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墨書 Inktalez
The number of insects clearly held an absolute advantage, but fortunately, they only occupied the ground in overwhelming numbers. Humanity could directly suppress them from the air using technological weapons. If it were just a ground battle, it could still be managed, but with swarms of flying insects, even deploying the human army might not yield significant results. It seemed as if the rise of the Zerg was a true reflection of another species nearing its end.
"Is that really the case?" Freyr murmured to himself as he gazed out of the airplane window, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, on another front, the war seemed to be reaching its conclusion. The various assaults by the Air Force had come to an end, and the remaining insects could still be described as a Swarm. However, the casualties were beyond what could be quantified; it was a truly terrifying number, with hundreds of thousands of insects involved.
Among them were those that had been directly scorched by Napalm and incendiary bombs. These insects had bizarrely curled into a massive cylindrical shape, using the outer ones as a shield to absorb the heat from the flames. As a result, this Firewall did not stop their movements. In contrast, many horrifying corpses littered the battlefield, but at this moment, humanity could not deploy a large army to reclaim the area. If they could win this battle, the rewards would undoubtedly be immense.
This kind of battle could truly be described as unprecedented; many people would boast about having experienced it for the rest of their lives—if they survived. They would witness humanity finally regaining some dignity. Although casualties were inevitable, dignity equated to respect—living respect. After so many years of humiliation, they had finally encountered a significant victory. Future uncertainties could be addressed later; for now, winning this defense was foundational to success. If they could defend against this attack, every subsequent battle could draw lessons from it. This was an invaluable historical military textbook that could not be overlooked; thus, no matter the cost, this battle had to be won.
The aircraft began to retreat while another wave of aircraft from the base prepared to deploy in half an hour.
After replenishing ammunition, the returning aircraft awaited their turn to re-enter the battlefield. Those pilots fortunate enough to return alive would surely feel grateful to witness humanity's resistance and ultimate victory despite such a vast disparity.
Upon arriving at Nipoguan, Freyr disembarked from the Helicopter.
As usual, he was taken away for questioning by several individuals, and applause echoed from within the conference room.
Their communication devices were activated, and he heard numerous voices from pilots along with the noise of planes flying through clouds.
"Thank you all for your hard work; welcome back alive! We have prepared a feast for you; you are humanity's future—our elites! I will be waiting here for your return."
Indeed, there had never been a banquet held during wartime before, but this time was an exception. It served both as a tribute to fallen warriors and as a means to quickly promote this victory and elevate the overall combat effectiveness of the Soldiers. Hilbert's calculations were sharper than anyone else's, and excited laughter came through from the other side of the communication device.
"Alright, call the chef to my warehouse and open a bottle of Louis XVI," Hilbert instructed his secretary.
The secretary, equally excited, hurried off to relay the order to the chef. The chefs accompanying the army were all three-star chefs from prestigious hotels. They typically would not prepare large quantities of food for an entire army, as doing so would undermine their identity and values. However, they had come here for the future of humanity, and even if tasked with making large pots of food, they would ensure it was done with elegance and refinement.
It should be noted that they were not mere cooks; those ordinary people who had never tasted fine dining were now fortunate enough to enjoy exquisite dishes typically reserved for the elite. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for them.
They should be grateful to be here serving in the military. Even if they were to face a one-way trip, being able to savor such fine meals was already a fulfillment.
Louis XVI was an exceptionally rare wine, said to have been buried during the reign of Louis XVI himself.
For Drunkards, the value of wine wasn't solely in drinking; they were willing to cherish it as a keepsake, treating it with reverence.
As the Feast took shape, most of the pilots returned. Airships landed on the runway while engineers worked tirelessly on inspections and repairs. The pilots breathed a sigh of relief upon returning to camp.
Having just come back from the battlefield, some embraced each other in tears. Many had perished in the war, and as they looked back at the empty parking spots, they realized that familiar Battlefield had fallen silent, with lives lost amidst the explosions.
Though they had died, their spirits remained united, holding on to any chance of a turnaround.
After eating and resting for a while, this group would likely take to the skies again to confront the Swarm.
Once again, many comrades would disappear. Therefore, they would embrace tightly and drink together, cherishing this moment before it slipped away.
Uncertain of how many would return alive after this mission, Hilbert poured his Louis XVI onto the ground in tribute to the fallen soldiers. He shattered his cup to assert his authority, proving himself as a master linguist who instantly tapped into the sensitive nerves of those around him.
The warriors, having indulged in a bit of drink, felt a surge of boldness. They knew that after a night of sleep, they would forget much of what transpired, but one thing would remain etched in their minds: they would never flee, for they were warriors fighting for the future of humanity. For the sake of that uncertain future, they were determined to seize this moment for all mankind.
Ahead lay what might be the last advantageous terrain; beyond that valley, an open plain stretched out before them.
The soldiers formed ranks to engage the enemy Swarm. Countless lives would be lost in this battle. Though they were elite troops, they could not withstand the overwhelming numbers and strength of their foes; the disparity was far too great.
This fight had to be fought to the bitter end, resolutely.
After their meal, these soldiers would have five hours of sleep, during which doctors would be on hand to monitor their health, striving to ensure that all requirements were met as best as possible.
If there were any soldiers who had not eaten enough, the chef would personally take to the kitchen, doing everything possible to satisfy their cravings for delicious food.
Whether they would survive to return and enjoy the same meals again was no longer important; what mattered was living well and eating well in the present.
As long as they did not violate military discipline or moral codes, or break any laws, anything they did would be forgiven.
Even confessing feelings to the attractive Nurse Sister could be met with a favorable response; she might agree and consider giving him a chance if he returned alive.
In the face of grave danger, all trivial matters took a backseat.
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