Chapter 344 - 337 — The Third Belt

(Sharing a map in the comments so you have an idea)

Southwestern Army Headquarters, Avarran

The first breach report arrived at 04:17.

By 05:00, the Southwestern Army’s operations hall had stopped pretending the morning would become quieter.

General Arven Tal stood over the central map table while messengers, communication officers and mages moved around him.

Blue markers showed the third defensive belt while the red ones showed where the demons were trying to tear it apart.

"Report from the western approach."

"Seventeenth Division has abandoned Positions Forty-Two and Forty-Three. Forty-Two fell after the southern ward tower collapsed. Forty-Three was evacuated before the holding regiment was cut off."

"Losses?"

"Eleven hundred dead or missing with just over twenty-seven hundred wounded."

"Where did they stop?"

"They are currently holding secondary trenches, one-point-eight miles behind the original position."

Arven shifted the division marker himself.

A second voice cut in.

"Armored movement in Corridor Seven."

"How many?"

"Seventeen confirmed Warhounds. Possibly four more behind them. Roughly twenty thousand infantry and three heavy monster formations."

"Dedicated anti-armor batteries we have in the area?"

"Battery Twelve."

"How many guns?"

"Three operational right now sir."

Arven looked up.

"That battery started yesterday with six."

"One was destroyed and two are damaged sir."

"Ammunition?"

"Thirty-one anti armor rounds."

Seventeen Warhounds.

Three guns.

Thirty-one rounds.

"Move Second Reserve Battery to Corridor Seven."

The operations officer stiffened. "That leaves the eastern road without dedicated anti-armor cover."

"I know."

"There are reports of armored movement behind the eastern line."

"They are not attacking yet. These seventeen are. Move the battery."

The order went out.

For three days, every decision had felt like this: weaken one threatened place so another did not collapse first.

The Southwestern Army had already withdrawn twelve miles since the offensive began. Two defensive belts were gone.

The third still existed.

Arven intended to keep it that way.

A communication crystal brightened at the eastern table.

"Message from Fourth Battle-Mage Cohort."

"Read it."

"Enemy assault crossed the broken ridge at 05:06. Approximately thirty-five thousand infantry, two giant-class monsters and nine siege beasts. Cohort collapsed the eastern slope onto the lead formations. Attack has been halted."

A few shoulders loosened.

The mage continued.

"Thirty-one percent mana reserve remaining. Twenty-three dead, sixty-four wounded. They request relief."

"What relief do we have?"

"None within four hours."

"Then they hold until noon. Seventh Mage Cohort takes half their position after that."

"That weakens the river line."

"Then let it be."

Another report reached Arven before the message had even left.

The Twenty-Second Knight Regiment had counterattacked near Fort Halen before dawn.

Two hundred and seventeen Knights had gone forward.

One hundred and eighty-nine had returned on their own legs.

Three Warhounds destroyed. Two demon champions killed. The outer fortifications retaken.

Twenty-eight Knights lost in forty minutes.

"Fort Halen?"

"Still ours."

"Then the twenty-eight bought something."

Outside the headquarters, artillery rolled across the horizon.

The Southwestern Army was not helpless.

Its Knights fought. Its mages fought. Its artillery fired until barrels wore out. Dragons still went into the sky despite demon mages and Nightwing attacks.

The demons were dying in enormous numbers but that was only things demons didnt lack they simply had more to spend.

A liaison officer from the aerial table lifted his communication set.

"Third Dragon Contingent engaged the armored concentration south of Corridor Seven."

Arven turned. "How many dragons?"

"Eleven."

"Result?"

"Four Warhounds destroyed. Infantry around them has been scattered."

The officer’s expression tightened before Arven could ask the next question.

"Demon mages responded from behind the advance. Nightwing elements joined less than three minutes later. Two dragons seriously wounded. The contingent has withdrawn."

"Can the wounded fly?"

"One can. The other will require a period of rest."

"Get both behind the third belt. If the seriously injured one cannot be moved safely, put a Knight screen around it until the recovery crews arrive."

"Yes, General."

Arven looked back at Corridor Seven.

The dragon attack had reduced the immediate armored strength, but it had also removed eleven dragons from the fight for however long their commanders needed to reorganize. That was how the entire front worked now. Every successful answer consumed something the army needed somewhere else.

Knights could stop a breakthrough, until there were too few Knights left to stop the next one.

Mages could collapse an approach, until their mana reserves were gone.

Dragons could tear apart Warhounds, until demon mages and Nightwings forced them from the sky.

The problem was never finding something capable of hurting the enemy it was having enough of it in the right place at the right time.

"Battery Twelve firing."

The room quieted around the central table.

"First shot—miss."

"Second—hit. No penetration."

"Third—mobility kill."

"Fourth—side penetration confirmed."

By the eleventh round, two Warhounds were burning and another had stopped moving.

Then the demon infantry reached the trenches.

Reports overlapped.

"Contact Positions Fifty-One through Fifty-Eight."

"Ward collapse at Fifty-Four."

"Enemy through fifty-Six."

"Warhound entering From fifty-Three."

"Second Reserve Battery still twelve minutes out."

Arven listened until the picture became clear.

"Pull Fifty-One and Fifty-Two back three hundred yards."

His chief of staff, Marshal Sen Var, looked at him. "That exposes Fifty-Three."

"For four minutes. Third Regiment counterattacks through the gap."

The withdrawal began.

The demons followed.

