Chapter 5. Despair and Unexpected Aid. Part 3
Calendar of Arrival in the New World, Year 0001, April 11. Evening.
On the outskirts of the eastern conquest army's camp of the Lourian Kingdom, rows of soldier tents stood under the rays of the setting sun, rough and austere. The camp buzzed with anticipation—war was imminent. Qua-Toyne's desperate attempts to negotiate the withdrawal of Lourian troops had gone unanswered. The next day, blood would be spilled.
"Tomorrow, Gim will fall," General Pandur declared with a broad, self-satisfied grin, surveying his mighty army prepared for battle.
Before him stood thirty thousand men, many of them fresh recruits and militia armed with simple bows and crossbows. However, amidst this mass were five thousand heavily armed infantry clad in solid armor, five hundred specially trained soldiers skilled in siege techniques, and a powerful cavalry of two thousand riders. Nearby, two additional units stood ready to take to the skies at his command: one hundred mages and one hundred fifty dragoons mounted on wyverns—a fearsome force capable of laying entire cities to waste.
It was said that this army would serve not only as the Lourian Kingdom's spearhead but also as one of the tools of Parpaldia, the great empire of the Third Civilized Zone, rumored to be backing Louria's expansionist ambitions. These rumors were never officially confirmed, but Pandur couldn't have cared less; what stood before him was a force capable of plunging Qua-Toyne into chaos.
Not far from the general's tent, two figures were speaking amidst the dim light of campfires that cast flickering shadows.
"Lord Adem, congratulations are in order. Your new appointment as the commander of the vanguard army is a great honor," whispered a man cloaked in black, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood.
Adem—a tall, lean man with a cold, piercing gaze and short hair—was clad in Gothic-style armor, black and foreboding. His massive shoulders and heavy chainmail gave him an imposing, fearsome appearance. He was infamous for his ruthlessness and cold-blooded nature—so much so that even his allies kept their distance, wary of becoming obstacles to his relentless ambitions.
"Empty flattery," Adem replied dismissively, a sinister smirk curling his lips. "Even with your face concealed by that hood, I can see the bloodthirsty grin beneath."
"Please, make full use of the wyverns we've provided, as much as your heart desires," the hooded man continued, as if coaxing him.
Adem chuckled coldly.
"The number doesn't matter as long as I can crush and annihilate the demi-humans," he replied, his words cutting like a death sentence.
"How terrifying! Truly terrifying!" the man in the black cloak exclaimed mockingly, feigning a shudder.
Leaving his companion behind, Adem strode toward the command tent, where General Pandur was bent over a map of the region, surrounded by officers. A faint, almost imperceptible smile graced Pandur's thin lips as he noticed the approaching commander.
"What do we do with the spoils we take in Gim?" Adem asked calmly, suppressing his thoughts but with a cold glint in his eyes.
Pandur waved dismissively, his focus remaining on the map.
"I'll leave that to your discretion, Adem. You know what needs to be done," he replied with the indifference of a man accustomed to deciding the fates of thousands with a mere gesture.
Adem nodded briefly, offered a slight bow, and left the command tent. Returning to his troops, he raised his voice loud and clear, ensuring even those farthest away could hear him:
"When we march through Gim, you are free to take whatever you desire: loot, rape, kill. This is your chance to revel in victory. But once you've satisfied your urges, leave no one alive—except for a few dozen. Let them spread fear. Execute the families of knights and captains with particular cruelty to leave their enemies trembling in terror."
Adem's words hung heavy in the air like a grim omen. Moments later, the soldiers began to disperse, spreading his orders throughout the camp. The fire in their eyes burned brighter, their eagerness and anticipation swelling like a ravenous beast ready to be unleashed.
Calendar of Arrival in the New World, Year 0001, April 12, 1:00 AM
Principality of Qua-Toyne, Western Region, 20 kilometers from the border.
The City of Gim
Through the haze of dawn's mist, the faint outlines of the Lourian Kingdom's army began to take shape on the horizon. Captain Moizi, a beastman and leader of the Western Knights, stood atop the watchtower, his gaze fixed on the distance. An unshakable sense of dread had taken root in his heart, tightening its grip with each passing minute. The city itself seemed to breathe fear, bracing for the nightmare about to unfold.
