YEAR: 1724. NOVEMBER 21TH. LOCATION: GENERAL KHILE’S TENT IN FORT STONEBRIDGE

“T-t-t-t-t-the Storm Crusaders have been d-d-d-d-d-defeated?” General Khile stammered, his voice cracking with disbelief. The man who was known for his composed demeanor now trembled visibly, the report in his hands shaking as though it bore a death sentence.

It had been weeks since the Storm Crusaders’ dfeat. Messages sent by wind birds had been shot down by Shiena's forces. The news finally arrived not through letters but through the sole survivor, a messenger who had taken a long route to avoid detection. Out of twenty dispatched, only one had lived to deliver the report.

“Yes, General,” Colonel Elten said, his face pale as if he’d just seen a ghost. “According to the survivor, after taking heavy losses, the Crusaders decided to retreat. They deemed continuing the campaign impossible.”

“Those fools!” Khile exploded, slamming the table so hard it rattled. “Do they even understand what this means?!”

Khile had bet everything on Commander Otis. Otis was a man of genius, a swordsman feared across the Empire. Khile had confidently sent his most of his forces to secure victory on the front line, leaving the rear completely unguarded. Now, the defeat had flipped the board.

The unthinkable had happened. The Storm Crusaders, an elite force, the pride of the Empire, had been beaten. To make it worse, reports said Shiena’s 9th Corps reinforcements were marching in, fresh and mostly unharmed.

“This is madness,” Khile muttered, pacing back and forth. “We don’t even have time to fortify the rear. And even if we do, could we stop them?”

It wasn’t just the loss that stung. The report mentioned suicidal bombing tactics and, most alarmingly, the infamous Silver Angel.

Otis himself had been injured in one-on-one combat with this Silver Angel. The man who was supposed to be untouchable, an unstoppable force of nature, had not only been wounded but had his tactics turned against him.

“If Otis couldn’t win,” Khile murmured, clutching his head, “what hope do we have?”

The room was quiet save for the ticking of a clock. For the first time, Khile felt the cold sting of doubt. The Empire’s once-unstoppable momentum had hit a wall, literally, in the form of the Silver Angel.

“How many forces can we move in this situation?” Khile asked, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Elten like a predator sizing up prey.

Elten gulped, standing stiffly under the intensity of Khile’s glare. “The forces we could mobilize include the 1st, 2nd, and 5th from the 11th Division, as well as the 5th, 6th, and 12th from the 12th Legion.”

Khile’s lip curled into a snarl. “Send all available units from the 11th Division. Make them into four divisions and deploy immediately. And remind them not to underestimate the enemy, or waste time competing with each other.”

Elten hesitated, shifting on his feet. “But, Lord Khile, if we deploy all four divisions, it will leave wide gaps in the front line. I would suggest we deploy the remnants of the 11th and 12th Divisions, now under Major General Aylsia’s command. They number roughly 15,000 troops.”

Khile’s face twisted with frustration, veins bulging at his temples. “Fifteen thousand,” he muttered bitterly, slamming his fist on the table. “And they call this a Division.”

Elten glanced at his superior nervously. “It’s not ideal, but Major General Aylsia is capable. If anyone can hold the line with limited forces, it’s her.”

Khile scowled, the room falling into tense silence as he mulled over his options. “Fine,” he said at last, his voice low and menacing. “Send the orders. But tell Aylsia that failure is not an option.”

“Yes, my lord,” Elten replied, bowing before quickly leaving the room, eager to escape the suffocating weight of Khile’s fury.

As the door closed, Khile sank into his chair, gripping the armrests tightly.

“They’ve turned this campaign into a damned mess,” he muttered. “If this Silver Angel thinks they can humiliate the Empire, they’ll learn what happens when the lion bares its fangs.”

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[(0)]

I felt a weird twitch in my ear, like someone was muttering curses about me.

“Are you alright, Major Aria?” Lura’s voice broke through my thoughts as she zoomed past me.

When I say zoomed, I mean it more like we were roller skating. After getting our hands on the MPA 63, we only had a short amount of time to practice with them. So, naturally, it was decided that 50 of us, Lura and I included, would get some practice on the way to the warzone.

Unlike the MPA 62, the MPA 63 required less mana to operate since it was built more for speed than power. Less mana meant we could skate around like we were back on Earth, saving on Mana Crystals in the process.

