Fifty kilometers south of Iron Creek Fort.
The wasteland was despairingly flat.
Sparse, withered grass swayed in the wind. On the distant horizon, a silver-gray line slowly advanced.
It was the Iron Turtle Heavy Infantry Regiment.
Clearly, the regiment's commander understood his situation. Instead of using the conventional marching column, he had arranged his five thousand soldiers into a square formation. Like an enormous steel millstone, they ground heavily across the earth.
Their movements were so perfectly synchronized that even the clatter of their armor fell into rhythm, radiating an oppressive presence.
Veylin stood on a rise, the silver-gray ocean reflected in the lens of his spyglass.
His brows knitted slightly. "These are the so-called 'Iron Turtles'? Apart from their larger shields, why are they only wearing chain mail? They don't even have breastplates."
As far as he knew, heavy infantry were sluggish lumps of iron sealed inside tin cans. Yet the force before him was advancing at an astonishing pace.
"That's precisely why they're one of the Kingdom's finest regiments." Diana rode up beside Veylin, her golden hair streaming in the wind. "The greatest problem heavy infantry face isn't the enemy, but the exhaustion of a long march. If they wore over a hundred pounds of plate armor the whole way, their stamina and spines would give out before they even reached the battlefield."
Something clicked in Veylin's mind. "So they normally march light?"
"Exactly. But in their military manual, 'light equipment' means bait." Diana pointed at the support troops carrying enormous packs within the formation. "Those are dedicated Armor Attendants. The moment combat begins, they can turn those soldiers into steel fortresses faster than you'd believe."
As though to confirm Diana's words, something suddenly changed.
``` [High-frequency enemy mana fluctuations detected.]
Sarah's voice sounded in Veylin's mind.
[Father,