Maybe your troops are tough, or maybe your tactics are superior, your weapons more advanced, or you have every possible advantage—timing, location, and unity. In your eyes, it would be hard to lose this battle even if you tried. Yet you lost. Because you lost to something no one can control.

Luck!

When this thing appears at a specific time and place, the outcome can be completely opposite to what was expected at the start.

Right now, the Federation troops are undoubtedly very lucky. These warriors, who lowered their shields to the minimum and went into battle almost naked, not only didn’t lose a single armored vehicle to the enemy, but instead, by sheer accident, managed to seize the upper hand.

In the era of ancient Earth wars, there were often cases where a single soldier would chase after a group of soldiers.

Morale and luck!

Without the morale of burning your bridges, such crazy actions would never happen. And without luck, even if the fleeing soldiers turned around and fired a random shot, they could kill the idiot chasing a whole group by himself.

An ancient Chinese philosopher once said: “When people’s hearts are scattered, it’s hard to lead the troops.” Now, this saying was so painfully true that it left a bitter taste in the mouth of the Imperial commander. His soldiers could no longer be rallied; most had fallen into fighting on their own.

Under the pressure of watching one mech after another being destroyed and blown up by the Federation, the Imperial troops began to waver, which then developed into sporadic routs. In the end, this rout suddenly turned into a panicked flight. The mechs scattered and fled like a flock of sheep pounced on by hungry wolves.

……

William Carter also had a bitter taste in his mouth. He really wanted to have a good cry. Life was just unbearable. Behind him, the shadow of an Imperial flanking armored squad was already faintly visible. In at most ten minutes, that squad would circle around the forest and reach the battlefield.

On this chaotic battlefield, William Carter thought, “If I make it back alive, I’m applying for discharge!”

The unlucky fat man William Carter was running, drenched in sweat.

A year of scout training hadn’t made him lose a single pound, and half a year of war had only kept him from gaining more weight.

“If I’d known I couldn’t lose weight, why did I come here to suffer?”

William Carter felt like his life was a tragedy.

If only he could have stayed in the villa his parents left him when they passed away, with a flying car, found a simple job, married a beautiful wife, and hung out with some drinking buddies after work—that was his dream life.

“This is temporary logistics squad mechanical maintenance corporal William Carter, requesting communication.”

William Carter licked his lips, running madly toward the battlefield while shouting loudly.

“That fat guy who came to repair the mechs a few days ago? Why are you still here?”

This was the armored squad’s local channel. Being able to connect to this closed channel meant the person was nearby. The mech infantry were surprised—the battle had been raging for two days and nights, and yet the fat guy who came to repair the mechs days ago was still here.

William Carter thought with a wry smile, “I’d love to run, but can the battlefield recorder on my arm let me just escape?”

The fat man didn’t know that the battlefield recorder usually didn’t restrict logistics personnel from leaving the battlefield; its main function was to record battle achievements and restrict combat soldiers from leaving the combat radius. But for soldiers with abnormal data, the recorder would change its instructions. More than twenty times leaving combat without firing a single shot, not killing any enemies, always staying out of the fight, and not even being spotted or shot at by a single enemy.

If that’s not abnormal data, what is?

William Carter’s combat data had already been flagged on the Federation Combat Command Center’s red alert list.

“Fatty, just run for yourself.” The L9-2101 mech commander said.

“How am I supposed to run!?”

William Carter wailed in utter misery.

“Other than this tiny patch of forest, it’s all open ground. The Imperial heavy mechs are here too.”

The Imperial Army’s [Behemoth II] heavy mech stands twelve meters tall, weighs eighty tons, and is made entirely of alloy. It’s equipped with all-around radar, a heavy energy defense shield, and uses eight reverse-jointed mechanical legs for walking, reaching speeds of 120 km/h. In prone mode, it has sixteen huge mechanical wheels and can travel at 280 km/h on roads. It can carry 20 medium missiles, 4 anti-air missiles, two energy autocannons, and a 360-degree rotating [Fire Serpent] heavy machine gun.

For a machine like that, spotting and killing a fat guy in a logistics vest, running at 20 km/h with a modified broken gun, just outside the forest, would be child’s play.

“No time left, everyone follow the single-unit mech up ahead. Go north first, then west, then south, follow the Supengman River. The central defense line to the east has already been breached, and the rear is blocked.”

William Carter was gasping for breath, the high-speed running making his lungs feel congested. Every breath burned, and it took him five swallows just to get those few sentences out.

“Fatty, are you serious?”

The mech soldiers were half in doubt.

“Damn it! I’m a scout from the special training squad!”

The mech soldiers all fell silent, and immediately began to carry out William Carter’s plan.