Venetian Red. Volume 5

 

Chapter 47 Sweet talk.

 

Nalin noticed Alam had finished his meal but had fallen silent again. Concern flickered across her face as she sensed he was holding something back. “Is something wrong?” she asked gently, her voice filled with warmth. “You seem like you want to talk, but you’re also reluctant.”

 

Alam shifted, hesitating before responding. “What’s your opinion on the True Horde?”

 

At the mention of the True Horde, Nalin’s expression shifted to one of shock and suspicion. This wasn’t a topic to be taken lightly; they were the enemies of both the Tsaatan and Blood Khaganate. “What do you mean by ‘what’s my opinion of the True Horde’? What do you want to know?” she replied cautiously.

 

“Let’s just say… I belong to them,” Alam revealed, his words hanging heavy in the air.

 

Nalin froze, her breath catching in her throat. “You’re a member of the True Horde?” she echoed, disbelief creeping into her voice. The warmth of their earlier conversation evaporated, replaced by tension.

 

“Yes,” Alam confirmed, his tone matter-of-fact.

 

Her voice rose in anger. “So you’re one of them—the group that massacres nomads and attacks my people?” Nalin’s eyes flashed with fury, and the tension between them crackled like static electricity.

 

“No, I don’t think we do that… We just attack mercenaries and Blood Khaganate soldiers,” Alam said, trying to defend himself.

 

Nalin’s anger simmered, but she kept her voice steady. “That’s not completely true. Your comrades attack innocent people for no reason and kill anyone who opposes them without mercy. They even kidnap children and enslave them. Your leader is a ruthless tyrant.”

 

Alam narrowed his eyes in response. “I’ve never heard that. I know some of them are new recruits under ex-warlords, but what you’re saying is half-truth.”

 

Nalin’s expression remained skeptical. “Well then, enlighten me. What’s the full truth?”

 

“The True Horde Confederation is uniting various mercenaries and tribes to take control of Central Asia. They reached Central China and Korea about three months ago. The Blood Khaganate is on the defensive… unless the Red Nation comes after them,” Alam explained.

 

Nalin’s surprise was evident. “You said the True Horde has already reached Central China and Korea? I thought they were still in Europe! Are you sure this information is correct?”

 

“Yes,” Alam replied, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. “I saw a golden statue of Kim Jong Un while I was in Korea.”

 

Nalin was momentarily stunned. “Wait, you’ve been to Korea yourself?”

 

“Yes,” Alam confirmed.

 

 

Nalin’s eyes widened in astonishment. “So you managed to conquer Korea and unite all their people into your group, and some factions joined you voluntarily? I thought Koreans were the most resistant against you, but they ended up joining you?” A hint of worry crept into her voice.

 

“Yes, some fought, and some joined willingly,” Alam replied.

 

Nalin’s expression intensified with concern. “That’s quite a development. How large is the True Horde now? How many members have you gathered?”

 

“It’s… a military secret,” Alam said, a teasing note in his tone.

 

“Of course, a military secret,” Nalin replied, rolling her eyes playfully. “Let’s make a bet. If I guess your group size correctly, will you tell me how many members the True Horde has?”

 

“Okay…” Alam said, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Good. Here’s my first guess: I think the True Horde is around two to three million people, with about 150,000 active members. Am I correct?” Nalin asked, a playful smirk on her lips.

 

“Eh… not quite right,” Alam replied, stifling a laugh.

 

Nalin’s curiosity piqued. “Really? I’m surprised to hear that. Can you tell me the correct answer so I know what my next guess should be?”

 

“The population is higher, but the army is actually lower than that,” Alam clarified.

 

Nalin furrowed her brow, trying to wrap her mind around the numbers. “Huh? That’s quite surprising. If the armies of the True Horde are lower than that number, then… I guess my next guess might be too high. How about nine to ten million for the population of the True Horde?”

 

“I think it’s safe to say that since we’re a confederation, our members might not always be truthful about their numbers,” Alam explained.

 

Nalin nodded, understanding the implication. “I see why you say the number could be higher. If some members don’t tell the truth about their number, then the actual population might be much larger.”

 

“Speaking of which, what do they say about the True Horde leader?” Alam asked, shifting the topic slightly.

 

Nalin hesitated, her tone becoming cautious. “Well… they say he’s a ruthless tyrant. He always seeks more power and tries to expand his territory. There are worse things said about him, but you probably don’t want to hear those.”

 

“Ha! I see…” Alam chuckled.

 

Nalin smiled, her mood lightening. “Now, why are you laughing at me? Don’t you know the True Horde leader is not someone to take lightly? He can be quite scary, you know.”

 

“Scary? Sure… but maybe he’s a vampire!” Alam winked playfully.

 

Nalin’s cheeks flushed at the thought. “Vampire? Pfft! Why would you say something like that?”

 

“Because vampires can be charming,” Alam teased.

 

Nalin couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Vampires are indeed charming, but they’re also dangerous. The main danger is their impulsive desire to suck you dry. They won’t stop until they drain you completely, and that’s why most people consider them dangerous monsters.”

 

Alam sighed heavily, his expression deepening as he processed Nalin's earlier warning about vampires. She noticed the change in his demeanor, concern knitting her brow. “What’s wrong? You seem bothered,” she asked gently.

 

“Yeah…” Alam replied, his voice trailing off.

 

Nalin’s concern grew as she sensed his reluctance to open up. “Okay, I’ll stop asking. Now, for my second guess… uh, how about 25 million? Do you want to reveal the true number now?”

 

“Uhk… I think I need sleep,” Alam murmured, his eyelids drooping.

 

“Yeah, you should definitely take a nap,” Nalin said, her tone lightening. “But about that bet… you remember what you promised, right?”

 

Alam stood up, ready to retreat to his bed. “I’m going to bed now,” he said.

 

“Yeah, you definitely need to rest. But let’s talk about our dinner date tomorrow,” Nalin said, smiling as she raised a finger, counting off her ideas. “How about I pick the place, and you choose the time?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Alam asked, confusion flickering across his face.

 

Nalin laughed, a playful glint in her eye. “I’m talking about the dinner date I mentioned yesterday! When you promised me dinner, you agreed to be my date, right?”

 

“Uh? What… date?” Alam stammered, trying to process her words.

 

“Oh, did you forget?” Nalin teased, leaning in closer. “Remember our bet about guessing the True Horde’s population? You promised me dinner if I got it right.”

 

“Oh, I see… that,” Alam replied, realization dawning on him.

 

Nalin’s smile widened. “Good! Now let me decide on the dinner date. Do you have any food preferences?”

 

“I… I don’t know. A date with a 16-year-old girl? Just be yourself; I’ll be okay.”

 

Nalin blushed slightly at the mention of her age. “I’m not THAT young! Please don’t describe me like that. But you’re right about one thing—I’ll just be myself. Anyway, is there any particular food you like?”

 

“So, how old are you?” Alam asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.

 

Surprised by the question, Nalin thought for a moment. “Well… I guess you can just guess.”

 

“Fourteen?” Alam guessed playfully.

 

She shook her head vigorously. “Nope, wrong again! Keep trying!”

 

“Haha… six?” he tried again.

 

Nalin raised an eyebrow, a mix of disbelief and amusement crossing her face. “No way! How can you guess that?”

 

“Okay, okay… sixteen?” Alam offered, a smirk on his lips.

 

“Not that young! You’re guessing in the wrong direction. Just imagine I’m in college. How old do I look?”

 

“Then why were you lying at first? You said you were around 16 or 17…”

 

Nalin pouted playfully, shaking her head. “Oh, that’s just a little white lie. I actually turned 17 last week. I look young because I always take care of myself.”

 

“Yeah, sure, next time you’ll be back to 16 again,” Alam joked.

 

Nalin laughed, her cheeks flushing. “Oh no, you got me! Yes, I probably would. But people often mistake me for 16, and it always makes me laugh. So, how old are you? I’m curious.”

 

“Guess,” Alam said, raising an eyebrow.

 

Nalin’s competitive spirit flared. “Okay, let’s play the guessing game. I’ll guess first. Hmm… you’re in your late 20s?”

 

“Umm… yeah, kinda,” Alam admitted, a grin creeping across his face.

 

“Late 20s? Maybe 28 then?” Nalin suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

“Sure, you can say that,” Alam replied, chuckling.

 

“Great! So I was right. The only bad thing is you’re 28 and still single… haha,” Nalin teased.

 

“Never mind… raising a child is hard, you know?” Alam retorted, his tone suddenly serious.

 

Nalin’s expression softened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up any sad memories. But hey, at least now you can go on a nice date with a pretty girl like me, right?”

“Not sure… I actually already have you,” Alam said, rubbing her cheek.

Nalin blushed. “Why are you suddenly so affectionate? You were so serious just a moment ago.”

“Yeah, we should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be interesting…” Alam said, pulling his blanket around him.

“Definitely,” Nalin agreed. “Do you have a horse or reindeer? We could have a picnic.”

“I have my old horse. Why reindeer?”

“I just see a lot of them around here.”

“True. Are you serious about that picnic?”

“Yeah, let’s see,” Alam said, yawning.

“Alright! Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow will be fun,” Nalin said as they settled in for the night. The bond between them grew stronger.

The weeks passed, September’s warmth giving way to October’s biting winds and snow. On the South Front…

The frozen steppes of Mongolia lay beneath a thick blanket of snow, a serene mask on the brewing war.

Panji sat atop his tank, surveying the terrain. The distant sounds of war—infantry, baggage trains pulled by horses and reindeer—filled the air. Snow transformed the world into an untouched realm, yet the land felt tense, holding its breath.

Patrick escorted Panji. The Bastard Brigade, now near-mythical, wore unified dark crimson cloaks, carried standard-issue rifles and machetes, but some kept personal items, like Patrick’s hat and katana.

A massive column of horsemen, armed with spears, guns, and RPGs, charged Panji's squad. “Attention! Enemy troops approaching! Get ready!”

The Red Army prepared, weapons ready. The ground trembled.

Gunfire erupted, and the horsemen charged into melee. Cannons and machine guns struggled in the snow, the Buffalo tank lagging behind. The horsemen attacked with terrifying speed. Chaos unfolded.

After a frenzied melee, machine gun fire forced a retreat, but the enemy regrouped. The machine gunners focused on the enemy commander, taking him down, but the horsemen surged forward.

Just as the tide seemed to turn, the Buffalo tank, freed from the snow by a chain, rumbled onto the front lines, its firepower sending the remaining horsemen fleeing.

“Another victory for justice!” Patrick shouted. Panji and the soldiers joined the battle cry.

A general staff member arrived on a snowmobile. “What’s wrong?”

“Sir, we had a victory. They tried to get in close, but the tank held them off.”

The officer nodded, scanning the battlefield. "They're trying to slow us down. We need to move faster. This terrain is tougher than we expected. We need to link up with the central force across the Orkhon River. The bulldozer and repair truck are damaged."

Panji suggested, "We could use the Buffalo to clear obstacles."

The officer looked at the tank. "It's not designed for that. It's a mobile gun."

"But it can clear obstacles with its guns. It's faster than waiting for engineers," Panji argued.

The officer sighed. "This advance is slower than planned. We're spread thin. The central force has more supplies."

Panji studied a map. "The river crossing shouldn't be a problem."

“Good. You’ll be promoted if we make it there. My Caesar bless our mighty army,” the officer said.

“I’ll do my best. Let’s move out! We shall cross the river and regroup!” Panji said.

The Red Army prepared to advance.

Chapter 48 Red Snow

Later, in mid-September 2404, near the Orkhon River, the frozen steppes of Mongolia stretched out like a vast, white canvas, dotted with rolling hills and the distant silhouettes of mountain peaks. The landscape was starkly beautiful, the snow-covered ground sparkling under the pale sun. Panji sat atop his tank, surveying the terrain with keen eyes, while nearby scouts moved swiftly, reporting their findings.

 

“Sir, no enemy spotted. We can use the Orkhon Bridge or build a pontoon bridge,” a scout reported.

“Pontoon bridge,” Panji commanded, a smile playing on his lips. “We don’t want our tanks taking an unscheduled bath. Do you think the enemy will attack mid-stream? It would be a rather damp way to die.” Like baptizing them in ice.

“Good choice, sir. I hope our 150-ton tank can handle this river,” the scout replied, glancing nervously at the icy waters. One good crack, and it's a metal coffin.

Unlike Hazel's Buffalo tanks, Panji's tanks were the latest version, boasting extended armor and larger calibers. However, it was still unclear which tank was superior; numbers on paper meant little. The true test of their capabilities would come in battle.

 

Panji watched the engineers work tirelessly, assembling the pontoon bridge over the frozen river. “I hope so, too,” he said, his smile unwavering.

 

“What’s on your mind, sir? You seem in a good mood,” the scout asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Well, our pontoon bridge is almost ready, and the enemy hasn’t attacked yet. I’m just hoping everything goes smoothly,” Panji replied, gesturing toward the bridge.

 

By the afternoon, the pontoon bridge was complete. Patrick approached, eyeing the structure. “It looks solid. Our troops can cross this river without issue. Do we wait until morning, or do we go now?”

 

“Now,” Panji decided, nodding firmly. “There’s no point in waiting.”

 

Patrick looked up at the yellowish sky. “Are you sure? It’ll be dark by the time we reach the other side.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Panji said, glancing at the sky. “It’ll be a bit cold, but it’s part of our journey. We’ll be fine.” He smiled, reassuring himself as much as his men.

