Trenches, Guns, and Magic

Morin stared at that special unit card icon on the system interface, remaining silent for nearly half a minute.

"Vampires..."

When the silence broke and this word popped out of his mouth, Morin couldn't hold it in and laughed out loud.

He laughed out of sheer exasperation.

Slumped on his camp bed, covering his face with his right hand, his mind was a chaotic mess for a moment.

The Balkan Peninsula was truly a land of "outstanding people" and "abundant talent"...

Last month in Serbia, he led the instruction unit in a life-or-death struggle against those hairy, incredibly combat-capable "Vukodlak."

Having finally dealt with the Serbian werewolf problem, he crossed the Carpathian Mountains into Romania... only to find vampires waiting for him here?

What kind of magical continent was the Balkan Peninsula? A bound volume of Grimms' Fairy Tales?

If this trend continued, when they eventually had the fortune to fight their way to Greece, would they have to trade blows with monsters from Greek mythology?

Morin rubbed his temples, forcing himself to calm down.

Complaining was one thing, but the necessary work couldn't be ignored.

After confirming via the system map that the "Taube" reconnaissance aircraft had left the airspace over Bucharest and was returning to base, Morin redirected his attention to the pile of new entries popped up by the system.

First was the [Intelligence] interface.

Several pieces of information were listed clearly.

Item One: King Ferdinand I of Romania accepted a certain "ancient legacy," the specific origin pointing to a ruler in Wallachian history named Vlad III.

Item Two: A secret society named "Bloodstone" is using Ferdinand I's mutated blood to mass-convert "Blood Thralls" within the city.

Item Three: The converted Blood Thralls must consume fresh blood daily to maintain their condition; otherwise, they will experience an out-of-control symptom called "Blood Depletion Syndrome," violently attacking all living creatures.

Morin read these three items back and forth twice.

"So this bunch is using the King's blood to mass-produce some monster unit similar to 'Vukodlak'?"

"Absurd."

Morin couldn't help but mutter a complaint.

Why did he always run into these things?

From the undead scourge and underground laboratory in Paris, to the werewolf troops in Serbia, and now vampires popping up in the Kingdom of Romania...

He sometimes genuinely suspected if there was some special trait in his "character attributes" that made him constantly encounter these events.

If his soul had transmigrated into the Crusaders of the Papal State, fighting these dark creatures of folklore every day, his promotion speed would probably double.

He'd probably be a "Half-Step Living Saint" by now...

Of course, complaining aside, he still had to face reality.

Morin stroked his chin, quickly catching a crucial point from this information.

"Blood Thralls need to consume fresh blood daily."

This meant the maintenance cost for these Blood Thralls was extremely high, and there was a hard time window—once the blood supply was cut off, these guys would turn into madmen attacking friend and foe indiscriminately.

"Did a blind cat really find a dead mouse with this siege?"

Morin couldn't help but mutter to himself.

His initial choice to "besiege without attacking" was more out of consideration for limited troop strength and waiting for reinforcements; it was a strategy.

But looking at it now, this strategy coincidentally pinched the "seven inches" (Achilles' heel) of those "vampires" in the city.

A siege meant supplies were cut off. Supplies cut off meant the blood supply in the city would eventually dry up.

When that time came, these Blood Thralls would either go mad from hunger and fight amongst themselves, or be treated as a threat and purged by the Bucharest defenders.

However, Morin didn't celebrate too early; instead, he felt somewhat heavy-hearted, because during the time before it "dried up," the civilians in the city would suffer.

After all, he was a normal person, not some psychopath... The civilians of this world were dragged into this war purely because of the decisions of the higher-ups.

And what would those civilians who hadn't evacuated the city be considered in the eyes of those Blood Thralls right now?

The answer seemed all too obvious.

Morin sat up on his camp bed and switched the system interface to the [Information] page.

There were many entries. He scanned through them one by one, finally stopping at the entry for "Voivode of Wallachia - Vlad III."

Entering the details of this entry, Morin also saw the alias familiar to the world: "Drăculea." In Romanian, it translates to "Son of the Dragon."

This title was mainly because his father, Vlad II, joined the "Order of the Dragon" and obtained the official title of "Dragon Knight," so outsiders also called Vlad III the Son of the Dragon.

