The ground above the bunker had turned into something that barely resembled a battlefield anymore. It was a full-scale apocalypse—firestorms cutting across the plains, shockwaves ripping through trenches, and collapsing rock formations turning into avalanches that swallowed entire groups of players.
Xavier watched everything through the holo-screens, each feed coming from different scout drones and bunker cameras. The NPC army was holding the line far better than he expected. Artillery shells erupted in long arcs across the mountains, pulverizing every cluster large enough to matter. Automated gun platforms rotated without pause, shredding swarms of infantry before they could even get close.
The attackers had their own chaos going on. They had brought every vehicle skin they owned—tank convoys, armored mechs, hovercraft, improvised rocket bikes, and even several "cosmetic-only" mounts that somehow got physics enabled and were now being rammed into walls like battering rams.