His garrison consisted of a mere 3,554 troops—infantry, cavalry, wyvern-mounted dragoons, and thirty mages—all now positioned along the walls. Their faces were pale against the somber backdrop of the overcast sky. Even the best warriors of Qua-Toyne knew they were hopelessly outnumbered, ill-equipped to withstand the might of Louria's forces.
Within the watchtower, where the crunch of gravel under boots was the only sound breaking the silence, Moizi turned to the manacom operator, clinging to a sliver of hope for some encouraging news.
"No word from Louria, I take it?" he asked, his voice low and heavy with resignation.
The operator, a young man with thick dark hair, nervously gripped the receiver in his hands, shaking his head.
"They're completely ignoring us," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding the captain's eyes. For a moment, silence fell over the room, the weight of despair pressing down on everyone present.
"What about reinforcements?" Moizi pressed, grasping at the last vestiges of hope like a drowning man clutching at straws. "Surely, they won't let this horde crush us without a fight?"
The operator sighed but steadied himself before replying.
"Orders are to evacuate the civilians and hold the line until reinforcements arrive. They're on their way and should be here within three hours."
Moizi's brows shot up, his heart stirring as the faint glimmer of salvation flickered in his mind.
"Three hours? That fast?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise and tentative relief.
"Yes, sir." The operator's voice wavered, but a new confidence began to seep into his tone.
Moizi turned to face his soldiers, his eyes blazing with newfound determination. Before him stood men and women who had long grown accustomed to staring down danger, but they all understood that this battle would be unlike any other. Doubts and fear were etched on their faces, yet a spark of courage glimmered faintly in each heart.
"Listen to me, warriors!" he called out, his voice echoing with commanding resolve, carrying to even the most battle-weary among them. "We only need to hold out for three hours. The enemy may be stronger, but we are defending our families, our homes! Make them pay dearly for every step they take—don't give an inch! Remember, no matter what happens, your wives and children will be saved!"
His words, filled with fierce determination, rang out across the square, where soldiers and civilians alike had gathered for what might be their final moments together. Men gripped their swords tighter, women clutched their children closer, and the elderly exchanged solemn glances, knowing this might very well be their last day.
The civilians, those unable to bear arms, soon began to disperse, hurrying back to their families as the evacuation commenced. People scrambled to gather their belongings, set their homes ablaze to deny the enemy, and clung to anything that might serve as their salvation. Flames erupted on the outskirts of the city, smoke rising into the pre-dawn sky, making it seem as though Gim was already burning, even though the battle had yet to begin.
The soldiers returned to their posts, their resolve hardening with each step. Even the simplest among them felt the dormant spirit of a warrior awaken, sharpened by the ominous tension of the impending battle.
Calendar of Arrival in the New World, Year 0001, April 12, 6:25 AM
The City of Gim
Once a peaceful and cozy town, Gim had transformed into an empty battlefield. The streets, where families once strolled and children played, were now eerily silent. All the residents had been evacuated, leaving behind only the garrison, ready to face their last stand.
A patrolman stood on the western side, along the ruined wall, scanning the mist. Suddenly, something unusual caught his eye, and he struggled to contain his shock.
"Hey! What's that?!" he exclaimed, squinting at the approaching shadows. "Allies? Is that... allies? ALLIES! Help has arrived!"
Through the gray haze, he spotted a column of vehicles, unlike anything he had ever seen before. Massive, green machines were steadily advancing toward the city. On the lead vehicle flew two flags—the banner of Qua-Toyne and the Russian Federation.
The patrolman ran toward Captain Moizi, shouting and waving his arms.
"What are you yelling about? Have you lost your senses?" Captain Moizi scowled, listening to the breathless patrolman.
"No, sir! From the southeast, strange green carriages are coming toward us, and one of them bears our principality's flag!"
Captain Moizi froze for a moment, processing the news, then his eyes lit up. Reinforcements—and so soon!
"Well, I'll be…," he muttered, feeling a wave of relief, though he quickly composed himself.
"Alright, let's go meet our unexpected allies!"
