Trenches, Guns, and Magic

As the most iconic tactic of the old Empire—using a wall of smoke to cover the advance of ground troops—it rarely appeared during the Rus civil war following the Empire's collapse.

The primary reason was the dwindling number of War Alchemists capable of orchestrating such "army-level" or "city-level" operations.

Furthermore, the preparation for a massive alchemical array demanded an exorbitant amount of specific consumable materials.

𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

In the war-torn lands of Rus, various factions constantly fought to control areas documented pre-war as storehouses for large quantities of alchemical consumables.

But what one faction eyed, another would covet...

Thus, battles revolving around these locations never ceased.

In addition, warlords like Kolchak and Denikin offered bounties... continuously acquiring various consumables from desperadoes who scavenged, looted, and scrounged wherever they could.

Against this backdrop, foreign military observers had only explicitly recorded the use of War Alchemy once.

It was employed by Kolchak during the decisive battle where he and Denikin annihilated a warlord faction separating their forces, achieving a strategic link-up...

The rarity of this tactic wasn't solely due to the scarcity of alchemists and materials. The main reason was that this specialized assault tactic of the old Imperial Army demanded extremely high levels of unit organization and training.

After all, once the smoke wall rose, the attacking forces' vision was equally obscured. The smoke didn't have a "friendly fire disabled" setting.

If an undertrained unit launched an assault under these conditions, the most likely outcome wasn't a breakthrough of the enemy lines, but rather collapsing into a chaotic mob themselves.

Units scattering, veering off course, friendly fire... these were everyday occurrences on a battlefield with near-zero visibility.

Therefore, the troops launching this new wave of attacks were almost exclusively drawn from the elite old Imperial Army veterans within the Center Army.

These men were the standing army of the Greater Rus Empire before the civil war broke out... Many of them were eating army rations, sleeping in barracks, and running morning drills the day the old Empire collapsed, only to wake up the next day and find their nation gone.

From that day on, they followed their respective officers into the White Army camp, fighting all the way to the present.

The seemingly useless training exercises they endured during the old Imperial era included coordinated maneuvers advancing under the cover of alchemical smoke walls.

As the black smoke billowed from the alchemical array on the east bank and rapidly spread, the elite infantry waiting in their jump-off positions reacted almost instinctively.

Orders from officers and NCOs rang out sequentially.

"Prepare protection!"

"Nose and mouth covered—complete!"

"Follow the man in front! Move on the bugle!"

Soldiers pulled out pre-prepared strips of cloth and scraps of uniform from their coats. Soaked in water mixed with a specific medicinal powder, these damp cloths, now plastered over their noses and mouths, filtered out the suffocating elements of the smoke.

As for eye protection, only officers were issued specialized copper-rimmed goggles.

The common soldiers relied on extensive prior acclimatization training... On the training grounds of the old Imperial Army, they had been repeatedly thrown into artificially created thick smoke, practicing how to maintain formation, discern direction, and follow orders while practically blind.

That training tortured many recruits at the time, but now, when executing this tactic for real, every man wished they had trained even more...

"First Company, advance!"

A sergeant major's voice echoed through the smoke, followed by the blast of a bugle.

The soldiers stepped off, following the blurry silhouette ahead of them toward the riverbank.

Operating in squads, each man held his rifle in his right hand and rested his left hand on the strap of the comrade's backpack in front of him... This was the fundamental "chain formation" for advancing through a smoke wall. Even if they couldn't see a thing, as long as they didn't let go, the formation wouldn't break.

Spearheading the entire assault line were the concentrated engineer units from various regiments.

Already prepared, they dashed toward designated crossing points—coordinates mapped out in advance using rangefinders—the moment the smoke wall formed. They carried massive amounts of prefabricated pontoon bridge components and drove specially trained draft horses hauling heavy wagons.

The clatter of hooves, the muffled thud of wheels rolling over mud, and the hoarse shouts of officers echoed through the dense black smoke.

The reason these horses didn't panic in this environment was also due to weeks of desensitization training, repeatedly exposing them to similar smoke.

Every detail was meticulously planned.

