From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth-Chapter 166: Training Begins,

The first drop pod hit the ground with a controlled thud barely a hundred meters from Fort Delta’s east wall. The hatches hissed open, and five figures in matte-gray training armor burst out, already sprinting. Two more pods landed simultaneously on the north and west flanks.

"Contact! East wall!" shouted a Blue Team defender, João, his voice calm despite the incoming assault. "Three hostiles, 100 meters, closing! Holding fire!" His optical sensors in his helmet highlighted the charging figures.

Inside Fort Delta, Miguel, leading a Blue Team fire team, peered through a fortified viewport. "Pedro, hold the main gate. Santos, cover the north flank. Cortez, with me on the East. No wasted shots, remember! Make ’em count! They’re cocky, let’s make ’em pay for it."

The Red Team attackers moved with shocking speed, their enhanced bodies covering ground in long, blurring strides. They deployed a training turret near the east wall, its barrels swiveling to acquire targets.

"Turret deployed! East flank!" warned a Blue Team comm.

"Grenade!" shouted another Blue, as a training grenade, glowing red, bounced near their position. It detonated with a harmless POP, filling the air with a temporary, disorienting fog.

"Blue Team, remember your training! Reactive camouflage engaged!" Miguel barked, activating a function on his armor that made his suit shimmer, adapting to the grey fort wall, making him harder to target. "Maintain suppression! Don’t let them mass up!"

The training rifles on both sides began to crackle, sending bursts of kinetic projectiles. A Red Spartan stumbled, then fell as a round impacted his chest, his suit flashing red. "Dammit! Pedro got me!" a frustrated voice swore over the Red Team comms. He lay immobilized, his HUD displaying ’KIA’.

"One down, East!" Pedro yelled, adjusting his aim. "Two more closing fast!"

On the north flank, Santos’s heavy footfalls resonated as he repositioned. "They’re trying to flank around the back! We got a mobile artillery unit deploying on the field, aiming for the roof!"

"Artillery strike incoming! Brace for impact!" a Blue Team comm shouted. The fort shuddered as simulated artillery rounds impacted the roof, concussive but non-damaging. They were meant to disorient, to force a tactical retreat.

"Stay sharp, Spartans! That’s just to flush us out!" Cortez grunted, delivering a rapid burst of fire that took down another Red Team member attempting to scale the wall. "No climbing on my watch, verme!"

The battle stretched on. Minutes felt like hours. The Red Team, despite their speed and aggression, found themselves constantly outmaneuvered by the defenders’ superior tactical positioning and coordinated fire. The Blue Team moved with a chilling efficiency, anticipating flanks, laying down suppressive fire, and calling out targets with pinpoint accuracy. Their voices were calm, disciplined, a stark contrast to the growing frustration and rapid-fire curses emanating from the Red Team comms.

A Red Team leader, frustrated by the stalemate, ordered a full frontal breach on the main gate. "All units! Focus fire on the gate! Push through!"

"They’re coming through the center!" Miguel warned, positioning himself. "Concentrate fire! Push ’em back!"

The sounds of kinetic impacts intensified as the Red Team charged, hoping to overwhelm the defenders with sheer force. But the Blue Team held, their lines unbroken. Rounds impacted power armor, flashing red indicators across their HUDs, but they absorbed the concussions, their gene-modified bodies and resilient suits shrugging off hits that would have felled unarmored men.

Suddenly, a Red Team sniper, positioned far out in the field, managed to land a precise shot. A blue Spartan guarding a critical corner went down, his suit flashing red. "Damn it! Sniped!"

"Medic! Cover that corner!" Miguel immediately ordered, without a second’s hesitation. "Pedro, shift left, fill the gap! Cortez, pressure the gate!"

The Red Team, seeing an opening, surged forward. But the gap was already filled. Pedro, moving with startling speed, laid down a wall of suppressive fire, forcing the attackers to fall back.

The last few minutes were a desperate push by the Red Team. They threw everything they had: more grenades, a coordinated dash across the open field, even a futile attempt to dig under the fort’s foundation with their training shovels. But the Blue Team was an unyielding wall. Their coordination was flawless, their discipline absolute. Every attempted breach was met with overwhelming, precise fire.

Finally, a digital voice echoed through the comms: "Round Over. Blue Team Victory."

