Chronicles of Two Powers

Chapter 21 - No Country for Old Men

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11:30 | 23:30 Hours

"Behind me, Japanese forces are laying down heavy machine-gun fire toward the Aetesian position," the reporter shouted over the chaos, his voice strained against the roar of gunfire. "This is part of a joint assault with Alervon Royal troops to clear what's believed to be an elite Aetesian garrison."

The camera shook as distant explosions rolled across the battlefield. Closer in, the sharp crack of rifles and the stutter of automatic fire filled the air, drowning out most of what he said. Dirt and debris kicked up around them, each impact a grim reminder of how thin their cover was.

The reporter crouched low in his PSGT helmet and body armour, the word "PRESS" stencilled in bold white across his chest. He was no soldier, but out here, that line meant little. Embedded with the Coalition media unit, he wasn't alone; crews from CNN and NHK World-Japan huddled nearby, their cameras rolling, lenses catching every frantic second of the Ulmer Fortress operation.

Japanese Ground Self-Defence troops scrambled for what little protection the shallow depression offered, rounds snapping overhead. Some fired back in quick bursts; others hugged the dirt, waiting for the next order.

And then, cutting through the chaos, came laughter.

The reporter turned. Royal Marines of the Alervon Kingdom moved forward in their dark blue combat gear, glossy flak armour glinting. They laughed, actually laughed, as they advanced, rifles at the ready, as if the battlefield was nothing more than a training ground. It was unsettling. To the Coalition troops, it felt almost unreal, these men striding through hell with shit-eating grins on their faces.

The firefight was brief. The position was taken.

Cameras captured every step as the unit pushed forward, boots pounding through muddy trench lines. The world's eyes were fixed firmly on the front line. The image jolted with every step, the lens shaking as the cameraman kept pace.

From the slope, armoured vehicles rumbled into view, Type-10 main battle tanks alongside Type-16 Wheeled Gun Carriages. Their 105mm guns swung toward the fortress, motors whining as targeting systems locked in.

Then,

BOOM.

A tracer shot streaked across the sky like a firefly before exploding on impact. Seconds later, heavy bursts from a Type-89 Infantry Fighting Vehicle joined in, its 35mm autocannon hammering the fortress.

DUSH-DUSH-DUSH!

Dust flies, shockwaves are felt, and the camera aims over the fortress they are suppressing. Against retaliatory fire from the nonexistent artisan, they advance close. Live broadcasts of the morning offensives. Dust clouds rose with each strike. Shockwaves rippled through the ground. The camera swung, framing the battered enemy position as suppressive fire intensified. Coalition forces pressed forward, closing in under the cover of the barrage.

Live broadcasts streamed the Southern Offensive in real time. Across the Aetesian mainland, cities were burning, and fortifications were collapsing. With the Aetesian Imperial Fleet wiped out, a grand coalition of Russians, Japanese, Hindoes, and Alervons surged inland in a sweeping invasion.

It felt surreal. This wasn't grainy Gulf War footage dug out of an archive. It was now. No jury-rigged drones. No FPV strikes. Just tanks, artillery, and men in formation. The kind of war he thought the world had left behind.