The morning in the Northern Wasteland was greeted by leaden clouds hanging oppressively low. Yet, across this silent, dead expanse, a new sound echoed—a rhythmic, ear-grating screech of metal on stone.
It was the sound of treads crushing the earth.
Su Zhe stood atop a derelict mineral sorting tower, the biting wind whipping his cloak over his tactical vest. Beneath him, three steel monsters painted in rugged camouflage spat thick black smoke, looking like prehistoric beasts that didn't belong to this world.
[T-54/55 Main Battle Tank (Wasteland Simplified Variant)]
This was no high-tech sci-fi weapon. It was pure, rusted, oil-soaked industrial violence. It featured a low-profile, turtle-shell cast turret, a stout 100mm rifled main gun, and five pairs of road wheels trembling under the roar of a diesel engine.
"Beautiful," Su Zhe whispered to himself.
[System Sarcasm: Host, if your definition of 'beauty' is fifty tons of scrap metal and a diesel engine loud enough to rupture internal organs, I suggest an ear exam after the war. A friendly reminder: to scrape together these three 'Five Pairs of Road Wheels,' you didn't just blow all your earned points—you've also spent your 'Survivor's Allowance' for the next three months. You are now officially poorer than these refugees.]
"Points are fluid, but armor thickness is eternal." Su Zhe pulled down his visor. On his retinal HUD, three green pips advanced slowly. "God-Slayer Regiment 1, report status."
"Com... Commander!" Old Crip's voice crackled through the comms, trembling but ecstatic. He was currently the tank commander of 'God-Slayer One.' "Power unit normal! The boys are saying sitting in this tin can feels safer than being in a cathedral cellar!"
"Good," Su Zhe's eyes turned cold. "Target, five kilometers ahead. The Holy Kingdom's bounty is in effect. Let's be polite—prepare the heaviest gifts we have."
Five kilometers away, the air began to ripple with an eerie, distorted shimmer.
This was the "Eye of Oracle"—the Holy Kingdom's most mysterious elite unit, the Inquisitors. There were only twelve of them, clad in translucent crystalline armor, with massive eyeballs forged of pure spiritual energy floating behind their backs. In the Holy Creed, they were the "Vision of God." Wherever they walked, false gods and heretics would spontaneously combust.
"Unidentified metallic signatures detected ahead. Extremely high density." Grand Inquisitor Julius stopped in his tracks, the spiritual eye behind him flickering with a restless red light. "No life signals, but intense combustion reactions. Are those... some kind of constructs?"
"Grand Inquisitor, that noise..." one subordinate pointed toward the horizon.
On the horizon, three plumes of black smoke rose like dragons. Then, three black dots expanded rapidly.
"No matter what they are, they are but dust before the Holy Light." Julius snorted coldly, his right hand snapping down. "God's Judgment—Heavenly Fire!"
The twelve Inquisitors raised their hands simultaneously. The clouds above were forcibly torn asunder as twelve golden pillars of light, each several meters wide, crashed down with apocalyptic heat, pinpointing the three advancing tanks.
BOOM—!
The pillars struck the earth, instantly flash-melting the sand and stone within a hundred-meter radius into molten glass.
"It is finished," Julius said impassively, turning to leave.
But in the next second, his footsteps froze.
From within the boiling steam and the glowing craters of glass, the three steel behemoths charged out unscathed. Their cast-iron armor glowed a dull cherry red from the heat, hissing with white steam, but their long muzzles were already swivelling, locking onto Julius's face with the mechanical whine of electric motors.
[System Sarcasm: Physics Lesson 101—Even magical light has its limits against the melting point and thermal conductivity of mass-produced Soviet steel. Their spiritual artillery was spectacular, but for these old tanks, it was basically just a hot shower. Host, time to return the favor.]
"100mm High-Explosive shells. Three-round burst. FIRE!" Su Zhe roared into the channel.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
The sound was a deafening crack that threatened to rupture eardrums. Three orange streaks of fire spat from the muzzles, the massive recoil rocking the fifty-ton tanks as the treads plowed deep furrows into the ground.
Julius felt the greatest fear of his life. This wasn't a clash of spiritual energies; it was the absolute limit of velocity and mass. The scream of the shells tearing through the atmosphere was heavier than any thunder.
"Defense! Ultimate Sacred Barrier!"
The twelve Inquisitors frantically funneled their entire spiritual reserves into the barrier. A meter-thick wall of translucent crystal rose before them.
