Things are looking impressive from Tanya's high perch in the sky.
The enemy commander is doing a bang-up job.
Not only does he have an entire battalion operating at an altitude of eight thousand feet, but he's even staying on our tail. At the start of the war, six thousand feet was considered a sort of soft altitude ceiling that older orbs had a hard time overcoming. The fact that the enemy unit can blow past this hurdle is a testament to the amount of work he put into training his aerial mages.
Judging by the flight skills of his individual mages, which are dismal at best, this can't have been easy to accomplish. They're keeping up reasonably well despite us pushing our dual-core Type 97 computation orbs to their limits. Impressive for their single-core models. There must be some trick to how they're using them.
What's worse is they're already putting suppressing fire on us. It's a good strategy. They're even adding optical and guided formulas into the mix. They're forcing us to choose between throwing up our defensive shells and maintaining our protective films against withering fire or taking evasive maneuvers to avoid getting hit. This makes it slightly harder to act freely.
As someone who works in a similar position, I have to pay them respect where it's due. Unfortunately, for our enemies, the world is dictated by physical laws.
Some things just can't be done.
It's a simple, undeniable truth. To circumvent this natural law—to make the impossible possible—sometimes requires overcoming limits. Limits are still limits, though, and tricks can only get you so far.
It's time, Tanya gestures to First Lieutenant Serebryakov, who is flying with her.
"02, time to fight back." "02 copies."
Her adjutant responds with just two short words and a wave of her gun.
This brings a smile to Tanya's face.
The enemy forces are completely focused on climbing—something their gear isn't made for at these altitudes. If we were to say, nosedive right into them… I'm sure they'll show us some worthwhile reactions.
"The moment they're unable to climb any farther…"
"That's when we'll strike," she begins to say, but can't finish her sentence before noticing a small speck rapidly approaching them.
"Hmm? There's a wild boar flying toward us."
"You're right, Colonel. I'm surprised… Are they flying solo? At this altitude?"
Tanya scorns her enemy in response to her adjutant's admiration. "More like they've abandoned all logic and decided to act recklessly."
"I feel like the fact that they're still breathing at this altitude is proof they're a cut above their peers."
Tanya's adjutant isn't wrong. Compared to the run-of-the-mill aerial mage, this speck is on a level of their own. Regardless, the decision to charge us is a rash one. If they had happened upon us all alone, it could be considered the logical thing to do, but this mage has completely left the rest of their formation behind.
War needs to be fought in an organized manner. This isn't the Stone Age— it's not about how strong any individual is. I'm glad this lone mage is our enemy. I'd rather die than work with someone that incompetent.
"I recognize the mana signal. This is one tough customer. I'd rather not deal with them if we can help it… Then again, it might actually play to our advantage having them around this time."
My adjutant knows exactly who I'm talking about. "A tough customer…? Ah, of course."
Their tank is rushing forward, leaving behind all the soft targets. Though not necessarily role theory, we're extremely lucky that our opponents have decided to break formation despite having total numerical advantage.
"You know what to do, right, 02?" "02 to 01, your face is scaring me."
"What, should I be smiling as we charge into the enemy? I'm an upstanding person, you know?"
Laughter fills the air as we dodge our enemies' lackluster optical sniping formulas with ease. It's important to keep your spirits up. There's no room
for negativity in a dogfight if you want to win.
Staying calm and collected is also a core part of being a civilized human being—something our opponent evidently isn't.
The confidence this dignified bearing grants is truly great. It's what makes us proper human beings. This is where a person's decisiveness and courage stems from when duty calls.
"All right, watch the timing. On my mark." "Copy."
Utilizing our altitude advantage to its fullest extent, I watch for the perfect moment to get the drop on our enemies.
It'll be the moment the multinational volunteer unit stops to cover the wild card they've deployed forward. Two imperial mages aren't going to let that chance pass them by.
"Enemy salvo! Three rounds incoming!"
Tanya's wingmate deserves praise for being able to identify the attack before the formulas have even been completed. Our enemies should also be lauded for presenting us the perfect opportunity with their blunder. It's time for Tanya to give the order.
"Fools! That's what we were waiting for!"
For even the most skilled mages, firing in unison means one thing… Their movement is restricted. This holds even more true for mages with little training.
They'll pay for their foolishness. "It's time. We're going in."
I begin my nosedive with a grin.
We're going to utilize our height advantage to drop down and close in on them fast. It's time to convert our altitude into pure speed. Feeling the air pressure build as wind whips past our protective film, two human bullets are nose-diving toward the poor multinational unit.
For the mages below, who can't do much more than focus on maintaining their altitude, the two mages descend on them like a literal bolt from the blue.
They can't respond fast enough to the two imperial monsters that are hurtling toward them at terminal velocity.
Lieutenant Colonel Drake was familiar with the excruciating gap between his enemy's technological and technical skills compared to his own battalion's— a feeling that was uncommon for a marine mage officer. Adding in a great deal of strange political idiosyncrasies that he had to deal with during his time abroad, his experience was truly unprecedented.
These unique experiences gave him the perspective he needed to understand the almost depressing importance of mastering the basics. Hunting was a numbers game. Whoever held the numerical advantage and didn't squander it would almost always come out on top.
Anyone who couldn't maintain numerical superiority could forget about hunting. They were more likely to become the hunted.
Unfortunately, the multinational volunteer unit he commanded was made up of soldiers who couldn't even speak the same language; it was nigh impossible to move as a unit with less than a moment's notice.
