Chapter 155 - Battle of Tenar (1)

At the frontline of Tenar...

A Raktor private fumbled his hands as he tried to pour the pellets into the canister from an ammo box, some of the pellets spilling out onto the floor. The small metallic pellets pinged off the rusted metallic sides of the machine gun, rolling towards a few cowering soldiers who held their helmets tightly.

A series of distant booms could be heard, causing them to flinch on instinct, knowing that it was another round of artillery fire from the Versian army. The sergeant in charge of the platoon spotted the dropped pellets, slapping the private hard on the back and roaring into his ears under the heavy din of gunfire. “PRIVATE! WE MIGHT HAVE SUPPLIES NOW, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN FUCKING WASTE THEM, YOU HEAR ME?”

"Yes, sir, I'll pick them up right away!" The private gave a quick salute, quickly using his grubby hands to pick up the pellets. He gave them a hasty wipe before slotting them into the ammunition canister of the machine gun one by one, all the while the tremors of explosions and sounds of fighting grew nearer and nearer.

"Load that machine gun faster! They'll be here any minute!" The sergeant roared once more, panicking the private into a flurry. The private slammed shut the cap of the canister, sealing it to prevent the pellets from falling out. He hurriedly scampered to another supply crate, hauling another box of pellets to another defensive entrenchment, where a squad of Raktor soldiers clutched their rifles with grim expressions, some praying while others stared right at Riker. One of them spotted the tattoo on the private's neck as the private moved forward to refill their mounted machine gun. "Looks like we got a fucking gangster here. Same one fucking turning our homes upside down now." The soldier grunted.

The private ignored the taunt, focusing on making sure that no pellet spilled until he was forcibly shoved to the ground by the angry soldier. The pellets clattered in a waterfall as the box crashed into the muddy soil in the trench, while the private raised his arms to his head, trying to fend off the incoming punches. The private eventually let out a roar, pushing the angry soldier off his body with a violent elbow that connected with the jawline. As the angry soldier tumbled onto the soggy mud, the private stood back up on his own two feet, glaring at the dizzy soldier while the soldier's comrades surrounded him.

"I ain't part of that shit anymore. And I was never a major gang." The private spat through gritted teeth to the surrounding soldiers, his hands in a fighting posture. "But if you want a taste of the life, come and get it."

"You got some nerve saying that after all that has happened!" Another soldier shouted at him. "Don't think I don't know who you are. You're Riker, squad leader under the left paw. You fucking killed my cousin, and now I don't even know whether my family is still alive."

"Well bad luck, punk, they ain't my problem! If you wanna take it out on me, let's get it over with." Riker taunted. "Besides, I don't even know who your cousin is."

"BASTARD!" The other soldiers ganged up on him, throwing fists and kicks. Riker parried a few hits and hit back hard as it turned into a muddy brawl in the grimy trenches. His knuckles burned with pain as they collided with the cheekbone of a soldier, while his street fighting skills came into play, allowing him to get the better of the soldiers who were relatively new to fighting. Soon, Riker had three of the soldiers groaning and moaning at his feet while the other two still standing were unsure of whether to fight or not.

"Look, you dumb idiots. I don't have a single fucking clue about what the fuck is going on in Raktor, but if you numbskulls are going to take it out on every single gang member you see in the army, you're not gonna make it home. And between you and I, I would very much like to return home." Riker held his hands up in surrender, palms facing outwards. "Now, will you please let me refill your damn machine guns so we can stop the Versians from killing us?"

The remaining two soldiers exchanged a murmur before nodding, letting Riker continue his job while they dragged the injured bodies of their comrades out of the way. Riker let out an exasperated sigh as he bent down to pick up the pellets one by one.

It's been a long way down ever since he had been captured by Kyle. Even though he had been released by the Seven Snakes back to Wrent, the Euria addiction was too strong for him to wean off it immediately. He spent his entire paycheck on it and was even caught stealing from Wrent's storehouse. Riker considered himself lucky for even getting out of the Red Lions without much of a scratch - most people leave in coffins with only a tombstone to his name.

None of the minor gangs would accept him, knowing that he was too volatile and suspicious with his previous background. Joining the thug rackets was also a useless idea, Riker hardly having the mental capacity nor will to start a gang from scratch. He certainly wouldn't survive against the Red Lions nor the growing Seven Snakes, who's name gave him a psychological trauma everytime it was mentioned. So he did what any sane person would have done. He ran.

Except the West Sector wasn't any better. He found himself just yet another cannon fodder piece in the gang war between the Violet Demons and Veiled Angels, barely surviving a close call with Kitana nearly chopping his head off. That brush with death was enough to scare him straight, forcing him to flee to the North Sector.

