That old dog Sergei, his intel was actually quite accurate this ti.
Pavel had [N O V E L I G H T] to admit as much to himself.
At this mont, he stood before a massive crate comparable to a small house; the lid had been pried open, and the wreckage of three chanical locks lay scattered at his feet.
On the way in, he had avoided at least three sets of cross-patrolling heavy infantry, bypassed two steam pressure induction mines disguised as ventilation ducts, and even used a long-abandoned underground drainage channel to perfectly evade the two modified auto-identification turrets captured by Victoriana at the main gate.
The security level here was absurdly high. If Sergei’s structural diagrams hadn't marked an extrely well-hidden blind spot, even Pavel would likely have been riddled with holes the mont he stepped into the warehouse.
Such security... ant this shipnt was extrely important.
It also ant this trip tonight wasn't in vain.
But...
The contents of the crate, however, were a type of weapon Pavel hadn't expected.
It was a sword.
For a human, it was an unimaginably massive blade; the hilt alone was as thick as an adult's calf.
But for a Steam cha nearly three ters tall, it was rely a standard-sized one-handed sword, appearing almost light and elegant.
It hung quietly inside the crate, locked tight by an incredibly complex restraint system made of brass and stainless steel.
It wasn't a simple clasp, but a hydraulic clamping system that was still slowly operating.
Dozens of copper pipes the thickness of a wrist connected nodes around the hilt and blade. The needles on the pressure gauges flickered near the red line, as if the weapon itself were a beast that needed constant suppression.
The blade had a dull, dark iron sheen. Its surface wasn't smooth as a mirror but was covered in fine, heat-conducting pipes that bulged like veins.
The edge wasn't sharpened; instead, it featured rows of terrifyingly fine chainsaw teeth or so kind of high-frequency vibration generator.
At the crossguard, an independent small high-pressure boiler was even embedded. It was currently dormant, but its heavy valves and thick exhaust ports all signaled the terrifying kinetic energy it would unleash once activated.
But, it was a sword.
Damn it, have those noble lords of Victoriana finally had their brains scalded by steam?
Pavel felt a sense of absurdity.
In an era where artillery ruled the battlefield, creating such a lee weapon was retro to the point of stupidity.
I've been busy all night, even squatting in the sewers for half the ti to avoid patrols.
And this is what I get?
He sighed, but still deployed a cutting blade from the cha's right arm, preparing to continue dismantling those complex brass lines.
Look on the bright side, this thing looks pretty heavy and sturdy.
If practicality isn't a concern, just using it to smash soone's cockpit would probably be a decent choice.
Most importantly, since I'm already here, I can't leave empty-handed.
...
But just then—
A profound, muffled boom seed to co from deep underground, and imdiately after, the entire warehouse floor jolted violently.
BOOM!!!
The gas lamps overhead shattered instantly, glass shards falling like rain.
Though the massive shockwave was blocked by the thick walls, the vibration still surged through the cha's feet straight into Pavel's spinal cord.
Artillery fire?!
Pavel's pupils contracted instantly.
This vibration wasn't from a small-caliber mortar fired for harassnt; this was a "Queen-class" field gun of the Victorian Empire!
And the impact point was extrely close!
Before he could steady himself from the sudden tremor, a piercing alarm tore through the night sky.
Woo—woo—woo—
It was the air-raid alarm unique to the Usar Union Army—shrill and sharp, like a strangled rooster screaming in its death throes.
"Attention all units! Attention all units! Engaging the enemy on all fronts! Repeat, engaging the enemy on all fronts!"
The commander's hoarse roar ca over the broadcast, the background filled with the sound of intense gunfire, shelling, and screams.
Pavel froze in place, the cutting blade hovering a few centiters above that brass line.
This is the Third Logistics Supply Depot... If even this place is being hit by artillery of this caliber...
A chill ran up his spine and straight to his head.
It ant the front lines had been breached.
He was all too familiar with Victoriana's tactical style.
Once those lunatics used artillery for fire suppression, what followed was their pride and joy: the "Iron Cavalry Charge."
Those noble lords, driving chas with bright paint and family crests, their nas always including a "von," would pilot elite chas with performance far exceeding Usar's junk. They would slice through the defense lines like a knife through butter and then penetrate deep at high speed.
Following infantry units would quickly move in, isolating and surrounding the scattered Usar defenders, and finally slaughtering them slowly like pigs.
In other words, not only was he about to find himself behind enemy lines, but he was also about to run head-on into Victoriana's most elite ch Knights Corps.
Pavel glanced at the black one-handed sword, locked away behind layers of restraints.
What should he do?
Should he continue?
Pavel hesitated for only a second.
To be precise, 0.8 seconds.
Because he knew very well that facing the Royal Knights of Victoriana with a piece-of-junk gun that could only scare people ant a survival rate of zero.
But with sothing in his hands that could smash their turtle shells, that damn survival rate might beco thirty percent, or even twenty.
"Ha..."
A distorted, helpless sigh ca from the cha's loudspeaker.
"Whichever bastard ordered the shelling, I hope you wet the bed tonight."
Pavel was no longer being careful.
The "thug-iv's" crude chanical arms stopped trying to undo the complex locks and instead directly grabbed the core brass valve of the restraint system. With the roar of an overloaded engine, he violently pulled outward.
"Get... out!!"
With a tooth-grinding screech of tearing tal, the black one-handed sword was forcibly ripped from the complex restraint system.
Snapped copper pipes sprayed scalding steam and hydraulic oil, splashing onto the thug-iv's rusted armor.
At the exact mont Pavel pulled out the sword—
BOOM!!!
A shell accurately struck the roof of the warehouse.
This ti, there was no barrier, no buffer.
The ceiling collapsed instantly, massive chunks of concrete and rebar falling like teors.
The entire world shook violently amidst the flas, as if the apocalypse had arrived.
...
--【Warning: High-risk ntal Pollution is spreading rapidly】--
--【Current Progress: 67%】--
--【Warning: host vital signs are abnormal】--
--【Forceful intervention in progress】--
--【Ergency Protocol initiating...】--
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