What's worse was that Colonel Mikel and Lieutenant Colonel Drake's forces were run by two commanders. Having two possibly conflicting chains of command was disastrous. No matter how clear their commands were, they could never shake the looming anxiety that was inherent in such a system.
While their formation was able to function more or less, that was all for show, at the end of the day. Drake watched as his units opened fire in unison with the most pitiful aim.
"The enemies are evading our fire. Shit, their mobility is too much for us."
He stopped himself from commenting on their superior coordination as well.
Their opponents flew in a way that made it clear they knew where their wingmate was at all times, and yet they were able to move in tandem and keep each other covered. Though it looked simple at a glance, Drake could only gulp at the amount of technical skill that went into making such flight possible.
Their situational and spatial awareness was unparalleled—and they flew with virtually superhuman coordination!
"From that altitude, at that speed…"
It couldn't get any worse than this. Drake realized that the infamous Named mage had earned that title for a reason. His unit was shooting to support First Lieutenant Sue, who charged without a single thought for safety,
but it could hardly be called cover fire. Drake knew this wouldn't be enough to land a hit on their enemies.
He had trained his troops to the point where they could be considered decent, but against an outstanding opponent like this, things weren't looking good. First Lieutenant Sue charging in certainly didn't help. He needed to work the discipline and cooperation kinks out of her… Putting it off until later has come back to bite me in the ass, Lieutenant Colonel Drake thought as he looked up to the sky above.
"Lieutenant Sue should be making contact soon… Hold on."
It started out with a ringing in his ears. The moment he recognized this battle was three-dimensional, something about it stuck out to him. Drake of course knew how to keep track of their movements in the air, and something about their current position seemed off.
He had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen. He felt a chill run down his spine despite his defensive shell being up.
"What—what am I…?"
Before he could get the missing out, he realized the oddity.
Why did it feel like First Lieutenant Sue was too close to the enemies? True, she was charging them…but had enough time passed for her to make contact?
Lieutenant Colonel Drake's senses were screaming back at him—NO! That couldn't be right. As the question flashed in his mind, he suddenly realized what was happening.
The enemy was ignoring First Lieutenant Sue. But why?
"How can they ignore her…? Wait, are they coming toward us?"
Their real target is…us! Shit!
"S-spread out! Scatter! Don't bunch up!!!"
A moment earlier and he might have made it in time—but it was too late. Even as he called out, the enemy pair had already reached maximum speed in their descent. They slipped right by First Lieutenant Sue without paying her any mind.
There was nothing she could do to change course as they whizzed by her. Without a doubt, the younger members of his unit had nothing but offensive maneuvers on their minds. The lion's share of them weren't capable of turning on a dime the moment they heard their commander's unexpected orders.
The few who managed to disperse were the more battle-hardened Federation Army soldiers. They were the only ones who attempted evasive maneuvers… Everyone else suffered a pitiful fate.
Their formation, a line meant for concentrated, disciplined fire, was what did them in. Caught out in a vulnerable formation, the multinational volunteer unit never had a chance.
Having their comrades close by dulled their senses.
The negative effect this had on their reaction times proved to be fatal.
The two imperial mages took advantage of their proximity and unleashed three explosion formulas each just before they made contact.
There couldn't have possibly been a better target for their attack than the tightly packed multinational unit. Their enemy was sharp and knew exactly what would hurt them the most. They chose explosion formulas for their large area of effect.
The strength of the attack wasn't extraordinary. Under normal circumstances, even if the explosions penetrated their defensive shells, the mages should've been able to protect themselves with their trusty protective films.
These weren't normal circumstances, though. Drake's troops were struggling to fly at an altitude of eight thousand. That had major consequences.
Even the most experienced aerial mages tended to operate within the limits of their gear. It should have been obvious that they weren't well adapted to severe environments.
The attack was one they should've emerged from relatively unscathed, but the lack of oxygen and the freezing temperatures at these altitudes made them sluggish and distracted. It was a matter of seconds before the entire battalion was overcome with panic. The majority of them followed their instincts and dropped their altitudes. This was a sinister trap.
The line fell apart as many of the soldiers, unable to breathe, focused on air-purification formulas. This was when the imperials struck.
Yes—the enemy had attacked with three waves of formulas. The first was to cause panic. The second was to break their line. And the third was to massacre the routing soldiers.
Anyone caught by the three-pronged bombardment—save for the more experienced soldiers—was doomed. The damage suffered by the first two
companies, which suffered direct hits, was nothing short of catastrophic.
Bodies were raining from the sky wherever the explosions occurred… If those mages couldn't regain consciousness before hitting the ground, they were goners. If the superheated air reached their lungs, the agony would be indescribable.
But now wasn't the time to be worrying about others. Drake would have to come back to them later.
"Enemies approaching fast! Prepare for close combat!"
The imperialists were using gravity to dive at the multinationals at unbelievable speed.
He could see the reapers had their scythes in hand. The magically enhanced blades, held at the ready, shined ominously as the two demons plunged toward their ranks.
Drake felt fortunate that he had any time to gauge their trajectory at all. Or maybe it would only be enough time for him to learn how it felt to be a prisoner who knew they were only moments away from being executed by guillotine…
Ah crap. In no time at all, the enemies had split up and one was coming straight for him.
His opponent's murderous tenacity was so palpable that he swore he could feel it through both his protective film and defensive shell. Drake cursed as he kept the human missile in his sights. And that was the exact moment he realized what the enemy was really after.
