Empire Of Ash

Chapter 37: The Empire Strikes Back

The capital city of Vardovia, Novograd, had never known such fear. Smoke rose in thick black columns from the outskirts as the Veldar forces prepared to launch their final assault on the largest nation in the world. Their Königslöwe tanks were lined up, their cold, mechanical rumble piercing the winter air as they rolled forward, unstoppable. Vardovian forces had been crushed along the eastern front, and now the heart of the empire lay vulnerable.

Inside the city, panic had spread through the streets. Civilians barricaded themselves in their homes, while the once-proud Vardovian military scrambled to hold the crumbling lines. The imposing walls of Novograd, ancient and weathered by centuries of conflict, seemed insignificant in the face of the unstoppable Veldar war machine. The city, built on the spine of a mighty river, stood as the last defense of a dying empire.

As Führer Von Klaus’s forces inched ever closer, Vardovia’s Tsar Mikhail Romanov prepared his last stand. His military had suffered immense losses, but Vardovia was not yet defeated. The Tsar knew that Veldar had the advantage in technology and strategy, but there was one thing Vardovia still had in abundance: manpower.

In a final act of desperation, Tsar Mikhail gathered every able-bodied man and woman left in the empire. Millions of soldiers, many untrained and armed with outdated weapons, were conscripted into service. He knew that they could not win through tactics or technology alone, but sheer numbers might overwhelm Veldar’s forces. It was a gamble—the largest military gamble in history.

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Three days later, outside Novograd.

The sky above the capital was dark with storm clouds, and the cold wind howled across the snow-covered plains. The Veldar forces had already breached the outer defenses, and their Königslöwes crushed everything in their path. Behind them, infantry units marched in perfect formation, their automatic rifles at the ready, prepared to annihilate any resistance.

But the Vardovians were waiting.

In the dense forests surrounding the capital, millions of Vardovian soldiers had gathered, hidden from view, as silent as the falling snow. Their uniforms were mismatched and their weapons outdated, but their resolve was unshakable. They had one simple goal: overwhelm Veldar’s forces with the sheer weight of their numbers.

As the Veldar tanks rumbled closer to the city, the silence was broken by the sound of trumpets. From the woods came a roar—millions of Vardovian soldiers, all charging forward in unison. It was a sight never before seen in modern warfare. An entire nation’s worth of soldiers flooded onto the battlefield, a living tide of bodies rushing toward the Veldar frontlines.

The Veldar soldiers reacted immediately, their training kicking in. Machine guns fired into the oncoming horde, cutting down dozens, then hundreds, of Vardovians. But for every man that fell, two more took their place. The Veldar infantry, for all their firepower, could not stem the tide of humanity charging at them.

And then, the Königslöwes opened fire.

Explosions ripped through the Vardovian ranks as the tanks unleashed their full firepower. Entire battalions were obliterated in seconds. Flamethrowers mounted on the Königslöwes sprayed fiery death, incinerating wave after wave of Vardovian infantry. Still, they pressed forward. For every dozen that fell, another dozen climbed over their bodies to keep advancing.

The Vardovian strategy was simple but terrifyingly effective: overwhelm the enemy with sheer numbers. The Veldar infantry, elite and well-trained, was unprepared for the scale of the assault. They began to fall back, struggling to hold their positions as the Vardovians surged forward. Even the Königslöwes, powerful as they were, could not kill fast enough to stop the millions of soldiers charging at them.