Trenches, Guns, and Magic

On the other side, in the Saxon positions, although the battle had ended, the atmosphere remained heavy.

The soldiers of the Kampfgruppe were clearing the battlefield in squad formations.

After the Blood Thralls in the trenches died completely, their corpses turned into a charred, carbonized state. A slight touch would scatter them into a pile of residue, making it impossible to gather any useful information.

What tore at the soldiers' hearts even more were their comrades who had been attacked by Blood Thralls during the battle but hadn't been completely drained of blood.

"Sanitäter! Sanitäter! (Medic! Medic!)"

A soldier shouted loudly while holding a comrade who showed no visible wounds, thinking the other had merely been knocked unconscious by a close-range explosion.

Hearing the call, a medic quickly ran over, kneeling to examine the wounds.

But just then, the injured soldier's body suddenly convulsed violently. His eyes snapped open, but the human light in them was gone, replaced by a murky scarlet.

He let out an inhuman howl. As his mouth opened, lengthening fangs were revealed, and he lunged to bite the comrade holding him.

"Watch out!"

The medic nearby reacted swiftly, kicking the frenzied wounded soldier away, then pulling the other soldier back.

The soldier, whose conversion had already begun, merely stumbled back two steps after being kicked before steadying himself.

Immediately following, like a wild beast, he sprang from the ground and lunged at the nearest person.

"Fire!"

An NCO who happened to be nearby immediately gave the order.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Several soldiers raised their rifles and fired at their former comrade.

But the bullets striking his body only caused him to stagger; they didn't stop his forward charge.

"Use the flamethrower!"

Upon hearing the order, the eyes of a two-man combat engineer team carrying a flamethrower filled with struggle and reluctance.

But ultimately, the flames burst forth.

The roaring fire rising in the trench reflected on the faces of all the surrounding soldiers. No one spoke, but everyone's fists were clenched tight.

Similar scenes were repeated in various sections of the trenches that had been attacked tonight.

Some cried; some cursed.

An old soldier from Bavaria, after dealing with the charred remains of a comrade, smashed his helmet onto the ground.

"Fucking vampires! Fucking Romanians! I'm going to burn them all to death!"

The surrounding Saxon soldiers didn't try to calm him down, not even the highly disciplined soldiers of the instruction unit, because everyone felt exactly the same way.

Another sergeant, a devout Catholic, made the sign of the cross in front of his comrade's remains, then turned to the person next to him and said one sentence.

"These things must be purified... All of them... Not a single one left alive."

No one in the trench disagreed.

For Morin and the soldiers of the Kampfgruppe, although tonight's night raid resulted in over a hundred casualties, it undeniably served as a comprehensive, live-fire assessment of the positions the Kampfgruppe had constructed.

After the battle ended, Morin immediately convened the Kampfgruppe officers of all ranks for an after-action review and summary in the temporary command post.

"First, facts prove that the 'Anti-Vampire Claymore' approach is correct... These explosives containing prefabricated silver shrapnel can indeed inflict highly effective damage on vampires charging our positions."

"Even if they don't kill them on the spot, the silver fragments embedded in their bodies greatly restrict their regenerative abilities, creating opportunities for us to follow up with finishing blows."

An officer from the combat engineer unit chimed in: "Colonel, during tonight's battle, we also discovered some issues with our deployment."

Morin: "Such as?"

"There were blind spots in the coverage in a few directions, which allowed some enemies to slip through... We will make adjustments immediately upon returning to ensure there are no blind spots in our crossfire coverage."

Morin nodded: "Excellent... Also, the 20-kilogram charge of this thing is extremely effective whether used against vampires or personnel. Subsequent production and deployment must keep up."

Besides the first topic discussed, the "Anti-Vampire Claymore," the status of the flamethrower among frontline troops was once again solidified.

The Saxon soldiers had thoroughly tasted the sweet benefits of this weapon.

Whether werewolves or vampires, as long as the enemy was a carbon-based lifeform, they could not survive in the flamethrower's thousand-degree pillar of fire...