He wasn't the only target… They wanted to wipe out the entire chain of command! They were here to kill the commanders. With just two mages? No, two was more than enough for them!
The moment Lieutenant Colonel Drake came to this realization, he called out to his troops.
"They're going for the officers! It's a decapitation strike! That's what they're here for!"
The Devil of the Rhine was apt for the job.
The enemy had come to take out the two commanders of the multinational volunteer unit by themselves. It was absolutely reckless. Drake would normally laugh at the idea if he wasn't literally dealing with a devil. He barked out his warning to his troops while the two monsters came flying toward them like comets. Lieutenant Colonel Drake cast an explosion
formula with everything he had.
The air around his formula warped as an explosion screeched across the sky ahead of him, but it barely fazed the imperial mages, let alone stop them.
"You're charging me?!"
The two mages continued their advance despite the detonation that had just rocked the skies. Fire should strike fear into the hearts of all! The mental fortitude of these imperial mages was beyond comprehension.
Drake cursed again while he prepared an optical camouflage formula.
Then he finally understood why they were so focused on him.
His support fire was almost nonexistent. What in the hell is going on? Due to their insufficient training, they were not only slow to react but the multinational troops were also waiting for orders.
New recruits didn't know what to do during a battle without orders! "I need suppressing fire! Hit them with everything you've got!"
He commanded the battalion to open fire. A single order was all they needed to start shooting immediately… They really didn't do anything until they were told. Not only that but their aim was all over the place.
You call that marksmanship? Lieutenant Colonel Drake held in his impulse to swear as he caught on to another enemy trick.
"Watch out for decoys! Shit, is this optical?!"
They had used an optical camouflage formula to create a convincing decoy. He had read about this in the reports more times than he wished to. Projecting illusions had been a common tactic for these mages back on the Rhine front.
It was a simple trick but terribly effective. It was harder than it seemed to distinguish what is real in the chaos of battle—especially if you were panicking.
"There's no point if you aren't concentrating your fire! Calm down and aim!"
His orders went unheard. Not only were his troops unnerved but they were also wholly unable to lay a significant amount of firepower on their targets.
The situation was an absolute mess. To make matters worse, the suppressing fire had seemingly no effect on the enemy's freedom of movement.
Their shots were undoubtedly landing. However, simply hitting the
imperial mages with several rounds wouldn't be enough to penetrate their protective films. This was something he could've guessed…but how were they still charging forward?!
Drake then caught sight of a short imperial mage. He didn't want to imagine the power of the magic blade in their grip. One slash was surely more than enough to end his life, and the enemy was moving far too fast for him to have any chance of stopping the blade.
"They're here! Cover me!" Drake shouted as he instinctively sped up. Ideally, he would've used his reach advantage to land the first blow, but the small imperial mage was already too close. This wasn't a friendly fencing match… There wasn't enough time to parry.
He drew his own magic blade to try and mount at least some sort of defense.
"Guh?!"
It felt like he had slammed into a boulder. He couldn't get the leverage he needed in midair. Unable to maintain his form, he was getting pushed back. The worst part was how small his opponent was. Am I really going to be overpowered by this mouse of a mage?! Don't make me laugh! He wished he could wake up from his nightmare. Unfortunately, this was reality. Oh, Lord. He tried to gather his wits and recover after being flung wide, only to find two cold eyes staring at him, like a predator watching its prey.
"Goddamnit!"
There was nothing he could do to stop the magic blade from flying toward him once again. There was a moment of desperation before Lieutenant Colonel Drake accepted his fate.
They were close enough for a knife fight.
With their size differences and positioning, the short imperial mage had the advantage. Conversely, so little distance separated them that there was no way for him to miss, either.
He let the imperial mage's blade pierce his shoulder. At the same time, he began to cast an optical sniping formula. Drake ignored all safety guidelines for casting speeds and worked as fast as possible. Low on air and running out of blood, his brain was sounding the alarm as he manifested his final explosion.
The light from his formula shined, giving Drake a brief glimpse of hope. "?!!!"
The enemy mage screamed and let go of the blade that should have impaled his shoulder. A moment later, Drake felt something rock-hard— probably a gunstock—hit him in the gut.
An indescribable agony welled up in his stomach, and his formula fell apart, causing his last-ditch effort to fail milliseconds before it was about to go off.
The enemy mage then looked at the groaning Drake and, with perfect command of the Commonwealth language, swore at him as he writhed in pain.
"Stay out of my way, you bastard." "Damn…you…"
"Good-bye, Limey."
With those parting words, a leather boot unceremoniously kicked Drake away.
Lieutenant Colonel Drake came to a realization as he just barely managed to make out what seemed to be his enemy pulling out a submachine gun and aiming it at him while he continued to fall.
Ah, damn it. I'm not going down without a fight. In a fit of desperation, he reflexively converted his failing formula into an explosion formula.
He had pushed his body past its limits long ago, but he forced himself to finish one last formula.
It felt like his brain was going to melt. Despite that, he was still conscious. He knew what he needed to do.
Lieutenant Colonel Drake prepared his formula just before his vision faded to black. On the very edge of consciousness, he managed to spot his enemy gracefully circling in the air.
He knew he couldn't win, but he wanted to at least burn that damned devil's tail off.
"Ha-ha-ha! Take this, fucker!"
