Mad Hunter: Road of Fury (2)
Of course, the longer time dragged on, the more the ammo for the armored vehicle's turret machine gun and grenade launcher ran dry. And with all the spectacular explosions and lightning-fried sizzles blasting like mad during the fight...
-Screeech!
-Screeech!
-Kieeeek!
"Warhog riders! Orc heavy-armor pursuit squad!"
"What the fuck's that?"
"They're the upgraded version of the pursuit squads that were chasing us before. Firepower's awesome."
"Looks like all the nearby pursuit squads are gunning straight for us now, probably 'cause we fought so flashy."
Not quite as tough as our armored vehicle, which was plated thick enough to shrug off heavy machine guns and even autocannons. But still, these were massive beasts—warhogs over 8 meters long, heavyweight class among armored rides, half the size of a Straight-class APC at least.
And strapped to the backs of those warhogs weren't just saddles—what the hell do you even call 'em?
-Thud thud thud thud thud!
"No way that's a 'warthog' by any stretch."
"It's the pinnacle of orc-engineered warthog bio-evolution. Basically a living machine."
"Ugh, makes me gag every time."
"Watch out, those fortress saddles on the warhogs have at least 3~4 goblin crossbowmen hunkered down."
"...So I'm not the only one seeing it as a fortress, huh."
Literal tiny wooden castles plopped right on their backs. And right as Alex said that, goblins peeking from the fortress slits fired crossbows that nailed our already-empty autocannon, smashing parts to bits. Made me think, how the hell are these medieval fantasy orcs?
And with those monstrosities swarming in, the orc cavalry numbers around us had ballooned to hundreds easy.
-Sizzle!
Whoosh!
-Screeeeech!
"That's all the emergency scrolls used up!"
"Arrows are all gone too!"
"Firepower's awesome—what's the play?"
"Hmm, grab one each. See these firing ports in the walls? Shove a gun in and spray."
I summoned the machine guns I'd been too lazy to pull out—ones that needed manual reloading—and handed one to each party member. Told 'em to jam the barrels through the ports and hose down the outside.
Obviously, with the caliber of those pursuing orcs, anything under 7.62mm—like light MGs or assault rifles—was just for suppression, nothing more.
"Whoa? Ohhh, this thing's..."
"Like the one from before? Feels heavy!"
"Whoa, kinda heavy for me even..."
"Mount it in the port—the vehicle's chassis'll handle the weight. Just aim straight."
"Ooh!"
I'd given 'em heavy machine guns spitting 12.7mm+ rounds like rain— including the old 15mm Vladimir. Seeing the beefier designs than the 12th floor ones boosted their morale. They took left, right, and rear, blasting away enthusiastically at the orc pursuit trying to halt us.
And suddenly, machine gun fire—dozens of rounds per second—erupted from the new ports. The orcs, going all-out with tusk charges or diving from saddles to board us, got shredded by unexpected hails from inside. They hadn't seen it coming.
-Kwooooong!
-Crash, boom!
"Ooh!"
"Hahaha, this is insane!"
"...Kinda getting hooked on this."
Even the massive warthog-castle-beasts got sideswiped, their muscle turning to ragged tatters—no, penetrated clean through. Leather ripped, guts spilled, and they collapsed. Goblins and orcs on the saddles flew off the sudden stop, smashing into the ground, limbs snapping.
This wasn't a game—it was real. Those downed warhog corpses became instant obstacles for the pursuit pack.
For a split second, enemies around us got swept away or forced back. Perfect opening.
Which meant time for my counter. I unequipped the ammo-less 30mm turret, stowing it inside...
Time to swap to a different APC inside me—not the one I was riding. Just like the wild test at the Hunter Management Bureau, any fixed gear on a mounted vehicle could be freely deployed from my body.
So the 30mm autocannon and 12.7mm HMG from the Black Bear Heavy APC's turret popped out where I wanted. Plus the twin anti-tank missile launchers, rising and aiming at the enemy.
The orc pursuit spotted me atop the vehicle and freaked—trampling dead warhogs and comrades, even tumbling over themselves. They surged closer anyway, unleashing every ranged attack: crossbows, shaman spells, rock throws.
But no matter how badass, they were still living flesh. Sure, shaman buffs let rats and warhogs chase our max-speed APC with boosted speed and stamina. But guaranteeing aim while riding? Impossible.
-Ting! Ting! Tang! Whizz!
"Nice try."
Most missed wide. The few that hit bounced off the bulletproof plates—or rather, the shrapnel screens that barely qualified.
I smirked, raised both arms, and targeted two massive warhogs splitting left and right.
"Bang!"
-Fwoosh! Fwooooosh... BOOM!
"Ooh."
Fired one missile each, vaporizing their heads.
Then whipped out the autocannon and HMG barrels, spraying.
Obviously, warhogs and buddies hit by tank-killer missiles—designed for shit 3~4x their size—weren't walking away. Heads didn't just blow; upper bodies bloomed like flowers. Nearby orcs got shredded by shrapnel, warhog chunks, orc+goblin meat, and bone rain.
"Kiyaaaaak!!"
"Screeech!"
"Scree... kyak!"
-Thud!
-Crunch!
-Crack!
"Ooh, crit luck."
My 30mm shells and 12.7mm rounds synced perfectly in the chaos. In under 10 seconds, dozens of pursuers near us turned to bloody mulch.
"Screech, screeech!"
"Screeeeech!"
"Firepower's awesome—they're pulling back!"
"We won!"
"Ooh."
A fancier-dressed orc—probably the leader—bellowed across the field. The circling pursuit scattered, fleeing full retreat. The long chase was finally over.