Three Alliance artillery groups opened fire at once, crushing the narrow ground between the positions under shellfire and magical detonations.

Third Regiment went forward immediately afterward.

The maneuver cost nearly six hundred soldiers.

By 07:00, the line was restored.

Still theirs.

For now.

At 08:40, Sen placed the morning situation report on the table.

"Net territorial loss since midnight: point-seven miles."

"Better than yesterday."

"Yesterday was three-point-four."

"Armored losses?"

"Seven Warhounds destroyed. Five disabled and abandoned in contested ground. Two immobilized but still firing."

"Our losses?"

"Just under eight thousand dead, missing or medically evacuated since midnight."

Arven looked toward the clock.

"And it is not nine yet."

The offensive was pressing two adjoining stretches of the Southwestern front at once, forcing the army to divide reserves while demon command searched for whichever section broke first.

But the third belt was not the real objective.

Behind it sat the logistics junction.

Sen laid another sheet beside the first.

"Updated junction traffic."

Thirty-seven percent of all supplies feeding the Southwestern Army passed through it.

Food. Artillery ammunition. Replacement troops. Ward crystals. Healing supplies. Mage reagents. Spare parts.

The wounded moved back through the same network.

"How much can the alternate routes carry?"

"Twenty-two percent of current junction volume without major construction."

"With emergency work?"

"Thirty-one, perhaps thirty-four. Roads become the limit after that."

Arven pointed toward the three forward corps.

"If the junction falls?"

"Nearly three hundred thousand troops become dependent on secondary roads. Not trapped immediately, but another demon push east afterward would make withdrawal extremely difficult."

"How long before they can threaten the junction directly?"

"Current estimate: fourteen days."

"Best case?"

"Eighteen."

"Worst?"

"Eleven."

Arven stared at the map.

"Yesterday the worst case was twelve."

"Yes."

Neither man said anything else.

The reserve report arrived before noon.

"One hundred and forty thousand conventional troops confirmed inbound," Sen said. "First elements in six days. Majority between Day Eight and Day Ten."

"Knight regiments?"

"Four. First in five days. The last by Day Ten."

Useful but not salvation.

"How do you want them distributed?"

"Forty thousand to the western stretch. Thirty-five to the southern stretch. Twenty thousand to junction defense."

Sen waited.

"Fifty thousand as maneuver reserve."

"That leaves only fifteen thousand for immediate replacements elsewhere."

"That is intentional."

"You expect another breakthrough attempt after the reinforcements arrive."

"I expect the demons to notice the reinforcements."

Sen nodded and wrote the allocation.

For the first time that morning, Arven stepped away from the map.

Through the narrow observation windows, ammunition wagons moved west while wounded came east. Fresh infantry marched beside the road, still clean enough to look new.

Far beyond them, flashes continued along the horizon.

Avarran had been living beneath that horizon for years.

"General."

A communications officer approached carrying a sealed packet.

"Central priority message. High Council military channel.Master smith Karrek’s authorization mark attached."

That brought Arven back immediately.

The seal opened only after the headquarters ward recognized him.

The message was short.

He read it once.

Then again.

Sen waited.

"Well?"

Arven handed it over.

FOUR NEW INFANTRY WEAPON SYSTEMS ENTERING ACCELERATED CENTRAL PRODUCTION AND VALIDATION.

SOUTHWESTERN ARMY DESIGNATED PRIMARY FIELD-ISSUE FORMATION FOLLOWING SUCCESSFUL ACCEPTANCE TRIALS.

INITIAL FIELD EVALUATION UNITS TO BE NOMINATED IMMEDIATELY.

Sen reached the end.

"That is all?"

"Yes."

"No descriptions?"

"No."

"Numbers?"

"No."

"Delivery date?"

"No."

Sen frowned. "They want us to select units for weapons we know nothing about."

"They want the units ready before the weapons are."

"That usually means someone is in a hurry."

Arven looked toward the central map.

Seventeen Warhounds had attacked one corridor before breakfast.

More were waiting behind other sections.

The junction had perhaps fourteen days.

The reinforcements were coming, but roads and supplies would decide how quickly they became useful.

Four new weapons existed somewhere on the Central Continent but none of them mattered yet.

"What kind of units do you want nominated?" Sen asked.

"Units that have already fought Warhounds. Units that have taken losses and still function. Officers who will tell us when a weapon is useless instead of protecting someone’s pride."

"How many?"

"Forty regiments as candidates. Twenty-four from current frontline formations, eight from the second line and eight from junction defense and mobile reserve."

"That is probably more than they will need."

"I would rather have choices."

"And specialist teams?"

"Yes. Marksmen with experience targeting Warhound. Pull crews from the anti-Warhound cannon batteries as well."

Sen raised an eyebrow. "For infantry weapons?"

"I do not know what the weapons are."

"Fair."

Arven turned toward the operations chief.

"List by evening."

"Yes, General."

Sen folded the message.

"You think they will matter?"

Arven looked at the map again.

Another red marker appeared near Corridor Nine.

"Everything matters."

A communication crystal flared behind them.

The duty mage turned.

"General. Corridor Seven again."

Arven was already walking back toward the table.

"How many?"

The mage listened, then looked up.

"Twenty-three Warhounds confirmed."

Arven stopped for half a second.

"Where is Second Reserve Battery?"

"Six minutes out."

"Tell them they have four or they wont need to exist anymore."

He reached the map.

The new weapons could arrive when they arrived.

Until then, the third belt still had to hold.