Air Strike

Somewhere on the Eastern Front. November 29, 2026.

The fighting had gradually died down in recent days. Partly because both sides were still in the process of mass mobilization, recovering from considerable losses. Partly because the weather was simply too harsh, with massive blizzards rolling in. An attack was impossible at this time.

How wonderful—Eurasian's offensive had been broken, and their plan to capture Kritchtenberg had fallen apart. But in terms of losses, we still suffered more. Nearly 85 state-of-the-art Abrams tanks had been destroyed, over 150 severely damaged. Alongside that was a staggering 20,000 casualties. The enemy's toll must have been even higher.

At Outpost 127, which had only been built a few days ago, shattered glass from thousands of windows lay in heaps around government buildings and the palace, glistening among the ruins. Artillery positions, ammunition depots, and weapon supply points had been established there.

The hands of a charred clock had stopped precisely at 7:30—frozen that way since a few days ago, when Eurasian missiles wiped out a thousand homes in the city in a single November night. About 100 meters away stood the world-renowned Kritchtenberg Zoo, now reduced to a wasteland. The aquarium had been completely destroyed. The reptile, hippo, kangaroo, tiger, and elephant enclosures were severely damaged, their structures torn apart like the rest of the city.

Tiergyn Park, once a vast green expanse the size of ten football fields, was now a desolate wasteland. Massive bomb craters the size of entire rooms pockmarked the landscape, filled with rubble-strewn pools of water. The embassy nearby had also suffered significant damage.

The park had once been a natural paradise, brimming with rare flora. Now, its once-prized trees had been scorched to their very roots, leaving behind nothing but charred, grotesque stumps. The northeastern corner of Tiergyn Park was now the most prominent ruin in the outskirts of Kritchtenberg, obliterated by the air force of the Eastern Bloc.

The vehicle quickly reached the rear lines of the battlefield. I stepped out and slowly walked forward.

Damn.

Though bombed and battered, our comrades here still carried on with their daily routines as if nothing had happened. Perhaps it was because of the command to halt counteroffensives from our superiors. Countless trucks and armored vehicles rumbled through the streets, their horns blaring in a steady rhythm. Some were massive transport trucks carrying weapons, generating a deafening, incessant noise.

We continued the arduous work of fortifying our defenses, bolstering our numbers in preparation for the next phase of the Oceania-Eurasian conflict. Occasionally, we received orders to sweep the battlefield for unexploded ordnance or assist refugees.

The camp housed a total of 2,100 soldiers, along with thousands of refugees. Of course, the numbers fluctuated constantly. Many fell in battle, others arrived with joy at having survived, and new volunteers were steadily replenishing the ranks—among them, Ilaina and me. This cycle had repeated itself for the months I had been stationed here.

In less than a month since our arrival, the military commanders had transformed this place into a true fortress. Outside, barbed wire fences and wooden stakes lined the perimeter. Trenches were being dug, fortifications erected—all in a desperate race against time to hold against the overwhelming and relentless Eurasian forces.

This work was necessary, so both refugees and soldiers alike toiled tirelessly day and night to complete it. No one refused their duty. If anything, this looming danger only seemed to strengthen our unity.

Security was one issue, but another growing concern was food and supplies. More than a month had passed since the Eurasian army launched their assault, and our lives had changed drastically. Our schedules, our meals, even basic necessities like bathing—everything was different now.

Back then, I could walk into the kitchen, grab a pack of instant noodles, and enjoy it while playing COD or reading a book. Now, every bite of food had to be rationed. Water was still plentiful, but we feared that, one day, even our supply of clean water would dwindle. No one dared to waste a single drop. Even bathing was a rare luxury. Everyone shared what little they had.

Despite this unity, I found the situation terrifyingly hopeless. The air in the camp was always heavy, suffocating. No one knew how long we could hold out. It felt like we were clinging to a sliver of hope in an era of endless war and despair.

