Three days.
It had been three days since the Republican Army surrounded Rosenheim and poured down a fierce barrage. The fact that Christmas Eve had finally arrived only added to the misery of our situation.
*Cough, cough….*
I let out dry coughs and leaned my back against the wall. When I blew my nose, clumps of blood tumbled out. They were thoroughly mixed with black ash.
"Matter Conversion."
[Skill 'Matter Conversion (Lv.2)' is activated.]
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. A broken paving block beneath my palm vibrated before soon transforming into a cold bundle of 7.92mm cartridges. Thanks to leveling up [Matter Conversion], I could barely hold out.
*T-ring.*
[Skill 'Indomitable Spirit' disregards physical pain.]
*T-ring.*
[Skill 'Indomitable Spirit' forcibly maintains consciousness.]
The skill [Indomitable Spirit] was sending warnings with unusual frequency. But I couldn't stop. If I stopped, this mousetrap would cease to function.
"Kurt."
"Y-yes! Captain…."
I found Kurt standing beyond the wall. His eyes were sunken, his focus hazy.
"Status Analysis."
[Name: Kurt]
[Status: Extreme fatigue, forced awakening via drugs, hallucinations, risk of friendly fire.]
"The kids."
"……None of them are in their right minds. Everyone's holding out by chewing stimulants like gum. There are countless men who fall asleep standing if it's quiet for even a minute. Some even drool and doze off while shells explode right beside them…."
It wasn't just our company. The enemy rotated their troops, pushing in fresh meat for twenty-four hours straight, but we hadn't closed our eyes for three days and nights. It wasn't a metaphor—we were literally in a zombie-like state.
"Reinforcements… when are the reinforcements coming?"
Kurt asked in a trembling voice.
"They'll come. If the Imperial bastards have any honor, that is."
I answered dryly and checked the [Minimap]. The 2D map in the corner of my vision was covered in red dots.
[Static! Th-this is headquarters! They've reached the bunker entrance! Anyone! Requesting support! Please!]
It was the scream of Brigade Commander Dietrich. Where had that dignified mustached gentleman gone? Only a terrified old man remained.
"…Melodramatic."
Red dots were crashing down like a tidal wave near the headquarters bunker. Their orderly movements indicated considerable elite forces; no wonder the brigade commander was panicking.
But the chances of the bunker being breached were low.
*Boom, boom, boom!*
From afar came the irregular firing sounds unique to 88mm anti-aircraft guns. Mixed with that was the noise of hundreds of rifles snapping and popping like frying beans.
The red dots couldn't approach within a certain distance.
'The main brigade force had an anti-aircraft battery, and even remnants of the 3rd Corps had gathered there.'
But the 7th Infantry Brigade wasn't entirely in good shape.
"Hanna, how's the 11 o'clock direction?"
At my question, Hanna, who had approached unnoticed, closed her eyes and furrowed her brow.
"…It's precarious. A massive mana source… It feels like they're barely holding out, probably centered around Major Seraphina."
I looked at the 11 o'clock direction on the [Minimap], where the cathedral had once stood.
Indeed, compared to the beginning of the engagement, the number of green dots had decreased by thirty percent. The remaining dots, rather than spreading their defensive line wide, were tightly clustered around the center dot.
That would be Seraphina.
'…She's overdoing it.'
She seemed to be using the underground crypt as a fortress to lure enemies in. Probably pouring mana bullets into narrow corridors. But I could see the green dots going out one by one.
Precarious as it was, it wouldn't collapse immediately. It was fortunate that, though unintended, I had thoroughly taught her the bio-resonance tuning method in a carriage back in the imperial capital before deployment.
If they could deal with the René tanks with 88mm support, she could handle most ordinary enemies with her mana bullets.
"The factory district at 3 o'clock…."
I didn't even need to ask Hanna about this. The place where the artillery battalion and 2nd Battalion were mixed in was a complete mess.
Red and green dots were tangled together to the point where distinguishing friend from foe was difficult. Close-quarters bloodshed where they were tossing grenades at each other across a single wall.
Dots overlapped, flickered, and disappeared.
*Static.*
[…Fuck! They broke through the machine room floor and came up!]
[Grenades! Shove grenades through the broken pipes!]
Screams and desperate shouts echoed through the radio.
The factory district defense line had collapsed long ago. The soldiers there were fighting a chaotic melee across rusted machinery and shattered concrete floors, grabbing each other by the collars.
It was literally a dogfight.
If there was any fortune, it was that the green dots weren't disappearing one-sidedly but remained chaotically mixed in. It was proof that our troops were still clinging to the enemy's ankles like vengeful water ghosts.
But.
My gaze shifted to the 7 o'clock direction on the [Minimap]. To the area where the engineer battalion and 3rd Battalion had been positioned.
…….
Silence.
No green dots remained there anymore. A large number of red dots had taken position, occasionally wandering about as if on patrol.
