar, a cloud of smoke puffing from his lips. With a clawed hand, he twisted the controls, steering the tank sharply while shouting:
“Now! Hit it with the main cannon! Now!”
Almost instantly, the loader strained to shove the massive shell into the breech. The gunner spun the joystick with lightning speed.
With a grinding of gears, the previously unused main cannon rotated, locking onto the charging spider.
Bill screamed, voice raw with rage:
“Send this damn thing—this home that dared harm my beloved treasure—straight to hell!”
“Boomrrrrr—!”
A deafening explosion shook the battlefield. Thick, acrid smoke filled the air, and the entire tank recoiled under the immense recoil. The ground cracked beneath it, sending dust and debris flying.
Under the pressure of the magic-steam boiler, the heavy armor-piercing shell shot from the barrel at unimaginable speed, cutting through the smoke and streaking toward the spider.
At the moment of impact—
“Ssssssshh—!”
The hardened alloy tip tore through the spider’s armored shell like paper. It punched straight through the abdomen, creating a massive hole.
Then, fragments of chitin and the burning core of the shell exploded inward, shredding the demon-flesh organs inside.
The force was catastrophic. The elephant-sized spider was hurled backward, limbs flailing, its body torn apart. Chitinous shards, purple-black blood, and internal organs sprayed across the field.
The corpse tumbled, rolled, twitched once—and fell still.
“Damned spider… trying to destroy my baby? Unforgivable!” Bill glared at the corpse, his small eyes flashing with rage. “It might not be dead yet. Let’s go crush it again!”
He yanked the controls, driving the tank over the remains. Clang! The already charred body flattened further.
But Bill wasn’t done. He reversed, pressed forward, crushed it again—until the remains were nothing more than a smear of meat and broken shell. Only then did he finally ease off.
“For the Emperor!”
“For King Kai Xiusu!”
“Let these spiders experience the fury of King Kai Xiusu!”
The crew roared in ecstatic fury, charging deeper into the enemy lines.
Indeed, these steam tanks were designed with precision. The massive ram, the powerful armor-piercing main gun—every feature pointed to one purpose: crushing hordes of weak enemies or colossal beasts.
Their intended foes? Deep Abyss Demons.
This design had been personally demanded by King Kai Xiusu. The Empire of Ashen had been preparing for this moment for years.
And now, across the battlefield, steam tanks surged forward, followed by infantry reclaiming lost positions. The dream of combined arms warfare had finally come true.
“Boomrrrr—!”
Another explosion. A Hunter Spider’s head was blown clean off, brain matter and venom spraying across the slope. Its lifeless body tumbled down, crushing dozens of fleeing demons.
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
The secondary cannons unleashed torrents of fire, engulfing everything within a hundred meters. The air was a wall of flame and smoke.
Inside the “Conqueror” tank, the Battlefield Wheelchair Man slammed the control stick forward, laughing maniacally.
“Hahahaha! With this Artifact, who needs a wheelchair rifle? 0818, Type 2, Mauser—useless! This tank is the ultimate wheelchair! Long live the Multi-Cannon Tower Cult!”
“Long live the Multi-Cannon Tower Cult!”
The crew stared at their character sheets, where experience points flashed past at dizzying speed. They screamed in euphoric ecstasy.
“Aaargh!”
From above, a chorus of rasping roars echoed. Abyssal Drakes, their wings tattered and grotesque, swooped down, spewing black-red fire of intense heat.
“Shit? No anti-air guns?!”
“This design is pure cruelty—nine secondary cannons, zero anti-air!”
“Nooo! We just got in!”
A Drake dived, claws tearing at the turret. The Battlefield Wheelchair Man had pushed too far, reckless and overconfident. The tank’s electromagnetic pulse was still recharging. They’d charged so deep into the frontline—hundreds of meters past the infantry—that their support was gone.
Now, trapped under the dragon’s assault, they were helpless.
Players began blaming each other. Firepower focused on the one man at the wheel—because he was the driver.
“Battlefield Wheelchair Man, this is your fault!”
“Yeah, you’re really bad at this!”
“Next time, you’re riding a wheelchair rifle!”
“We’re gonna learn one thing today—vehicles need a real expert!”
“Damn it, this is our Mechanical Divinity private asset! We paid top price for it!”
All memory of their earlier Charge! frenzy vanished. The blame fell squarely on the wheelchair man.
Then—a new sound.
A deep, thunderous roar split the sky—different from the shrieks of Abyssal demons. This voice was powerful, ancient.
“That’s…”
“Shit—there’s hope!”
The crew’s eyes lit up. Through the periscope, they saw it.
High above, a crimson tide surged across the battlefield’s flank—Wyverns and Flame Wyverns, a wave of fire and fury.
It was the Empire of Ashen’s Dragon Horde.
At the front, Alje raised his ever-burning greatsword, voice booming:
“In the name of King Kai Xiusu! In the name of the Empire of Ashen! Crimson Scale Conqueror—CHARGE!”
“ROOOOOOOOAR—!”
With a hurricane of heat and fire, the dragon horde descended. The roar of dragons and knights echoed across the battlefield as they poured down from the flank, crashing into the enemy lines like a tidal wave.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
