GATE: the clash of the titans

by Qun Nguyn1

A cataclysmic event has struck the Earth. An accident caused by the Empire expansionist dream. Reason and compassion , arrogant and ignorant which one will be the winner. Earth Alliance vs The Holy Empire. Science vs Magic. The power of the thousand sun vs The Beast of Apocalypse. Let the clash of Titans begin.

16. Chapter 16 : Deus Vult pt3

Chapter 16 : Deus Vult pt3

Current Situation In Falmart

With the return of the demon army and after many hellishly costing but markedly successful strikes by Imperial Air Command against the UEADF facilities, Sadera made a surprising offer to suspend air attacks against UEADF and to exchange prisoners to the Allies. There was no formal cease fire offered, the Allied "Unconditional Surrender" mantra was still in place and there was absolutely no sentiment in Allied capitals or in the Allied electorates for making peace with the Holy Empire, but the end of air attacks was very attractive to the Japanese, and the return of tens of thousands of Allied airmen from Imperial custody was too attractive to be ignored.

After extended negotiations brokered by the Falmartian Orthodox Church diplomats an agreement was reached that allowed any PoW who wished to remain in the country where they were being held to do so, and also provided for the release of any PoW still held in the Holy Empire custody, who wished to come to Earth to do so (with the offer to be made by Her Holiness Rory Mercury). Coupled with the release of PoWs was a one time deal that effectively paid UEA trillons of dollar to hire them to fight back the demon army, and an agreement to cease air attacks against population centers by both sides for a period of 100 earth days.

On April 12, 2030, the initial exchange of prisoners began; by the middle of April nearly 275,000 Allied prisoners and 194,000 Imperial and other Falmartian prisoners (virtually all of them airmen) had made the trip from Italica to Alnus or back. Nearly 2000 Allied prisoners, and close to 13,000 Falmartian prisoners (11,000+ of them from "National" militaries) chose to remain in the land of there former enemies.

This remarkable transfer of personnel was only possible due to the use of 2000, primarily UEAADF, V-45 Quadcopter Osprey that had been transferred from the US for the express purpose of making the exchange both possible and rapid. No one on Earth truly expected the Holy Empire to completely fulfill the agreement so speed was considered to be of the essence. Surprisingly, the de facto cease fire held, at least in the case of air operations.

In 2030, standard time, there were 3 major military forces in the planet of Falmart:

Numbers could be misleading, but in this case, provided insight into the relative strength of the belligerents in the run up to, and during the conflict.

Holy Darwinian Empire and its Suzerainty Allies

Population: 10 billion titanien and 10 billion homunculus slave labour.

GDP: 500 trillion Suwani.

In 52019 I.C, the Holy Darwinian Empire spent 9% of its GDP on defence, this rose drastically after the start of the Great War to around 40%. By the year 52031 I.C Imperial government military spending had peaked at 52% of the national GDP.

Before the opening of the GATE, Imperial government spending in 52018 represented 30% of GDP, or about 150 trillion Suwani . In 52030 at the beginning of the Great War, government spending had risen to over 400 trillion Suwani about 80% of the GDP.

Troops: 500 millions troops (this represents just Combat and directly combat related troops)

Total forces exceeded 3 billions when air force formations (including ground support), naval personnel, and logistical/support troops were included. This, of course, includes air defense units and fortress troops as well as Imperial forces deployed on the Lemuria Front and all along the Antarktyda-Andesen Line and Indyjski Wall as well as other paramilitaries

Vital materials : The statistics below illustrate the extent to which the Holy Darwinian Empire vastly outproduced the United Earth Alliance. Production of machine tools increased a thousand fold, and millions of ships were built in shipyards which did not exist before the war.

-Steel 7,8 trillion metric tons of steel each year.

This is compared to 87 billion tons for the United Earth Alliance. Falmart's 2030 steel production was equivalent to an average of 31,400 cubic meters of steel per second.

-Iceburst stone 5,5 trillion metric tons per year

-Titan crystal 1,5 trillion metric tons per year

-Titan oil 70 trillion barrels per day

-Enhanced ice : 25 trillion metric tons per year

-Concrete 24 trillion metric tons per year

-Aluminium 358 billion metric tons per year

-Orichalcum 55 billion metric tons per year

-Mithril 720 billion metric tons per year

-Adamant 302 billion metric tons per year

-Magic Gems 20 billion metric tons per year

According to Imperial Prime Minister, the 3rd Prince Diabo El Caesar, "We will win this Great War by smothering the enemy in an avalanche of production, the like of which he has never seen, nor dream possible."

Access to limitless raw materials in Path dimension and large, controlled Homunculus slave labour pools and the ability to build arms in relative safe undergound factories were the main reasons for the unimaginably large industrial output of the Holy Darwinian Empire.

Minister of Defence, the 2nd Prince Zorzal El Caesar declared, "Here's proof that no nation in history can out-produce our most Holy Empire."

United Earth Alliance in 2030

Population: 8 billion

Troops: 80 millions (this represents just Combat and directly combat related troops like landing craft drivers and Combat engineers) Total forces exceeded 400 millions when local defense volunteers, air force formations (including ground support), naval personnel, and logistical/support troops were included.

Deployed to the Falmart only : 75 million ( about six thousand divisions). All in armored units, fully mechanized, fully outfitted with tanks, armored personnel carriers, self-propelled artillery and salvo rocket launchers.

GDP : 110 trillion USD

In 2020, the UEA spent 15 % of its GDP on defence, this rose drastically after the start of the Great War to around 45%. By the year 2030 government defense spending had peaked at 55% of the national GDP. Debt and higher taxes led to GDP growth percentages over 17%. This trend continued throughout the war. For the UEA, government spending was used as a positive indicator of GDP growth. However the high rates of government only was beneficial for a short period of time, a trend that can be seen in most wars.

Price of war :

To pay for these wars, taxes were held at a very high rate. For example, at the beginning of the Great War tax rates went from 25% to 70%. Along with tax percentages reaching high amounts, spending on non-defense programs were cut in half during the period of the Great War.

The governments paid for this production using techniques of selling war bonds to financial institutions, rationing household items and creating more tax revenues. Some contribution to the UEA wartime manufacturing boom can be ascribed to the prior creation of the ArcelorMittal plant in the 2010s. The ArcelorMittal plant prepared million of tons of superharded steel used for the production of 600,000 aeroplanes during the Rearmament Period. The United Earth Alliance quickly adjusted to the levels of production required to equip its military with the billions of war products used during the Great War.

Employment :

During the Great War unemployment had fallen to 0.3% from 14.6% in 2019. 20% of the population during the war was employed within the armed forces.

The beginning years of the Rearmament shows a spike in employment. The employment spike was in relation to the tremendous amount of military production the UEA was making.

Examples of high numbers of employment could have been seen in at Gulf Shipbuilding which obtained 240 employees at the beginning of 2019 and increased to 116,000 employees in 2023. Alabama Dry dock also was an exemplary business in employment that raised number from 1,000 workers to 300,000 in the most productive years of the Rearmament Period.

Demographics of employment consisted of 400 million women, adding to the 1200 million that searched for defensive jobs outside of the war.

Rearmament:

During the Rearmament Period, UAE set ambitious production goals to fulfill. The early 2021 were set to have 60,000 new jet aircraft increasing to 125,000 in 2023. In addition, targets for the production of 120,000 heavy tanks and 55,000 helicopters were set during the same time period.

The Tesla Motor Company in Texas built one motor car (comprising 150,000 parts) on the assembly lines every 69 seconds. Tesla's production contributed to America's total production of vehicles totalling 30 million in 2023. Earth's production numbers caused the global employed workforce to increase massively.

Earth's manufacturers in the Great War were engaged in the greatest military industrial effort in history. Aircraft companies went from building a handful of planes at a time to building them by the tens of thousands on assembly lines.

In 2019, total aircraft production for the Earth's military was less than 3,000 planes. By the end of the Rearmament Period, Earth produced 600,000 planes. No war was more industrialized than the Great Earth-Falmart War. It was a war won as much by machine shops as by machine guns.

The United Earth Alliance Navy grew rapidly during the Rearmament Period from 2019–2029, and played a central role in the war against the Falmartian Empire. The UEAMDF grew tremendously as the United Earth Alliance was faced with a two-front war on the seas. By rearmament's end in 2029, the UEAMDF had added over 18,000 major combatant ships, including nearly 1500 aircraft carriers, 345 guided missile battleships, and over 5000 destroyer, with over 100,000 naval vessels of 1,000 tons or greater.

The Forces of Chaos:

Population: Uncountable ( hundreds of trillions )

Technology level : Bronze Age

Total forces exceeded 60 trillions when all 6,666 Great Armies of Chaos were assembled.

Troops would be deployed to Falmart: 999,000 legions in Abbadon's personal army ( nearly 10 billions )

Currently deployed to Falmart : Abigor's 60,000 legions, a total force of over 600 million demons if Abigor's own command staff were included.

---

Throne Room, Infernal Palace of Dis, Eye of Terror.

"And exactly how did they spontaneously explode?" Abbadon's voice had a silky, oily quality to it that was far more unnerving than any of his berserk rages.

"We don't know Sire. We found bits of metal in the wreckage so we think it was one of the human machines but we don't understand it."

"A machine? A human machine you say? They invaded my territory and killed four of my subjects not with holy magic but a machine?" The silky, oily quality was fading, replaced by the hysterical screams of rage. The audience found that immensely reassuring, it was business as usual. The unnatural calm had been horrifying from its unprecedented nature. A raving, screaming temper tantrum was much more familiar. "And nobody saw it?"

