A/N: Thanks for the reviews, I'll do my best to keep up the standard of my writing.

Last admiral: Why not? Romans did not have much in terms of medicine. The villagers are not rural yokels…well they are, but not idiots. They know of magic and herbs, but not modern medicine. The only medical procedures the Romans had were used for surface wounds and not internal trauma, which they understood that they did not have the abilities to treat. In regards to potions, no. Why would I add potions when there is none spoken of in the anime and no reason to add them? I'm not following an RPG nor am I following DnD templates. As for herbs, I need to do quite a bit more reading to write anything on that so no or not yet. You need to remember that back then, a lot of wounds would only be treated with a good diet and good sanitation after wrapping them up. Magic, on the other hand, could be even stronger than modern medicine at times, with superior closing of wounds and instant removal of diseases.

Munkhazaya29: I think you are referring to why Count Marcus believes the Mongolians are in charge? I did that only based on the flag patches captured during the POC site attack. I probably didn't explain it enough, especially since I tried to explain it through their eyes. Will definitely fix that.

And with that, I apologize for the rant. Thanks for the review, let's get on with the chapter before I keep going.

Chapter 18: The Future of Warfare

Approximately 6 kilometres from Alnus Hill, Saderan Empire, Falmart

Duran the Lion King of Elbe stared out his tent flap and into the evening light, blocking out the sounds of laughter and scorn the other battle commanders around him casted upon their unknown enemies. The falling sunlight reflecting off the helms of the troops outside, marching to and fro in their preparations for battle. They were camped quite a distance from where he had planned to offer battle, his scouts reconnoitering the future battlefields and his foragers sent out. Yet there hasn't been any skirmishing with any enemy forces. Normally his scouts would have seen some enemy supply lines and been able to capture a soldier for interrogation or his foragers would have been attacked while gathering supplies, but nothing. No attacks anywhere. He had no clue who these other-worlders are or how they fight. From what his men had said, the foreigners were holed up in their fort, only holding a thin defensive line just outside the walls.

" What troubles you, dear friend?" Ligu spoke up, a grin plastered on his face.

Duran replied somewhat gloomily, " do you not think the enemy is too easy a conquest? Only a little over a hundred men outside the walls, but with tall enough walls that we can not see inside."

Ligu clasped the Lion's shoulder with one hand, " it won't matter. We have the full might of the Allied Kingdoms armies as well as two Imperial legions," he paused to raise his chalice to the Saderan Legate, who returned the gesture. " Tomorrow, we shall just swamp the encampment and move on. It would be better to worry more about the Western Dominion than the Otherworlders."

" Those two legions are newly raised, they lack combat experience and veterans," the Elbian followed the Duke's movements, the young Legate gave the king a military salute this time, raising his right fist to his chest. " They will not hold much against any size force from any enemy."

Flicking his eye to the Saderan commander who stared almost adoringly back at him, " he's going to get those legions killed."

" Oh come now, he is just excited to see the Lion of Elbe in action," Ligu chuckled, grasping his stomach as his wine spilled from his cup, " he will see the war up close soon, as he is the vanguard."

Duran rose to leave from the war table, " Let us hope for an easy battle then, we need the men for the Dominion."

The Duke guffawed this time, pointing at the leaving man, " Hope? The Lion from our younger days would never hope. He would grasp the enemy with his claws and knew he would be the victor. Oh, how the Lion has aged!"

The Elbian king stepped out of the tent looking up into the dying sunlight, the evening breeze cooling his body from the warm protection of the cotton walls.

{ Oh, old friend, we have both aged heavily.}

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"FORWAARD!"

