Charge

Mordo rubbed his hand over the crystal saber. Its cold scales met the blazing-hot spine of the blade, hot enough to scorch his flesh. Yet although the Great Chieftain felt pain, he didn't find it unbearable. He felt the power of his ancestors flowing into him with that searing pain.

The saber had been forged from the tribe's greatest treasure, the legendary "Fire-Scale Blade," and high-carbon crystal from an alien world. So Mordo had named it the "Fire-Scale Blade: Strong."

Well, as the bravest chieftain among the Sandfolk, he really hadn't read many books. We had to cut him some slack.

Besides, the so-called tribal treasure, the "Fire-Scale Blade," was actually a naturally formed iron slab containing a small amount of firestone. But Chieftain Mordo stubbornly refused to admit it.

This is a treasure bestowed upon the Sandfolk, upon the Red Lake Tribe, by the gods and the spirits of our ancestors! It represents the courage and glory of the Sandfolk! It is destined to become the sacred weapon of the Sandfolk's supreme ruler.

The supreme ruler of the Sandfolk... What a glorious goal! What a sacred future! What a magnificent moment! This will be the Sandfolk's age! And I will lead it!

Mordo felt a heat rise in his chest, as if the blazing warmth had traveled from his hand into his body. He knew he was getting carried away, but he also knew that once they captured the human city before them, none of that would be just a wild dream.

"Are you ready, my warriors?" the Great Chieftain shouted, astride an enormous Mok velociraptor.

"For Nuwa!" The Sandfolk riders—and, uh, the tank crews mixed in among the swift-dragon cavalry—raised their rifles and spears and roared.

The Great Chieftain looked with satisfaction at the tanks, and at the bulletproof armor worn by his elite guards, the "Blood Lake Guards." Though he hated Earthlings, all humanoid creatures, and even all extraterrestrial visitors, he had to admit their weapons were excellent. It was because he now commanded twenty tanks, five thousand elite soldiers armed with rifles and crystal sabers, and a thousand elite Blood Lake Guards, riders and mounts alike clad in alien defensive armor, that he could speak with such authority at the lords' council—and that he had the confidence to attack Tulong Harbor directly.

Those hairless, short-nosed monkeys only have their sturdy ships and powerful cannons to rely on! Now I have their weapons too, so why should I wait for that bunch of cowardly losers who settled in the city-states to get ready?

I will bathe this human city in blood! Their skulls will become the steps to my throne!

The Great Chieftain adjusted his custom defensive armor, then glanced at his young son, Tutu, beside him. The Sandfolk boy wore red armor that hid his face. A rifle was slung across his back, and he clutched a long-handled saber, but he was trembling.

"Are you afraid, my son?" Mordo asked.

"F-Father, I'm n-not afraid. I..."

"Learn your first lesson, my son: learn to overcome fear on the battlefield. All you need to do is find one living human, bite through his neck with your own teeth, drink his blood, and eat him! Then you'll fear nothing! You will conquer your enemy—and your fear!" The chieftain patted his son on the shoulder, then paid him no more attention. He urged his dragon forward to the front of the formation, raised his divine sword toward the sky, and shouted to everyone, "Today, we'll make soup with human blood! Trample them! Warriors of Nuwa!"

The Sandfolk on swift dragons surged forward alongside the roaring tanks, accelerating into their charge. It wasn't just the Great Chieftain Mordo, one of the leading power-brokers among the "tribal faction." More than ten other tribes, with over a hundred thousand riders, charged at the same time, forming a flood that surged toward Tulong Harbor from every direction.

Of course, no one could say just how much chaos there was in all this. They couldn't agree on when to attack. Soldiers from Tribe A blocked Tribe B's advance, while Tribes C and D got lost on the way and crashed into each other. Sandfolk fired from dragonback to intimidate the enemy, only to shoot their own people; tanks crushed the cavalry riding alongside them. Things like this happened countless times. Still, after more than ten minutes of charging, the Great Chieftain Mordo finally reached the city walls of Tulong with his son and a handful of guards. There, he saw the hemispherical energy dome covering the entire city.

By then, he couldn't even find the chiliarchs under his command, but the chieftain wasn't worried in the least. After all, weren't the people around him all armed tribesmen?

We have more warriors than there are humans in the city. How could we lose? We just need to charge in!

The Great Chieftain continued to rally them. "Charge in! Charge in!" He wasn't afraid of the energy dome that could withstand a tank's main-gun fire. His Sandfolk allies had told him that the shield couldn't stop people. They just had to walk through it.

"Get through that dome, then open fire!" the Great Chieftain yelled at a nearby tank.