 

“Okay, I’ll keep watch from that hill,” Patrick said before heading off with his squad, while the Buffalo tank began its slow crossing.

 

              

As Panji watched the Buffalo make its way across the pontoon bridge, his confidence grew. The engineers ensured the bridge held steady, and he nodded in approval, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Minutes passed, then Patrick’s voice came over the radio from the hill: “Enemy horsemen are coming!”

Panji’s heart pounded. He turned and saw the cavalry charging, their battle cries echoing. He signaled his squad to engage.

The horsemen, with spears and RPGs, attacked, targeting the Buffalo tank and the pontoon bridge. When the initial attack subsided, they retreated to regroup.

“Come back here, you buggers!” Panji shouted, urging his men on. The Buffalo’s gunners opened fire, hitting the retreating horsemen.

“They’re using Parthian shots! They’ll keep running if we let them,” Patrick yelled.

“Keep this battlefield clear,” Panji replied, telling the Buffalo to keep firing and Patrick to pursue.

Suddenly, a new group of horsemen, in winged costumes and armed with explosives, charged from the riverbank. “It’s better to die fighting than at home! Attack!” their commander yelled.

Night fell quickly, making it hard to see. The skirmish became chaotic, with soldiers and horsemen clashing in close combat.

Panji watched the horsemen’s explosives hit his troops. He signaled the Buffalo to fire again, but the night was filled with screams and the sounds of battle.

A horseman slipped past and detonated himself on the pontoon bridge, damaging it and trapping the Buffalo in the river. Panji’s heart sank.

The fighting continued for hours. Firelight flickered across the battlefield, casting shadows as soldiers fought in the dark.

Finally, the horsemen retreated, throwing explosive bolas as they fled. The Red Army, battered but still fighting, began to regroup.

“Patrick, we’re in the middle of nowhere! We need help!” Patrick’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Send a squad to assist Patrick!” Panji ordered.

Patrick and his squad, having chased the enemy, were now isolated and facing a counterattack in the darkness.

“Dig in until help arrives! We’ll be killed if we keep moving!” one of Patrick’s men urged.

“Damn it! We can’t dig in!” Patrick yelled, frustrated as they were surrounded.

The fighting intensified, the Red Army using bayonets and swords. Though outnumbered, they held their ground.

Then, a flare lit up the battlefield. Patrick saw the horsemen just meters away. Both sides opened fire at close range.

Gunfire erupted everywhere. Red Army soldiers and horsemen fought desperately. The air was thick with smoke and cries. Panji fought a horseman hand-to-hand.

Around him, the battlefield was chaos. Some Red soldiers broke formation, chasing the horsemen. Only Panji and his opponent remained focused.

Another flare lit the night, signaling reinforcements. Panji realized he was out of ammo. The horseman was too. They stared at each other, knowing any move could be their last.

The horseman dismounted and attacked Panji with a scimitar. Panji parried with his sword.

“Sir, we can’t shoot! Too many near misses!” a voice crackled over the radio.

“Can’t you just shoot at their location?” Panji yelled back, still fighting.

“It’s too chaotic! Our machine gun can’t get a clear shot!”

“Dammit!” Panji growled, fighting on.

Then, reinforcements opened fire. Bullets flew wildly. One hit the horseman’s leg. Panji grabbed the horseman’s gun and fired at the nearest enemy.

Shooting, explosions, blood, and corpses surrounded him. Finally, the reinforcements arrived, and the remaining horsemen fled.

“Keep firing! Don’t let them escape!” Panji shouted.

As the horsemen vanished, Panji took a breath. “We somewhat survived… Caesar is on our side today,” a soldier said.

“Yeah,” Panji replied, noticing blood dripping from his leg.

Hours later, as the survivors regrouped with the main force, Panji looked across the battlefield and saw the Buffalo tank stuck in the river, its massive frame rendered immobile after the pontoon bridge was damaged. He leaned on his sword, feeling the weight of exhaustion.

Panji’s gaze fell on Patrick, who stood staring at the tank, a look of defeat on his face. The cold wind bit at them, and the river’s icy waters reflected the dim light of the fading day.

Just then, an AI sensor chimed in, its robotic voice cutting through the quiet. “21:12 hrs. Lunar illumination at 87%. Visual: single equestrian figure emerges from the eastern crest. Duration 17 seconds. Subject and steed descend into the tree line at 21:13 hrs.”

“What in the world…?” Panji muttered as a lone rider appeared against the moonlight, chanting a strange taunt before disappearing into the trees.

“I don’t know what that is, but it gives me the creeps,” one soldier said, shivering.

Panji nodded, his instincts on high alert. “Stay sharp, everyone. We don’t know if that was a threat or not.”

“Sir, I think we should dig in until morning. We need to hope the middle army arrives to help us,” another soldier suggested, glancing nervously at the darkening horizon.

Panji studied the faces of his men, seeing their uncertainty and fear. He knew they couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again. “Alright, let’s dig in and prepare defenses. We need to be ready for anything,” he commanded.

As the soldiers began to fortify their position, Panji felt the weight of leadership pressing on him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. “Let’s get to work,” he urged, determination fueling his resolve.

 

Chapter 49 Date with Alam

 

As the sun rose, Nalin stretched, eager for her date with Alam. She put on her favorite dress and a touch of makeup.

Alam waited by the fireplace in the living room, enjoying the warmth.

Nalin came downstairs, her eyes meeting Alam’s. “Good morning!” she smiled.

“Hey, you look different,” Alam said, raising an eyebrow.

“Different? I did some facial care. Do I look better?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere! Why bother with makeup? You’re naturally beautiful,” he teased.

Nalin blushed. “I just feel a bit uncomfortable without it. Do you actually like how I look?”

“Hmm. It’s interesting,” Alam said, patting her head lightly.

Nalin feigned a pout. “Why did you pat me? Do you think I’m a child?”

“Well, you are a bit,” he chuckled.

Nalin leaned forward, mischievous. “So you’re responsible for me? Then you have to pick me up on time!”

“Ugh, I’m kind of sleepy,” Alam admitted, yawning.

“Still sleepy? Should I be worried?”

“No, just bored. It’s peaceful here, but I can’t do what I usually do.”

“It is quiet. We need some entertainment.”

“What do you want to do today? Know a good picnic spot?”

“Yes! A beautiful place near the west taiga, with green forests and moonlight!”

“More trees? What’s the difference?”

“There isn’t much difference besides a few buildings. But it’ll still be a lovely date! Do you like the forest here?”

“Hmm, alright then. Let’s go. Do we bring the horse?”

Nalin chuckled. “This is my old horse. I raised him. He’s tame. I usually use my reindeer now.”

“Wait, you were a refugee? Have you always been nomadic?”

Nalin’s expression turned serious. “Yes. After the Great Disaster War. My family escaped with this horse. We arrived seven years ago, during the Crimson Nation and Blood Khaganate war. It was stressful, surviving in a foreign land, competing with other refugees for resources. I saw terrible things… refugees turning on each other for food. Even the forest animals became targets.”

A heavy silence fell.

Nalin gave him a teasing smile. “But enough of that! We have a picnic, right?”

“Right. Let’s make it a good one.”

Nalin went to the horse outside.

“Okay, let’s mount up,” Alam said, following.

Nalin stopped. “Wait! I forgot the saddle and rope! They’re in the storage cabinet.”

Alam went inside, found the saddle and rope, and pocketed a flare gun he saw.

They saddled the horse and rode off. A light breeze carried the scent of the forest.

“Hm, Nalin…” Alam began. “Do the villagers just let us go alone?”

“I wasn’t expecting chaperones. They trust me. But what about you? Are you okay without one?” she teased.

“I’m a bit naughty,” Alam said. “Maybe I’ll have to behave.”

Nalin laughed. “How naughty? Give me an example.”

“I flirt with women for fun,” Alam admitted.

Nalin leaned closer. “Really? Confident, huh? Flirt with me using your best lines!”

“I’m different now,” Alam said.

“Aw, come on! Don’t be shy!”

“This looks like a good spot for breakfast,” Alam said, glancing around.

“Yes, perfect! Quiet and private. Let’s eat here.” She reached for the picnic basket.

“Ahh… what a beautiful time,” Alam murmured.

After setting out the food, Alam leaned back. “After we eat… a little nap, right?”

Nalin nodded.

Alam playfully patted her head. Nalin giggled and patted his head back.

“Can I nap on your thigh?” Alam asked.

Nalin raised an eyebrow. “Why not use the grass? It’s soft!”

“Alright,” he said, lying back. “Pat my head while I sleep.”

Nalin gently patted his head, humming a folk song.

“Do you think fighting for someone else is worth it?” Alam asked suddenly.

Nalin considered. “In most cases, no. Relationships are fragile. But fighting for the right thing might be.”

“I think you’re right. I’ll fight for my pleasure,” Alam laughed.

Nalin chuckled. “But what’s my place in those fights?”

“You know the answer,” he teased.

“Oh? You’re just bringing me along for fun?”

“Yeah, like you said, relationships are temporary. It could be tomorrow or fifty years from now,” Alam said.

Nalin chuckled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Fair enough. Let’s enjoy this picnic.”

As Alam nodded, Nalin yawned and leaned closer, embracing him.

A helicopter appeared, breaking the peace. “Oh dear! A helicopter!”

“Is that a Black Hawk?” Alam squinted.

“It’s flying low, hiding in the fog. And it’s not heading toward the battle.”

“Probably a friendly or… a hunter,” Alam said seriously.

“Don’t do anything foolish! It’s just a helicopter. We’re far from the fighting. They might not even notice us.”

“It’s approaching where I crashed before,” Alam said gravely.

Nalin’s heart raced. “Wait… does that mean…”

“It’s been two weeks. Probably a rescue team,” Alam explained.

“Yeah, that makes sense. They’d likely start searching for you in this area,” Nalin said, her voice steadying.

 

“I’ll miss our time here,” Alam said, his gaze distant.

 

Nalin felt a lump in her throat. “I’ll miss it too. But we can still meet again after this picnic, right?”

 

“No… I mean, I will go,” Alam said, suddenly serious, as he shot a flare into the sky.

 

Nalin turned to look at the helicopter, watching as it responded to the signal. “They saw our flare! It looks like our picnic is coming to an end.”

 

“Yeah…” Alam’s expression was conflicted. “I hope it’s a rescue team. If not, then…”

 

Nalin, sensing his anxiety, tried to remain optimistic. “Don’t be too pessimistic. The chances of it being a rescue team are much higher than a hunting party.”

 

“True,” Alam said, glancing at her. “But I’m actually the leader of the True Horde confederation.”

 

Nalin’s heart sank. “Wait, so you’re the leader? Do you think the war will affect our relationship?”

 

“Not really. The question is… will my mask affect our relationship?” Alam replied, his tone shifting.

 

Nalin’s eyes widened in realization. “So that’s why you wear a mask outside the village. But what kind of person are you without it? That’s the true you.”

 

“I wear it to avoid the mixed opinions about me in this settlement. Hiding is just safer,” he explained.

 

Nalin considered this, her expression turning serious. “But does the negative opinion really affect you to the point where you have to hide?”

 

“Let’s just say my helicopter crashed because someone tried to kill me, and my crew probably didn’t make it,” Alam said, his voice heavy with regret.

 

Nalin’s heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry. You faced life-threatening danger, and you lost those close to you. My condolences.”

 

“Thanks,” Alam replied, his gaze distant as the helicopter flew closer. He waved at the crew, who spotted him and threw down an intercom.

 

After a brief communication, the helicopter began to rise again, disappearing into the sky.

 

“They’ll come back with ground units and escort me to a nearby clearing,” Alam said, relief washing over him.

 

Nalin smiled, feeling lighter at the thought. “That’s good! But will they harm us if I go with you to the nearest helicopter base?”

 

“Maybe. But if you do, you probably won’t see the bears again for a long time,” Alam teased.

 

Nalin sighed, a mix of emotions swirling within her. “I guess it’s an unexpected surprise for me. I’ll follow you, even if it means missing the bears.”

 

“Let’s head back to the village, then,” Alam said, determination in his voice.

 

Nalin nodded and turned toward the west taiga village. As they rode, she noticed the villagers watching them closely, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

 

“Just ignore them. They’ll probably report this to the village leader because you’re the leader of the True Horde,” she said, her tone firm.

 

“Do you think Abubakar, the guardian of the village, hates the True Horde?” Alam asked quietly.

 

“It’s hard to say. Many villagers live under the regime of the True Horde, and while they may not openly express hatred, I’m sure some secretly do. They’re just ordinary people trying to avoid conflict,” Nalin replied.

 

 

“Alright, let’s go inside and pack your belongings,” Alam instructed, his tone casual yet firm.

 

Nalin nodded, quickly entering her small house in the West Taiga village, her heart racing with anticipation. She packed her belongings, moving with a sense of urgency. After a few minutes, she emerged, carrying her things and scanning the familiar surroundings to ensure everything was safely hidden in the dense forest.

 

“I think it’s better if you write a letter for Bear,” Alam suggested, a hint of seriousness in his voice. “He was kind of a dad figure for you here.”

 

Nalin chuckled, shaking her head. “I guess he is… but it’s weird to feel so attached to a bear after living alone without family or friends. I mean, I’m writing a letter to a bear!”

 

“Hey, do it!” Alam encouraged, a playful grin spreading across his face.

 

With a sigh, Nalin retrieved paper and a pen, her expression softening as she poured her thoughts into the letter. After writing a heartfelt message, she folded it neatly and sealed it with a candle wax.