A collective cheer erupted from the Blue Team, their voices hoarse but triumphant. They slapped each other on the back, their exhaustion overshadowed by the thrill of victory.

"That’s how it’s done, boys!" Cortez roared, ripping off his helmet, a wide grin splitting his face. "Discipline wins! Not brute force!"

Miguel, wiping sweat from his brow, nodded. "Good fight, everyone. Damn good fight." He looked at the defeated Red Team, who were slowly picking themselves up, their shoulders slumped. A small, knowing smirk touched his lips. "Looks like someone’s getting extra ’rest’ in the barracks. Enjoy the quiet, fellas."

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The digital voice of the training AI announced the next round, the same roster – Blue Team still defending, Red Team still attacking – but with a critical difference: one hour to prepare. This was not merely a rematch; it was a test of consistency, adaptability, and the rapid improvement forged in the crucible of their accelerated training. The attacking Red Team would plan their drop strategy from above the ceiling, while the defending Blue Team would reinforce Fort Delta and devise new contingency phases.

Red Team’s Tactical Huddle (Above the Ceiling):

The Red Team, frustrated by their previous defeat, gathered in a tight huddle. Voices were low, intense.

"Alright, listen up, you sorry bunch of targets!" snarled a Red Team leader, Sergeant Rojas, his voice raspier than Cortez’s. "That ’discipline’ crap worked for them last time. This time, we don’t play fair. We play smart."

"But Sarge, we’re still 150 against 150," another Spartan, a stocky man named Paulo, grumbled. "And they know our plays now."

Rojas grinned, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. "Exactly. That’s why we don’t repeat. We hit them from everywhere, and we hit them hard. Our objective isn’t just to breach; it’s to break their cohesion, force them to make mistakes."

He gestured to a holographic map of the training dome. "First, ten drop pods." He tapped a point a mile out, deep in the simulated open field. "They drop here. Their primary objective: establish a dug-out position for training mortars and artillery. We hit them with a sustained barrage. This isn’t about destroying the fort; it’s about making them think we’re going for a long-range engagement. We’ve got limited supply for these, so make every shell count."

"Long engagements aren’t our strength, Sarge," Paulo noted. "We’re designed for quick, decisive strikes."

"Precisely, idiota," Rojas snapped, though a glint of amusement in his eye softened the insult. "This is a diversion. After the barrage ends, the last wave will be smoke shells. Maximum coverage. As soon as the smoke settles, five more drop pods hit 300 meters east of the wall, and another five hit 300 meters west. These teams are your primary assault vectors, Paulo. They charge from their own newly dug trenches, storming the walls. They’ll reinforce each other, keep the defenders busy."

He pointed to the fort’s interior on the map. "And this is the kicker. Ten more drop pods, simultaneously, directly above the city structure inside the fort. Not the fort walls, but the city area within. As soon as that chaos begins, with their internal defenders scrambling, the east and west attackers charge to storm and reinforce. Their lines will be spread thin, their focus divided."

"And the artillery team, Sarge?" Paulo asked.

"Once their shells run out, their job isn’t over. They become a cleanup crew. Flank around, pick off any remaining defenders who try to escape the main assault. We drown them in chaos, then pick them apart." Rojas slapped the table. "Any questions? Good. Get to it. Make them wish they lost the last round."

Blue Team’s Defensive Strategy (Inside Fort Delta):

Inside Fort Delta, Miguel, Cortez, Pedro, and Santos huddled around their own holographic map, the echoes of the Red Team’s planning faintly audible through the reinforced walls.

"They’ll be looking for something different," Miguel stated, tracing a line on the map. "They know we held strong on the walls last time. Expect a new approach."

"Mortar fire, maybe," Pedro mused, pointing to the open field. "They’ve got those deployable units. A long-range bombardment to soften us up."

Cortez nodded grimly. "And they’ll try to split our focus. Hit the walls and maybe something internal at the same time."

"Our perimeter defenses held, but their drop pods are fast," Santos added. "We need contingencies for every angle. And what if they do breach?"

Miguel’s eyes flickered to the south end of the fort on the map, then to the external perimeter. A grim, but decisive, plan began to form. "Alright, here’s the plan. We reinforce the standard entry points, but we assume a multi-directional attack. Pedro, you lead a mobile reserve. Hit their flanks if they try to converge. Santos, set up a counter-sniper position, prioritize their artillery teams."

