"This time, I must get what I want."
"It's not to prove anything, but to tell everyone that I can do it."
In a private room at an internet cafe in Holy Terra (Earth/Reality).
Luo Baode looked at the computer screen in front of him, his eyes firm.
To ensure everything was foolproof, he specifically rented a top-spec computer at the internet cafe with maximum internet speed and hardware.
He also ran several accelerators and auxiliary software.
For nothing else, just for one thing, and that was to snatch reservation slots.
18:57
18:58
Luo Baode held his breath, gripping the mouse, staring intently at the chat group.
Messages were scrolling rapidly.
The group members were all eagerly anticipating this allocation of slots.
Just then, a message appeared.
"Group Owner [Corporate Slave Captured by the Emperor] has enabled group mute."
"Is it coming?"
Luo Baode's breathing quickened.
At this moment, an accelerator software disconnected, and a pop-up window appeared.
Immediately after, the screen turned blue, and the computer restarted.
The Machine Spirit was greatly displeased?
Luo Baode was stunned for a few seconds, then let out a tragic cry.
"No!!"
Everyone in the internet cafe looked over, their faces filled with pity.
How many times must he have been played with and abandoned, played with and abandoned by women, to emit such a miserable cry.
Luo Baode in the private room looked at the restarting computer, losing all his strength, his life a bleak expanse.
Macragge needed its Regent, why did fate have to be so cruel to him!!
By the time he remembered he still had his phone and fumbled to take it out, a minute had already passed.
He clicked on the reservation link sent by the group owner and found that the number of reservations was 150/150.
He had once again missed out on that 100% realistic game.
"Group Owner [Corporate Slave Captured by the Emperor] has disabled group mute."
Guilliman is the Only Sun: "No!! Why is this happening to me! The people of Macragge need me, the Empire needs me, why is this happening!!"
I Don't Want to Be a Stinky Can: "Old Thirteen, what's wrong with you again?"
Guilliman is the Only Sun: "I didn't get a game slot, my life has lost its color at this moment."
+1
+1
+10086
...
The chat group was filled with sadness, all from group members who were too slow and failed to get a slot, spamming the chat.
Gabe Meng Jiao: "Ah, no way, it was quite easy to get, why couldn't you all get it? Are you not working hard enough?"
Guilliman is the Only Sun: "[Bolter shooting Heretic.jpg]"
Desert Lone Smoke: "Getting a slot, isn't that something anyone with hands can do?"
Erlonghu Gang Leader: "Desert, are you speaking human language?"
...
The chat group messages scrolled rapidly.
Alex watched for a while, then ignored it.
He got up to check the repair status of the Imperial Glory at the port.
The situation in Tirien Hive City was already critical.
Several rounds of orbital bombardment were needed to suppress those traitors and make them realize their predicament.
When Alex arrived, the port was bustling.
Various machines roared and rumbled.
Industrial servitors walked back and forth, using hydraulic mechanical arms to transport heavy materials.
Survivors were organized, working under the guidance of several Mechanical Priests to maintain the Imperial Glory.
Several experienced naval officers trained the Players and newly recruited sailors.
They aimed to enable them to master basic knowledge of warship navigation and the operation of various systems in the shortest possible time.
As Alex walked by, people along the way saluted him.
Alex also nodded frequently in response.
He walked up to the chief of maintenance, Jackdo Priest.
Jackdo Priest hurriedly put down the data-slate in his hand and saluted him.
"Honored emissary of the omnissiah, welcome."
"How is the situation?" Alex asked.
"Progress is currently good; it is estimated that the Imperial Glory will be ready to set sail in just 3 days."
"You've done an excellent job." Alex nodded, not sparing his praise.
Jackdo Priest humbly said: "All this is the wisdom of the omnissiah; we merely follow its guidance."
Alex turned to look at the Imperial Glory.
The moon-class battleship was like a magnificent giant city.
Its metal hull was a tall city wall.
The towering antennas and turrets were its building complex.
The gigantic cannons on both sides of the hull and the hundred-meter-tall sculptures made one feel tiny.
"It's time to let those traitors know the price of betraying the Emperor."
Alex's heart was filled with anticipation.
He was already impatient to give the rebels a small shock.
Of course, he himself also wanted to experience what orbital bombardment felt like.
Before, he only played it in games, but now he could finally operate it in real life.
On the other side, the Players were also preparing for ground combat.
After Dora Workshop's factory received that interest-free loan, it quickly expanded production.
Several assembly lines operated simultaneously, producing both Tomorrow I Type and Tomorrow II Type exoskeleton armor.
Most of the output was bought by Alex with contribution points, to arm the local army.
"Can it be customized?"
Little Fatty, who had just finished touring the factory, looked at Dora with anticipation.
"That's a bit difficult." Dora frowned.
"The price can be discussed."
"First, tell me your requirements."
"I want to build a few AT-ST walkers from Star Wars, equipped with more multi-barreled bolters, laser cannons, and preferably a main cannon on the back."
"...No problem, sure."
Dora listened to Little Fatty's words, stunned for a moment, then nodded seriously.
"How about I build you two Emperor-class Titans too? That would look mighty."
"And equip them with Hellfire missiles and giant cannons, the kind that can flatten a mountain with one shot."
"You can build that stuff? Is that real or fake?" Little Fatty's mouth hung open, looking at Dora in shock.
"More than that, I can also build Gundams, Death Stars, phase engines, droplets, and two-dimensional foils."
"...Brother, are you joking?"
"Weren't you the one who joked first?" Dora rubbed his brow.
"You really think I'm that blue fat cat from the anime, who has whatever you want?"
The AT-ST walker from Star Wars, also known as the All-Terrain Armored Transport, is 22.5 meters tall.
That thing, with two arms, could be used as a Knight mech.
This broken factory can barely make exoskeletons, let alone mechs.
Little Fatty: "..."
"Alright, I admit my demands were too high. Then can we increase the firepower? Like a shoulder-mounted cannon, or a chainsword or something."
"You can consider our Tomorrow Heavy Armor III Type." Dora took out a design draft.
The design philosophy of the III Type is different from the previous two; the first two balanced firepower, defense, and mobility.
The III Type sacrifices mobility to enhance firepower and defense; its movement speed is slow, but its firepower is fierce.
It's also larger, standing five meters tall.
"It's possible, but I hope the firepower can be even stronger."
Little Fatty was very satisfied with the III Type design draft, but still felt a bit unsatisfied with the firepower.
"It's possible, but the endurance will decrease, and it will be more dependent on logistics," Dora said.
"Set everything aside, just focus on firepower and defense. We'll figure out logistics separately," Little Fatty said. "Later, I'll talk to Blood Pigeon and have them figure out how to airdrop batteries and ammunition for us on the battlefield."
Dora nodded, "Alright, tell me what you want to add, and I'll see if it's feasible."
Spending two days, Dora and his subordinates modified five heavy-duty III Type exoskeleton armors for Little Fatty.
They sacrificed mobility and endurance to enhance firepower and defense.
To ensure battlefield survivability, Dora also specially added a set of deflection shield systems.
It could deflect kinetic weapons and energy beams through an electromagnetic deflection matrix.
Once deployed on the battlefield, with its ferocious firepower and excellent defense, it would be enough to destroy all enemies.
The only downside was its poor endurance; it could be said to be a "three-second true man" on the battlefield.
Dora checked these five exoskeleton armors several times, and after confirming there were no issues, he notified Little Fatty to pick them up.