Yet jobs were scarce, especially so for a man who only knew how to fight and drink. Underground brawls didn't make much money for him, nor did being a bodyguard. He thought that his history with the Red Lions would be a boon, but it only served as a black mark as people laughed him out for being captured by the Seven Snakes at their weakest point.

Damn that Kyle! If I ever see him again... Riker cursed under his breath as he picked up the final pellet. The army was his last chance to get away from the shame, and he at least felt some sort of familiarity with the structure and environment of the soldiers. Not too many people knew about his capture, but many recognized the Red Lions tattoo on his neck, causing him a whole boatload of problems. Still, Riker could hold his own, for now at least.

"Private! What in Yual's name is going on over here?!" His sergeant had caught wind of the commotion, rushing over to see three knocked-out soldiers and Riker closing the cap on the machine gun's canister.

"They were trying to stop me from reloading the machine gun due to a minor... disagreement," Riker explained calmly. "I have three more machine guns to refill, sergeant, sir." He gave a curt salute before brushing past the sergeant, who was still flabbergasted at how Riker beat up three Raktor soldiers in hand-to-hand combat.

Word travelled fast in the trenchs, none of them daring to anatgonize Riker anymore as he continued to do his job of refilling the machine guns before finally returning to a well-hidden nook in the trenches away from the main arteries, his bunk.

It wasn't much to brag about: a simple carved-out depression in the clay-mixed wall, with a pittance of fabric laid over to give some resemblance to a bed. He had no belongings save for a single pendant that he wore all the time. It was all Riker needed, though he did feel a longing for some of the things he used to have. Kinda miss my pipe. I wonder where it is now.

He laid down in the 'bed', trying to get some shut-eye before the battle reached them. Makeshift netting from leaves and vine served as protection against anyone looking in, while the continuous rumbling of warmachines and wagons moving to and fro never ceased. With each passing minute, the sound of artillery fire got closer and closer, gunfire cracking in the distance as Raktor soldiers fought against Versians in brief skirmishes.

It had been a few hours since the first attacks started happening, catching everyone off guard, even Riker. Last he heard was that they were supposed to push onward to Tenar, but it looked like they had switched gears into a more defensive position. Already the distinctive drone of Aurtla planes flying overhead could be seen, though this time, there was no mage who could knock them out of the sky just yet.

An hour passed, the tremors nearing with each moment before finally the general call resounded to the trench. "To your stations, men! Move! Move!"

Riker's eyes shot wide open, grabbing his gear and rushing out along with the other soldiers to his designated squad. He reached his section of the trench, filled to the brim with hope and despair in equal amounts. None of the soldiers knew what awaited them the moment they peeked out from beyond the trenchline, their hands trembling in fear as they whispered confidence to themselves.

"Men! Ready yourselves! You are all soldiers under the charge of Raktor!" The sergeant hollered as he marched down the trench, patting each of the soldiers on the backs. "If those Versians wanna die so badly, let us gladly oblige them with a hailstorm of bullets! Not one step back, are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers echoed in unison, loading their repeaters.

"Yual himself today is with us, gentleman. Do you see Tenar in the distance? There it is, just waiting for our final call of victory and triumph. Do you want to return a hero?! Or return a coward!?”

"A HERO!"

"Then prepare your heart and soul. For today, the walls of Tenar shall fall under our combined might. We shall return to Raktor as heroes of a new era!"

Riker peeked his head out from above the trenchline, seeing an entire bombed out field of no man's land, where at the very distance he could see an entire detachment of Versian soldiers charging at them. "Sir, there they are, five hundred meters!"

"Gentlemen, ready your weapons! Fire on command!" The sergeant bellowed, each soldier cocking and propping their rifles up on the trench line to aim at the charging detachment. Machine gun emplacements swiveled to face the coming tide, waiting patiently for the Versians to enter the firing range.

"Those idiots are rushing to their deaths! On my mark-" The sergeant raised his hand, but instead of continuing, he heard a slew of whirring sounds, an thunderous barrage of Versian artillery sailing through the air. The soldiers watched in fear as the point defense systems spewed out a torrent of green arcia bolts, trying to take out all of them.

The first Versian shell suddenly exploded of its own accord in midair before the first arcia bolt could hit it. Instead, it released a shower of fragments, blocking and disorientating the point defense systems. The point defense systems fired wildly into the sky, distracted by the fragments and letting the real shells enter through.

Riker immediately ducked onto the ground, his hands clapsed around his neck as a tornado of explosions and fire immediately engulfed the top of the trench. The superheated air seared his lungs as soldiers screamed, limbs and dirt mixed in the air as mud and roots peltered Riker in a shower.