Kappel had spent at least half a month preparing for this day.

The Dnieper River, originating in the Valdai Hills, was fundamentally unsuited for forced crossings.

The river was broad, the currents swift, and some sections stretched over two kilometers wide.

Consequently, the Western Rus Provisional National Government had always viewed this river as a natural barrier to halt the White Army's westward advance.

After being forced to retreat to Kyiv, Chief of General Staff Alekseyev built his entire defensive network around the "Dnieper River Defense Line."

Unfortunately, the Dnieper River's characteristics changed as it flowed past Kyiv.

Not only did the river's width drastically narrow in this sector, but centuries of erosion had formed multiple sizable alluvial islands mid-stream.

These islands not only served as staging points for a crossing but also sliced the otherwise unbroken river surface into several channels, each only about two hundred meters wide.

Two hundred meters... for highly trained engineers, constructing a makeshift pontoon bridge capable of supporting infantry without enemy fire interference... took roughly twenty to thirty minutes.

And under the cover of the smoke wall, this was exactly what the White Army engineers were doing.

When the vanguard of these burly White Army engineers reached the riverbank, they encountered no resistance.

The gunfire and artillery from the opposite bank thinned considerably after the smoke wall rose. Deprived of targets, the defenders naturally couldn't fire accurately.

Occasional shells landed nearby, but those were mostly blind fire, the vast majority missing their mark.

The engineer commander was a lieutenant colonel in his early forties, a top graduate of the Engineering Academy during the old Imperial era.

Entrusted with this critical task by General Kappel, he chose to personally lead his men to the frontline and direct the crossing operations.

Seeing the first wave of engineers arrive with their wagons, the lieutenant colonel pulled the wet cloth over his mouth slightly, exposing his chin, and roared: "First group, into the water! Pontoons first, just like in training!"

Upon receiving the order, the vanguard engineers unloaded the prefabricated pontoon components from the heavy wagons.

Each pontoon was about six meters long and over two meters wide, consisting of a wooden frame wrapped in tung-oil-treated canvas. The weight was kept low enough for four men to carry.

These were the "foundation" of the bridge. Once laid on the water and secured with ropes and anchors, wooden crossbeams and decking would be laid across them.

When the first batch of engineers waded waist-deep into the river, the muddy current immediately tried to drag them downstream. But the men gripped the handles on the edges of the pontoons with a death grip, their boots digging into the mud and gravel of the riverbed as they inched forward.

The smoke was so thick they couldn't see past ten paces. The engineers had to rely on guide ropes tied to the shore and flares shot toward the opposite bank to maintain direction.

Once the first pontoon reached its designated position, two engineers took a deep breath, dove underwater, and secured the anchor ropes to large rocks on the riverbed.

The pontoon stabilized. The second was quickly hauled over and tied bow-to-stern to the first with thick hemp rope.

As the river deepened, the engineers transitioned from pushing the boats to rowing. Upon reaching their marks, they no longer dove but simply tossed heavy weights attached to the pontoons into the water to anchor them.

Every action was performed within the smoke. There were no work chants, no extraneous conversations. Brief exchanges and the tension of the ropes were their only means of communication.

About fifteen minutes later, the final plank was laid on the first bridge section connecting the east bank to the nearest island, spanning less than a hundred meters.

An engineer stepped on it to test its stability. The deck swayed slightly beneath his boots, but it held his weight perfectly.

"First section complete! First echelon engineers, cross the river and prepare to continue operations!"

"Order the standby infantry to advance and provide cover!"

Under the lieutenant colonel's orders, the engineers pressed forward with the remaining bridge components, while several messengers sprinted toward the rear.

The elite infantry waiting in the jump-off positions finally moved out upon receiving the messengers' orders.

The first battalion stepped onto the pontoon bridge in a column formation, maintaining a two-arm distance between each man.

The bridge's weight capacity was limited. Everyone tacitly maintained a steady, uniform pace to cross.

Walking on the pontoon bridge was a harrowing experience. Beneath their feet lay swaying wooden planks, to their left and right was bottomless black water, and above their heads was impenetrable smoke...