Finally, Morin also shared some of his own "combat insights."

Silver cold weapons, if given to ordinary soldiers, might only serve as a last resort for self-defense when facing monsters whose speed and strength far exceeded normal humans...

A silver-plated bayonet plunged into a Blood Thrall's heart could indeed achieve a one-hit kill, but the problem was... ordinary soldiers couldn't even get that close to a Blood Thrall.

However, in Morin's hands, they could indeed unleash greater power.

Therefore, he decided that in upcoming battles, he would increasingly act as a "one-man mobile reserve," ready to support any point experiencing a crisis at a moment's notice...

Over the next few days, the nights outside Bucharest became unusually "lively."

Ferdinand I adopted Major General Van's suggestion and began normalized nocturnal harassment of the Saxon defense lines.

The citizens of Bucharest also noticed that some of the refugees and beggars who had previously wandered the streets begging during the day had largely disappeared.

However, under the current circumstances where the entire city was besieged and everyone was fearing for their lives, no one had the energy to care about the life or death of people from the bottom rungs of society.

Their disappearance didn't even cause a ripple.

And every midnight, Ferdinand I and the other converted officers would gather in the operations room of the City Defense Command.

Simultaneously, an increasing number of Blood Servants, under his command, would crawl out like a tide from Bucharest's sewers, abandoned buildings, and various other hidden corners, moving silently toward the Saxon positions outside the city.

These mindless monsters would launch probing attacks on different sections of the Saxon trenches every night.

However, Ferdinand I and his officers quickly discovered that they seemed to have severely underestimated the reserves of military supplies, especially military explosives and detonators, possessed by the Saxon army outside the city...

"Tonight's attack failed again..."

Ferdinand I closed his eyes, sensing the situation from the distant battlefield through his connection with the Blood Servants.

The sounds of explosions, gunfire, burning flames, and the final roars of the Blood Servants before perishing in agony were clearly transmitted to his mind.

"We attacked the southernmost end of their defense line. The terrain there is complex, which logically should have been a weak point in their defense... But the moment the attacking Blood Servants got close, they were struck by those silver-laced explosives."

"Their preparations are too thorough..." Major General Van muttered after hearing Ferdinand I's words.

No matter which section of the trench the Blood Servants attacked, they would be met with a head-on strike from those high-yield explosives in front of the position.

It was as if the Saxons had armed their entire seven- or eight-kilometer defense line to the teeth with these weapons.

What was more fatal was that over these past few days, the Saxons had become increasingly skilled and methodical in dealing with the Blood Servants' attacks.

They no longer engaged in close-quarters melee combat with Blood Servants that rushed into the trenches like they did on the first day.

Once a Blood Servant broke through the forward explosive blockade and reached the edge of the trench, the soldiers inside would retreat immediately, utilizing the complex structure of the communication trenches and main trenches to open up distance from the Blood Servant.

Then, they would use flamethrowers, grenades, and various improvised silver-laced explosives to strike the Blood Servants from a relatively safe distance.

This resulted in the fact that during the continuous night raids over the past few days, the most successful attack was actually the one on the very first night.

At least that time, they managed to inflict over a hundred casualties on the Saxons.

But now, every night's raid, aside from consuming a large number of Blood Servants, was practically unable to inflict any substantial damage on the Saxons.

"Your Majesty, do we need to change our strategy?"

A converted staff officer asked cautiously: "Simply using Blood Servants to grind them down like this is largely meaningless... The Saxons' defensive system is fully formed. If our attack methods remain unchanged, it will be very difficult to achieve a breakthrough."

"Then tell me, how should we change it?" Ferdinand I opened his eyes, looking at him coldly.

The officer felt a chill under his gaze, but still braced himself and said: "Your Majesty, since night raids have become normalized and lost the element of surprise, could we consider having the city defense artillery provide some fire support for the night raids?"

