Chapter 30: The Irnetia Crisis Part 10
A Forest Near Capital City Kilcrus, Irnetia Kingdom
The dawn broke over the forest like a hammer against steel, casting an eerie orange light that painted the dense canopy in shadows and fire. The sun's early rays cut through the mist that clung to the trees, turning the morning into a scene from a nightmare. The air was thick with tension, and the birds, usually so vocal at this hour, were ominously silent. Not a single chirp or rustle disturbed the unnatural stillness, as if nature itself had withdrawn in fear of the impending violence. The forest, once a tranquil sanctuary, now felt like the darkened halls of an execution chamber, awaiting its first blood.
The Milishial forces, led by Colonel Akito Markto and Major Elise Kain, stood poised for their advance. They were no ordinary soldiers; they were the elite, the vanguard of the Holy Milishial Empire's might, encased in the towering, humanoid war machines known as Golem Frames. These massive constructs, a fusion of arcane magic and advanced technology, loomed like giants among the trees. Their surfaces, a mix of cold steel and enchanted alloys, glistened with dew and the first rays of the morning sun, but there was nothing warm about them. They were the embodiment of destruction, weapons of war designed to dominate any battlefield.
Colonel Markto, encased within the imposing bulk of his Alexander Golem Frame, stood at the forefront of the advancing Milishial troops. His cockpit was a claustrophobic cage of reinforced glass and steel, filled with the low hum of machinery and the soft glow of tactical displays. Every breath he took was filtered through the rebreather system, the scent of metal and machinery mingling with the cold air. The dim, amber lights of his console reflected off his stern features, casting shadows under his eyes, making him look older than his years. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, scanned the displays before him, absorbing every detail of the battlefield. His voice, when he spoke, was steady and commanding, cutting through the pre-dawn silence like a knife.
"We'll advance towards the cave," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for doubt or discussion. "Expect resistance, but our primary objective remains securing the area and locating the king. We are the sword of the Empire. We do not falter."
In the back of his mind, Markto knew that they had been drawn into a conflict far more complex than a simple retrieval mission. The Chinese had shown themselves to be more than just formidable; they were cunning, ruthless, and relentless. But so was he. The failures of the previous day had only steeled his resolve, sharpening his focus to a deadly point. He clenched his fists around the controls, feeling the Golem Frame respond to his slightest touch with the fluidity of a living creature. He would not fail again.
The forest, normally a serene haven, had transformed into a cacophony of pre-battle activity. The Milishial mechas, towering mechanical giants of arcane and technological design, moved with deliberate precision through the underbrush. Each step of their massive feet crushed foliage and earth beneath them, the ground trembling under their weight. The forest seemed to groan in protest as ancient trees were torn from the earth, their roots snapping like brittle bones. Advanced sensors embedded within the Golem Frames scanned the terrain with ruthless efficiency, sweeping the area for any sign of the enemy.
The Type-09 'Judgement' Mana-Compressed Assault Rifles they carried hummed with a low, ominous blue light, the compressed mana within coiled like a viper ready to strike. The weapon was a marvel of Milishial craftsmanship, capable of tearing through armor and flesh with equal ease. At their sides hung mono-molecule knives, their edges so fine they could slice through the toughest armor like butter. These blades, enchanted to cut through almost anything, were the silent executioners of the Milishial arsenal. Mounted on their shoulders were heavy mortars and 225mm anti-fortress bazookas, weapons designed to obliterate enemy strongholds with a single, concussive blast. The Golem Frames were walking arsenals, each one a juggernaut capable of laying waste to entire platoons.
Major Elise Kain, her hands moving with practiced ease across the controls of her Golem Frame, kept a vigilant watch on her HUD. Streams of data flowed across the screen, showing environmental readouts, unit positions, and threat assessments. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, darted across the information, processing it faster than most humans could. The weight of command pressed on her, a familiar burden that she bore with pride. She knew the stakes; this mission was more than just a battle—it was a statement. The Chinese forces had proven themselves cunning and resourceful, and she knew better than to underestimate them.
"Stay vigilant!" Kain's voice crackled over the comms, sharp and commanding. "The Chinese are masters of deception. Watch for anything out of the ordinary. Do not let your guard down for a second. They will try to mislead us, and they will fail."
As if in response to her words, the forest seemed to shift, shadows lengthening and the air growing colder. It was a sensation she had felt before, the uneasy feeling that they were being watched, that the enemy was closer than they realized. But her resolve did not waver. She had faced worse, and she would lead her troops through this, no matter the cost.
Unbeknownst to them, hidden among the rolling hills just beyond the forest, Captain Sun Tao's artillery units were already in position. The Chinese PCL-181 self-propelled howitzers, mounted on sturdy 8x8 wheeled chassis, had their 155mm guns aimed skyward, locked onto pre-calculated coordinates. The crews, hardened veterans of countless skirmishes, waited with grim satisfaction for the order to fire. They were ghosts in the mist, their presence concealed by the natural contours of the land and the thick foliage. The artillery crews moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, each man knowing his role to perfection.
"Artillery is set," Captain Sun Tao's voice came over the comms, carrying a note of grim satisfaction. There was a cold confidence in his tone, a certainty that came from knowing he held the power of life and death in his hands. "We're ready to commence fire on your signal."