Like every other day, Ilaina and I trekked through desolate towns and battlefields riddled with trench networks. At a crossroads, I stowed my rifle in my backpack and pulled out my phone to capture the scene before me—a convoy of Eurasian military trucks stretching for hundreds of meters, completely annihilated by Warthog strike aircraft. Everything had been reduced to ashes. The only remnants were scorched skeletons, charred internal organs, and flesh melted into a grotesque slurry. Pools of thickened blood had settled into the cracks of the ruined road.

Done with this grim task, I turned to Ilaina and said,

"Alright, let's go, Ilaina."

"Yeah. We just need to scout a few more villages, and then we're done with this mission. After that, we can finally rest."

"Jesus, the Eurasians throw their men into the fire even more recklessly than I thought. Just like that, over 1,219 soldiers dead—an entire battalion wiped out."

"I don't get why those idiots keep reusing ancient tactics like this. Also, haven't seen those Sukhoi jets in action much lately, huh, Klaus?" Ilaina sighed.

I scoffed. "I think they've all been shot down. They're probably dragging out some museum relics just to have something left to fight with."

…

And so, another battlefield, another victory. The two of us continued forward, heading back toward the front lines. We walked past fields riddled with craters and strewn with corpses.

Halfway there, we unexpectedly encountered a company of wounded soldiers being transported to the rear lines. They were far more battle-hardened than us, yet their injuries were severe. The sight of them made Ilaina and me uneasy. If even they were in this condition, it spoke volumes about the sheer brutality of the battlefield.

"Hey, which unit are you from? You guys look like you've been through hell," I asked one of them.

A soldier replied, "We're from Outpost 56. Those bastards launched a counterattack again—this time, they came in force. You two should turn back. There are still Flankers lurking around here. Stay sharp."

So, despite the terrible weather, the Eurasian army had launched another relentless assault on Oceania's defensive lines. Their overwhelming offensives had wiped out entire brigades. The casualty count on both sides was staggering.

Suddenly, as we were discussing ammunition shortages with the wounded troops, a squadron of Sukhoi Flanker fighter jets emerged from the blood-red clouds on the horizon.

At once, the company commander bellowed, ordering everyone to take cover.

Seeing the situation unfold, I shoved Ilaina into the overgrown field beside the road.

Barely a moment later, the jets dove down like monstrous beasts from hell.

They roared through the sky, their deafening screeches tearing through the air like a harbinger of death.

Luckily, the fighter jets' target was the medical trucks behind us, not us. Three or four explosions erupted behind us, illuminating the entire sky. The convoy was incinerated within moments, making me swallow hard, unable to imagine the scenario if we had been the targets. Ilaina and I didn't dare lift our heads for half an hour. Though I knew our actions were cowardly and despicable, there was nothing else we could do.

When the enemy finally disappeared, we crawled back onto the surface, our clothes soaked in blood, reeking with a sickening stench. The bodies before us looked nothing like humans anymore—just slabs of overcooked meat, charred black. If there had been any Eurasian soldiers here, I was sure they would have dragged the scorched corpses out, stomped on them, and taken pictures to mock them. Some might have even cut out their organs and kept them as trophies.

This is war. It lays bare the savage and twisted nature of humanity.

I stood up, already too used to such scenes. I wiped my face, clearing away the splattered blood, while Ilaina knelt beside the fallen soldiers. She gently reached down, pulled off their dog tags, and tucked them into her pocket. With a sigh of despair, she muttered,

"If only those fat old men used their brains a little, none of them would have had to die such painful deaths. Why must innocent people from both Eurasian and Oceania sacrifice their lives for the foolish decisions of those in power?"

I walked over, placing a hand on my comrade's shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"That's just how war is. There's no avoiding casualties. I just want this to end as soon as possible. The longer it drags on, the more people suffer. If only Eurasian would withdraw, maybe this would all be over."

With that, Ilaina and I left before we could end up like those unfortunate wounded soldiers. As we stepped onto the battlefield, we saw bodies from both sides scattered across the ground, covering every inch of soil. Pools of blood had formed rivers and lakes, flowing through the land.

The stench of decaying corpses and the metallic tang of blood filled the air, making anyone want to vomit. The dead were many, and the wounded were even more. Cries of agony echoed through the battlefield, mourning the relentless suffering of war. When the bullets ran dry, when the ammunition was spent, all that was left was sorrow and suffocating despair.

