Orc Tyrant

Viken rushed into the flames, crushing the stone into powder with heavy steps.

His weapon was singing, the shock wave from the blast of ammunition hit him, and the world disappeared in the scream of fire and fragments.

The small shield carried by the mecha hissed, turning those fragments into flames and dust.

Scrap iron can taste the desire for his weapon to burn, he can feel the death of metal, and the sound of shrapnel.

He is burning and drowning in steel.

He was... along the hillside toward the shock wave that spread when the enemy's artillery position was destroyed.

Number Two is running beside him, and a roar with the sound of water emerges from his vocal unit. The longer he stays in the mech, the worse Wiken finds his memory, he has already remembered

The names of the comrades are unclear, only those numbers are left--

The remaining members of the Scrap Gang have accelerated their maneuvers toward the bottom of the valley. Each of them has its own attack plan and targets with different priorities.

The accompanying three dirty tanks were already firing. The shells turned the last direct shot into screaming flashes and shattered metal. The kid with the small rocket was constantly changing positions on the heights.

Set, they will be ready to shoot again within six seconds.

The terrain of the canyon limits the power of large-scale armored assaults, and even the number advantage has become less obvious. At this time, the flexibility of the scrap metal mechas is reflected.

As spearheads, we are thrown into the fiercest battle.

This is not only because they are easy to use, but also because of the imperfect technology. More and more scrap-iron mechas have shown signs of losing control.

The amount of fixed dose has doubled.

Instead of allowing them to self-destruct when they are out of control, it is better to give them a more appropriate death.

"go ahead."

On the front of Viken, the enemy's anti-tank squad is also adjusting its posture.

boom!

An armor-piercing bullet hit the rock at his feet, and the rock fragments hit his shield, turning into powder in the flash.

Dust rustled on his skin, and he saw a long cannon tube turning towards him—

It seems to promise an end, a chance to rest in peace, and forever leave steel.

But it will never have a chance to fire.

Viken hid to the side, raised his arms, and opened his paws.

The anti-tank position was thirty paces away, and the barrel of the cannon was a black circle in his eyes.

In the next second, two white-hot jets leaped out of his hand, and the barrel of the cannon melted as it fired. The explosion opened the surrounding sandbags and evaporated several soldiers operating the artillery.

Viken rushed straight to the wreckage, after which the other two cannons were turning, searching for the target.

Human anti-tank positions are deployed in accordance with three doors and one position. Twelve anti-tank gun positions are scattered on this front, covering almost the entire front line.

They were very concealed at first, and only fired when the armored vanguard was within 100 meters, and they destroyed the double-digit armor in one fell swoop.

The air was filled with the roar of artillery fire, and the flames rose into the sky, as if to blacken the clouds above.

At this time, a light reconnaissance tank came out from behind the remains of the artillery position. Humans have never lacked learning ability. After seeing the armored vehicles used on a large scale by Ouke, humans also began to imitate them, but the Benedict Empire was limited to the industrial level. Limited, it is impossible to produce land warfare equipment that can match Ouke’s super-heavy armor, and can only switch to manufacturing light armor for reconnaissance.

But at this critical moment, even the armor of the reconnaissance must be on the top of the battlefield.

It is fast, and the reaction speed of its human driver has exceeded Viking's expectations.

That is a mistake.

Wiken raised his "hand", the energy gathered in his palm, and in his steel cocoon, he felt the heat surge to his nerves.

It feels incredible, it feels like it's coming alive again.

But No. 2 hit the reconnaissance vehicle just before Viken fired, screaming through the claws and breaking the armor plate, and at the same time pushing the tank aside. Its tracks were lifted from the wheels as it plowed through the dirt and stones. Fall off.

Then it hit a boulder, and number two appeared behind it a moment later, the sharp teeth of the piercing claws flashing under the trembling red light.

The Ouke mecha slammed its claws downwards.

Fragmented metal spouted out, the armor of the car body was torn apart, and Viken saw a figure in a gray costume struggling inside the open car body.

In a blink of an eye, the deadly high temperature found a weakness in that suit, and the figure trembled as the flesh turned into mud.

Number Two leaned into the wreck, his claws clenched tightly.

The next second, a ball of flame swept Fearless, but Number Two straightened up and threw the burning wreck into the air.

Viken heard his companion's roar in the microphone and the air.

Afterwards, he realized that he was also shouting and running, his machine body was as fluid as his own flesh, as if it was being driven by a desire he had not realized before, a desire to live again, alive and burning Desire.

He killed the next reconnaissance tank with both hands, it tried to turn, the tracks stirred the rock fragments.

He hit its side, clamped the rotating track with one hand and pulled it back.

A broken track flew towards his back in an arc, the tank twisted, and the still moving track on the other side made it spin in place. When the body of the machine hit him, Viken shook stand up.

"Waaaagh!!!"

He slammed down, just behind a side cannon turret.

The welded seam broke, Viken grabbed the body and fired his flame weapon, the molten armor penetrated into the heart of the machine, and then came out on the other side.

In his iron coffin, Viken felt that he smelled burnt flesh and blood. He stepped back, the wreckage gradually stopped, and flames were spewing out from behind it, like a bright feather crest.

He stood and looked at the dead machine for a moment.

The battlefield seemed almost silent, and the sound of the explosion had become low, like the sound of the tide in the distance.

He knew the location of each of his machines, but everything seemed very far away, as if something had just been disconnected from his consciousness.

On his left, the dirty car tank trio was moving in an irregular formation calmly on the **** below, and the light of the machine gun muzzle flickered on the side of their car.

The Rocket Boys are switching shooting positions again, hiding behind the cover of fire and smoke. They have already cut the enemy into two sections under severe loss, and the battle is unfolding in a basically acceptable way.

Human resistance is fierce, very cunning, and limited to this.

Except for something wrong, something that doesn't matter whether they can survive this battle or not.

Something was calling him, something that was in him, something that might have been there all the time.

Get the hair out.

He can feel its grasp, attracting him with unremitting power.

With his own power, it feels like the air he wants when drowning, it feels like life.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! ! !

More intense roars sounded from the horizon, and the terrain of the canyon made all sounds chaotic.

And he wants to release, he wants to make it come true, he wants to feel life again, he wants to become more than a corpse in steel.

He felt his limbs start to move.