"Just like conventional infantry attack tactics, use artillery fire to conduct a round of saturation bombardment on their positions first, destroying their fortifications, and then have the Blood Servants attack. The effect might be much better."

Ferdinand I felt this proposal had a certain feasibility, but Major General Van beside him showed a troubled expression.

"Your Majesty, I'm afraid this method won't work."

"Why?"

"Our artillery strength in Bucharest right now is simply too weak..."

Major General Van sighed; he knew the situation of the army's artillery very well.

The Krupp L/30 md. 1904 75mm field guns imported from the Saxon Empire before the war, serving as the main artillery, were limited in number to begin with, and were basically distributed among the artillery brigades of the main divisions.

And the 8 largest-caliber Schneider M1912 150mm heavy field howitzers had gone with the 2nd Heavy Artillery Brigade to the Bulgarian front; they were likely still shelling Bulgarian positions right now.

"Then what do we have in the city now?" Ferdinand I asked.

"Only one reserve artillery brigade."

To this question, Major General Van's expression became even more helpless.

"This brigade is primarily equipped with 53mm bronze guns dismantled from old fortresses, along with a small number of Krupp 75mm field guns we imported from the Saxon Empire."

"This meager artillery force might just be passable for providing defensive support once the Saxons break into the city... But trying to use it in an artillery duel with the Saxon artillery outside the city is simply throwing an egg against a rock."

Major General Van pointed to several suspected artillery positions marked behind the Saxon lines on the sandbox.

"Judging from the intensity of the artillery fire the Saxons demonstrated during the night raid a few days ago, the artillery of this Saxon army before us is nothing to scoff at."

"His artillery completely outclasses ours in range, accuracy, and power... Moreover, the quality of Saxon artillerymen is universally recognized as extremely high. I have reason to believe that once our artillery opens fire and exposes its position, their counter-battery fire could knock out our artillery positions in a very short time."

Major General Van: "Therefore, I suggest we save these precious artillery pieces for when the Saxons launch a general offensive against the city... to provide fire support for the defenders inside the city at the critical moment."

Ferdinand I fell silent.

He knew he could force an order requiring the artillery to support the night raids.

But he also knew Major General Van was right.

Although this City Defense Commander had been converted into a Blood Thrall, he hadn't lost his professional competence and judgment.

In the realm of conventional military affairs, his opinions might not match those of the senior officers of the major European powers, but he was still much more professional than Ferdinand himself, a King who had switched careers halfway through life.

"Then... continue the harassment..."

Ultimately, Ferdinand I made this decision.

He refused to believe these Saxons were made of iron.

As long as the harassment continued, one day they would expose a flaw.

And so, amidst constant probing and attrition from both sides, time arrived at May 27, 1915.

The vanguard units of the Kingdom of Romania Army's 19th and 20th Infantry Divisions, as well as the 2nd Cavalry Division, rushing back from the Kingdom of Bulgaria front lines, finally reached a location about sixty kilometers from Bucharest after a long trek.

Then, the military trains they were riding on could advance no further, because what lay before them was a railway line blasted to pieces.

"General, the situation is very bad."

An engineer officer reported to the overall commander of the returning forces, Lieutenant General Ivan Popovich: "We inspected the railway line for a dozen kilometers ahead. All the tracks have been destroyed, and in more than one place... In some sections, the roadbeds and bridges have also been blown up."

"How long will it take to repair? Bucharest cannot wait..." Lieutenant General Ivan Popovich asked anxiously.

"It's hard to say."

The engineer officer shook his head, his expression extremely complicated.

"We went to a few nearby reserve depots to check. The spare steel rails and sleepers inside had all been looted clean by the Saxons... Without materials, we simply cannot repair it."

"Damn Saxons!" The commander slammed his fist on the table. "They anticipated this day long ago; they are trying to trap us here!"

Under these circumstances, the returning forces had no other choice.

They could only wait in place for all the follow-up units under their command to arrive, then assemble, switch to a march on foot, and advance toward the capital.

But on that same day, a completely different scene unfolded at the Saxon positions outside Bucharest.

