The so-called "headquarters" is located in a huge basement in the southwest of the city. I guess the word "basement" alone is not enough to describe this place, it is simply a huge underground fortress. I think even the legendary undead underground castle is far inferior to this one.

According to our enthusiastic coachman, the elven warrior, the headquarters was located a kilometer deep underground, with hundreds of thousands of soldiers and supplies, and was able to withstand the attack of a nuclear explosion - thankfully, there was something I could understand, the theory of the so-called "nuclear explosion" that I had been exposed to from the study of alchemy, but I had always thought that only the most hysterical anti-life lunatics would study it. It turns out that in 7,000 years, we may be able to solve the problem of nuclear explosions, but we can't solve the problem of the nerves of those dangerous geniuses.

But after the outbreak of war, most of this command was abandoned, and even then, there was enough space left for us. When we got out of the car, we found ourselves in a huge space – yes, you heard me right, I said "vast". In a radius of tens of miles, there are various fusiform objects with huge wings, which coincidentally resemble the "airplanes" studied by a pair of dwarf teenagers named the Wright brothers in the city of Campunavia 7,000 years ago. I would venture to judge that these are manned vehicles – and possibly even flying weapons. In addition, all kinds of ironclad vehicles also filled this space, and many soldiers in special uniforms and armor shouted loudly and shuttled back and forth, driving these ironclad vehicles out of here one by one, rushing to the front line.

Standing at the front of the pack was an old man named "General Dirk", dressed in ridiculously thin gray-green cloth armor - believe me, this armor could not even defend against the threat of nail clippers, not to mention the flat, crooked hat on his head, which looked like he had just been flattened with a stick - I really don't know how this weak old fellow got mixed with the general.

Oh, by the way, this Dirk General's short, stocky stature and long reddish-brown beard are testament to the fact that he's an out-and-out underground dwarf - I guess that explains why this command is buried deep underground rather than built on it.

Behind General Dirk were two figures, one tall and gaunt, wearing an ill-fitting white coat and a pair of delicate gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose — compared to which the thing on his eyes was a heavy helmet — his skin was indigo and his lips were baring two sharp fangs. There is no doubt that this is a troll, and his name is "Professor Bamgreen".

The other is a beautiful dark elf named "Major Elliot". She was also dressed in a similar cloth armor, but with a few unintended patterns on her shoulders and chest. In her hand she holds a gleaming hardboard with images and words that change from time to time. I felt very close to it, because the sight of it reminded me of all the little image-showing tricks that Carlson Sr. taught me in the Gravel Fortress.

Seeing us get out of the car, General Dirk did not hide his suspicions and disappointment in the slightest.

"That's what you're talking about, Professor......" he looked at us with a frown as he held a burning and smoking thing in the corner of his mouth, "...... You mean, this group of primitive ...... Can indigenous people help us win this war? These young chickens are not as old as my grandchildren. ”

"Strictly speaking...... "Professor Bamgreen, the troll," retorted mercilessly......, The grandchildren of these heroes from seven thousand years ago are all older than you, General. ”

The general was embarrassed by the professor's words, and he took a hard sip of the thing with smoke coming from the corner of his mouth, and the red beard on his chin jumped and jumped, as if his whole face was twitching. This embarrassed expression made us all laugh.

“…… In addition, the general ......" Professor Bamgreen took out a round instrument from his pocket, and pressed it, and an image suddenly appeared in the air...... This is a mural from 7,000 years ago, it was discovered more than 1,000 years ago from a place called Reef Fort, and along with this mural was the treasure of the king of the seven seas and the great pirate 'Red Turban' Kelsie. It details how these men traveled through the rift to seven thousand years into the future, and helped us defeat that guy and get things back to normal. The pirates painted a memento of them for restoring the island to its original state. You see, this woman is this guy, and this warrior is him......" As he spoke, the Troll Professor pointed to the blurry mural and compared it to us.

"String Song Yayi, they painted you like Ultraman...... Red Wolf laughed excitedly, pointing to the mural. I don't know what Ultraman is, but the oval shape of the mural's huge glasses depicting String Ge Yayi looks very expressive.

"I don't understand, Professor, why you recognize that these primitive natives can help us win the war. They won't even use energy guns. If the broken metal in their hands can defeat that guy, then I can gnaw it to death with my teeth. General Dirk's tone was full of disdain.