Unbelievable. This must be what people mean when they say boiling with rage. I'm livid. There's no way to remain the usual calm Tanya after witnessing such irrational recklessness.
It happened right as I struck one of the enemy unit's commanding officers.
The attack was surgically executed, keeping unnecessary damage to a minimum. It was the most peaceful and humane assault anyone could perform in a war zone.
A small sacrifice to ensure the safety of the Imperial Army—and myself, of course.
If anything, these emergency evasive maneuvers are about as fair as they could be.
The response I was met with is what's unbelievable.
That officer tried to use an optical illusion at ultra-close range—an act that could already be considered suicidal—and then decided to follow up with a full-blown explosion formula, guaranteeing he'd be caught in the blast. To think that these people consider suicide bombing an option. This is war—it's not like this fight is personal. As a means to an end, I can understand viewing soldiers as weapons but to willingly become one is a
crime against humanity.
Ah…what a shitty world this is.
It's not like I'm demanding that people become uppity snobs. This is war, and it's going to get dirty. I don't need you to play by the rules. But please, let's at least try to maintain our humanity.
"So this is what happens to people when they fight war all their lives." How repellent. Could anything be more unpleasant?
I pour my frustrations and stress into a formula. Let's see how they like an explosion formula behind their lines.
I'll drop a few more wherever they start spreading out.
There's some incoming fire, but that's easily countered with an optical decoy. Our enemies are always so easy to deal with when they panic. Most of them would focus solely on the decoy. This is ignoring the large bulk of them who just fly in random directions. Aerial combat is three-dimensional. This is something that soldiers stuck in the realm of two dimensions will never understand.
Speaking of, I still need to keep my guard up. Stray bullets are a thing, after all.
But, well…I can't help but snicker as the sky around me fills with screams and explosions. Altitude control is my forte at this point. For a while now, I've been able to rely purely on inertia when it comes to achieving air superiority. Most attacks never get past my defensive shell and protective
film.
Shoot, evade, then penetrate their line at maximum velocity.
I watch as the distance between me and my enemies widens. There's no need to worry about their numbers with this much space between them. The multinational army isn't suited for chaotic combat.
That said, I do believe they're truly mad in the head.
"…They're wearing the Commonwealth uniforms, but as far as I can tell, these are no Commonwealth soldiers. They're nowhere near as tough as the people I fought during the Western Air Battle."
Even during the fiercest moments at the Rhine front, I never saw a cornered Republic aerial mage choose suicide. Needless to say, there wasn't a single mage who took such drastic measures during the dogfights over the Commonwealth homeland, either, as far as I can recall.
It's as if they've lost their pride as knights, or perhaps maybe it's their common sense that has been abandoned.
…There's something twisted about the eastern front.
Imitate not evil men, lest you yourself become evil. Conversely, any horse can become a stallion if only it takes after a stallion, and any man can be wise, so long as he mirrors the actions of the wise.
I remember learning these old adages back in Japanese class while studying for my college entrance exams… Maybe I should've paid closer attention to the snippets of truth my ancestors left behind.
"Even if only in form, it is wise to imitate the wise." Hmm. I want to give that old adage a bit more thought.
Unfortunately, the battlefield isn't a great place for reminiscing about my studies. Is that not the reason why they get so chaotic? If that's the case, a war is nothing more than a helpless downward spiral.
There's no stopping it as it falls.
War is uncontained entropy and chaos.
Even though in modern times, people have put tremendous effort into making violence an unusual occurrence, our enemies have made it commonplace because of this total war. Order and disorder have completely swapped places. These soldiers take a daily stroll through hell like it's a walk in the park. It disgusts me to my core.
It's normal for the enemy to see Tanya as an object of hatred.
A sad thing, really. All she's doing is earnestly devoting herself to her
job. This is war, after all. A great deal of people will hate her for it.
But really, this isn't the time for that. I focus on my flight trajectory.
Getting too hung up on negative thoughts will only make Tanya's already dark life darker. A healthy mind is the key to a healthy body, for the most part.
I've finished my withdrawal. Tanya is officially outside enemy lines. The only noteworthy thing is a half-hearted amount of harassing fire coming from behind. They're not really shots that the enemy is capable of landing; it's more or less random bullets that just happen to be traveling in the right direction. Nothing to worry about.
I'm effectively out of their range now. "02 to 01, I see you've made it out." "01, affirmative. Report, 02."
Did you down the target? Tanya's adjutant emits an uncharacteristic sigh in response to the unspoken question. Does this mean she failed?
"I reached the target but failed to shoot down the commanding officer."
I let out a disappointed chuckle. We've both come back empty-handed, so clearly there's no reason to berate her.
"Same here. They were tough after all."
"Was it someone that we should've taken out while we had the chance?"
Tanya's partner sounds surprised. I begrudgingly pay our opponents the respect they're due. Though my response is not without its fair share of snideness.
"They were too much for a sensible mage such as myself. And insane enough to resort to suicide bombing. That said, it is an effective tactic for fending off a decapitation strike."
Our enemies are like antibiotic-resistant bacteria. The more we kill them, the more they build up an immunity to our tactics.
Whether or not a suicide attack should be considered an actual countermeasure or just plain insanity aside…I can't deny that our foes are steadily getting better. It's more clear than ever how important it is to finish off your opponents before they can ever get to this level. But even though I fully understand that…it won't be possible on the eastern front. That is the inconvenient truth.