A massive silhouette familiar to the Kampfgruppe soldiers appeared over the mountains to the northwest, slowly flying toward the rear of the positions.

The L15 "Lilienthal"-class Armored Transport Assault Airship.

Amidst Morin's day-by-day anticipation, this strategic transport unit finally arrived at the front lines, bringing the reinforcements and supplies the Kampfgruppe desperately needed.

On a wide, open plain about fifteen kilometers behind Bucharest, combat engineers had cleared a landing zone for the armored airship in advance.

Having received the news early, Morin, along with Kleist, Manstein, Paulus, and other key Kampfgruppe officers, arrived at the site early in the morning, awaiting the airship's landing.

Everyone looked up, watching the armored airship, looking like an aerial behemoth, slowly lower its altitude amidst the roar of its engines.

When the L15 armored airship deployed its field maintenance and landing platform as before, the massive cargo doors around the hull opened, and urgent unloading work immediately began.

Morin was also the first to spot a familiar figure leading the way, walking briskly down the airship's boarding ramp.

It was the L15's captain, Lieutenant Colonel Andreas.

"Lieutenant Colonel!" Morin smiled and went up to meet him.

"Colonel Morin!"

The two exchanged a crisp military salute, then embraced warmly.

"You're finally back. If you didn't arrive soon, my ammunition was going to hit rock bottom," Morin said half-jokingly while patting Lieutenant Colonel Andreas on the shoulder.

"Rest assured, Colonel. Everything you asked for is here."

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas grumpily pointed to the massive artillery structural components being unloaded from the airship.

"A full-strength 105mm field artillery regiment, along with its personnel and ammunition... The remaining payload capacity is almost entirely filled with the various ammunition and supplies the Kampfgruppe needs, as well as an even larger quantity of flamethrowers..."

"And..."

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas's expression became somewhat subtle.

"The silver you asked me to get... I mean, are you guys really fighting 'vampires'?"

"Yeah. I'll take you to see the ashes later... So, did you get the silver?"

"Got it. Nearly five and a half tons."

Speaking of this, Andreas let out a long sigh, a pained expression on his face.

"Colonel, do you know how much this five and a half tons of silver cost? When the merchants in the Austro-Hungarian Empire saw the military buying up silver in bulk, they directly doubled the price..."

"How much?"

Andreas stated a figure.

Even a "minor capitalist" like Morin gasped upon hearing it.

"That's so expensive!"

"Not 'so expensive,' it's 'extremely expensive'..."

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas corrected Morin.

"Currently, this expense is billed to the Imperial Air Force, but you have to reimburse me, Colonel. The Imperial Air Force doesn't want the Audit Office investigating our funding with a magnifying glass because of your vampire-hunting expenses."

Morin quickly threw an arm around his shoulder, laughing and patting his back.

"Don't worry, don't worry, money is easy to solve! I'll send a telegram back home today, have them transfer this sum directly to the Ministry of the Air Force... Any problem that can be solved with money isn't a problem!"

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas staggered under Morin's heavy pats, but his expression finally improved a bit.

"Alright, with your word, Colonel, I'm relieved."

"Oh right!"

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas suddenly smiled mysteriously and continued: "There's a surprise for you on the airship this time~"

"A surprise?" Morin was stunned for a moment. "What surprise?"

Lieutenant Colonel Andreas didn't speak, merely jutting his chin toward the airship's boarding ramp.

Morin looked in the direction he pointed, only to see a group of familiar figures wearing instruction unit uniforms walking down from the airship in a crisp formation.

Walking at the very front was none other than the commander of the 1st Battalion's 1st Company, Klaus!

"Klaus!"

When he clearly saw that familiar face, Morin called out almost instinctively.

It wasn't just him; Kleist, Manstein, and Paulus behind him also showed expressions of pleasant surprise upon seeing Klaus and the squad of instruction unit 1st Company veterans behind him.

"It's Klaus and the guys!"

"They're finally back!"

