In a vast, lush mountain range.
All kinds of scouting posts and fortresses were scattered throughout the forest like stars in the sky.
Countless rats were scurrying back and forth in the forest.
On the small plain at the foot of the mountains, tents were packed so densely they almost carpeted the ground.
The Night Watcher Tactical Master—the "Hand of War" Alek—sat outside a tent, his gaze solemn as he looked toward the distant mountains.
At first glance, the entire mountain range seed lush and verdant, full of greenery, if one ignored the foul vapors seeping out from between the plants.
"Those rats hiding in dark corners, and those damned Plague Believers." Even Alek, honored as the "Hand of War," could not help cursing viciously at this mont.
It was simply disgusting.
These rats were downright nauseating.
They had turned almost the entire mountain defensive line into a realm ravaged by plague, and each rat lured into corruption by plague had beco a walking source of poison, a thoroughbred plague engine.
Among the rat hordes, aside from Evil Rats themselves, the Evil God most commonly worshiped was Plague; the two fit together like hand in glove.
The little rats wielded the power of plague with effortless ease, as if born to it.
Precisely because of this, this most troubleso battlefield had been handed to the most battle-hardened "Hand of War" Alek.
He was called the "Hand of War" thanks to his outstanding micro-control.
Through the command system, he could subdivide each unit into different small squads, flexibly reshuffling them in combat, using exquisite micro-control to gradually erode the enemy's advantages.
In such a complex battlefield environnt, this was the perfect stage for him to display his talents.
Even so, seeing the scene before him, Alek still could not help cursing in irritation.
Still, cursing was one thing; action was another.
"Tactical Master, the frontal battle on the open field has already achieved a breakthrough. General Blake is leading the United Legion forward like a hot knife through butter."
Hearing his adjutant's report, Alek irritably waved his hand.
"That's the great plains, layered with fortresses one after another. Isn't it perfectly normal they're blazing ahead? Once they push into the mid-layer fortress belt, they'll naturally stall and slip into a tug-of-war."
"What about the other battlefields?"
"On the City of Glory front, Lord Abis is conducting squad-level operations against the enemy. A massive surge of evil fluctuations ca from there; the enemy has summoned a whole cluster of Apostles."
"That place is a at grinder, not sowhere Ordinary soldiers should be sticking their noses into. Leave it to the Soul Guardians and the Night Patrol." Alek said helplessly.
In truth, that place barely qualified as a battlefield in the traditional sense. The特殊城市 terrain—combined with interference from Chaos Magic Power—ant it could only be fought by isolated squads advancing step by step.
And Chaos Magic Power didn't just affect their own side; most weaker rats were just as easily disrupted by it.
There, the rats could only deploy their Elite forces.
Even though it was Elite fighting Elite, the rats' numbers still far exceeded theirs, just slightly less overwhelming than on other defensive lines.
"The Ravenfort line shows no movent; both sides are still locked in a stalemate."
"That kind of place isn't worth too much concern. Yes, it's technically part of the rat defensive line, but it's too far off to matter. Even if we took that fortress, it wouldn't count as truly breaking their line.
"It's nothing but a filler section they use to pad things out, to keep us from pulling so surprise raid—a casual plug for a small gap.
"Our sole purpose there is to pin down as many enemies as possible with minimal troops, so the fighting intensity won't be too high."
After saying this, Alek went on, "And the last one? How's the situation on the Iron Thorn Plain? I imagine the fighting there must be brutal."
At the question, the adjutant fell briefly silent, then nodded.
"The battle there is extrely ferocious. Our casualties are appalling, though the enemy's losses are even heavier.
"Still, the overall bloodshed is far too great. The battlefield is a slaughterhouse; both the Night Watchers and other United Army units have suffered imnse dead and wounded."
Hearing this, Alek could only sigh helplessly, for once refraining from any Evaluation.
"Most likely the Blood God's gaze is fixed on that place. It was destined to be a cruel bloodbath; there's no particularly good way to respond."
The only consolation was that, under the Blood God's influence, the rats would be forced to keep pouring troops into that front.
The Iron Thorn Plain would beco, outside of the main front, the battlefield tying down the largest number of rat forces, and the rats would keep funneling reinforcents there.
Correspondingly, a battlefield that grueso would yield no small amount of Experience Value for the Night Watcher Warriors, given the influence of the Evil God and the Blood God's ongoing attention.
With the Blood God's temperant, faced with such carnage, he might well intervene with his Power from ti to ti.
He might even occasionally drop a few Apostles down, which, for the Night Watchers, amounted to a windfall with no clear cause.
He was purely an unfathomable bastard.
To be honest, the deity Alek despised most was the Blood God.
War, and the deaths brought by war, were never sothing he wished to see. His passion for micro-control tactics existed precisely to minimize the casualties of the soldiers under his command. It was for this reason he had earned the title "Hand of War."
"Lastly, the n below are getting a bit restless, since we still haven't moved."
At this, Alek glared at the adjutant.
"Restless? What's the rush—are they eager to run in there and sniff those stomach-turning fus? Or do they think spinning around in that damned shit pit is so kind of fun?"
The adjutant looked a little awkward; it wasn't as if he were the one complaining—he was rely relaying the rank-and-file's thoughts.
"But doing nothing can't go on forever. We need to ease the pressure on our allies on the other fronts."
"I know. Haven't we already sent two forces to cut off the left and right flanks of the mountains? That's precisely to keep them from shifting troops to support elsewhere."
As he spoke, Alek sighed again, his gaze turning once more to the distant mountain forest—seemingly erald green, yet reeking with waves of stench.
"Now the rats have found ways to counter our reconnaissance too."
Elsewhere that might have been hard to manage, but this was a mountain forest, the trees dense beyond belief.
With the rats' deliberate arrangents, and the power of plague layered on top, this region was almost completely shrouded.
Airborne reconnaissance units, relying only on their eyes, could not detect the enemy's disposition within the forest at all.
This had, to so extent, shackled Alek's ability to employ micro-control tactics.
And these rats worshiped Plague to boot.
Even if their logistics were cut, they didn't care in the slightest. With the Power of plague, they could survive for a very long ti.
In short, this place was an unmitigated hellhole.
Just then, another adjutant hurried over.
"Tactical Master, headquarters has sent a support operative."
"Support? Just one?"
Since it was support, and only a single person, that individual must possess so special ability, at the very least sothing that could help him break the current deadlock.
With that thought, Alek hastily rose from his stool.
"Co on, let's go take a look."
anwhile, outside the camp.
A strikingly beautiful woman in a blue-and-white skintight outfit was quietly observing the area.
The soldiers nearby kept sneaking glances at her.
After all, her looks were exceptional, her bearing elegant, her presence deeply alluring.
She was like a calm, clear blue sky—fresh and transcendent.
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