 

“Good,” Alam said, placing his pistol on top of the envelope. “He gave me shelter and helped me recover. This is the least I can do to repay his kindness. Oh, and I took his flare gun too,” he added with a chuckle.

 

Nalin raised an eyebrow at the flare gun. “Let’s hope we don’t need that anytime soon,” she teased, then whispered a quick prayer for both Bear and the rescue team’s safety.

 

“Do you need to say goodbye to anyone here?” Alam asked, glancing at her.

 

Nalin hesitated, her heart heavy. “I don’t really want to say goodbye. I feel like they’d worry when I just disappear to follow you to the helicopter base.”

 

“Got it,” Alam replied, understanding her reluctance.

 

Nalin checked her watch, wondering how soon the rescue team would arrive. Just then, Alam patted her head, and she felt a warmth spread through her.

 

“Hey! I’m not a kid!” she protested playfully, but couldn’t suppress a smile.

 

“Just keeping you grounded,” he replied with a wink.

 

Suddenly, Nalin remembered something. “Oh no! My horse!” she exclaimed, realizing she had nearly forgotten her.

 

“What are you going to do about her? Sell her? Gift her to someone?” Alam asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I think I’ll give her to someone nearby. It would be cruel to leave her alone in this remote area,” Nalin decided, feeling a pang of sadness.

 

“Good plan,” Alam said, nodding in approval.

 

Nalin approached a local villager, whispering her request. “Can you please take care of my horse? I’ll give you a small package as a gift.”

 

The villager’s eyes lit up at the mention of a gift, and she quickly accepted the leather bag Nalin offered. Inside were biscuits, a small treat for her generosity.

 

Returning to Alam, Nalin felt a mix of emotions. “I guess it’s time to go,” she said, her voice soft.

 

“Good. And pack your stuff as well,” Alam said, leading her toward the main building of the base.

 

As they rode back, Nalin noticed the villagers watching them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion. She raised an eyebrow. “Just ignore them. They’ll likely report this to the village leader since you’re a top leader of the True Horde.”

 

“Do you think Abubakar, the guardian of the village, hates the True Horde?” Alam asked.

 

“It’s hard to say. They live under the regime of the True Horde, but I bet many of them harbor resentment. They’re just ordinary people who want to avoid conflict,” Nalin replied, her tone serious.

 

As they approached the helicopter, Alam waved at two ATV riders in the distance. The rescue team sped toward them, stopping abruptly as they dismounted to assess the situation.

 

“Greetings!” Alam called out.

 

“Thank Gott you’re alive, sir!” one of the crew members exclaimed, relief washing over his face.

 

“Yes, let’s head to our Hind,” Alam replied, his voice filled with gratitude.

 

Nalin climbed into the passenger seat of the helicopter, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within her as the rescue team secured the doors. The pilot’s voice broke through her thoughts. “We’re ready to go. Let’s head back to the nearest base.”

 

As the helicopter lifted off, Nalin glanced at Alam. “Thank you for everything,” she said quietly.

 

Alam smiled, but his expression quickly turned serious as he looked at the monitor, scratching his head. “Oh, damn…”

 

“Are you okay? Is everything fine?” Nalin asked, concern flooding her voice.

 

“No… My vassals have been attacking the Red Nation on their own since I disappeared. The Red Army has reached Ulaanbaatar now,” Alam revealed, his tone heavy with worry.

 

Nalin gasped, the weight of his words sinking in. The balance of power was shifting rapidly, and uncertainty loomed over them both.

 

Since Alam's absence, the various warlords within the True Horde had been shaken. They were eager to replace him but struggled to find a worthy successor. Each warlord raced to prove themselves by launching successful campaigns against the Red Army, hoping to gain recognition as the new leader of the True Horde. However, their lack of coordination turned their efforts into a chaotic disaster, with campaigns lacking cohesion and unity.

 

that’s, our two protagonist alam and panji now are really in facing a new world. alam which his force slaughter in east on his vacation plus his favorite secretary and ex eleanor is missing.

while panji trying be a war hero fight a slog war in brutal war in winter. what will happen to them. do they will stop ww4? can just two man stop the force of nature?

Chapter 50 Old Wounds

News intro with quick cuts of an abandoned nuclear reactor in Central Asia, then war footage

then camera focus of Veronica "Hey everyone, Veronica here, and things in Central Asia are… well, let's just say it's not a postcard. We're talking about the war, obviously, but there's something else bubbling under the surface: depleted uranium, or DU. It's not just bullets and bombs we need to worry about, folks."

"So, what's the deal with DU? Turns out, it's not exactly health food."

• Cancer: "First off, there's the big C. Studies suggest a link between DU exposure and higher cancer rates, like lung cancer and leukemia. So, yeah, pretty serious stuff."
• Kidney Damage: "Then there's your kidneys. DU can build up in there and cause some real problems. Nobody wants that, right?"
• Birth Defects: "This one's especially worrying: DU exposure has been linked to birth defects. If you're thinking about having kids, this is definitely something to be aware of."
• Genetic Damage: "And it gets passed down. DU can mess with your genes in a way that affects future generations. Talk about a long-term problem."
• Air Pollution: "On top of all that, the war itself is making things worse. Remember those oil wells set on fire? That's pumping a ton of nasty stuff into the air. this makes breathing difficult for people in the affected areas."
• Soil and Water Contamination: "And guess what? DU waste and fuel spills are getting into the soil and water. So, growing your own food? Probably not the best idea right now."
• Ecosystem Damage: "Let's not forget the environment. The fighting is destroying habitats and putting species at risk. Not good for anyone."

"So, to sum it up, the Central Asia War isn't just about the fighting. DU exposure is a serious health risk, with long-term consequences. We need to be aware of these dangers and take them seriously. Stay safe out there, Central Asia. And if you see something suspicious, stay far away. This is Veronica, signing off."

then its Cut to images of mutated creatures

Alam sigh while watch the monitor, The news was grim. It was all true. Since the war began, civilians and soldiers alike had suffered numerous health problems. The region was becoming a wasteland. not slang of “eastern wasteland” they usualy refer to. but the real one.

Alam stepped off the helicopter into the crisp air of Lhasa. The high-altitude plateau spread out before him, a stunning mix of browns and greens under the Himalayan peaks. The Potala Palace stood majestically, welcoming him to the Land of the Snows.

 

At the nearby military base, Alam met Light, a casually dressed figure with striking black hair and purple eyes, a sword hanging from his hip. His unassuming appearance would surprise anyone who might expect a high-ranking officer.

 

“Hello again. War is progressing,” Alam began. “Winter is coming, and enemy super tanks are sluggish. But tell me, have you encountered heavy armor before?”

 

Light smirked. “My first war was against heavy tanks. Sluggish in winter, but still dangerous. What’s your equipment like?”

“Lighter, mobile units. We attack at night and at bridge crossings, but in open fields, they’re unstoppable,” Alam replied, frustrated.

“Avoid open areas unless necessary,” Light advised. “Winter is good for ambushes, but watch out for snowstorms.”

“True. We use hit-and-run tactics and have the home advantage. But how do we deal with heavy armor?”

“Heavy artillery,” Light said seriously. “Or capture theirs. Even super tanks can’t withstand a barrage.”

Alam sighed. “Every shot reveals our position. I tried luring them out by throwing everything at them, even their fallen, but they’re stoic.”

Light chuckled. “A bold move. But stoicism makes them hard to trick. Experience keeps them cautious.”

“How do you appear weak?” Alam asked.

“Pretend to retreat. Lure them out of their positions,” Light suggested. “Risky, but effective.”

“Good idea. Decoys will be costly,” Alam mused.

“Exactly. But if they sense weakness, they’ll become overconfident,” Light explained.

“Got it. Some enemy units mix mercenaries and recruits with elite troops. I need to divide them. Maybe rumors…”

“Rumors are good. Target their egos,” Light agreed. “Rumor a weakness in their equipment or suggest internal betrayal.”

“Tell me more.”

“Believability is key. People believe what’s repeated. Control the source, and it becomes contagious.”

“I’ll find someone to bribe,” Alam said.

“Doesn’t have to be high-ranking. Even common soldiers work, with careful manipulation,” Light advised. “I’ve even used my own commander.”

“Example?”

“I had a disloyal commander spread a rumor about a traitor. It created mistrust. Disloyal people prioritize self-interest.”

“Interesting. I’ll exploit their weaknesses.”

“It’s not guaranteed,” Light warned. “Ego can outweigh strategy.”

“Good point,” Alam conceded.

Their conversation ended, Alam glancing at the Potala Palace before ordering his pilot to fly.

Alam returned to the military base in mid-September, the weight of his recent experiences heavy on his shoulders. Now, he was back to reclaim his power and forgive his vassals for the disaster of the last campaign. He understood that the chaos stemmed from the diverse backgrounds of those under his command. By November, he planned to have the True Horde back under his control, but for now, he faced a world filled with uncertainty.

 

The next day, the evacuation of the base was complete, and Alam was en route to a new base in Xian. Inside the Hind helicopter, Nalin sat quietly beside him, lost in her thoughts.

 

“Ahh… here we are, Xian,” Alam said as they descended, nostalgia washing over him. “I fought one of my greatest battles here a few months ago.”

 

Nalin’s curiosity piqued. “You fought a great battle here? What happened?”

 

“Yes,” Alam replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I besieged the Xian Empire, attacking two cities at once with only a hundred soldiers, ten IFVs, and a single Hind, facing thousands of enemies.”

 

Nalin’s eyes widened in surprise. “That sounds impressive! You managed all that with so few people?”

 

“Yeah, I know it sounds cocky, but I was surprised I pulled it off,” Alam admitted with a modest smile. “Thanks to Gott and my men.”

 

Nalin fell quiet, pondering the role of Gott and Alam’s men in that monumental battle. “What’s your plan now?” she finally asked.

 

“I’ll hold a war council after this. We can take a walk afterward,” Alam said, glancing at her with a hint of excitement.

 

“Sure! I’d love to,” Nalin replied, her tone brightening.

 

“Oh, I know where we should go,” Alam said, starting the jeep with an escort to a nearby village.

 

“More flashy areas next time?” Nalin teased. “But what do you need to do here first?”

 

“There’s a middle-aged woman named Luo. She’s a widow, and her children died in battle. I visited her frequently during the siege. I just need to check on her,” Alam explained.

 

Nalin’s expression softened. “That’s good. I’m sure she appreciates your visits.”

 

“Yeah, but it might be boring for you since you don’t know her,” he added, glancing at her.

 

“I’m fine. If you’re meeting with her, take your time. I can wait,” Nalin said, trying to hide her disappointment.

 

“Thanks,” Alam replied, patting her head affectionately before heading toward the village.

 

As they approached, Alam knocked on the door of a modest building. It opened slightly, revealing Luo’s kind face.

 

“Hello! Can I help you?” she asked, peering out.

 

“Can I meet Luo?” Alam inquired.

 

“Ah, that’s me! I’m so sorry, but you look a bit different,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in!”

 

“Yeah, I guess I have a tired face,” Alam said with a chuckle, taking a seat as Luo began to prepare tea.

 

“You look like you’ve experienced a hard life recently, but your spirit remains,” Luo said as she poured the steaming tea, her voice warm and inviting.

 

“Is that bad? It’s only been a couple of months,” Alam replied, taking a sip of the bitter tea.

 

“It’s not bad, but it’s clear you’ve been through a lot, especially with the unification of China,” Luo noted, concern lacing her tone.

 

“Yeah, I’m trying to control my emotions, even in battle,” Alam admitted, his gaze drifting.

 

Luo nodded, her expression thoughtful. “How long have you been fighting the Red Nation?”

 

“About two months now,” Alam replied, then added, “Does winter in Xian affect you?”

 

“It’s not too bad compared to other places. I’ve grown used to it over the years,” Luo explained.

 

“I see. You just get used to it after a while,” Alam said, nodding in understanding.

 

“Yes, exactly. But what about you? How does the climate affect you?” Luo asked.

 

“Ha, it’s like a sea of ice where I come from,” Alam said, showing her a photo of his base buried in snow.

 

Luo marveled at the image. “You could survive living in such cold?”

 

“I wanted to stay longer, but there’s someone waiting for me,” Alam replied, glancing toward the door.

 

“Who’s waiting for you? A comrade or someone special?” Luo asked with a hint of curiosity.

 

“Kind of,” Alam said with a grin. “My base operation is now in Xian, and if Gott wills it, I can visit again soon.”

 

“I hope you do. I’m interested in hearing more about your adventures,” Luo said, her smile brightening the room.

 

“Thanks for the tea. It’s been great catching up,” Alam said as he prepared to leave.

 

“Thank you for visiting, and I hope we can meet again,” Luo replied warmly.

 

As Alam stepped outside, As he approached Nalin, he couldn’t help but tease, “Do I take long? Hehe.”

Nalin looked up, feigning disappointment. “Yes, you have been a while. I thought you would be back sooner, but it seems my wait got longer.”

“Anyway, what do you want to see in the city? There are museums and advanced stores,” Alam suggested, eager to shift the mood.

Nalin thought for a moment. “The museum sounds interesting. I believe it would have some fascinating artifacts.”

“Alright, let’s go then!” Alam replied, excitement bubbling in his voice.

They rode back to the city, eventually reaching the Terracotta Museum. As they arrived, the escort parked the vehicle and guided them inside. The museum was a treasure trove of ancient Chinese artifacts, a sprawling testament to the rich history that surrounded them.

