Arc of Fire

The takeover of the airport went smoothly.

At least until Sergeant John burst into an unremarkable dormitory building.

Sergeant John, wielding a Sten submachine gun, kicked open the dormitory door and rushed into the hallway.

He came face-to-face with a man in a Prosen Air Force uniform and froze.

The other man froze as well.

Since there was no exchange of fire, the Prosen spoke in rough Ongsa language, "You need permission to enter here!"

Sergeant John raised his submachine gun and opened fire. Although the accuracy of the Sten was notoriously poor, at this range and volume of fire, accuracy was irrelevant.

The Prosen was hit by four bullets and slammed backward against the wall, where he remained for a few seconds before sliding down.

Sergeant John didn’t delay, and he tossed a grenade into the adjutant’s office next to him.

The guard, just opening the door, saw the grenade fly over his head, his eyes wide in shock.

The next moment, the grenade exploded, blasting the Prosen guard out of the office, his head smashing through the half-open window opposite, knocking him unconscious.

Sergeant John fired a burst at the guard’s body and was about to throw another grenade into the second room when he saw an MP submachine gun protrude from the fourth door ahead.

The shooter didn’t show himself and blindly opened fire.

Sergeant John quickly dodged; only his beret was shot off, and bullets crackled against the doorway.

The Sergeant pulled out another grenade, removed the pin, and tossed it down the hallway.

Amidst the stuttering bursts of machine gun fire, the sound of the grenade bouncing on the floor could be heard.

After the explosion, the submachine gun fell silent.

At this time, the Sergeant’s platoon leader emerged from the darkness, "What’s happening?"

While reloading his Sten submachine gun, the Sergeant yelled, "Prosens! The building is full of Prosens! Intelligence screwed up again!"

Commando forces, like the Red Devils, often "highly praised" MI6’s intelligence support publicly in the newspapers, just like the Prosen Ministry of Defense trusted the Prosen Air Force’s support.

Upon hearing there were Prosens, the platoon leader immediately gestured to the radioman, "The radio!"

The next moment, the hefty radio was thrust into his hands.

"Charlie Charlie, we’ve found a dormitory full of Prosens!"

As he spoke, a window on the second floor of the dormitory suddenly opened, and an MG34 machine gun inside began firing wildly.

Platoon Leader, "Hear that sound! Our Bren guns can’t make that noise!"

Barely had he finished speaking when a paratrooper, wearing a red beret, pulled back his arms and threw a grenade into the second-floor window.

The grenadier immediately ducked.

Soon after, the second-floor window exploded, and the machine gun fell silent.

The voice inside the radio asked, "How many enemies are there? I need to know their number to decide how many reinforcements to send."

Platoon Leader, "I don’t know! My platoon is still outside—"

Just then, he saw a smoke bomb thrown from the second floor to the first, the white smoke rapidly enveloping the area.

Following that, figures rushed out of the first floor exit.

Sergeant John opened fire, immediately bringing down several silhouettes.

The next moment, Prosen soldiers charged out of the smoke, fiercely attacking the platoon leader with the radio.

The platoon leader calmly counted their number and reported, "At least eight enemies!"

Indeed, there were at least eight, as that was the number charging at the platoon leader.

At that moment, the Bren light machine gun sounded.

The machine gunner, having mounted the bipod on the hood of a barrel cart parked by the dormitory entrance, began firing at the entrance, covering the soldiers attacking the platoon leader.

Before the eight men even hit the ground, more smoke bombs were thrown.

The Prosens shouted, "For the Empire," "For Asgard," charging out of the smoke towards the men in red berets.

The platoon leader continued to calmly report, "The enemy is counterattacking us, the smoke hinders our ability to use our fire superiority!"

As quick as it occurred, a Prosen soldier burst from the smoke, appearing right in front of the platoon leader!

The platoon leader swung the radio he held, hitting the man hard and sending him back into the smoke.

"Hey!" He pulled back his arm, yelling into the radio, "Situation urgent, we need reinforcements! We need reinforcements!"

However, after shouting for a while, the radio returned no sound, not even the static from earlier.

The platoon leader withdrew, glanced at his radio, then the radioman said, "Maybe it’s broken from your hitting him."

The platoon leader cursed, "That’s why things made in the New World are unreliable! If it were our domestically produced radios, even beating ten Prosens to death wouldn’t stop them from working!

"Never mind that, go send someone to the command plane to report, we’ve encountered elite Prosen soldiers here!"

Just then, a gust of wind blew, dispersing the smoke considerably. The platoon leader saw the hand-to-hand combat nearing its end, with a dozen "Red Devils" overwhelming more than twenty Prosen defense soldiers, massively triumphant.

Initially, fire-starter Sergeant John yelled, "The enemy’s retreating back into the building! What do we do now?"

The platoon leader looked at the building in front of him and felt that there might not be enough time to clear it, so he said, "Bring the explosives! We’ll blow this house down! Who’s the one who studied architecture in college? Let him direct the placement of the explosives!"

"Hello? Hello? Speak!" Colonel Charlie, the commander of the 1st Paratrooper Division special task force, shouted into the walkie-talkie. After a while, he finally believed that the first row’s walkie-talkie was broken.

