A flash of white light, and the players who had just been sent back to the rear command node by their own people reassembled, grumbling.
"Damn it, didn't they say that after the fire control system evolved, the cannons would hit whatever they aimed at?"
"Exactly, how did they hit us again? Are those bastards from Fourth Squad messing with us?"
"Forget it, we'll settle accounts with them later. Now that the position is taken, let's kill the genestealers first!" A player waved his hand, appearing quite pragmatic.
Everyone agreed; now was not the time for infighting. They reorganized their team and charged back into the first line of defense.
Fortunately, the genestealers entrenched there had also been sent flying by the indiscriminate shelling just now. The first line of defense was empty, and the players successfully reoccupied it.
Just as they were preparing to use the position to advance forward, the roar of artillery fire once again came from overhead.
All the players subconsciously tensed up, ducking their heads into the newly occupied trenches. However, this time the shells did not land on them but, about a hundred meters away, accurately fell into the second genestealers position, erupting in continuous flames and smoke.
"Phew, good thing. It didn't land on us this time."
"If it landed on us again, I'd have to suspect they were doing it on purpose."
"Guys flying the Wyvern later, remember, mortars don't hit the target immediately after firing; shells need time to travel. You must factor that time in!"
Meanwhile, in the command post deep inside the factory, Kael watched his planned temporary positions crumble in a sea of fire through the monitor, similarly plunged into deep confusion.
The reason for his confusion was simple: where did these Astra Militarum get so many shells?
From the players' perspective, shells were expensive. A single salvo of four shells from a Wyvern cost 120 merit points, requiring them to blow up about 200 ordinary cultists or 40 tough genestealers just to break even.
But from the perspective of "natives" like Kael, shells were not merely "expensive"; they were an industrial miracle.
To consistently produce shells required a vast and complete industrial system as support. This included departments for raw material exploration, mining, and transportation; thousands of skilled workers capable of operating precision machine tools; and even more, excellent technical personnel who could design trajectories and formulate gunpowder. This was a massive chain where one link affected the whole.
Even if the Imperium had Tech-Priests who could craft anything by hand, or those foolproof STC standard manufacturing templates, they would still need the most basic raw materials, wouldn't they?
Looking at the entire Perditia, after several major wars and a long period of blockade, which remnants of Imperial forces still had the capacity for large-scale raw material extraction and transportation? Let alone maintaining a complete military industrial system!
However, confusion aside, reality would not change because of Kael's incomprehension. The players' Wyvern suppressors continued to roar tirelessly from the rear positions, and round after round of artillery fire systematically and efficiently destroyed Kael's supposedly impregnable positions.
Seeing the second position quickly collapse under the Corpse Emperor's followers' repeated tactic of "artillery bombardment, infantry charge," Kael finally made up his mind.
"All retreat," his voice was cold and decisive, "fall back into the factory and prepare for urban warfare."
The pureblood genestealer beside him hissed in surprise: "Sir, this... our defenses..."
"Obey orders." Kael simply interrupted it coldly.
Facing such unreasonable firepower projection, any temporarily constructed, non-permanent defensive fortifications were merely live targets. Their cult had no ability to counter artillery fire and had to drag the enemy into their only advantageous terrain.
The players quickly realized this. When they charged through the second position, which had been thoroughly plowed by artillery fire, they expected to encounter more intense resistance. Instead, they found the third line of defense empty, devoid of any enemies. Only a few reckless players triggered enemy-placed landmines.
Realizing the situation was unusual, Robert immediately ordered via walkie-talkie: "Fourth Squad, cease fire! Frontline players, immediately conduct reconnaissance!"
Several players immediately took off their weapons and equipment, advancing lightly to scout. They cautiously moved forward along the trenches and soon brought back results—subsequent positions were all the same; apart from a few cleverly disguised traps and still-operating automated turrets, there were no genestealers.
"What's going on? How did all the enemies disappear?" The player who had finished scouting returned to the team and informed the other players. Mua'dib asked, looking bewildered, "Did the game glitch?"
"No," Robert shook his head. Through frontline reports and his own judgment, he had seen everything clearly, "The enemy is actively retreating; they have abandoned their positions."
"Why?" Clearly, when someone else was thinking, other players did not prioritize using their own brains.
"Perhaps they realized they couldn't counter our artillery coverage," Robert speculated, "If we hadn't used artillery coverage and had just charged with infantry, they likely wouldn't have abandoned their positions."
"Are the NPCs in this game so smart?" A newly joined player asked in surprise, as in most games, NPCs were rigid.
"Without exaggeration, the NPCs in this game are among the smartest I've ever seen," Robert stated with certainty, a hint of emotion in his tone.
"I think this is a good thing; we won't have to use artillery anymore!" Mua'dib immediately said, his face etched with pain. "Artillery shells consume merit points too quickly. We've spent over two thousand merit points in such a short time. You might not feel the pinch, but it hurts me just to watch."
"But artillery coverage also made our advance very fast, and the enemy's effective strength was greatly depleted in the process. They can't revive like us," Robert said noncommittally.
"Now the enemy has changed their combat method. They've retreated into that factory, where artillery won't be effective. We can only change our approach and engage them in high-attrition urban warfare."
"It's foreseeable that casualties will be much higher afterward," Robert stroked his chin, a glint flashing in his eyes. "But for us, that's the least important thing... Heh heh, the high intelligence of the enemies in this game might even make it easier for us to complete the mission."