Without warning, the first wave of artillery fire erupted, shattering the stillness of the forest with a series of deafening roars. The earth shook violently as the shells detonated, each explosion sending shockwaves rippling through the ground and splinters of wood and debris flying into the air. The noise was overwhelming, a constant barrage that drowned out all other sounds. Trees were ripped apart, their trunks splintering like matchsticks, while the ground erupted in geysers of dirt and rock. Smoke billowed from the impact zones, thick and choking, obscuring vision and adding to the chaos. The air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and burning wood, a scent that mixed with the metallic tang of blood that was sure to follow.
"Incoming!" Major Kain shouted as her mecha's sensors screamed warnings of the incoming barrage. The Milishial forces began to maneuver through the forest, their heavy footfalls creating a rhythm of war, the sound of metal against earth mingling with the distant echoes of artillery. "The Chinese are trying to herd us into a trap. Watch your flanks and keep your eyes open for anything suspicious!"
She gritted her teeth as her Golem Frame dodged the incoming fire, its massive form moving with a speed that belied its size. The explosions were relentless, each one closer than the last, each one a reminder of the deadly game they were playing. But she would not be intimidated. She was a warrior, forged in the fires of countless battles, and she would see this through to the end.
The Milishial Golem Frames pressed on, their advanced sensors scanning for any signs of further ambushes, but the sheer volume of firepower was relentless. As they pushed deeper into the forest, the terrain began to shift, sloping gently downward into a lowland area. Here, the trees became sparser, the thick canopy giving way to open patches where the ground was more visible. The forest that had once provided cover and concealment now felt like it was receding, exposing them to greater danger.
The lower land, with its scattered trees and increasingly muddy ground, offered little protection from the barrage. The once-dense forest had thinned out, leaving only a few trees standing like silent witnesses to the approaching disaster. The undergrowth was less dense, replaced by marshy patches and small streams that slowed the Golem Frames as they trudged through. The artillery fire continued unabated, each explosion sending shockwaves through the ground and adding to the sense of impending doom.
The trap was springing into place with deadly precision. The Milishial forces, now more exposed, realized the peril they were in, but there was no turning back. The terrain had funneled them into this lowland, and the Chinese forces were taking full advantage, unleashing their full might upon the beleaguered mechas.
Lieutenant Zhang Hong's engineering team, hidden from sight, had prepared for this moment with meticulous care. The dam, Caisleán, a massive structure of concrete and steel, was rigged with high-yield explosives designed to unleash a flood of biblical proportions. The engineers worked with silent efficiency, their movements swift and practiced, as they made the final preparations. Each wire was checked and rechecked, each charge placed with exacting precision. The dam, a testament to humanity's ability to control nature, was now poised to become a weapon in their arsenal.
"Dam rigged and ready," Zhang Hong reported through the comms, his voice steady despite the tension of the moment. His heart raced, but his hands remained steady, his mind focused on the task at hand. "Awaiting your signal."
Meanwhile, the Milishial forces quickly realized that the artillery barrage was more than just a random attack. The pattern was too precise, the bombardment too targeted—it was clear that the Chinese forces were attempting to funnel them into a specific area. Sensing the danger, Colonel Markto issued a new command.
"Controlled retreat!" Colonel Markto's voice boomed over the comms, firm and decisive. "Pull back in formation, but keep your guard up. Do not break ranks!"
His forces, though battered, responded with the discipline honed through countless battles. They began to fall back, moving as one cohesive unit, their movements synchronized even under the relentless artillery fire. But even as they retreated, the terrain around them began to shift. The once dense forest thinned out, the trees growing sparse, the ground sloping gently downward into a lowland area.
The landscape was subtly guiding them toward a trap, one they could sense but not fully comprehend. The Milishial Golem Frames, powerful as they were, were being maneuvered into a kill zone—a place where their size and strength could be turned against them.
Above the valley, Major Liu Xue's team observed the unfolding chaos with unblinking focus. The well-concealed observation post was alive with activity, the screens awash with the digital glow of UAV feeds. Each drone, a silent sentinel in the sky, captured the grim dance of war below in high definition. The shifting terrain, the thinning forest, the strain on the Milishial forces—it was all playing out exactly as planned.
"Major Liu, they're in position," an operator announced, his voice tense as he pointed to a cluster of enemy units on the monitor. The Milishial mechas, hulking beasts of arcane and mechanical might, had advanced into the lowland—unknowingly into the jaws of the Chinese trap.
"Lieutenant Zhang," Liu Xue's voice was calm, almost cold, betraying none of the tension that gripped her team. "Begin the operation."
Lieutenant Zhang Hong, positioned in the heart of the demolition team, gripped the detonator in his gloved hand. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the culmination of meticulous planning and grim anticipation. "All charges ready?" he asked, though he knew the answer.
"Ready, Lieutenant," a voice confirmed from his earpiece, the final go-ahead he needed.
Zhang Hong's breath hitched for just a second, then he spoke the words that would change the fate of the battle. "Detonate."
The command echoed through the valley, and an instant later, the dam—once a towering testament to human engineering—erupted in a cataclysmic explosion. The blast was a thunderclap of destruction, a roar that seemed to rip the very air apart. Concrete, steel, and earth were vaporized in a blinding flash, and then, as if released from a monstrous cage, the reservoir's waters surged forward, transformed into an unstoppable tidal wave.