“Nalin, do you know this place from your encyclopedia collection?” Alam asked, glancing over at her.

“Yes! I’ve read about this museum. It’s one of the largest in the China Empire, filled with interesting exhibits about the culture and history,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“What do you know about terracotta?” Alam pressed, genuinely curious.

Nalin smiled, ready to share her knowledge. “Terracotta is a type of clay often found in China, used since ancient times for pottery and other purposes. The Terracotta Warriors are symbolic figures made from it, representing the might of the Chinese Empire.”

“Hehe, I see,” Alam said, amused. “But what’s your honest feeling? Why would someone bother to make statues on such a massive scale?”

Nalin paused, thinking carefully. “I don’t know for sure, but it likely relates to the pride of the civilization. Creating gigantic statues projects power and permanence.”

“Sounds about right,” Alam replied thoughtfully.

As they admired the imposing terracotta warriors, Nalin felt a swell of awe. The craftsmanship was astounding, and it struck her how these figures had stood the test of time.

“Speaking of battles, my war council meeting is soon. We’ll continue our little adventure later,” Alam said, glancing at the time.

Nalin felt a flicker of disappointment but quickly masked it. “Oh, I understand. Go meet the war council. We can continue this later when you’re free,” she said softly.

“Alright. Feel free to roam while I’m in the meeting. There will be an escort to guard you,” Alam added, his tone reassuring.

“Really? I can explore while the escort guards me?” Nalin’s voice brightened.

“Yes. People nearby know we’re close, so you’ll need an escort wherever you go,” Alam explained.

Nalin’s excitement dimmed slightly at the thought of being a burden. “But are you sure it’s fine? I don’t want to tire them out with my wandering.”

“Don’t worry! Your escort might enjoy it. They could use a vacation too,” Alam joked, trying to lighten her mood.

“Oh, I see! If they get a vacation too, then it shouldn't be a bother,” she said, her smile returning.

“Exactly. Alright, I’ll see you later,” Alam said, heading toward the meeting.

“Okay, bye for now. Good luck with the war council! I hope everything goes well,” Nalin replied, watching him go with a mix of admiration and concern for his burdens.

She took a deep breath, ready to embrace her newfound freedom to explore, her heart fluttering with the possibilities that lay ahead.

 

Most people in the military are driven by a sense of purpose. They want to contribute to their families and their country. Fang had acted as Alam's successor during his absence, but now she was back to being his loyal subordinate.

 

Alam stepped into the bustling headquarters of the True Horde, a hive of activity where officials and officers moved with determination, ensuring everything ran smoothly. The atmosphere buzzed with urgency, and as Alam entered, heads turned in his direction. Among them was Fang, who greeted him with a respectful bow and a warm smile.

 

“Good to see you all. Please, have a seat,” Alam gestured to the assembled officers.

 

They complied, whispers rippling through the room as they discussed Alam’s sudden return and the assassination attempt against him. Was it a traitor within the True Horde, or an elite enemy force? As a strategist, Alam knew he had to choose his words carefully.

 

Fang stood beside him, sensing the tension in the air.

 

“Ehem. From our reports, someone hacked the SAM system and targeted my Hind. They also sent a spec ops team to eliminate me. It must have been their elite force,” Alam stated, his tone grave.

 

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Alam chose to blame the unknown enemy rather than suggest a traitor within the True Horde. He believed this would help unite the shaken group. Fang’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and anger.

 

“Anyway, we’ve initiated an investigation into that incident. Now, let’s focus on the Red Army invasion. Here’s the latest intel on their new super tank,” Alam said, motioning toward a screen displaying an imposing image of the Buffalo tank, nicknamed "The Giant Coffin" by its crews.

 

“Impressive… very impressive,” Fang remarked, her eyes gleaming. “How many do the Red Nation have?”

 

"We don't know. But every engagement reveals more. Conventional attacks are proving difficult."

"Its armor is a serious problem," Fang agreed. "Do we know its weaknesses?"

"My artisan is working on a countermeasure, but it's still in prototype," Alam admitted.

Baihu looked perplexed. Zhang was focused. Jax's eyes burned with determination.

"For now," Alam continued, "we'll rely on sabotage and guerrilla tactics. Hilly and forested terrain is our advantage. Open fields are theirs."

"So terrain is key," Fang summarized. "We must avoid open plains."

"Exactly," Alam confirmed. "And with winter approaching, the steppe will become a liability for them."

"We should target their river crossings and supply lines," Fang suggested.

"Agreed. Any questions?" Alam scanned the room.

 

“No, Sir. Thank you for your briefing. We will work tirelessly to thwart the Red Nation's invasion and develop new tools against the Buffalo. We won’t let their arsenal defeat us,” she said, her determination unwavering as she bowed respectfully.

 

“Then let’s prepare. They’ve thrown a beast at us, but like Goliath or the elephants Alexander faced at Gaugamela, we will slay that beast and bring shame to the Red Army!” Alam declared, his voice rising with passion.

 

The officers echoed his words, their resolve solidifying. Fang stood proudly beside Alam, her hand gripping her pistol holster, ready to carry out their leader’s orders and face the Red Nation’s invasion head-on.

Meanwhile, in the South Red Army Position

 

As the Red Army huddled by the riverside, tension hung thick in the air. They stood watch all night, alert for any signs of an enemy attack. The atmosphere was charged with anxiety, the soldiers' breaths visible in the cold morning air. Panji moved among them, checking on their morale, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

 

At dawn, a scout from the middle army arrived, breathless and urgent. “Sir, the middle army is bringing heavy equipment and workers to retrieve the tank stuck in the river. If the recovery fails, our supreme leader has ordered its destruction and a regroup.”

 

Panji felt a wave of relief wash over him. “That’s good news. We can either salvage the tank or ensure it doesn’t fall into enemy hands.”

 

“But destroy a million-credit tank? That’s insane!” one soldier exclaimed.

 

“Yeah, but a destroyed tank is better than letting it fall into enemy hands,” another added, nodding in agreement.

 

Panji acknowledged their comments with a nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. The loss of such a valuable asset weighed heavily on them all.

 

Patrick, however, was visibly distressed by the idea of destruction. “Destroy the tank? It’s like destroying a home,” he muttered, gazing up at the massive vehicle. The tank, a mobile fortress on the battlefield, was a symbol of their strength. The thought of it being lost made him feel helpless.

 

“Hold on,” Panji said, noticing Patrick’s turmoil. “We’ll do everything we can to retrieve it.”

 

As the afternoon rolled in, heavy equipment arrived—cranes and tractors accompanied by workers and soldiers. They immediately began digging and attaching chains to the tank, their movements a mix of urgency and tension.

 

Suddenly, an unsettling taunt echoed across the riverbank, causing soldiers to jump into defensive positions. Panji felt a chill run down his spine, the strange noise unsettling the already anxious troops.

 

“What the hell...?” Patrick muttered, scanning the area as soldiers looked skyward and around, trying to pinpoint the source of the taunting. The sound grew louder, mocking them, and some soldiers attempted to respond, shouting back questions, but the voice offered no answers, just relentless taunting.

 

Then, with a sudden explosion, a mortar shell landed nearby, sending dirt and debris flying into the air. “Sir! They’re attacking again!” a soldier shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

 

“Hold position!” Panji commanded, his voice firm despite the chaos. The soldiers obeyed, taking defensive stances and watching every direction, aware that the enemy could be planning a more significant assault.

 

As they steadied themselves, the taunting voice echoed once more, unsettling their nerves. Then, amidst the noise, heads began to fall from the sky, landing with a sickening thud.

 

“Those are the heads of our comrades! They’re using catapults to launch them from the north!” a soldier exclaimed in horror.

 

“Could this be a distraction for an attack?” another asked, fear evident in his eyes.

 

Panji took a deep breath, the gruesome sight igniting a fire of determination within him. “Stay vigilant. We’re waiting for the enemy to reveal their next move,” he urged, trying to maintain control amidst the rising panic.

 

As the soldiers braced themselves, Zion’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Those bastards are smarter than we thought. They’re using our tactics against us. We need to keep our guard up at night and prepare for any attack. Reinforce the areas they’ve targeted.”

 

With the winter steppe at their backs, the Wanderer Group had managed to impede the Red Nation's advance into True Horde territory. The biting cold had slowed their movements, and the Wanderers’ hit-and-run tactics had effectively harassed the Red Nation’s troops, targeting supply lines and river crossings.

 

red army prepared for the night, digging foxholes and staying alert. They knew their enemies would exploit any weakness, and they couldn’t afford to lower their guard. The ominous presence of the enemy loomed over them.

 

“Sir, what should we do now?” a soldier asked, glancing anxiously at Patrick.

 

“Regroup with the middle army,” Panji said firmly.

 

Patrick nodded in agreement, relief washing over him. “I trust your judgment.”

 

The decision to regroup felt like a lifeline. A shared sense of purpose settled over the Red Army soldiers as they prepared to move, the image of the stranded Buffalo a stark reminder of the cost of this war. The setting sun cast long shadows across the snow-covered steppe, a cold promise of the night to come.

Thousands of miles away, in the dimly lit command center in California, the same setting sun cast a different kind of shadow – one of frustration and mounting pressure. Zion stared at the holographic map, the blinking lights representing his stalled advance across Central Asia. The rhythmic beeping of communication consoles punctuated the heavy silence.

"Damn it," he muttered, his eyes narrowed. "They're like ghosts. Attacking from the shadows, then vanishing. They know this land too well." He turned to the Red General. "How do we fight an enemy we can't pin down?"

The General shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, with the winter setting in… perhaps a strategic pause until spring…?"

Zion's jaw tightened. "A pause? That's conceding defeat. We are the Red Nation. We don't retreat. We adapt." He paced the room, his frustration palpable. "We need a counter-strategy. Something to flush them out."

General Sima, a Khaganate officer, spoke up. "What if we create a specialized unit? Trained in tracking, night combat… guerrilla warfare of our own."

A spark ignited in Zion's eyes. "Excellent. They know the land; we'll learn it. Conventional tactics won't work against them. We need hunters, not soldiers." He turned to Sima. "Assemble this unit. Immediately. I want the best equipment, the best training. Make them the mirror image of our enemy."

Sima’s eyes gleamed. “And to ensure compliance from the locals, we should demonstrate our power. A show of force. Perhaps… burn a few villages.”

Zion’s expression hardened. "Absolutely not. We are not barbarians. We target combatants, not civilians. We create allies, not enemies. Any civilian caught aiding the saboteurs will be dealt with according to protocol – interrogation, relocation to the Khaganate. Understood?"

“Understood,” Sima replied, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his face.

As Sima left, a junior officer approached, his face grim. “Sir, we’ve just received confirmation. The Buffalo… it’s irrecoverable. The enemy damaged the pontoon bridge during the attack. It’s stuck fast in the river.”

Zion rubbed his temples. "Another loss. They're targeting our assets, hitting us where it hurts. Are there any casualties?"

"The crew escaped, sir. They've rejoined the middle army. Our advance on the other fronts remains steady, though we've reached a stalemate in China."

Zion sighed. The news from China was a heavy blow. He knew the unification efforts there were gaining momentum. He had to find a way to break the deadlock.

"On a more… promising note, sir," the General added, "the Strato Cannon is nearing completion. We anticipate it will be operational by December."

A faint smile touched Zion's lips. "The Strato Cannon. Yes. That will change everything." He looked back at the map, his gaze hardening. "Until then… we adapt. We hunt the hunters."

Chapter 51 Winter Relationships

 

Alam stood atop the command tower of the Xian Base, peering through the heavy frost that coated the window like a winter's veil.. A long, bloody war lay ahead, and he couldn’t shake the hope that negotiation would soon break the tension. “This is going to be a slog,” he muttered to himself, the weight of the impending conflict pressing heavily on his mind.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by Fang, who had just entered with a flourish that could only be described as dramatic, if not somewhat unnecessary.perhaps she in drunk state “Ah, the illustrious lady mei is our best option,” Fang declared, her eyes glinting with the thrill of espionage. “sHe’s currently embedded in the Red Nation’s military, gathering secrets like a squirrel hoarding acorns for winter. I mean, without him, we’d be flying blind into a storm.”

 

Alam nodded, his brow furrowing. “Right, but what about a little deception? My advisor suggested we stir the pot. If we can spread rumors, perhaps we can drive a wedge between their soldiers and mercenaries. After all, nothing fuels distrust like a good old-fashioned whisper campaign.”

 

Fang clapped her hands together, an eager grin spreading across her face. “Delightfully mischievous! If we can sow discord among their ranks, we might just turn the tide in our favor. Imagine them looking over their shoulders, wondering who they can trust. It’s like high school drama, but with more bloodshed!”

 

“Yes, exactly,” Alam replied, a sly smile creeping onto his lips. “I’m planning to release one of their prisoners for a parley. We’ll let the rumors flow like fine wine at a banquet.”

 

Fang raised an eyebrow, her excitement palpable. “Ah, yes! A prisoner! Nothing says ‘let’s talk’ like an unexpected guest at the negotiation table. And who shall we invite to this little soirée?”

 

“Let’s start with Inat,” Alam said, his tone turning serious. “He’s the stoic general from the Blood Khaganate. A tough nut to crack, but I suspect he might have some insight worth tapping into.”

 

“Stoic and stubborn, just how I like my prisoners,” Fang quipped, following Alam down the dimly lit corridor toward Inat’s cell. “What’s the plan? Offer him a cup of tea and a biscuit?”

 

alam smile a bit on fang attempt to joke. clearly. she now in drunk state.