"None Sire. Although we do have a message that was transmitted by one of their warlords. It refers to a A4 Predator aircraft."

"And just what is a Predator?" Abbadon was struggling to keep his temper under control.

"A hunting bird." The voice came from a tiny minor demon on the floor. Abbadon glanced sideways and his glance mashed the speaker into a purple pulp that drained away through the stone floor.

"Does anybody else want to state the obvious?" There was a sudden shuffling of cloven feet and demons glancing sideways at each other. The more astute of them were already trying to work out the best place to take cover when their infernal overlord decided it would be necessary to stage a massacre.

"There is another problem with that message." Asmodeus spoke carefully. "The warlord spoke of 'major enemy leadership figure', we assume that means an important person here. Yet there was nobody on that stand of any importance, a few relatives of Abigor, that is all. None in the leadership and none of any importance. We do not understand this."

"Perhaps I can explain." Beelzebub was also speaking carefully. "The warlord also spoke of 'information received from reliable informants'. There can be only one explanation for that comment. There are those of your Infernal Majesty's subjects who are in contact with the Terran humans and are passing information to them."

A horrified gasp went around the hall. The whole concept was a nightmare to contemplate yet was also eerily plausible. Who here had not sold information on an ally to an enemy in order to bring about a tactical advantage?

"But Sire." Asmodeus was appalled, his voice terrified at even speaking of this idea. "Nobody important was killed."

"Nobody important perhaps." Beelzebub spoke almost as smoothly and calmly as Abbadon had done. "Not in our terms perhaps. But the traitor – or traitors – who sold the information to the humans may have been using them to settle a private score of his or her own. Who knows where treason might end?"

Even Abbadon was silenced by that thought. The hall was still, silent as the occupants absorbed the implications of what Beelzebub had said. Then, the glances that they were exchanging underwent a slow change from apprehension at what might Abbadon might do next to suspicion at what their neighbors might be saying to these upstart humans. No matter how intense those suspicious glances became, they couldn't match the ones Abbadon was casting at them.

---

Operation Trinity Headquarters, Alnus, Lemuria

General Nuttall stood before the transmission screen and waited for it to light up with the link from New York. His briefing would be going direct to the command center in the New York and to as many of the growing list of allies as could be provided with the equipment.

"Mister President Sir. My situation report.

"We have identified the enemy force as 56 infantry Fronts, three cavalry Fronts and one airborne Front. The enemy main body consists of 28 infantry Fronts and is advancing towards Alnus.

It is preceded by one of the cavalry Fronts supported by 3 airborne Army Groups. The cavalry Front itself is split into three columns each containing three cavalry Army Groups supported by three airborne Armies. At the moment, we are falling back in front of that force, we have no wish to engage it at this time.

"To the West is a flanking force consisting of 14 infantry Fronts. They're moving close to the Kowan Kingdom border, again with a cavalry Front in front supported by harpies. We've been harassing that screening force overnight, I'm sorry to report that the 160th Aviation Brigade took significant losses, at least a dozen AT-99 and Apache helicopters were lost to Harpies.

We've learned from that, the Harpies make helicopter operations too dangerous, we're going to have to eliminate them before we can send helicopter-based forces in again. However, their sacrifice was not in vain, we're driving their reconnaissance elements in on the main body and we've severely hit their command and control structure. We believe we've eliminated a significant proportion of their battalion and brigade level command staff. An Army Group of the 1st Armored Joint Task Force is moving into position along the Qaim-Ali line. It's a perfect kill zone, with their recon element driven in, their heading into it blind.

"To the East is another screening force, identical to the one in the West7. We haven't done much about that one yet but the British are moving up an Army Group to handle it. We had word from the East Asian 11th Expeditionary Army a few minutes ago, Her Holiness Rory Mercury went solo an entire infantry Army with a combined of wide-ranging attacks. She claim to have killed more than 90,000 demons including a part of the command group. We can't confirm the numbers but a MQ-90 has confirmed the attack." Nuttall paused for a second. "Sir, I still can't get used to feeling pleased about the presence of Her Holiness.

"Overall, we're about to start the main phase of our defense. We're going to kick the western and eastern screening forces in and push them back on the main body. That will put them in a kill zone east of the Sula Lake. As we compress them in that area, we'll be hitting them with artillery and all the tactical air we can bring up. If we stop them, we can drive them back across the grassland, all the way back to the Hellgate. If we can't stop them there, the only way forward is through two narrow necks of land, north of the Baral Milhm and south of the Buhayra Thafar. Those are also perfect killing grounds and give us a another chance at them."

"They won't get through?" President Dirrel sounded concerned. The heavily populated Alnus Base was in the direct path of the advancing demons.

"No Sir, we'll stop them dead. After a while, all their added numbers means they'll be piling more bodies into the kill zone. The days when an army could be swamped by sheer weight of numbers are gone. The way we're mauling their command structure, once they've started advancing into the killing ground, they won't be able to stop, the sheer pressure of the forces at the rear will drive them forward."

"General." Secretary of state Susan Collins smiled an apology for the interruption. "Be advised, we've just heard from the Russians. They're sending down forces from their military region as your requested. An Army Groups, battle experienced from Northern Lemuria. They'll be with you in a few days, you can count on them for reinforcements."

"Thank you ma'am, that's good to know. If you're speaking to the Russians, could you ask them for all of their Smerch rocket launchers. We need all the salvo rocket artillery we can get here. Also, their Luna short-range ballistic missiles, we've got ATACMS here but we need something with a bit more reach."

"I'll do that. The Holy Order of Eden are promising to send help as well. Any requests?"

"Fuel and Feilong Elorp (Echo-Location by Radiant Psion) guided magic missiles. Those more than anything. We're going to need all the fuel and guided missiles we can get. We're expecting to use up our stocks of AGM and AMRAAM missiles pretty fast at the rate we're going and we can't cope with these demons in a slugging match, we have to maneuver them to death."

Wadi Town, Southern Lemuria

"Now hollow fires burn out to black, and lights are guttering low. Square your shoulders, lift your pack, and leave your friends and go. Oh, never fear, man, nought's to dread, look not to left nor right: In all the endless road you tread, there's nothing but the night."

"Sorry Sir?"

"Houseman, poem called 'A Shropshire Lad' about the kids who died fighting for Queen Victoria in far-off parts of the Empire. How they left home and died for thirteen pence a day. His theme was that they couldn't see what they were dying for or the point of it all. We're spared that, we know what we're fighting for here." General John Carlson glanced down at his watch.

"Today. When dawn comes, we will be fighting for everything there is to fight for. There's literally nothing we won't be fighting for."

"That's true Sir." Simon deVere Cole, Carlson's Aide-de-camp was speaking equally softly. "We're fighting for Queen and Country. For our people, for the whole of humanity and even for some otherworld people. At least this time the" gods " and their servants are on our side and apparently they pay us very well."

"That's good. I wish there were just a few more of those warrior priests." That was the truth. Carlson had the 12th British Army Groups here, The Victorian Guards, 3 Armies of Type-92 and Type-47 tanks, were dug in along the long defense lines, with the 1st Duke of Lancaster and 1st Mercian, two Armies of heavy mechanized infantry with their heavy infantry fighting vehicles, beside them.

From the front, all that could be seen of them was the tops of their turrets peeking over the ridge. From behind, the tanks were sitting in open-backed revetments so they could fall back from this position to the next. Carlson looked up at the stars overhead. It was a trite cliche that looking up at them made man and his works seem insignificant and now it was a false cliche as well.

For today, man's works made the heavens themselves insignificant. And Carlson had just 3 Armies of heavy tanks and two Armies of heavy mechanized infantry. Plus his artillery divisions of course and a lot of engineers. One advantage of a "colonial conquest" mission was that there were a lot of civilian development projects involved and they had needed engineers. Those engineers had been hard at work for the last few days.

Out in front, he could see the result of their labors. A shimmering river that stretched east and west as far as he could see, glistening gently in the moonlight. This place has 6 moons, what a beautiful sight to behold. It was a beautiful sight if one didn't know what the silver river was, to those who had seen what nano razor-wire could do, it glimmered with evil promise. Yet even worse was what nobody could see until it was too late, the tens of millions of anti-personnel and anti-tank mines sewn across the frontline.

Carlson's plan was quite simple, all good military plans were. He would break the enemy attack on the minefields and nano wire while his artillery and magicians poured fire into the mass of enemy hung up in front of him. As they broke through the mines and wire, as they surely would, his tanks would slaughter them while the infantry and wizards protected the tanks. The wire and the mines were his force multiplier, the thing that would allow him to stand against the force threatening him.

He ran those figures through his mind as well, 140 millions infantry, 10 millions cavalry, 3,3 millions harpies. Against them, he had just over 800,000 men and 1000 mages. The government in the UK had promised him more, but they were a long time coming.

The RAF had only 20 C-177 ULTRA transports and their first priority had been to fly anti- telepathy mithirl foil out from the Holy Order's underground factories to the theater. Every man in his force now had his helmet lined with anti-demon mithirl foil and the people in the rear were handing rolls of the stuff out to the civilians. In a strange way, this was already shaping up to be one of the great logistics achievements of the war. A concerted effort to give every human on Falmart his own mithirl foil hat. Carlson chuckled, he suddenly had a picture of mithirl haberdashery becoming a study topic at Sandhurst.

"Sir. General Qasem Soleimani to see you." deVere Cole interrupted the train of thought.