The dawn sun flashed over the hills as the formations began their march to Alnus. The Saderan Legions led on in two checkered lines, with the 10 cohorts* of the newly formed Etna legion followed by the equally rookie Dumas legion, their legionaries marching with their iron hobnails clicking menacingly against the cobblestone road. Closely behind was the loose group of the League Principality hoplites striding relaxingly behind the vanguard, their spears held leisurely across their right shoulders and their green-painted, wooden circular shields rested on their left. The scattered light skirmishers and ranged troops of the Mudwan Kingdom covered the forward forces from behind them with javelins, slings and bows, the men mostly hunters from the little nation, conscripted to fight a war they knew nothing about. The smaller less known vassal kingdoms' armies boxed these ranged units in their form of weak protection; what men they provided were trained and equipped as militia fighters with crudely crafted swords and shields at best and farmers with pitchforks at worst. Alguna's light cavalry and blue chariots covered the flanks, the animal husbandry the vassal kingdom was famous for taking up the place for the Saderan's lack of Equites cavalry. The Algunans even brought five of their royal elephants still adorned with royal navy blue barding and iron chainmail, a long ancient gift from the Western Dominion that they continued to breed on their own, now used to make up for the lack of men the kingdom could provide. Finally, the masses of professional hoplites of Elbe held the rear, surrounding the Allied Vassal Kingdoms' monster army, keeping them in check. Their bronze shields and maroon plumed helmets easily convinced the goblins and orcs to behave during the march, even monsters knew better than to test the nearly unbreakable phalanx formations of Elbe. Being the most experienced and equipped of all the Allied forces, they were to be held back to allow for the other armies to battle-harden themselves against the Other-worlders before the fierce battles the Western Dominion would later provide.

Ligu cupped the visor of this peaked bascinet as he peered behind him, trying to pick out the plumed maroon barbute that signified the Elbian Lion from among the forest of rested spears that stretched out behind him. He was stuck near the vanguard, his ears bleeding from the constant ranting of the young Legate about how the heir to the Empire was his close friend. The Duke had stopped listening after the man started on how the Prince would unite all the vassal kingdoms under imperial rule. Turning back to the far off fortress walls, he saw one of the Algunan cavalry scouts riding hard towards them, his horse drooling from exertion.

The caramel skinned skirmisher halted his horse in front of the generals, his right arm ripping around and pointing back the way he came, " enemy wagon coming towards us, they carry a white flag!"

Sure enough, a white wagon was billowing up a dust trail as it raced towards the squares of legionaries, a large white flag whipping violently from a post mounted on the side of the chassis.

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The white dirt-streaked Land Rover Wolf bumped and jostled along the uneven ground, the driver swerving to avoid potholes. The soldier in the passenger seat clutching a letter to his chest, his rifle rattling in between his legs, the other two soldiers sitting in the back seat staring out their windows at their shadows. Surrounding that one vehicle, horsemen in light armour with javelins grasped alongside their reins, urging their panting horses to match the car's speed while holding just outside throwing range.

The driver applied the brakes as they slowed in front of the legionaries marching towards them, a shout from the rear of the formation halting the Saderans. The passenger of the vehicle opened his door and stepped out, waving a paper envelope with his arms above his head, leaving his rifle in the car.

" PAX!" The soldier shouted out as he started walking towards the formations, right before the clanks of armour shifting alerted him to the legionaries' movements.

The skies darkened as he turned to run.

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" IACTUS!"

Ligu gawked at the Legate as the Saderan yelled out the command, his men responding immediately, drawing their arms back before hurling their javelins.

" Legate! That was a negotiation team, if I ever saw one, what is the meaning of this!" the Duke questioned harshly as the pilum hit their marks, his eyes bearing down on the commander. Five javelins punched through the transparent front of the wagon, three clearly impaling the man on the right, the rest puncturing other areas on the vehicle and the ground around it.

" There is no need to negotiate with savages. Now Duke, let us march to glory!" The Legate laughed as he waved his sword to the front, he shouted out once more as he galloped his horse past his men.

" Kill them all, no survivors!"

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The messenger was luckily able to get himself behind his car door before the steel rain reached them, that door taking two pilums that had their metal points puncturing through the aluminum panels and shoving the door into the man, but didn't proceed any further. The other steel tipped wooden shafts landed all around the vehicle, some even into the aluminum roof. The driver, however, was not so lucky. The two soldiers still in the Land Rover were physically unable to remove the driver from his seat. The javelins had gone through his left lung, his abdomen and his right thigh, and dug themselves through the seat, his blood pouring down the steel tips of the weapons. The man was gone in seconds as his life ebbed away with his red stuff.

