News intro with quick cuts of an abandoned nuclear reactor in Central Asia, then war footage
then camera focus of Veronica "Hey everyone, Veronica here, and things in Central Asia are… well, let's just say it's not a postcard. We're talking about the war, obviously, but there's something else bubbling under the surface: depleted uranium, or DU. It's not just bullets and bombs we need to worry about, folks."
"So, what's the deal with DU? Turns out, it's not exactly health food."
* Cancer: "First off, there's the big C. Studies suggest a link between DU exposure and higher cancer rates, like lung cancer and leukemia. So, yeah, pretty serious stuff."
* Kidney Damage: "Then there's your kidneys. DU can build up in there and cause some real problems. Nobody wants that, right?"
* Birth Defects: "This one's especially worrying: DU exposure has been linked to birth defects. If you're thinking about having kids, this is definitely something to be aware of."
* Genetic Damage: "And it gets passed down. DU can mess with your genes in a way that affects future generations. Talk about a long-term problem."
* Air Pollution: "On top of all that, the war itself is making things worse. Remember those oil wells set on fire? That's pumping a ton of nasty stuff into the air. this makes breathing difficult for people in the affected areas."
* Soil and Water Contamination: "And guess what? DU waste and fuel spills are getting into the soil and water. So, growing your own food? Probably not the best idea right now."
* Ecosystem Damage: "Let's not forget the environment. The fighting is destroying habitats and putting species at risk. Not good for anyone."
"So, to sum it up, the Central Asia War isn't just about the fighting. DU exposure is a serious health risk, with long-term consequences. We need to be aware of these dangers and take them seriously. Stay safe out there, Central Asia. And if you see something suspicious, stay far away. This is Veronica, signing off."
then its Cut to images of mutated creatures
Alam sigh while watch the monitor, The news was grim. It was all true. Since the war began, civilians and soldiers alike had suffered numerous health problems. The region was becoming a wasteland. not slang of “eastern wasteland” they usualy refer to. but the real one.
Alam stepped off the helicopter into the crisp air of Lhasa. The high-altitude plateau spread out before him, a stunning mix of browns and greens under the Himalayan peaks. The Potala Palace stood majestically, welcoming him to the Land of the Snows.
At the nearby military base, Alam met Light, a casually dressed figure with striking black hair and purple eyes, a sword hanging from his hip. His unassuming appearance would surprise anyone who might expect a high-ranking officer.
“Hello again. War is progressing,” Alam began. “Winter is coming, and enemy super tanks are sluggish. But tell me, have you encountered heavy armor before?”
Light smirked. “My first war was against heavy tanks. Sluggish in winter, but still dangerous. What’s your equipment like?”
“Lighter, mobile units. We attack at night and at bridge crossings, but in open fields, they’re unstoppable,” Alam replied, frustrated.
“Avoid open areas unless necessary,” Light advised. “Winter is good for ambushes, but watch out for snowstorms.”
“True. We use hit-and-run tactics and have the home advantage. But how do we deal with heavy armor?”
“Heavy artillery,” Light said seriously. “Or capture theirs. Even super tanks can’t withstand a barrage.”
Alam sighed. “Every shot reveals our position. I tried luring them out by throwing everything at them, even their fallen, but they’re stoic.”
Light chuckled. “A bold move. But stoicism makes them hard to trick. Experience keeps them cautious.”
“How do you appear weak?” Alam asked.
“Pretend to retreat. Lure them out of their positions,” Light suggested. “Risky, but effective.”
“Good idea. Decoys will be costly,” Alam mused.
“Exactly. But if they sense weakness, they’ll become overconfident,” Light explained.
“Got it. Some enemy units mix mercenaries and recruits with elite troops. I need to divide them. Maybe rumors…”
“Rumors are good. Target their egos,” Light agreed. “Rumor a weakness in their equipment or suggest internal betrayal.”
“Tell me more.”
“Believability is key. People believe what’s repeated. Control the source, and it becomes contagious.”
“I’ll find someone to bribe,” Alam said.
“Doesn’t have to be high-ranking. Even common soldiers work, with careful manipulation,” Light advised. “I’ve even used my own commander.”
“Example?”