"General, Sir." Carlson snapped out the salute the Five-star General. The Iranian General returned it punctiliously.

"I think you will be pleased to see me General." The English was excellent. "I have brought with me the Shamshar Armored Joint Task Force. Six Armies of Chariot MBTs, 32,400 tanks, of my are moving into position along your left while we speak, supported by 2 Armies of heavy armored infantry, 16,200 T-15 Armata's. We have not the excellent position you have here but the MQ-90 Quox tell us the enemy will strike your position first. When they die on your wire, we think they will try and flank you. They cannot go to your right, the Sula Lake prevents that. They must go to the left, right into the guns of my tanks and artillery."

"We're more than pleased to see you General, you're a sight for sore eyes. We're expecting to get hit after dawn. That glow on the horizon? It's the Demon's campfires." A thought occurred to Carlson. "Have all your men had mithril foil for their helmets? We have plenty if you are in need."

"The Americans gave us enough, thank you, but I will spread word. If any of my units are short, we will come to you. If I may offer you some help in return? You are very light on anti-aircraft here. I have 10 extra anti-aircraft divisions, the Shamshar is a composite Task Force, made up from the best units in the Arab Union Ninth Army Front. I would be honored if you would accept the attachment of the divisions to your force. They have MANPADS and Pantsir-S2 missiles."

"Thank you, I am honored to accept. General, I was about to have some tea, a little fruit. It is poor refreshment to offer a comrade in arms, but perhaps you would deign to join us?"

"I would prefer a glass of the whisky for which your Scots are so famous." Carlson lifted an eyebrow and Soleimani smiled gently. "The pact is broken, the commandments do not apply. Now we have faith only in our tanks and guns."

Like any good ADC deVere Cole had anticipated his General's needs and a bottle of 18 year old Laphroig had appeared. He measured out glasses for the two officers.

"Oh come on Simon, pour one for yourself as well."

"Thank you Sir."

To the morrow and may the day be ours." Carlson's voice rang across the moonlit grassland.

"And to our arms. May we bring honor to our countries and those we fight beside." Soleimani's response echoed across the hills. Below them, the razor wire seemed to sway in response but it was just the wind rippling across the grass.

Operation Trinity Headquarters, Alnus, Lemuria

General of the Armies, the highest possible rank in the United States Army, Liam Nuttall stood in front of the great screen that showed the disposition of forces in Southern Lemuria. Viewed one way, what he was about to do was committing an act of mass murder. The thought made him chuckle quietly to himself, a long time ago he'd held a press conference and the subject of night vision equipment had come up. The American officer behind the podium had explained how the U.S. Army had night vision equipment that enabled them to fight a 24-hour battle while their enemy didn't have anything approaching that capability. One journalist had been greatly angered by that and had launched a tirade about how the one-sided night-fighting capability "wasn't fair."

Well, what was happening now wasn't fair either. The screen showed the disposition and order of battle of the Hellish forces in great detail. The A4 Predators and MQ-90 Quox were doing sterling work, tracking every move the demons made. Zoom down far enough and the display could show how and where individual demons were deploying and spending their time. It was painfully obvious that the demons had no such capability.

They were charging head-first into a trap, unwavering, unconcerned with what the humans were doing. Nuttall was doing his best to help them, his aircraft had been carefully hitting the command structure of the enemy forces, slowly but surely breaking up their ability to adapt to changing circumstances.

It was far worse even than that. The demons were moving slowly, as a professional, Nuttall recognized them for what they were, an infantry army that moved like one. Slowly, ponderously. They had their cavalry out as screens of course but it was a myth that cavalry forces could move much faster than leg infantry, they could in a tactical sense but the difference strategically was marginal at best. The harpies had been more of a worry, there had been an effort to use them as an advance guard but they'd been shot out of the sky by the J-86s based at Military District 3 and 6. The small detachments, usually 30 at a time hadn't stood a chance against the fast jets and after a while, their commander had stopped sending them out.

In contrast, the Allied forces were mobile almost to the point of insanity. They could slash at an enemy formation, disengage, regroup and slash again while their enemy was still wondering what to do about the first attack. Nuttall had moved the whole of his First Armored Joint Task Force against the western flanking force.

Nuttall grimaced, the western force was identical to that bearing down on the British 12th Army Groups but the British formation was the weakest of all of his combat groups. It was a calculated risk, nobody could be strong everywhere and the British position was the easiest to defend in depth. If the demons broke through there, Nuttall had two Army Groups from the European Fourth Army Front north of the battle area and the Chinese 82nd Fire Dragon Army Groups in Military District 5 ready to pinch off the breakthrough.

In the center, Nuttall had positioned his 25th Armored Joint Task Force, the 10th Mechanized Joint Task Force and the 15th Army Groups.

They were his stop line, intended to hold the main body of the demon force. Only, Nuttall didn't intend to stop them If the demon commander had anything like the command capabilities at Nuttall's disposal he could have seen what the American General actually had in mind. The main body of the demon force would indeed be pinned on the American force in front of Alnus but while they threshed there, the allied western and eastern forces would be closing in on their flanks and rear. By the time they realized what was happening, the racing tanks of the First Armored would be between them and the Hellgate. It had all the makings of a military catastrophe.

Nuttall knew that if he pulled this off, it would go down as one of the greatest envelopments of all time, comparable with those the Germans had pulled off at the start of their war with Russia.

That was one of the things that made Nuttall uneasy, for all the scale of those early victories, the Germans had lost the war with Russia and most skilled strategists knew that they had never really had a chance of doing otherwise. What was facing the demons was an unparalleled military disaster yet Nuttall knew in his heart that this was just the opening move. He had no idea of the military resources hell could throw at Falmart and until he had a handle on that data, he was fighting blind. All he could do was make sure the casualty rate was as lopsided as possible.

"Sir. Message just in. The Arabian Shamshar Armored Joint Task Force is arriving and taking up position to the east of the British. They'll be in defensive position by dawn. General Soleimani has ceded operational command of the defense to General Carlson as officer-in-position."

"Thank you Charles. Send my compliments to the General and my appreciation of an advance to contact well-executed." There was more to that message than met the eye and the recipient would know it. Ceding overall command to an officer of lesser rank had been a magnanimous gesture, one that spoke volumes about the character of the Iranian general. Privately, Nuttall promised himself that he would see Soleimani received full credit for his part in this operation. Then his mind went back to the battle that was about to unfold. What could go wrong? What hadn't he foreseen? What were his options when everything dropped in the pot?

He looked again at the huge display on the wall. Eight new symbols had just appeared, the Arabian army groups covering the eastern flank of the British Force. Everything was set up, the pieces were in position. Behind the allied lines, the truck convoys with their supplies of ammunition and fuel were waiting to support the lunge forward.

With them were his reserves, heavy tank divisions, more mechanized infantry. Again Nuttall reflected on just how unfair this battle was going to be. A human general would have known how and where the great ambush would be mounted, to a human, brought up on armored warfare and battles of maneuver, the Lemurian road network made the positions and deployments entirely predictable. The demons painfully obviously had no concept of those matters. Truly, this was a bronze age Army fighting a force from the 21st Century. That didn't change the fact that this was a – literally – hellishly big bronze age army.

"I'm going outside for a few minutes. Get some fresh air." Nuttall spoke to his deputy, settled his mithril-lined baseball cap on his head and left the command center, his bodyguards following.

Outside, it was still night, the stars shining brightly down. In front of the command building sat four of the hulking Type-92 Chamberlain tanks, silent shadows in the darkness. Nuttall walked over to them, absent-mindedly returning the salutes from their crews as he racked his brain trying to think of outcomes and eventualities that might have missed his attention. It was no good, as far as he could see, he'd done all he could, it was time to rest and let the battle unfold. Then he patted the massive sloping armor of the nearest tank. "Well, honey-bunny. It's all down to you and yours now."

Headquarters, Army of Abigor, Southern Lemuria

Abigor stood over the wooden table, looking down at the parchment scroll that was pinned to it. It was a map of the area, with thick lines drawn on it, representing his forces as they fanned out across the countryside. His plan was simple, three thrusts, each aimed at a major population center. His mounted troops would brush any enemy opposition out of the way and leave the cities isolated. Then, his infantry would besiege them, cut off their supplies and starve the defenders. When the cities collapsed, they would storm the walls and ravage the inhabitants amid scenes of horror that would panic the remaining residents. They would stream away from his advance amid utter terror and he would slaughter them while they did so. Mortals would die screaming for its defiance. As it should.

Where to go next? Once the fertile crescent of the the Odiha-Salta had been cleared, what to do? Keep heading into Kowan Kingdom or head towards Alnus Hill ? Ravaging the area the mortals called "The Holy Land" would be satisfying and it would give Abbadon an opportunity to goad The 13 Gods of Falmart over the fate of their "Sacred Hill". That made Abigor grin.

Abigor tapped the parchment with a claw, thoughts irritating the outer edges of his mind. Just why did his commanders keep exploding? Obviously the humans had something to do with it, putting things together it had become obvious that the commanders exploded when the human's flying chariots were around. Yet how? The chariots flew so high up they could hardly be seen. Sometimes the only clue they were there was the great white streak they left across the sky. How could they hit so precisely from so high? It was impossible.

Abigor's customary scowl deepened. Perhaps it wasn't the humans after all. Promotion by assassinating one's superiors was a well-known tactic in hell, smiles upon as long as it was successful. A commander who couldn't even protect himself was unfit to be in a position of authority. And yet, and yet… Some commanders had noted another pattern, it was always the leaders who rode ahead of their command, their banners flying proudly that died. Some had started to hide themselves in their units, keeping their banners furled and marching on foot like the rest. It showed lack of pride and hurt the morale of the units but those commanders lived.