Maintaining composure in such an environment demanded incredible psychological fortitude, but these veterans of the old Empire delivered.

No one panicked, no one shoved, and they even subconsciously controlled the sound of their footsteps.

Their boots thudded dully against the wet planks. Combined with the slight swaying of the pontoons in the current, it created an eerie rhythm.

Simultaneously, engineers at several other crossing points were executing the same task.

Kappel and his staff had planned five primary pontoon bridging points, all utilizing the islands as staging areas, slicing the long crossing distance into several short spans of about two hundred meters.

Deeper within the smoke wall, more White Army units maintained formation, advancing toward the riverbank.

These were the most combat-capable troops of the Center Army—the remnants of the old Empire's elite infantry divisions, the core veterans of the 'Preobrazhensky Regiment' and the 'Semyonovsky Regiment'... all units that had forged fearsome reputations during the civil war.

They had not participated in any of the probing attacks against Kyiv thus far.

The troops used to probe the defensive firepower and exhaust the defenders' ammo and stamina were all later-conscripted rabble... either peasants press-ganged into service or former enemy POWs released from camps and forced to fight.

"Gray livestock." That was the private term the old Imperial officer class used for this cannon fodder.

Their lives were merely a string of numbers. In the Center Army's operational plans, they served only one purpose: to map out the enemy's troop deployments and fire points.

The true killing blow was always reserved for the end.

Standing in the forward command post, Kappel listened to the progress reports from the crossing points via field telephone. New updates arrived at regular intervals.

"Bridge One, first section complete. Infantry crossing."

"Bridge Three encountered current drift. Engineers correcting anchor positions."

"Bridge Four fully connected! One battalion of the Guard Regiment has reached the island."

Hearing these reports, the tension on Kappel's face finally eased slightly.

"Are the 'Linebreakers' ready?"

"Reporting, General. Twelve 'Linebreaker' Armored Knights are nearing the riverbank. Once the infantry makes the final breakthrough, they will advance directly across the riverbed."

"Excellent." Kappel nodded, the fist resting on the table unconsciously tightening.

To be honest, even he felt a pang of nervousness at this stage, terrified of falling short at the last hurdle.

During the historical Kievan Rus era, to counter the threat of enemies using the alluvial islands to cross the river, three earth-and-wood fortresses were successively built along the city's riverfront.

This was because in the Kyiv region, the west bank featured a distinct elevation drop, forming hilly highlands, while the east bank was an open, flat floodplain.

This 'high west, low east' topography naturally favored the defenders. Looking down from the high ground of the west bank, every movement of the attackers on the east bank was laid bare.

Provided, of course, that their line of sight wasn't blocked...

Those three ancient earth-and-wood fortresses were utterly destroyed with the fall of Kievan Rus, leaving barely a trace beyond some foundations.

It wasn't until 1667, when Kyiv came under the rule of the Greater Rus Empire, that the Tsar ordered the construction of a new fortification on the largest of the three old sites.

The Pechersk Fortress.

Starting as an earth-and-stone structure, this fortress was continuously expanded and reinforced over the next two centuries.

By the late Imperial era, it had evolved into a modernized bastion boasting a comprehensive fortress system, equipped with heavy coastal defense batteries, and garrisoned by over two thousand troops.

After the Provisional Government took over Kyiv, the Pechersk Fortress's importance was further elevated.

Alekseyev designated it the core node of Kyiv's city defense system. Not only did he install the new artillery provided by the Saxons, but he also constructed multiple covered communication trenches between the fortress and the city, ensuring reinforcements and supply transfers wouldn't be severed by enemy fire.

In the Center Army's previous probing attacks on Kyiv, this fortress had indeed played a critical role.

Situated on the commanding heights of the west bank hills, its batteries' field of fire covered a massive swath of the river surface and the open ground on the east bank below.

Any enemy attempting a frontal crossing would be exposed to its firepower.

Therefore, Kappel and his staff never intended to gnaw on this tough bone from the start.

Use the smoke to bypass it, encircle but do not attack.

Control the city of Kyiv first, sever the fortress's communication with the outside world, and cut its supply lines.