Now unable to use the vehicle due to the body of their comrade pinned in the driver's seat, the three took off running, rifles jostling at their sides.

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The front ranks of legionaries shouted out a battle cry as they drew gladii and gave chase, closing the distance rapidly. The Legate pushed his horse onwards, slowing down as he reached the front of the charging infantry.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Bursts of smoke blocked the way forward for the Saderans, the white, choking cloud seemed to appear as if it had dropped out of the sky as they built up to massive blinding plumes. The rushing men instantly halted as the leaders began coughing and hacking at the awful, unfamiliar carbon taste from inside the radii of the smoke, pulling back away from the almost supernatural feat that blocked their advance. The legionaries began swiping at the odd cloud, first with their gladii, followed by their hands and arms. The harmless smoke only shifted slightly from the small movements, but did not dissipate. Yet within a couple minutes, winds had blown large swathes of the smoke away, with patches of partially open areas opened up, allowing the Saderans to see the rats they were chasing jump into two long, green eight wheel wagons that took off for the walls. Further small puffs popped out from the wagons covering even their retreat, multiple smaller clouds of smoke took up the job of their dissipating larger brothers, leaving the Saderan dumbstruck with only one thought in mind.

Sorcerers!

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Alexei Koptsov shifted slightly as he sat on his turret, leaning forward onto his open commander's hatch with crossed arms. He looked up at one of sentries peering out from the top of the walls with binoculars, another soldier beside him relaying what he saw through a radio handset. Koptsov himself was pressing his headset close to his ear with his left shoulder, waiting for commands. His T-72B3 was parked right before the Eastern gate with his platoon mate parked directly behind him. It had been a good 10 minutes since the negotiation team drove out to meet the large army that had amassed in the area and started marching on the UN fortress. The sentry had been calmly speaking with his colleague earlier, yet he had stood up rather abruptly during that time, and Alexei could easily see that both of them were conversing rapidly and emotionally. A complete mixed line of UN uniforms soon ran up alongside the vehicles, carrying radio sets and range finding equipment up the stairs and onto the wall, joining the sentries already there.

{ Well then, it's about time.}

Alexei turned to the tank behind him, pulling himself completely out of the turret with his left hand to swerve around the remote machine gun behind his hatch to face the other TC. With his right hand, he pointed quickly to his headset once he had the man's attention, who scrambled into his tank. Alexei copied his movement, slipped back down completely into his own turret. 81mm mortars soon fired off from behind, the sneezing of the tubes ending with a distinct metallic ring as the rounds took off.

" Alright boys, ready up. Driver, run up the engine, gunner, system's check."

" Da." " Ponyat."

The engine revved up as a great plume of white smoke vented out the left side, the tank behind them doing the same seconds later. Vasily had the tank turret swiveling slightly back and forth, the gun elevating and lowering as he shifted his joystick. Alexei was doing the same with his RWS, the NSVT machine gun pointing to the sky and ground before spinning in circles.

Just as he finished up his check, a voice spoke into his ear.

" Vanguard, vanguard. Reverse and let the BTR beside you pass."

{ What!?}

Alexei quickly stuck his head out of the turret again and saw that two Mongolian BTR-60s had driven up alongside them and the main gate was being pushed open. Speaking into his own radio, he asked for the status of the vehicle behind him.

" Storm 0-1, Storm 0-2. You are good, we have reversed enough for one tank. We will assist."

" Understood, Storm 0-2. Driver, reverse."

Facing his camera system behind him, Alexei's tank was soon out of the way, allowing the BTRs to race out of the gates. He tried peering around the vehicles on their way out, but the gates were closed behind them before he saw anything.

Vasily spoke up first, " Commander, what do you see?"

" Nothing you bastard, " he pointed back at the gunner's sight without looking over, his eyes glued to his own camera, " stay on your fucking sights."