 

Inat sat in the shadows, a stone-faced figure. His sharp eyes seemed to pierce Alam. Alam took a breath.

“Hey, dude,” Alam said, sitting across from Inat. “Remember me?”

Inat’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You are the Wanderer leader. I remember you.” His voice was calm.

“Right. I’m here about your possible release,” Alam said, trying to sound confident.

Inat’s brow furrowed. “My release? Why? I am your prisoner.”

“Zion is attacking my territory. A general like you could help us reach a negotiation.”

Inat glared. “You want my help against the Red Nation? I fought against you in Central Asia. Why would I help?”

“Not exactly help,” Alam said with a grin. “More like… a bargaining chip.”

Inat’s expression darkened. “A hostage? I am not to be trifled with.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Alam said, raising his hands. “But let’s talk about you. What’s your story?”

Inat’s eyes flickered. “I joined the Blood Khaganate to protect my people after our homeland fell.”

Alam sniffed. “Your goal? Uniting Asia? World domination?”

“To bring order and stability to a chaotic world,” Inat said.

“Ironic,” Alam chuckled. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“You seek peace through conquest. Many would call you a hypocrite.”

“Hey, don’t we all?” Alam replied.

“Not all leaders. But many. Empires are forged through war.”

“True. But we’re softer than the Blood Khaganate. We prefer negotiation.”

Inat’s brow furrowed. “You think your methods are superior? Your hands are stained with blood too.”

“Bingo!” Alam said. “So, do you see me differently now?”

Inat’s expression softened slightly. “Our goals align, but our methods differ. You use conquest; I strive for peace.”

“Your arrogance is astounding,” Alam teased. “You’re either a mercenary or a Red Nation patriot.”

“I am a proud warrior of the Red Nation,” Inat replied. “I fought against your conquest.”

“Now you’re my prisoner!” Alam laughed.

Inat smiled faintly. “A powerful leader, a prisoner. Humbling.”

“How long have you served under Zion?” Alam asked.

“Long enough to see many rise and fall. I served under General Wu before Zion.”

“Tell me about General Wu.”

Inat took a deep breath. “General Wu was a great leader. But ambition is dangerous. He tried to overthrow the Red Nation and was executed.”

“Oh, spicy,” Alam grinned.

Inat nodded. “A harsh lesson in loyalty.”

“And how did Zion rise?”

Inat’s gaze turned distant. “Zion emerged from obscurity, a young, skilled general. He quickly rose through the ranks.”

Alam leaned back. “Interesting…”

Inat smiled nostalgically. “Zion’s rise was spectacular. His bravery made him a legend. A saga of courage, ambition, and determination.”

Alam chuckled. “Now his army’s stuck in the winter steppes.”

Inat laughed lightly. “Indeed! But don’t underestimate him. He’s a master strategist. He’ll find a way.”

“Really? What will he do?”

Inat considered. “His strategies are secret. But he’ll use the winter to his advantage. The terrain favors the defender.”

“Sounds like this is going to be one legendary battle, doesn’t it?” Alam mused, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

 

“Absolutely,” Inat replied, his voice steady. “Both our forces are formidable. The clashes will be fierce and devastating. This battle could very well determine the fate of Asia for years to come.”

 

“Who do you think will win?” Alam asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Inat smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I can’t say for certain. Both the Red Nation and the Wanderer Groups are powerful. I believe the Red Nation will fight with everything we have, but the outcome is unpredictable until the last blow is struck.”

 

Alam’s surprise was evident. “I didn’t expect you to say that. I thought for sure a die-hard patriot like you would confidently claim the Red Nation’s victory.”

 

“I’m a patriot, yes, but I’m not delusional,” Inat replied, his tone surprisingly pragmatic. “The Wanderer Groups are formidable. I believe we’ll prevail, but the battle will be brutal and nothing is guaranteed.”

 

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” Alam said, nodding in approval. “I thought you were just a ruthless general who throws soldiers into the fray. Now I see you’re more... pragmatic.”

 

Inat offered a small smile. “I understand the value of patience and strategy. I don’t waste my soldiers’ lives needlessly. There’s a game to be played in warfare, and I intend to play it wisely.”

 

“Well, it’s been an honor to talk and fight with you,” Alam said, standing to leave. “Farewell.”

 

Inat nodded, his expression once again stoic. “It has been an honor. Until we meet again—perhaps as allies, perhaps on the battlefield.”

 

As Alam stepped out of the prison, he felt a sudden warmth in his chest and turned to Fang, grasping her hand unexpectedly. She looked at him, her expression softening.

 

“Let’s stay like this for a while,” Alam murmured, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual bravado.

 

Fang smiled, amusement flickering in her eyes as she glanced down at their interlocked fingers. “Alright, but don’t keep me too long. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

 

Alam sighed deeply. “Let’s discuss this later. I’m... kind of tired.”

 

“Of course,” Fang replied, her face still gentle. She watched him with concern for a moment before glancing away, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

 

alam look at fang walk away. he then look at sky at window, and he mutter to himself “damn.. i miss eleanor”

 

 

 

The next day, Alam reached out to Nalin, inviting her to meet him at a hotel. When she responded, a gentle smile graced her face as she typed.

 

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the hotel you mentioned. What time should we meet?”

 

“At… hmm… faster is better,” Alam replied, eager to see her.

 

Nalin glanced at her watch. “Then let’s meet now! The longer we wait, the more we waste the day. Shall we?”

 

“Yes,” Alam agreed, his excitement palpable.

 

Once they arrived at the hotel, Nalin led him to a secluded table tucked away in a corner. The quiet atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling city outside. Her nerves were evident as she fidgeted slightly, unsure of how to navigate this more intimate setting.

“What do you think? Am I a bad person?” Alam asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Nalin blinked, then chuckled softly. “That’s quite the opening line. Are you fishing for compliments?” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “No, not at all. You’ve been… good to me. You care for me, protect me. A bad person wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah…” Alam murmured, then, with a completely straight face, curled up on the nearby bed. “Pat my head, please?”

Nalin stared at him for a moment, a mix of surprise and amusement on her face. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Alam deadpanned, his eyes twinkling.

Nalin laughed, shaking her head. She leaned over and gently patted his head. “Here you go… your royal head-patting session.”

“No… I mean pat my head,” Alam corrected, taking her hand and guiding it to the proper spot. “Like this.”

Surprise flickered across her face, followed by a wider smile. “Oh! I see. You want the full head-pat experience.” She began to pat his head more firmly, but still gently. “Is this better, your Majesty?”

“Ahh…” Alam sighed dramatically. “Much better. I feel… soothed. Like a well-groomed house cat.”

“Are you happy now? Do you like it when I pat your head?” Nalin asked, her voice light and teasing.

“It’s… therapeutic,” he replied, his eyes half-closed. “Like a tiny, repetitive massage for my skull.”

Nalin laughed, continuing the gentle pats. After a moment, Alam reached out and gently took her hand, pulling her down to sit beside him on the bed. “We’re just cuddling… nothing scandalous is happening,”

“Yes,” Alam confirmed, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

 

As Nalin nestled against him, she felt a gentle kiss on her forehead, causing her to lean in even more. “Do you like it when I cling to you like this?” she whispered.

 

“I like being seen as a peaceful figure,” Alam replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“I’ll try to be peaceful for you,” Nalin promised softly, her head resting on his shoulder. “I won’t hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I promise.”

 

“Ahh… you…” Alam began, shifting the conversation. “So, there’s a school in this city. Do you want to try joining high school?”

 

Nalin blinked, surprised. “You mean like… adult high school?”

 

“Hmm? Hehe, I know you’re mature beyond your years, but it’s normal for someone your age to join high school,” Alam explained.

 

“Hmm… I can’t deny that,” Nalin said, her expression thoughtful. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t seem weird. I’m an adult now, after all.”

 

“Well, maybe you’ll find friends your age there,” Alam suggested, hopeful.

 

Her eyes lit up at the thought. “You’re right! It’s been so long since I’ve had friends. You’re the only one I talk to!”

 

“Good,” Alam said, nodding. “So…”

 

Nalin sat on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap, waiting for him to decide when they would check if the school accepted adult students.

 

“I… I…” Alam hesitated, struggling to find the words.

 

Nalin noticed his silence and sat up straighter, looking directly into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Never mind… Oh! Let’s go shopping for your school necessities,” he said, changing the subject.

 

The prospect of shopping ignited excitement in Nalin. “Oh, I love shopping! What do we need?”

 

“Writing books, pencils, pens… and ammo. RPG rounds… and arrows, heh,” Alam joked with a playful grin.

 

Her eyes widened in concern. “Wait, do we really need those? Isn’t it dangerous to fire those in a building?”

 

Alam burst into laughter. “Just kidding! We don’t need military equipment. Just the usual school stuff.”

 

Nalin sighed in relief, her initial worry melting away. “Oh good! You had me worried there for a moment. If it’s just books and supplies, shopping will be a breeze!”

 

“Yes,” Alam agreed. “But I’m a bit concerned about your bear,. Do you think he’ll be sad when you leave the taiga?”

 

Nalin’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Oh no… I didn’t think of that. he might get lonely without me around. He’s used to having me by his side.”

 

“I see,” Alam said, patting her head gently, a genuine smile on his face. “Well, anyway, let’s go shopping, shall we?”

And with that, they set off, hand in hand, ready to embrace whatever shopping adventures lay ahead.

Chapter 52 Facade

A day later, the majestic Qinling Mountains loomed in the distance, their snow-capped peaks piercing the clear blue sky. While winter had fully embraced the north, Xi’an lingered in the bittersweet transition between autumn and winter, the leaves still clinging to their vibrant hues.

Alam stepped onto the balcony of the Wanderer Base early that morning, the crisp air filling his lungs as the sun began to rise, casting golden rays across the tranquil landscape. The fresh scent of autumn leaves lingered, a reminder of the seasonal change.

“Hello there,” came a soft voice behind him.

Alam turned to see Fang approaching, her movements silent and graceful, like a whisper on the wind. “Good morning, Alam. It is a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Alam hesitated, then took a sip of his coffee, feeling the warmth seep into him. “Can I ask you something?”

Fang nodded, her warm eyes encouraging him to continue.

“Do I… am I a warmonger?”

Fang took a moment, choosing her words carefully. “You are not a warmonger, Alam. You are a war leader, fighting for what you believe in. You’re not a ruthless warlord; you fight for a cause you believe in.”

“I see…” Alam sighed, contemplating her words. “You know, when I was stranded in the taiga, I noticed our confederacy has a bad reputation in some areas. We need to do something about it, especially as the war drags on.”

Fang’s expression shifted to one of understanding. “It’s true our confederacy isn’t always viewed positively. Many see us as bloodthirsty conquerors, oblivious to the consequences of our actions. But we must consider the perspectives of those who’ve lived under our rule. Many have seen an increase in their standard of living and a more secure social system since we took control.”

“Yeah, I know it sounds cliché, but we must exploit that,” Alam replied, a spark of determination igniting within him. “We need to show them our transformation, put on a propaganda show. And we should play rough—exploit the injustices in Red Nation culture and their segregation. That’ll make the Blood Khaganate soldiers start questioning their overlords.”

“Agreed,” Fang said, her eyes brightening. “We must use propaganda to our advantage. Highlighting our positive changes will soften public perception. We can expose the Red Nation's shortcomings and create dissent among their ranks, weakening their grip and creating fertile ground for our advancement.”

“Good. Do it then,” Alam instructed, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“I’ll prioritize it, Alam. I’ll ensure our propaganda machine runs at full speed, showcasing our strengths while highlighting the Red Nation’s weaknesses.”

“By the way, what did you think about Inat yesterday?” Alam asked, shifting the topic.

“Yesterday's conversation was enlightening,” Fang replied thoughtfully. “It was interesting to see his perspective on war and the Red Nation's chances of victory. There was a hint of sadness when he spoke of his country and army.”

“True. And about our rumor plan—I gained more insight into the Blood Khaganate from him. But before we make a move, I want to meet our second Blood Khaganate general, Qilong, who’s currently our prisoner.”

“I see. But what do you hope to gain by meeting her?” Fang asked, curiosity piqued.

“Ha! You’ll see. Let’s go meet her in the prison.”

“Very well, then,” Fang replied, intrigued. “I’m curious about what you have in mind.”

 

As they approached the heavily guarded prison, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Wanderer soldiers stood ramrod straight, weapons gleaming. The iron gates looked like they could withstand a siege (or at least a very determined toddler).

Alam nodded to the guards, who escorted them inside. Qilong’s cell was near Inat’s, close enough for them to swap war stories over the prison’s surprisingly thin walls.

Inside, Qilong sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, like she was waiting for afternoon tea. Her face was a mask of indifference, but her eyes held a glint that suggested she could probably field-strip a rifle blindfolded while reciting poetry.

“Hello. Do you remember me?” Alam asked, plopping into the chair opposite her.

“Yes, I remember you,” Qilong replied, her voice as dry as a desert wind. “You’re the one who keeps interrupting my retirement.”

“Good. I’m here about your possible release. The Red Army’s having a bit of a… chilly time in the steppes. I might arrange a parley.”

Qilong raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “A parley? How… charming. I assume you don’t expect me to knit you a peace treaty?”

“Depends. Can you knit?” Alam grinned. “Anyway, if we do this parley thing, I’d be willing to… you know… let you out.”

“Let me make something clear,” Qilong said, her voice dropping a few degrees. “I will not be anyone’s puppet. I negotiate on my terms.”