"That's because that guy knows our weapons well, most of our weapons are developed and manufactured by him, and battlefield practice has proven that it has more defense against our energy weapons than expected. And they, the 'natives' you are talking about, have a magical power that we have lost in the course of evolutionary development – the power of magic," the professor explained.

I've noticed that both generals and professors describe the enemy in the third person singular, i.e., "he" rather than "them." In addition, I found that this command is home to almost all the intelligent races that can be found in the entire Falvi continent, whether it is humans, bloods, elves or demons, they are all here, and there are even two undead skeletons with wrenches over there. It's a sight I've never seen before, and I can't even imagine it. All the races have overcome their differences and are united as brothers.

Yet, strangely enough—I thought—since they were all here, comrades in the same trenches, brothers on the same front, who could the enemy be?

"The power of magic ......," General Dirk snorted coldly, "...... Whatever you want, Professor, I hope you can win the war with that toddler's stick figure. But I have reservations. Major Elliott, please tell our guests a little bit about this place. With that, the general waved his hand, spat out a smoke ring violently, and turned to leave.

Major Elliott, the dark elf, spread out the board in his hand with a blank expression, and some strange patterns immediately floated out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are now in the distance of seven thousand years from your time, and you already know this. According to all the historical records we have at our disposal, 7,000 years ago, you succeeded in helping us defeat our enemies and return to our own time. This is good news for us in this difficult situation. We sincerely implore you, it is strange to be able to ...... again", why did she say "again", we are obviously here for the first time? “…… Help us defeat the enemy, this is the only way to save this world from the apocalypse, and your only chance to return to your plane. ”

"Our enemy is a supercomputer called 'Darimoth'. It was put into operation a hundred years ago and has been the force of the Falvi world's military, scientific research, education and economic power for a century. It is programmed to protect all intelligent life in the world of Pharvi. However, since five years ago, it has lost control and has begun to take over all the forces of this world in all directions. Since its tentacles have reached all corners of this world, we lack the ability to fight it. The current headquarters was built from a strategic base that was abandoned a hundred years ago, and we were lucky to find it. And the mastermind of 'Darimoth' is in this city. We need you to ...... this module," she said, pulling out a diamond-shaped object that glowed blue and was full of technology, "...... embedded in its brain, thus directly deleting it ......"

When the glamorous dark elf uttered the name of "Darimoth", I almost jumped in horror. But the thought that it was the product of the last hundred years, and that it had nothing to do with the supreme god, reluctantly relieved me.

I've always wondered what she meant by "computer," but it doesn't seem like she's going to go any further. Moreover, my fellow Airfarers were unimpressed, and I suspected that it was something they didn't need to ask about, so I didn't dare to ask any further.

Unlike when I listened intently to Major Elliot's introduction, my companions didn't seem to care. In the words of our eldest lady, Miss Fei Yin, it is: "It's a waste of time for these NPCs to ramble on and on about the plots we all know." "They don't seem to be worried about being in a plane seven thousand years later, and surprisingly, they seem familiar with it all:

"Hey, this seems to be the scene of 'Iron Armor', I have played this game, and it used to be a stand-alone version." Longbow Shooting Sun looked at the steel machines around him and exclaimed excitedly.

"'Distant Continent' and 'Iron Armor' were originally Darimoth's games, and now 'Iron Armor' is about to be released in the in version, so advertise here to promote it." Niu Million explained.

"Aren't you done yet? It's slow, everyone should turn off the conversation, and it can save some time. Fei Yin said impatiently.

"Don't be busy, President. It's also fun to watch the plot. "Nocturne in B flat minor clearly disagrees.

……

“…… For now, you'd better split into two groups, one of which is holding the Mastermind's Cale zone to prevent the enemy from coming back, while the other group is going straight to the Mastermind's central zone and eliminating Darimus as quickly as possible. Our transport planes are ready for you to board your flight at any time. In the midst of the cacophony, Major Elliott, the dark elf, dutifully finished his last sentence. Following her guidance, I saw a sleek black flying machine, with a dwarf coachman already sitting in the front, and ten seats in the back cabin.

Due to the existence of the half-orc fat shadow thief Yangtze River Delta, it was destined to be a pleasant journey from the beginning. In fact, I think the only correct way to get the Yangtze River Delta to ride with us in this narrow flying machine is to put it in after the first thing to do, but unfortunately even after 7,000 years, our descendants have not developed this obviously very practical technology. In the end, we had to put him in the middle seat and shoot the sun with a longbow, so that the plane would not be weighed aside by his weight.