The pounding did not relent, the trench line slammed by an inordinate amount of artillery fire from the Versian side. Each wave was accompanied by the same disruptor shell, the millions of fragments burning out the point defense systems. Riker crawled on all four limbs to get to a safer position, his peripheral vision seeing a point defense system blown to bits, its engineers turned into a smoldering husk of blood and meat.

"HOLD! HOLD THE LINE!" The sergeant who was still miraculously alive, roared with all his might, but it was far too late. The barrage gave the Versian detachment the cover needed to enter the trenches, Versian soldiers and knights jumping down to finish off the disorientated Raktor soldiers. Riker scampered to get out, but he suddenly saw a Versian soldier aiming at him from above, rifle barrel glistening in the surrounding explosions.

Riker pulled out his own rifle, but he was far too slow, a pellet digging into his left shoulder as he fired the rifle on instinct. A stream of pellets shredded the Versian soldier from the leg up, ripping up his thigh skin as he let out a harrowing scream, toppling over into the trench. Riker didn't waste any time, scrambling to his feet and finishing off the Versian soldier with another pellet. However, the trench was now already a battleground, Versians pouring in from all over the trench.

There was no cover in the straight trench lines, both Raktor and Versian soldiers gunned down in a bloody massacre from end to end. Riker had to use the body of other fallen Raktor soldiers as cover, cowering behind piles of shocked, frozen faces that continuously jittered from the impact of pellets. It was a brutal struggle to survive, Riker's mind solely focused on staying alive one soldier at a time.

Thankfully, the Versians were less familiar with the trenches than the Raktor soldiers, making their progress slower. Riker fought tooth and nail with Versian soldiers, using the tight, narrow corridors of the trenches to his benefit as he took them down one by one. The moment his rifle ran out of pellets, he simply picked up another, pulling the trigger for all that his life was worth. The bodies that fell before him hardly registered in his mind, only the thought of living.

Just as he turned the corner of a trench, a Versian soldier lunged out from his blindspot, grappling the rifle and trying to wrench it out of his grip. Riker and the Versian soldiers tumbled onto the ground, a silent brawl for life and death playing out under a cacophony of mortar and cannons firing non-stop. He rolled his body over the Versian soldier, pinning him down and using the rifle's body to choke the Versian soldier. Riker stared into the eyes of the Versian soldier, watching the veins turn red on the soldier's face second by second while the battle raged all around them. The Versian soldier helplessly grabbed and tried to kick his groin, but Riker held firm, his mind recalling the days of torture under Kyle and staying strong.

The Versian soldier gagged, pushing back against the rifle in vain as the life slowly ebbed away from his eyes, his pupils rolling to the back of his head as he fell unconscious. The moment the Versian soldier's arm went limp, Riker immediately swiveled the barrel of the rifle to the soldier's head, pulling the trigger without a moment's hesitation. The soldier's brains were blown out, mixing with the soft, soggy mud and painting it red.

Riker huffed and panted, wincing from the wound on his left shoulder, the pellet still lodged inside. He searched a nearby Raktor soldier's body for a health potion and chugged its contents, before trying to find other Raktor soldiers to group up with. He soon found a squad that was fighting hard against the Versian attack, joining them to push the Versians out of the trenches bit by bit.

As soon as they had a moment to breathe, a new order came in from the commanders to the confusion of the soldiers. "Are they fucking crazy? They want us to push now?! When we just got hit?" Riker exclaimed when he heard the order, but his complaint was drowned out by the approach of a dozen warmachines from the rear, forming a spearhead where knights and soldiers were forming up behind in mass.

Riker didn't have the chance to sneak away, immediately being called up by the reinforcing soldiers to join their ranks. "We're pushing the lines now! Those Versian bastards are retreating back into the city!" One soldier explained to Riker.

"What?! They just attacked us! Why would they retreat?!"

"Look over there!" The soldier pointed to the distance where Tenar's eastern walls were.

"What...? What about the walls?"

"No, above! Look in the sky!"

"I don't see anythi-" Riker's words were caught in his throat as he spotted an aerial battle breaking out in the skies, just like the childhood stories of wyvern wars fought in the mountains. Mineral ants swooped and swerved against Versian fights while higher altitude Aurtla planes unloaded small objects that Riker could barely spot out with his eyes. As the small objects fell towards the wall, green arcia bolts shot out to intercept them, but the mineral ants dived to block the brunt of the attack, protecting the object until the very last moment.

