Snow fell softly across the western frontier.

Tomorrow—

The southern coalition would attack.

And across the frozen valleys, nearly a hundred thousand soldiers prepared for battle while noble commanders spoke confidently beside warm campfires.

They still believed numbers would decide the war.

Meanwhile inside Elarion’s trench network—

Lucien prepared for something entirely different.

The frontier command bunker remained active deep into the night.

Officers moved constantly between communication tables while runners carried deployment orders through underground tunnels connecting the trench systems.

Artillery coordinates covered entire walls. Enemy formations had already been mapped carefully. Every valley. Every choke point. Every likely cavalry route.

Lucien stood beside the operational table silently while the senior commanders gathered around him.

Malen. Cedric. Lucas. Artillery officers. Machine gun commanders.

The atmosphere felt cold.

Not one person there expected glory tomorrow.

Only survival and destruction.

"Final deployment confirmation," Malen reported.

"The First Rifle Regiment fully occupies the primary trench lines." "Secondary reserves positioned behind western ridge sectors." "Artillery crews awaiting firing authorization."

Lucien nodded once.

"What about machine gun teams?"

A younger officer immediately stepped forward.

"Twelve operational heavy machine gun nests across the main trench sectors." "Additional reserve positions concealed behind secondary lines."

Cedric crossed his arms nearby.

"And overheating?"

That question immediately mattered.

Because the machine guns remained terrifying— but unreliable under prolonged firing.

The officer answered carefully.

"Cooling systems improved." "But sustained fire still risks barrel warping and feed failures."

Lucien looked toward the trench maps afterward.

Then calmly issued the order:

"Machine guns fire only in short bursts."

Several officers immediately began recording instructions.

"No uncontrolled suppression fire." "No continuous firing unless absolutely necessary."

His finger moved across the operational sectors.

"They are force multipliers." "Not replacements for discipline."

The machine gun commanders nodded immediately.

Because everyone understood the danger.

If crews panicked and fired continuously:

barrels would overheat,

mechanisms would jam,

ammunition would vanish too quickly.

Short bursts preserved:

accuracy,cooling,and psychological effect.

Lucien wanted the weapons terrifying.

Not wasteful.

Next came the shoulder-fired explosive launchers.

Several reinforced weapon cases rested along the bunker walls while specialized anti-armor warheads remained under heavy guard.

Even nearby officers looked uneasy around them.

Mostly because everyone had seen the testing results.

Mana-armored infantry reduced to fragments. Steel targets erased completely.

Lucien studied the deployment lists carefully.

"How many launcher teams ready?"

"Thirty-six."

Not many.

But enough.

Malen folded his arms afterward.

"Where do you want them positioned?"

Lucien answered immediately.

"Hidden reserve trenches."

The room sharpened slightly.

"Do not reveal them early."

His eyes moved toward the southern deployment estimates pinned across the command wall.

"The launchers exist for one purpose."

Everyone already understood.

Mana cavalry.

Mana-armored shock infantry.

The elite southern forces.

Traditional rifle fire could wound them. Artillery could break formations.

But the shoulder-fired cannons—

Those weapons could obliterate them completely.

Lucien’s voice remained calm.

"They fire only when the enemy elite units close distance."

No unnecessary early shots. No revealing weapon positions.

He wanted the southern nobles confident right until the moment their elite troops began exploding.

Cedric looked toward the operational maps afterward.

"And the landships?"

That question changed the atmosphere slightly.

Because unlike trenches and artillery—

The landships remained unknown.

The south had no idea armored steam vehicles even existed.

Three massive armored vehicles now waited hidden behind reinforced mountain hangars beneath heavy camouflage coverings.

Experimental. Unstable. Terrifying.

Lucien remained silent briefly before answering.

"They stay hidden."

Malen nodded slowly.

"You want surprise impact."

"Yes."

The landships were not ready for prolonged warfare.

Too few. Too experimental. Too slow.

But psychologically?

They could shatter morale completely.

Especially against feudal armies expecting melee combat.

Not armored moving fortresses with machine guns mounted across steel hulls.

Lucien’s gaze shifted toward the western valleys.

"We use them only when the southern advance commits fully."

The officers immediately understood the strategy.

Let the enemy believe:

trenches were the primary defense,

rifles were the main threat,

artillery was the worst Elarion possessed.

Then unleash the landships once the battle reached maximum chaos.

Shock. Confusion. Panic.

warfare depended as much on morale collapse as casualties.

Far above the bunker, the trench systems remained eerily quiet beneath the snowfall.

Riflemen waited silently in firing positions while machine gun crews performed final maintenance checks beneath reinforced coverings.

One young soldier stared nervously toward the endless southern campfires filling the horizon.

"...Do you think we can actually stop them?"

Beside him, a veteran rifleman calmly loaded ammunition clips into prepared crates.

"We don’t need to stop all of them."

The younger soldier blinked.

"...What?"

The veteran pointed toward the valleys below.

"We only need to kill enough."

The young soldier slowly looked outward again.

Toward:

the trenches

the hidden machine gun nests,

and the endless fields of razor wire.

Far to the south, noble commanders celebrated confidently inside massive command tents while servants poured wine beside roaring fires.

Maps spread across long tables showed:

cavalry breakthroughs,

infantry assaults,

and siege operations.

One noble commander laughed while pointing toward the trench systems marked across the battlefield map.

"By tomorrow evening we’ll be inside Elarion territory."

Another raised his goblet confidently.

"To the destruction of northern arrogance."

Cheers followed immediately.

Only Kassian remained silent near the edge of the command tent.

Because somehow—

The confidence surrounding him no longer felt reassuring.

It felt blind.

Outside the tent, snow continued falling softly across the valleys between two worlds.

One still believed in noble warfare.

The other had already begun replacing it.

And by sunrise—

The first collision between them would begin.