An isolated, unsupplied fortress, no matter how sturdy, was a dead end.

When the time came, they would let the War Alchemists use their arcane methods to slowly dismantle its walls.

But saying "bypass it" was simple; executing it was incredibly complex.

The firing arcs of the Pechersk Fortress batteries faced east and southeast, meaning Kappel's crossing forces had to land outside its coverage area.

Thus, the "smoke wall" raised by the War Alchemists was the key to solving this problem.

When that several-kilometer-long black curtain obscured the entire river surface and the east bank, the fortress's observation posts went blind.

The artillery overlooking the river lost their targets. The gunners could only stare helplessly at the thick black smoke.

Meanwhile, even in the peripheral areas not covered by the smoke wall, Kappel adhered to Brusilov's prior instructions, deploying multiple auxiliary crossing points.

He even committed all his available artillery to provide covering fire for each point.

The forces deployed to these peripheral areas were not elite either, but the abundant "gray livestock."

Their mission was singular: draw the defenders' attention, preventing the forces on the Kyiv defense line from concentrating entirely on the city's direct front.

Thus, at this moment, the Kyiv garrison faced an incredibly thorny situation.

The direct front was obscured by a smoke wall, blinding them. Upstream and downstream, multiple White Army columns were forcing crossings. The defenders had to disperse their forces to respond, unable to concentrate their strength.

Upon receiving reports from all sectors, the Saxon Eighth Army Headquarters immediately deduced the White Army's intent. The enemy was undoubtedly executing a feint, with the main assault axis hidden behind the smoke wall.

But the problem now was that they couldn't ignore the upstream and downstream crossing points either. If their defenses slackened and the White Army successfully crossed, it would pose an equal threat to Kyiv.

More importantly, everyone knew the White Army was brewing a massive attack behind the smoke wall, but the loss of vision left their long-range artillery largely impotent...

Simultaneously, within the Pechersk Fortress Defense Command, communications officers were on the phones with the various gun emplacements.

"Battery Four reporting! The smoke is too thick, unable to observe any targets, requesting instructions!"

"Battery Two also lacks observation. Should we commence blind fire?"

Listening to the reports from the batteries, the Fortress Commander clenched his fists. Standing before a periscope, he looked through the somewhat blurry optics at the sky-blotting black wall to the east.

"Tell all batteries... do not waste ammunition on blind fire! Our reserves are already insufficient, and a brutal battle lies ahead!"

He turned around.

"Wait for the observation balloons or the Saxon armored airship to provide target coordinates. Until then..."

He paused.

"Let's hope the people in the sky can figure something out."

But unfortunately, the "people in the sky" were equally out of ideas.

The L34 armored airship was currently the only fire-support armored airship the Imperial Air Force deployed on the Eastern Front, operating on a completely different philosophy than the Instruction Brigade's L15.

Four twin-linked 203mm naval gun turrets, supplemented by numerous machine gun and autocannon turrets... this armament configuration clearly spelled out its mission: to establish overwhelming fire superiority in any ground battle.

During its time on the Eastern Front with the Eighth Army, it had proven its worth through action.

Every previous White Army attack in other sectors had been blasted to pieces by the 203mm high-explosive shells raining down from above. This paralyzing helplessness of ground troops utterly incapable of fighting back...

Had finally shifted from victims like the Flemish, Britannians, Gauls, Serbians, Romanians, and Greeks, onto the White Army.

But even a war behemoth as mighty as the L34 felt helpless for the first time at this moment.

On the bridge, Airship Commander Lieutenant Colonel Franz looked out the window. He could see nothing below.

From the first warning from the observation deck to the entire river being swallowed by black smoke, the interval was too short for them to react effectively, as the entire crew's attention had been focused on bombarding a specific White Army junction.

In Lieutenant Colonel Franz's view, the speed at which that smoke advanced was completely unnatural. It resembled a "tide" driven by some unseen force, erupting from a source on the east bank and spreading rapidly.

He immediately ordered the airship to climb, preventing any unforeseen incidents if it was engulfed by the smoke wall.

