Counterfeit Hero

Various messages came from the frontline, a certain segment of the defense line was captured, and then another segment was retaken. The enemy had deployed more troops again, and another squad was pulled up to the front line...

By noon, the battle seemed to have stabilized. The enemy, who was launching fierce attacks continuously, eventually needed a breather. Moreover, people heard that the bandit army’s Armored Group was back! They were attacking from the perimeter, holding back the enemy’s offensive.

This news was exhilarating.

Back then, a hundred and twenty bandit army mechas wiped out a regiment. Now the bandit army has more than ten times that number. No matter what, they should be able to wipe out some ten to twenty enemy regiments, right?

The common folks estimated the result with this simple logic. After all, whether it’s for family or themselves, it was a form of consolation.

The entire Puluo Town was silently and busily responding to this battle. People sometimes involuntarily looked to the west of Puluo Town. That’s where the bandit army base was located. People firmly believed that as long as Scadivow Airport was there, and the soldiers in blue uniforms, Puluo Town would not fall!

At Scadivow Airport, Helen, temporarily serving as a nurse, was busy in the base hospital.

Sweat-drenched blonde hair hung in strands on her forehead. Her deep blue eyes were filled with exhaustion. Helen mechanically prepared medicines, cleaned the wounds of the injured, bandaged them, and handed instruments to the doctors.

No matter how tired she was, as long as she had a moment, Helen would quickly run to the window sill and adjust her camera aimed at the few huge helipads in the center of the base.

For a reporter, this was her duty. She believed the footage she shot could be broadcast after the eventual victory. She also believed she was recording a segment of history.

On the helipad, squads of soldiers were lining up. This scene has been ongoing from night until now. These soldiers from different sects and under different flags now wore the bandit army’s blue uniforms and stood silently, waiting for the military trucks to take them to the frontline.

Their energy guns had been checked and leaned against their legs. In front of them, the adjutants were hoarsely designating their upcoming positions.

Helen always felt that Fatty had Magic.

She witnessed with her own eyes these mercenaries, corporate employees, workers, and even gang members who came to Puluo Town following various sects, transform into soldiers obeying orders after repeated training. There was something indescribable taking root and sprouting in them.

It was a belief!

Fatty always told a paragraph to new reinforcements of the bandit army.

”I don’t care where you come from, and I don’t care what you’ve done before. Now, you are part of this army. When you stand here, you carry a responsibility on your shoulders! If you have a family, then this responsibility is your parents, your wife, your children. If you are single, then this responsibility is your freedom, your dignity.”

At this point, Fatty would pause, carefully looking at each individual before him, then seriously say: ”… You belong to this world, this planet named Mars. You shouldn’t be outcasts from human society. You are part of human civilization! If you want Mars to become a real Free World, you need to defend her like a real man! Remember, soldiers are the most masculine profession in this world! Those who dare not go to war, step out now!”

No one stepped out. Most of these people were professional mercenaries, members of security teams licking blood off blades daily. Others voluntarily joined this squad.

When the Sect War began, they realized that whether they were soldiers or not, they couldn’t evade this war. When they discovered they had no choice, saw their loved ones fall in pools of blood, and found Mars’ future so bleak, they only hoped to fight.

Then, in that kind of training that Helen found terrifying to recall, these people increasingly changed. Fatty said, they were all men! All they needed was a belief!

In the distance, the artillery fire erupted once again.

Adjusting the camera, Helen hurried back to the hospital, plunging into the busy nursing work.

Although exhausted, she felt happy to be able to play a part. She also had a belief. That is, she unwaveringly believed that Fatty would undoubtedly win!

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Feischer lay on the firing position in the trench, continuously aiming and firing.

After turning another enemy’s head into a battered tomato, he rolled over and slid to the bottom of the trench. Before he could steady himself, a warrior replacing him jumped up from beside him, crawling up to the firing position in just a few swift moves.

Nodding to those muddy comrades waiting to take over other firing positions, Feischer knelt on one leg, grabbed the energy box from the ammo crate, and skillfully slapped it onto the simulated G173 energy assault rifle.

After loading the magazine and turning off the safety, he casually leaned against the twisted metal bulletproof wall and stuffed a few energy magazines into his vest pockets. Only then did Feischer, exhausted, sit back against the mud wall, pull out a cigarette.