On the coalition side, the combined forces of the Crescent Alliance and allied nations, soldiers from diverse backgrounds and cultures huddled together...

“We found American food!” one soldier exclaimed, proudly holding up a large pot.

“American food?” another asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Yeah! We found a American gladiator, and we cooked him,” he explained with a grin.

Alam, witnessing this bizarre scene, simply shook his head and strolled away, choosing to ignore the coalition soldiers' antics. He made his way to his war tent, reminding himself that despite their cannibalistic tendencies, the important thing was that morale was high.

Once inside, Alam removed his mask after inspecting the coalition soldiers. He took a seat at his desk, tapping his lips thoughtfully. “What do you think, guys? I feel a bit paranoid about our gains. It’s like we’re waiting for a surprise party that nobody wants to attend,” he mused, glancing around at his generals.

The generals exchanged uneasy glances, as if they were all in on a joke that Alam had missed. “Yeah, it’s suspicious. We’ve taken three Zion bases without much resistance. It’s like they rolled out the red carpet for us,” one general from the Golden Caravan remarked, scratching his head as if trying to figure out how to fold a fitted sheet.

Nkosi chimed in, “It’s definitely odd. They usually put up a fight. We should prepare for an ambush. Better safe than sorry!”

Alam nodded. “Right. Let’s split our forces. I’ll keep the pressure on while you guys guard our flanks. History shows that conquerors often trip over their own feet when they get too timid.” He gestured dramatically, as if directing a play about the perils of overconfidence.

Nkosi considered this, her brow furrowing. “Splitting our forces could work. We keep them engaged while staying alert for any surprises. It’s a gamble, but a smart one.”

“Exactly! And so far, no reinforcements from their side. They must be waiting for the right moment to strike,” Alam replied, a glint of determination in his eyes.

“Let’s keep the Crescent Alliance on defense while we push forward,” Nkosi suggested,

With the plan set, Alam turned to his generals. “Zhang, you secure my flank. Xiaoyin and the regulars, keep pushing. The Crescent Alliance will watch our backs. Victory is within reach!”

As they prepared to attack the next base, Alam couldn’t help but question the Zion strategy. “Why bother building so many bases if their defenses are weak? It’s like they’re inviting us in. ‘Welcome to our base! Please take a seat, and don’t mind the booby traps!’” He chuckled at the thought, imagining a Zion soldier offering him cookies while hiding a grenade behind his back.

With five out of eight Zion bases captured, the Wanderer Group was on the brink of victory. But Alam knew they had to stay sharp. “Alright, let’s keep the pressure on and take those remaining bases! No mercy!” He raised his fist in the air, looking like a motivational poster come to life.

The Wanderer Group kept pushing forward, closing in on the remaining three Zion strongholds. The Zion forces were on the back foot, and the Wanderers were determined to keep up the pressure. “We’re like a bad rash they can’t get rid of!” Alam joked, earning a few chuckles from his generals.

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The Wanderer Group and the Crescent Alliance troops saw how their bullet trap paid off. The Zion were using their own explosive bullets to kill their own men, which further reduced their force. “Talk about friendly fire!” one general quipped, shaking his head in disbelief.

The Zion soldiers were starting to fear shooting their own guns because the bullets might be planted with explosives. “It’s like a game of Russian roulette, but with more paperwork!” Alam laughed, picturing the Zion soldiers nervously glancing at their weapons like they were ticking time bombs.

Fear had started to grip the Zion soldiers, lowering the morale of the remaining forces. The Wanderer Group and the Crescent Alliance troops were determined to keep pushing forward to the final three Zion strongholds and finally complete their mission to liberate the region from Zion control. “Let’s show them that we’re not just here for the snacks!” Alam declared, rallying his troops with a grin.

Alam got the news that they’d stumbled upon a giant red chamber right in the middle of the base they just conquered. “What’s this? A giant red room? Sounds like a bad horror movie,” he thought. The Dragon Slayer division was on cleanup duty, checking for any leftover Zion forces, and they were the ones who found this mysterious chamber.

“Hey, Xiaoyi,” Alam called up the division commander. “You ever seen anything like this before?”

“Not a giant red chamber, no. This is a first for me,” Xiaoyi replied, looking just as puzzled.