Engines pushed to their cruising limits, the L34's massive hull slowly ascended. From three hundred meters up to four hundred... five hundred... six hundred.

But the height of the smoke also continued to grow, always roiling a hundred meters beneath the airship like a living black ocean.

"Reporting to bridge: Airship current altitude 620 meters. Top of the smoke is at approximately 500 meters... and still rising."

Lieutenant Colonel Franz stood by the integrated comms station, resting his hand on the speaking tube.

"Observation deck, can you see anything beneath the smoke?"

"Negative, sir! It's completely opaque, we can't see a thing... This stuff is spreading too fast!"

Hearing this, he released the tube and turned to his Executive Officer.

"This must be Russian alchemy."

The XO nodded, recalling a heavily thumbed manual in his cabin.

It was a compilation of "Enemy Intelligence Advisories" issued by the Imperial Air Force, detailing the known special battlefield tactics of various nations.

"If memory serves, the Advisory mentioned known battlefield applications by Rus War Alchemists..."

The XO, blessed with an exceptional memory, began reciting the manual's entries.

"'Smoke Concealment Tactic: Utilizing alchemical arrays to transmute matter into controllable smoke... Duration depends on the mass of the 'equivalent exchange material'..."

"How long does it last?"

"The document doesn't provide an exact figure. The more exchange material, the longer the duration... Recorded instances all exceeded ten hours."

Lieutenant Colonel Franz frowned deeply upon hearing that number.

Ten hours... what could the White Army accomplish in that time? Cross the bridge, land on the shore, establish bridgeheads... they had more than enough time for all of it.

And if his 203mm guns fired downward right now, he wouldn't even know what he was hitting.

"Magitech Engineer, is there any way to penetrate this smoke layer for observation?"

"Reporting, sir. Conventional optical equipment is entirely ineffective... Regarding magitech detection, I am attempting to adjust the array frequencies... Wait!"

Just as the Magitech Engineer was speaking, he paused. Then, his urgent voice echoed through the speaking tube.

"Reporting to bridge! Captured ground-level mana signatures! Bearing North by East fifteen degrees... Distance approximately three kilometers!"

Lieutenant Colonel Franz and the XO simultaneously looked out the window in that direction. Naturally, they saw nothing but the roiling sea of black smoke.

"Characteristics? Can you match them to anything?"

"No... Sir, these signature characteristics do not match any samples in our records! Judging by the frequency... it resembles the continuous operation of some sort of magical array."

Lieutenant Colonel Franz's mind raced. A continuous array... That was highly likely the source generating the smoke.

"Alright," he decided. "Whatever it is, we fire a salvo first!"

"Turrets One through Four, adjust firing azimuth, aim for those coordinates and commence fire mission—"

But before he could finish his order, the Magitech Engineer's voice interrupted again, this time trembling audibly.

"Reporting to bridge! Multiple new mana signatures appearing on the ground! Rapidly climbing... Count is twenty... No... Twenty-two! Characteristics match... match the Britannians' 'Magic Crystal Siege Cannons'!"

Lieutenant Colonel Franz's expression instantly warped.

Twenty-two Magic Crystal Cannons? When did the White Army sneak so many heavy magical weapons outside Kyiv?!

More importantly, why did they choose to activate them all simultaneously now?

Lieutenant Colonel Franz didn't hesitate for a microsecond.

A specific chapter in the Imperial Air Force's Armored Airship Combat Regulations stated clearly: When encountering unknown ground situations where the threat level cannot be assessed, the airship must prioritize evasive and defensive maneuvers, and only initiate counterattacks after clarifying the ground situation.

You have to be alive to deal damage. This applied in any era.

"Helmsman, continue climbing! Prepare evasive maneuvers! Magitech Engineers, push the spell shields to maximum!"

Following Franz's emergency orders, the armored airship's hybrid power plant roared louder. The multi-legged heavy propeller thrusters arrayed along the hull simultaneously boosted output.

The L34's heavy hull began climbing at the fastest rate it could muster. Simultaneously, the transparent spell shield covering its surface flared with a pale blue light, signifying the defensive systems had been cranked to maximum.

