There was minimal conversation between the 1st and 2nd assault company. They had little time to ponder what awaited them in a matter of minutes.

Marching in silence, they winced occasionally as distant explosions echoed ahead, a reminder of the artillery flying overhead.

Their highest-ranking officer raised a clenched fist in the air, gesturing without a word or glance. All eyes turned to one another, following her command. This was what they had trained for.

Each soldier checked their rifles, sharpened their katanas, cleaned their armor, and, above all, prayed. They sought the protection of their creator, beseeching their deity to watch over them and grant them victory against the enemy. They yearned for survival to witness the promised day when the creator revealed their long-awaited sun.

Several minutes passed, the enemy's shelling relentless. Yet, they anticipated its cessation, knowing it would soon end. With a nod, every soldier raised their rifles, flamethrowers, shotguns, and other deadly firearms.

The officers gathered at the forefront of the battalion, led by their highest-ranking Major, accompanied by a First Lieutenant and a Captain. Although it seemed peculiar that ranks extended beyond Captain, considering their novice experience in warfare, they were chosen and personally trained by Meletia, the supreme soldier and the fire Acolytes' first spawn.

The remaining officers formed platoons, with four Second Lieutenants comprising a platoon of 40 Phoenix-class, 5 Eruption-class, and 5 Napalm-class firecrackers each. Another two Second Lieutenants formed platoons of 25 Methanol-class firecrackers, the stealthiest class tasked with flanking the first four platoons. The final platoon, led by a Captain, consisted of the remaining 30 Napalm-class firecrackers, the most adept in their element, tasked with eliminating any surviving enemies after the charge.

Accompanying them were the Fuji tanks, machines personally crafted by their creator. The four platoons at the forefront of the battle were invigorated, eager to witness the power and might of the Fuji tanks.

Though they felt a tinge of disappointment that the battle droids revealed at the gates would not join the fight, they understood the artillery had likely inflicted significant casualties on their ranks. Their charge would eliminate any survivors, and another platoon would clean up the aftermath.

Each platoon marched forward, leaving behind their auxiliaries, except for the water users. Some formalities were exchanged between the main fighting force and the auxiliaries before they were out of hearing range.

Once again, the solemn march resumed, anticipation palpable among the soldiers. As they neared the enemy, the explosions grew louder and brighter.

Some soldiers squinted to avoid being blinded by the sudden bursts of heavy artillery. The platoons split off, each heading to their assigned locations. Glancing sideways, they noticed the other battalion adopting a similar strategy.

Heartbeats pounded in their chests, audible even amidst the rain of death and shrapnel. Grips tightened around their firearms as a whirlwind of emotions clashed within their minds—fear, anger, and excitement.

Their heavy breaths created small plumes of air with each exhale, the bright explosions mere meters away. They were shaken and yet captivated by the strange allure of each explosion. It was as if the sun peeked through a keyhole, only to be covered by clouds carried by ever-changing winds.

Though their vision allowed them to see in the dark emptiness, it was as good as a moonlit night on a calm sea. They could make out their surroundings, but most of it remained a hundred shades darker than in the morning light.

Moon or cloud were unfamiliar concepts, known to them only through books and drunken ramblings of their companions.

Finally, the bombardment ceased, and with it, the dust settled, granting the enemy a momentary pause. But it lasted only briefly. Another volley followed, a requiem for the flesh creatures who had incurred the wrath of an ill-prepared enemy.

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Explosions filled the air, accompanied by high-pitched whistles, battle cries, and the sound of boots thundering across the battlefield. The red beasts turned their gaze toward the source of the noise, only to meet bullets piercing their carapaces and blades slashing their torsos and heads.

The surviving creatures roared in anger, attributing the deaths of their kin to the firecrackers. Without hesitation, they charged, initiating a brutal, one-sided melee in a growing inferno created by the firecrackers.

Blades clashed against chitinous armor, teeth and claws clashed with steel and flames, a battle between beasts and monsters, with neither side certain of their own identity.

To any observer witnessing the clash between the acolytes and the red beasts, it would appear as a glimpse into the depths of hellish carnage.

The Acolytes remained undeterred by the flames. Their armor, armaments, and biology were designed to withstand such conditions. To them, the flames were akin to a scorching midday sun in a desert. The same could not be said for the red beasts.

Their once-tough exoskeletons, among the sturdiest underground, now shredded like paper. The exoskeletons became their own worst enemy in the midst of the fiery battleground.

Flesh and organs cooked within, melting into unrecognizable slag. Even the mightiest among them fell as they were boiled alive within their own exoskeletons.

The Acolytes fought with swiftness and brutality, striking without technique, propelled solely by their eagerness to kill the enemy. Although they excelled in all aspects except numbers, many perished due to their own recklessness and overconfidence.

