nucmednet Chapter 361 The Moment of Explosion
Chapter 361 The Moment of Explosion
The counterattack had been underway for two weeks, and the front line had retreated hundreds of kilometers overnight. For Peter, his initial ambitions were gradually being worn down and turning into something strange.
But he forced himself to stay alert. In the pre-dawn light, the snowfield appeared as a chilling, vast expanse of black and white. In several distant directions, plumes of smoke of varying thickness rose from the wreckage of hit targets—the thicker plumes from the attacks of American intercontinental cruise missiles, while the thinner plumes came from the wreckage of destroyed tanks or aircraft. These plumes shot straight into the sky, and in this unusually calm weather, he looked up, utterly astonished.
The sun peeked out from the horizon, revealing its bright and warm face, but the sky, illuminated by its rays, was torn apart by chaotic white lines, like half-splattered by a drunken artist. These were the mixed flight paths of fighter planes and bombers—the remnants of a night of fierce fighting between the last remaining forces of the Imperial Air Force on the front lines and the Air Force of the Amerlansey International Brigade for air superiority.
The Imperial Army is now back to the state it was in over a decade ago—communications are disrupted, air superiority has been lost, and several frontline units have lost their combat capability due to depleted supplies. Meanwhile, the western Amelan forces are attacking without mercy. Less than a week after missiles tore apart the Imperial Army's deployment, tanks stormed into the Imperial Army's ranks.
There are now two types of troops in Amelansi. One type has a flag with a tricolor border at the bottom and a bright red body with a hammer and sickle—the regular armed forces of the Amelansi Social Republic Union. The other type has a red, yellow, and purple flag—the "International Brigades" from all over the world.
It's hard to say which side is stronger, but the Imperial Army is increasingly reluctant to face the Amerlanse army—according to reports of executions of Imperial surrendered soldiers at the front lines—as some of the troops who managed to escape the war zone and return to the Empire have said.
Peter gripped his rifle—an AS-44 automatic rifle—and stared straight ahead in the trench. Radio jamming was still severe, which brought the messenger back to the forefront of modern warfare—the messenger brought Her Majesty's orders—right behind them, with Her Majesty watching them—to prevent the Amerlansi troops from entering the Empire.
He felt the earth rumble, and some strange sensations lingered in the air—he was born into a magical family, though only a collateral branch, but he still inherited the family's sensitivity to magic—the magic in the air was trembling abnormally.
A car was approaching the front line—an Imperial Army vehicle. Scouts reported that the enemy had reached the village of Niesek, less than 30 kilometers in front of them.
Immediately afterwards, artillery roared from behind—the artillery opened fire on the designated targets—the targets were in front of the village of Niesak—according to estimates, the Amerlansi should have already arrived there.
He looked up at the sky. The Imperial Air Force was no longer there. They saw rows of neatly arranged white lines, like cotton threads arranged on a loom—but the rows of lines hanging above their heads were not so simple.
Each white line is a trail cloud left by a B-52 bomber at high altitude. There are 321 such clouds. B-52 fighters from various air strategic columns of the Northern, Central and Western Theater Commands are entering Imperial airspace, escorted by 64 Su-35 fighters and 124 Mirage 2000 fighters.
"Arrived at the designated area, commence bombing! Repeat! Number 1 bombing!"
The first few dozen B-52s began dropping bombs. These B-52s carried a large number of heavy bombs and were intended to eliminate Imperial forces.
Peter knew that being bombed and being shelled were two different things. The 155mm and 122mm caliber artillery commonly used by the Amerlane troops had a high probability of not killing the soldiers hiding in well-prepared anti-artillery positions, but heavy bombs were a different story. Taking advantage of the chaos on the battlefield, he grabbed his gun and rushed out.
His decision was right—as soon as he lay down in the woods with his mouth wide open, the bomb exploded on the position—he would never forget the shock, the flash, and the sound—and when he looked up from the woods again, the entire position had changed completely.
Even so, he still felt something was wrong. The magic in the air was becoming restless and chaotic. Even for a half-baked mage like him who had only received basic magic education, this was unusual. He had never felt this way before, whether in a magic device factory, laboratory, or magic research academy.
But he didn't have time to think about it—a tank appeared in his field of vision, followed by a second, a third, a fourth... Tank formations of the 2nd Armored Army of the Northwest Amelan Theater raced across the snowfield—a large number of tanks—including Centurion or Chieftain tanks from Amelan, as well as Colombian M1A1s provided by the International Brigades, or T14 main battle tanks from the Global Stars.
Following closely behind were large numbers of infantry fighting vehicles—at this stage of the war, infantry fighting vehicles and armored personnel carriers had replaced trucks as the means of transporting troops in the front-line combat zone, for both sides.
"Those Amerinshanians look like they're striding confidently through our lines!"
Peter wanted to do something, but he knew very well that his own flesh and blood wouldn't be able to get past the tanks, let alone the accompanying infantry.
He retreated back into the woods and looked around—but during this time, he felt the magic becoming increasingly distorted, even making him feel dizzy—he had never felt anything like this before, but he knew clearly that it was caused by the magic.
He had heard of magicians in the past who used too much magic and became dizzy from the magic, or even self-destructed, but he was not one of those magicians, and he used magic only a handful of times a year.
What on earth was happening? He didn't know. The dizziness hadn't subsided, and he clutched his head—the feeling was gradually reaching its peak—something appeared in the snowfield, suddenly appearing.
His gaze fell upon the massive armored formation that had been crossing the battlefield, but at that moment—a torrent of magic erupted—decomposing, halting, and reducing everything around it to pure nothingness.
"What is this...?"
This was his last thought, and the thought of the last survivor on the western frontier of the Empire and in the northwestern border of Amelan—the last person to be transformed into another form by this sudden catastrophe.
The war will end in an unexpected way.