But an armored airship was not a fighter plane.

With a hull several hundred meters long and an immense deadweight... a war behemoth like this obviously had nothing to do with the words "agility" or "flexibility."

It took seconds just to start moving after the order was given, and over a dozen seconds more to achieve any meaningful displacement...

And on the ground, three kilometers beneath the L34, another combat operation was proceeding simultaneously.

The White Army soldiers guiding the Magic Crystal Cannons knelt on their respective earthen mounds, traces of thick, purplish-black potion still lingering at the corners of their mouths.

This concoction, specially brewed by the War Alchemists, carried severe side effects. Consecutive consumption for over three days led to permanent vision damage; using it for over a week could result in total blindness.

But for a brief window after drinking it, the world in the eyes of these mana-affine soldiers transformed entirely.

Colors leached away; everything grew dark.

In their place came a unique "vision." Any object emitting mana signatures manifested as a bright, glowing outline in their eyes.

The Magic Crystal Cannons on the ground already emitted a cold blue light, appearing blindingly bright to their perception.

But what truly made these guiding soldiers hold their breath was the object in the distant sky.

Even though the smoke wall obscured all visible light, the armored airship's outline was etched crystal clear in their vision... A bright, elongated bar spanning hundreds of meters, suspended over seven hundred meters high in the distance.

Furthermore, because the L34 armored airship was currently boosting engine power to climb and pushing its spell shields to maximum...

Its mana signature was vastly more pronounced than usual, making this target even easier for the guiding soldiers to track.

"Target ascending... Bearing unchanged... Commence correcting firing parameters!"

A guiding soldier roared hoarsely to the gun crew behind him. His hands formed specific, fixed gestures in the air, creating a "frame" that locked onto the distant armored airship. This was how the Magic Crystal Cannons were aimed.

Following the soldiers' guiding gestures and their locked-on positions, the elevation and traverse scales on the Magic Crystal Cannons' mounts lit up accordingly.

All the gun crews had to do was align the cannons' elevation and traverse angles with the illuminated marks.

"A bit higher... higher... Stop!"

"Lock-on complete!"

Similar shouts rang out almost simultaneously across the twenty-two emplacements. Because the gun crews weren't networked, the pre-battle plan dictated that each gun would fire at will once lock-on was achieved.

Immediately following—

"Fire!"

The twenty-two Magic Crystal Siege Cannons commenced their attack one after another.

The moment each cannon fired, the fist-sized blue crystals embedded in the barrel blazed with intense light. A burst of muzzle flash, mingled with magical aura, erupted from the barrel.

A glowing blue "projectile" shot from the breech at a visibly high speed, then soared into the sky along a steep parabolic trajectory.

Twenty-two blue streaks of light breached the smoke wall within a dozen seconds, piercing the black curtain and rocketing toward the higher altitudes.

After passing the apex of their high-arcing trajectories, the glowing orbs altered course, entering their descent phase.

The guiding soldiers kneeling on the ground maintained their hand gestures even after the orbs were fired.

Their hands trembled slightly, veins popping on their foreheads. For non-spellcasters—merely those possessing mana affinity—this was an incredibly taxing ordeal.

Performing terminal corrections on fired Magic Crystal shells mid-air consumed massive amounts of mental energy. Without the potion they drank beforehand, which temporarily boosted their mental fortitude, they would have been utterly incapable of completing this task.

But right now, they were succeeding.

The twenty-two Magic Crystal shells altered their trajectories in mid-air, as if plucked by an invisible hand. Like meteors falling from the heavens, they plummeted straight toward the armored airship.

On the L34 bridge, the warning from the observation deck arrived the instant the Magic Crystal shells breached the smoke layer.

"Incoming! Incoming! High-speed objects approaching from the sky! the number is twenty-two!"

Lieutenant Colonel Franz rushed to the window.

He saw it. Over twenty blue streaks shot out from the smoke below, climbed to the apex of their arcs, then abruptly changed direction in unison, falling right toward him.

"All hands, brace for impact! Emergency evasive maneuvers!"

"Helmsman, it's all on you!"