Temporary bridgehead on the Bern River.
The tanks of the 1st Armored Battalion were crossing over the pontoon bridge with a thunderous roar.
Clank, clank.
Under the weight of steel, the rubber boats linking the pontoon bridge were crushed down, and the river water surged and swelled. But it did not break. It had been worth grinding those engineer bastards down with [Charming Eloquence].
Sitting on the hood of a command armored vehicle parked on the riverbank, I watched the tanks that had only just completed the crossing.
‘Status analysis.’
[Status: Fuel 40%, Ammunition 60%.]
By the numbers, we needed rest.
Yesterday we had fought the orcs, then pushed through the forest all night, and this morning we had carried out a river-crossing operation. We were still holding up for now, but our physical limits were clear.
The textbook answer would be to stop here, receive resupply, and fortify the defensive line.
But.
‘If we stop now, we die.’
I checked the [Minimap]. Red dots were milling around in disorder. Their command structure was paralyzed right now.
That did not mean I had plenty of time. Even if a commander died or communications were cut, the vast machine called an army would instinctively gather together to survive. The moment they came to their senses and established a defensive line, the operation would fall into a stalemate.
“Lieutenant Colonel.”
Just then, Major Frederica approached.
“1st Company has completed the crossing. The follow-up echelon can all be across within thirty minutes.”
She spread out a map and began offering the textbook recommendation.
“In accordance with the manual, we will establish a defensive line at our current position. We should dig positions in a semicircle and defend the bridgehead until the main force under Division Commander Falkenheim joins us…”
“There’s no need to defend it.”
I cut her off flatly.
“We’re not defending. We keep going.”
“…Sir?”
Frederica looked flustered. Before she could start reciting the manual and object, I got ahead of her.
“Major. The tactical manuals you studied assume the enemy is in a normal state. But right now, their command is paralyzed.”
“But, Lieutenant Colonel.”
Frederica spoke.
“We’re almost out of fuel, and we have no spare parts. If we drive another forty kilometers like this, the tanks will break down.”
It was a valid point. Machines did not run on willpower. But I gave a faint smile and asked,
“So, we stop here, dig trenches, and wait for the main force?”
“That would be the safest and most certain…”
“Wrong.”
I cut her off coldly.
“If we stop, they stop too. We’d be giving them time to come to their senses and reorganize their lines. But what if we keep running straight for their heart?”
I tapped Soissons on the map with my finger.
“Their reporting system is tangled up, so they won’t even know where we are. They’ll waste their golden time confirming, doubting, and reporting again. We run on that confusion as fuel.”
Frederica closed her mouth. Her blue eyes wavered rapidly. It was not vague fear; she seemed to be simulating my insane plan inside her head.
I decided to drive in the wedge.
‘Charming Eloquence.’
“Major. You are the ‘youngest’ armored battalion commander.”
Putting a subtle emphasis on the word “youngest,” I looked at her.
A twenty-year-old armored battalion commander, barely an adult.
She, too, was a war hero. She had graduated from the academy before even coming of age, roamed the battlefield, and piled up enormous achievements—a figure who seemed like she belonged in a novel.
“Did you get to that position by merely memorizing the manual? Or did you get there by doing what others couldn’t?”
At my words, the look in Frederica’s eyes changed.
[The skill ‘Charming Eloquence (Lv.3)’ stimulates ‘Frederica von Kessel’s’ competitive spirit and tactical thinking.]
“…You said we would procure fuel locally?”
“That’s right. Their filling stations are scattered all along the road.”
At that, Frederica drew a rough line across the map with her pen and began firing back rapidly.
“Then speed is everything. We don’t have time to stop at enemy fuel stations and refuel. We’ll have to seize the Republic’s fuel trucks whole and connect hoses to refuel while on the move.”
“Oh?”
“And to prevent the engines from overheating, we’ll need to remove the limiters, but that will cut the engine lifespan in half. By the time we reach Soissons, the tanks’ engines will all be scrap metal. Are you fine with that?”