But for us, witnessing such horrors had become routine. Fear and disgust no longer held any grip on us.

Unexpectedly, after wandering the area for just a few minutes, Ilaina and I stumbled upon a massive Eurasian military outpost, large enough to house tens of thousands of troops. We quickly steadied our breathing and hid within the bushes. Excited, Ilaina turned to me and whispered,

"This is a big discovery, Klaus. Do you have the map?"

I rummaged through my bag, pulling out binoculars and a map before handing them to her. Ilaina swiftly pinpointed our exact location and identified the enemy's ammunition depot. This base was even larger than I had expected—probably spanning hundreds of acres, with nearly twenty thousand soldiers stationed inside.

"Let's see… We're here, and the enemy is just a few dozen kilometers from the artillery line. We can shell them from a safe distance without any worries!"

"Hold on, Ilaina," I interrupted. "Something doesn't feel right."

"What is it, Klaus?" she asked, puzzled.

I pointed toward the entrance of the Eurasian base. Standing there was none other than the legendary T-72-90SA tank—famed for its near-impenetrable armor and durability. It was one of the rarest models, mostly seen in propaganda posters.

We stared in awe. The T-72 looked so alien, as if it had come from another world.

"Incredible! That's a T-72-90SA! The legendary tank!" I couldn't hide my excitement. "There must be at least twenty of them, along with a ton of enemy officers. This is huge!"

"Alright, let's get out of here."

I snapped a few photos on my phone before we slipped away, vanishing into the thick brush. We sprinted back toward our base as fast as we could.

But luck was not on our side.

We had been spotted.

In an instant, the Eurasian soldiers gave chase. Bullets whizzed past us as we ran for our lives, our hearts pounding. Desperately, we ducked into a nearby town and hid beneath the bed of an abandoned house, holding our breath.

The enemy stormed in, searching every corner. Lying under the bed, I could hear Ilaina panting beside me. Terrified, I reached over and helped her control her breathing. If we were caught, there wouldn't even be a corpse left to bury.

Time dragged on. A few minutes felt like hours.

"Damn it! Those bastards got away! Search the nearby villages! Move!"

I heard their furious shouts and the sound of boots stomping away. My heartbeat gradually steadied. Once their footsteps faded into the distance, we wasted no time and rushed straight to the highest-ranking officer at the outpost—Major Archer.

We passed through countless aid stations, where injured soldiers lay packed together, the stench of blood so overwhelming it was unbearable. We passed through ammunition depots, stocked with enough heavy bombs to level an entire town. Finally, we reached the war room, where the Major and his subordinates were analyzing enemy positions. I stepped forward and reported,

"Sir! We've discovered a major Eurasian military assembly point about 54 kilometers from the city outskirts. We also heard that they are planning multiple counteroffensives targeting areas around the capital. And, we found this."

I pulled out my phone and showed him the photos.

The battle-hardened officer, his face covered in dirt and blood, broke into a grin. He clapped Ilaina and me on the shoulders and rasped,

"Haha! You two… Excellent work. I'll make sure you're handsomely rewarded! This is exactly what we need to strike now. Well done!"

Within minutes, dozens of strike aircraft and supersonic bombers were dispatched. And more importantly, the newly developed hypersonic missile was chosen for the first strike.

That night, as Ilaina and I, exhausted, lay in her room—since I had yet to be assigned my own quarters—an ear-splitting sound suddenly tore through the silence.

It was deafening, a roar so powerful it felt like it could split the world in half.

We rushed outside.

"Holy hell…"

"It's even bigger than I imagined…"

A blinding flash erupted, a firestorm that seemed eternal, lighting up the night sky. The earth trembled violently as a massive explosion shook the land. The shockwave obliterated everything in its path, an apocalyptic force beyond description.

The result was clear.

What remained was nothing but a colossal crater, like the mouth of a volcano.

The enemy had been wiped from existence. Not even their bones remained.

Eurasian's offensive was crushed.

We had—

Won.