"Explosion confirmed," Liu Xue's voice remained level, but her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the console, eyes fixed on the screen. The flood was more than just water; it was a force of annihilation, a churning, frothing mass of debris, earth, and death, sweeping down the valley with a roar that drowned out even the sound of the explosion.
The lowland, serene just moments ago, was consumed in an instant. Trees were uprooted and flung like matchsticks, their trunks splintering under the crushing weight of the water. The earth itself seemed to dissolve, the once-solid ground transforming into a quagmire of mud and debris, a graveyard for anything caught within.
"Flood's underway!" Wang Xin's voice crackled over the comms, the urgency in his tone unmistakable. "The mechas are being affected. They're struggling to maintain their footing!"
On the battlefield, the Milishial mechas were caught off guard, their towering forms now dwarfed by the elemental fury unleashed upon them. The water slammed into their frames with the force of a freight train, servos groaning under the strain as the machines fought to stay upright. The sophisticated gyroscopic stabilizers, normally so precise, were overwhelmed by the sheer power of the flood, their movements sluggish and unsteady.
"Colonel Markto, we're bogged down!" Major Kain's voice was sharp with panic, the desperation bleeding through as she wrestled with the controls of her Golem Frame. The mecha, once a marvel of both arcane and technological mastery, now seemed helpless in the face of nature's wrath. The water, thick with mud and debris, churned around the legs of the machines, destabilizing them with each violent surge. "The flood is making it impossible to maneuver. We need to find higher ground, now!"
Colonel Markto's expression was set in a grim, determined mask. The tactical HUD in front of him was a mess of flashing red warnings and critical alerts, each one a reminder of just how dire the situation had become. The sensors tracked the rapidly rising water levels, the compromised positions of his units, and the relentless approach of the flood, painting a picture of near-certain defeat.
"Fall back to the high ground!" Markto ordered, his voice a lifeline amidst the chaos. It cut through the comms, clear and commanding. "We'll regroup there and reassess. We still have a mission to complete. We will not fail!"
The order was easier said than done. The Milishial mechas turned to retreat, their massive frames struggling against the current that sought to drag them under. But as they began to move, the first retaliation came.
The 225mm anti-fortress bazookas mounted on the mechas' shoulders roared to life, launching missile the weight of small motorbikes but with magic explosive power of anti-ship missiles. The projectiles cut through the air, their paths marked by thick trails of smoke, before slamming into the hillsides where the Chinese forces had taken cover. The impact was apocalyptic—massive explosions that shook the ground, sending up geysers of dirt, rock, and shattered trees.
Chunks of the hillside were torn apart, the landscape reshaped by the sheer destructive force of the bombardment. But the Chinese forces had anticipated this. The high ground was fortified, the artillery units ready and waiting. As the Milishial shells rained down, the Chinese artillery returned fire, launching counter-barrages with pinpoint precision.
"Fire at will!" Markto's voice was fierce, a rallying cry against the overwhelming odds. The Milishial mechas, though battered, responded with renewed ferocity. Each bazooka fired in a relentless rhythm, the sky lit up with the flashes of their massive shells. The explosions carved deep craters into the hills, but the Chinese were dug in, their positions strong and well-defended.
The battlefield was a vision of hell. The floodwaters, thick with the wreckage of battle, surged around the mechas, turning the lowland into a chaotic mire. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the deafening roar of artillery. Each explosion sent shockwaves rippling through the ground, the very earth trembling under the onslaught.
Colonel Markto's mind raced, calculating, analyzing, searching for a way out of the trap. The mission to rescuce King Irtis XIII was hanging by a thread, and every second counted. The Milishial forces, once so confident, were now fighting for their lives, their advanced systems taxed to the limit by the relentless assault.
"Hold your ground!" Markto's voice was edged with determination, but there was no mistaking the strain. "We will find a way out of this. The king will not escape us!"
But even as he spoke, reality bore down with crushing clarity. The Chinese had outmaneuvered them at every turn, and the noose was tightening. The floodwaters continued to rise, the relentless artillery fire hammering their positions. The Milishial mechas, their movements increasingly sluggish and strained, were losing the battle against the elements.
"Gods damn it, we're sinking!" Major Elise Kain's voice cut through the radio chatter, trembling with a mixture of frustration and terror. Her Golem Frame, a towering behemoth of steel and magic, was bogged down in the floodwaters that had turned the battlefield into a quagmire. The once-stable ground beneath her was now a chaotic morass, each step threatening to pull the mecha under. The advanced sensors and stabilization systems that had been reliable in countless engagements were now overwhelmed by the relentless surge of water and mud.
The floodwaters, thick with churned silt and debris, lapped against the Golem Frame's armor. The mecha's legs, designed for stability and agility, sank deeper into the mire with every movement. The once-crisp readouts on Kain's HUD were now a blur of warnings and alerts, the system struggling to keep pace with the deteriorating conditions. Every attempt to extricate the mecha from the sucking mud was met with resistance, the servos straining and emitting a high-pitched whine.