The instant the object touched the top of the wall, a brilliant dazzling explosion bloomed, the sound having yet to reach Riker. He watched as the walls crumbled in a cascading slide of stone and rubble, the defensive engravings etched into the walls fizzling out with sparks as they collapsed. More objects were dropped into the city, causing large explosions and fireballs to erupt, their glare visible from the mushroom clouds of smoke lifting up high into the sky.

On the ground, Riker could see a fast-moving mobile force from an unknown party, rushing right up to the breach under a hailstorm of bullets and cannon fire. "That's what got the bastards retreating!" The soldier grinned and smacked Riker on the back. "Now's the time to push!"

Riker didn't really understand who it was, but he joined the force either way, charging past no man's land towards the confused Versian trench line. The dozen warmachines were supported by other squadrons as well, each of them counter-pushing back onto the Versian side of the trenches. An artillery barrage rang out across the sky, hitting the Versian artillery dead to prevent them from shelling the troops while the Raktor soldiers poured out like a swarm of ants on the battlefield, charging with renewed vigor at the sight of Tenar's walls collapsing.

Riker sprinted forward with the rest, losing himself to the adrenaline rush of victory on the horizon. He ignored the burning sensation in his thighs that cried out for rest, watching mortar shells and machine gun pellets dance across the air. The sky was filled with a million arcia bolts as both sides pushed their point-defense engravings to the limit. Within two minutes, the force had finally reached the trench line of the Versians. The first Raktor soldiers to enter were suddenly caught off-guard, gunned down by Versian soldiers who were waiting in the trench.

“Grenadiers!!” A platoon sergeant roared as he waved a banner frantically, the flag of Raktor already riddled with holes. A squad of soldiers flung a series of explosives right into the trenches, blowing up the hiding Versian soldiers and flushing out the trench in a blinding explosion, while the other squads quickly exploited the confusion, entering the trench and engaging in close-quarter combat. Riker himself let out a roar as he leaped into the trench with abandon, slaughtering the panicking Versians as they tried to flee.

The warmachines rolled right up to the edge of the trench, unleashing their liquid flamethrower and dousing the screaming Versian soldiers in flames, burning their flesh and bones in harrowing torture. Their mounted machine guns fired rapidly as well, gunning down swaths of cowering Versian soldiers who did not have the equipment to fight head-on.

Mines were tripped, with the weak underbelly of some war machines blown up, igniting the arcia fuel within and immolating the crew within as well. The flames and smoke leaked out through the top hatch like a burning house; the same scene played out all across the length of the trench line, which stretched for kilometers.

Each section of the trench line was under simultaneous attack, with casualties and wounded increasing on both sides. The fierce onslaught soon broke the morale of the Versian soldiers, who began to flee towards Tenar, routed. The artillery shelling by the Versians had completely stopped as the Versian generals frantically recalled them. Each artillery and mortar was a precious resource, and with the Raktor soldiers within striking range and clear line of sight of the gun flashes, they were not going to risk giving it up.

The trenchline here was only part of a larger defensive battle line, with other divisions under Count Leon's command pushing hard as well on all fronts. The Versian troops beat a hasty retreat under a general. "Regroup at the second defensive line!" The generals ordered, organizing the Versian divsions to evacuate before they were entirely enveloped by the Raktor push.

"Don't let up. We must chase them and not let them get rooted in. Send one division immediately to support the Ghosts in the east! Pull as many Versian troops around as possible." Count Leon barked orders as he oversaw the battle from afar. "Get Count Kregol's men to bring up the western flank and pressure them as well. I want Tenar's gates opened by the end of today!"

It was a game of wit and strategy, both sides having a full bird's eye view of the battleground thanks to the Aurtla planes being flown on both sides. Aerial superiority had not yet been achieved, as the mineral ant squadron had found themselves outnumbered three to one by Versian Aurtla fighters. Still, the mineral ants were far too nimble for any one fighter to pin down, though it made defending the bombers highly impractical.

The Raktor forces moved rapidly, capitalizing on the disorganized retreat by the Versians. Logsticial camps and convoys were moved up in a blitz, Count Leon not letting up the pressure as he chased the fleeing Versians. The onslaught of the Raktor soldiers and the collapsing of Tenar's walls only served as a stark reminder of the imminent fall of Versia.

Some of the panicking Versian soldiers began to flee in every other direction than towards Tenar, hoping to get out of the battle. "Tenar is lost, we can't hope to stall them now!" The despair spread rapidly, with the lack of cohesion making it even easier for Count Leon to catch them, earning him even more prisoners and supplies to fuel the attack.