But in another world, "Dracula," derived from "Drăculea," had become synonymous with vampires...

The content of the entry wasn't short. Morin spent a few minutes reading it from beginning to end.

According to the account given in this entry, this Vlad III was once the vanguard of the Catholic world defending against the "Westward March" of the pagans, even bestowed the title "Shield of Christ" by the Vatican.

But at that time, Wallachia was weak, while the pagans not only had massive troop strength but also extensively used some sort of "alchemy" to boost their army's combat power, sweeping their forces across the Balkans.

Even with direct support from other Catholic nations and the Holy See, Vlad III's army still couldn't completely halt the enemy's advance.

Later, at a critical juncture, Vlad III used a mysterious ancient ritual to obtain a series of powerful abilities.

Including but not limited to massive physical enhancement; comprehensive improvements in strength, speed, and perception; and an attack method of some sort of "blood magic." One could say he directly became a 15th-century superman.

But the price was that he needed to consume fresh blood to maintain sufficient combat power.

Relying on this power boost, Vlad III nearly repelled the pagans' advance with his personal might, defending the eastern gate of Europa.

And his action of impaling prisoners of war on the front lines, setting up a "forest of corpses," earned him a nickname from the pagans—"Vlad the Impaler."

Morin continued reading.

After the pagans temporarily retreated, Vlad III was unwilling to continue consuming human blood.

But without the supply of blood, his physical and mental state deteriorated rapidly... becoming weak, irritable, and even experiencing intermittent bouts of madness.

The royal palace dismissed all servants, leaving only his queen.

Legends of "vampires" also began circulating among the people of Wallachia.

Until later, when the rested and reorganized pagans made a comeback. Vlad III's queen offered all her blood to him, and the Voivode, filled with grief, led his troops into battle.

In the decisive battle, the joint forces of Wallachia and the Catholic world fell into a bitter struggle. To turn the tide, Vlad III unleashed his full power, completely descending into madness.

Although the allied forces repelled the pagans once again, they had to pay a massive price, surrounding and killing Vlad III, who had become a monster.

Shortly after Vlad III died in battle, a squad of Papal Paladins secretly transported his only surviving heart via a Black Sea port to Naples and completely sealed it away.

After the death of the "Impaler," a group of his die-hard followers secretly preserved a portion of his blood, worshipped it, and eventually formed a secret society named "Bloodstone."

What surprised Morin even more was that the system's [Information] showed a large portion of the members of this society were actually Boyar nobles from ancient Rus—the predecessor of this world's Russian Empire.

Nobles of ancient Rus ran to Romania to start a vampire cult?

However, Boyar nobles were a feudal noble class present in both ancient Rus and Wallachia. The Boyars on both sides shared countless ties, so this did make sense...

As for "Blood Thralls," the definition in the entry was also very clear:

A kind of lesser creature converted by the power of the "Impaler," once used as combat weapons against the pagans.

After Vlad III died, that batch of Blood Thralls, who had achieved illustrious military merits, were also exterminated.

But now... someone had reactivated this "production line."

Morin closed all system interfaces and stared blankly for a good while.

He wasn't familiar with Romanian history from the world before his transmigration. His impression of Vlad III was mostly stuck on Bram Stoker's "Count Dracula."

A purely fictional literary character.

But in this world, fiction had become official history, and legends had become factual records.

"Am I fighting a World War, or am I playing Castlevania..."

Morin muttered a sentence in a low voice that no second person in this world could understand, then stood up from his camp bed.

There was too much in his head; he needed to find someone to talk to.

Although he couldn't mention the existence of the system to anyone, some things could be verified in another way.

He walked out of his tent, heading straight for the Kampfgruppe's temporary command post.

Inside the command post tent, Kleist was sitting at a folding table handling official business, several telegrams and logistics reports spread out before him.

Remembering that this man was also an "academic overachiever" with good history grades, Morin walked up to Kleist, dragged him outside the tent, and found a secluded spot.

"Kleist, I have some questions I'd like to consult you about."

Hearing Morin's words, Kleist thought Morin had some special problem needing his consultation and listened attentively.

"Commander, please speak."