The melee persisted, neither side showing signs of exhaustion. Despite the red beasts' mounting casualties, more continued to charge into the fray, drawn to the flames like moths to a flame.

"Protect the Fuji tanks!" shouted a Captain. He tightened his grip on his katana's hilt as he charged toward a tank overwhelmed by the sea of red chitin.

Using a forearm-mounted box pistol, he shot down a beast approaching him, the bullet piercing its skull. A click followed as he released the empty 5-round magazine, swiftly replacing it with another from the forearm-mounted device. Sliding the box pistol across the side slit, the magazine was loaded.

He turned to his side, hearing the roar of another beast uncomfortably close. With a swift motion, he struck the creature with the butt of his blade before crushing it with his boot.

Surveying his surroundings, he witnessed his company, having dealt with their own enemies, charging toward the tank and a group of larger beasts.

Curiosity piqued, he wondered why the beasts persisted in attacking despite the engulfing flames. Halting his advance, he observed the battlefield.

Flames larger than their own tanks consumed the entire area, obscuring most of his vision. Enemies and allies alike turned to ash in the fiery inferno.

Though wearing a mask to filter the cascading ash, it was difficult to breathe, whether due to the smoke or his own exhaustion from the brutal melee.

Drawing a heavy breath, he rushed toward a squad of soldiers engaged in combat with one of the larger beasts. The creature batted a soldier away with its head while its hind leg crushed another's ribs.

The soldier whose legs were crushed struggled to unsheathe his tanto, fighting through the pain. The soldier managed to draw the blade and stabbed it into the beast's belly, piercing its chitinous armor and puncturing its organs. Swiftly shifting to a reverse grip, the soldier sliced across the creature's underbelly.

The beast roared in agony, thrashing about and inadvertently crushing the skull of its attacker. Consumed by red fury, it abandoned self-preservation and charged blindly into the group of soldiers.

The soldiers swiftly evaded the creature's charge, but it managed to snatch one of them in its jaws. With a snap, the soldier's arm was torn off, accompanied by screams of anguish. The beast turned its attention to the cowering soldier, preparing to finish her off.

The soldier scanned her surroundings, finding her squad retreating to regroup with other soldiers as the beast advanced, overpowering them despite the ongoing inferno.

Just as the soldier braced herself for her impending fate, she witnessed her company's captain impale the dying beast's carapace, scaling its back. A defiant roar reverberated through the air as the beast attempted to shake off the captain, who clung stubbornly.

As the light faded from the creature's eyes, its lifeless body collapsed to the ground. The captain glanced toward the wounded soldier, who was cauterizing her wound.

Removing his blade from the fallen beast, the captain surveyed the battlefield, firing a flare high into the sky. The flare exploded into a blinding flash, momentarily overpowering the inferno's glow. In mere seconds, whistling sounds filled the air, followed by explosions that rocked the battlefield, claiming the lives of both his soldiers and the beasts. Not that many soldiers remained to begin with.

Throughout the hour-long melee, their entire battalion suffered countless casualties. His own platoon dwindled to a mere ten soldiers, a fate shared by the other captains. Their expectations of a swift and easy battle were shattered as they realized the beasts cared not for their own lives.

Their lines had been stretched thin due to their own folly, allowing the beasts to pick them off one by one. Observing the situation, the captain spotted a tank retreating toward his position, accompanied by a platoon of soldiers.

The enemy seemed surprised by the bombardment, as not a single beast pursued the retreating soldiers. Uncertainty and hesitation clouded the faces of the soldiers as they gathered around the captain.

"Sir, we must retreat! Their numbers are overwhelming!" a soldier shouted, supported by another nodding in agreement.

"I'm afraid we cannot," the captain responded. "With the ongoing bombardment and the beasts' superior speed, retreating would only delay our inevitable demise." The platoon erupted into a mix of anger and curses directed at the captain. Some even threatened to kill him themselves.

"ENOUGH!" the captain bellowed, silencing the commotion. "I understand your anger, but let me remind you who we are!"

"We are the soldiers of the creator! The bastion of light against the encroaching darkness!" He paused, his gaze sweeping across the now hushed crowd of soldiers.

"We are firecrackers, the Creator's spear! Raise your blades and point them outward, for we shall drive away the darkness and protect the Creator's light!" he declared, raising his blade high for all to see.

"Hoorah!" the soldiers shouted in unison, following their captain's lead. They shared their remaining magazines with one another.

The captain counted the dwindling supply of ammunition in the compartment attached to his wrist, furrowing his brow as he realized he had only one magazine left. Nevertheless, he strengthened his resolve and tightened his grip on his blade's hilt. As the first wave of enemies emerged, the captain pointed his blade toward the blazing battlefield and let out a defiant war cry.

"IN THE FLAMES OF BATTLE, WE SHALL DIE IN GLORY!"