“I had a disloyal commander spread a rumor about a traitor. It created mistrust. Disloyal people prioritize self-interest.”
“Interesting. I’ll exploit their weaknesses.”
“It’s not guaranteed,” Light warned. “Ego can outweigh strategy.”
“Good point,” Alam conceded.
Their conversation ended, Alam glancing at the Potala Palace before ordering his pilot to fly.
Alam returned to the military base in mid-September, the weight of his recent experiences heavy on his shoulders. Now, he was back to reclaim his power and forgive his vassals for the disaster of the last campaign. He understood that the chaos stemmed from the diverse backgrounds of those under his command. By November, he planned to have the True Horde back under his control, but for now, he faced a world filled with uncertainty.
The next day, the evacuation of the base was complete, and Alam was en route to a new base in Xian. Inside the Hind helicopter, Nalin sat quietly beside him, lost in her thoughts.
“Ahh… here we are, Xian,” Alam said as they descended, nostalgia washing over him. “I fought one of my greatest battles here a few months ago.”
Nalin’s curiosity piqued. “You fought a great battle here? What happened?”
“Yes,” Alam replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I besieged the Xian Empire, attacking two cities at once with only a hundred soldiers, ten IFVs, and a single Hind, facing thousands of enemies.”
Nalin’s eyes widened in surprise. “That sounds impressive! You managed all that with so few people?”
“Yeah, I know it sounds cocky, but I was surprised I pulled it off,” Alam admitted with a modest smile. “Thanks to Gott and my men.”
Nalin fell quiet, pondering the role of Gott and Alam’s men in that monumental battle. “What’s your plan now?” she finally asked.
“I’ll hold a war council after this. We can take a walk afterward,” Alam said, glancing at her with a hint of excitement.
“Sure! I’d love to,” Nalin replied, her tone brightening.
“Oh, I know where we should go,” Alam said, starting the jeep with an escort to a nearby village.
“More flashy areas next time?” Nalin teased. “But what do you need to do here first?”
“There’s a middle-aged woman named Luo. She’s a widow, and her children died in battle. I visited her frequently during the siege. I just need to check on her,” Alam explained.
Nalin’s expression softened. “That’s good. I’m sure she appreciates your visits.”
“Yeah, but it might be boring for you since you don’t know her,” he added, glancing at her.
“I’m fine. If you’re meeting with her, take your time. I can wait,” Nalin said, trying to hide her disappointment.
“Thanks,” Alam replied, patting her head affectionately before heading toward the village.
As they approached, Alam knocked on the door of a modest building. It opened slightly, revealing Luo’s kind face.
“Hello! Can I help you?” she asked, peering out.
“Can I meet Luo?” Alam inquired.
“Ah, that’s me! I’m so sorry, but you look a bit different,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in!”
“Yeah, I guess I have a tired face,” Alam said with a chuckle, taking a seat as Luo began to prepare tea.
“You look like you’ve experienced a hard life recently, but your spirit remains,” Luo said as she poured the steaming tea, her voice warm and inviting.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Is that bad? It’s only been a couple of months,” Alam replied, taking a sip of the bitter tea.
“It’s not bad, but it’s clear you’ve been through a lot, especially with the unification of China,” Luo noted, concern lacing her tone.
“Yeah, I’m trying to control my emotions, even in battle,” Alam admitted, his gaze drifting.
Luo nodded, her expression thoughtful. “How long have you been fighting the Red Nation?”
“About two months now,” Alam replied, then added, “Does winter in Xian affect you?”
“It’s not too bad compared to other places. I’ve grown used to it over the years,” Luo explained.
“I see. You just get used to it after a while,” Alam said, nodding in understanding.
“Yes, exactly. But what about you? How does the climate affect you?” Luo asked.
“Ha, it’s like a sea of ice where I come from,” Alam said, showing her a photo of his base buried in snow.
Luo marveled at the image. “You could survive living in such cold?”
“I wanted to stay longer, but there’s someone waiting for me,” Alam replied, glancing toward the door.
“Who’s waiting for you? A comrade or someone special?” Luo asked with a hint of curiosity.
“Kind of,” Alam said with a grin. “My base operation is now in Xian, and if Gott wills it, I can visit again soon.”
