The ground was riddled with shell craters of varying depths. Some had filled with dust and gravel, becoming murky pits, while others still gave off smoke, leaving a scene of utter devastation. Around them lay scorched grass and trees, victims of the fighting, now reduced to blackened charcoal that released an acrid smell of smoke.
Fragments and wreckage lay scattered across the ground, including metal, glass, and concrete, leaving the entire battlefield in disarray. The scars of war covered every inch of land, every corner carrying bloody memories.
Desolation permeated the land, as though the fighting had stripped away all life. Even the stars in the night sky had dimmed and no longer twinkled. On this battlefield, all the life and vitality that had once existed seemed to have been devoured, leaving only deathly silence and loneliness.
On the southern battlefield, nearly every Fourth-Generation Tactical Mecha available there waited for Dorothy's orders, while the Psionic forces waited off to one side.
"Why are we still waiting? Shouldn't we just launch a surprise attack?"
"Who knows? This seems to be as close as we can get. Any farther, and we risk being spotted by District 25. Have faith in the Federation. The Federation will bring us victory."
But in the very next instant, a tremendous explosion shook heaven and earth. Flames tore through the night, igniting the darkness, and enormous clouds of smoke engulfed the battlefield. Deafening blasts echoed in every soldier's ears, leaving the Fourth-Generation Tactical Mecha and Psionics completely unprepared for the sudden attack.
"What's going on? Why are we suddenly under attack?! Has District 25 spotted us?!"
"I don't know! Where's the commander?! Where's Dorothy?! Why isn't any information coming through the Communicator?! Damn it, didn't they say just yesterday afternoon that they'd repaired and upgraded it?!"
Stunned,