The minutes ticked away tensely as they waited, staring at their screens and viewports. The sentries on the wall had calmed down and crouched low behind cover now, only their helmets must have just peaked over their cover as they peered out.

" Something must have happened," this time the driver, Ilya, spoke, " those BTRs were driving near full speed, they must have floored their accelerators."

The gates were reopened again, the two soldiers at each gate heaving the steel doors in, the returning BTRs almost running over the pair on the right in their haste to seek safety within the walls.

Alexei watched as three exhausted soldiers piled out of the armoured vehicles, two he immediately identified as Russians from the blue UN peacekeeping armbands they wore and the AK-74Ms slung on their soldiers. The third was Indian from the blue helmet he had hanging from his neck onto his back, his INSAS leaning haphazardly against the large tires.

{ Wait, three soldiers? Where is the Land Rover?}

He had seen the two Russians and two Indians enter the light utility vehicle before they had left, now being brought back by BTRs and with one soldier missing.

Once again, a quiet pause echoed through the tank, the men's thoughts swirling from what had happened to the group that had driven out, only the vibrations and noise from the engine to keep them company.

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Horns sounded out, recalling the legionaries back to formation. The men jogged back into their cohort squares, falling back beside their comrades, shoulder to shoulder. The Legate strolled his horse back to where Ligu had watched the charge from.

The duke was just shaking his head in disappointment as the youngster trotted up alongside the command entourage.

" Come now Ligu, the enemy are like rats, scurrying away from our blades, " he started, waving his sword and gesturing out to the fortress, " even their magic is harmless to MY legionaries!"

With this he guffawed, his left hand clutching at his stomach, Ligu's face creasing at the usage of his first name.

" There was no need for bloodshed, we could have seen if these newcomers had any honor," Ligu spoke up through the man's laughter. That laughter cut off abruptly from the comment.

" Do you mean to imply that these savages, the very savages that ambushed and destroyed the garrison, have any honour?!"

Centurions began waving back towards their commanders, letting them know that the cohorts had reformed ranks, the legate quickly called for the attack to continue once he saw every square back in formation. Drums soon followed the blaring horns, the violence cadence pushing the men on in a quick march. The legionaries joined in, their blades banging against their shields in line with the drums. A number of them stopped as they reached the enemy wagon, scrambling out of the way of their marching comrades as they fumbled with the door. But soon they had them open.

The distance between the armies and the perimeter line shrunk within the hour, the slope and fatigue slowing the approaching soldiers considerably as the minutes dragged on.

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1 kilometre soon turned to 800 metres, 800 metres then turned to 500 metres, as sentries on the wall watched with an army slowly growing in front of their eyes from a black line to a massive formation sprawling out in front of them. Distances constantly relayed up the chain of command, the units meant to engage them updated on the current range to enemy forces.

As combat sandals crossed the invisible 500 metre line, a giant banner unfurled over the walls, quivering with the wind as the cloth sheet pushed up against concrete. The gates just below the banner opened as well, the enemy sallying forth to join the men already outside. This was synchronized with another two groupings of smoke materializing with their distinctive thumps, this time on the flanks of the formation. Yet this barrage was different from the last. Instead of blinding the men with a spread out line of smoke, these plumes hammered away in a small radius, creating a single enormous plume on either side that seemed to block out the edges of the commanders' visions forcing their full focus on the white banner in the distance. The men stopped in sheer shock of the in-time warning, the abruptness of all three actions dazing them as they halted mid-step.

HALT YOUR ADVANCE OR LETHAL FORCE WILL BE USED.

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" Vanguard, vanguard, take up your positions on the flanks of the perimeter. Watch where you drive, infantry is exiting with you."

The words shook Alexei from his thoughts, his mouth repeating the orders to his men before he could fully comprehend the command. His eyes barely registered the poor men pushing the gates open once again or the soldiers running up the stairs that led to the battlements on the walls, lugging ammo crates and machine guns as they climbed the arduous steps.

" Driver, forward and to the left, watch for infantry."

He flipped his radio channel over to the command network with his left hand almost instinctively as his right pushed the hatch above him open.