“I hope you do. I’m interested in hearing more about your adventures,” Luo said, her smile brightening the room.
“Thanks for the tea. It’s been great catching up,” Alam said as he prepared to leave.
“Thank you for visiting, and I hope we can meet again,” Luo replied warmly.
As Alam stepped outside, As he approached Nalin, he couldn’t help but tease, “Do I take long? Hehe.”
Nalin looked up, feigning disappointment. “Yes, you have been a while. I thought you would be back sooner, but it seems my wait got longer.”
“Anyway, what do you want to see in the city? There are museums and advanced stores,” Alam suggested, eager to shift the mood.
Nalin thought for a moment. “The museum sounds interesting. I believe it would have some fascinating artifacts.”
“Alright, let’s go then!” Alam replied, excitement bubbling in his voice.
They rode back to the city, eventually reaching the Terracotta Museum. As they arrived, the escort parked the vehicle and guided them inside. The museum was a treasure trove of ancient Chinese artifacts, a sprawling testament to the rich history that surrounded them.
“Nalin, do you know this place from your encyclopedia collection?” Alam asked, glancing over at her.
“Yes! I’ve read about this museum. It’s one of the largest in the China Empire, filled with interesting exhibits about the culture and history,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“What do you know about terracotta?” Alam pressed, genuinely curious.
Nalin smiled, ready to share her knowledge. “Terracotta is a type of clay often found in China, used since ancient times for pottery and other purposes. The Terracotta Warriors are symbolic figures made from it, representing the might of the Chinese Empire.”
“Hehe, I see,” Alam said, amused. “But what’s your honest feeling? Why would someone bother to make statues on such a massive scale?”
Nalin paused, thinking carefully. “I don’t know for sure, but it likely relates to the pride of the civilization. Creating gigantic statues projects power and permanence.”
“Sounds about right,” Alam replied thoughtfully.
As they admired the imposing terracotta warriors, Nalin felt a swell of awe. The craftsmanship was astounding, and it struck her how these figures had stood the test of time.
“Speaking of battles, my war council meeting is soon. We’ll continue our little adventure later,” Alam said, glancing at the time.
Nalin felt a flicker of disappointment but quickly masked it. “Oh, I understand. Go meet the war council. We can continue this later when you’re free,” she said softly.
“Alright. Feel free to roam while I’m in the meeting. There will be an escort to guard you,” Alam added, his tone reassuring.
“Really? I can explore while the escort guards me?” Nalin’s voice brightened.
“Yes. People nearby know we’re close, so you’ll need an escort wherever you go,” Alam explained.
Nalin’s excitement dimmed slightly at the thought of being a burden. “But are you sure it’s fine? I don’t want to tire them out with my wandering.”
“Don’t worry! Your escort might enjoy it. They could use a vacation too,” Alam joked, trying to lighten her mood.
“Oh, I see! If they get a vacation too, then it shouldn't be a bother,” she said, her smile returning.
“Exactly. Alright, I’ll see you later,” Alam said, heading toward the meeting.
“Okay, bye for now. Good luck with the war council! I hope everything goes well,” Nalin replied, watching him go with a mix of admiration and concern for his burdens.
She took a deep breath, ready to embrace her newfound freedom to explore, her heart fluttering with the possibilities that lay ahead.
Most people in the military are driven by a sense of purpose. They want to contribute to their families and their country. Fang had acted as Alam's successor during his absence, but now she was back to being his loyal subordinate.
Alam stepped into the bustling headquarters of the True Horde, a hive of activity where officials and officers moved with determination, ensuring everything ran smoothly. The atmosphere buzzed with urgency, and as Alam entered, heads turned in his direction. Among them was Fang, who greeted him with a respectful bow and a warm smile.
“Good to see you all. Please, have a seat,” Alam gestured to the assembled officers.
They complied, whispers rippling through the room as they discussed Alam’s sudden return and the assassination attempt against him. Was it a traitor within the True Horde, or an elite enemy force? As a strategist, Alam knew he had to choose his words carefully.
Fang stood beside him, sensing the tension in the air.
“Ehem. From our reports, someone hacked the SAM system and targeted my Hind. They also sent a spec ops team to eliminate me. It must have been their elite force,” Alam stated, his tone grave.