The cabin we were flying in was hermetically sealed, which was bad news for most people, as we couldn't get the view from above, but it was a boon for the very acropsphobia. Even so, he chose another middle spot, as it seemed to give him a greater sense of security—a decision he didn't know he had made for the rest of his life.

When we were all seated, three straps came out from the back of our chairs, two from our shoulders and under our armpits, and one across our waists, holding us to our seats. The texture of these two straps is very special, strong and flexible, which ensures our stability in the seat without making people feel too restrictive - of course, this "we" refers to normal and toned creatures like me, at least the Yangtze River Delta will not like this design, I think this guy's intestines are about to be strangled.

With a roar, we could feel the craft slowly drift off the ground after a bit of shaking. There was a burst of music from the cockpit, and the melody was grand, magnificent, and impassioned, which made people feel excited. Listening to the sound of this very atmospheric music, I suddenly understood one thing - no wonder this flying machine looked so huge and there was only a little room for us to sit, and that group of idiots actually cram a whole symphony orchestra into it. And in terms of musical attainments, the level of this band is far from that of our bard Nocturne in B flat minor, and there is nothing more inspiring to the heroic ambition in our hearts than the fierce "One Eight Touches".

I thought we'd be sitting in a steady cabin, listening to a high-spirited little song, and making it all the way to our destination, but experience has taught me that when I feel that way, bad luck doesn't go too far – and this time was no exception. Just a few minutes after we flew into the air, an increasingly dense explosion was heard outside the cabin, and a piercing alarm sounded in the cabin, and a red indicator light hanging above the cabin suddenly flashed, as if symbolizing an ominous omen. A nervous voice rang out—I guess it was the dwarf coachman's—and he shouted: We've been attacked, switch to manual combat mode, get ready for battle, shoot down enemy planes, and make sure you're safe until you land.

I only understood the words "we were attacked" by him, but he didn't seem to give me much time to ponder. Soon, I felt the cabin we were in roar again, followed by violent vibrations, it sounded like some big, heavy metal doors were opening or closing, the walls on both sides of the cabin slowly opened, revealing some hidden cabins, and then our seats began to move, and that's when I realized that our seats were all fixed to some special tracks. Along these tracks, our seats were moved to different cabins.

I was moved to the top of this flying machine, which was an almost completely transparent circular cockpit with a strangely shaped handle in the cockpit, a red case on the left and right sides of the handle, and a small screen in the center of the handle with a ring in the middle. Extending from this handle was a long, silvery-gray, thick, metal tube covered with patterns that glowed blue. I subconsciously grabbed the handle and shook it to the left, and the whole cockpit immediately rotated to the left, and the image on the screen changed accordingly. I thought about it for a moment, and casually pressed the button on my right hand, and an indigo pillar of light immediately shot out of a metal tube, and on the screen, I could see that this pillar of light was right through the center of the ring.

I immediately realized that it was a powerful magic weapon system, and that the beam of light that had just been shot was the same thing as the light coming from the entrance to the Reef Keep dungeon. When I think of this, I can't help but feel a little gloomy: the only signal that our descendants have sent to their ancestors through 7,000 years of time and space is actually war, they live in such a beautiful era, and yet they can't escape the brutal and bloody side of this world just like us. If people 7,000 years ago knew this, should they be relieved or hopeless?

I didn't have much time to sigh, and soon I saw my enemy. It was a group of saucer-shaped flying machines, with red flames of light from below and crimson pillars of dangerous light from the front, chasing us not far behind. They were much smaller and faster than the one we were flying in, and they were about to catch up with us.

At such a critical moment, one of the most important questions that popped into my mind was: It's strange, where is the symphony orchestra that plays music hidden?

As a warrior, I'm standing on a strange battlefield that doesn't belong to me, wielding a strange weapon that doesn't belong to me, and facing a group of strange enemies that don't belong to me, and these guys obviously won't spare my life just because I look strange. Is there anything worse in this world?

In fact, there are still some:

"Help," a hysterical shout rang in my ears, making my hands tremble and almost make a hole in our own aircraft.

Hell, I almost forgot about it

Of course, it was the cry of the strings, who else but him?。.。