“Fair enough. Hey, just out of curiosity, are you older than Inat?” Alam asked, leaning forward conspiratorially. “He strikes me as the type who peaked in his twenties.”

Qilong scoffed. “Inat is a child. I’ve been fighting wars since he was still playing with toy soldiers—made of actual lead, back in my day.”

“I see. And yet, I’ve technically defeated both of you,” Alam said with a playful shrug.

“Luck,” Qilong retorted. “Pure, unadulterated luck. Give me a proper army, and I’ll show you what real strategy looks like.”

“Speaking of strategy, Inat mentioned General Wu. What was he like?”

At Wu’s name, a flicker of something that might have been sadness crossed Qilong’s face. “Wu was… a force of nature. A brilliant strategist. And a terrible cook. His camp stew could strip paint.”

 “And what led to his demise?” Alam pressed, keen to unravel the layers of her thoughts.

“His downfall came from betrayal, committed by one of his advisors. A tragic end for a great leader. It serves as a lesson to us—to remain vigilant and never trust blindly,” she explained, her tone somber.

“Classic—betrayed by a friend. But what caused that betrayal? Pride? Greed? Envy?” Alam asked, his curiosity unabated.

“A mix of all three. The traitor envied Wu's fame and influence, driven by greed and ambition, believing he deserved Wu's position. His pride blinded him to the consequences of his actions,” Qilong replied, her voice steady.

“I notice the cultures of the Blood Khaganate and the Red Nation differ. It seems to me the Blood Khaganate acts as the Red Nation’s strike dog. Am I wrong?”

“You are partially correct. The Blood Khaganate has been a loyal ally to the Red Nation, but we are culturally distinct. We value strength, loyalty, and courage above all else, while the Red Nation is more technologically advanced,” she explained.

Alam paused, contemplating her words. “So, those who betrayed General Wu are still around?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The traitors remain among the top officials of the Red Nation—powerful figures known for their treachery,” Qilong said, sadness creeping into her tone.

“Is Zion among them?” Alam asked, his interest piqued.

“Yes,” Qilong confirmed. “General Zion is one of those responsible for Wu’s demise—a cunning and ruthless individual.”

“Do you remain loyal to Zion?” Alam pressed.

“No. I owe him no loyalty. We may be allies, but I do not trust him,” she replied, a hint of bitterness in her eyes.

“Then why fight for him?” Alam challenged.

“I fight for the Red Nation, not for Zion. I have dedicated my life to my country and will defend it at all costs,” Qilong stated firmly.

“Wanderers were once vassals to Zion’s interests. But we are not slaves; we are free men. That’s why I rebelled. You should know that the main goal of forming the Wanderers and the Blood Khaganate was to pave the way for Zion to conquer Europe.”

Qilong regarded him with skepticism. “I understand the history, but it was a necessary alliance that laid the foundation for our growth.”

“So, you’re okay with Zion’s future conquest of Europe? That would lead to a fourth world war,” Alam warned.

“Zion’s ambitions are indeed a threat, but you must realize that the Wanderers and their allies are also powerful enough to defend against him,” she replied, her tone sharp.

“Ah, so you’re willing to let my Wanderers die first. My gut feeling was right; my rebellion is justified,” Alam retorted, his voice rising.

“Your rebellion is misguided. You claim to fight for freedom, but all you’ve done is bring death and destruction. The true villains are the Wanderers, who only seek to create chaos,” Qilong shot back.

Alam chuckled darkly. “Well, the war isn’t over yet. I’d rather die facing bullets than let the enemy come kill me.”

Qilong sat across from Alam, her expression calm and unreadable, like the surface of a still lake. “If you insist on dying on the battlefield, then you will be granted your wish,” she began, her voice low and measured. “But let me ask you this: what good can come of it? Why waste your life on a pointless rebellion when you and your wanderers could find peace with the Red Nation? Why die for a hopeless cause?”

“It’s not pointless, and it’s not hopeless,” Alam replied, his conviction growing stronger with each word. “Every breath is a chance. They’re using the Wanderers as scapegoats, and I will show the world the truth.”

Qilong remained silent for a moment, her gaze unwavering as she contemplated his words. Leaning back slightly, she replied, “I understand your conviction. You believe in your cause, but I think you’re mistaken. The Wanderer Rebellion is indeed futile, and your efforts will only lead to more chaos and bloodshed.”

Alam smirked, leaning forward. “But I’m the one making things happen faster. Without my rebellion, perhaps you would be the one creating chaos in this region. Am I right?”

Qilong frowned, her tone sharpening. “You assume too much. Your rebellion has already caused significant harm. You think yourself a hero, but you’re just a foolish idealist, blinded by your own convictions.”

“Ha! The dice have been thrown. Want to make a bet? I’ll force Zion to the negotiating table,” Alam challenged, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“A foolish bet,” Qilong scoffed. “Zion doesn’t negotiate. It’s domination or annihilation. You’ll learn that eventually, child.”

“You still don’t see my last trick,” Alam teased, his confidence unwavering.

Qilong narrowed her eyes, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Your last trick? You’re intriguing, I’ll give you that. What’s your plan?”

With a flourish, Alam raised his hand, revealing a small recorder. “I’ve recorded both your and Inat’s conversations with me. This will be a game changer at the next conference.”

Qilong’s expression darkened, contempt flashing in her eyes. “And how do you intend to use these recordings? You think revealing our dialogue will sway the world’s opinion in favor of the Wanderers? If you believe that, you’re even more naive than I thought.”

“Don’t judge merely by the surface. It’s not over yet, but I won’t spoil it. I’ll give your mind a chance to wonder,” Alam replied cryptically.

Qilong’s gaze remained intense, her expression stern. “You are ambitious and cunning, but your plan is still a mystery. I’m curious about your intentions with those recordings.”

“Yes, well, thanks for your time. Farewell… woman,” Alam said, standing to leave.

“Farewell, child,” Qilong retorted, her chin raised in a scornful dismissal.

 

As Alam exited the chamber alongside Fang, he turned to her. “So, what do you think of that woman?”

“She’s cold and aloof, like most Red Nation commanders,” Fang replied, her voice thoughtful. “Sharp and analytical, a formidable opponent. But she’s also arrogant and condescending, with a clear disdain for the Wanderers.”

“Yeah, that’s normal. Serve her something fine for today,” Alam said with a chuckle. “Anyway, do you have a better understanding of our opponent, Zion?”

“Yes, much better now. Zion is dangerous and cunning, a tyrant with limitless hunger for power. He’ll do whatever it takes to achieve his goals, no matter the cost. We must be cautious and prepared for anything,” Fang warned.

“Exactly. His throne is illegitimate,” Alam added, a smirk playing on his lips.

Fang’s eyes widened in realization. “Ah, I see. His reign is indeed questionable; he seized power through a coup and tightened his grip with an iron fist. His rule has led to oppression and suffering.”

“Exactly! We’ll use that spicy detail for our rumor project,” Alam declared, excitement bubbling within him.

“But how do we spread the word about his illegitimate rule without revealing our hand? We don’t want our plans to backfire,” Fang cautioned.

“The rumor might be less effective in Red Nation territory, but it could work in Blood Khaganate circles. If Qilong’s voice indicates she’s not loyal to Zion, it’ll make other officers think twice,” Alam strategized.

“Right! That could sow doubt among the ruling elites and even lead them to question their loyalty to Zion. It might cause some to break away,” Fang noted, her enthusiasm growing.

“But it’s risky,” Alam warned. “We have to be careful, especially without knowing how the Red Nation will react.”

“I know. This rumor will strike hard if their morale is low, especially after we crush their army in the steppes. That’ll be the perfect time to spread it,” Alam concluded.

“Timing is crucial,” Fang agreed. “We can’t underestimate how important it is to strike at the right moment for maximum impact.”

Chapter 53 Cold Blood

 

The Red Army was tired. Really tired. Winter had been brutal, and now they were finally marching back to Erdenet Base, hoping to find some rest. Every step was a struggle, their breath puffing out in white clouds. They were worried about ambushes, but they just wanted to get back to their friends.

Erdenet was covered in snow, a beautiful white city against a bright blue sky. The sun was out, but it didn't do much to warm them as they trudged through the snow.

Inside the base, Hazel found Patrick leaning against a wall, looking completely exhausted. He was staring off into space, like he was trying to solve the world's problems in his head.

“Hey,” Hazel said. “Heard the southern army took a beating. The rest of us got off easy.”

Patrick just nodded, still lost in thought.

“Seriously, take a break,” Hazel said, half-joking. “Those upgrades look like they’re really helping.”

“Yeah,” Patrick mumbled, still distracted. He seemed uneasy, like something was bothering him.

“Take care, man. The big boss is planning something to deal with the enemy’s hit-and-run attacks. We’re settling in for the winter,” Hazel said.

“Sure, but if the enemy’s going guerrilla, how do we fight back?” Patrick finally met Hazel’s gaze.

 

Hazel shrugged, thinking it over. “I heard General Sima wants to set up a new unit for night warfare. That could help us counter their moves.”

 

“Sounds smart,” Patrick said, his interest piqued. “A night unit could be a game changer.”

 

“Are you in?” Hazel asked, a playful challenge in her tone.

 

“Absolutely! This is my shot to prove myself,” Patrick said, excitement lighting up his face. He was ready to dive into the darkness and take on the enemy.

 

“Good luck, then,” Hazel said with a nod. “Can’t wait to see you make the enemy regret ever starting this war.”

 

Patrick grinned, his fighting spirit soaring. “I’ll make them pay for their mistakes.”

 

 

 

Later, in the workshop, Panji spotted Hazel and strolled over with a smile. “Hey, man! Glad you made it!”

 

“Good to see you too,” Hazel replied. “What’s your plan now? Joining the defense or volunteering for the counter unit?”

 

Panji thought for a moment. It was a choice between staying inside and potentially getting bored to death or going outside and potentially getting actually dead. Tough call. “I think I’ll go for the counter unit. It’s riskier, but it sounds way more rewarding.”

 

“Oh, you’ve got guts! You’re going to face a literal demon in the winter steppes,” Hazel teased, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah, but that’s the point! We’ve got to confront evil head-on. If we don’t, we’ll never take it down,” Panji replied, determination shining in his eyes.

 

“Good luck with that,” Hazel chuckled. “I’d rather hide behind the tanks. The middle and northern armies will keep pushing until we hit the Altai Mountains.”

 

Panji nodded, his mind racing. “I’ll need all the luck I can get, especially if we’re up against a literal demon. We need to hit their stronghold hard and fast.”

 

“Think their base is in the mountains?” Hazel asked, intrigued.

 

“Definitely. The demons have their fortress in the Altai Mountains, where they stash their supplies and plan their attacks. That’s where we need to strike to break their defenses,” Panji explained confidently.

 

Hazel frowned, recalling the demons’ odd behavior. “But it’s strange—they fought hard in the south but just let the northern and middle armies roll through without much resistance.”

 

Panji thought about it, realizing Hazel had a point. “Yeah, that is weird. I wonder what they’re up to.”

 

“Once we hit the Altai Mountains, the road to Europe will open up,” Hazel said, finishing her drink.

 

“Right. Getting to Europe is the goal,” Panji agreed, downing his drink in one gulp.

 

“Do you think once the True Horde is gone, the Red Army will turn its sights on Europe?” Hazel asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Panji chuckled, considering the question. “I mean, taking down the demons is priority number one, but once they’re out of the way, what’s stopping the Red Army from expanding? It could lead to World War IV.”

 

“Yikes,” Hazel said, glancing out at the endless snow.

 

“Yeah, but I believe in our army. We’re the force of justice. This war won’t be easy, but we’re ready. The supreme leader believes in us,” Yu chimed in, joining the conversation.

 

“True. But after this mission, I might think about retiring,” Hazel said casually, a hint of seriousness creeping in.

 

Yu frowned at that. “It’s too early to think about retirement! There’s too much at stake. After this war, we could see our living standards rise, maybe even get our own land.”

 

“I don’t care about status,” Hazel replied, smirking. “I was a gangster in Hong Kong. I learned the hard way that pleasure is... subjective.”

 

Yu laughed, her expression softening. “A gangster? You’re quite the character, my fellow tanker. Do you really want to go back to that life after the war?”

 

“Hey, if the True Horde is gone, I can take advantage of the situation. Flying Dragon 2.0 under my leadership sounds perfect,” Hazel mused, her eyes gleaming with ambition.

 

Yu took a sip from her drink, eyeing him with a mix of amusement and concern. “Just remember, life as a gangster doesn’t usually end well.”

 

“I have no regrets,” Hazel declared, fierce determination in her voice.

 

“Then let’s make sure we survive this war, and we’ll see what the future holds,” Yu replied, raising her drink in a toast to the uncertain path ahead.

 

With the Red Army marching steadily toward the Altai Mountains, the snow deepened. Yu furrowed her brow as she studied Hazel. “What are you thinking? Planning to become a gangster again after the war? But do you really think life can go back to normal? All the gangs will be gone, including the True Horde. I’m not sure Flying Dragon 2.0 can survive.”

 

“What do you mean? Are we supposed to live under Red Nation influence as criminals?” Hazel shot back, raising an eyebrow.

 

“That’s exactly it,” Yu replied, her tone serious. “Our commander has declared he’ll wipe out all criminal organizations post-war, including ours. The supreme leader wants to create a new nation free from corruption, where everyone is equal. No gangs allowed.”

 

“Funny, I heard North America’s Red Nation is implementing segregation and various gangs,” Hazel shot back with a smirk.