Problems, more problems. The truth was that Abigor wasn't quite sure where his units were or how much resistance they were facing. The distance he and his kind could read minds was limited to line-of-sight and with so many dead commanders lost from his ranks, communications were spotty at best.

He'd tried sending out small groups of the flying demons to get information on the positions of his units but the human flying chariots had killed them.

Those flying chariots were a nuisance, they'd made the demonic fliers too vulnerable to use except in large groups. Just how did humans get them to fly so high or move so fast? Some of them were so quick they arrived before their noise could be heard.

Abigor stretched and walked outside his tent, his clawed feet clicking on the stones in the grass . Above him, the stars shone brightly, their light apparently amplified by the clear skies. That was a unique thing about this dimension, Abigor's home had no stars, no planets, not like these. It was a place that existed in and of itself, self-contained and alone. Bubbles in a formless void.

Abigor wondered what would happen to this planet once the mortals on it had been harvested. It would make a nice private retreat for his personal use, would Abbadon allow him to keep it? He had conquered it after all. In his heart, he knew that would not be the case, Abbadon wouldn't allow any of this realm to establish a presence outside it for to do so would be to give them the chance of establishing a power base independent of his reign.

This planet would be abandoned, left to develop without intelligent life. Perhaps to see another species of intelligent life develop and in its turn be harvested to serve the beings from the higher dimension. Abigor had heard that there were creatures living in the sea that were almost as intelligent as a human.

Another problem, another worry that flittered on the edge of his mind. He and his kind were used to being able to read human minds and control their thoughts, even across the dimensional rift. Once he and another demon had held a competition to see who could cause the most minor fatal accidents in one day; he'd won that, 106 to 102.

But now, it was becoming harder and harder to find humans who could be affected by the demons mind control. Something was getting in the way, something was stopping the demons possessing the minds of anybody they chose. Already, nearly all the important people, the leaders, their minds were closed off. Even the lesser people, the peasants, were becoming immune. It was so hard to find one who could be possessed now. This must be the work of those cursed Apostles.

Abigor shook himself. Why was he worrying, a few days and it would all be over. The population would be a panicked mass, fleeing for its survival and a few days beyond that it would be gone forever. There wasn't any point in worrying about details.

The Victorian Guards, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

"Time to mount up." Guardsman Bass finished the last of his tea and shook his mug over the sand. His Type-47 Sheridan was ready to move, one of the 5,600 tanks lined up along the defense line. It was still dark but the eastern horizon was glowing red as the sun approached it's first appearance. That's why the tanks were along this ridge, with the sun behind them the demons would be advancing with the glare of the dawn directly in their eyes. It was a small point perhaps but the officers were paid to think of things like that. He climbed up on to his tank and slid into the turret beside the 130mm gun, settling comfortably into the familiar seat. "Boiling vessel on?"

The loader nodded, the tank was going to seal down, they'd fight that way. Nobody knew what the demons would do when they found themselves under fire so orders were to expect the worst and make sure the tea urn was ready to use. Bass felt his ears click as the positive-pressure system powered up. The air inside the tank was at a higher pressure than that outside so that if there were any leaks in the tank, the flow would be out, not in. They had rations, everything they needed without depending on the outside world. They even had some empty cases from the artillery so they could relieve themselves without leaving their armored home.

"Sabre-One Actual." Lieutenant McLeoud's voice was calm, studied. "All Sabre One units. Confirm sealed down."

Bass thumbed his transmitter button. "Sabre One-two sealed down."

"Very good. Recon tells us the demons are moving, straight at us." There was immense satisfaction in the Lieutenant's voice now. 'Straight at us' meant straight into the minefields and on to the razor wire. We will be opening fire at 10,000 meters with HEAD (High Explosive Anti-Demon). Aimed shots only boys, we can't waste ammunition. Hold Fast!"

The last words were McLeoud's family motto, repeated with almost boyish enthusiasm. Young officers bass thought, a little patronizingly, a little sadly. So keen, so likely to die. "You heard our Lieutenant. Load HEAD."

"Up." The one word meant that the 130mm gun was loaded, ready to fire. Bass leaned forward slightly and peered through his commander's periscope. Even in the brief time since they'd mounted up, the sun had risen enough to start lighting the battle area. Across the dunes, Bass saw a section of the horizon turn black. Demons crossing it in strength, a great rectangle of them. He knew the numbers, 1000 ranks, each of 9,999 demons, spreading 25 km long.

This was the cavalry, their advance guard. As he watched the great rectangle changed, splitting into three thinner rectangles, the two at the rear moving up either side of the lead so they formed an extended line. Then the rectangles split again, into three sections, one behind the other. The numbers played in Bass's head, 1,1 millions in each sections, almost 3,3 millions in each of the three closely packed waves. This would be a bloody day, Bass had read the intelligence on the demons and of their wild, primary color blood. So what color would the blood be?

"They're charging by division." Bass lased the formations that were approaching at steadily-increasing speed. "Range 19,500 meters. They're not holding formation very well. No discipline there at all." A critical point, a charge had to hit as a solid blow, a fist formed of every available asset. If the charging cavalry were ill-disciplined enough to allow their formation to break, the strength of the blow would be much reduced.

Daelmara's Force, Right Flank of the Army of Abigor

Utilizing the momentum gained from their cavalry charges, Abigor army's trump card, their long-range military force: the demon ogres archer forces and Daelmara's dark arts legions advanced to a position behind their cavalry camp.

The plan was to have the 100 thousand strong chaos ogre unit ready their massive crossbows in front and the dark arts users, also 100 thousand strong, chant their offensive magic behind. The one assuming overall command was an adept arts user close to Daelmara.

That arts user listened to the commands coming in from the rear and nodded once before shouting.

"Ogre unit, ready your crossbow! Arts unit, begin chanting for the «Chaos Release : Wide-area Incineration Projectiles» ceremony! Spotters, begin chanting the marking art for the enemy coordinates!"

Chaos Release : Wide-area Incineration Projectiles referred to a large-scale annihilation spell designed by demon lord Daelmara. for the sake of this plan. Converting all of the darkness energy filling the battlefield into thermal elements, they would then achieve firing it at long distances by affixing them onto the ogres' arrows. As they consumed darkness energy through transformation phrases like «bird shape» or «arrow shape», the output should far exceed their expectations. It was the mightiest offensive art in history.

In addition, Daelmara had prepared a careful plan to make use of dark arts users excelling in wind magic as spotters, creating «wind paths» for concentrated fire on the enemy army's main force. If all of the incineration arrows impacted upon a single point, it should result in an attack of extreme power that not even that an Apostle could guard against perfectly.

That was the exact situation that the Rory Mercury once feared, the strength of millions overwhelming the strength of one.

The 121st Wing of Dragon Knights , above the Victorian Guards.

The dragons let out yet another low growl.

However, this time was one to warn, with a sharp roar mixed in.

Knight Leader Alicia mustered her will, taking back her consciousness that had begun to fade, and stared hard towards the twilight far in front.

—They are here!

Fresh troops approached at the battlefield, steady pace from beyond the cavalry forces still charging at the Defense Army. She could see no metallic glint. They were likely the long ranged attack unit—the Dark Sorcerer Legions.

They were the ones Her Holiness Rory Mercury was most vigilant towards, those who held sufficient destructive power to sweep away an army in one strike.

However, the same could be said of the 240 knights in the 121st Wing of Dragon Knights of the Zeroth Division.

Alicia and her knights had been chanting for a large-scale holy magic. It was conceptualized after hearing of Cardinal Fanatino's battle against the demons in the 12th Black Crusade, what might be called a «reflected light amplification» magic.

With the mass of sacred energy, as a base, Alicia first changed the shape of crystal elements and created a gigantic glass ball measuring three meters across.

Next, she created a thick metal film with metallic elements and shielded the entire glass ball.

The product was a «sealed mirror». Placing that onto the fitting gap between dragon's wings on her back, she pushed both hands onto its smooth, curved surface, and sealed in luminous elements generated from the constantly produced space sacred energy.

Magic preservation.

That was a basic yet ultimate technique that many high ranking magic users racked their minds over since ancient times.

Without constantly fixing one's mind onto them, generated magic elements like thermal, cryogenic, and aerial elements would drift about the area on their own volition and eventually vanish, scattering as hot or cold air.

Hence, Alicia explored means to maintain the produced elements without the need to focus on them. What first came to mind was to set them into some vessel. That said, the standard elements for offensive arts, thermal and cryogenic, would instantly disappear upon coming into contact with some material, heating it up or cooling it down.

However, an idea came to Alicia when she heard about how Duncan: God of Blacksmithing had reflected the light from Flare: God of the Sun's divine weapon, the «Heaven Piercing Sword», with a magical mirror created from just metallic and crystal elements in a small spar between the gods.

If light did no more than rebound upon touching a magic mirror—she would only have to produce a fully sealed magic mirror.

And if she were to generate luminous elements within it. It could, theoretically, maintain an infinite number of luminous elements until the mirror's Life expired.

Daelmara's Force, Right Flank of the Army of Abigor

The crossbow, drawn to their limits, by the brawny ogre archers creaked as they were pointed towards the dim sky.

In order to ignite the innumerous arrowheads, gleaming dully, the 100 thousand dark arts users held their hands up high as they recited the opening phrase as one.

