EDWARD IRONSIDES PLATOON TWO

Meanwhile, in Delria…

Some squads within Platoon two had successfully infiltrated Delria right after Solomon's forces took control of the border. However, the beasts were unaware of this silent invasion.

Platoon Two, led by Solomon's younger cousin , Edward, had managed to slip deeper into enemy territory undetected. With him were three squads of elite Beserkers, each warrior battle-hardened and eager to sow destruction.

Edward stood in the middle of a ruined outpost, his crimson cloak billowing in the night breeze. His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the landscape before turning to his two captains—Vance and Orson.

"We can't afford to stay in a large group," Edward said firmly. "If we move together, we'll get spotted. We need to split up and hit multiple targets at once."

Vance, a towering warrior with a scar running down his left eye, folded his arms. "What's the plan?"

Edward pointed towards the farmlands and resource depots that sustained Delria's war effort. "Your squad will raid the supply storages near the riverbanks. Burn them down. If the beasts lose their food and resources, they'll start to crumble."

Vance grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Consider it done."

Edward then turned to Orson, a lean but deadly fighter known for his speed. "Your squad will sweep through the eastern outskirts. There are key supply chains that keep their outposts running. Wipe them out—leave nothing behind."

Orson smirked. "Fast and clean. Got it."

Edward's expression darkened as he looked toward the distant capital of Delria. "I'll take my squad and move further in. There are rumors that their main resource location is near the capital. If it wasn't destroyed in the explosion, we need to confirm its status and finish the job."

Vance exhaled sharply. "You're getting too close to enemy central."

Edward's golden eyes gleamed under the moonlight. "That's exactly where I need to be."

The three captains nodded in understanding. Without another word, the Beserkers split up, vanishing into the night like shadows of death.

Storm, one of Edward's most trusted squad members, adjusted the strap on her gauntlet and spoke up. "I think we should wait until sunrise to move. We don't know these terrains like they do. If we encounter enemies in the dark, we're done for."

Edward considered his words carefully, his gaze shifting toward the shadowy landscape ahead. He knew the beasts had the advantage in these lands—many of them had heightened senses that allowed them to see, hear, and smell far better than his men in the dark. A battle at night could quickly turn into a disaster.

After a moment, he gave a short nod. "That's true. Let's rest up, then move at sunrise. We'll need to be at full strength when we hit them."

The squad quietly dispersed, finding cover among the trees and ruins to rest, sharpening their weapons and conserving their energy for the attack at dawn. Edward sat against a fallen log, his mind already formulating the next steps. The real battle was just beginning.

As the sun began to rise, golden light breaking through the misty sky, Edward's squad set off toward the capital outskirts, moving in complete silence. The damp earth beneath their boots muted their steps as they navigated through dense terrain, their senses sharp for any signs of movement.

As the sun continued its slow ascent, Edward's squad reached the edge of a steep incline, peering down from the dense treeline. Below them, nestled between jagged cliffs and winding trails, was the resource base—a collection of makeshift structures reinforced with stone and metal, likely built as a temporary outpost but now vital to the war effort. Large supply wagons were scattered around, filled with barrels and crates, no doubt holding food, weapons, and medicine. A few beasts could be seen moving about, unaware that they were being watched.

Beyond the base, visible in the distance, was Delria's ruined capital—once a thriving stronghold of the beast clans, now a broken husk of its former glory. Thick, black smoke still rose from the wreckage, curling into the sky like the ghosts of the fallen. Collapsed towers and shattered stone walls lay across the landscape, the aftermath of a devastating assault. Even from here, Edward could see the remains of bodies strewn across the streets—signs of battles fought and lost.

But the resource base remained untouched. Which meant it was still active.

Rain, standing beside her twin sister, studied the layout below. She was short and slim, her athletic build allowing for quick, precise movements. Her long, raven-black hair was tied into a high ponytail, and her dark, piercing eyes scanned the area with sharp focus. "So, what's the plan?" she asked again, her tone calm but eager.

Edward took a breath before answering, his voice steady. "We hit them from above."

He pointed toward a narrow ridge that overlooked the camp. "I'll position myself there and start picking off the biggest threats first." His fingers traced over the sleek frame of his bow, his preferred weapon—silent, deadly, and perfect for striking from a distance.

Storm, standing beside Rain, was near identical to her sister—short, lean, and built for speed. Unlike Rain, however, her hair was cut short, just above her shoulders, and her expression carried a quiet intensity rather than excitement. "And we attack while they're scrambling, right?"

Edward nodded. "Exactly. You and Rain will take the left side—strike fast, don't give them a chance to regroup. The rest of the squad will move in from the right, taking out anyone who reacts. We can't let a single one of them escape."

A slow smirk formed on Rain's lips. "A silent massacre. I like it."

Storm's expression remained unreadable, but she gave a firm nod.

Edward turned to Kade and the others. "Once we move in, keep the pressure on. The goal is to eliminate them before they can signal for reinforcements. We can't afford a drawn-out fight."

He took one last glance at the base, then at the ruined capital in the distance.

Edward moved swiftly through the dense forest, his movements nearly silent as he positioned himself on the narrow ridge overlooking the resource base. He crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the targets below. He reached over his shoulder and pulled forth his bow—Sky's Requiem.

Edward adjusted his stance, his fingers brushing against Sky's Requiem as he surveyed the battlefield below. The bow, forged in the age of legends, was said to be the very weapon wielded by the Arrow God during his mortal life, long before he ascended to divinity. It had been crafted with celestial precision, its silver limbs etched with intricate constellations, and its string—woven from an unknown, nearly invisible material—hummed with an eerie resonance. When drawn, it felt as if the very sky held its breath, waiting for the arrow to be released.

But Edward wasn't the only one carrying a weapon of legend.

His second cousins, Storm and Rain, had taken their positions below, their movements fluid and controlled. As direct descendants of the royal bloodline, they had been trained from birth to be weapons of war, and their artifacts were a testament to their lineage.

Storm, the elder twin by mere minutes, wielded Chione's Embrace—a pair of curved scythes, their blades as pale as frost, imbued with a chilling energy. Each strike from them was like the kiss of winter itself, capable of slowing enemies and freezing flesh upon impact. In battle, Storm moved like a phantom in a snowstorm, her slim, athletic frame weaving effortlessly through the fray as her scythes carved through opponents like a blizzard's fury.

Rain, the younger, fought with Ashen Fists, an ancient pair of gauntlets passed down through the royal line. Forged from obsidian steel, they pulsed with a smoldering inner heat, capable of unleashing explosive, concussive force with each punch. Unlike her sister's fluid, dancing movements, Rain fought like a thunderstorm—violent, relentless, and destructive. Her speed and precision made her a nightmare in close quarters, her fists capable of shattering armor and breaking bone with terrifying ease.

The three of them—Edward, Storm, and Rain—were more than just warriors. They were weapons crafted by war itself.

Edward exhaled, his eyes narrowing.

Everything was in place. It was time to strike.