Minutes later, a convoy of military vehicles arrived at Gim's gates. Leading the charge was an R-149BMR command vehicle bearing the flags of Russia and Qua-Toyne, followed by three BTR-82Ms, two BMP-3Ms, and four formidable Tunguska anti-aircraft systems. Behind them, support vehicles remained outside the gates, while all eyes—those of the garrison soldiers and militia—were fixed on the monstrous steel machines.
The townspeople-turned-militiamen and garrison troops stood motionless, their amazement plain to see. To them, these strange green contraptions seemed like the embodiment of power—mysterious and almost otherworldly.
From the lead vehicle, a man in a helmet and green cuirass stepped out, his presence commanding both respect and a hint of fear. A strange black rod hung at his side, its purpose unknown to the locals.
The man scanned the gathered crowd, then spoke, his firm and loud voice carrying across the square:
"Captain Moizi. Who here is Captain Moizi?"
Captain Moizi, clad in armor with a greatsword slung over his back, stepped forward from the crowd. His ears flattened against his head, betraying his inner tension.
"I am he. Captain Moizi of the Western Knights of Gim."
Major Spiridonov nodded, his gaze resolute.
"Greetings. Major Spiridonov of the Russian Federation Armed Forces. We've arrived to provide support." The major's voice was so authoritative and confident that even the staunchest militia members trembled slightly.
A murmur spread through the crowd, and then, as the realization set in that allies had indeed arrived, soldiers and militia members began cheering, hugging one another. Laughter and joy filled the air that, moments ago, had been thick with fear and dread. They were no longer alone, and hope for victory had been rekindled.
Calendar of Arrival in the New World, Year 0001, April 12, 6:45 AM
Twenty kilometers from the border, the city of Gim
The dawn sky darkened with ominous clouds, as if foretelling the storm to come. On the horizon, far from Gim, a column of red smoke suddenly rose into the sky, unfurling above the national border. Simultaneously, a signal broke through the manacom—a magical communication system—filled with terror and panic:
"An enormous number of Lourian wyverns have invaded Gim! Thousands of spears have crossed the border! We're trying to hold them back! Aghhh — " The transmission cut off, leaving only static in its wake.
Major Spiridonov exhaled slowly, his eyes following the rising smoke. He lit a cigarette and handed it to Captain Moizy, who took it hesitantly, examining the unfamiliar object before understanding its purpose. He took a drag, trying to discern its flavor, his nerves still raw.
"It's begun…" Spiridonov said calmly. Then, turning to Moizy, he added, exhaling a stream of smoke, "When we made our way to Gim with the convoy, we met your wife and daughter. They're very worried about you." He paused, watching the captain's reaction, then lowered his voice. "Our task is simple: rile them up a bit, make them think the city is under control, and when they start advancing, we'll pull out to avoid getting caught in the fire. We've left them a little 'surprise'—mines."
Moizy, trying to decipher Spiridonov's meaning about the "surprise," nodded, hiding his inner anxiety. He dropped the cigarette butt, watching as it fell to the ground, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, clearing the faint moisture that had gathered there.
"Understood, Major. It will be done," he replied, his voice hoarse but determined.
At the heart of the deserted city of Gim...
The heavy forces of Louria, driven by malice and a thirst for blood, cautiously stepped into the abandoned city. There was no sign of life—only grim, charred buildings bearing the scars of time and destruction. The city seemed utterly desolate and forsaken, and this unnatural silence unsettled the invaders. Lourian soldiers, accustomed to facing resistance, filled the streets warily, their eyes scanning the motionless walls.
But suddenly, one by one, they began dropping dead, as if an invisible force was sapping the life from their bodies. Explosions echoed from within the buildings, rumbling like distant thunder before erupting into deafening roars. Chaos broke out across the city as Lourian warriors entered the structures from which strange sounds emanated, only to meet devastating "gifts" left behind. The moment they stepped inside, the ground shook from the power of the detonations, and the streets filled with screams of agony and curses.
Panic quickly spread among the Lourian forces. The soldiers realized they had walked into a city rigged with traps, yet escaping them was far from simple. The commander of Louria's Eastern Army, General Adem, stormed through the ranks in a fit of rage, his face blazing with fury. Those nearby were too afraid to approach him, fearing his wrath and unpredictable temper. No one dared to question him or offer a plan.
