With a command from the pureblood genestealer, the genestealers and Aberrants, who were still struggling in the flames and thick smoke, suddenly surged out from all directions, from broken floorboards, from cracks in the walls, and even from ventilation ducts, as if injected with a stimulant.
They no longer cared about the scorching flames or the suffocating smoke. Their crimson compound eyes were locked onto the Astra Militarum soldier spewing fire. For a moment, the entire back half of the area seemed to come alive, with countless twisted figures, roaring and screaming, swarming towards the players like a tide.
The players' firepower was momentarily unable to hold them back. No matter how much energy the laser guns had, or how fast the machetes were swung, facing this seemingly endless "human wave tactic" made them feel stretched thin. After all, although they could revive infinitely, their player count was still capped at no more than thirty.
If these genestealers had stuck to the idea of a conventional war and slowly wore them down, they would surely have been annihilated in the end.
Of course, when the pureblood genestealer saw the flamethrower soldier appear, it immediately changed its tactical plan, deciding to throw everything it had at them and eliminate him at all costs. Naturally, the players also had a way to deal with such an all-out assault.
In this prolonged urban warfare, the players, who had died more than a dozen times on average, had been forced to learn to communicate through eye contact and gestures. After all, in such a chaotic and dangerous environment, speaking to convey information was not only too slow but also very likely to alert the enemy, often resulting in being cut to pieces by a surprise attack from the genestealers.
Joker, who was at the very front, merely patted his waist. This simple and subtle movement was immediately understood by the other players. They understood his meaning and began to retreat gradually, orderly withdrawing towards the central reception hall.
"Huh? Huh, huh, huh?!"
At this, Pyro panicked. His heavy Promethium Flamethrower suit made it difficult to move nimbly during a retreat. He continued to spray flames while anxiously shouting, "Why are you guys retreating? Cover me!"
Before he could finish, he felt a cold, heavy object pressed against his waist. Joker had silently appeared beside him at some point, and with a mischievous smile, he patted his shoulder and said casually, "Don't worry, man, your Promethium will definitely get the most kills when it explodes."
Pyro's mind raced, and he instantly understood. He looked down at his waist, where a melta bomb was clearly attached! This meant that seeing the enemies swarming them, they planned to directly blow up the building with melta bombs, and he, in turn, had become the fuse for this bomb!
In fact, the building's structure was not very sturdy; just four or five melta bombs placed on the load-bearing walls of the central reception hall would directly cause the entire building to collapse. This cost was even affordable for a single player if he gritted his teeth and bought them from the shop.
The reason this method hadn't been used before was simple. Firstly, if one person blew up the building and eliminated most of the genestealers, then he would earn most of the exp , while other players affected by the explosion would have their equipment destroyed by the melta bombs and would have to buy new ones. This kind of selfish action would definitely cause strong dissatisfaction among other players. The collective restriction meant no individual would do such a thing.
Secondly, many players still wanted to experience the urban combat of this new map. If they blew up the map right away, what would they play? The purpose of the game, after all, was for experience and fun.
Now, however, the situation was completely different. The enemies had been lured in and gathered, and the urban combat experience was complete; it was time to end this battle. Since that was the case, why not make it quick? Each person buys a melta bomb and sends all the genestealers to heaven!
And Pyro, who seemed to have been "mercilessly" abandoned by the players, would actually be the one to earn the most exp. Because, clearly, this full-scale assault by the genestealers was for him, and the Promethium in his flamethrower would greatly increase the power of his self-detonation, ensuring a high kill count.
This was also a tacit compensation from the other players, as his flamethrower suit was very expensive, and now, it was clearly going to be sacrificed.
For unrestrained players, the choices they faced were either to cooperate and share benefits fairly, or to resort to all means to snatch exp, leading to a prisoner's dilemma-style game. Clearly, they chose the former and began to consciously maintain it.
The detonation of the melta bombs had no warning; there was only a blinding white light followed by a deafening roar! More than twenty melta bombs were clearly overkill for this residential area.
The entire area was instantly engulfed in a blazing inferno. The shockwave spread in all directions with overwhelming force, leveling all obstacles. Metal beams were instantly vaporized, walls collapsed like paper, and the entire building, trembling, disintegrated in a sickeningly twisted manner.
The power generated by its collapse and explosion was unparalleled, enough to destroy any life.
But this was irrelevant to the players; it was just another respawn.
With a flash of light at the respawn point, the players stood up one by one, ignoring the dust on their bodies, and immediately opened their system logs.
"Holy cow," a revived player exclaimed genuinely, looking at his system log flooded with kill notifications, "I earned over eight hundred exp from that blast!"
"That's about right, they're all dead," Joker mused, looking at the chaotic, smoke-billowing ruins before him. "This residential area could fit a few thousand genestealers at most. But generally, with so many genestealers, there should be a pureblood commanding them!"
"I didn't see a pureblood kill notification."
"Me neither."
"I don't have one either."
"Then the pureblood is still alive!" Realizing this, the players immediately became excited, completely ignoring the residual high temperatures and choking smoke in the ruins, and rushed directly into the collapsed residential area. For them, a living pureblood genestealer meant immense exp and a potential "first kill" reward.
Among the building's wreckage, the players quickly found the pureblood. Its massive body was wedged between a pile of twisted plas-steel and broken metal. Although most of the ceiling had collapsed, a few barely supporting pillars remained in areas far from the explosion's core.
The pureblood genestealer's lower half hung in the air, while its upper half was firmly trapped above, unable to move. Clearly, its spine was broken, and even struggling was extremely difficult.
"Holy cow, Anderson!"
"Kill it!"
"Guys at the front, don't be too hasty, let me kick it a few times, we'll earn exp together!"
Listening to these mocking and greedy voices, the pureblood genestealer, still barely conscious, felt immense shame. It used its last ounce of strength to make a ferocious expression, and a low growl rumbled in its throat:
"Roar…"
Before the roar could fully escape, its head was kicked askew by a player who rushed up.
"Oh my, still daring to hiss like that?" The player added a few more kicks.
"Now we have no choice but to mercilessly love the genestealers with chainswords."
"You guys are too cruel; I originally wanted to adopt it."
"It's not dead yet," someone reminded.
"Then forget it."