Building a Conglomerate in Another World-Chapter 89: Advance

Lieutenant Andrew Hayes stood atop a ridge overlooking the battlefield, his sharp gaze focused on the fleeing remnants of the Mexican army. Around him, his men reloaded their rifles and checked their gear, their faces a mix of exhaustion and determination.

"Lieutenant," Sergeant Caldwell approached, his boots crunching on the dry earth. "Orders from command. We’re to advance south and secure the territory beyond the border."

Hayes nodded, his expression grim. "Very well. Gather the men and prepare to move out. Leave the wounded in care of the medics; we’ll send for reinforcements to evacuate them."

Caldwell saluted and hurried off to relay the orders. Hayes turned to the horizon, where the faint outline of the Rio Grande marked the dividing line between Amerathia and Mexico. Beyond it lay enemy territory—hostile lands they were now tasked with pacifying.

As the Amerathian column crossed the Rio Grande, the mood among the soldiers shifted. There was an air of grim resolve, an understanding that they were no longer defending their homeland but taking the fight to the enemy. The clanking of supply wagons and the rhythmic march of boots created a steady, ominous cadence.

Hayes rode at the front of the column, his rifle slung across his back and his eyes scanning the horizon. Scouts had reported a string of Mexican outposts and garrisons scattered across the borderlands—targets that needed to be neutralized to secure their advance.

Their first objective was a small outpost nestled within a dusty valley. It was a modest fortification, its adobe walls weathered and crumbling, but it housed a contingent of Mexican soldiers tasked with guarding the approach to a nearby town. Hayes called a halt as the Amerathian forces came within sight of the outpost.

"Position the machine gun crews on the ridgeline," Hayes ordered, pointing to a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley. "Infantry will advance from the east, using the dry creek bed as cover. No quarter for armed resistance."

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The men nodded, moving quickly to carry out his instructions. Within minutes, the Amerathian forces were in position, their rifles trained on the unsuspecting outpost below.

The first shots rang out with deadly precision. Amerathian sharpshooters picked off the Mexican sentries atop the walls, their bodies slumping silently to the ground. The Hesh Model 85 Automatic Gun roared to life next, its bullets tearing through the adobe walls and sending the defenders into chaos.

"Advance!" Hayes shouted, signaling the infantry to move in.

The Amerathian soldiers surged forward, their disciplined formations contrasting sharply with the disorganized defense of the Mexican garrison. Muskets flared from behind the walls, but the defenders were outmatched. The Amerathian bolt-action rifles allowed their troops to maintain a steady rate of fire, picking off targets with lethal accuracy.

Within minutes, the outpost was overrun. The surviving Mexican soldiers, realizing the futility of their resistance, dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. Hayes strode through the smoldering ruins of the outpost, his boots kicking up dust as he surveyed the carnage.

"Secure the prisoners," he ordered, his tone cold. "Patch up any of ours who are wounded. We move on in an hour."

Their next objective was San Ignacio, a modest town that served as a supply hub for the Mexican military. Scouts reported that a small garrison was stationed there, along with stockpiles of food and ammunition. The Amerathian forces reached the outskirts of the town under the cover of night, their approach masked by the rolling hills.

Hayes called a halt, gathering his officers for a quick briefing. "San Ignacio isn’t heavily fortified, but we need to strike quickly before they can organize a defense. Machine guns will cover the main road while the infantry flanks the town from both sides. No one leaves until we secure the area."

The officers nodded, their expressions grim. They knew what was coming—another bloody engagement in a war that was rapidly escalating.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the Amerathians launched their assault. The machine guns opened fire on the garrison, shredding the defenders as they scrambled to man their posts. The infantry swept through the streets, their rifles barking with precision as they cleared buildings one by one.

Civilians screamed and fled, their cries mixing with the gunfire and the shouts of soldiers. Hayes moved with his men, his rifle at the ready as they pushed deeper into the town. He kicked open a door, finding a group of Mexican soldiers huddled inside. They raised their hands in surrender, their faces pale with fear.

"Disarm them and take them to the square," Hayes ordered. "Make sure they don’t have anything hidden."

By mid-morning, San Ignacio was firmly in Amerathian hands. The garrison had been wiped out, and the town’s resources were being cataloged and secured. Hayes stood in the town square, watching as his men worked methodically to consolidate their gains.

"Lieutenant," Caldwell approached, his face lined with exhaustion. "We’ve secured the ammunition stores and found enough food to supply the regiment for weeks."

Hayes nodded. "Good work, Sergeant. Make sure everything is accounted for. We can’t afford any mistakes. This weapon of ours sure is rewriting the rules of war."

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Sergeant Caldwell nodded grimly. "We’re fighting a different kind of war, Lieutenant. It’s not about numbers anymore. It’s about who has the better tools—and we have them."

A distant rumble echoed across the horizon, drawing their attention to the southern edge of the town. The horizon remained empty, but he knew better than to trust appearances.

"Keep the men sharp," Hayes said, his tone firm. "We’ve hit them hard, but they’ll regroup. This isn’t over."

Caldwell saluted and moved off to relay the orders, leaving Hayes alone in the square. The lieutenant took a deep breath, the acrid smell of gunpowder still lingering in the air. He adjusted his rifle strap and glanced toward the church steeple towering over San Ignacio.

Hayes turned and made his way toward the command tent, where a map of the region lay spread across a makeshift table. The push south was far from complete, and the next phase of the campaign loomed ahead. For now, though, San Ignacio was theirs—a foothold in enemy territory, which is also now their forward operating base.