"And the deep breach, Miguel?" Cortez asked, his voice low. "If they get inside?"

Miguel swallowed, his jaw tight. "If all goes south, if they overwhelm our internal defenders and gain a foothold... contingency phase Delta-Zero. We initiate a feigned retreat to lure the bulk of the Red Team deeper into the fort’s city sector. We’ll set the demolition charges once they’re fully committed inside. Meanwhile, a considerable force—say, 40 of us, led by Pedro and Santos—will use the external service trap doors along the perimeter to egress outside the fort. Our objective: rapidly dig in with specialized portable excavation tools and set up long-range engagement positions. Once the fort detonates, creating maximum chaos, we’ll pick off any remaining Red Team elements caught in the open or trying to secure the rubble. This will buy us time to regroup and inflict maximum casualties before a final stand."

"So, a feigned retreat into a trap, then a counter-attack from the outside?" Pedro asked, his voice catching the strategic brilliance.

Miguel nodded. "Exactly. Make them think they’ve won the fort, then spring the real trap. It buys us time to regroup and launch a devastating counter-assault from a position of advantage." He looked at each of them. "Any objections? Good. Get to it. Make them remember why we’re the Spartans."

The Battle Begins Anew: Chaos Descends

The training dome roared to life. A digital countdown timer above the field clicked to zero.

High above, ten dark shapes detached from the ceiling – the Red Team’s initial drop pods, arcing outwards. They landed a mile away in the simulated wilderness with distant thuds. Immediately, the ground around them erupted as the Spartans within scrambled to deploy training mortars and artillery. A low, rhythmic thump-thump-thump began to echo across the dome, followed by whistling sounds as the first simulated shells arced towards Fort Delta.

"Incoming! Artillery barrage!" João barked from his reinforced position. "Brace for impact!"

Fort Delta shuddered as concussive bursts rocked its walls and roof. Dust motes danced in the air, visibility temporarily obscured. The Blue Team held their ground, absorbing the non-damaging impacts, but their comms were alive with reports of the shifting bombardment.

"They’re hitting the main gate!"

"North wall is taking heavy fire!"

Miguel watched the holographic display. "Keep the pressure up, Red Team! Force them to commit!" Rojas’s voice crackled, full of grim satisfaction.

Suddenly, the thump-thump-thump of the artillery intensified, then shifted to a different, softer whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. "Smoke! They’re deploying smoke shells!" Santos roared, his voice cutting through the comms.

The battlefield rapidly became a swirling vortex of dense, simulated smoke, blinding layers that choked vision. Through the digital haze, Richard’s view shifted to the new drop pod trajectories. Five plummeted towards the east, five towards the west, landing with barely a sound, 300 meters from the fort walls. And then, with a thunderous impact that reverberated through the entire structure, ten more drop pods crashed directly into the simulated city structures inside Fort Delta.

"Internal breach! Main plaza!" a panicked Blue Team comm shouted. "We’ve got drop pods inside the city! Repeat, inside the city!"

"Chaos! It’s chaos!" another voice shrieked.

"Internal defenders, converge on the drop points! Push them out!" Miguel bellowed, his voice straining but resolute. He could hear the sounds of frantic kinetic fire from within the fort, the sharp cracks of engagement as the internal Blue Team defenders scrambled to respond to the sudden, unexpected assault from within their own walls.

Outside, in the smoke, Rojas’s voice cut through the Red Team comms. "Now! East and West teams, charge! Storm the walls! They’re busy with the rats in their pantry!"

From the newly dug trenches, the east and west assault teams surged forward, a wave of matte-gray rushing through the swirling smoke, their training rifles spitting kinetic fire. Their objective: storm the fort walls, link up with the internal breach teams, and overwhelm the scattered defenders.

"East wall compromised! They’re on us!" João yelled. "Hold the line! Don’t let them consolidate!"

Miguel, now directing the internal defense, was a whirlwind of commands. "Pedro, hold the main gate, but prepare to fall back to the south. Santos, secure the south tunnels! Cortez, get your fire team to the main plaza, secure those internal breaches! Push them back! Don’t let them gain ground!"