The tank started forward, its turret turning as it searched for a target. It didn't find one. Instead, there was a sudden THUNK! Its gun barrel had struck the Great Chieftain Mordo, who was riding highest and made the biggest target.

The Great Chieftain lay on the ground, battered and dazed, his guts twisted in agony. But even worse, he was completely stunned, unable to think. The other riders, Tutu included, were just as dumbfounded. The tank, unaware of what had happened, kept going.

Working in coordination with tanks was a skill, but many people just didn't understand that.

BOOM! BOOM! Antitank missiles that had come from who knew where pierced the tank, turning it into a giant fireball.

The Sandfolk were still stunned, until dense gunfire tore them to pieces.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The city's various defensive weapons began to unleash their firepower, creating all kinds of explosions in the packed enemy ranks. Each blooming flower of flame turned more than ten Sandfolk warriors to dust.

Tutu's swift dragon was dead. It took him a long time to crawl out from under the heavy corpse, then he scrambled over to his father. He lifted his father's upper body, only to find that the man had nothing below the waist. Tutu froze as if he'd been struck by lightning.

With the last of his strength, Mordo shoved the "Fire-Scale Blade: Strong" into his son's hands. He reached out and tremblingly touched his son's forehead.

"Fight... for Nuwa..." The Great Chieftain uttered his final words, then died.

Tutu sat there in a daze, holding his father's upper body. Explosions rose around him, while energy and solid rounds whizzed past. Miraculously, none of them hit him.

After a long while, he slowly came back to his senses and tremblingly closed his father's eyes. He held the "Fire-Scale Blade: Strong," his face full of grief and anger, and stared at his father's corpse. A few minutes later, he looked away and glared at Tulong City. Through the protection of the translucent dome, he could barely make out the city's outline, the flashes of gunfire, or the enemy's positions. He could only see points of light flickering, followed by the shriek of something tearing through the air and towering bursts of fire. They were like the bloodthirsty eyes of terrifying beasts lurking in the shadows, devouring Sandfolk lives with every attack.

The chieftain's son took up his father's sword and grabbed a swift dragon that had lost its rider. He let out a furious roar, swung himself onto its back, and galloped away as fast as he could, in the direction opposite Tulong.

He didn't even return to the main camp. He left the battlefield entirely and fled into the boundless desert.

Tutu wasn't the first Sandfolk to flee, so he didn't draw any attention.

The rout of more than a hundred thousand riders nearly triggered a general retreat. Fortunately, Grand Elder Hesen had prepared for this and sent his most prized disciples to deal with it. The famous Wind Fist, an awakened one considered a god of war by the Sandfolk, appeared before the fleeing soldiers. He swung his fist and created a vortex of wind, sucking dozens of fleeing Sandfolk together and crushing them into a mass of bloody flesh.

Even with psychics holding the line, it took the various Sandfolk lords a full day and night to finally settle their troops. By then, even the most aggressive chieftain knew that without heavy artillery, they couldn't take that human city—not even if they brought another million soldiers.

The Sandfolk army retreated in fear and made camp, not daring to cause trouble for the time being.

Lieutenant Colonel Eleanor Bonaparte had just won a brilliant victory defending the city, but she didn't feel very happy about it. She was furious with this standard city-defense system.

"Why can't those four heavy-ion cannons fire once the city shield is activated? Because the batteries don't have enough power? Ha, Passon? Isn't that company a home-appliance manufacturer? It can make military batteries too? Ah, because it donated to the Governor's Office? Try saying that in the Navy and see if you don't get shot!"

"Why can those four fortress laser cannons only fire at airborne targets? Who designed this system? What, the Alliance's Northern Star Arsenal? Oh, a design that works both against ground and air targets would cost at least a third more? So they bought cannons that could only fire at airborne targets?"

Eleanor looked up at the sky, sighed in speechless despair, and didn't feel like being nice to anyone. She simply sat in her office, brooding.

"Miss... I mean, ma'am, I have good news." Major Dorset came in, saw the look on the young lady's face, and quickly corrected himself.

"If you're here to congratulate me on my victory, don't bother," Eleanor replied coolly, still playing with her whip.

"But I'm not. In fact, I have two pieces of good news!"

"Oh?" Eleanor finally showed a little interest and looked at him.

"We've made contact with Captain Winter of the Hell Paratrooper Division. He and his men have arrived at New Jade Gate!"

Eleanor's eyes lit up and she stood, but then she thought of something and her brow furrowed. "Captain Winter? Just one company?"

How many did you expect? A whole division? Major Dorset acted as if he hadn't heard and continued, "Also, Captain Winter says he's made contact with the surviving soldiers from Garrison Station 12!"

This time, Eleanor's eyes really began to sparkle. Smiling, she swept past the major and hurried off toward the communications room.