Counterfeit Hero

A new morning arrived, and the sun of the Little Pyrenees painted the sky with golden hues, while the jungle remained shrouded in milky white fog, indistinctly.

The ragged Magic Beast ran, its enormous mechanical limbs trampling over a shallow creek, splashing water everywhere with a clattering sound. At the end of the creek stood a waterfall, over ten meters high, and above it lay another waterfall. Sparse water curtains hung lightly, producing a rushing sound as they descended, and the surrounding valley rocks were covered with dark green moss.

The Magic Beast jumped lightly, leaping onto the first waterfall, and without hesitation, it clung to the rocks at the top of the second waterfall. Instead of climbing up, it turned around and leaped across a shallow pond, and with its rear-end sliding and scrambling, it burrowed into the jungle on the left. The Mecha's color shifted into indistinguishable jungle camouflage.

More than ten minutes later, a golden Apollo appeared between the two waterfalls, at the edge of the shallow pond. It didn't even glance at the clear climbing traces atop the second waterfall, turning swiftly into the jungle on the left.

A dozen minutes later, sounds of Energy Cannon roaring and explosions erupted from the jungle, accompanied by furious cursing.

The outbreak of interstellar war plunged human society into an apocalyptic chaos.

In the war zones, every city trembled under gunfire, countless civilians lost their homes, and the wealth accumulated over a lifetime turned into billowing smoke amidst the war fires.

Armies from different camps attacked each other, with infantry charging forward, self-propelled artillery providing dense fire cover, central combat Mecha executing precise strikes and breaking through defenses, and land-based fighters and air-based fighters engaging in slaughter. Twisted together, they formed a grim scene of steel, blood, and raging flames.

Viewed from above, countless explosions flared up across the vast planetary lands, turning fields into scorched earth, and cities into ruins; humans were using this radiant destruction to annihilate their civilization.

But this was just the beginning, driving despair into those who longed for peace and tranquility. They didn't know when misfortune would strike them and their loved ones, nor did they know when this terrifying ordeal would come to an end!

Humanity had amassed an overwhelming amount of weapons, armies, conspiracies, and hatred for this war. From the onset, everyone knew that once war began, it would unfailingly be a drawn-out, arduous process. Neither side would easily claim victory. The ultimate victor would inevitably suffer immense losses; it would be a pyrrhic victory.

Nonetheless, the war had to be fought; no one could stop a war already set in motion.

Especially on May 25, 2062, when the leading nations of the two major military blocs, the Binart Empire and the Feiyang Republic, simultaneously dispatched troops to the Karsdon Star River situated between the two countries, war finally erupted completely amidst the terrifying confrontation of these two superpowers!

By May 30, 2062, the war had swept through 48 countries and 16 districts among the 60-odd states and 20-plus autonomous regions of human society.

Each large and small country in different Star Domains formed various United Army alliances, mobilizing their national machinery to its fullest. Countless armies consisting of thousands of soldiers were assembled, replenishing weapons and equipment, undergoing training, and awaiting deployment to the front lines.

On the front lines, each war-torn planet saw intense battles for every city, and desperate fights at every military critical point, with armored units storming enemy defenses, slaughtering every non-friendly target within view. Countless lives vanished in an instant, and countless troop designators were canceled or merged.

Soldiers were deployed to battlefields by armored personnel carriers or transport ships, where they defended or attacked, embroiled in fierce combat. Eventually, some soldiers remained forever in those positions, while others disbanded, scattering across plains, jungles, or mountains. With no one to assist them, they couldn't find their units, allies, or the way back; all they could do was trek alone.

Some soldiers became prisoners, some were killed by the enemy, and others died from various accidents. The fortunate ones returned to their positions, only to be reassigned to another unit number and sent back to the battlefield.

On the interstellar route, countless fleets shuttled back and forth, consisting of transport ships carrying troops and supplies, newly commissioned ships, fleets mobilized from the rear to the front lines, and damaged ships retreating from the front line, sailing slowly with scars.

These fleets filled every human-owned route, escorting transport convoys, assisting the Army in occupying planets, stationing in space with Space Carriers, deploying numerous air-based fighters into the atmosphere to annihilate every target needing destruction.

Like a Wolf Pack, they roamed the vast cosmos, lurking in nebulae, behind planets, or within meteorite belts, ready to leap at prey appearing on the routes, devouring it whole before swiftly vanishing into the boundless space.