"But this should be enough to satisfy the general's demands…"
Looking at it another way, we've successfully created a major distraction,
as per the orders Tanya received…
Just as I think that, I notice something strange happening around us. "Huh?"
There's a slight burning sensation building up in the air. I can feel it through my defensive shell…an unpleasant stream of magic. I look behind me and see nothing but ants where our enemies should be… And yet, a chill shoots through me as if someone's pressed a gun against my head.
"Is this radiation?! At this distance?!"
I swallow the rest of my disbelief. Now isn't the time to talk. We need to move. Both Tanya and Visha immediately begin evasive maneuvers.
We push our dual cores to the limit and make sudden changes in trajectory. We speed up, flying in a serpentine path to throw off the enemy's aim. This kind of mobility is only possible thanks to our Type 97 computation orbs.
Just barely possible, I should note. As a result, we avoid the blast by the skin of our teeth.
I audibly scoff as the large-scale, long-range optical formula blasts right by me. I quickly cast an optical observation formula to identify the source of the attack.
In the distance is a lone, awfully small figure. It's giving off the same annoying mana signal I know all too well at this point.
It's the same wild boar from before. And to top things off, the freak of nature is already in the midst of charging up her second long-range blast.
Wait, is that charge for two blasts? One for First Lieutenant Serebryakov and one for myself? I double-check to be sure, but the computation orbs used by the multinational volunteers are nowhere near ours in specs.
"Isn't that far too much magic for any single person to use? Damn monster."
To my disbelief, it isn't a special technique or advanced technology that made this possible. It's simply that boar's raw power.
I can't help but feel jealous. Tanya was born with an average pool of mana. As someone who needs to carefully watch how I use my precious stores of magical energy, it almost makes me want to cry. This disparity in magic levels can only be described as outrageous. It was called a miracle when I figured out a way to save up my mana in that accursed Type 95, but look at this idiot come blasting without a second thought. Is this what it's like
to have more mana than you know what to do with…?
This monster already defies all logic with that ridiculous amount of magic but then actually takes that power and pours it into a formula that literally alters the world. This convenient, self-serving circumvention of natural law reminds me of Being X.
I shake my head with a groan. There isn't anything more to it. Why am I, an ace aerial mage, getting upset about someone who has a little extra magic? Let's look at the facts: Tanya and First Lieutenant Serebryakov are two veteran mages who braved and survived the Rhine campaign.
Experience is the world's greatest teacher, though the tuition is usually extremely expensive… However, once you've paid your dues, experience becomes your permanent ally.
Learning makes it possible to handle anything. And I've learned a great deal. I have options.
That boar's formula was powerful…and accurate to boot. Nevertheless, it's still a long-range attack formula. An attack like that is merely for show in a fight between mages. That much should be obvious at a glance. There's ample time to prepare between shots. While there are some practical applications in area denial, it isn't great for frontal assaults. Especially at this range, where evading such an attack is a simple matter. Frankly speaking, I'd have to be an idiot to get hit by it. Even a sneak attack that doesn't give itself away with radiation can be avoided if you know what's coming.
There are times where high speed is a better defense than thick armor. "Hmph, I guess all the magic in the world is worthless if you can't land a
hit."
The enemy mage could've launched another attack, too, if it weren't for that one little… What's more troubling is that she'll probably fire more of those until we completely leave her range of fire.
Though it would be a pain, there isn't much cover along our exfiltration path. It's time to get out of here. Dealing with idiots only makes me tired… But then I realize something peculiar.
"Hmm?"
There is ample distance between us and the enemy, so much that I can barely see them… So what is this tingle? Is it more pre-radiation like before?
That's when it dawns on me that the enemy is in the process of weaving a
ridiculously large formula. It looks like an explosion formula, but considering the range…
"Is that for predesignated fire?! Shit! They can't hit us, so they're just going to blow us to pieces?!"
Still in disbelief, I take evasive maneuvers and descend at high speed. Glancing back, I can see that First Lieutenant Serebryakov has made the same decision.
Very good. And then it happens.
I click my tongue as a heavy fwoom whips out past me. The air above begins to coil and twist. It's an explosion. The sky-warping formula has sent shock waves far enough that I can feel them from here.
"You have to be kidding me… This is supposed to be maneuver warfare.
What the hell are you thinking, using this kind of formula?"
To think I'd have to deal with an attack that's effective at such an extreme range… It can't get any worse. Terrifying images of the near future bring an abrupt end to the joy I'd been feeling while savoring our small victory up until that moment.
How annoying. This monster is just like Being X.
Then again, if this boar is just like Being X, that means they're also dim- witted.
I mentally snap my fingers. That's it—this mage is an idiot. I won't underestimate their ability, but I won't overestimate their intelligence, either. After seeing us dodge the big beam, their first thought was to blow us out of the sky… That's just too trigger-happy.
I mean, it's not the worst decision…but I highly doubt any of that was part of a coordinated plan. There's an even better chance of this being the case if this volunteer mage is angry.
Hopefully, angry enough to forget about how high the misfire rates are for explosion formulas. Which gives me an idea.
I quickly calculate my coordinates and change position slightly. Now I just need to lower myself a bit. This should bring the enemy mage's allies on the ground into the line of fire. With my adjutant close by, we pick out the perfect spot. And then…there, that should do it.
I know my guess pays off the moment I feel the telltale radiation from our enemy mage taking aim. Any decent aerial mage always keeps in mind what's behind whatever you're shooting at.