The first shell impacted. The barrier shook violently, golden runes shattering instantly.
The second shell impacted. Terrifying cracks spider-webbed across the crystal wall. One Inquisitor collapsed, vomiting blood from the spiritual backlash.
The third shell impacted.
CRASH!
The barrier shattered like cheap glass. The HE shells detonated in the center of the Inquisitor formation. Metal fragments and shockwaves turned these high-and-mighty transcendents into ragdolls in an instant. Three members were shredded on the spot. Julius was hurled dozens of meters by the blast wave, slamming hard into a jagged rock.
His proud crystalline armor was as thin as paper against steel shrapnel.
"This... this is impossible..." Julius struggled to look up, his face covered in blood. He watched as the three tanks continued their slow, resolute advance. The sound of treads grinding over the bones of his comrades sounded like the death knell of theocracy.
"Nothing is impossible."
Su Zhe's figure appeared silently above Julius. He had activated his exoskeleton's "Stealth-Flow" mode, carrying a prototype electromagnetic rail-rifle on his back, looking like a reaper in the dark.
"You spent thousands of years researching spiritual energy, but you forgot to research how to stop an iron ball traveling at two thousand kilometers per hour." Su Zhe looked down at him coldly. "Grand Inquisitor Julius, welcome to the Industrial Age."
[Ding! 9 elite 'Eye of Oracle' members killed, 3 heavily wounded. Points earned: 80,000.]
[Achievement Unlocked: [Wings of Steel] – Complete your first armored engagement.]
"Eighty thousand points..." Su Zhe surveyed the carnage but did not relax. "System, the Pope's Palace should be able to feel the annihilation of this squad by now, right?"
[System Sarcasm: Feel it? If you listen closely, the alarm bells in the Cathedral are probably loud enough to wake the dead. Grand Inquisitor Julius is the Pope's prize pupil. You didn't just slap them in the face; you ripped out their front teeth.]
"Then let's not waste time." Su Zhe walked toward the surviving Inquisitors, who were huddled in the shadow of the tanks, their holy eyes now filled only with the despair of facing unknown technology.
"Old Crip, take these 'priests' back. Lock them in the deepest level of the mine," Su Zhe ordered. "I need the spiritual flow maps in their brains. That's the foundation for our next generation of 'Spirit-Enhanced Long-Range Munitions.']"
"Yes, Commander!" Old Crip popped his head out of the hatch, clutching his black rifle and grinning like a farmer during a bumper harvest.
Su Zhe turned toward the North. Deep in the mist-shrouded polar regions, the Holy Kingdom's highest-level spiritual signal towers were faintly flickering.
"System, do I have enough for that yet?"
[System Sarcasm: You mean the 'DF-21D Medium-Range Ballistic Missile (Integrated Launcher Variant)'? Host, your ambition is expanding faster than the Big Bang. While eighty thousand points is enough for the blueprints, you need to upgrade your wasteland factory to a 'Tier 3 Military-Industrial Complex' first. Otherwise, the missile you build might not even clear the launchpad.]
"Then upgrade it," Su Zhe replied flatly. "If a 100mm shell won't wake them up, I'll use a delivery via nuclear warhead to knock on the Pope's front door."
That night, the Northern Wasteland was no longer silent.
Thousands of refugees crawled out of their burrows. They watched the three triumphant tanks return; they watched the Inquisitors, who had once treated them like insects, being dragged away like stray dogs.
Su Zhe stood on the tank's turret, holding the Inquisitor medal he had ripped from Julius's chest. He crushed it into dust with his mechanical hand.
"From this day forth, the Wasteland needs no gods!"
Su Zhe's voice carried across the wilderness, amplified by the roar of the generators:
"We have iron for bones and gunpowder for blood! If God blocks my path, I shall slay God! If the Heavens press down on me, I shall blast them open with railguns!"
[System Sarcasm: Tsk tsk. I'll give that speech a 9/10. I'm deducting one point so you don't get cocky enough to solo the Pope. But... Host, look behind you.]
Su Zhe spun around. On the distant horizon, a massive, golden, illusory pupil was slowly opening. This wasn't spiritual energy—this was a "Rule" power that transcended dimensions.
"Oracle-class... A True God's descent?" Su Zhe narrowed his eyes, his finger hovering over the activation key of the railgun.
"Perfect. I was just a few points short of that missile."