Late at night.
Sika Kingdom border defense line, Bastana Stronghold.
Outside the stronghold, a small squad of over ten soldiers patrolled with torches, guarding against small-scale infiltration by Alliance forces. Normally, they did not put much effort into this duty, but with both nations' massive armies now pressing against the border, the constant pressure had forced them to stay on high alert.
They had already heard that the Soma Alliance had gathered a full five Allied Legions on the other side.
A squad had around ten men, a battalion around a hundred, a regiment around a thousand, a legion around ten thousand, and an Allied Legion around a hundred thousand—five Allied Legions meant roughly five hundred thousand troops.
The Sika Kingdom was not much weaker either, having gathered four full Allied Legions. The two nations had similar military structures, but the Sika Kingdom favored elite battalions, reinforced regiments, and reinforced legions, whose numbers often exceeded the standard by several tenths. As a result, their overall troop count was nearly equal to that of the Soma Alliance.
By that calculation, a million troops had gathered along the border. Just thinking about it was enough to make one tremble. It was an unprecedented formation.
Once such a force went to war, lowly soldiers like them could only leave their fate to heaven. Dropped onto a battlefield of a million men, a single person was like a pebble falling into the sea—unable even to make a splash before sinking beneath the waves.
That was why they had always prayed for things to remain as they were. It was better if war never began.
Perhaps that was cowardice, but they were only ordinary soldiers. Victory or defeat, military merit—none of it had anything to do with them. They simply wanted to live.
Yet reality