The fact that this mage is still trying to target us means…all logic has flown out the window for our attacker…
"Looks like the fact that we're flying directly over the Federation Army is completely eluding them. They must be frantic."
Tanya is wearing a wicked smile as she turns to her adjutant.
"First Lieutenant Serebryakov. What do you think about sharing these fireworks with our friends on the ground?"
"You want to bait the enemy into causing friendly fire…? What another ghastly idea you've come up with."
"Magic needs to be used wisely. It's called being eco-friendly." "As in, good for the economy?"
This is both ecological and economical. That makes it doubly eco- friendly. Good for the environment, bad for Commies. I'm not a huge fan of the idea of getting shot at…but I'll chalk it up as part of the job. This is war, after all.
-x-X-x-
THE SAME DAY, FEDERATION ARMY ENCAMPMENT ON THE EASTERN FRONT
Federation generals were pragmatists and placed reality above politics.
They knew that reality could be harsh, but it was politics that destroyed people. The more manipulated they were at the beginning of a conflict, the more likely high-level commanding officers would develop a realistic outlook of the world. This was because fame and power were a type of poison that could end people. Those who served spent their days in the harsh reality that was the war; they had no choice but to wade through a bloody, cursed world in their military-issued boots.
They were in a constant struggle to find out whatever they could on their enemies. The sacrifices they'd made at the start of the war forged them into the officers they were today. They scoured the world for intel, which they analyzed to the fullest extent.
In other words, the Federation Army evolved into one of the world's most
pragmatic organizations. And they continued to evolve in a unique way to excel on the battlefield.
They were professionals. Diligent specialists who both feared and respected their enemies, the Federation generals gave their all to find out everything about those they had to defeat.
Needless to say, they knew a lot about the Imperial Army. In that light, their intelligence gathering even encompassed knowing how the Empire understood itself. As a part of this, they included research on the backgrounds and tendencies of high-ranking military officials for the Imperial Army on an individual level.
Naturally, this was only made possible thanks to the powerful backing of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs… For the greater good, the army was willing to shake hands with the devil. It wasn't long before objections from the army's trusted inner circle vanished like smoke. Objections and pushback were to be expected. However, the naysayers swallowed their reluctance. They were forced to comply in the all-powerful name of necessity.
And this deal with the devil bore tremendous fruit. Their folders on the enemy commanders steadily grew thicker with increasingly useful information.
Lieutenant General Zettour was a good example.
They conducted a thorough investigation of his background and military records, gathering all classified information on the man that they could find. The more dangerous the target, the more the analysts pored over their file.
What stood out in General Zettour's summary was his unrivaled cunning. To put it simply, the Federation Army analysts accurately depicted Lieutenant General Zettour as a con artist on the battlefield.
As far as they could tell, he loved using tricks and deception while conducting maneuver warfare. To be specific, he was an ardent believer in encircling his enemies with his superior strategic mobility, even if it meant risking everything to do so. People who analyzed his tactics revered his ability to consistently pull them off, even when it was evident that they were the best course of action.
His most notable operations always included bold reorganization of his troops with a sharp focus on annihilating the opposing field army over seizing territory, all without exceeding the theoretical limits of logistics. And he would always top off these tactics with what seemed like a sleight of
hand.
The bottom line being that he was a nasty man—the nastiest sort one could imagine. His ruthlessness rivaled the Communist Party's secret police in the eyes of not only those who researched him closely but those close to him as well.
Considering this, there weren't many analysts who thought he could be defeated in any straightforward manner. He was the type who pulled his troops back to deliberately create salients that could be exploited by flanking attacks, with the ultimate aim of cutting off his enemies from their supply lines.
This was a scenario that even a new student at the war academy could grasp. If the enemy sets a trap, then just destroy them along with their trap.
The Federation Army had been duped far too many times—their chance at revenge was drawing near.
All they needed to do was come up with a plan to neutralize Lieutenant General Zettour's mobility. Predicting that he would send his most mobile forces there, the Federation Army placed the bulk of their reserves right at the base of their salient.
They even mustered their newest recruits for the large-scale ambush they had planned. And so they made ready to use the trickster's trick against him and destroy the core of the Empire's military might.
It eventually seemed like the enemy had fallen for this trap.
They had found what appeared to be aerial mages who belonged to a Kampfgruppe scouting their supply lines on the eastern front. The multinational volunteer unit stationed nearby attempted to intercept. They had been waiting for the imperial mages.
And while they succeeded in driving them back…the multinational forces lost two companies to Lieutenant General Zettour's deadly fangs in the process. This was a tremendous loss for the Federation.
But it was the final confirmation they needed.
"…He always starts his operations with a big attack."
As much as it made them want to swear, the Federation Army command knew the presence of highly skilled aerial mages was the signal they had been waiting for. The fact that he was using Named mages revealed the area where he would focus his attack.
"It's about to begin."
Multiple people in command expressed this sentiment. An imperial attack had occurred exactly where the Federation Army had predicted a full-scale frontal assault would eventually come. The first shot was fired with a large- scale artillery barrage.
They were inundated with a hail of shells like it was the opening salvo of an all-out attack. It wasn't the sort of bombardment an enemy could execute if they were on the run. This was what made the Federation commanders believe they had successfully read his intent. The Federation Army was growing confident in their information.
"Seems like our intel about their lack of ammunition was another one of his tricks."
The same voices expressed another sentiment. "We'll get him this time!"
Had they failed to predict his movements, the attack would've thrown their troops into a panic. Fortunately, the Federation Army saw this coming and took appropriate precautionary measures.
