“Thunderbolt Actual, this is Napoleon. Continue to maintain formation, over.”

“Napoleon, this is Thunderbolt Actual. Wilco, out.”

Colonel Marie lowered the device in her hand. Throughout the rather tiresome call, she had been surveying the entire battlefield. But if she was fatigued, she never showed it on her face.

“Same orders, ma’am?” Captain Aziz asked. The Thunderbolt squaddies had been raring to go for the past hour or so, but the infantry troops below them were moving and fighting with an efficiency and effectiveness that he’d never seen throughout the Second Extermination.

The three battalions were moving around in solid blocks of men. The first rank of each formation was carrying a man-sized shield, while the following ranks were holding on to a Straight Shot, a small buckler and a gladius. None of the battalions had chosen to meet the enemy formations head on — instead, they were moving around, trying to keep the hostile forces within optimal range of their Straight Shot.

It was an effective technique, and it was equally frustrating too for the enemy troops. Most of them were wearing random pieces of armour when the battle started, but over the course of what amounted to a live-fire exercise for the infantry troops, these pieces of armor had been destroyed.

And then the casualties began to roll in. On a battle of this scale, where around two thousand troops were pitted against each other, Camp Napoleon’s ability to inflict damage from afar began to pile up heavily. Even as Captain Aziz watched, an enemy formation, roughly the size of a friendly battalion, was destroyed as their opposing number spread out into a firing line.

The commander of that particular infantry troop had capitalised on the enemy’s collapsing morale and fatigue. By spreading out into a firing line, the commander sacrificed mobility and safety, so it was a tactic only used to launch a decisive strike.

It took a keen eye and a good understanding of your enemy to pinpoint the moment when fatigue set in, and Captain Aziz nodded in praise. “What do you think, colonel?”

“A masterful stroke.” A few hundred metres below Thunderbolt Platoon, the last men of the beleaguered battalion crumpled over as Aziz’s allies unleashed a second volley. Without wasting any time to gloat, the firing line reformed into a solid block again, and then moved to assist their fellows.

“The Vultures are truly skilled,” Marie murmured. “Of course, Major Gaelle always had a keen eye for strategy and observation.”

Her eyes lit up as the battlefield began to change. One of the enemy troop formations was beginning to flee from the battlefield, at the sight of their brother troop being besieged by the incoming Vultures. Marie took out the Radio artefact and spoke into it. “Napoleon, this is Thunderbolt Actual, over.”

“Thunderbolt Actual, this is Napoleon. Go ahead, over.”

“Tango Three is beginning to flee the battlefield. Requesting permission to pursue and harry, over.”

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There was a momentary pause. “Permission granted, Thunderbolt Actual. Napoleon wishes you a good hunt. Comms back when Tango Three is destroyed, over.”

“Wilco, out.”

She turned to face the bored members of Thunderbolt Platoon, and a ripple ran through the assembled teenagers. Their faces were clearly one that was starved of blood and death, and as Marie spoke to them, the bloodthirst only grew more pronounced.

“…to sum it up, we’ll be playing the role of a stonewall, a blocking force. Do not break formation or descend, however. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Colonel Marie nodded at Captain Aziz, and then streaked through the skies. Captain Aziz followed suit, and the rest of Thunderbolt Platoon a second later. The enemy battalion, designation Tango Three, was overtaken in a minute or so. Colonel Aziz began to direct fire, and the despairing troops of Tango Three began to break formation as the first volley claimed slightly less than forty lives.

It was a comparative drop in the bucket, given that Tango Three still had four hundred plus men when they began their retreat, but almost every member of Thunderbolt had struck a lethal blow to their targets. Breaking up their clustered formation revealed the death of their commander, but it wasn’t enough. After a second round of fire, the platoon broke up into their own firing line, forming a giant crescent that seemingly encapsulated the dispersed troops of Tango Three, and began to fire in earnest.

Captain Aziz saw a frown creep up on the colonel’s face, as a particularly resilient gaggle of enemy troops blocked the incoming shots with an artefact of their own. It was a Palisade, and it seemed that the people attempting to retreat using it were key leaders of Tango Three.

The air hummed as Colonel Marie drew a sigil slowly.

A few people, who were close enough to the colonel to see what she was doing, trembled at the sight of their platoon commander as the sigil floated over to the barrel of her Straight Shot.

Without much of a fuss, she pulled the trigger — and tens of icy spears blasted out from the sigil as it vanished. Each spear was around a metre long, arcing across the sky to batter on the barrier the Palisade artefact put up.

Aziz narrowed his eyes as the barrier finally shattered after blocking twenty of so spears. The Palisade was an artefact that could be used by anyone, but its defensive ability was astounding. As a one-use artefact, it was usually regarded as a life-saving item, especially since artificers didn’t build them often.

Her attack finally ended, and of the target the sigil was aimed at, only one person was still alive. The others had all perished, impaled by the icy spears, reminding Aziz of the tactics the Second Extermination employed. The icy spears that fell upon the beastfolk forces were far weaker, however. Apparently, the shooters used their own qi to create these spears, as though as they disdained artefacts or something.

Captain Aziz shook his head, and then killed the last member of that small group. Cries rang out across the battlefield — that person was clearly important — and Tango Three was crushed shortly afterwards without a commander to take the lead.

“Napoleon, this is Thunderbolt Actual, over.”

“Thunderbolt Actual, this is Napoleon. Go ahead, over.”

Marie looked at the corpses littering the fields of battle. “Tango Three has been completely destroyed. What are our next orders? Over.”

“Reorg, then. After that, RTB with the rest of the task force, over.”

“Wilco, out.”

She turned to the reassembled platoon, who were naturally unscathed, and barked out some orders. It wasn’t long before the infantry troops were in view, the men below them clearing up the battlefield and dragging the corpses away.

Captain Aziz rubbed his nose as he looked at the scene below. Some of the corpses were already stripped of their armour and weapons — a testament to the multiple logistical issues plaguing Camp Napoleon, given that it was traditional to treat the bodies of any fallen with respect by burying them with their items untouched — but culture gave way to contingencies, after all.

He shook his head as Thunderbolt Platoon touched down on the field headquarters.