The sky over Svalfant was cloaked in night.The small town lay quietly at the foot of the distant mountains, dotted with twinkling lights that still remained untouched by the flames of war.
A piercing whistle sliced through the air, breaking Arcia's train of thought. The explosion that followed came from the enemy lines—courtesy of their own artillery. The offensive was clearly beginning.
"One more time: secure Firepoints Five and Six at the bunker, then assault the interior. Act as the situation demands. Understood?"
No one spoke, but Nordhausen was confident the squad had received the order.
"Move out!"
As the squad leader of the First Squad, Nordhausen led the charge through the low grass, sprinting swiftly with his unit. The Type-3 stimulant had already kicked in. The world before his eyes seemed to play in slow motion, as if seen through a malfunctioning film reel. Explosions bloomed on the enemy lines like slow, deadly flowers.
His footsteps became lighter and faster, and he could see clearly, even the chaotic details of the enemy's trench three hundred meters away.
Under the cover of artillery fire, the First Squad advanced up the slope, nearing the enemy line. They approached the right flank—just outside the area previously suppressed by bombardment. But the commotion had already alerted the enemy, who now stood at the ready.
Boom—Boom—More than twenty grenades exploded around the enemy trench at once. Arcia pulled out two more grenades, ready to hurl another volley, but Nordhausen stopped her.
"Smoke grenades!"
Following the command, the squad tossed smoke grenades toward the enemy positions. Under the cover of thick smoke, they charged forward. In the chaos, the enemy could only fire blindly at any suspicious shape.
Machine guns sprayed strings of bullets like strands of pearls, cutting through the darkness and setting dry shrubs alight. They had no idea their line had already been infiltrated.
Within the smoke, Arcia stepped over several crumpled corpses—likely killed by the earlier grenades.
Not far to her right, an enemy soldier was blindly firing his rifle into the haze. He soon emptied his magazine, and in his panic dropped the new one as he fumbled to reload. Just as he reached down to retrieve it from a fallen comrade's chest, he saw Arcia—but before he could react, her bayonet pierced his throat.
Another enemy, witnessing the scene, lifted his submachine gun and sprayed bullets wildly. Several rounds tore through his comrade before hitting Arcia. But she didn't flinch. As if unfazed, she grabbed the submachine gun, twisted it toward the shooter, and gunned him—and a few others behind him—down in a hail of fire.
Warm blood ran down Arcia's hands along the gun. She dropped the weapon and let the corpse collapse.
Through the smoke, the silhouette of another Night Knight emerged from the front trench—likely signaling that direction had been cleared. The gunfire around them began to die down. It seemed this section had not been heavily manned.
"You alright?"
Nordhausen asked, eyeing the blood covering Arcia.
"No fatal wounds."
"Lift your coat. Let me take a look."
Obediently, Arcia lifted her coat. Nordhausen helped and checked the bullet wounds.
"Nothing serious. You have any Type-2 left?"
"Already took it."
"Good."
He helped her straighten her clothes, then glanced around. No casualties.
"Move out."
Leading the way, Nordhausen guided the squad through the trenches, heading toward the enemy's main defensive line. The main trench was reinforced in a winding design to absorb artillery blasts. Despite the shelling, many enemy troops were still fighting inside, unaware that their front line was deserted and death was now creeping in from the flank.
Using grenades to clear the path, Nordhausen's team advanced with unstoppable momentum. Even though the enemy had realized their flank was breached, it was too late to respond.
"Hold."
He raised his hand to signal a stop.
Peering cautiously over cover, he saw a large group of enemy soldiers pouring into the trench from a concrete structure—likely one of the bunker's entrances. After the group passed, Nordhausen led the squad to eliminate the few remaining enemies nearby, then quietly slipped inside.
The Luvina Empire had built fortifications into the mountain, holding off six Dazilet divisions for nearly a month. Even heavy artillery couldn't destroy those steel-reinforced concrete bunkers. These permanent firepoints were a nightmare for infantry charging across open ground. So the Army Command requested Night Knight support—leading to tonight's operation.
