Dozens of artillerymen were preparing the mortars, piles of the new munitions lying around by the hundreds. Rather than the duds they used for training, these were simply normal shells, modified to have lower yields, just enough to not heavily wound the cultivator they were facing. This would, of course, tax the old stockpile, but with new and improved versions being rolled out in the near future, this was the perfect moment to use them and maximize what they got in return.
It wasn't often that cultivators would participate in battle simulations, every few months a regiment would be lucky enough to face threats seemingly supernatural, to stress their weapons and strategies against an unbreakable wall. Yet, there were always a few more of them, as they weren't strong enough individually to take on an entire regiment of artillery and infantrymen. This time, however, they were facing a single individual. It wasn't a second or third step, thank the Emperor, but the simple fact that they trusted this one individual's power enough to send him alone? None of the soldiers present had any doubts, they were about to face a monster.
Vekatu was doubting his intelligence at this very moment. His intention when volunteering for a battle simulation was to put his body to the test, see exactly how much stronger than the average first step cultivator his heaven body made him, and perhaps gain an epiphany through hardship.
But now, sitting in a meditative position on the grass field, as he watched the sky get darkened by the volleys of shells rising from beyond the hills? Maybe he had made a mistake.
He was in no hurry, deciding to wait until the shells were halfway in their path before starting. That proved to be a wrong move.
He thought that he had managed to track each projectile, the black outside of the shells clearly visible on the gray sky, but out of nowhere, an explosion occurred a mere meter to his right, throwing him a few meters away, skidding on the ground. He was mostly fine, with the exception of his tattered sleeves. If the shells hadn't been modified before this, he would have been full of shrapnel, but his body was more than strong enough to sustain this level of punishment.
Scanning the surroundings, tracking each shell and explosion, Vekatu instantly noticed the problem: there were more explosions than shells. That could only mean one thing, that they painted a few of the shells grey, letting them blend into the background. Smart, yet that would be useless against stronger cultivators.
His initial plan of dodging through the explosions now useless, Verkatu proceeded with his second plan: going outside the volley area and flanking them. They knew where he would start from, so they first concentrated fire in that area, before slowly increasing the size of the volley, lowering the density, and dragging it towards their location, trying to track his approximate path.
Verkatu ran many times faster than any keku could, the only reason he didn't fly was to keep the game fair. Perhaps they still underestimated his speed, as he quickly approached the edge of the volley, noticing a new problem. They expected him to try and flank them, so the edges parallel to the direct path towards them were reinforced, explosions ringing constantly there. Perhaps that's why he had a relatively easy time not getting his until then, they weren't trying to win in this phase, merely keep him from flanking.
Vekatu kept on running right on the edge of the reinforced volley area, vying for a time when the area of attack got large enough that an opening would appear. The explosions were taking a toll on him, draining his stamina, ruining his hearing, and making him cough from all of the dust in the air, forcing him to rip a piece of cloth from his tattered shirt to use as a mask. Hopefully, his ears would heal soon after he was done, if he had to deal with deafness for more than a few days perhaps this experiment wasn't worth it…
There was blood on his mask. That… wasn't supposed to happen, the explosions weren't strong enough to cause him internal injuries, not after this few of them.
Panicked, Vekatu looked around, trying to notice if he had missed anything, if he had perhaps walked into a trap without noticing. There was nothing, except… unexploded shells. Suspecting they had something to do with his condition, Vekatu picked one up as he ran past it. It looked normal, except much lighter, and with a hole in its side, which suggested something that scared him. They were using poison, weakening his body just enough that, combined with the explosions he would take actual damage.
Jumping up as hard as he could, his strengthened body letting him almost see past the hill straight into the 'enemy' camp, Vekatu hoped he managed to escape the poison cloud as he took a deep breath of air, then descended. This would affect his stamina heavily, yet it was much better than falling unconscious in the middle of artillery fire. Really? Poison? Who thought that this was safe?
He was approaching a forest, and about to have to climb a hill, both of which, combined with his current status and the explosions would only lead to his loss. This was his last chance to leave the volley zone.
Rushing again to the right side, breath still held in his powerful lungs, Verkatu kept his eyes on the sky, looking at each and every shell that was heading toward the edge. A hundred meters, fifty, twenty… that's when an opportunity arose. A few of the projectiles had clumped together, heading toward the same spot, yet leaving a giant opening at the same time. Pushing all power in his legs, Verkatu dashed forward, making it right in time before the clump landed and a giant explosion propelled him away dozens of meters. Had he been just a second too late, even with his heaven body, Verkatu would have been incapacitated.
Taking a deep breath, then panicking before making sure the wind wasn't blowing towards him, and sighing in relief as it wasn't, Verkatu only rested for a minute before getting up and heading around the hill, now at a much lighter pace.
Arriving there in about a quarter of an hour, instead of a camp the only thing he was able to see was a cloud of smoke. Smart. Without a doubt, the terrain there was filled with landmines. The 'no flying' rule, however, was only meant for the first stage of the combat.
Pushing all of his power into his legs, Vekatu leaped up, spreading his wings and soaring above the smoke screen… only to see dozens of machine guns facing straight at him, opening fire and peppering him with low-caliber bullets, which hurt. A lot.
They knew that a cultivator's greatest strength was their agility, and one would logically try and flank the enemy, so instead of preventing that, they tricked him, and the wind blowing to the left would send all the shells slightly in that direction, making the right easier to escape, and clear to them that he would approach from that direction. The poison only reinforced that.
"Hold fire!" A voice rang throughout the entire camp, and fortunately for Verkatu, they listened.
Landing in the camp, he quickly met the origin of that voice, the commander of the regiment he faced, no doubt. With a frame larger than the average cultivator, even Verkatu felt a little intimidated by the man, before remembering the difference in both strength and status that was between them.
"You won… that was unexpected." Verkatu spoke to the man, trying to be polite, yet accidentally throwing something that could be understood as a backhanded compliment.
The commander either decided to ignore the unintentional meaning or didn't understand it, luckily for him. "Perhaps a less experienced leader would have lost… you're stronger than the others I've faced, individually, yet you're one person, while I have hundreds of well-equipped men at my disposal. Not to talk about strategic genius…" The commander smiled at him. "Now! Let's not waste time! Men, clean the mortars, prepare the shells! The next combat simulation starts in two hours! After that, we can have a break for the day!" He yelled the orders, receiving yells of approval back.
"Wait… there's multiple of these? Are there… other cultivators coming, or…?" Verkatu began asking the commander, now sure of his mistake in volunteering.
The only thing he received in return from him, however, was a devious smile, before the commander turned back and headed towards the camp. Verkatu could almost swear he heard him mutter something about 'morale'.