In the midst of this chaos, Major Li Wei's Type-99 tanks emerged from their hidden positions. The tanks had been meticulously camouflaged with foliage and natural cover, their arrival marked by the thunderous roar of their engines and the crashing of disturbed undergrowth. The ST-16 millimeter wave radar suite of the Type-99A MBTs immediately came online, scanning the battlefield with a precision that cut through the swirling mist and debris. The advanced fire control system, boasting a new 3rd generation thermal imaging sight, ballistic computer, and weather measurement sensors, provided a critical advantage despite the adverse conditions.
The tanks' 125mm ZPT-100 smoothbore guns, with their advanced fire control systems, began their deadly work. Each shell, carefully loaded into the carousel-style autoloader, was a marvel of modern munitions. The DTW-125 Type IV APFSDS-T (Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot-Tracer) shells were designed to penetrate 1100 mm of Rolled Homogeneous Armor (RHA) at 1200 meters. As the first salvo struck a Golem Frame on its exposed flank, the results were catastrophic. The high-velocity APFSDS-T shell pierced through the mecha's armor with brutal efficiency, tearing through its side and igniting a massive explosion. The fireball that erupted from the impact sent shrapnel and debris raining down, creating a hellish landscape of fire and destruction.
The Type-99 tanks continued their relentless assault, their firepower proving devastatingly effective against the beleaguered Milishial mechas. Each shot from the 125mm gun was meticulously aimed, the advanced targeting systems allowing the gunners to adjust for the chaotic weather. A follow-up volley of GP125 ATGMs streaked through the mist, their tandem-shaped charge warheads designed to destroy even the most resilient of targets. The missiles struck another Golem Frame, disintegrating its right arm and causing it to collapse into the rising waters. The flood surged around the stricken machine, partially submerging it and further complicating the already dire situation.
"Markto, we're losing ground fast!" Kain's voice was taut with desperation. The mecha's powerful actuators groaned under the strain as she fought to maintain control. Each step felt like a monumental effort, the mecha's legs sinking deeper into the muck. The artillery and tank fire rained down, shaking the Golem Frame violently and throwing off Kain's balance. The once-proud mecha, with its advanced magical and technological systems, was now struggling against the elements and the relentless enemy fire.
Colonel Akito Markto, observing from his vantage point, felt the weight of the situation pressing down on him. His tactical HUD was a chaotic mess of red alerts and flashing warnings. The once-imposing Golem Frames under his command were now battered and struggling to maintain their cohesion. The floodwaters and relentless tank fire had turned what was meant to be a strategic push into a desperate fight for survival. Markto's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and resolute. "Hold it together, Kain! We have our orders—reach the king at all costs. If we fail, it's not just Irnetia that falls; it's our honor. The shame of failure isn't something we can afford. We press on!"
The urgency in Markto's voice was palpable, his eyes locked onto the live feeds from the battlefield. Despite the dire circumstances, surrender was not an option. The Golem Frames roared back into action, retaliating with their 225mm anti-fortress bazookas. These formidable weapons, as powerful as dedicated anti-ship missiles, were a significant threat. Each bazooka shot, imbued with magical properties, streaked through the misty air with a trail of fire and smoke. The explosions were thunderous, creating craters and sending debris flying. The force of the impacts battered the Type-99 tanks, with some indirect hits causing severe damage.
Despite the onslaught from the bazookas, the Type-99 tanks remained relentless. The tanks' advanced targeting systems, including the panoramic sight with laser range-finding capabilities, allowed the crews to track and engage the Golem Frames with deadly precision. Each shot from the 125mm gun was a testament to the tank's firepower. The tanks' 12 rounds per minute rate of fire, enabled by the autoloader, ensured a sustained and relentless barrage, delivering each shot with ruthless efficiency.
The battlefield was a scene of relentless destruction. The floodwaters continued to rise, churning with debris and wreckage. The Golem Frames, now fighting against both the elements and the overwhelming enemy fire, struggled to maintain their position. The Type-99 tanks, camouflaged and strategically positioned, continued their assault, their firepower carving a path through the enemy's defenses.
Major Elise Kain fought to maintain control of her Golem Frame as it struggled against the encroaching floodwaters. The powerful actuators and servos groaned under the strain, their mechanical joints straining to keep the massive machine upright. The Golem Frame's sensors, once so reliable, were now a blur of warnings and errors, struggling to keep pace with the rapidly changing conditions.
As the floodwaters reached the upper sections of the Golem Frames, the situation grew more desperate. Kain's HUD displayed a constant barrage of alerts, each one a reminder of the dire situation. The powerful magic-enhanced warheads from the bazookas continued to wreak havoc on the Type-99 tanks, their explosions creating a chaotic and deadly environment.
Colonel Akito Markto, watching the battle unfold, felt the pressure of command weighing heavily on him. The tactical situation was deteriorating, and the losses mounted. The once-proud Golem Frames, symbols of Milishial strength, were now struggling against the overwhelming firepower of the Type-99 tanks and the relentless floodwaters. Despite the dire circumstances, Markto's voice remained resolute, driven by the need to see the mission through to the end.
Just as the Golem Frames struggled to hold their ground against the relentless tank assault, the horizon darkened with the arrival of a new menace. The sky, already thick with smoke and the stench of burning fuel, grew more oppressive as the Z-10 attack helicopters came into view. Sleek and menacing, the helicopters descended upon the battlefield like predators sensing an opportunity. Their rotors sliced through the thick smoke, the rhythmic thrum adding a new layer of dread to the battlefield's cacophony.