" Storm 0-2, Storm 0-1. We will take the left, you the right."

Receiving an affirmative, he finally pulled himself through the now open hatch and leaned out to the sides, watching the edges of the tank as they rolled through the gate. Once outside, the hardened, compacted ground from inside the suffocating walls turned to soft soil as the tanks drove out to their assigned positions, the Russian war machines tearing up the ground and throwing earth behind them. Men and women followed swiftly after them.

Ilya knew where to go, so Alexei looked out at the opposing force, his sight climbing then dipping as his T-72 entered the pre-dug hull down position in front of the infantry trenches.

The midday sun sparkled off the angled surfaces of the many plates of armour, the checkerboard of the silver and red adorned legions spread out along the plains beneath them, the multi-coloured allied kingdom's column reaching out to the next hill over. He was unable to make out the end of the column. Pulling his binoculars out, he scanned the closest cohorts, morbid thoughts began to fill his mind. Here he was, a thirty-five year old starshiy leytenant, staring out at a Roman legion marching towards him with the intent to kill him. And all he had was his trusty T-72B3 main battle tank and crew, not to mention the backing of a fraction of the UN, but that wasn't important. The fact that he was fighting a fucking legion from the Roman times with a fucking tank was ranking quite a few rungs above any thoughts about the UN.

His eyes caught on a flash of blue in the sea of silver and red, during his scan of the enemy. He barely caught it too, partially blocked by the bronze eagle standard that bobbed alongside it. That flash of blue itself partially blocked the sight that turned his thoughts from a fight with the enemy to a massacre of the enemy.

He had found the fourth soldier, the one who had not returned in a BTR, well…at least a part of him.

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The smoke dissipated within seconds, leaving the pitiful white banner to flap harmlessly in the wind above the gate. The enemy who sallied forth numbered just above 200, an inconsequential drop in the sea of men the Allied Kingdoms army had brought to bear. Sure they had 2 armoured elephants, but the Falmarti forces had 5 of the war beast. Sure they had sorcerers, but the legions were numerous, and all they had to do was overrun the walls and slaughter the cowards. Sure they had the high ground advantage, but who cares, they can't kill us all before we kill them.

Marquis Calasta chuckled to himself as his horse stepped forward in pace with his legions. He had played his cards correctly sucking up to the prince heir, now he commanded 2 of the empire's mighty legions, off to collect glory and riches from these new otherworlders. The last time this event played out, it was the El Caesar family who rose to prominence from their subjugation of the elves who had counterattacked after Saderan legions laid waste to their side of the Gate. The power they gained from enslaving those they could and forcing the remainder to go to ground on the continent formed a new era of the empire, one that could be named the El Caesar dynasty. Yet another name will soon join the El Caesar name in the annals of history, the one that had sought revenge the 6th and 7th corps, the one that had crushed the marauders who massacred the "Glorious Imperial Gladius" Second, and the one who avenged the second son of the El Caesar emperor. That name would be Calasta.

The march forward was called once again, the soldiers now wary of their foes, yet still held their heads high.

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Along the towering walls of UNF Alnus, the Indian and Russian artillery pieces swung their barrels into their previously zeroed fire zones and began loading their shells, the guns reaching their negative depression angles as the far reaching ranges the guns were made for were negated. Each cannon had its own emplacement built along the edges of the star, a concrete circle surrounded by sandbags which opened on the outer edge of the walls, allowing the cannon barrels the space to depress. The 30 year old 105mm OFB Indian Field Gun Mk2s and 50 year old 122mm D-30s could be called antiques in their own rights, cold war veterans still in active service, yet they fit perfectly in this archaic form of battle.

"Огонь!" "Fire!"*

The guns blasted away, deafening the men and vehicles of the forward defense line. The translated command's delay meant that the cannons were firing at different times, with barely a pause or overlap in between each gun. Unfortunately, this meant the forward defense line, who had been issued hearing protection, had said hearing protection tested with a non-stop barrage of out-going artillery as they were huddled in their trenches just underneath the guns. Even more unfortunate would be those on the receiving end of the ongoing rolling thunder.

