Fight for nothing.
Hundreds had died, and Fraihn's men pushed forward without hesitation, stepping over the dead and dying as they pressed their advantage.
Fraihn himself walked through the ruined city like a man possessed. His gaze was cold, unwavering, as he surveyed the destruction. Reaching the city walls, he peered down toward the burning forest beyond, where the remaining enemy forces were regrouping. Fires still raged, sending thick plumes of black smoke into the air, and the enemy artillery, once their greatest threat was silent. Too silent.
"Why aren't they firing?" Fraihn murmured, his eyes narrowing. Something was wrong. A grim realization dawned on him. " It's overheated…" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the din of battle.
The malfunctioning radio, still broadcasting their conversation across the open channels, transmitted Ivan's response. "Overheated?" His confusion, paired with the backdrop of gunfire and explosions, could be heard by countless soldiers across the region.
Fraihn's mind raced. This was their chance. The enemy's greatest weapon had been neutralized, at least for now.
"Tell the commanders we push further back to the woods where we started. Their artillery's down, so we advance and push them even further back. And fire everything we have at them."
Ivan relayed the orders, his voice echoing through the radio waves. The soldiers who had been listening to the chaos over the radio were once again stunned.
This mysterious Captain Fraihn, commanding just 500 troops, was not only holding his ground against thousands but was now planning to advance. The boldness of his strategy was staggering, almost suicidal, yet there was something undeniably compelling about it.
This man wasn't just thinking of survival he was thinking of total annihilation.
The sound of guns echoed from behind the city walls as Fraihn's men opened fire on the retreating enemy. Explosions rocked the forest, tearing through trees and bodies alike, sending debris flying into the air. Machine gun fire raked through their lines, and obliterated their positions.
With their own artillery overheated and unable to respond, the enemy had no choice but to fall back.
"Kill them all!" Fraihn shouted.
The soldiers listening through the malfunctioning radio channels could only imagine the brutality of what was happening. The sounds of battle, the screams, the gunfire, the explosions were all they had. But in their minds, the image of Captain Fraihn standing amidst the ruins, commanding his men with cold, calculating efficiency, had become something almost legendary.
This wasn't just a battle. It was a massacre. And Fraihn, with his relentless tactics and savage determination, was at the center of it all.
As the enemy fled into the woods, chased down by Fraihn's forces, the forest itself seemed to come alive with death. The machine guns roared and the trees themselves were torn apart by the onslaught.
They stumbled through the woods, their frantic movements a desperate attempt to escape the carnage that had erupted in the city. But they were not prepared for the hell that awaited them. The barbed wire which Fraihn and his mens set up before the battle, now caught the fleeing enemy. Soldiers tore through the underbrush, the sharp wire snagged at their clothing and flesh, tearing skin and drawing blood.
Screams pierced the air, chilling in their desperation. The enemy, trapped and exposed, caught in the wire, trying in vain to free themselves. But Fraihn's troops showed no mercy. They advanced with cold efficiency, gunning down any soldier who remained ensnared, the ground beneath them soon soaked in blood. The cries of the dying were drowned out by the relentless crack of rifle fire.
Moving through the tangled underbrush was a challenge. They crawled low, ducking under the wires and weaving through the trees, each movement a careful negotiation with the deadly traps around them. The scent of blood and smoke hung heavy in the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of the forest. They pressed on, determined to eliminate every last remnant of the enemy.
Finally, they broke free from the suffocating grip of the trees and saw the open field ahead a vast, moonlight expanse that belied the chaos behind them. The enemy had retreated there, clustered together in disarray, attempting to regroup.
Fraih noticed that the artillery was set up at the end of that field literally a few hundred meters from the city.
The situation changed quickly. His heart raced, the adrenaline surging through him as he barked orders to Ivan.
"Radio the city! Fire their positions with everything we have!"
Ivan quickly relayed the message over the radio, broadcasting their desperate request. The urgency of the situation was evident to everyone listening, and the tension crackled through the radio. The sounds of gunfire, explosions, and the anguished cries of the wounded continued to resonate, painting a horrifying picture of war.
The first shell fired from the city fell short, the earth erupting a hundred meters beyond its target.
"Adjust!" Fraihn shouted, his eyes fixed on the enemy's hastily constructed positions. The second shell screamed through the air and found its mark, slamming into one of the enemy artillery with a thunderous explosion. Shrapnel and debris sprayed outward, tearing through the ranks of soldiers nearby.
But Fraihn wasn't finished yet.
"Direct the fire into that truck! The one filled with ammunition!" he commanded, his voice a steely edge against the chaos.
Ivan relayed the order, and within moments, the only artillery they had fired again and struck. The truck erupted in an enormous explosion, the blast illuminating the field with a fiery glow.
As the flames leapt into the air, Fraihn caught a glimpse of the enemy sprawled across the plain hundreds of soldiers in disarray, panicking, some scrambling for cover while others simply froze in shock.
"Now! Open fire!" His voice boomed through the chaos as he ordered them to shoot at the field, aiming for the clusters of enemy soldiers desperately trying to escape the inferno.
The machine guns fired, their bullets ripping through the forest. Chunks of trees splintered and fell as the rounds tore into the forest, some striking the ground among Fraihn's own troops.