"""Chaos Release""""

The incantation consisting only of female voices could be called only a chorus of death. Intoxicated by the immense power it was to be, the arts users sang the next phrase.

"""Wide-area Incineration Projectiles !"""

Faint red particles flickered as they lit up on their lithe fingers—

Yet it was but an instant before they turned dull, extinguishing after letting out a modest puff of smoke.

The adept arts user commanding the unit could not immediately understand what had happened and recited the incantations once more. But the result remained the same.

Surprise overcame her while bewildered voices from her subordinates reached her ears.

"We cannot create the thermal elements!"

"We cannot initiate the «Wide-area Incineration Projectiles» ceremony at this rate!"

She scanned the surroundings in pursuit of the cause of the phenomenon and her close aide nearby timidly opened her mouth to speak.

"C-Commander… shouldn't it be due to some kind of Anti-magic Field…?"

"H-How could that possibly be?!" The commander shouted out in shock. Unknown to the demons, the Holy Order had secretly placed a massive anti-magic field beneath them.

No one had an answer to that question. The chaos ogre archers, too, grew irritated with the command to fire delay and could simply continue to keep their crossbows drawn.

The 121st Wing of Dragon Knights , 10,000 meters above the Victorian Guards.

The time had arrived.

Alicia shut her eyes for a moment and prayed to Flare: God of the Sun for his blessing.

The silver sphere with a diameter of three meters on the dragon's sturdy back had its pressure raised to its maximum. Pulling away the two hands in contact with it, she drew her sword from the left of her waist.

"—Bloom, flowers! Holy Enhanced Armament!"

Her sonorous shout divided the blade of her divine weapon, the «Holy Sword of Acacia », in countless small orbs. Maneuvering the golden yellow swarm, she instructed the knight dragon.

"Mayori, lower your head!"

Following her orders, the flying dragon inclined forward. The silver sphere quietly rolled and tumbled off the dragon's head into the air after one revolution. Carefully catching it with the small orbs, she adjusted it until a certain point on the silver sphere was directed diagonally downwards.

Alignment… set.

Drawing in a breath, she whispered.

"…Burst ."

An incantation far too short and plain for a spell holding such terrifying power.

The silver, reflective sphere was made with one spot thinner on purpose.

Focusing the immense light and heat from the countless exploding luminous elements onto that one point, the silver film and glass liquefied into a crimson red.

Letting them loose into the world outside with a shrill explosion.

240 pure white pillars , each measuring five meters wide, fell upon the earth from the skies with extreme speed and stabbed in between the ogres archer forces and dark arts legions . It then made its way farther into Daelmara's position as though nudged gently.

A roaring symphony of several thousand bells rang out as the waves of heat and light grew to encompass the entire battlefield. It became a towering pillar of fire immediately after, practically touching the clouds, and dyed the skies red. The unprecedently large-scale attack launched by the 121st Wing have ruthlessly wiped out ninety percent of the ogre archers, and over seventy percent of the dark arts users units.

Assailed by the recoil from firing that exceptionally powerful magic, Alicia returned the Holy Sword of Acacia to its scabbard immediately before collapsing onto Mayori's back.

The flying dragon gently accepted its master before tracing slow spirals as it descended onto the front most lines of the British 12th Army Groups.

The first one to rush in was the Warmaster of the Zeroth Division : Cardinal Augusta Henry Highland. Reaching out both arms, he caught Alicia who slipped off her dragon.

"…That spell and display of incarnation was magnificent, Alicia."

B-52M Bomber over the Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

"Lion-Leader, the enemy are moving. Engage airborne threats as detected."

Major General Hooshank Sedigh looked around at the other Bommbers making up his formation. The last weeks had been strange, after months of sour hostility, the airfields around Alnus had seen a constant stream of magic airships landing as the Falmartian Orthodox Church shipped in supplies of fuel and missiles for the UEAADF.

"Be advised, Indian Air Force B-36Zs are closing on your position from Omidiyeh."

What a weird mixture of types and technologies. It was lucky the American AWACS birds were up, keeping sense of it all. "Tu-688s approaching from the 6th Military District."

"We have first target group on scan now. They are stacked behind lead ground element, estimated number approximately 1,450,000. Lion Group will engage. Fire at will." Sedigh swelled with satisfaction, his 2400 B-52Ms were Lion Group. They would fire the first shots of the Battle of Acrifa Sky.

First Army, First Armored Joint Task Force, Tel Ash Sha, Southern Lemuria

"It's starting." Major General Sean MacFarland looked at the electronic displays in his command center. He'd zoomed in on Acrifa Plain where the map was showing the first of the Demon formations moving up. They were leading with their cavalry down there, just like they were doing here. MacFarland zoomed out, moved his point of display up to Tel Ash Sha then flipped the display mode from synthetic to raw video. The pictures from the MQ-90 Quox showed the demon cavalry shift from a solid block to a column of three long lines. The British had placed their faith in wire and minefields to stop the initial push but MacFarland was relying on his artillery. It wasn't as if he was short of it.

Command General Frank L. Graham picked up the microphone. "All Ready First units, now here this. The enemy is moving. These are the bastards who thought we'd just knuckle under to their wishes. Well, they're wrong and we're going to show them just how wrong. We're going to teach them what American values stand for. We'll show them the meaning of truth, justice and the American way, and by the last of those I mean, of course, mindless indiscriminate violence." There was a chortle of laughter at the crack. "So show them just how much violence Old Ironsides can do when we put our minds to it."

He put the microphone down. "The MLRS and M1299 batteries are waiting Sir. Just give the word."

Cavalry Force, Right Flank of the Army of Abigor, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

Visharakoramal kept his beast in hand, trying to keep lined up with the other members of his unit. It was hard, the great beasts wanted to surge ahead, their claws snapping in anticipation of biting into flesh, their tails arched up, ready to strike. Ahead of him the first rank was already breaking into a gallop, the beasts covering the ground with great loping strides. The second rank were into the trot, waiting for the order so they too could start their charge. Visharakoramal's third rank was still at the pace, their turn had not come yet. Far ahead of him, he could see a strange shimmering cloud that seemed to stretch across the battlefield. Odd, but then this human world was full of surprises. It wasn't the way they'd expected it to be.

It was time, his beast broke into its trot as the lines in front shifted to the gallop. The waves had spaced out, the gaps between them lengthening as the beasts accelerated to full speed, their riders letting them have their head in the race to gain the honor of being the first to crash through the enemy lines. Then, the surge and the pounding in his rear end as his beast went into the gallop, its head stretching out as its muscles pushed it faster towards the enemy. Visharakoramal sneered at the enemy in front, instead of forming up in the open where they could fly their banners and show their defiance like proper warriors, they were hiding behind the hill crests. Not that hiding would save the humans. In front of him, the first wave was nearing the shimmering river. Then, the earth opened up and swallowed them.

B-52M Bomber over the Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

"Fox-Two, Fox-Two, Fox-Two, Fox-Two, Fox-Two, Fox-Two." Major General Hooshank Sedigh was one of 9,600 pilots making the ritual chant as the missiles streaked away from his bomber climbing up, high into the stratosphere as the started their deadly course.

This wasn't what the B-52M had been built for, taking on a massed formation of enemy aircraft and blasting them apart with long-range weapons.

But, it was, after all, what their American Tiger Teams had said, it was all very well to win a fight but much better to kill your enemy before he knew the fight had started

The radio crackled again, the B-36Zs were opening fire with their long-range missiles. They didn't have the multi-target capability of the B-52Ms, not quite, they could engage 60 targets at once instead of the B-52M's 90, but they were firing their Feilong magic guided missiles in a stream at the mass of harpies.

As the first 60 hit, the Elorp would automatically switch to the next 60, and then the next. Sedigh realized something else, the harpies would be looking at the huge salvo of missiles aimed straight at them, not upwards to where the Feilongs were already hurtling down. Off to the north, the American Tu-688 formation was already closing to follow up the initial long-range pounding.

Over a hundred kilometers away, Inkraskalitran saw the sky in the far distance turn into a white could, one that lengthened towards the flock of harpies with incredible speed. This had to be the fire-spears thrown by the human sky-chariots, the harpies had all heard of them and quietly discussed them. There was word that thirty of the great Heralds had been destroyed by the fire-spears, if so, what could the smaller fliers do against them? He watched the fire-spears approaching, then the whole world seemed to turn upside down.

His eyes blurred, de-focused from the shock, Inkraskalitran looked with horror at the chaos wrought upon the harpy flock. One of his wing-mates had taken a direct hit from a fire spear and had been blown to fragments. Others around him had been caught by the blast and fragments and were fluttering down, crippled, wings torn apart, some already burning where their bodies were being seared by their blood.

Even as he watched, the members of his flock were dying as more fire-spears tore into them, the explosions adding to the chaos in the flock. Hundreds of thousands were dead and dying as Inkraskalitran tried to absorb the havoc that was being wrought. In the chaos, he saw a fire-spear coming for him. Panic-stricken, he dived and turned away, trying to accelerate as fast as he could but the fire-spear obediently changed course and followed him. That just wasn't fair.

"I love it when a plan comes together." The voice in Sedigh's earphones was a mixture of professional satisfaction and awe. The sky where the harpies had been was a mass of explosions and fireballs. "Lion Group, return to base, maximum speed. Reload and get back out here fast. Don't worry about fuel, we've got tankers up if anybody gets short. Tiger Group," That was the Indians Sedigh thought. "close on what's left of that harpy formation and slaughter it as soon as the Tu-688s have finished. Don't hang around, don't get close, zoom and boom. Watch out, the Tu-688s will be there as well."