Klaus also saw Morin. He quickened his pace, leading the twenty-six soldiers behind him briskly to Morin, and snapped to attention.

"Report, Colonel! Imperial Guard Assault Instruction Unit, 1st Battalion, 1st Company Commander, reporting for duty with my unit as ordered! Thirty expected, twenty-seven present!"

Klaus's voice was loud and forceful. His eyes were filled with the excitement of returning to the battlefield and the joy of seeing his old commander.

Morin returned their salute, then looked at these familiar faces.

Every single one of them stood ramrod straight. Their physiques were noticeably more upright than when they left, and the aura they exuded was completely different from before.

"Welcome home!"

Morin let out a long breath, then opened his arms and gave Klaus a solid hug.

No more words were needed; this hug spoke volumes.

Immediately following, Kleist, Manstein, and Paulus also crowded around, clapping shoulders and thumping chests with their long-separated comrades.

"You rascal, you look a lot sturdier!"

"I missed you guys to death!"

"We missed you too, sir!"

For a time, the unloading area was filled with laughter and cheerful voices.

These iron-blooded tough guys, decisive and ruthless on the battlefield, were now like a group of children reunited after a long separation, venting their longing and joy for each other in the most direct way.

After venting the emotions of their reunion, the smile on Klaus's face receded slightly. He walked to Morin's side, his voice lowering a bit.

"Colonel, I'm sorry... I couldn't bring everyone back."

The smile on Morin's face also faded; he naturally knew what Klaus was referring to.

"It's not your fault, Klaus."

Morin patted his arm, comforting him: "From the moment we decided to participate in this project, we all knew there were massive risks involved. This is already a very good outcome..."

Klaus nodded heavily, then calmed his emotions and continued: "The Ministry of War provided the maximum pension for the three who sacrificed themselves, and their families have all been properly settled."

"That's good." Morin nodded. This was what he cared about the most.

The two were silent for a moment. Klaus seemed to remember something, and the sadness on his face was replaced by a hint of a mysterious smile.

"Right, Colonel... there really is a surprise on the airship."

"A surprise?"

Morin glanced at the equipment crates being unloaded and guessed: "Is it the new batch of equipment designed for the 'Thunder Warrior' project? I'm very familiar with that stuff; I gave Master Haber and his team a lot of suggestions back then..."

He had been looking forward to this brand-new magitech power armor for the "Thunder Warrior" project for a long time.

However, upon hearing Morin's words, Klaus smiled and shook his head.

"Colonel, your head is full of nothing but fighting and equipment. Can't you think of something else?"

"Huh?" Morin was stunned for a moment. "What else could it be?"

Klaus didn't answer directly, playing coy and gesturing for Morin to look closely behind him again.

"Bro, why are you acting like Andreas..."

Morin complained while confusedly turning his gaze back to the airship's boarding ramp.

At this moment, most of the soldiers had already disembarked, leaving only the empty ramp, while a figure carrying a large suitcase slowly walked out from the airship's cabin door.

It was a female figure completely incongruous with the military.

Long chestnut hair was coiled into an elegant bun at the back of her head, revealing a smooth, full forehead.

She wore a ladies' hat with a wide brim and simple decorations, very common in Dresden.

She wore a well-tailored dark brown women's skirt suit.

Her hands were crossed in front of her chest, carrying a slightly clunky rectangular suitcase. This posture perfectly outlined the beautiful curves of her figure.

Especially the astonishing curvature of her chest, which remained exceptionally prominent even beneath the somewhat conservative skirt suit.

As the figure walked down the ramp and slowly approached, Morin finally saw her face clearly.

It was a maiden's face that couldn't be considered as stunningly beautiful as Cecilia or Patricia, but was very pleasing to the eye.

At this moment, the maiden's face bore a complex expression, a mix of nervousness, shyness, bashfulness... and a trace of joy upon seeing Morin.

When her gaze met Morin's in the air, her footsteps faltered, and two blushes flew to her cheeks.

It was Helga.