Alam's forces advanced swiftly across the winter tundra towards Novosibirsk, their mobile cities providing essential shelter against the harsh elements. The Wanderer Group was well-prepared, having trained rigorously for winter combat, while air and naval patrols ensured no reinforcements could disrupt their advance.
"Very well. Execute the plan," Alam commanded as the multi-pronged assault on the Zion base commenced. Ground, air, and sabotage units coordinated their strikes, overwhelming Zion defenses and capturing key positions.
“Good. Their base has become their grave,” Alam declared, as the True Horde pushed deeper into the stronghold, the Dragon Slayer division leading the charge.
“Pull the Dragon Slayers back; let the regulars finish the mop-up,” he ordered, confident in their imminent victory.
With one base captured, seven remained. Alam prepared for a potential counterattack, fortifying positions and setting traps. He ordered flamethrower units to the underground tunnel entrances, anticipating Zion reinforcements.
“Wait for it... Now!” Alam commanded, unleashing a deadly combination of gas and fire that engulfed the tunnel, creating chaos among the approaching Zion forces.
“Good. Set traps and hidden cameras. We’ll abandon this base and let them think they’ve won,” Alam strategized, planning to lure the Zion into a false sense of security.
In just four days, the Wanderer Group had captured two bases, showcasing the effectiveness of the Dragon Slayer division. As Alam convened a war council, he outlined their next moves, deciding to attack one base in the west with full force while staging a diversion in the east.
“This campaign is moving faster than expected. We must take the initiative and strike hard,” he urged, rallying his commanders for the final push against the remaining Zion strongholds. Victory was within reach, and the True Horde was determined to seize it.
Alam leaned forward, eyes sharp. "So, how many casualties have we racked up?"
The war council quickly reported, displaying the figures on a holographic tactical display: "Wanderer Group: 2,058 confirmed KIA, 574 MIA, and an estimated 1,100 wounded requiring immediate medical attention. Zion: 2,287 confirmed KIA, 812 MIA, and an estimated 950 wounded." The numbers were telling; the Wanderers were inflicting damage while keeping their own losses relatively low.
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"Interesting," Alam mused, a smirk creeping onto his face. "The Zion forces are weakening. No more overwhelming numbers. Victory is within our grasp! Let’s keep the pressure on and take this region by New Year!"
Meanwhile, at Zion HQ in South Novosibirsk, Kassandra slammed her fist on the table, scattering holographic maps. "How is this possible?! They captured our stronghold in just four days! Where did their numbers come from?"
After a tense pause, she turned to Trickster, fury in her eyes. "Did you fake our troop numbers?!"
Trickster sighed, "We don’t have 16 million troops. We only have 6 million after the revolution. I inflated the numbers to boost morale for the Emerald League attack."
Zion's eyes widened at the revelation. "Only 6 million? This changes everything!"
Kassandra, furious, pulled her pistol and aimed it at Trickster's head. Zion's heart raced. "No!" he shouted, raising his hands in panic.
After a long pause, Kassandra slapped Trickster instead, holstering her gun. Zion let out a sigh of relief, but the tension lingered.
"Why are you so calm?" Kassandra demanded. "The Wraith campaign is a disaster! Our defenses are weak, and we’re on the verge of defeat!"
Zion remained composed. "A leader must stay focused. Panic won’t solve our problems. We need solutions."
Trickster interjected, shaking. "If we capture the Emerald League, we’ll secure the funds to continue! I’ve calculated it; we can win after taking their treasury!"
Kassandra nodded, "Then we must not fail in the next offensive. Zion, you need to lead our battered army to victory."
Zion contemplated the task ahead. It was do or die; they had to seize the Emerald League's treasure or face ruin.
"But first," Keith chimed in, "we need to get out of this region before the coalition encircles us."
Zion considered the implications. If the coalition surrounded them, it would spell disaster for their plans and the Red Nation's future.
Trickster leaned in, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Listen, I’ve deployed a game changer to hold Novosibirsk He revealed a monitor displaying a schematic of a specialized dispersal device connected to a network of underground pipes. The label read: “Project: Red Mist – Dispersal System v3.7. Payload: Aerosolized Neurotoxin Compound X-9.”
The room fell silent, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy in the air. On the monitor, the harsh winter brought a somewhat peaceful white feeling, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
Further south, on the island of Madagascar, Cecilia—a girl in a ballet dress with a bun in her blonde hair—was buzzing with excitement. She was about to perform her first-ever concert, a peace concert. Cecilia was an idol of love, a beacon of hope who believed in peace and tolerance. As she sang and danced, her heart swelled with joy.
Meanwhile, Khawlah, a woman from the Crescent Alliance, returned from her duty to report on the latest war progress. She whispered, keeping her tone low as she spoke to key officials while the concert was in full swing.
After the concert, Cecilia let out a satisfied sigh. She knew she had given it her all, and that felt good. After a quick refresh, she put on an advanced mask that transformed her appearance from a white blonde girl into someone with tanned skin and black hair. She slipped on gloves and leggings, completing her disguise.
With her new look, Cecilia blended in with the people of the White Nation without a hitch. In a world spiraling into war and chaos, she was determined to promote love and unity.
She settled into a local café, enjoying the moment until a military parade rolled down the streets of the Holy People Council. Her heart sank as she watched advanced tech designed for destruction being shipped overseas. The pristine white tanks, APCs, and mechs were not just ordinary military equipment; the White Nation was a master of camouflage technology from the pre-war era. These machines could blend into any environment they were deployed in.
Feeling powerless in the face of such overwhelming force, Cecilia was lost in thought until someone tapped her shoulder. It was her friends. They recognized her despite her disguise, thanks to the data chips connected to her persona. It was Cecilia's birthday, and they reminded her to enjoy it and pray for a better world. For now, she would hold onto hope amidst the turmoil.