Soon, the forces were at the final defensive lines, the walls of Tenar within artillery range. Unlike their deserting brethren on the ground, the city garrison was far more motivated to stop Count Leon. Artillery shells rained down like hellfire onto any troops caught out in the open. "Spread out, and get the explosive charges on the walls now!" Count Leon ordered the troops.

The troops pushed forward with vigor, using the warmachines to cover their approach to the walls. However, the artillery fire only became more precise the closer they got, the warmachines unable to withstand the intense barrage. With no other cover to use, the troops were forced to stop, logistical workers and engineers digging trenches again to serve as a defense against the city garrison.

"Sir, we can't push any further without risking more casualties." Count Leon's general reported.

"I know. This is only a distraction. Are my personal knights in position?" Count Leon asked.

"Yes, sir, they have already joined up with the Ghosts and are traversing the catacombs now."

"Then we wait for the good news. All troops, hold position until the parliament falls! Then we'll pick apart the army one by one."

***

As the hours wore on, the situation in Tenar deteriorated rapidly while the populace rose up in fear. More and more pockets of insurrection was appearing all over the city, the burning fires glistening in the dusk as Mornero peered out over the balcony from his presidential office.

How did it all come to this...? Mornero mused as he let out an exasperated sigh, hearing the klaxons blaring continuously as Versian fighters fought mineral ants in the clouds above. His guards tried to pull him in for his own safety, but Mornero shrugged them off angrily. "I am the President of Versia, and I'll be damned if I can't even show my face! Where is General Verian?" He berated the guards.

"Sir, she's on her way soon."

"Then leave me be!" Mornero barked, forcing the guards to retreat behind, though they remained at a safe distance to intervene should an assassination be attempted. He furrowed his brows, wondering just where he had fucked up along the way. It was supposed to be a simple grab for power - capture Johan and exile Dekar, broker a deal with Count Leon and everyone would live happily ever after. He had been waiting to be the president for his entire life since he joined the revolution as an orphan.

He spent twenty years waiting, plotting, and acting like he was one of Johan's best revolutionaries. He shared in their dreams and ideals, chanting the same slogans they did when the nobility was finally brought to heel on the day of the revolution. But deep down, his heart continuously burned with a vengeance, the flames bigger even than the flames engulfing Tenar right now.

On the desk behind him was a single hand-drawn portrait of his family, with his father standing proudly. The edges of the photos were slightly burnt, a remnant of the fire that had burned down his entire mansion, killing all but him.

What did my family do wrong? Just because we were nobles? Were we not good caretakers of the land? His family had owned the land since time immemorial, themselves being native Versians who were given titles of nobility during the first decade of conquest by the Yual Dominion.

Even under the tyranny of the Emperor, they shielded their people's prosperity from the brutal taxes, never taking more than what they needed. His father remained humble, with Mornero and his siblings even regularly helping the farmers and the villagers solve their issues with urgency.

And at the head of all of this was the former President, Johan and his lackey, Dekar. Mornero gripped his fist tightly, the anger raging within him. For twenty years, he assimilated into them, hiding among them and helping them. His skills in managing people and logistics made him a suitable candidate to become one of the key figures of the revolution, eventually making him the Vice-President.

His hatred was directed not only towards the leaders of the revolution but to the common folk as well, who were easily swayed. To him, they were merely sheep and cattle, going where the wind blows with no motives or convictions of their own. It was the mob mentality that got his family killed and his entire village slain, turning those left against him.

He had lost his name, his bloodline, his heritage, and his belongings. And now that he had finally risen to the top of the pile, the sight of the rioting in Tenar threatened to bring everything that he had built crashing down. I will not let that happen, not on my watch! 

"Sir, General Verian is here." A guard reported to him.

"Let her in and leave us." President Mornero adjusted his suit, wiping down the front as he returned inside the office, meeting General Verian face to face. "Where are the major gangs? Have they arrived yet?"

"No, sir, they... they can't move."

"What do you mean the major gangs can't move?" Mornero asked with a tinge of anger in his voice. "Harrison and I supported them from the beginning, but they are just going to abandon me? Don't they know that if I lose, they will be isolated?!"

"Sir, even if they dispatched a division to us, they would only make it in a day or two." General Verian responded. "But I believe this is a desperation push from Count Leon. Our intelligence reports state that they do not have enough supplies to sustain the siege."

"Well did your intelligence reports state that we were also going to be attacked from the East by those damned Ghosts?!" Mornero retorted. "We don't have a day, not with the local rebellion brewing!"

"I assure you, President Mornero, my best men are on the job. We'll have the dissidents and ringleaders captured within the hour."

"Good. Dismissed. No one, not a single Versian, is allowed to leave the city. I want a full lockdown and every reservist out there on the streets suppressing that damn rebellion!"