Sedigh thumbed his transmitter."Eagle Eye, kill totals?"

There was a laugh in the controller's voice. "Bloody fighter pilots. Hard to say Lion Leader. In that mess, its hard to work out who's killing what. We have Lion Group down for 182,000 kills, Tiger Group for 435,000. Panther Group is about to engage. Good luck Lion Leader, look forward to seeing you back here."

It made sense, Sedigh thought. The B-52Ms were long-range arsenal bomber, they had no place getting mixed up in a wild furball, but the fighter pilot in his soul screamed in protest still. Because what a furball it was going to be. Behind him, the area of sky occupied by the harpies redoubled in its fury as the salvoes of holy enhanced AIM-125s tore into it.

Cavalry Force, Left Flank of the Army of Abigor, Tel Ash Sha, Southern Lemuria

Zorankalirtagap jabbed his heels into the neck of his beast, urging it onwards, towards the enemy who was supposed to be trying to stop the Legions of Abigor. His beast responded gallantly, straining every muscle in its body to get ahead of his rivals and be the first to start the slaughter of the humans.

Dawn was well advanced, the sky turning from black to blue, only it wasn't? Zorankalirtagap took time to glance upwards, there was a weird white cloud rising from behind the humans, a cloud tinged red from the rising sun. The appearance of a cloudy red sky for one second made Zorankalirtagap homesick but the clouds shot through with streaks of intense white fire. Suddenly, Zorankalirtagap saw the streaks of fire were curving through the air and the curve was going end with him.

The mathematics were simple and deadly. Just under 50 kilometers away from Tel Ash Sha were 2900 M370 MLRS rocket launchers. Each had 12 rockets. Each rocket had 6440 mithirl anti-demon sub-munitions. 12 x 2900 x 6440 = 224,112,000. Getting on for a quarter of a billion sub-munitions were descending on the 1000 legions-strong cavalry force that was charging across open terrain. The United States Army had a name for what was happening. They called it steel rain.

Zorankalirtagap was staggering around amid the wreckage of the cavalry charge. His beast was down, threshing on the ground, screaming with the agony of holes blasted through its body. Great craters seared by the fury of the shaped-charges that had blasted raw mithirl plasma into its body, they were something that the beast had never experienced before. All around it, others of its kind were in the same condition, screaming, legs, claws, tails blasted off, their faces melted, their bodies ripped open and their organs hanging out.

Some were dead, they were the ones who had been fortunate enough to be hit so hard that even the tough body and lust for war that was bread into the beasts could not allow them to survive. Between the bodies of the great beasts, their riders were strewn, some dead, some screaming from their wounds, all hurt in a way none had ever experienced before.

It really didn't register in time, the screams from overhead that drowned out even the shrieks and howls of the shattered cavalry charge. The explosions did catch his attention, they were large enough to attract anybody's. they rippled across the killing field, tearing apart the force pinned down there and finally bringing peace to the crippled beasts as they were blown apart.

Just over 48 kilometers away, the 5400 M1299 howitzer had dropped into the steady firing rate of ten 180mm rounds per minute, the rate that conserved ammunition and broke armies. Their shells arched over the Type -92 tanks and Black Knight armored vehicles of the First Army and slammed into the mass of struggling demons below. On the ridgeline above the tankers and mechanized infantry watched in slightly bored interest as the demon cavalry died. There was nothing to be really interesting here, they'd seen MLRS and artillery at work before. The artillery observers actually had something to do, they watched the patterns of shells landing and data linked a stream of information back to the guns, directing fire onto any pockets of survivors.

In the middle of the mass of artillery fire, Zorankalirtagap was learning new lessons and learning them very fast indeed. He was learning that he was helpless, that there was no defense against the shells that were moving backwards and forwards across the killing ground. He was learning that artillery and the controllers who directed in had no mercy, no compassion for the creatures they were slaughtering. They were just targets, to be erased as quickly and conveniently as possible.

Zorankalirtagap had learned one other thing. He was a creature of hell but these seemingly puny humans from Earth could create hell any time they wanted to. For the first time in his long life, Zorankalirtagap knew what sheer, unadulterated, panic-stricken terror felt like.

The Victorian Guards, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

"Now that is a sight." Guardsman Bass swung the turret of his tank so he could watch the scene in the minefields. The meter long bar mines , designed to knock out tanks, with sunforge shrapnel worked against the demon's rhinolobsters very effectively. The first wave had been blown apart by the mines, Bass had seen one rhinolobster have both its left legs torn off by the mines, as it had collapsed to one side it had landed on another and been killed by it. But the problem with minefields were that they were declining assets, every mine that claimed a victim thinned out the field. The second wave had done much better than the first, for a time at least. Quite a few of the rhinolobsters had made it though the minefield and then they'd hit the razor wire.

Solofilament wire was nasty stuff, if you tried to cut it, chances were whatever you tried to cut it with would just fall apart in two pieces during the process as the wire passed effortlessly through most substances, cleaving it apart on a molecular level. There were dozens of interlocked coils down there and even as Bass watched he saw the rhinolobsters tear into it and become entangled in the mass of razor-sharp edges. They screamed and threshed as the wire sliced ever-deeper into them and their efforts only got them more entangled and inflicted yet more damage. Some of the riders tried to help their mounts, grabbed the wire to lift in clear and these ones learned the terrible truth and the wire sliced their fingers to the bone.

Behind that second wave came the third and these had learned. Most of them followed the paths of the rhinolobsters that had made it to the wire. They climbed over the creatures from the second wave, escaping the first entangling coils of wire but got bogged down in the rest. Others followed them and by simple weight and mass they crushed down the wire with the bodies of those in front of them. By sheer weight of numbers, the enemy cavalry had breached the wire and were through.

"Get ready Boys." Lieutenant McLeoud's voice came over the radio. "The artillery lads are opening fire. Get ready to pick off any of them monsters that get through the barrage."

Bass settled down into his tank commander's seat, then took a look through the scope. The blood in the minefield and on the wire was green.

B-36Z Tiger Group Leader over the Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

The world rotated around Air Fleet Commander Gurka as his B-36 hit the top of its climb and he rolled smoothly over. The survivors of the massacre were far below him, their bodies barely visible. His radar could see them though, he'd lost them as he'd climbed out but now he'd re-acquired.

The devastating missile salvoes had destroyed hundreds of thousands the harpies, their bodies dissolving in fire as the missiles ripped into them. Once there had been so many that they'd swamped the memory on the radars but now, the situation was clearly defined.

There were barely two targets left for each of the allied fighters and Gurka had already killed one of his. He'd picked his target for the next pass already, one harpy flying west, its nerve broken, running for its life.

It didn't stand a chance. Gurka pushed his throttles over and went after it in a long, smooth dive. His gun-sight carat showed the predicted impact point of his cannon burst, it was sliding towards the harpy, the diamond embracing its back.

Then, it turned red and Gurka squeezed the trigger, blasting burst of 57mm armor-piercing incendiary ammunition into the harpy's body. For a second or so, nothing happened although Gurka could swear that he saw lumps of black flesh flying off the body. Then it flared into orange fire, burning and spinning for the desert floor.

"Tiger Group, time to go home. Call your boys off Tiger Leader, the squids want to play."

Gurka looked around. Already the American Tu-688s were heading north, their missile racks empty."Acknowledged."

"Head for Dingbat Tiger Group," Gurka mentally translated that. Dezful.

"Some Russian transports have landed with missile reloads for you. Good luck and don't mix with any naughty ladies."

"All Tiger aircraft, break off, head for dingbat." Gurka looked hard to the west. There was a black cloud approaching. "Eagle Eye, contacts to the west."

"We have the Tiger Group Leader. More harpies, covering the ground force main body. Sea Eagle Group will be handling them. Out."

The out had a definitive note to it. The B-36s were out of missiles and very low on cannon ammunition. Eagle Eye up there in his AWACS wasn't interested in them any more. His attention was steering the group of J-8s from the three carrier fleets offshore into the new harpy cloud.

Headquarters of Merafawlazes, Commander, Western Flank, Abigor's Army

"The cavalry force have gone!"

"They're through then. Order the flies to pursue the humans and cut them up on the way. The infantry will follow through. Advance on this place the humans call Kirata. Ravage it, Abigor will be pleased."

"No, Noble master." The messenger dropped to his knees and crawled across the floor to Merafawlazes hooves. "I must tell you, the cavalry have not broken the Earth humans. The cavalry are dead. All of them. The humans killed them all with their magic."

"What is this insanity? Earth Humans do not have magic." Merafawlazes's voice dropped to a menacing growl. "This is not a good time to jest."

It never was thought Falabrednowsa. Being a messenger was a very chancy and dangerous profession, especially where the recipient of the message was a Duke. They'd been known to eat messengers who brought bad news. "Sire, I fear to contradict you."

"Good." Merafawlazes interjected the comment with silky menace.

"But the terrans do have magic. They have used it against the cavalry. They can call down thunder from the sky and drown their enemies in fire. They have destroyed our cavalry. It is a horrible sight, our cavalrymen dead on the ground torn to pieces by the fire, the surviving beasts on the ground screaming with pain as they die."

Merafawlazes attention was drawn by a thunder in the skies overhead, a roll of thunder followed by a deafening, hideous scream.

"Sire, that is the war-cry of the humans in their sky chariots. A great battle is raging while we speak, the flies fight for their lives against the sky chariots. There is magic there too, the humans throw burning spears that never miss."

"Our flies do well against them?"