"Incoming!" a panicked voice shouted over the comms as the Z-10s unleashed a salvo of HJ-10 anti-tank missiles. The projectiles streaked through the air, their trails of fire and smoke leaving arcs of death in their wake. One missile found its mark, slamming into the shoulder of a Golem Frame with a thunderous explosion. The blast tore through the armor, sending chunks of metal and components flying in all directions. The mecha staggered, its systems flickering and sparking as it struggled to remain upright. A second missile followed, striking the mecha's chest and detonating with a blinding flash of light and heat. The Golem Frame shuddered under the impact, its armored hull buckling inward before the machine toppled, crashing into the floodwaters with a colossal splash.
The scene was one of utter devastation. The once-proud Golem Frames, symbols of Milishial's might, were now reduced to smoldering wrecks scattered across the battlefield. The floodwaters, dark and churning, were filled with the debris of war—twisted metal, shattered trees, and the lifeless hulks of mechas that had once towered above the battlefield. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning fuel and the sharp tang of ozone from the discharged mana weapons.
"Captain Hu Jun, target eliminated," the voice of one of the Z-10 pilots crackled through the comms, tinged with grim satisfaction. The helicopters banked sharply, their sleek forms cutting through the air as they circled back for another pass. Below, the surviving Milishial mechas fought desperately to regroup, their movements sluggish and disjointed as they battled both the floodwaters and the relentless assault from above.
"Keep up the pressure!" Captain Hu Jun's voice was sharp, filled with a cold determination. "Don't let them regroup. We've got them on the ropes!"
The Z-10s, their missile pods reloaded, swooped in for another strike. Their targeting systems locked onto the struggling mechas below, the reticles flashing red as the pilots lined up their shots. With a press of a button, another volley of HJ-10 missiles roared from their launch tubes, streaking towards their targets with lethal intent.
The missiles impacted with brutal force, their tandem warheads designed to punch through even the thickest armor. Another Golem Frame, its movements hampered by the rising floodwaters, took a direct hit to its left leg. The explosion was catastrophic, the blast tearing through the limb and severing it at the joint. The mecha collapsed, its balance destroyed, and crashed into the water with a thunderous splash. The pilot, trapped within the cockpit, could do nothing as the floodwaters surged around the crippled machine, slowly pulling it under.
"Colonel Markto, we're getting slaughtered out here!" a panicked voice broke through the comms, filled with fear and desperation. "We can't hold this position much longer!"
Markto's jaw clenched as he listened to the reports coming in from his beleaguered troops. The battlefield was a nightmare, a swirling maelstrom of water, mud, and fire. The Chinese forces had planned their attack with ruthless precision, using the floodwaters to trap the Milishial mechas in a deadly kill zone.
As the Z-10s continued their merciless assault, Lieutenant Wang Xin's UAS Flight 'Shadow Wing' added to the horror. The CH-901 suicide drones, small but deadly, zipped across the battlefield like avenging spirits. Their high-pitched whines cut through the roar of battle as they dove towards the beleaguered Milishial mechas.
"Suicide drones deployed," Wang Xin's voice came over the comms, cold and clinical. There was no need for emotion; the battlefield was no place for such things. "Engaging targets now."
The CH-901 drones, carrying their payloads of high-explosive warheads, homed in on their targets with chilling precision. Each drone, guided by sophisticated algorithms and real-time data from the UAVs circling above, weaved through the air with terrifying speed, their sleek forms barely visible against the chaos below.
One drone zeroed in on a Golem Frame that had become stuck in the thick, clinging mud. The pilot inside struggled desperately to free the machine, but his efforts were in vain. The drone swooped down in a sharp, deadly dive, its warhead detonating on impact. The explosion tore the Golem Frame apart from the inside, the force of the blast vaporizing its armor and sending chunks of metal flying in every direction. The mecha's torso was ripped open like a tin can, its internal systems shorting out in a shower of sparks before the entire machine collapsed into a heap of smoking, twisted metal.
Another drone targeted a Golem Frame that had managed to retreat to the relative safety of the high ground near the cave entrance. The pilot, thinking he was safe for a moment, quickly realized his mistake as the drone came screaming down from the sky. The drone's shaped charge warhead struck with pinpoint accuracy, penetrating the Golem Frame's armor before detonating inside. The resulting explosion was catastrophic, the blast ripping through the mecha's core and sending a plume of fire and shrapnel skyward. The machine, once a symbol of Milishial's technological superiority, was reduced to a smoldering wreck, its pilot crushed beneath the twisted metal remains.
The scene on the ground was nothing short of apocalyptic. The forest had been transformed into a charred wasteland, the floodwaters now a churning, debris-filled mire. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning metal and the metallic tang of blood. Bodies of Milishial soldiers lay strewn across the battlefield, their forms mangled beyond recognition by the relentless bombardment. The once-mighty Golem Frames were now little more than wreckage, their advanced technology no match for the brute force of Chinese firepower.
"All units, fall back to the forest!" Markto's voice was iron-hard, filled with the resolve of a man who knew that retreat was the only option left. "We need to regroup and reassess. The king is still our priority, but we can't do anything if we're all dead!"
The surviving Golem Frames, their once-proud forms now battered and scarred, began to retreat towards the forest. Their movements were slow and laborious, each step a struggle against the rising floodwaters and the unrelenting assault from above. The air was filled with the roar of rotors and the deafening explosions of missiles and artillery shells. The ground shook with each impact, sending tremors through the waterlogged earth.