First, fires flashed from the tops of the walls, loud thundering booms echoing over the hills. The next scene was apocalyptic for onlookers. Instantly after, the earth around and in the cohorts was thrown into the air with an incredibly short zip before another crack of thunder, followed immediately by another, and another, and another. Men and what was left of some were tossed and ripped apart as the explosions detonated in their packed ranks, red hot shrapnel from shells and iron shards formed from swords, shields, and armour whizzed through the air, impacting ground and flesh. The Allied Kingdom's column was paralyzed as the legions were decimated in front of their eyes, the earth itself shaking from the thunder striking the formations before them. The barrage was focused mainly at the centre of the legions, the flanks immediately routing from the sheer fear of what could be considered "the wrath of Gods".

The gun crews of the two nations were working overtime, as if they were competing against each other in their output of death. Gunners soon had nothing to shoot at, the legions dissipating alongside the smoke. Forward observers saw the exact same problem, new coordinates quickly collected and passed on.

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The Lion King of Elbe could not, for the love of the Gods, understand what had happened to the front of the column. He had heard the ear splitting thunder that still echoed in his head and surrounding hills. He had seen the great sprouts of earth that rose from the ground, taking men up in the air before throwing them back down. He had felt the earth underneath his knee rumble as if it had ingested something that had gone wrong, his own horse had panicked and ran. And yet, he understood none of it. Legionaries soon spirited past along the sides of the column, stripped of weapons and armour, their eyes wide and faces pale.

{LIGU! LIGU IS IN THE VAN, HE MUST KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON!}

A pause in the explosion roused him from his thoughts, rising to his feet and stepping forward, his own rentinue too shocked to even notice their charge had left them behind. Duran pushed through the masses of frozen men, elbowing past and shoving away the silent bodies.

Once again the thundering guns spewed fire, the shells this time striking emerald armour. As if the Gods had ordained it, a battered emerald bascinet rolled to Duran's feet, the peak shattered with a puncture hole the size of his fist. The Mudwan conscripts broke as the League hoplites fell, pushing through the ranks to their rear in frenzied panic. This then shattered the militias behind them, rank by rank the men ran, trampling any in their path.

Duran picked up the helmet as he watched the mob rout, his thoughts still on his old friend. Yet now was not a time to mourn. Stepping back into his own troop's ranks, his voice awoke his veterans to action.

" FORMARE PHALANGEM!"

Grunts sounded out as the men's bodies exerted their strength, bronze shields raised and spears held overhand ready. The Elbians stayed their hands as the panicked mob crashed into their shields, the soldiers holding their bulwark against the tide.

Another order rang out, " RELINQUERE!"

Step by step, the hoplites reversed, slowly retreating from the battle orderly. The monsters in the centre of their formation confused, but not alarmed.

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" CEASE FIRE!"

" ПРЕКРАТИТЬ СТРЕЛЬБУ!"

The command was repeated over and over across the line, gun crews stopping to finally rest, loaders sitting in exhaustion and gunners attempting to steady their trembling hands.

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Right then, that's this chapter finished.

I'm extremely surprised that no one has complained about the sheer amount of bad grammar and mistakes I have made in the previous chapters. I mean, I had (insert) as a placeholder as I forgot to put the Indian IFVs in and the italics and bold didn't import into fanfiction, but no one said a word. How low was everyone's expectations for crying out loud?! Anyways I took a bit of time and fixed everything I found. So it took me so long to get this chapter finished that an invasion happened. Hopefully this chapter lives up to taking this long to wait for, but once again I can't say how long it will take before I get the next one out. With the Russo-Ukrainian war raging on, I just want to note that nothing I write should be seen as propaganda nor anything close to reality. Russian forces in this story are based on the proposed modernisation back in 2010 and anything the Russians do in this story is purely for this story and nothing else.

* I couldn't find a proper translation in Hindi for "fire" in the sense of "open fire" or "shoot". Google translate gives me some Hindi characters that are pronounced quite literally as "fire", so I am just using that. Please, if anyone knows how to properly write it, let me know.