"I thought you'd gotten used to it." The captain's tone held no mockery, only a calm statement. "A few years ago, we were still fighting wars of numbers."
"Now, the higher-ups demand speed, firepower, and coordination."
"These bunkers of yours are pretty good. If it had been a year ago, we really would have had a hard time fighting through them."
"Every time we fought a positional battle, at least dozens of men died. Later, as you became more and more tenacious, we had to pay the price of hundreds."
"Compared with the history of war, casualties like that are very low."
"But if you fight enough battles, that still adds up to tens of thousands."
He pointed at the map. "Your defensive line is very solid—by the standards of a year ago. Deep trench networks, barbed wire, machine-gun nests, artillery and anti-tank support."
"But we've leveled up now."
"You're a vampire, so you receive special treatment. Though this is the era of the Alliance now, we're actually still used to calling the higher-ups by their old titles."
"Grand Commander, Chairman, Grand Duke—there are all sorts of names."
"So, Vice Chairman—oh, I should call her Her Highness Yuffie—you should be able to understand."
"Her Highness has a vampire squad under her command. You might be sent there for remolding, perhaps to seek out your ancestral home. If you surrender sincerely, the lords will make room for you."
Anderson remained silent for a long time. He remembered the Battle of Wuzhong Prefecture more than two years ago.
They had suffered a crushing defeat then.
Yet they had still been able to resist somewhat, to close in and engage the enemy in melee.
They had won through strategy.
That battle had cost them tens of thousands of casualties.
All of them elite