 

Yu chuckled. “Well, the North American Red Nation was established a long time ago. Yes, they have gangs, but it’s nothing compared to the chaos we have in Asia. Our gangs are steeped in murder, drugs, and trafficking. Over there? Not as dangerous. They’re more like a neighborhood watch gone wrong.”

 

“I see. I guess I’ll never understand until I see whole America with my own eyes,” Hazel mused,

 

Yu laughed, her eyes sparkling. “you will love to go to America after this war. to experience their culture, try their food, and meet their beautiful ai women.”

As November arrived, the Red Nation had consolidated its control over most of Mongol territory and the northern steppes. But a stalemate held along the China and Korean borders.

In Zion’s command center, he studied the map. “Good progress in the north, but this stalemate is unacceptable. We need to break it.”

A Red General spoke. “We control 70% of their territory. The south took heavy losses. Their last stand will be in the Altai Mountains.”

“Then we’ll crush them there,” Zion said. “But we can’t let them entrench themselves. We need to keep the pressure on.”

“Should we focus on Europe or the rebels first?” the General asked.

“The rebels are a thorn in our side. We deal with them first,” Zion decided. “But their mountain strongholds won’t be easy. We’ll need Sima’s new unit and the Strato Cannon.”

Suddenly, an officer rushed in. “Sir! A large force of tanks is approaching from the west! Golden Caravan markings! They’re heading to support the rebels!”

Zion’s eyes widened. “Golden Caravan? This changes everything. Where are they?”

“They’ve passed Istanbul, moving through Georgia, now in Bukhara. They’re clearly heading for Central Asia.”

“They can’t reach the rebels,” Zion said, his voice hardening. “We need to intercept them. What forces do we have available?”

“Some elite units in Russia, and scattered remnants of the Blood Khaganate,” the General replied. “But they’re isolated.”

Zion considered this. “We can’t let them link up. This is a priority. Contact the Emerald League in Persia. Offer them whatever they want. We need their mercenaries, their weapons. This alliance… it must be broken.”

 

In the heart of the tank workshop, Chrome's voice echoed through the clanging metal and hissing steam. "To be a hero, you must be looking for trouble," he said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and wisdom.

Panji, leaning against a stack of crates, smirked. "Do we just look like a tiny speck of dust in the universe?" he bantered back.

Chrome chuckled, his laughter bouncing off the steel walls. "Alright, smart ass, enough with the jokes. Why are you here? Why aren't you content with your current title?"

Panji stood up, his red shades glinting in the dim light. "I am the answer to all your prayers," he declared with a grin.

Chrome raised an eyebrow, his cape fluttering in the winter wind. "What the heck do you mean?"

"When Zion is gone, I will become the ruler of the free world and stop the war," Panji said, his grin widening.

Chrome's eyes widened in surprise. "Dang, boy, you've got big dreams, huh? All the Justice members are satisfied being petty lords overseas. Once a lowly gang member, now a ruler. But you, you've got big plans. You're going to die for sure."

Panji shrugged, his grin unwavering. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, nice new jaw."

Chrome rubbed his chin, the new skin smooth and seamless. "Ahh, this? Yeah, I'm now the ruler of the Eastern Realm. They had the tech to give me a new face."

Chrome then continue. "But Maybe. But even specks can cause avalanches." He finally looked up, his new jaw gleaming in the workshop light. "So, you're joining Sima's unit?"

"Someone has to deal with those demons," Panji said. "Besides… I have a score to settle."

Chrome nodded slowly, a serious look on his face. The news of the Golden Caravan’s approach had cast a long shadow over the base. This war was about to get a lot bigger.

Chapter 54 Dice has been thrown

 

Meanwhile, in the west, as the True Horde forces scattered across the steppes, they stumbled upon various hidden bunkers from the pre-war era. Many of these had been repurposed as bandit hideouts.

 

As Alam defeated the bandits, some of them chose to join his ranks, revealing the locations of particular bunkers populated solely by windup girls. Unlike ordinary windup girls, these had developed their own society and achieved a level of independence. Intrigued by this unique community, Alam decided to explore the fascinating site.

 

Navigating through the dimly lit subterranean city, Alam felt the air thick with the hum of machinery and the faint scent of oil. Flanked by his escort of infantry fighting vehicles (IFVs), he moved cautiously through the maze of concrete and shadows, his mind focused on gathering intel about the pre-war bunker facility.

 

As he rounded a corner, he spotted her—a doll with striking white hair, standing serenely beside the underground street.

 

“Hey, you have nice hair,” Alam said, breaking the silence.

 

The doll, Croque, turned to him, her expression calm yet curious. “Well, umm, thank you. What are you doing here?”

 

“I just want to ask you something. What’s the most vulnerable part of a tank?” Alam inquired, his tone casual but laced with urgency.

 

Croque tilted her head, considering his question. “Tanks have various weaknesses depending on their design. Generally, the tracks are vulnerable to attacks from below, and explosive force can damage them. Other weak points include the turret ring, the barrel of the main gun, and the engine compartment.”

 

Alam nodded, absorbing her insights as he contemplated the strategic implications of this newfound knowledge. “What happens if something gets stuck in the barrel when the tank is about to fire?”

 

“If you block the barrel of a tank's main gun, the explosion's energy gets redirected back inside the tank. This could damage the gun breech and possibly harm the crew. It would be catastrophic for the tank,” she explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

 

“Interesting,” Alam said with a smirk. “What if we mixed something like superglue with sticky mud and launched it into the barrel? Ridiculous, right? But would it work?”

 

Croque laughed lightly. “Actually, a mixture like that could be effective. If you can clog the barrel, it would prevent the tank from firing altogether. It sounds silly, but it could jam the gun.”

 

“Can you make that mud launcher?” Alam asked, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “I want to envision it as an anti-tank weapon!”

 

“Hmm, that’ll be tricky to design. Getting the mud mixture right is one thing; creating a reliable launcher is another. But sure, I think I can come up with a design,” Croque replied.

 

“I want to order a thousand of them,” Alam declared, his enthusiasm infectious.

 

Croque’s eyes widened in surprise, and she chuckled. “A thousand mud launchers? That’s quite the order! But if you’re serious, I can certainly design them. Of course, there will be a price.”

 

“Gold will do,” Alam said with a nod. “Just make sure to mix in some chemicals to improve the mud’s effectiveness.”

 

“A chemical-enhanced mud launcher? Now that’s an interesting concept,” Croque mused, taking her task seriously. “And gold? You know how to make a girl happy. But let’s make sure the design works before you hand over the payment.”

 

“Here’s my contact info, and here’s your first payment,” Alam said, handing her a gold coin and an ID card. “Call me when you have progress.”

 

Croque accepted the coin with a smile. “Thanks! I’ll get to work on the design and keep you updated.”

 

“Wait, you’re a woman?” Alam asked, taken aback by her appearance.

 

“Yes… is that a problem?” Croque replied, a hint of confusion in her voice.

 

Alam rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. “I just didn’t expect it. You look… hmm… a bit unnatural.”

 

Croque laughed lightly, unfazed. “I know I look different. I’m a Doll—an android created by Svarog Heavy Industries. We’re designed for labor, not socializing. Some find us unconventional.”

 

“Ah, Svarog? Aren’t they the same ones who made the Windup Girl?” Alam asked, intrigued.

 

“Yes, they’re a leading robotics company. The Windup Girl is from another company, but we’re all designed for industrial labor. Svarog has made incredible advancements in robotics,” Croque explained.

 

“Should I contact your ‘master’ first, or are you free to make decisions?” Alam inquired, curious.

 

Croque chuckled again. “I’m technically property of Svarog, but I have a degree of autonomy. My main duty is as a mechanical engineer, so my primary ‘master’ is my job.”

 

“I see. There’s so much to ask, but I’ll save it for later,” Alam said, sensing the need to focus.

 

“Anytime! I’m always up for questions, especially about mechanics. Now, let me start on that mud launcher design,” Croque replied, her enthusiasm palpable.

 

“Great. Farewell then. Call me soon,” Alam said as he turned to leave, returning to his IFV.

 

Croque waved goodbye, eager to begin her project.

 

 

As mid-November approached, the clash between the True Horde and the Red Army intensified. The True Horde hid in underground bunkers across the steppes, launching coordinated raids that severely disrupted the Red Army’s supply lines. Meanwhile, the Emerald League mercenaries agreed to intercept reinforcements from the Golden Caravan, but their efforts proved minimally effective. Many of the Golden Caravan’s tanks continued to reach the True Horde’s stronghold in the Altai Mountains.

In his command center in California, Zion stared intently at the map spread out before him. “It seems they’re preparing for a big offensive. We must reinforce our supply lines and be ready to counter any attack. The Emerald League must keep disrupting their reinforcements. We need all the help we can get to defeat these rebels.”

 

“Sir, we received a strange transmission from Xian. It’s from Alam, the leader of the True Horde rebels. He wants to talk,” a red officer reported.

 

Zion raised an eyebrow, surprised. “The leader of the True Horde rebels wants to talk? That’s unexpected. Put the transmission on speaker.”

 

“Hey, you have nice hair,” Alam greeted, his tone light.

 

“Thank you. I take pride in my hair; it’s a symbol of my rank and status. So, you’re Alam, the leader of the True Horde rebels?” Zion replied, amused.

 

“Yes… your former subordinate, I suppose,” Alam said.

 

Zion studied him through the monitor. “I see. You were my subordinate before the war broke out. It’s strange that now you’re leading a rebellion against me. What brought about this change?”

 

“Well, I know you’re planning to expand into Europe, and we Wanderers were your first line of attack in Carpathia. You would’ve thrown me to the wolves first, and I didn’t like that,” Alam explained.

 

Zion nodded slowly. “I understand. You felt I was going to use you as a scapegoat. I will admit, you were part of my initial invasion strategy, but now you’ve become my enemy. How do you justify that?”

 

“I have enough reasons to be a rebel. I want a truce. I’ll disband the True Horde Confederacy and limit it to economic purposes only. Just don’t point your big cannon at my city; it’s intimidating,” Alam proposed.

 

Zion considered this, a smile creeping onto his face. “A truce and limiting your rebellion to economic purposes… That’s tempting. It would remove a major obstacle and let me focus on the rebels in Central Asia. But I have one condition.”

 

“What’s that?” Alam asked, intrigued.

 

“You must stop raiding my supply lines and destroying my tanks. If you can agree to those conditions, I’ll consider your offer of truce,” Zion stated confidently.

 

“I accept to stop killing your men. Just that?” Alam replied, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Just that,” Zion confirmed. “You’ll stop attacking my supply lines and limit your rebellion. If you agree, your mercenaries and Wanderers will be free to do as they please, as long as they don’t participate in military action against me.”

 

“Really? You don’t want my head or something?” Alam asked, half-joking.

 

Zion chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want your head. You were just a subordinate. If you agree to my conditions, I won’t hold a grudge.”

 

“Seems weird, but I agree for now. Can I ask something?” Alam said.

 

“Go ahead,” Zion replied.

 

“What is this so-called Project Stratocannon?” Alam inquired.

 

Zion’s eyes gleamed with pride. “Project Stratocannon is my pet project—a superweapon I’ve been developing for years. It has the potential to devastate any enemy position and clear the way for my troops. It’s a secret, so I can’t share too many details, but I’m very proud of it.”

 

“Interesting… And I want my new holdings in Central China, Korea, Altai Mountains, the Black Sea, Caucasus, and Carpathia to remain under my control. We’ll also do a prisoner exchange, including your two Red Army generals,” Alam stated.

 

Zion paused, considering. “That’s a fair trade. I will allow your control over those territories and agree to a prisoner exchange. As I said, your mercenaries and Wanderers are free, as long as they don’t engage in military action against us.”

 

“Wow, you seem like a very agreeable man. What’s your plan?” Alam asked, a wary smile on his face.

 

Zion grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “My plan is to let you think I’ve accepted these terms and allow you to get comfortable. Once I sense you’ve let down

alam nodded “good luck with that” then the comm is turn off. and alam look at other monitor. showing zion location at the north america, “i got you” alam mutterhimself

Chapter 55 The Grid Colosseum

 

Later at the grid colosseum on los angles, Nara, the amazon pretorian of Zion, stepped into the arena with her trademark wicked smile. "Oh wow, long time no see, darling~" she greeted Frema, a woman in a suit with striking purple hair.

 

Frema grinned back, her voice dripping with nonchalance. "Hey, Nara! What are you up to?"

 

"Oh, you know how it is. Recruiting more gladiators, same old same old. But I always have time for you, darling~" Frema replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

Nara smirked and rolled her eyes playfully. "You're such a flatterer, you know that?"

 

"I can't help it when I'm around you. You just bring out the flirt in me," Frema teased, tilting her head with a playful eyebrow raise.

 

Nara chuckled, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "Typical Frema, always making the ladies swoon."

 

As the announcer began his speech, the giant monitor displayed the Grid Colosseum, filled with countless spectators eagerly awaiting the action. Frema glanced up, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Showtime, darling."

 

"You ready to put on a show for the folks?" Nara asked, stretching her arms above her head, her muscles straining under her gladiator attire, excitement glinting in her eyes.

 

"Always," Frema replied, cracking her knuckles with determination. "Let's give these spectators a show they won't forget~"

 

"I'm down for that, darling. Let's give them one hell of a performance," Nara said, flexing her muscles with a cocky smirk, the anticipation of the upcoming fight igniting a fire within her.

