This sword-and-magic-and-gunpowder farming fantasy world wasn't supposed to be like this!
You were supposed to raise a Magic shield, then have it relentlessly worn down by my endlessly mass-produced artillery, until it shattered and I rolled right over you!
You were supposed to line up in a Dense formation, stand out in the open, and get mowed down by my machine guns while my artillery carpet-bombed you!
Then you were supposed to get dumber and foolishly taunt me on autopilot!
Finally, on a sunny morning, you were supposed to be crushed beneath my steel tide.
How could you dig underground fortifications and use Earth Magic to raise cover, then defend yourselves with fire magic that had a range of hundreds of meters, along with your Black powder machine guns?!
I can't accept this!
Ah, no, wait. This is a world where Leticia is the protagonist, right?
Then never mind. This is a personal-growth hero's journey.
Lynn touched his forehead and pushed up some of his hair.
He was starting to wonder if fate was punishing him because he was always looking down on how other people fought.
It had set him up against a worthy opponent.
This was bullshit.
Even a World War II army wouldn't be any use. He'd have to borrow some Bunker Busters from an information-age military.
Even if he called in the West Calamity players, it'd probably take them hours—and cost them dearly—to take a single fortress.
Now all he could do was use his brain.
Come up with a tactic that had never existed before—and still didn't exist now.
Bunkers were just that hard to take.
At a steel plant on the Black Earth of twenty-first-century Blue Star, people had fought for 83 days.
Since the age of Cold Weapons, castles, bunkers, and fortresses everywhere