The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Alam chose to blame the unknown enemy rather than suggest a traitor within the True Horde. He believed this would help unite the shaken group. Fang’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and anger.
“Anyway, we’ve initiated an investigation into that incident. Now, let’s focus on the Red Army invasion. Here’s the latest intel on their new super tank,” Alam said, motioning toward a screen displaying an imposing image of the Buffalo tank, nicknamed "The Giant Coffin" by its crews.
“Impressive… very impressive,” Fang remarked, her eyes gleaming. “How many do the Red Nation have?”
"We don't know. But every engagement reveals more. Conventional attacks are proving difficult."
"Its armor is a serious problem," Fang agreed. "Do we know its weaknesses?"
"My artisan is working on a countermeasure, but it's still in prototype," Alam admitted.
Baihu looked perplexed. Zhang was focused. Jax's eyes burned with determination.
"For now," Alam continued, "we'll rely on sabotage and guerrilla tactics. Hilly and forested terrain is our advantage. Open fields are theirs."
"So terrain is key," Fang summarized. "We must avoid open plains."
"Exactly," Alam confirmed. "And with winter approaching, the steppe will become a liability for them."
"We should target their river crossings and supply lines," Fang suggested.
"Agreed. Any questions?" Alam scanned the room.
“No, Sir. Thank you for your briefing. We will work tirelessly to thwart the Red Nation's invasion and develop new tools against the Buffalo. We won’t let their arsenal defeat us,” she said, her determination unwavering as she bowed respectfully.
“Then let’s prepare. They’ve thrown a beast at us, but like Goliath or the elephants Alexander faced at Gaugamela, we will slay that beast and bring shame to the Red Army!” Alam declared, his voice rising with passion.
The officers echoed his words, their resolve solidifying. Fang stood proudly beside Alam, her hand gripping her pistol holster, ready to carry out their leader’s orders and face the Red Nation’s invasion head-on.
Meanwhile, in the South Red Army Position
As the Red Army huddled by the riverside, tension hung thick in the air. They stood watch all night, alert for any signs of an enemy attack. The atmosphere was charged with anxiety, the soldiers' breaths visible in the cold morning air. Panji moved among them, checking on their morale, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
At dawn, a scout from the middle army arrived, breathless and urgent. “Sir, the middle army is bringing heavy equipment and workers to retrieve the tank stuck in the river. If the recovery fails, our supreme leader has ordered its destruction and a regroup.”
Panji felt a wave of relief wash over him. “That’s good news. We can either salvage the tank or ensure it doesn’t fall into enemy hands.”
“But destroy a million-credit tank? That’s insane!” one soldier exclaimed.
“Yeah, but a destroyed tank is better than letting it fall into enemy hands,” another added, nodding in agreement.
Panji acknowledged their comments with a nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. The loss of such a valuable asset weighed heavily on them all.
Patrick, however, was visibly distressed by the idea of destruction. “Destroy the tank? It’s like destroying a home,” he muttered, gazing up at the massive vehicle. The tank, a mobile fortress on the battlefield, was a symbol of their strength. The thought of it being lost made him feel helpless.
“Hold on,” Panji said, noticing Patrick’s turmoil. “We’ll do everything we can to retrieve it.”
As the afternoon rolled in, heavy equipment arrived—cranes and tractors accompanied by workers and soldiers. They immediately began digging and attaching chains to the tank, their movements a mix of urgency and tension.
Suddenly, an unsettling taunt echoed across the riverbank, causing soldiers to jump into defensive positions. Panji felt a chill run down his spine, the strange noise unsettling the already anxious troops.
“What the hell...?” Patrick muttered, scanning the area as soldiers looked skyward and around, trying to pinpoint the source of the taunting. The sound grew louder, mocking them, and some soldiers attempted to respond, shouting back questions, but the voice offered no answers, just relentless taunting.
Then, with a sudden explosion, a mortar shell landed nearby, sending dirt and debris flying into the air. “Sir! They’re attacking again!” a soldier shouted, panic creeping into his voice.
“Hold position!” Panji commanded, his voice firm despite the chaos. The soldiers obeyed, taking defensive stances and watching every direction, aware that the enemy could be planning a more significant assault.