The battle inside the fort became a desperate melee. Spartans fought Spartans in close-quarters combat, the impacts of their augmented bodies and training armor echoing through the simulated buildings. Explosions from training grenades flashed through the smoke. The internal breach teams, having dropped directly into the ’city’ section, were causing massive disruption, forcing the Blue Team to fight on multiple fronts.

"They’re too many! We’re being flanked from the market district!"

"Main gate’s buckling, Miguel! They’re pushing hard!" Pedro’s voice was strained.

Miguel, witnessing the overwhelming pressure on his internal and external lines, made the call. "Contingency Delta-Zero! Main force, fall back to the south, lure them deeper! Pedro, Santos, commence external egress! Move!"

"Understood, Miguel!" Pedro replied, his voice grim but resolute. "Egress team deploying! Last man inside triggers the fort charge!"

The main Blue Team force inside began a desperate, fighting retreat, pulling Red Team deeper into the simulated city’s narrow streets. Simultaneously, a smaller, highly agile Blue Team unit, approximately 40 Spartans led by Pedro and Santos, activated hidden trap doors along the fort’s outer perimeter. They swiftly exited into the smoke-filled, open field outside, quickly digging in with their specialized excavation tools, creating shallow but effective firing positions.

As Miguel’s team inside reached their final demolition points, the Red Team, sensing the imminent victory, surged forward, their comms filled with triumphant shouts.

Suddenly, a digital alarm blared over the Red Team comms. "Warning! Large energy signature detected! Imminent structural collapse! Fort Delta demolition detected! All units, emergency withdrawal from city sector! Pull back to open ground! NOW!"

Rojas, hearing the alarm and seeing the energy spike on his HUD, bellowed, "They’re blowing it! All Red Team inside the city, pull back! Get clear! Paulo, pull back the main assault elements outside the walls! Don’t get caught in the blast! Everyone out!"

A frantic scramble ensued. The Red Team, caught off guard by the demolition alarm, tried to reverse course, but many were already deep within the fort. The smaller, internal breach teams were especially vulnerable.

Finally, a massive, simulated explosion ripped through Fort Delta. The entire structure erupted in a flash of light and a cloud of debris, then collapsed into rubble, sending a concussive wave across the training dome.

Emerging from the dissipating smoke on the perimeter, the 40-strong Blue Team, led by Pedro and Santos, opened fire. They faced a severely depleted, but still far superior, Red Team force that had managed to withdraw from the fort, mostly Rojas’s main assault elements from outside the walls. The numerical advantage was stark, approximately 1 Blue Spartan for every 10 Red (40 Blue vs. ~400 Red from the internal and external forces).

Despite the impossible odds, the Blue Team fought with desperate ferocity. Their long-range kinetic rifles spat fire, picking off Red Team members caught disoriented in the lingering smoke and dust from the explosion. They managed to take down nearly half of the remaining Red Team forces—a staggering number given the odds—their tactical retreat and ambush proving brutally effective. But against such overwhelming numbers, it was a losing battle. One by one, their suit lights flashed red, until only Pedro and Santos remained, fighting back-to-back, their ammo dwindling. Finally, their own suits flickered, and they fell, completely eliminated.

"Round Over. Red Team Victory. Blue Team eliminated." The AI’s voice was flat, definitive.

The remaining Red Team members, covered in simulated dust and exhaustion, didn’t cheer. They were battered, surprised, and had taken heavy, unexpected losses. They had won, but at a far greater cost than anticipated, a humbling lesson in their opponents’ ingenuity.

"They had a counter-plan," Paulo muttered, looking at the distant, fallen Blue Team. "They lured us in, then tried to pick us off. Damn near worked."

Rojas, pulling off his helmet, wiped sweat from his brow, his face grim. "Damn right they did. Clever bastards. We barely caught that demolition warning, or we would have been annihilated. They chose to deny us the fort and take as many of us as possible with them." He looked at the rubble, a grudging respect in his eyes. "Alright, clean up, boys. We won, but they showed us what ’no surrender’ means, even in defeat. A costly victory."

Richard, watching from his office, leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. He watched as the Blue Team, now emerging from the southern access tunnels (re-spawn location), their armor dusty but their faces unbowed, gave a silent nod to the victorious Red Team. They had lost the fort and were ultimately eliminated, but their cunning strategy had forced a costly victory for their opponents, a testament to their adaptability and unyielding spirit. The Spartans were proving to be everything he had hoped for, and more.

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