But the Chinese forces were relentless. As the Golem Frames retreated, the CH-901 suicide drones, small and deadly, darted through the air like angry hornets. Their guidance systems locked onto the retreating mechas, and one by one, they began their lethal dives.
"Watch out for the drones!" a voice shouted over the comms, filled with urgency and fear. "They're coming in fast!"
The first drone, its sleek form barely visible against the smoky backdrop, zeroed in on a retreating Golem Frame. The pilot, desperate to evade the incoming threat, tried to maneuver the mecha out of the drone's path. But the mud and water hampered his movements, and the drone struck with pinpoint accuracy. The explosion was devastating, the high-explosive warhead detonating with a blinding flash of light and heat. The mecha was thrown backward, its armor buckling under the force of the blast. It crashed into the floodwaters, its systems sparking and failing as the pilot struggled to regain control.
Another drone targeted a Golem Frame that had almost reached the forest entrance. The mecha's pilot, determined to make it to safety, pushed the machine to its limits, the servos whining in protest as the Golem Frame slogged through the mud. But the drone was faster, its guidance systems homing in on the massive machine with deadly precision. The explosion rocked the battlefield, the blast tearing through the mecha's armor and sending a shower of debris flying in all directions. The Golem Frame crumpled, its massive form collapsing into the mud and water as the pilot's screams echoed over the comms.
"Get those damn drones off us!" Kain's voice was filled with frustration and rage as she struggled to fend off the relentless assault. Her Golem Frame's mana-compressed assault rifle barked, the weapon spitting out bolts of energy that lanced through the air towards the hovering drones. But for every drone she shot down, another seemed to take its place, the sky filled with the ominous hum of their engines.
"Fall back! Fall back now!" Markto's voice was a command, filled with the urgency of a man who knew that time was running out. The remaining Golem Frames, battered and bloodied, pushed towards the forest entrance, their movements frantic and desperate.
But even as they retreated, the Chinese forces continued their assault. The Z-10 helicopters, their missile pods depleted, switched to their 30mm autocannons, the heavy rounds tearing through the air with a deadly whine. The tracers lit up the sky, their arcs of fire crisscrossing the battlefield as the helicopters strafed the retreating mechas.
The battlefield was a scene of utter devastation. The once-proud Golem Frames were reduced to smoldering wrecks, their twisted forms half-submerged in the churning floodwaters. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and burning metal.
As the darkness of the battlefield deepened, the ominous roar of Xi'an H-18 heavy bombers of the 24th Regiment, 8th Bomber Division, grew louder. These colossal aircraft, products of decades of meticulous design and engineering by the Xi'an Aircraft Industrial Corporation, were unparalleled in their destructive potential. The H-18s were inspired by the stolen design of the Soviet Tu-160, acquired during the chaos of the Russian 2nd Civil War in 1992, and refined into a weapon of unmatched capability. With a wingspan that could shift from swept-back for supersonic flight to wide and extended for low-speed operations, these bombers were the epitome of versatility in aerial warfare.
The H-18s were the largest and heaviest Mach 3+ supersonic military aircraft ever constructed, rivaling the experimental XB-70 Valkyrie in both overall length and top speed. Their variable-sweep wings allowed them to transition seamlessly between different flight modes, making them capable of both rapid strikes and prolonged loitering over a battlefield. The aircraft could carry a staggering 55,000 kilograms of weaponry, distributed across two cavernous internal bays. Each bay could be configured to hold either free-fall bombs or a rotary launcher for missiles, including those with nuclear warheads. This massive payload capacity made the H-18s formidable airborne platforms, capable of delivering both conventional and nuclear strikes with precision and devastating effect.
Inside one of these aerial behemoths, the crew operated with the precision of a well-oiled machine. The pilot, bombardier, and other specialists communicated in clipped, calm tones, their focus unwavering despite the enormity of the task before them. The cockpit was filled with the soft hum of electronics and the occasional beep of a targeting system locking onto its objective. The crew knew that they held the power to unleash destruction on a scale rarely seen in the annals of warfare, and they bore this responsibility with a cold, professional detachment.
"Approaching target zone," the bombardier reported, his voice devoid of emotion as he peered through the advanced targeting systems that allowed them to deliver their payloads with terrifying accuracy. The bombing coordinates were already locked, and the sophisticated onboard computers were calculating the optimal release points for their weapons.
As the H-18s closed in on their target, the anticipation in the cockpit was palpable. The crew members exchanged brief, terse acknowledgments as they prepared to execute their deadly mission. Outside, the night was alive with the chaos of battle, but inside the bomber, there was only the focused calm of men who had been trained to deliver death from the skies.
From her command post, Major Liu Xue watched the unfolding events with a keen eye. Her role in this operation was to coordinate the air strikes with the ground forces, ensuring that the timing and precision of the bombers' attack would maximize the impact on the enemy. "Release the Tiangang GL-21 cluster bombs," she ordered, her voice cool and controlled. "Time to show them what real firepower looks like."