Venom blazed in her eyes. I smiled in satisfaction.
“I am. If we win, His Majesty the Emperor will buy us new ones.”
“…Ha. Honestly.”
In the end, Frederica could not hold back and let out a hollow laugh.
“In my entire military career, I have never seen anyone like you, Lieutenant Colonel.”
“I’m honored to hear that from one of the Empire’s brightest talents.”
“That wasn’t praise. I’m saying you’re insane.”
“On the battlefield, the madman lives the longest.”
“…I can’t deny that.”
I shrugged and began giving orders into the radio.
“The lead tanks do not stop. If you encounter the enemy, suppress them with firing on the move and pass by. Do not take prisoners.”
Then I went one step further.
“One more thing. From this moment on, cut the wireless network with division headquarters.”
I climbed into the command armored vehicle. The engine began to roar.
“Let’s go.”
To Soissons.
*
The Gray Forest, main force of the Imperial Army’s 1st Armored Division.
The division commander, Major General Wilhelm von Falkenheim, had spread a map over the hood of his command vehicle and held a cigar in his mouth.
“Phew…”
His nerves were focused solely on the vanguard, the Jaeger Combat Group. He had no idea what sort of magic they had used, but the combat group had already broken out of the forest, and the main force under his command was busy chasing after them.
“Chief of Staff.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Do you think this makes any sense?”
Falkenheim tapped the ground with the toe of his military boot. At a glance, it was clearly marshland, and yet—
“According to the engineer corps’ report… the ground is bedrock.”
The chief of staff reported, sweating profusely.
“If you clear away the undergrowth, a granite zone continues beneath it. Lieutenant Colonel Jaeger… stepped precisely along that bedrock line and nothing else. Without even a single meter of deviation.”
“He must be carrying a geologist around with him.”
Falkenheim let out a hollow laugh.
The sights he had witnessed from the forest entrance to this point were simply absurd.
Max Jaeger had brazenly broken straight through the areas they had judged impossible for tanks to traverse and intended to detour around. And he had not merely forced his way through; he had found secret passages hidden by nature itself.
Most shocking of all was the ground. All along the roadside lay orc corpses crushed beneath tank treads, mangled beyond recognition.
“Y-Your Excellency. Look at this.”
The chief of staff, his face pale, pointed at something covered in dirt.
“This is… Zagros?”
“…Yes. They say he was the newly emerged great chieftain of the orcs. As you can see, right now…”
“Well, well. He’s become road pavement.”
“……”
Falkenheim was sincerely impressed, but the chief of staff who had reported it was not.
He had certainly opposed Max’s operation in the conference room. According to armored doctrine, tanks must not enter forests. But the reality before his eyes was different.
“For that Jaeger fellow, this wasn’t even a battle. He simply ran them over as though they were speed bumps.”
It was just as the division commander murmured. A strategy beyond common sense: breaking through the forest with tanks and striking the Republic Army’s rear. To accomplish so easily an attempt the manual would surely call impossible—
‘Lieutenant Colonel Max Jaeger. Just what kind of man is he? Unless he has elf blood mixed in him…’
Leading lumps of steel weighing dozens of tons through a forest at forty kilometers per hour? This was not tactics. It was a stunt.
“Distance from the lead element?”
Falkenheim asked next. Confirming the vanguard’s position was the obvious next step.
“…Well, communications have been cut.”
But the chief of staff answered with an uneasy expression.
“What?”
“After the final transmission that the Jaeger Combat Group had successfully crossed the Bern River, they entered radio silence. It seems… they turned it off deliberately.”
The staff officers around them stirred.
Cutting communications with a superior unit and acting independently on one’s own? That was grounds for a court-martial.
“He’s insane. Completely out of control.”
“We should send the military police even now and strip him of command…”
The staff officers were worried, but Falkenheim alone burst into hearty laughter.
