Later, in mid-September 2404, near the Orkhon River, the frozen steppes of Mongolia stretched out like a vast, white canvas, dotted with rolling hills and the distant silhouettes of mountain peaks. The landscape was starkly beautiful, the snow-covered ground sparkling under the pale sun. Panji sat atop his tank, surveying the terrain with keen eyes, while nearby scouts moved swiftly, reporting their findings.

“Sir, no enemy spotted. We can use the Orkhon Bridge or build a pontoon bridge,” a scout reported.

“Pontoon bridge,” Panji commanded, a smile playing on his lips. “We don’t want our tanks taking an unscheduled bath. Do you think the enemy will attack mid-stream? It would be a rather damp way to die.” Like baptizing them in ice.

“Good choice, sir. I hope our 150-ton tank can handle this river,” the scout replied, glancing nervously at the icy waters. One good crack, and it's a metal coffin.

Unlike Hazel's Buffalo tanks, Panji's tanks were the latest version, boasting extended armor and larger calibers. However, it was still unclear which tank was superior; numbers on paper meant little. The true test of their capabilities would come in battle.

Panji watched the engineers work tirelessly, assembling the pontoon bridge over the frozen river. “I hope so, too,” he said, his smile unwavering.

“What’s on your mind, sir? You seem in a good mood,” the scout asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, our pontoon bridge is almost ready, and the enemy hasn’t attacked yet. I’m just hoping everything goes smoothly,” Panji replied, gesturing toward the bridge.

By the afternoon, the pontoon bridge was complete. Patrick approached, eyeing the structure. “It looks solid. Our troops can cross this river without issue. Do we wait until morning, or do we go now?”

“Now,” Panji decided, nodding firmly. “There’s no point in waiting.”

Patrick looked up at the yellowish sky. “Are you sure? It’ll be dark by the time we reach the other side.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Panji said, glancing at the sky. “It’ll be a bit cold, but it’s part of our journey. We’ll be fine.” He smiled, reassuring himself as much as his men.

“Okay, I’ll keep watch from that hill,” Patrick said before heading off with his squad, while the Buffalo tank began its slow crossing.

As Panji watched the Buffalo make its way across the pontoon bridge, his confidence grew. The engineers ensured the bridge held steady, and he nodded in approval, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Minutes passed, then Patrick’s voice came over the radio from the hill: “Enemy horsemen are coming!”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Panji’s heart pounded. He turned and saw the cavalry charging, their battle cries echoing. He signaled his squad to engage.

The horsemen, with spears and RPGs, attacked, targeting the Buffalo tank and the pontoon bridge. When the initial attack subsided, they retreated to regroup.

“Come back here, you buggers!” Panji shouted, urging his men on. The Buffalo’s gunners opened fire, hitting the retreating horsemen.

“They’re using Parthian shots! They’ll keep running if we let them,” Patrick yelled.

“Keep this battlefield clear,” Panji replied, telling the Buffalo to keep firing and Patrick to pursue.

Suddenly, a new group of horsemen, in winged costumes and armed with explosives, charged from the riverbank. “It’s better to die fighting than at home! Attack!” their commander yelled.

Night fell quickly, making it hard to see. The skirmish became chaotic, with soldiers and horsemen clashing in close combat.

Panji watched the horsemen’s explosives hit his troops. He signaled the Buffalo to fire again, but the night was filled with screams and the sounds of battle.

A horseman slipped past and detonated himself on the pontoon bridge, damaging it and trapping the Buffalo in the river. Panji’s heart sank.

The fighting continued for hours. Firelight flickered across the battlefield, casting shadows as soldiers fought in the dark.

Finally, the horsemen retreated, throwing explosive bolas as they fled. The Red Army, battered but still fighting, began to regroup.

“Patrick, we’re in the middle of nowhere! We need help!” Patrick’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Send a squad to assist Patrick!” Panji ordered.

Patrick and his squad, having chased the enemy, were now isolated and facing a counterattack in the darkness.

“Dig in until help arrives! We’ll be killed if we keep moving!” one of Patrick’s men urged.

“Damn it! We can’t dig in!” Patrick yelled, frustrated as they were surrounded.

The fighting intensified, the Red Army using bayonets and swords. Though outnumbered, they held their ground.

Then, a flare lit up the battlefield. Patrick saw the horsemen just meters away. Both sides opened fire at close range.

Gunfire erupted everywhere. Red Army soldiers and horsemen fought desperately. The air was thick with smoke and cries. Panji fought a horseman hand-to-hand.

Around him, the battlefield was chaos. Some Red soldiers broke formation, chasing the horsemen. Only Panji and his opponent remained focused.

Another flare lit the night, signaling reinforcements. Panji realized he was out of ammo. The horseman was too. They stared at each other, knowing any move could be their last.

The horseman dismounted and attacked Panji with a scimitar. Panji parried with his sword.

“Sir, we can’t shoot! Too many near misses!” a voice crackled over the radio.

“Can’t you just shoot at their location?” Panji yelled back, still fighting.

“It’s too chaotic! Our machine gun can’t get a clear shot!”

“Dammit!” Panji growled, fighting on.

Then, reinforcements opened fire. Bullets flew wildly. One hit the horseman’s leg. Panji grabbed the horseman’s gun and fired at the nearest enemy.

Shooting, explosions, blood, and corpses surrounded him. Finally, the reinforcements arrived, and the remaining horsemen fled.

“Keep firing! Don’t let them escape!” Panji shouted.

As the horsemen vanished, Panji took a breath. “We somewhat survived… Caesar is on our side today,” a soldier said.

“Yeah,” Panji replied, noticing blood dripping from his leg.

Hours later, as the survivors regrouped with the main force, Panji looked across the battlefield and saw the Buffalo tank stuck in the river, its massive frame rendered immobile after the pontoon bridge was damaged. He leaned on his sword, feeling the weight of exhaustion.

Panji’s gaze fell on Patrick, who stood staring at the tank, a look of defeat on his face. The cold wind bit at them, and the river’s icy waters reflected the dim light of the fading day.

Just then, an AI sensor chimed in, its robotic voice cutting through the quiet. “21:12 hrs. Lunar illumination at 87%. Visual: single equestrian figure emerges from the eastern crest. Duration 17 seconds. Subject and steed descend into the tree line at 21:13 hrs.”

“What in the world…?” Panji muttered as a lone rider appeared against the moonlight, chanting a strange taunt before disappearing into the trees.

“I don’t know what that is, but it gives me the creeps,” one soldier said, shivering.

Panji nodded, his instincts on high alert. “Stay sharp, everyone. We don’t know if that was a threat or not.”

“Sir, I think we should dig in until morning. We need to hope the middle army arrives to help us,” another soldier suggested, glancing nervously at the darkening horizon.

Panji studied the faces of his men, seeing their uncertainty and fear. He knew they couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again. “Alright, let’s dig in and prepare defenses. We need to be ready for anything,” he commanded.

As the soldiers began to fortify their position, Panji felt the weight of leadership pressing on him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. “Let’s get to work,” he urged, determination fueling his resolve.