The bomb bays of the H-18s opened, revealing the deadly cargo within—massive 3000-kg Tiangang GL-21 precision-guided gliding cluster bombs. Each bomb, a marvel of modern engineering, was designed to deliver widespread devastation. The GL-21s were equipped with fold-out wings that allowed them to glide over long distances, homing in on their targets with unerring precision. Once they reached their designated release altitude, the bombs would open up, scattering dozens of submunitions—each one a high-explosive anti-tank or anti-personnel warhead—over a wide area.
"Bombs away," the pilot announced, his tone calm as he pressed the release button. The GL-21s slipped free from the bombers, their wings deploying almost immediately, catching the wind as they began their lethal descent.
As the bombs glided silently toward the earth, the battlefield below was a scene of pure devastation. The floodwaters had transformed the lowland into a churning swamp of mud and debris, where the Milishial mechas, once proud and powerful, struggled to maintain their footing. The drones had already inflicted severe damage, and the relentless artillery bombardment had left the terrain littered with craters and shattered trees. But what was coming would make all that seemed like a prelude to the true horror.
"Bombs are in the glide phase. Estimated time to impact: thirty seconds," Major Liu Xue reported. Her eyes were fixed on the live feed from the bombers, showing the cluster bombs as they soared through the air, their trajectories perfectly aligned with the Milishial forces below. "Prepare for hell."
On the ground, Colonel Akito Markto sensed the impending doom. His Golem Frame was battered but still operational. He had seen the devastation that the Chinese forces could unleash, but this was beyond anything he had anticipated. The sight of the H-18s overhead filled him with a deep, gnawing dread.
"All units, brace for impact! Scatter and seek cover!" Markto's voice boomed over the comms, commanding his troops with the authority of a seasoned warrior. His eyes were locked on the sky, where the bombs were descending, their ominous shapes growing larger with each passing second.
"Colonel, we can't outrun those bombs!" Major Elise Kain's voice crackled through the comms, thick with desperation. Her mecha was in no better shape than Markto's, its armor scorched and rent by previous attacks. She struggled to maneuver it through the muck, every step a Herculean effort as the machine's damaged servos strained against the weight of the mud and debris. "We're sitting ducks out here!"
"I know, Major! But we have to try! Get to the high ground and disperse! We need to minimize the damage!" Markto's response was sharp, filled with the urgency of a man who knew that every second counted. "This isn't just a battle—it's survival now!"
The GL-21 bombs reached their release points and opened up like dark flowers blooming in the sky. Their casings split apart, and from within, a swarm of submunitions poured forth, each one programmed to seek out and destroy specific types of targets. The anti-tank submunitions, equipped with shaped-charge warheads, homed in on the struggling Golem Frames, while the anti-personnel munitions were designed to scatter over a wide area, detonating with deadly shrapnel that would cut down anything in their path.
The first wave of submunitions hit the ground with devastating effect. A cluster of anti-tank bomblets zeroed in on a Golem Frame that was attempting to climb out of the floodwaters. The mecha, its pilot desperately trying to evade, was struck by multiple hits in quick succession. The shaped charges blasted through its armor, piercing the vital systems within. The mecha convulsed as explosions tore through its frame, and within moments, it was nothing more than a twisted wreck, slumping back into the mud as its pilot was obliterated by the blast.
Another group of submunitions descended on a section of the battlefield where several Milishial soldiers had taken cover, trying to escape the floodwaters. The bomblets exploded in mid-air, showering the area with deadly fragments. The soldiers, caught in the open, were torn apart by the shrapnel, their bodies shredded as the explosions ripped through flesh and bone. Blood and gore splattered across the churned-up earth, mingling with the mud and water to create a scene of unspeakable horror.
Major Kain, her mecha barely operational, watched in horror as a GL-21's submunitions descended on her position. She struggled to move, to get out of the way, but it was too late. The bomblets struck her Golem Frame with pinpoint accuracy, each explosion rocking the machine as it was pounded from all sides. The armor buckled and split open, exposing the delicate machinery within. Kain screamed as the cockpit filled with smoke and fire, the temperature rising rapidly as the systems overloaded and began to fail. She tried to eject, but the mechanism was damaged, leaving her trapped inside the burning wreck. Her final moments were a nightmare of searing pain and helplessness as the flames consumed her, and then, mercifully, there was nothing.
The entire lowland was transformed into a hellscape. The GL-21 bombs had done their work with terrifying efficiency, leaving behind a wasteland of craters, wreckage, and the charred remains of what had once been a formidable fighting force. The Milishial mechas, those that were still functional, were scattered and disoriented, their ranks decimated by the relentless assault.
Colonel Markto, his Golem Frame heavily damaged but still intact, surveyed the devastation with a mixture of horror and disbelief. His forces had been utterly crushed, their mission now a distant, impossible dream. The Chinese had outmaneuvered and outgunned them at every turn, and now they were on the brink of annihilation.
"All units, fall back to the forest! We need to regroup and find a defensible position!" Markto's voice was strained, but there was no mistaking the resolve in his words. He would not go down without a fight, no matter how dire the situation. "We may have lost the battle, but this war is far from over!"
The surviving Milishial forces, what little remained of them, began to retreat towards the treeline, their movements slow and painful as they fought to escape the ruined battlefield. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning metal and flesh, the ground beneath them slick with blood and oil. Every step was a reminder of the carnage they had witnessed, the lives lost in the blink of an eye.