They deployed their units in the lulls of artillery fire. They set up a tight perimeter and even conducted counter-battery fire.
"Everything is moving as we predicted… We have him right where we want him."
The commanding officers knew they were ready—this was their chance for revenge.
This time, for sure, they would catch that damn Lieutenant General Zettour. That was the very moment when the Federation Army command had quietly convinced themselves of their impending success.
It was the same moment when the con artist across the table, who they expected to show his hand at any moment, kicked the entire table out from in front of them.
-x-X-x-
THE SAME DAY, THE IMPERIAL ARMY'S PROVISIONAL COMMAND CENTER ON THE EASTERN FRONT
The senior officers had assembled in the command center. They had been summoned there on short notice, only being informed of Lieutenant General Zettour's plan moments ahead of time. His orders: Prepare for imminent battle.
They collectively nodded when they saw their target was the enemy salient.
Practically everyone had guessed that would be their goal, after all.
Not only had the front line been reorganized, but most of their firepower was also quietly concentrated around the salient in a way that didn't immediately stand out. Most of the battalions were comprised of new recruits, but this was the norm for keeping their numbers up on the eastern front. With this in consideration, their current formation was designed for mobile warfare.
Most of them believed this signaled that the master of maneuver warfare, Lieutenant General Zettour, was preparing his counteroffensive.
That was…until they saw their target.
"W-we're going to advance directly toward their main forces?! We're not hitting their supply line?!"
The room was immediately filled with astonished cries and dubious gazes. Lieutenant General Zettour quickly blew away their doubts with a laugh as he introduced his plan: Operation Mini–Revolving Door. His goal was the enemy's field army. It was a bold plan. He wanted to bypass their supply line entirely and punch deep into enemy lines.
Should they succeed, it would without a doubt go down in history as a legendary victory.
Emphasis on the should, as this was all contingent on them not failing. The officers were realists to a man. They all had the same word flash through their minds: reckless. It was a leap of faith that assumed their army could seize the initiative and penetrate deep into enemy territory, achieving total surprise.
It almost felt like a freshly minted lieutenant, straight out of the war academy, had come up with a too-ambitious plan after getting drunk off his ass.
"Sir, are we…really going to attempt this…?"
In an attempt to change the general's mind, a handful of officers approached their superior with sullen looks about them. Lieutenant General
Zettour remained firm as he bluntly cut them off.
"I've committed myself to this plan. This is our chance to act, and we need to do so with a steel resolve!"
He slammed his desk with his fist. The officers stared at one another in disbelief as Lieutenant General Zettour began speaking in a delighted tone.
"Think of it less as a strategy and more as a tactical ambush. We stand to gain a lot from this."
His subordinates timidly listened to his confident words before finally building up the courage to speak. A single officer stepped forward and raised a concrete objection.
-x-X-x-
[Image ]
-x-X-x-
"Sir, please reconsider a frontal attack."
Spare me the excuses, the general's eyes seemed to say, but the dissenting officer boldly pressed on.
"This is a prime chance to strike the enemy's supply line! Please reconsider, sir!"
"Let me ask you this… Are you fond of poker?" "What?"
"Try your hand at playing cards. It's even more interesting if you bet your cigars. You see, people can really learn a thing or two about over- and underestimating their hand when they have something to lose."
Card games are good because you have to hide your facial expression, and your opponent hides theirs. A game of bluffing, reading each other, and tricking each other.
Not only that but there was an element of luck to it, too.
Playing cards was like a strategic battle with your opponents, so much so that it was considered a reliable barometer for judging capable General Staff officers.
"Your suggestion is exactly what the Federation Army is waiting for. This is them we're talking about. You'd be out of your minds to think they don't have a welcome party waiting for us. Which is why…I'm going with an ambush. We're going to flank them so hard they fall into the seventh circle of hell."
When it came to reading their enemy's movements, the Federation analysts knew what they were doing. The enemy forces had predicted the Imperial Army's movements, just as Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff had.
This is perfect, Lieutenant General Zettour thought with a smile.
It was easier for him to abuse enemies who knew what they were doing. The most diligent commanders tended to be the easiest to trick. He planned on hunting them, hanging them, draining their blood, and cooking them up nice and juicy.
"You're at your most vulnerable when you think you have the enemy right where you want them. Convincing your enemy they have you caught in a trap is also the best way to trick them."
"You mean to tell us, sir, that the Federation Army's salient is something that we lured them into, and they are already certain that we are going to attack their supply line?"
The officer's question had a tone of overt suspicion to it…leaving a bad stench in the air.
It reeked of arrogance and underestimation. His contempt for the Federation Army made him biased. There were limits to how much pride one should show in their own ability.
"Are you insinuating the Federation Army doesn't have the ability to do that?"
"…I find it hard to believe they would. Surely they'll learn our ways at some point…but would it really happen so soon?"
"They have a good teacher."
The officer seemed confused. Lieutenant General Zettour puffed some smoke from his cigar. As unfortunate as it was, the Empire wasn't the only entity capable of research.
War forces its combatants to always continue learning.
Forgoing the slow accumulation of new tactics was the same as waiting for defeat. Relying too heavily on prior experience and habits was another deadly pitfall. He had to prevent these soldiers, who were accustomed to the eastern front, from developing misconceptions.
"It's all about experience, men. You need to learn from it. As unpleasant as it may be for us, the Federation Army has paid their entrance fee into the university of experience with blood. They should have something to show for it by now."
