It was no exaggeration to say that the losses suffered by the Remnant forces during their clashes with the Elysian Crusaders and the Amazonians were unsustainable. They had lost thousands of men when their bunker complexes and the military bases built above them were barely capable of housing a battalion or two of marines per facility.
So one could call the fact that two entire battalions of Remnant forces had been utterly wiped out to the last man an unmitigated disaster. Of course, nobody really understood how the Marines sent to obliterate the Amazonians were disposed of.
Their power armor's built in helmet cameras detected a sudden ice storm, and then there was nothing. Utter darkness. By the time the reconnaissance teams found what remained of the Marines and their corpses. It was as if the entire section of the city had been hit by a missile.
Because of this, those in charge of the Remnant were scratching their heads, trying to figure out just what the fuck had happened. Needless to say the President of the United States, or so he called himself was having an absolute meltdown at the Governors of the Oregon and Arizona bunkers.
"Can someone please explain to me how even with their advanced equipment, we still managed to lose nearly 3,000 men engaging these outlaw forces? I was assured that the power armor was the answer to dealing with the threats from the outside world.
And now I'm being told that during both engagements with the enemy, our forces were wiped out by the last man. So tell me, please. Because I'm dying to know just how this could have happened to our men?"
Power armor was durable no doubt, and the weapons capable of wielding by such marines were indeed powerful. But the problem was the unpredictability of an awakened human's ability, or god forbid the superhuman nature of a Horde King, which even a Tier I Horde King would have no problem sending a battalion of power armor equipped marines straight to the afterlife.
The Remnant had invested a significant amount of time and resources into designing and manufacturing power armor. And it was not like they had the access to raw materials that they used to. Each set of power armor that was lost was a significant blow to the stockpile of resources that the Remnant had hoarded in their bunkers.
They were left with little choices on how to proceed. On the one hand, they could pack up what remained of their belongings and hightail it out of the ruins of Las Vegas, hoping and praying that somewhere out in the wasteland was a safer region they could call home.
Or... They could fortify the ruins of their settlement, and fight against whatever may come their way. The Amazonians, or at least what remained among their ranks argued ad nauseam about the best course of action.
They, of course, had no idea who had targeted them, and even if they were aware of the identity of the culprits, they had no means to retaliate. Their strength had been thoroughly shaken by the attack on their home.
Nobody really expected to see artillery employed in this day and age. And to such devastating effect. There had been a form of arrogance among the awakened, that the weapons of the old world no longer had any effect on them.
And while this might be true for those like Elena and the girls who had surpassed their human limits to some extent. To the point where they could easily evade a shell, or even survive a direct hit. Depending on what state they prioritized.
The reality was that they were the elites of humanity, their growth fostered by Zane, to the point where the next highest level of humans west of the Rockies were a full five levels below them at least.
Most awakened who had survived this long were still within the level 15-20 range. With only the exceptional among them being between level 20-25. Anyone above level 25 was either an urban legend, or was one of Zane's five lovers.
And because of this, those below such superhuman status were starting to realize how mistaken they actually had been. At least among the Amazonians. Ultimately, their debate about how to continue would be interrupted by a small group of undead. Whose desire was to profit off of the recent attack.