But the Chinese forces were relentless. Captain Sun Tao's artillery, positioned on a ridge overlooking the battlefield, continued to rain fire down on the retreating Milishial mechas. The 155mm howitzers, their barrels glowing from the constant barrage, fired shell after shell with deadly accuracy. Each shell, encased in a sleek, aerodynamic casing, was packed with high-explosive charges designed to maximize damage upon detonation.
The shells detonated with brutal force. One shell struck just behind a retreating mecha, the explosion lifting the machine off its feet and sending it crashing to the ground. The impact crumpled the mecha's reinforced frame and sent a geyser of dirt, metal fragments, and fire high into the air. The pilot, disoriented and in shock, tried to bring the mecha back online, but the damage was too severe. The machine lay motionless, its once-vibrant HUD now a flickering mess of static and error messages. The once-pristine cockpit was now a charred and twisted wreck, the pilot's final moments marked by a horrid silence.
Another shell landed directly on top of a group of Milishial infantry who had been providing cover for the retreating mechas. The explosion was instantaneous, obliterating the soldiers in a cloud of fire and shrapnel. The few who survived the initial blast were quickly cut down by machine gun fire from the Chinese infantry, who advanced in tight formations, their rifles trained on the retreating enemy. The ground was littered with the remains of soldiers, their bodies torn apart by the explosive force. The scene was one of utter carnage—a stark reminder of the devastating efficiency of modern artillery.
Lieutenant Colonel Wang Lei, overseeing the logistics support, coordinated the efforts to secure the battlefield. "Ensure all casualties are attended to and that our positions are fortified," he instructed his team, his voice carrying the weight of the day's grim achievements. The battlefield, now a smoldering wasteland of craters and wreckage, was testament to the overwhelming force of the Chinese strategy. The H-18s had delivered a decisive blow, turning the tide of battle in their favor, but the cost was evident in the mangled remains of once-formidable mechas and the shattered bodies of soldiers.
From his command center, General Cheng Xiaogang watched the battlefield with a grim smile. The plan had worked with devastating effectiveness. The combination of the flood, suicide drones, and heavy bombing had turned the tide decisively in their favor. The Milishial forces, once so confident in their technological superiority, were now in full retreat, their forces shattered and demoralized.
"Excellent work, everyone," Cheng said into the comms, his tone reflecting a mix of satisfaction and somber reflection. He knew the battle was not yet over—there were still pockets of resistance that needed to be dealt with, and the king's capture was far from assured—but for the moment, they had achieved a decisive victory. "We've delivered a crippling blow to the enemy. Ensure the battlefield is secured and prepare for any potential follow-up actions."
Major Liu Xue and Lieutenant Wang Xin, who had been coordinating the air and drone strikes, provided a final update. "The Milishial forces are in full retreat," Liu Xue reported, her voice tinged with a mixture of pride and relief. "The cave is secured. We have control of the battlefield."
General Cheng allowed himself a moment to savor the victory. The operation had been complex, requiring precise coordination and flawless execution, but his forces had delivered. The Milishial Empire, with all its advanced technology and vaunted military prowess, had been humbled. But Cheng knew that the true test was still to come. The Holy Milishial Empire was not an enemy to be taken lightly, and their response to this defeat would be swift and brutal.
As the dust settled over the battlefield, the Chinese forces regrouped, their victory marked by a somber recognition of the battle's intensity and cost. The strategic use of terrain, engineering, and combined firepower had proven effective, but the price of victory was evident in the bodies of the fallen and the wreckage of destroyed machines that littered the landscape.
Major Liu Xue, standing on a ridge overlooking the battlefield, surveyed the scene with a sense of quiet pride. The H-18s, now disappearing into the distance, had done their job with brutal efficiency. The lowland, once a peaceful stretch of land, was now a scarred and desolate wasteland, a testament to the power of modern warfare.
Lieutenant Wang Xin, who had coordinated the drone strikes, approached her, his face drawn with fatigue but lit with a glimmer of satisfaction. "We did it," Wang said, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "We've dealt a significant blow to the Milishial forces. They won't recover from this easily."
Liu nodded, but her expression remained serious. "We've won the battle, but the war is far from over. The Holy Milishial Empire will not let this stand. We need to be ready for whatever comes next."
As the Chinese forces began the task of securing the battlefield, the wreckage of the Milishial mechas stood as a stark reminder of the fierce resistance they had faced. The once-proud machines, now twisted and broken, were a testament to the power of the Chinese strategy and the sheer destructive force of their weapons.
In the distance, the cave where King Irtis XIII was being held loomed like a dark sentinel over the battlefield. The fate of Irnetia now hung in the balance, and the next moves in this deadly game of war would determine the future of nations.
General Cheng Xiaogang, returning to his command center, paused for a moment at the entrance, looking out over the battlefield. The victory was theirs, but the cost of war was ever-present, a weight that pressed down on his shoulders with every decision he made.
"We've executed a complex plan successfully," General Cheng said quietly to himself, the words meant as much for his own reassurance as for his staff. "But this is only the beginning. The real challenge lies ahead."
With that, he turned and entered the command center, ready to face whatever came next. The battlefield, now quiet save for the distant rumble of machinery and the cries of the wounded, stood as a silent witness to the brutal reality of war. The Chinese forces had won the day, but the true test of their resolve was yet to come.