The downside? The terrain was terrible for skating. I was struggling to keep my balance, and everyone else was in the same boat. The only one gliding through the mess was Lura, who rode her MPA 63 like a roller-skating pro, even in the middle of a forest.

“I’m fine.” I scratched my ear, trying to shake the odd feeling. “Just feel like someone’s talking trash about me.”

We were on the southern part of the Eastern Line, moving quickly toward the northern side. Even though the MPA 63s weren’t exactly made for rough terrain, we were faster than the main force. Our mission was to scout ahead and cut the enemy’s supply line.

“Still,” I muttered, glancing at Lura, “I wish Dr. Felix had made these wheels a bit better suited for the terrain.”

Every now and then, someone would fall down, and the whole unit would come to a screeching halt to help them up. It took forever. Anyone who’s ridden roller skates knows how hard it is to get up without something to grab onto, especially when the whole group is a bunch of amateurs. Spoiler: the helpers sometimes ended up falling too, making the whole process even slower.

Thankfully, most of us now didn’t fall down, but I couldn’t say when we entered into a battle.

“We’re almost at Minor Fort Ack,” Lura reported, her voice calm despite the chaos ahead. “It’s a supply base, and the least guarded. There should only be about 100 soldiers on guard.”

“Perfect. We’ll use this as a practice ground.” I grinned. “Alright, you know the drill. Position to A!”

I never liked sticking to a rigid position in battle. Things never went as planned, and the battlefield was unpredictable. But with these MPA 63s, we had to have positions to avoid crashing into each other in case we all went tumbling during the battle.

We soon approached a clearing, and in the distance, a fort made entirely of wood appeared, its walls low and unimpressive.

“Enemies!” A soldier on the wall shouted, but I zoomed ahead of my unit, cutting through the air like a roller-skating whirlwind.

I drew my sword and readied an enchanted arrow in the other hand, feeling the rush of battle ahead.

When I reached the wall, I went straight for the two guards standing watch.

“What the hell—ARGH!” One of them shouted, trying to stab me with a spear, but I dodged by diving down and stabbing… between his leg. The MPA 63’s wheels kept me moving fast, even as I slid under the spear, narrowly missing a deadly jab.

With the wheel’s mana powered up, it practically glued itself to the ground like some kind of magic magnet. I didn’t have to worry about falling or losing speed, unless I tried to turn too sharply. The wheel kept me upright and moving faster than ever.

The other guard shouted in confusion, but before he could make sense of the situation, Lura was right behind me, gracefully cutting him down. It was like watching a dancer, the way her sword moved, smooth, swift, and deadly.

I shot through the fort’s gate, pulled my enchanted arrow from my quiver, and launched it into the heart of the fort. Fire exploded from the spot, quickly spreading in all directions.

“Fire!” I heard a frantic shout from inside the fort. “Put it out!”

“Close the gate!” More voices joined in the chaos.

I slashed my sword, Windwhisper, summoning a gust of wind to fan the flames even higher. The gate caught fire quickly, and I pulled back, revving up for another round.

“Lura!” I called.

Without missing a beat, Lura spread her arms wide, and the flames around a small hole in the gate seemed to hold steady. This was exactly what I’d been waiting for. I pushed my sword through the gap, widening it, and then I surged forward, blasting through the gate with my unit right behind me.

Shouts and screams filled the air as Imperial soldiers scrambled in all directions, trying to regroup.

“Kill them!” one soldier yelled, but another quickly responded, “We can’t! They’re too fast!”

I zoomed around the fort, my MPA 63 practically gliding across the ground as I took down every soldier I crossed paths with. One soldier tried to slash at me, but I sidestepped with a smirk. I then kicked my left leg sideways, and the wheel slammed into the soldier’s head with a sickening thud.

“AHHHHHH!” The soldier screamed, and his head was practically cut in half from the impact.

I blinked. “Well... that’s one way to do it.”

“This thing also can be used as a weapon?” I muttered to myself, already moving on to the next target.

“This might just be the best weapon ever,” I chuckled, speeding through the chaos. “Dr. Felix, you absolute genius!”

Seriously, I might’ve hugged him if he weren’t such a weird guy. But hey, weird or not, the man knew how to make a weapon.