The answer had better be yes was the reply running through Falabrednowsa's mind. But he was a messenger and it was his duty to speak the truth.

"No Sire, they die as the cavalry died. The human sky chariots are so much faster than they are. Our enemies cannot hear them come for the cowards give their battle cry only after they have launched an attack. They travel faster than the wind, they climb faster than any of us have ever seen before. They afraid to fight us in honorable combat so they kill by the hundred with their fire spears without ever coming close. Then, they sit above our fliers and dive on them like hawks. Our flies are worse than helpless against them."

Merafawlazes grunted and turned his attention to the parchment map on the table before him. It wasn't much help, it just showed the positions of the cities and his best guess at the locations of his troops. Why had the humans chosen to fight here? There was nothing important to fight for here, the nearest great cities were far away. All there was here were these rolling hills with the strange black strips the humans built across them. As he stared at the map, Merafawlazes got the feeling he was missing something very important.

Twenty minutes later, Merafawlazes strode out of his tent, towards the commanders of his remaining legions. Overhead, the sky was covered with strange, crisscrossing white clouds, although he didn't know it, the contrails from the J-88/101 hypersonic jet of the 332nd Air Expeditionary Group. The Lawn Dart pilots had, to put it mildly, been having a field day. Merafawlazes didn't know and didn't care, he had more important things to think about.

"Get the Legions moving forward, all of them. Two waves, seven thousand and seven thousand . Tell all the infantry, the suffering of those who hang back will be legendary even for hell." Merafawlazes picked a piece of Falabrednowsa's flesh from his teeth. He'd finally worked out what he had been missing. Breakfast..

The Victorian Guards, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

"Isn't this what they call a target-rich environment?"

And that, Guardsman Bass thought, was the understatement of the century. The first wave of the enemy attack had been smashed, it had died on the mines and razor wire, the few survivors had been torn apart by the artillery. That had seemed like a victory until the whole horizon had turned black with enemy infantry.

The enemy line was almost 200 kilometers long, the rising sun glittering gold off their bronze tridents. It was a terrifying sight, one that told Bass just as surely as if he could look into the mind of the enemy commander himself that the demons had never seen wire and minefields before.

'Look into the mind of the commander'. Bass rolled the words over in his mind. It would come, it would come. The ability of the demons to enter people's minds and create illusions had been a nasty surprise but it had been discovered. Once something was discovered, it could be investigated and measured.

That meant it could be understood and one the scientists understood something they could duplicate it. Once the scientists had duplicated it, the engineers would take that work and turn it into practical tools. Once the engineers had created the practical tools, the armorers would turn those tools into weapons. And once the weapons were available, the soldiers would use them.

That was the way it had always been, that was the way it would be now.

Bass lased the enemy line, waited a carefully measured ten seconds then lased it again. The computer in the tank thought for a microscopic second, then translated the two readings into a speed readout, one that made Bass raise his eyebrows a second. "Right lads, they're advancing at 25 kay-pee-aitch.

The brass better know about that." Another guiding human principle, Bass had no doubt the same piece of data was being transmitted in by dozens of other tank commanders but it was better for an important piece of data to be transmitted a thousand times than never transmitted at all because everybody thought everybody else had done so. The fact that demons on foot could move five times faster than a human was very important.

.

306th Legion, Eastern Flank, Abigor's Army

Krykojanklawas jogged forward, most of his attention devoted to the enemy in front, the rest to the leader of his contubernium. Like most of his fellow demons in the ranks, he was holding his tripod underarm, the points angled upwards so he didn't stab the demon in front. There might be time for that later. He and his fellows were lucky, the ground in front of them was clear, they wouldn't have to pass through the hideous scene where the Terrans magic had destroyed the cavalry force.

Word that Earth's human had holy magic had spread through the ranks like wildfire, the stories growing with each retelling. They could make the ground rise up and swallow their enemies, the stones come alive and crush their victims. They could conjure up snakes from the ground that would wrap themselves around their prey and slice them apart. That story was true, Krykojanklawas decided, he could see the great circular holes in the ground where the snakes had come from.

He could see something else, the ground ahead of him was littered with strange-looking bars, painted gray-yellow so they were hard to see against the sand and rock. There were a lot of them though.

Curiously, Krykojanklawas glanced to one side, there were a lot fewer where the cavalry had ridden to its death. Even as he watched, a demon in the front rank stepped on one of the bars and the explosion threw him in the air, spraying yellow body fluid as his legs spiraled away from his body.

The bars were human magic, Krykojanklawas realized the truth as additional explosions added their noise to the death toll that was already far higher than the Greater Demons had expected. He didn't care much about the expectations of the Greater Demons though, what he did understand was that stepping on the bars was death.

He'd heard about human explosives, how they could blast even a Lesser Demon apart so that all that remained was stains and rags of flesh. If they could do that to a Lesser Demon, what could they do to a Minor Demon like him? Krykojanklawas had just seen the answer and it didn't please him.

So there were a lot fewer bars where the cavalry had died?

Krykojanklawas did the obvious and started to edge sideways, being careful not to step on the bars, heading for where the ground was just littered with the scraps of flesh and mutilated bodies of beasts and their riders. All along the ranks of the legions, the other demons were starting to do the same.

The Victorian Guards, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

"Here they go…" Bass watched with interest. There had been a ripple of explosions as the advancing horde reached the outer edge of the minefield and the first victims stepped on the bar mines.

The mines had been intended for anti-tank work but their fuses had been adjusted so they'd be set off by much lesser pressures. That had worked, a handful of demons had died but the rest were starting to funnel in towards the area partially cleared by the cavalry charge. Bass lased them again, the advance had slowed right down as the demons tried to pick their way through the minefield.

Poor sods. Bass thought, he could almost feel it in his heart to be sorry for them. Almost, but not quite.

Watching through the high-powered optics of his Type-47, Bass could see the ranks of demons stretching, bucking and surging. He knew what would be happening in there, the NCOs and officers trying to prevent the lines drifting into the cleared zone, trying to force the demons to keep moving straight ahead, accepting the losses from the minefield. Idly, he wondered what the Arabian Joint Task Force was thinking, hidden far off to the left, but doubtless watching what was happening. He'd heard they'd cleared minefields by marching infantry through them. Looked like the demons were doing the same.

Overhead, Bass heard the scream of shells. "Outbound," the sound easily distinguishable from the ominous "Inbound". He wondered quickly how long it would be before the demons learned to tell the difference. He looked again through the optics, seeing the shells impact on the mass of demons hung up on the flanks of the cavalry graveyard. The artillery forward observers were doing their job, directing the artillery in on the flanks, trying to compress the advancing army into a huddled mass.

That was happening already in the graveyard, the demons lucky enough to be facing that area were moving in but the ones to either side were sliding in also and the resulting congestion was slowing their movement to a crawl. The spams called this "shaping the battlefield", a typically melodramatic term in Bass's opinion but descriptive enough.

Anti-Aircraft Battery, General Carlson's Headquarters, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

There are satans approaching. Raid count 3000." The Iranian Lieutenant rapped the report out in Farsi, then translated to English for the benefit of Sergeant Major Harper. "Prepare to engage."

"With respect, Lieutenant, might I suggest we wait for a short while and let the situation develop?"

The Iranian frowned slightly, more from curiosity than annoyance.

"Sergeant, we have modernized Pantsir-S2 missiles here. We have more than 20 kilometers of range."

Harper settled back slightly. He'd been expecting some of the harpies to leak through the fighter screen, no fighter cover in history had managed to eliminate the threat of just one or two survivors getting past. The sheer numbers of harpies had meant more than that would although this was a larger group that he'd expected. "Lieutenant," Harper's voice was very quiet so nobody else could overhear, "how long have you been in the Army."

"Three years Sergeant."

"I've been serving my Queen for twenty. Let me give you a little advice. We blast those harpies now, when they're 20 kilometers away and the brass will think our job is easy and move us somewhere dangerous. Now, we wait until they're five kilometers away and the brass is really sweating, then blast them, we get to be heroes, get a commendation and possibly even a three-day pass. And we get to keep this nice soft billet.

"Ahhh." The Lieutenant was impressed and a felt a little honored at receiving such a free gift of valuable expertise. Truly there was much a young officer could learn from a veteran such as this. "We will hold fire until… five kilometers?""

Harper nodded fractionally so the officer gave the orders to his men, adding the explanation he'd been given as if it was his own idea. He could see his men nodding as the logic appealed to them.

At five kilometers, the 400 Pantsir-S2 missile launchers opened fire, pushing 2400 57E6 missiles at the 3000 harpies now closing in on the base. One harpy made it past the missiles only to be sawn apart in mid-air as the 30mm 2A38M autocannons caught it in a crossfire.

Back in the battery command vehicle, the telephone rang. Carlson's voice was on the other end. "Well done Lieutenant, that was a getting us a little worried. I'll send a commendation to General Soleimani." He paused slightly. "You left it a bit late didn't you?"

"Needed to get a proper tactical picture Sir. We've only six ready rounds on each launcher and I didn't want to get caught reloading." Out of the corner of his eye, the Lieutenant saw Harper giving him a discrete sign of approval.

"Very wise." Carlson paused for a second. "We gave you Sergeant-Major Harper as liaison didn't we? Please tell him I would like a few words with him later."

The Victorian Guards, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

"How shall a man die better than facing fearful odds? For the ashes of his fathers and the future of his buds. It's show time boys".