“Hahahaha! The military police? Are you gentlemen joking?”
“Y-Your Excellency. But…”
“He knows.”
Falkenheim pressed his finger down on the map, on the city of Soissons, the enemy’s rear supply base.
“He knows we would grab him by the ankle.”
Falkenheim had no choice but to admit it. Right now, Max Jaeger’s speed of maneuver was outside the bounds of common sense.
If he ordered him to slow down here to coordinate with the main force? The effect of the surprise attack would vanish.
Because Max knew that, he had simply closed his ears and kept running.
‘Impudent bastard. Even my command is a nuisance to him, is that it?’
Was he offended? No.
Instead, Falkenheim felt his blood begin to boil. As commander of the Emperor’s Guard, he had seen countless elites, but this was the first time he had seen a commander who fought so wildly, like a rabid dog.
“Leave him be.”
“Sir?”
“Let’s see how far that unbridled colt can run. In any case, the path he’s swept through is no different from a highway.”
Falkenheim stepped down from the hood and walked toward his personal command tank.
“Entire division, advance at full speed. Don’t worry about maintaining formation! Just don’t lose sight of the tail of the man in front of you and follow!”
As he climbed onto the tank, he grinned.
“If we want to chase that bastard, we’ll have to run hard enough to sweat through the soles of our feet!”
Ruuumble!
The main force of the 1st Armored Division roared once more.
*
“Get out of the way! I said, everyone move!”
Honk! Hooonk!
National Route 4, leading to Soissons.
The driver of a tank belonging to the Jaeger Combat Group was honking the horn like a madman.
Screeeech!
A Republic Army supply truck up ahead panicked and wrenched its steering wheel aside. With a tremendous noise, the truck crashed into the drainage ditch by the road. Potatoes and cabbages loaded in the cargo bed spilled out across the road.
“Ah, ah, my potatoes!”
The driver stuck his head out with a tearful look, then gaped at the object brushing past him.
Kugugugung!
A steel monster racing by while spewing black exhaust. On the side of its turret, the Iron Cross, symbol of the Imperial Army, was clearly marked.
“An I-Imperial Army tank…?”
The driver rubbed his eyes.
This was the rear, forty kilometers from the front line. Behind the natural fortresses of the Gray Forest and the Bern River, this was a peaceful rural highway far removed from war.
So why the hell was an Imperial Army tank racing here?
“H-Hey! More are coming behind it!”
His comrade shouted.
Then dozens of tanks and armored vehicles came racing in a line.
The road became a scene of chaos. Buses carrying soldiers returning from leave, mail delivery vehicles, even civilian ox carts.
Everyone fled to the roadside in terror.
The Jaeger Combat Group did not so much as glance at them. They did not even turn their guns to fire warning shots.
They simply ran. As if their destination was not anything on this road at all.
I opened the hatch of the command armored vehicle and enjoyed the chaos as the wind hit my face.
In one corner of my vision, a 3D map more precise than any navigation system was displayed.
‘Building three kilometers ahead… a checkpoint, huh. There are anti-tank obstacles. We’ll have to avoid it.’
I picked up the radio.
“Lead element, three kilometers ahead. Checkpoint. There’s a barricade, so don’t break through it. Detour onto the farm road to the right.”
[…Understood.]
Frederica accepted it obediently.
Before long, the lead tank left the national highway and entered a narrow path between fields. With a rattling noise, the tank column cut across a cornfield.
The Republic military police who had been dozing at the checkpoint stared blankly at the column of tanks passing around their post.
“Uh, is that ours?”
“Damn… Those bastards are ruining the whole field.”
“But doesn’t that cross mark look a little strange?”
“Must be a new model.”
The military police could not even imagine that those tanks were the enemy. Their drive was far too confident, far too natural.
“…Lieutenant Colonel. They’re waving at us?”
Hanna said, sounding dumbfounded.
“Wave back.”
I gave a faint laugh.