Starting from the Planetary Governor

Aéro Lacroix felt that the war had changed its nature.

Or rather, this was what war truly was, and what had passed were just minor skirmishes.

He was born into a wandering Survivor Tribe, where staying meant struggling to survive, so under the lead of a senior, he and a dozen other youths left the tribe and followed a merchant to Rubbish Town, where they joined an adventure group.

To call it an adventure group was actually a stretch—they were armed garbage collectors. After getting a dozen guns on credit from the merchant, they began their scavenging life.

Not daring to venture too far, they scavenged in the safe zones just outside Rubbish Town, looking for metal scraps and picking up radiant stones to make it through the day. They'd then trade their haul for food back in town.

Their daily earnings went to buying food and paying off a bit of their firearm loans, leaving nothing left over.

And if they ever encountered a fight, like with the mutated monsters occasionally found in the city ruins, they had to be conservative with their ammo since bullets were expensive.

That period of his life was devoid of hope, of a future. But he didn't find it particularly sad; having food to eat was good enough. For a long time in the past, he didn't even know what it felt like to be full.

He and his companions spent two years drifting through Rubbish Town. Just when he thought he'd end up scraping by for the rest of his life until he could no longer work, he encountered the Green Skins.

Out of the several companions from his hometown, only six survived. The rest, including the senior who had led them out, were all killed by the Green Skins.

If it had been just casualties, that would have been one thing, but the way his companions died was too horrific. The Green Skins devoured and skinned people alive in front of them, cracking open skulls to eat the brains.

He wanted to retrieve the bodies but didn't dare, so he was pulled back by others as they fled.

Among the survivors, some completely gave up the life of scavengers and adventurers because of that incident. But he and two other brothers could never forget that scene.

After hearing about the Beast Slaughter Group, they joined it.

It was shameful to admit that even though they joined with the intent to take revenge on the Green Skins, after four months in the group, only he survived, and he had personally killed only one Green Skin.

When they went looking for trouble with the Green Skins, they could only try to find very small targets, no more than two or three together. But even then, they needed to assemble a force of thirty to fifty people before they dared to make a move.

Using iron pipe rifles when exchanging fire with those Green Skins offered no advantage; they had roughly the same range but far less power, and humans unlike the Green Skins couldn't endure many bullets. So, people in the Beast Slaughter Group had to think of other methods.

They modified their firearms, increased the caliber, and added more powder. Although this severely decreased the reliability of their guns, it definitely increased the power of the bullets; they equipped themselves with large knives and long spears, so when the Green Skins got close, they had handy weapons to fight back.

In the time it took for one Green Skin to rip through three or four people, six or seven spears could be plunged into its body.

Everyone said that the Beast Slaughter Group had special methods for fighting the Green Skins, but to Lacroix, what special methods were there? It was nothing but stronger courage, a deep-rooted hatred, and a reckless willingness to outnumber and sacrifice many lives just to kill two or three Green Skins.

It was just like that.

But now, it was different.

Earlier, when the leader asked if he wanted to accept reorganisation, he thought it was simple: better treatment than before, better equipment, and still able to fight the Green Skins. What's not to like?

But what he didn't expect was that after accepting the reorganisation, the entire way of waging war had changed.

After resting in the barracks for a few days and undergoing a round of training under the governor's watchful eyes, he felt like he suddenly understood a lot more.

Shooting posture, military skills, constructing fortifications, squad coordination, armored support, artillery support...

Those days were miraculous. His mind suddenly cleared up, and he immediately understood any principle he was told, and any skill he practiced.

Arriving at the front again, he was led by the team... oh, now it was the squad leader.

Under the squad leader's command, their ten-man group constructed two fire points. They were made from the common rubble and broken bricks of the ruins, located on a small slope to create a high-ground firing position.

And such fire points were scattered at intervals, built by other comrades in the same company, ensuring crossfire could be exchanged between points and providing smooth mutual support.

This knowledge was newly acquired. Before, they could only rely on experience and guesswork, lacking such efficient construction of positions.

And these positions soon proved their worth.

A group of about a dozen Green Skins, taking advantage of the night, stealthily approached, and they were already near one of the fortifications when the sentry spotted them.

The sounds of gunfire woke everyone, and the few soldiers stationed there began resisting fiercely. Brothers from the neighboring point who could provide fire support also immediately opened fire. The machine guns and rifles blended into a chorus of shots.

Two or three Green Skins were killed on the spot by the dense gunfire.

The small group then retreated while firing, losing three people, allowing the Green Skins to conquer the position; but then, reinforcements came, launching two rockets into it.

After firing, seven or eight men charged in together, bayonets fitted, and started fighting the remaining Green Skins hand-to-hand.

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