At the bunker entrance, the squad split into two teams, sticking to the walls as they advanced inward. Gunfire, boots striking concrete, and commands shouted in Luvinan echoed through the structure.
At the first corner, they climbed a short flight of stairs. The main corridor stretched before them. Most of the troops stationed inside had been redeployed to outside trenches, but reserves likely remained inside. Caution was still necessary.
"I'll scout ahead. Wait here with the team," Nordhausen said to Arcia.
"Understood."
She nodded, then added, "Be careful."
Nordhausen patted her shoulder and disappeared down the corridor with another squad member.
The hall was long. At the far end was another staircase. Climbing it and turning another corner, Nordhausen slipped past Luvinan guards and up a spiraling stairwell, entering a wider space. Even behind concrete walls and blast doors, he could feel the tremors from cannon fire. This had to be one of the firepoints.
After scouting, he identified several more—some heavy artillery, others machine gun nests. Just as he was about to return, Arcia arrived with others.
"We engaged a squad that entered the bunker. Drove them back."
Hearing this, Nordhausen knew time was short. If surrounded in the bunker, they'd be in real trouble.
"I've located several firepoints, but I can't confirm they're our objectives. Follow me."
Instead of leading them straight to the firepoints, he pushed deeper into the bunker. After silently dispatching several enemies, they reached the power room. Generators and battery banks lined the chamber.
Nordhausen ordered his squad to plant explosives at critical nodes, then lit the fuse. About thirty seconds later, a massive explosion rocked the room, and the lights throughout the bunker went dark.
In the confusion, Nordhausen led the squad to the nearest firepoint—a heavy artillery position, blocked by a thick internal security door. Following instructions, Arcia tossed a smoke grenade into the now-useless ventilation system. Another Night Knight followed with a second.
Soon, suffocated by smoke, the artillery crew opened the door and fled—straight into the waiting squad. Nordhausen's team repeated the tactic at two other firepoints. At the third, the door had already been opened—the toxic fumes had driven the crew out.
After taking out another machine gun nest, Nordhausen began leading the team out of the bunker. Surprisingly, despite the chaos they'd caused, the garrison made no coordinated response, allowing them to slip through enemy lines.
"Now it's up to the infantry."
Retracing their steps, they returned to the first enemy line, now reoccupied. Nordhausen led a rear assault, swiftly retaking the position.
"Watch out!"
From the woods behind the position came rustling noises. The squad readied their weapons.
"Friendly! Don't shoot!"
Recognizing the voice, Nordhausen lowered his weapon.
"Edwin? What are you doing here?"
It was the leader of another squad from Nordhausen's platoon, originally assigned to infiltrate from the mountain's far side.
"Don't ask. I'll explain later. Point is—I'm alive."
Clutching his right arm, his eyes bloodshot from the Type-3 drug, Edwin panted heavily. His subordinates looked equally worn.
"How's it look on your end?" Edwin asked after catching his breath.
"Arcia and a few others were hit. One guy took a round from a heavy machine gun—lost the top of his skull. You look worse."
"Lost four. All of us got hit."
He spat blood onto the ground and asked,
"Arcia alright?"
"She'll live. Probably better off than you."
"Someone's coming!"
Figures emerged from the slope—rushing toward them.
"They're our infantry."
Indeed, a wave of Dazilet soldiers climbed up from the valley, arriving shortly at the captured position. Some of them stared curiously at the Night Knights, awe spreading across their faces as they noticed the blood and injuries.
"Captain Koel, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Company, 70th Division."
A man in officer's uniform stepped forward and saluted.
"First Squad Leader Nordhausen, 4th Platoon, 11th Company, Night Knights.""Second Squad Leader Edwin, same unit."
Nordhausen and Edwin returned the salute.
"Up ahead is the enemy's main trench. Follow it and you'll find an entrance to the bunker. Some of the garrison's already been dealt with—but watch for remaining firepoints and reserves."
"No, no reserves," Wendel interjected."But enemy units from the rear might move up to reinforce. Stay sharp."
"Thank you very much."
Koel saluted again and left with his troops.
"Let's go back."
Mission accomplished, the 4th Platoon followed the path the infantry took, returning to friendly lines.