But he was calm and watched as the bullets found their marks, tearing through the enemy. Blood sprayed, mingling with the smoke that curled lazily upwards from the burning truck, and the air was thick with the stench of death and gunpowder.
The field became a graveyard, littered with fallen soldiers whose lifeless forms lay twisted and broken in the grass. Fraihn felt a chilling sense of satisfaction mixed with the horror of what was happening. Each bullet that struck an enemy was a testament to their own survival, a desperate fight against overwhelming odds.
As the flames from the burning truck illuminated the scene, he could see the running figures of the enemy, frantic and terrified. Some fell, screaming, as Fraihn's men relentlessly shot at them.
As Fraihn lay on the ground, the world around him spiraled into a nightmarish landscape of blood and chaos.
Everywhere he looked, bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, some lifeless and others writhing in agony, their screams cutting through the chaos like knives. Men, once filled with courage and resolve, were reduced to mangled heaps of flesh, their faces twisted in expressions of terror and pain.
A soldier nearby clutched his severed arm, blood spurting from the wound.
Another soldier's leg was pinned beneath a fallen tree, his screams of despair as he struggled against the weight.
In that chaos nobody noticed the enemy soldier crawling toward their position. The Zhanur soldier threw a grenade in his direction.
Time slowed as Frainh watched the grenade land before him.
Heart pounding, adrenaline surging through his veins as he prepared to throw it back.
But just as he released it, the grenade detonated, the shockwave slamming into him. Frainh was thrown backward, the explosion sending fragments of metal and debris flying in all directions. A sharp pain erupted in his chest as a jagged piece of shrapnel sliced through flesh and muscle, tearing into him with brutal force.
Blood poured from the wound, warm and sticky, soaking his uniform as he gasped for air. He staggered, vision blurring, the world around him dimming. He gritted his teeth, trying to stay upright as waves of agony washed over him, a cruel reminder of the chaos that surrounded him.
With a shaky breath, Fraihn fought against the darkness closing in around him, forcing himself to stay conscious.
In the distance, Ivan's voice cut through the din of war, crackling over the radio with urgency.
"This is Ivan! We need medics! Captain Fraihn is down! I repeat, Fraihn is down!" The panic in Ivan's voice was palpable, echoing the dread that filled the air. It was a call for help that carried the weight of their entire operation.
Despite the agony coursing through him, Fraihn managed to lift his head slightly, gathering what strength he had left. He knew that giving in to his injuries would only lead to disaster for his men.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he spoke to Ivan, his voice weak but unwavering.
"Keep firing… don't let them regroup. We need to hold this line… they can't get away." Each word felt like it was drawn from the depths of his very being, but he knew the stakes were too high.
Unknown to them, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army was also listening in.
Upon entering his office, he noticed a group of officers gathered around a radio.Their expressions were tense, and he could hear static mixed with urgent voices. Curiosity piqued, he stepped closer.
"This is Ivan! We need medics! Captain Fraihn is down! I repeat, Fraihn is down!"
The Supreme Commander's heart sank as he listened.
"What's going on?" He asked.
One of the officers quickly replied, "It's the Sangur Line, Lenon."
The Supreme Commander felt a knot tighten in his stomach
"Get me a secure line to the front," he ordered.
Once the secure line was established, he turned to his assistant, a junior officer who had been taking notes.
"Describe the situation and tell me who Captain Fraihn is."
"Captain Fraihn is the commander of the 4th Battalion in the 2nd Imperial Transport Division. Right now, he and his men are heavily engaged against enemy forces at the Sangur Lenon city. Reports indicate they're sustaining significant casualties."
As the sounds of screams and gunfire crackled through the radio, the Supreme Commander's frustration boiled over. "What are they doing there?" he snapped, his voice rising.
His assistant quickly responded, "They got ambushed and were ordered from headquarters to go to the Sangur Line."
The Supreme Commander's eyes widened in shock, and he slammed his palm on the table, the impact echoing in the room.
"Who the hell gave that order? We already established defensive lines 80 kilometers behind!"
Back on the battlefield, Fraihn could hear the renewed sounds of gunfire as his troops responded to the command.
"Don't let them regroup! They can't escape!" Fraihn's voice was a fierce rallying cry, though it was faint, straining against the weight of his pain.
Ivan's frantic voice echoed in his ears, calling for medics, but all Fraihn could focus on was the task at hand. He fought against the encroaching darkness that threatened to claim him.
"Keep firing!" He urged again, the words barely escaping his lips. "We need to push them back further!
As the battle raged on, Fraihn's heart raced with determination, his voice barely a whisper as he urged his men on.
In the office the tension in the room was palpable. Officers exchanged anxious glances, the weight of the Supreme Commander's anger settling heavily upon them.
"Radio the headquarters! I want to know who sent these men to die at the Sangur Line!"
He turned his attention to the maps scattered across the table, tracing lines and marks with a finger. Desperately seeking available units to send for reinforcements, but there was nothing every quick response unit was at the western front.
"Fraihn, stay with us! Help is coming!" Came through the radio which froze the Supreme Commander.
'Help is coming' but there was no way he could send troops there.