Suddenly, Adem's expression shifted. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as if piecing together a revelation. His voice dropped to a sharp but quiet tone as he addressed his deputy:
"General Pandur, we retreat. Quickly."
The Eastern Army's commander, Adem, was still fuming with anger, his soldiers hesitant to even look his way. Yet in that moment, something clicked in his mind. He issued the order to retreat with a newfound clarity. Pandur, who respected Adem's sharp instincts, obeyed without hesitation. They mounted their horses, shouted commands to their bewildered troops to fall back, and spurred their steeds toward Louria, leaving the treacherous city behind.
And so Gim remained empty, but its silence and deadly traps stood as a stark reminder to the invaders that sometimes victory doesn't belong to the strongest, but to those clever enough to outwit their enemy.
Calendar of Arrival in the New World, Year 0001, April 12, 7:05 AM
Dark clouds loomed over the battlefield, casting a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. Lourian warriors, already on edge, glanced nervously at the sky, their unease deepening as shadows began to appear above.
At first, they mistook the shapes for dragons or other mythical creatures, but soon the iron silhouettes became clear—squadrons of Su-34 fighter-bombers, sleek and menacing, slicing through the air with terrifying precision.
A primal fear gripped the soldiers as they watched the aircraft's terrifying speed.
High above, too far for the troops to make out details, the planes began dropping objects that glinted faintly in the sunlight. Bombs—gleaming like predatory hawks—silently detached from the bombers' underbellies. Before the soldiers could fully grasp what was happening, the landscape erupted into fire, flames, and deadly shrapnel.
Entire ranks of Lourian troops dissolved into chaos as explosions consumed the area. Bodies—burning and torn apart—were flung in all directions, while the thunderous detonations ripped cries of agony from those who still clung to life.
The precision and sheer devastation of the attack left the invading army broken and terrified, a stark testament to the overwhelming power of the new adversary they faced.
At the center of the deserted city of Gim...
Inside the cockpit of one of the Su-34s.
"Comrade Commander, we've received a message: our forces and allies have been evacuated and are en route to Fort Edge," reported the second pilot of the lead fighter-bomber, his focus glued to the instrument screens.
The commander, who had been observing changes in the tactical situation on the ground, turned his attention to the report.
"Good. Then it's time to give these would-be knights a proper farewell gift," he said, his voice calm but with a glint of cold resolve in his eyes.
"Roger that!" the second pilot replied with a faint smile. Their aircraft once again plunged into a precision bombing run, dropping its deadly payloads with calculated efficiency.
Following close behind, three more Su-34s maintained a tight formation, their streamlined silhouettes tracing a flawless path, as if guided by an invisible line. Moments later, Gim and its surrounding areas were engulfed in a devastating carpet bombing. Any hope of survival vanished as the city and everything within it succumbed to an unrelenting storm of fire and destruction.
The Lourian forces—21,050 soldiers from their forward detachment—were annihilated. It was a one-sided massacre. The Lourian troops didn't even have time to comprehend how or when their doom arrived.
Lourian Command Headquarters
Utter chaos erupted in Louria's command headquarters. The massive map, dotted with countless miniature army markers, seemed less imposing when measured against the horrifying losses just incurred. Generals darted back and forth, scrambling to understand what had happened and to grasp the true power of this enemy they had underestimated. Fear was evident in their eyes—this mysterious weapon, which they had just witnessed in action, had obliterated their forces in mere minutes.
One of the commanders, more composed and pragmatic than the others, managed to regain his bearings. He attempted to reestablish order:
"Don't give in to panic! Weapons of that scale will take time to reload. They can't use them endlessly," he said with firm determination, though there was a faint tremor in his voice betraying his uncertainty.
His words provided some small measure of comfort to those in the room. Soon, the command decided to send their remaining forces back to Gim—or rather, to the ruins left in the wake of the catastrophic bombardment. Plans were drawn to construct a temporary command post and fortifications, as they tried to reassure themselves that their defenses would hold better this time and that their troops would be able to put up a proper fight.
But the fear of this new weapon and the sheer power of their enemy lingered, a hidden anxiety gnawing at their resolve. It seeped into the ranks of their soldiers, fueling the tension and deepening the shadows cast over Louria's war efforts.