While the Federation Army was an extension of the rigid Federation, the same logic couldn't be applied on the battlefield.
This was when a lone, tense-looking command officer showed up. He was only there to do his job, but with this many higher-ups assembled, he found it hard to jump in.
Lieutenant General Zettour tactfully addressed the poor man. "You, what is it?"
"Y-yes, sir. I have a message. A message from Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff."
"Good. Calm down and read it to us."
"'The sun has cleared the fog.' I repeat, 'The sun has cleared the fog'… She's succeeded in drawing out the enemy, sir."
"Excellent." Zettour nodded with the biggest of smiles on his face. The colonel always accomplished the most with the least.
"Th-there's also…"
What is it now? All eyes in the room rest on the messenger, who continued.
"Sh-she's left a complaint." "A complaint?"
He didn't expect to hear that. For once, Zettour found himself on the receiving end of an ambush. He reflexively raised a questioning eyebrow. His surprised expression urged the young officer to continue.
"'I'd like to request for this to be the last time you send me on a mission this reckless,' she says."
"I can make that promise. This will be the last time I give such ambitious orders for this endeavor."
"Will there be a next time?"
That poor lieutenant colonel. That thought was plastered all over the young officer's face. Lieutenant General Zettour answered in an easy tone.
"There's no need to worry about that now. Worry about the next time when there is a next time."
Lieutenant General Zettour thanked the young officer before turning his scowl back onto his subordinates. He didn't have time for petty debates.
"Now, gentlemen. It's time to get to work. Let the Federation know what defeat tastes like."
And so the mobile forces under the command of Lieutenant General Zettour began to carry out their plan to encircle and annihilate the enemy, just as the Federation Army predicted they would.
The only difference was their true target lay east of the front line. It was an attack the Federation Army would never even dream of.
The Federation Army was ready to withstand a general imperial counteroffensive. It was what they had prepared for. But their experience was what would do them in.
-x-X-x-
[Attack plan)
-x-X-x-
…Knowledge can be a scary thing.
Those who were on the receiving end of the Imperial Army maneuvers would learn a new lesson this day. They had previously learned that the Imperial Army encircles their enemies and cuts them off by pinching a salient at its base.
This was why they had an idea where the Imperial Army would show up when they caught word of them mobilizing for a counteroffensive.
It was a pitfall of the mind. They were too sure of their insight on how the enemy moved.
They're coming for the supply line was all they could think about. It created a blind spot that allowed Zettour and his troops to lay a relatively basic ambush.
They would feint attacking their supply line when, in fact, they were using the salient as a revolving door. They would be conducting a full frontal assault against now-defenseless enemy positions. The surer of their predictions they were, the harder it would be for the Federation Army to right themselves.
And Lieutenant General Zettour had moved his troops without delay. After all, it was just the other day he had his troops retreating back the way they came in order to lure the enemies out. Despite being in Federation territory, he had created a rare spot where the Imperial Army's knowledge of the land could more than compete with the Federation Army's.
It was also a spot the Federation Army hadn't surveyed yet. Being thrust into the morass of battle there would cause problems for them. Their generals wouldn't be able to make the snap decisions on how to deploy their reserves. They would know they needed to fill the hole in their defense. They would know they needed to send soldiers there to do it. But they wouldn't know exactly where they should place them.
They would frantically research the spot they should've already had covered, but by the time they came up with an answer, it would already be too late.
It was the newly established supply hubs that were key.
The Imperial Army pushed deep into the Federation Army's front line to strike at these all-important bases. This spoke volumes about something Lieutenant General Zettour had learned from the Federation. He had also thoroughly studied his enemy—except he hadn't focused on his counterpart
but the idiosyncrasies of how the Federation Army set up its supply lines.
It had become standardized, which, for better or for worse, made it easier to predict. It was simple for Zettour to guess where the Federation supply bases were located when he knew the local geography.
Securing these supply depots certainly did clear logistical hurdles for bringing their troops provisions. He abandoned various precautions and ordered his tanks to accomplish the difficult job of overrunning these bases.
Without enough time to decide on what to do, the enemy would ultimately abandon around half their depots with the supplies intact. The Imperial Army could use what they left behind to fuel the tanks that had led the charge. Even better than this was…the seizure of their field artillery and supply of ammunition.
The heavy guns and shells were a godsend for Zettour's forces after they had used up what few shells they had held in reserve for their diversion. These are the supplies I needed, a delighted Lieutenant General Zettour thought as he immediately began reorganizing his field artillery.
Imperial artillery corps would finish their battle with Federation artillery pieces.
This was the eastern front, after all. They needed to make use of whatever they could get their hands on. The gunners they managed to scrounge up were already used to operating Federation weapons, so they were more than ready to light up enemy territory with their own equipment.
Unfortunately, the Federation Army command had a very accurate picture of the Imperial Army's troop strength, thanks to their incredibly thorough research. According to their predictions, the Imperial Army didn't have enough gunners to be able to spare any for a mission deep behind enemy lines.
That's why if they were suddenly hit with artillery from a place they deemed impossible, it was guaranteed to throw them into chaos.
Not only would it hit them in their blind spot but reports of enemy artillery behind their defensive line and the chaos that was coming would also muddle their intel on where the Empire's forces had procured the ammunition.
And after that…well, hitting the enemy where they were weakest was Lieutenant General Zettour's forte.