Chapter 8: Boris: Are New Recruits Really This Fierce Nowadays?

“Damn it, Frisch has been stabbed to death!”

Staring at their comrade’s convulsing body on the ground, a Fear Knight cried out in disbelief.

“How is this possible? How could our power armor be pierced by a bayonet?”

Another Fear Knight beside him was equally dumbfounded, wondering if Frisch had been wearing a counterfeit suit of power armor.

“Damn it! It must be those factory owners who deserve to be hung from lamp posts, cutting corners behind our backs! Once we return home, I’ll write a letter to the Emperor to report this!”

As the two spoke, a support player rushed over. Ignoring the three fallen comrades and the corpse of the Fear Knight on the ground, he swiftly raised his light machine gun and began firing from the hip with astonishing skill.

The 0818 light machine gun unleashed an incredible barrage of fire, a dense hail of bullets pouring onto the two Fear Knights, yet none could penetrate their power armor.

Still, the players were forced to retreat under the relentless assault. It was clear that although their armor could stop the bullets, their bodies still felt the impact.

The two Fear Knights attempted to fight back, but more players soon arrived, hurling a series of grenades.

Seeing this, the two Fear Knights hastily withdrew, bewildered by the extraordinary combat prowess of these Cambrian soldiers.

Haonan: "Medic! Hurry! Brothers, pull me up!"

Two assault players also shouted over the comms, their death timers ticking down. Without a medic to revive them, they would have no choice but to respawn.

Fortunately, a medic quickly arrived wielding a syringe, administering injections to the three downed players.

After the injection, the players, previously battered and beyond hope, instantly revived, restored to full vigor.

Even their tattered uniforms were repaired, returning to pristine condition.

Truly, the medic’s syringe was a miraculous device, almost a weapon defying causality itself in the real world.

Without even a word of thanks, the revived players dashed forward eagerly, still hungry for kills.

---

The recent kill log showed that a single Fear Knight was worth 60 merit points—equivalent to six ordinary soldiers.

With such valuable targets remaining, it was no wonder the players pursued them fervently.

As they chased, players chatted about certain game mechanics.

Haonan: "I've noticed that players can be revived by medics after death, provided their bodies remain intact."

"For example, if I’m killed by a submachine gun, my body remains mostly whole, preserving critical parts, so the medic can revive me instead of me having to respawn. But if shredded by a heavy machine gun, that’s impossible."

Frozen Pear Emperor: "Good point. We need to be careful of heavy weapons—if they kill us, we don’t even get a chance at a medic’s rescue!"

Meanwhile, Boris and the other soldiers arrived, panting heavily. Unlike the players, they lacked the stamina to sprint endlessly while carrying packs and weapons.

As they charged with rifles in hand, they prepared to sacrifice themselves with grenades, assuming the soldiers who had just charged were dead from the ferocious gunfire and explosions.

Most Cambrian soldiers were rookies unfamiliar with warfare, but veterans like Boris knew well the overwhelming advantage the knights in power armor held in trench combat.

He was ready to fight to the death with grenades to take down the enemy knights.

Yet upon arrival, the scene defied his expectations.

The trench was riddled with bullet holes, but no soldiers lay dead; instead, a single Black Eagle Fear Knight lay motionless, bleeding profusely.

“Wait, what? I...”

Boris was stunned by the astonishing outcome and the sight of the exuberant newcomers charging forward. For a moment, he was at a loss for words.

He desperately wanted to ask how these soldiers managed to kill a Fear Knight without losing a single man.

Killing a Fear Knight was no small feat, but doing so without any casualties? It was brutal.

Little did he know, the rookie soldiers of the Cambrian Empire had already reached an extraordinary level.

---

Boris paused, realizing these rookies’ combat abilities were beyond natural limits; their physical endurance alone surpassed his.

Continuing to charge without rest was pointless. By the time he caught up, the fight would have been over.

He decided to catch his breath and examine how the Fear Knight had died.

Looking at the heavy iron-clad figure on the ground, Boris was shocked to see a fatal wound—a hole pierced right through the chest plate.

Judging by its shape, it was clearly caused by a bayonet thrust.

What? A bayonet pierced power armor?

Boris was baffled, unable to understand how it was possible.

Was the Black Eagle Empire’s power armor poorly made, or was some soldier’s bayonet magically enhanced? The penetration was absurd.

He doubted his own eyes, drawing his bayonet and stabbing forcefully at the chest plate.

With a sharp clang, sparks flew as the blade struck the armor and shattered at the tip, leaving only a scratch on the plate.

The stark contrast left Boris more confused.

Could it be that those rookies’ bayonets truly possessed divine power?

Just as Boris wrestled with these questions, the players clashed with the Fear Knights again.

Two Fear Knights who had just retreated barely steadied themselves before the players pursued them relentlessly.

The Black Eagle soldiers, puzzled by how three Fear Knights had been so thoroughly beaten by ordinary Cambrian soldiers, soon witnessed a relentless barrage of grenades.

A torrent of grenades, including several cluster types, rained down like they were free.

At last, the Black Eagle soldiers understood why the Fear Knights had been driven back.

Then, in the next instant, they were engulfed by the explosions.