Via radio, via minimap, via Hanna's mana detection. No trace of allies could be found there.
Annihilated. One wing of the brigade had already been broken.
"Captain…!"
It was then. Hanna suddenly turned to me.
She had caught red dots approaching on the [Minimap].
*Ha….*
Watching that, a hollow laugh escaped me.
'When does this hell end.'
I forcibly steadied my blurring vision.
[Skill 'Indomitable Spirit' disregards physical pain.]
'Fuck. I just want out of the army.'
They say if I survive, I'll become a hero?
Bullshit. At this rate, I'll drop dead from overwork before I ever become a hero.
*
At the same time. Outside Rosenheim, the Republican Army's temporary command post.
*Bang-!*
"Why won't it break through!"
Lieutenant General Henri de Dubois, commander of the Republican 2nd Corps, slammed his baton down onto the desk. The luxurious oak desk split with a crack.
The staff officers held their breath and bowed their heads.
"Three days. A mere infantry brigade defending one city, and not enough with our elite armored and infantry divisions, we even poured in an artillery brigade and air force support…! Three days since we threw all this at them!"
Lieutenant General Henri's face flushed red and purple.
After capturing the strategic hub of Rosenheim, they would rush into the Imperial heartland via the highway. Trampling the boulevards of the capital Eisenburg with tank treads before the enemy could reorganize their battle lines. That was the scenario the Republic had drawn up.
But reality was miserable. Their feet were tied down by one small dot called Rosenheim, and the entire front line's rhythm had been thrown off.
"Report. What is their condition?"
"W-well… you may find this hard to believe… but their firepower isn't decreasing."
"What?"
"We completed the encirclement and completely cut off their supply. Theoretically, they should have run out of ammunition yesterday. But…."
The intelligence officer swallowed dryly.
"According to the frontline report that just came in, they're pouring out bullets as if they've set up an ammunition factory inside. They're even firing 88mm anti-aircraft shells indiscriminately."
"They're using ammunition without supply? Are you saying they're using magic?"
"And… their resistance is bizarre. It's as if they don't fear death. They don't hesitate at all in close-quarters combat, and they flank us through unidentified side paths as if threading through the entire city. We've clearly killed them plenty, yet they keep reappearing from somewhere like zombies and firing their guns."
"Madness!"
Lieutenant General Henri roared.
"Are those Imperial bastards using black magic? Or was there some secret weapon hidden under Rosenheim?"
He glared at the map. Rosenheim. He had drawn countless red X's on that small city, yet a blue flag symbolizing the Imperial Army still flew there.
"Ghost Brigade…."
Someone muttered a word that lingered inside the command post.
In Intelligence Bureau data, they were clearly an ordinary second-line infantry brigade. Lucky brats who'd only beaten uncivilized orc tribes in the Ash Forest. The intelligence bureau had concluded that the grand victory parade and medal ceremony were merely political shows for Imperial propaganda.
But when the lid was actually lifted, the claws of hell were crouching inside. A black hole that chewed up everything thrown into it.
"Ghosts, shut up! Are you saying the Imperial Army summoned spirits!"
Lieutenant General Henri failed to fully contain his anger. But even his roar contained a faint tremor.
"But Your Excellency… rumors are circulating that corpses are actually rising and firing guns. In areas clearly buried under artillery fire during the day, bullets fly by night."
"Moreover, those bullets… no one knows where they come from, but they never run dry. It's not that their supply was cut off—it's as if they're digging bullets out of the ground."
It was a nonsensical analogy, but there was no more fitting expression to describe the terror spreading across the front lines.
An enemy that spewed firepower for three days and nights despite their supply lines being completely severed, and that appeared from somewhere to gnaw at their troops no matter how many they killed.
To the Republican Army, the 7th Infantry Brigade's actions had already become a kind of paranormal phenomenon beyond normal military activity.
"Your Excellency, we must halt the offensive."
The chief of staff stepped up to take responsibility and spoke.
"The 4th Armored Division's tank loss rate has exceeded forty percent. Above all… the infantry refuse to enter. Even when officers aim their pistols at them, they say they cannot go into that meat grinder."
He added with a pained expression.
"The artillery bombardment three days ago was a complete miscalculation. The roads are ruined so tanks can't advance, and the enemy could pop out from anywhere among countless ruins."
Lieutenant General Henri, who would normally have ordered the offensive while roaring that they couldn't lose to a mere brigade,
"…Halt the offensive."
At this very moment, had no choice but to make a different decision.
"Pushing in more troops is suicide now. We must reorganize before the Imperial main force arrives."
He spoke, swallowing his surging sense of humiliation.
"All troops, stop the advance and hold current positions. Maintain only the encirclement."
As the command was issued, the staff officers quickly withdrew, and Henri, left alone, threw his baton nervously and buried himself deep in his chair.
"Goddammit…."
He glared at Rosenheim on the map and growled.
"What kind of madman is in there… the commander inside…."