Guardsman Bass put the tank intercom down. Like every good tank commander, he had anticipated the order, getting his Sheridan ready to move well before the word came down from Army HQ. It hadn't taken that much anticipation in fact, just a modicum of skill and experience. Skill and experience was something that the long-term professionals that made up the British ranks had in abundance. The spams may have the shiny toys, the British tankers said, but the Brits knew how to play with them.

In the valley below, the demon army was slowly extricating itself from the tangle caused by the minefields and wire. What had started as a serried mass of infantry was being distorted and funneled into a confused mass, made all the worse by the pounding of the AS-020Ds.

The 180mm guns were lobbing their shells into the mass of infantry still seething through the gap in the wire torn where the demon cavalry had died. They were concentrating on the mass targets but that meant the infantry was slowly penetrating the first line of defense, breaking through in a thin, steady stream. They were beginning to move across the valley floor, making their way towards where the Sheridans were sitting in wait behind the gravel dunes.

Even with the snarled mess down by the wire holding up the bulk of the demons, Bass was appalled by the sheer number of them coming towards his position. Intellectually, he had heard the number that was expected, nearly 140 millions, but he had never imagined what 140 millions infantry swarming towards him would look like. Now, he knew. It was a sight few had ever seen before even where human armies were concerned. The mass of demons were something that belonged out of human prehistory.

"Mark your targets as they come." The voice over the radio was calm and collected, the boyish pitch already well-controlled and only barely a reminder of how young their officer was. It didn't matter much, everybody knew a junior officer fresh out of Sandhurst was still being trained in his craft. This one was doing well, Bass thought. If he survived, he might go far. Even while he thought that, his hands were selecting a group of demons as his target.

"Lase them."

A brief pause."6,003 meters boss."

Another brief pause and then Lieutenant McLeoud's voice cut in again.

"On my word boys. Hold Fast and…. shoot!"

"On the way."

306th Legion, Eastern Flank, Abigor's Army

He had survived the snakes, he had seen their silver bodies stretched out on the ground, tape-like creatures that were threatening even in death. Those who had stepped on their bodies had screamed in agony as the snake teeth cut their feet apart. Demon skin was strong but the silver snakes were stronger.

He had avoided the yellow bars as well, taught by the fearful fate of those who had been careless enough to step on them. He had threaded his way through the maze on the ground, catching only minor injuries from the fragments as more careless, or less fortunate, as Krykojanklawas was quickly beginning to realize, on a battlefield they were the same thing, had stepped on the bars and been blown apart. Krykojanklawas corrected himself, the lucky ones were blown apart, the unlucky ones just had their legs ripped off and lay screaming on the ground.

The bars weren't the only magic in the ground here. Something else was hidden in the sand and gravel, something nobody saw until it was too late. Something that threw a metal ball up into the air so that it could explode and throw out a slashing rain of fragments. The humans had a touch of true evil in their magic, the balls always exploded at about waist height and the ones caught by them were the unluckiest of all for they were rarely killed, just disemboweled and castrated by the blasts. Their screams were truly dreadful.

That was the worst thing of all, the overwhelming noise, the sensation that the bath of sound they were immersed in was itself a weapon hammering them flat with repeated waves of blasting. The explosions of the mines, the flat crack of the balls as they were thrown into the air and exploded, worst of all, the howl as the human mages created thunderbolts and hurled them into the mass of troops advancing on them.

They mixed with the screams of the dying, and those who wished they were dying, in an all-embracing cacophony and the war-cry howls of the humans in their sky-chariots overhead, hunting down the surviving flies. Krykojanklawas had never heard anything like it before. If anything the sound was worse than the magic that was being thrown at him, its pressure on his head made it almost impossible to think straight.

He lifted his head slightly, the human mages were up to something new. A ripple of lightning flashed along the ridge crest ahead of him. His eyes focused on that ridge, there were strange boxes scattered along it and the lightning seemed to have come from them. Before that could really register, the bath of sound that enveloped him was punctuated by ear-splitting screams, more human battle cries Krykojanklawas presumed.

How could such puny creatures give out such cries? Off to his left, a tight knot of demons had penetrated the wire, using the body of a dead Beast as a bridge. As Krykojanklawas watched, one of their leaders seemed to be hurled backwards, disintegrating into a fine spray of mist and parts as he did so. Most of those around him fell, spurting yellow body fluid from wounds torn by fragments from the magic bolt. Along the line, Krykojanklawas could see forty or fifty more such explosions as the magic bolts tore into the demonic ranks.

For the first time, he sensed that moving forward was impossible, that he could not do it and survive. All along the line, the same idea was beginning to filter into the minds of his fellows, the advance was faltering. Although he had never experienced anything like this before, the simple instinct of self-preservation cut in and Krykojanklawas took cover in a convenient dip in the ground. He was just in time, another salvo of the screaming bolts slammed into the ranks where the demons had clustered, spreading more death and destruction.

At that point he noticed something, the human mages were hurling their bolts where the demons were most tightly packed, the area effect of their blasts ensured multiple kills for each bolt. Krykojanklawas began to wonder if his survival in this human-created hell, he used the phrase without any sense of irony, was due to the fact that he was in a thinly populated section where most of the demons were already down.

The human magic was being concentrated on a section of the line far away, even the terrible noise seemed to have slackened a bit. That gave Krykojanklawas an opportunity. He had already spotted another, better dip in the ground ahead of him, so he leapt up and sprinted across to it. On the way he discharged his psychic force into his trident and aimed a bolt at the ridgeline ahead. The blue bolt shot out, it would take time for him to recharge but at least he'd taken a shot at the mages. Then, he was in his new hiding place, trying to find another one that was both better and closer to the enemy.

The Victorian Guards, Acrifa Plain, Southern Lemuria

''Chaos Release: Water Gun!'' a demon yelled releasing a stream of jet water that sped towards Bass's tank.

"What the blazes was that?"

Bass shrugged. Something had hit his tank, it seemed like some sort of water stream or something. It had come from the mass of infantry they were pounding. "No idea. Any damage."

"No boss, the tank shaked for a second but that's all. If I didn't know better, I'd say we got hit by a water cannon. If we did, the 'Maximum Defense Seal' from the Holy Order of Eden worked as advertised."

Bass looked across the line, it seemed like quite a few bolts were coming in from the direction of the enemy. "The guys in the Zeroth Division said that demons could throw elemental attacks didn't they? Looks like we just got hit by one." Ahead, down in the valley, a group of demons had penetrated the wire in his sector. "Load HEAD."

"Up."

"Shoot."

"On the way."

The tank lurched as another 130mm HEAD round went down range and Bass saw it plow into the group he'd selected, blowing one demon into fragments while those around it went down wounded. The thought crossed Bass's mind that he was currently firing the second biggest and most expensive sniper's rifle in history. It also crossed his mind that snipers couldn't possibly stop a massed attack like this. He had to give the demons credit, the ground in the minefield and around the wire was carpeted with their dead yet they were still pushing forward. It took gutsy infantry to do that.

"That definitely a fire ball and lightning bolt." Bass had seen other Sheridan getting hit by a ball of fire and briefly lighting up the way a ship's mast sometimes did in an electrical storm. St Elmo's Fire it was called or something. He switched to the platoon net.

"Lieutenant, Sir, we're taking incoming fire here. Some sort of element spells, like lightning, water and fire. Seem to be pretty dangerous."

"Roger that Bass. For your information, other tanks and the crunchies in their IFV are also reporting the attacks. Hold Tight."

Bass switched back to tank intercom and picked out another demon target. Once again, his 130mm gun crashed, sending the demons flying. Their casualty rate down there was appalling, the AS-020Ds were still pounding them with their 180s while the tanks added precision fire to the execution yet they were barely making a dent in the mass of demons still moving forward. Bass got an uneasy feeling that the battle was not going well. Bass looked at his right. More than 10 different spells of different elements were coming towards him from different directions. The explosion rocked the 94-tonnes tank but Bass was still alive, at least for now.

First Army, First Armored Joint Task Force, Tel Ash Sha, Southern Lemuria

"They may not know what they're doing but my word, do they have guts." Major General Sean MacFarland watched the slaughter on his display. The MQ-90 was relaying real-time video of the battle as it developed, sending back pictures of the demon horde as they floundered under the lash of artillery fire.

The MLRS batteries were inflicting incredible losses on them, every time they fired, whole sections of the demon front just vanished under the Steel Rain. There were two problems with that, the batteries fired about once every four or five minutes and that just wasn't often enough. The other was that they had already dumped more than a billion DPICM bomblets into the target area. With a 2 percent failure rate, that meant there were already 20 millions dud rounds scattering the battlefield. That would make it a hazard for years to come.

Still, the gap between the MLRS salvoes was being filled by the M1299s. All 10,800 guns in the First Armored Joint Task Force were now pouring fire into the enemy army. A human army would have broken by now, given up, known that getting through the artillery fire was impossible, and saved their lives by pulling back. The demons weren't doing that. Not yet at any rate. MacFarland know they would, sooner or later. They were fighting the United States Army on its terms, on its ground, giving it exactly the target the Army was supremely good at destroying. The demons would either run or die.

Even as he watched, a new element was added to the massacre, the Black Knights of his mechanized infantry were firing anti-tank missiles into the enemy formation, picking out the groups the artillery missed and cutting them down. The tanks were silent, MacFarland intended to hold fire with them until the enemy were 3,000 meters away. The 152mm smoothbore didn't have the accurate range of the British rifled 130mms so the Black Knights had to take over the long-range precision fire role.

MacFarland looked at the mass of infantry threshing in the kill zone and shook his head. They had to stop at some point.

Hadn't they?