 

Frema watched as Nara walked into the arena, a mix of anticipation and excitement coursing through her veins. "Good luck out there, darling," she called softly, her voice tinged with worry.

 

"Don't you worry about me~" Nara replied, throwing a carefree wink over her shoulder as she strode confidently into the arena, her eyes scanning the stands for any signs of danger. The energy in the air was electric, and the audience's anticipation grew with each passing moment.

 

The announcer's voice boomed, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Grid Colosseum!" The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, echoing throughout the stadium.

 

"We have a special treat for you today! Our first contestant is none other than the legendary Nara!" the announcer continued, and the crowd went wild, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. Frema smirked, knowing her friend was more than capable of handling anything the Colosseum threw at her.

 

"And for this round, Nara will be competing in the Steel Pit!" the announcer declared, and the audience roared, sensing the brutal spectacle about to unfold.

 

Nara stepped to the center of the Steel Pit, her eyes locked on the surrounding cage that encircled the arena. The tension was palpable, and the audience could feel it in their bones as they waited for the action to begin.

 

As the sound of a horn echoed, signaling the start of the round, the audience fell silent. The seconds felt like minutes as the two opponents circled each other, studying each other's movements. Finally, Nara struck first, her fist flying toward her opponent's face in a powerful swing.

 

The impact sent her opponent stumbling backward, clutching their face in pain. "Too slow, sweetheart," she taunted, taking advantage of the opportunity and rushing forward to deliver another blow.

 

The tension built as Nara closed the distance, her muscles taut and her eyes focused. She followed up with a swift punch aimed straight at their stomach, then a knee to the face.

 

After easily defeating her first two opponents, a massive monster truck rolled into the arena, circling the area. Behind it, steel pipes dropped, creating potential weapons for future fights. Inside the truck was a giant man with tribal tattoos, taunting and screaming as he hit the gas and jumped toward Nara.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen! Let's greet our favorite warrior... the Ball Crusher! Fredrick!" the announcer shouted as the giant man flexed his muscles, ripping his t-shirt to reveal a steel implant on his chest.

 

The crowd cheered and applauded as Fredrick flexed, the air filled with excitement and anticipation. Nara smirked, her eyes glinting with determination as she sized up her new opponent. "Bring it on, big boy," she taunted, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.

 

The giant man smirked, his eyes fixed on Nara like a predator locking onto its prey. He circled her slowly, muscles rippling under his skin, exuding power and danger. Nara kept a close eye on him, calculating her next move. She had dealt with bigger opponents before, but this guy was in a league of his own.

 

"What's taking you so long, big boy? Don't tell me you're afraid?" Nara feigned a yawn, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

 

The man's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening at her taunt. He let out a deep growl and charged forward, his massive frame moving with surprising speed. Nara sprang into action, timing her dodge perfectly and sidestepping at the last second, allowing him to barrel past her.

 

The crowd gasped in surprise as Nara deftly dodged the giant man's charge. Frema smiled, impressed by her friend's quick reflexes and agility. The battle was just beginning, and Nara was ready to show everyone what she was made of.

 

Fredrick picked up an iron pipe and hurled it at Nara. She dodged just in time, the metal narrowly missing her head and sending a shockwave through her body.

 

"Damn, that was close!" she exclaimed, leaping back to create some distance between herself and the giant man, assessing the situation.

 

The crowd inhaled sharply, a wave of anticipation washing over them as Nara narrowly avoided Fredrick's attack. Frema bit her lip, her heart racing as she silently prayed for Nara's safety.

 

"You're gonna have to do better than that, big guy," Nara retorted, her tone dripping with confidence. She was a skilled fighter and refused to be intimidated. Taking a moment to analyze Fredrick's attack pattern, she prepared for his next move.

 

Fredrick growled in irritation, clearly annoyed by Nara's unwavering confidence. He swung the iron pipe again, this time in a wide arc, trying to catch her off guard.

 

Nara easily dodged the swing, her reflexes honed from countless battles. A grin spread across her face as adrenaline surged through her. "Is that all you got, big guy? I'm barely breaking a sweat here!"

 

The crowd cheered, clearly enjoying Nara's display of skill. Frema felt a pang of envy—she wished she could be as fearless and badass as her friend.

 

Fredrick gritted his teeth, his expression darkening at Nara's taunts. He charged again, swinging the iron pipe wildly, his movements growing more erratic and desperate.

 

Nara saw his frustration and exploited it, sidestepping his wild swings with ease. "You're getting sloppy, big boy," she taunted, her smirk widening as she watched him grow more enraged.

 

Dancing around his swings, Nara moved like a blur, toying with Fredrick and enjoying the power dynamic. "Come on, give me a challenge!" she laughed, her tone a mix of confidence and mockery.

 

But then Fredrick kicked up dust and swung the pipe, landing a solid hit on Nara's chest. The impact sent her flying a few meters back, but her gladiator bodysuit absorbed most of the blow.

 

"Oof! Damn, that was a good swing," she wheezed, feeling the sting of the hit.

 

The crowd gasped as Fredrick landed a solid blow. Frema gripped the railings, her heart racing as she watched Nara go down, silently praying for her friend's safety.

 

Fredrick grinned, satisfied with his hit, and moved toward Nara, his iron pipe ready for another strike. Nara groaned as she forced herself up, touching her bruised chest but relieved that nothing was broken. She glared at Fredrick, annoyance and determination etched on her face. Wiping a trickle of blood from her mouth, she smirked.

 

"Lucky shot, big boy. But I'm not done yet," she declared, rolling her shoulders and preparing for the next round.

 

The crowd watched with bated breath, their excitement reaching a peak as they sensed the fight was about to escalate.

 

Nara took her stance as Fredrick aimed another swing at her head. In a swift backflip, she dodged the attack and grabbed a nearby rock from the monster truck. She hurled it at him, but he blocked it effortlessly.

 

With a quick motion, Nara aimed for his jaw, landing a punch to his chest that struck his steel implant. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps as Nara turned the tables, showcasing her skill and agility.

 

"Damn, Nara's got some moves!" Frema exclaimed, her admiration evident.

 

But then Fredrick caught Nara in a crushing bear hug, lifting her off the ground. The crowd gasped in shock as Frema gripped the railing tighter, her heart racing as she watched her friend struggle.

 

"Ack! Let go... you big... oaf!" Nara gasped, fighting against the man's grip. She could feel her ribs protesting under the pressure, her lungs struggling for air.

 

"You're crushing me... you idiot..." she managed to say, clawing at his arms in a desperate attempt to escape.

 

Frema watched, her heart in her throat, urging Nara silently to break free. "Come on, Nara, get out of there!" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

 

Nara continued to struggle, her face turning red from the lack of oxygen. She could feel the man's grip tightening, but her determination burned bright. "Damn... big... guy... let... me go..." she gasped, refusing to give in.

Nara made a desperate move, spitting in the man's eyes. The crowd gasped, then erupted in cheers as he momentarily staggered, stunned by the unexpected attack. Seizing the opportunity, Nara slammed her head into his forehead, creating a loud thud that echoed through the arena.

 

"Aagh... damn!" she exclaimed, feeling the force reverberate through her skull. For a moment, the world went fuzzy, pain shooting through her head as the crowd roared with excitement.

 

Now locked in a brutal brawl, Nara and the man exchanged hit after hit. Their breathing was ragged, sweat mingling with bruises and cuts on their faces. But neither seemed to care about the pain; they kept attacking, fists flying faster and harder with each punch, kicks and knees striking at any opening. It was a raw, ugly fight, devoid of finesse or technique.

 

Nara finally landed a punch on the man's chest implant, causing it to malfunction. He staggered back, trembling and smoking from the electric shock.

 

"AAAGH! It hurts! Make it... stop!" he screamed, collapsing to the ground, convulsing and groaning in agony.

 

The announcer's voice boomed throughout the colosseum, adding to the drama. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation! The fight seems to be taking a dramatic turn!"

 

The crowd gasped and murmured, their eyes darting between the fallen man and Nara, anticipation building. As the man continued to convulse, the announcer's voice filled the arena again.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have a winner! Nara, the gladiator, has emerged victorious!"

 

Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd, some cheering for the fallen man, others for the victorious Nara. She took a moment to catch her breath, her chest heaving as she looked down at the man below her, feeling a mix of satisfaction and relief at her victory.

 

The sound of the crowd's cheers filled her ears like a sweet symphony. But her attention was immediately drawn to Frema, who watched with wide eyes, a mix of awe and pride on her face.

 

Frema saw the man's convulsions slow and finally stop, taking a moment to process what had just happened before breaking into a wide smile. "Gods, that was intense... you okay, Nara?"

 

She made her way toward the edge of the arena, worry still etched on her face as she looked up at her friend.

 

Nara wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth and grinned weakly. "I'm fine... just a few bruises and scratches. Nothing major," she replied, her voice a little raspy from the battle. Despite her nonchalance, there was a hint of exhaustion in her eyes.

Later, as Nara left the arena, the music for the next show began to play. She was taken to the med bay for treatment, and while there, she caught sight of the monitor displaying the announcer boasting about the impending World War IV, claiming the Red Nation would emerge victorious in the so-called holy war. The recruitment ads flashed across the screen, and Nara felt a wave of disgust wash over her.

 

"More propaganda..." she muttered, her voice dripping with skepticism.

 

Frema, watching the screens intently, frowned at the announcement. "Damn, I hate it when they start this nonsense. But hey, that's how it works."

 

Nara clenched her fists, anger and frustration bubbling inside her. "They always promise victory like it's some grand prize. But they never show the cost of war—the devastation and suffering..."

 

She shot a hard glance at Frema. "The lives and innocence lost... all for power and greed."

 

Just then, the med crew finished treating Nara with impressive speed, thanks to their advanced technology that dried her wounds quickly with laser devices. She watched in awe as the medics worked, feeling the pain and soreness fade away.

 

"This tech... it's amazing. It gets better and faster every year," she said, her eyes wide as she looked down at her nearly healed body.

 

Frema grinned, impressed. "You should see it on deeper wounds. They can regrow lost limbs and bring people back from the brink of death. It's almost like magic."

 

Nara's eyes widened in disbelief. "Seriously? They can regrow limbs? That's... insane!"

 

She glanced down at her healed body again, her mind racing with the implications of such technology. "It almost seems too good to be true. I've seen a lot of tech before, but this... it's like they're playing gods."

 

Frema nodded, a bitter edge to her voice. "That's exactly what they're doing. Playing gods, manipulating life and death. It sounds good in theory, but the reality is far more twisted. They do nothing without an agenda, and more often than not, it's self-serving or downright sinister."

 

She looked at the medics working on Nara, her expression hardening. "They have the power to do so much good, but most of the time, they choose not to. It's maddening..."

 

Nara stood up and put on her gladiator suit, which had been damaged in the earlier fight. She looked in the mirror, her mind swirling with mixed emotions.

Meanwhile, among the spectators in the Grid Colosseum, a Wanderer spy lurked in the shadows, eyes keenly scanning the arena. They were waiting for the perfect moment to make their move, ready to tip the scales in this chaotic game.

After the roar of the crowd subsided and the arena emptied, Nara returned to her duties as Zion's Amazonian Praetorian bodyguard. But the thrill of the fight, the fleeting sense of control, couldn't mask the underlying emptiness. Her days became a monotonous cycle: exercise, virtual world, repeat.

The virtual world was a common escape for Red Nation citizens, the closest thing to freedom they could afford. It was quick, simple, accessible—to those who could pay the price. Nara invested heavily, crafting avatars, becoming a hero in simulated adventures, even reliving her school days as a virtual gang member. Yet, none of it filled the void. In the cold light of reality, she remained a puppet, a feeling that clung to her like a second skin. Joining the Bastard Brigade, becoming a full-fledged soldier, felt like a step too far… for now. So, she remained a gladiator, a star in a spectacle, waiting for something to change.

One day, within the digital confines of a virtual paradise, Nara encountered Svat in his usual persona. “Hey, Svat. Long time no see. What you do now?” Nara spoke first, her avatar a graceful princess.

Svat, his avatar a burly humanoid bull, simply shrugged. “Ehh nothing. Just living.”

Nara chuckled. “Yeah. Of course. You lazy ass.”

Svat frowned, the expression somehow translating even through the bovine features of his avatar. “Don’t be like that. Everyone had own pace.”

Nara rolled her eyes. “Hah. Sure. Perhaps it’s because of your Khagan heritage, isn’t it? You guys just drunk, fight and fight. Hehe.”

Svat crossed his virtual arms. “It’s nothing to do with my heritage. That kinda racist, you know… thinking all same, just because some Khaganate soldier do warcrime is not like all of us warmonger.”

Nara feigned a yawn. “Sure… anyway. Let’s do something, Bull.”

Svat nodded. “That’s more like it.”

They dove into simulated racing games, then embarked on a virtual adventure reminiscent of classic Zelda games. After a while, Nara stretched her arms, her princess avatar mirroring the action. “Ahh. I think that’s that fun. But I must go… you know. I had a job.” Nara winked. “So I can’t just play all day.”

Svat brushed it off. “Sure, a job. Smashing people in the arena. See you later.”

Nara logged off, leaving Svat alone in the virtual paradise. He lingered for a moment, then, with a few keystrokes, transformed the idyllic landscape into a brutal battle server. The server's name materialized in bold letters: “Legacy of Genghis Khan.” Almost instantly, the virtual world filled with avatars of Blood Khaganate warriors, clad in simulated Mongol armor, their voices rising in a chorus of throat singing.