Alvin's elite squad, bolstered by his magic, was like—
Meshal, the Iron Thorn Conspiracy Group's commander on the front lines, was pleased with how effective his cage strategy had been.
His steady, methodical approach had rendered the Rebel Army's greatest strengths—flanking maneuvers, encirclement, and luring the enemy deep into their territory—completely useless.
Instead, the Rebel Army had to launch every attack from the front. But waiting for them were bombers from several air squadrons and the armored corps' military fortresses. In just a few days, the Rebel Army had suffered catastrophic losses!
As time went on, an even more serious problem emerged.
The Rebel Army's resources, manpower, and morale had suffered near-annihilating blows. And just as Gork and the other commanders had predicted, their room to maneuver was rapidly shrinking!
Looking at the holographic battle map, with the few scattered blue dots inside the densely packed red wall of his own forces, Meshal could almost see the future. In seven days at most, he would completely wipe out the Rebel Army!
Of course, it hadn't come without a price.
This steady, methodical strategy placed an enormous burden on supply transport from the rear, and had already drawn the ire of many nobles.
They believed that dealing with a mere rebel army called for simply crushing them head-on. Why go to such lengths and proceed so cautiously?
But to Meshal, these nobles weren't just ignorant. They were utterly foolish.
This was war!
And in war, the goal was victory. For victory, he was willing to pay any price.
As for the resources they'd lost?
It didn't matter. Once he had crushed these rebels, he would squeeze what they'd lost out of those beasts tenfold, a hundredfold, even a thousandfold!
"Report!"
"Urgent report!"
Suddenly, an ear-piercing voice shattered Meshal's good mood. He