As they steadied themselves, the taunting voice echoed once more, unsettling their nerves. Then, amidst the noise, heads began to fall from the sky, landing with a sickening thud.
“Those are the heads of our comrades! They’re using catapults to launch them from the north!” a soldier exclaimed in horror.
“Could this be a distraction for an attack?” another asked, fear evident in his eyes.
Panji took a deep breath, the gruesome sight igniting a fire of determination within him. “Stay vigilant. We’re waiting for the enemy to reveal their next move,” he urged, trying to maintain control amidst the rising panic.
As the soldiers braced themselves, Zion’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Those bastards are smarter than we thought. They’re using our tactics against us. We need to keep our guard up at night and prepare for any attack. Reinforce the areas they’ve targeted.”
With the winter steppe at their backs, the Wanderer Group had managed to impede the Red Nation's advance into True Horde territory. The biting cold had slowed their movements, and the Wanderers’ hit-and-run tactics had effectively harassed the Red Nation’s troops, targeting supply lines and river crossings.
red army prepared for the night, digging foxholes and staying alert. They knew their enemies would exploit any weakness, and they couldn’t afford to lower their guard. The ominous presence of the enemy loomed over them.
“Sir, what should we do now?” a soldier asked, glancing anxiously at Patrick.
“Regroup with the middle army,” Panji said firmly.
Patrick nodded in agreement, relief washing over him. “I trust your judgment.”
The decision to regroup felt like a lifeline. A shared sense of purpose settled over the Red Army soldiers as they prepared to move, the image of the stranded Buffalo a stark reminder of the cost of this war. The setting sun cast long shadows across the snow-covered steppe, a cold promise of the night to come.
Thousands of miles away, in the dimly lit command center in California, the same setting sun cast a different kind of shadow – one of frustration and mounting pressure. Zion stared at the holographic map, the blinking lights representing his stalled advance across Central Asia. The rhythmic beeping of communication consoles punctuated the heavy silence.
"Damn it," he muttered, his eyes narrowed. "They're like ghosts. Attacking from the shadows, then vanishing. They know this land too well." He turned to the Red General. "How do we fight an enemy we can't pin down?"
The General shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, with the winter setting in… perhaps a strategic pause until spring…?"
Zion's jaw tightened. "A pause? That's conceding defeat. We are the Red Nation. We don't retreat. We adapt." He paced the room, his frustration palpable. "We need a counter-strategy. Something to flush them out."
General Sima, a Khaganate officer, spoke up. "What if we create a specialized unit? Trained in tracking, night combat… guerrilla warfare of our own."
A spark ignited in Zion's eyes. "Excellent. They know the land; we'll learn it. Conventional tactics won't work against them. We need hunters, not soldiers." He turned to Sima. "Assemble this unit. Immediately. I want the best equipment, the best training. Make them the mirror image of our enemy."
Sima’s eyes gleamed. “And to ensure compliance from the locals, we should demonstrate our power. A show of force. Perhaps… burn a few villages.”
Zion’s expression hardened. "Absolutely not. We are not barbarians. We target combatants, not civilians. We create allies, not enemies. Any civilian caught aiding the saboteurs will be dealt with according to protocol – interrogation, relocation to the Khaganate. Understood?"
“Understood,” Sima replied, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his face.
As Sima left, a junior officer approached, his face grim. “Sir, we’ve just received confirmation. The Buffalo… it’s irrecoverable. The enemy damaged the pontoon bridge during the attack. It’s stuck fast in the river.”
Zion rubbed his temples. "Another loss. They're targeting our assets, hitting us where it hurts. Are there any casualties?"
"The crew escaped, sir. They've rejoined the middle army. Our advance on the other fronts remains steady, though we've reached a stalemate in China."
Zion sighed. The news from China was a heavy blow. He knew the unification efforts there were gaining momentum. He had to find a way to break the deadlock.
"On a more… promising note, sir," the General added, "the Strato Cannon is nearing completion. We anticipate it will be operational by December."
A faint smile touched Zion's lips. "The Strato Cannon. Yes. That will change everything." He looked back at the map, his gaze hardening. "Until then… we adapt. We hunt the hunters."