"Why?" Iliana couldn't help asking.
"Because of the initiative." Lynn's gaze was sharp as a blade. "It will take time for the Devil Race navy to assemble. The navy will pull back and preserve itself."
"Now isn't the time to clash head-on at sea. Once they come ashore, we'll harvest them."
"Establish an aerial blockade over both straits at the same time."
"And send bombers to bomb them!"
"Before they complete their assembly, we'll throw off their rhythm and force them to follow our script."
"First, bomb their morale. Then make them split their forces. Your Merfolk Race will lie in ambush beside the navy, while we divide their reinforcements."
"Then swallow them whole!"
Lynn's orders were like stones cast into a still lake, their ripples swiftly spreading into a tsunami of action.
The fleet began withdrawing, returning to port.
The Merfolk Race began returning to port.
At the airfield, construction continued.
Through the Merfolk Race's unique sonic transmissions, Iliana sent word through the ocean: "Upon discovering any large underwater formations, report their coordinates, scale, and type immediately. Avoid engagement and remain concealed."
On the frontal battlefield.
The situation became exactly like something out of World War II.
The Devil Race defenders—those Devil Race members who looked human but had horns on their heads—
Were one of the more populous races among the Devil Race.
They were the most ordinary Devil Race members, and among the lower strata.
Along with the Half-Orcs, who were even lower than them.
They now held standard Bolt-action Rifles or shotguns.
Weapons like those of a Warlord.
But when it came to bunkers—
A typical World War I trench: two meters deep, running in a zigzag pattern, reinforced with wooden planks, its muddy bottom pooled with stinking rainwater.
They had dug them.
Not just one,