He turned his head to his deputy, Lieutenant Colonel Richard, and said, "There are Prosens at the airport! And they have machine guns! Damn MI6 has screwed us over again!"

Lieutenant Colonel Richard asked, "What’s going on? Have the Prosens entered the war? Before we came, I checked the intelligence brief, and Balas was still maintaining a lukewarm relationship with Prosen."

Colonel Charlie replied, "I don’t know. But this could explain why the King of Balas is becoming bolder! It appears that the Prosens are backing him. Regardless, even if there’s a company or even a battalion of Prosens at the airport, we can handle it!"

As soon as he finished speaking, an orange fireball suddenly rose from the dormitory area where gunshots had been continuously heard, and the sound of the explosion followed shortly after.

Then there was a large amount of smoke.

Lieutenant Colonel Richard asked, "Did we just blow up the enemy-guarded building?"

Colonel Charlie replied, "There might be other Prosen forces. Everyone, stay alert—"

Suddenly, he saw a fighter jet starting its engine and sliding out of the hangar.

The colonel pointed at the fighter jet and yelled, "Quick! Stop it! The transport plane is still landing, it might collide with it!"

The fighter jet began to accelerate.

A three-wheeled motorcycle appeared, and the paratrooper riding it twisted the throttle, speeding toward the plane.

The paratrooper in the sidecar took off his hat, clipped it to his belt, one foot on the sidecar seat, the other on the edge of the sidecar, maintaining balance solely through his remarkable physical condition.

As the motorcycle approached the plane, he leapt high and landed on the wing of the plane!

His weight caused the plane to sway violently.

The pilot turned around and was shocked to see him, then opened the window to shoot with a pistol, but the paratrooper leapt again and landed in the cockpit, knocking out the pilot with a punch.

Then the paratrooper pushed the throttle to the limit and slammed down the landing gear brake button.

The plane decelerated sharply, and then, under the inertia, the tail of the plane lifted and dug into the runway at the airport.

Colonel Charlie shouted, "Move the plane! The landing transport might not see this thing on the runway!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a transport plane veered off the runway and headed toward the hangar area along the taxiway.

Colonel Charlie grabbed the walkie-talkie, "God, whoever is available, go move that fighter jet! Get that fighter jet out of the way!"

It’s unclear whether they heard the colonel’s orders, but seven or eight paratroopers rushed out diagonally, and the motorcycle that had just intercepted the plane arrived.

Together, they awkwardly pulled the tail of the plane back to the ground, leveling the entire aircraft. Then they released the landing gear brake and pushed the aircraft to the side.

The transport plane was coming along the taxiway, completely unaware of the fighter jet on the road.

A paratrooper ran over with a rope, tying it between the landing gear of the fighter jet and the motorcycle.

With the help of the motorcycle, the fighter jet was finally pushed off the runway and thrown into the bushes.

The exhausted soldiers all sat down on the ground, watching the transport plane slide past them.

Colonel Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

At that moment, the signalman came over and said, "The radio is ready, sir. Should we send the code word?"

"Send the code word!" the colonel said. "Not just the code word. Tell the Expeditionary Force Headquarters that the Prosens have arrived! We don’t know how many Prosens have already entered Balas, but it’s best to warn the landing troops to be careful."

"Yes!"

In the North Sea off Moha, the landing group.

Sailors were climbing down the rope nets into the landing craft.

The landing craft, filled with sailors, started their motors and left the fleet to join the circling flotilla of landing craft.

On landing craft 001, Brigadier Aromeyev was telling the soldiers, "The enemy doesn’t have large-scale coastal defenses, but still be wary of machine gun fire. Once the landing craft hits the beach, move quickly! Don’t give the enemy time to concentrate their fire!

"We’ve undergone a lot of training. Just do as we trained! Within 30 seconds, you must leave the landing craft!"

Just then, Brigadier Aromeyev saw someone pull out a flask and take a big swig. He scolded, "Don’t drink! You might have to swim soon! If you’re drunk, you’ll drown directly! I can’t lead a bunch of drowned ghosts to capture the beach!"

The drinker looked apologetic, "Sorry, I... I didn’t mean to!"

"It’s just nerves, plus there’s no military bishop on this boat," Aromeyev said. "It’s alright. You’re the first to make this mistake, I’ll pretend I didn’t see it. The second won’t be so lucky; I’ll report it to the military chaplain."

Just then, the navy petty officer piloting the boat shouted, "There’s a signal from the flagship! We need to form up and start moving now!"

"Understood!" Aromeyev responded loudly.

The engine of the landing craft suddenly grew louder, and the deck tilted noticeably.

Though the Inland Sea was not very wavy, waves still splashed into the landing craft, soaking Aromeyev.

Soon, the formation of landing craft overtook the destroyer responsible for providing fire support.

On the bridge of the destroyer, the signal light kept flashing.

Most of the naval infantry were high school students, and one who knew Morse code directly read the light signals, "Wishing you victory and bravery in battle. The destroyer is wishing us courage in battle!"

Everyone looked up in the direction of the destroyer.

Aromeyev did the same.