“Alright, let’s not get distracted. We’ll figure out what this thing is after we finish cleaning up this base. Focus on securing the area!” Alam ordered, and Xiaoyi nodded like a bobblehead.

But just as they were getting ready to mop up, the red chamber decided to throw a surprise party of its own—BOOM! It exploded, sending a thick red mist wafting across the base. “Well, that’s not good,” Alam muttered, watching the chaos unfold.

“Pull out the soldiers now! It’s a trap!” he shouted, panic creeping into his voice. The Wanderer Group and the Crescent Alliance realized they were in deep trouble. They tried to contact the regular troops inside, but it was like trying to reach a friend who’s ghosting you. No response.

They sent in a spy drone to check things out, and what they saw was straight out of a horror flick: the regular soldiers were going berserk, turning on each other like it was a free-for-all at a buffet. “What the heck is in that mist?” Alam exclaimed, his eyes wide.

“Artillery strike! Now!” Nkosi yelled, her voice laced with urgency. “And tell them to aim for everything. If it moves, shoot it. If it doesn’t move, it’s probably a trap, so shoot it anyway.”

The order was given, and the sky opened up with a rain of destruction, obliterating everything in sight. “Talk about overkill!” Alam thought, watching the chaos unfold.

After the dust settled, they sent in a hazmat team to assess the damage. Survivors were still loopy from the red mist, and they had to wrangle a few of their crazed comrades for some serious investigation.

Back at the command center, Alam was trying to make sense of the situation. “Anyone seen anything like this before?” he asked, looking around.

Nkosi piped up, “Yeah, we’ve got two Zion bases left, and we’ve hit pause on our offensive. This red mist is spreading fast and turning our guys into berserkers. We need to figure out what’s going on before it gets worse.”

Alam turned to Khawlah, the Holy People’s Council rep. “I heard you guys have done some experiments in the past. Got anything that can help us?”

Khawlah nodded, looking serious. “We’ve got a biological and chemical agent that could counter the red mist. It’s a last-resort weapon, though.”

“Great, but let’s not go all-in on that just yet. If the Crescent Alliance wants to use it, don’t put my name on it,” Alam replied, feeling the weight of the decision.

“Agreed. We’ll only use it if absolutely necessary,” Nkosi confirmed.

With a heavy sigh, Alam said, “I’m pushing forward to capture all the bases in this region. The Zion forces are desperate and on the brink of defeat. I suggest the Crescent Alliance moves south to help the Emerald League. We need to split up.”

Nkosi nodded, “I’m on board. We should send some troops to assist the Emerald League while you finish up here.”

“Alright then, farewell,” Alam said, giving her a nod.

“Farewell, General Alam. May the Golden Caravan guide you,” Nkosi replied, a faint smile on her face.

As the Crescent Alliance officers packed up, Artak asked Nkosi, “Why aren’t you joining the others?”

“I can’t leave the Wanderer Group in this mess. They need my support,” she said, determination in her voice.

Artak frowned. “You don’t get it. Alam doesn’t trust you after you mentioned that weapon.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! The Wanderer Group needs me!” Nkosi shot back, her frustration bubbling over.

“Just saying, it’s a possibility,” Artak replied, shrugging.

Nkosi was taken aback, her heart racing with frustration. “Wait, what? You can’t be serious, Artak! The Wanderer Group needs me now more than ever! It’s ridiculous to think Alam would doubt me just because I mentioned a similar weapon. How can you even say that?”

Artak shrugged, looking a bit exasperated. “You still don’t get it? Just re-read Alam’s last message. Pay attention to his tone.”

Nkosi paused, chewing on his words. She went back over Alam’s message, and it hit her—he was definitely acting more cautious and less open than usual. “Okay, I see your point, Artak. His tone is different. I wonder what’s behind this change?”

“Who knows? But Alam’s got a point too. We need to back up the Emerald League. They’ve been taking hits from the Red Nation for way too long,” Artak replied, his expression serious.

Nkosi sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. “You’re right. The Emerald League really needs our help right now. I get why Alam wants to send troops south to help them push back against the Red Nation. Let’s get our troops ready to roll and support the Emerald League!”