Caseoh led his company out of the shadow of the massive, rust-stained cooling towers of the nuclear power plant.
Although operations inside the plant were fraught with danger, they fortunately hadn't encountered any particularly troublesome xenomorphs or mechanical enemies. He let out a long breath, his tone laced with relief.
"Yo, not bad, not bad. We didn't run into any legendary-tier mobs. Mission accomplished smoothly, chat. We're cracked."
He pulled a datapad from his backpack, intending to check the next route plan. Just as he turned it on, the screen let out a ding and a new message popped up.
Caseoh wondered how it could be such a coincidence that a new message arrived the moment the mission ended. Then it clicked—they had likely been too close to the leaking nuclear reactor earlier, and the electromagnetic interference had jammed the signal.
The message had only just managed to get through. He hurried to check it; if he missed important intel because of a delay, it could be a disaster.
However, the moment his eyes swept over the content, Caseoh's face instantly changed. A less-than-gentle word escaped his lips: "Bro... what? Are you serious right now?"
The surrounding players, who were busy cleaning their gear or chatting, were immediately drawn to his reaction. They crowded around him: "Yo Caseoh, what's up? What happened!"
"Hold up, hold up," Caseoh said, shaking his head in disbelief, his voice a mix of exasperation and humor. "The higher-ups just sent word. The Kriegers took one look at the situation and decided they want a piece of the action. They're demanding half of the mission quota."
"Nah, nah, nah," Caseoh continued, reading ahead and muttering to himself. "This is crazy, bro. This is actually insane."
This caused an immediate uproar among the players.
"What the hell? What's that supposed to mean? That's way too pushy!" one player couldn't help but shout.
"Exactly! They just open their mouths and take half? Even allied units shouldn't act like this!" another player chimed in, clearly disgruntled.
"Yo Caseoh, what do we do?" someone asked, seeking his opinion.
Caseoh looked over his company, a bemused grin spreading across his face. Seeing the indignant expressions on their faces, he leaned back and laughed—that infectious, genuine laugh that his chat knew so well. "Bro, do you really think I'm about to let these guys waltz in and take half our missions? Come on, man. We're the Helldivers. We don't do that."
"No way!" the players roared in unison, their voices echoing through the ruins outside the power plant.
"Exactly! That's what I'm talking about!" Caseoh pointed enthusiastically, his energy ramping up. "Listen, chat—I mean, listen up, guys. Allies are allies, but if they want to snatch our missions, the Helldivers aren't made of clay! From this moment on, we don't stop for a second.
We're going to blitz every high-merit, high-difficulty mission. We're talking speedrun energy. By the time those Krieg guys get here, all that'll be left for them is the grunt work, bro!"
"Hell yeah! Let's go, Caseoh!" The players' morale skyrocketed. Their competitive spirit was fully ignited.
"No cap, no cap!" Caseoh was already moving, his enthusiasm infectious. "Move out! Now! Right now! Let's get it!"
Caseoh's company was just a microcosm of the entire Helldivers army. Now, most communication channels were no longer filled with idle chatter, only mechanical reports and urgent commands. Every company, regardless of their location or progress, acted as if they had been injected with stimulants, moving at an extraordinary pace.
Fresh from clearing the power plant, Caseoh's company didn't even take time to rest before diving headfirst into the deeper, abandoned mine shafts. The rock strata here were extremely unstable; rubble fell from above periodically, and the air was thick with the pungent stench of methane and sulfur.
"Bro, this is getting heated," Caseoh said, wiping sweat from his brow as the "Termite" tunneling machines pushed forward at near-limit speeds, their alloy drill bits emitting ear-piercing shrieks.
The players worked like robots on an assembly line, skillfully installing pre-fabricated supports and concrete slabs. Welding sparks flashed densely in the darkness, looking like countless miniature bonfires lit underground.
Occasionally, a player was crushed by falling rocks or collapsed from inhaling too much toxic gas. But seconds later, with a flash of white light, they would reappear in the same spot perfectly intact. They would grab their tools and plunge back into the frenzied construction as if their death had never happened. Caseoh nodded approvingly at the respawn.
"That's what I'm talking about! Get back in there!"
Another company was dispatched to an area soaked in corrosive liquids. Dark green fluid dripped from pipes above, sizzling as it ate through everything.
The players didn't care. Their gear was corroded until it was riddled with holes, and some even moved materials with their bare hands. When corrosive droplets landed on their skin, causing a scorched smell as their limbs melted, they remained indifferent.
They simply died, respawned, and pushed forward again. Using their bodies as shields to protect precious mechanical equipment, they raced against time to lay down new anti-corrosive layers and drainage systems.
"Yo, yo, yo! Look at these guys go!" Caseoh's voice crackled over comms, appreciative and hyped. "That's the Helldivers spirit right there, bro!"
In areas filled with unknown high-risk gases, explosions occurred one after another. But each blast only briefly interrupted the work.
Players would quickly assess the blast site, then sacrifice a few team members to intentionally detonate residual hazards—clearing obstacles in the fastest, most direct way possible.
Caseoh watched the progress bars on the datapads grow at a speed visible to the naked eye. High-merit missions were locked in first, then swarmed by hordes of fanatical players who used human-wave tactics to force breakthroughs.
"Chat would go crazy if they saw this," Caseoh muttered to himself with a laugh. "This is absolute chaos and I'm here for it."
Heavy Sentinel mechs charged through narrow tunnels, pushing massive steel beams and concrete blocks precisely into their slots. The blue beams of laser welding guns cut through the dark, securing metal structures firmly.
Geological scanners, scent analyzers, radiation detectors, and other engineering equipment were pushed to their limits, blaring warnings constantly—but most of the time, the players only gave them a glance before moving on.
They were like a swarm of worker bees, or a pack of predators crazed for prey. The arrival of the Krieg Korps, rather than making them feel relieved that the burden was being shared, had instead provoked an intense desire to win.
"Faster, faster, faster! This radiation zone is only three meters from completion! Don't let those Krieg guys snatch our merit!" Caseoh shouted into comms, his competitive fire burning bright.
"We need to reinforce this underground fissure immediately, we can't leave it for them!"
"Who's still alive? Come lend a hand! A high-pressure steam pipe burst here, we need to seal it now!"
Caseoh was laughing and talking rapid-fire, feeding off the energy of his team. "No way they're beating us, bro. No. Way. We're too cracked, we're moving too fast. This is peak performance right here!"
The entire underground of the old industrial zone was thick with the smell of earth, metal, corrosive fluid, and radioactive dust. But permeating through those scents was something even stronger: a feverish sense of efficiency and speed.
Using their lives and nearly infinite respawns, the Helldivers transformed the underground space—which the Krieg Korps had not yet set foot in—into a series of indestructible fortresses.
At the same time, they snatched up almost all the "lucrative" engineering tasks. They intended to ensure that when the Krieg soldiers finally arrived, they would find nothing to do except transport supplies and perform risk-free widening and digging on the foundations of tunnels that were already built.
This was a race of speed and sacrifice—and the Helldivers were clearly masters of the craft.