"Have you ever heard the legend of the vampire? Specifically the story of 'Vlad the Impaler' here in Romania."

Kleist froze.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and after confirming he hadn't misheard, his entire face was written with confusion.

He never expected that, at a juncture where the trenches outside the city weren't even finished digging and the supply lines weren't fully stabilized, his superior would suddenly start chatting with him about Romanian folklore.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious."

Morin's expression showed not the slightest hint of joking.

Kleist hesitated for another two seconds, but he knew Morin was indeed not a man prone to joking.

But this topic leap was simply too drastic; the jump from military command to folklore was so vast he couldn't react for a moment.

Confirming that this commander with a highly variable operational style truly wasn't messing with him, Kleist cleared his throat.

"I know a little... but in my view, much of it is likely artistic embellishment or unverified unofficial history."

"That's fine, go ahead and tell me."

Kleist's version of the story of Vlad III roughly matched what Morin read in the system's [Information] interface. Only the versions had some discrepancies.

In Kleist's narrative, Vlad III was an extremely cruel ruler.

"This man is most famous for the extreme methods he used when resisting the pagan invasion... impaling prisoners of war alive on wooden stakes, setting up swathes of 'forests of corpses' at the front lines of the battlefield to terrify the invading enemy forces."

"So the pagans gave him a title: 'Vlad the Impaler'."

Kleist leaned against a nearby staff car, arms crossed over his chest. His flat tone sounded more like he was reciting a history lesson that had nothing to do with him.

"As for the 'vampire' claims... legend has it he used some dark magic or forbidden ritual, requiring the price of human blood to gain extraordinary combat power."

"The versions circulating among the people are quite exaggerated, saying he could single-handedly hold off armies of thousands, was invulnerable to blades and spears, and was so fast the naked eye couldn't track him."

"And then?"

"And then... he went mad."

Kleist shrugged.

"It's said that after repelling the pagans, he turned into a half-human, half-demon monster. He began slaughtering even his own allies, even impaling the Holy See's Crusaders... Ultimately, the allied forces of the Catholic nations had to turn around and encircle him."

"The allied forces paid a heavy price to kill him."

"As for the corpse, its whereabouts are unknown. The current mainstream theory is that it was directly incinerated by the allied forces at the time."

"There are professors in the Empire's universities who study Balkan history and folklore."

Kleist added in the tone of "academic discussion":

"They generally believe that the so-called 'vampire' is merely a projection of the ignorant medieval populace's fear of Vlad III's cruel rule. Vlad III likely acquired some spellcasting abilities at the time, but not to the extent of becoming a so-called 'vampire'."

Morin was silent for a moment.

Kleist's version largely corroborated the contents of the system information, differing only in perspective.

The system provided something closer to a "neutral narrative," while the Saxon version relayed by Kleist characterized Vlad III as a madman who used forbidden power.

"Colonel, why did you suddenly ask about this?"

Kleist's expression slowly shifted from confusion to alertness. Having worked with Morin for so long, he had more or less picked up a few things. This deputy knew the operational style of the young colonel before him all too well...

The other party never made idle chat for no reason. Behind every seemingly casual sentence, there was often a specific purpose.

However, Morin merely waved his hand.

"Since we're in Romania, there's no harm in learning a bit more about the local customs, right?"

Kleist stared at him for several seconds.

"I have the feeling you're not just learning about local customs..."

"Oh, Kleist, you just like to overthink things."

Morin patted the other man's shoulder, cleanly changing the subject.

Although full of suspicion, the other man didn't press further. Instead, he asked Morin to wait a moment and turned back into the tent.

Soon, he walked out holding a telegram paper and handed it to Morin.

"Right on time, I was planning to come find you too."

"This is the telegram just sent from the rear... our supplies might be delayed by one to two days. But I calculated it, and it shouldn't be a big problem..."

Morin took the telegram paper, scanned it, and frowned.

"Delayed? What's the reason?"

"The rear didn't fully explain."

Kleist's tone carried a hint of helplessness.

"They only said the Empire currently has large-scale military operations, and transport routes need to have their priorities re-coordinated."

Morin clicked his tongue, his face looking displeased.

The Kampfgruppe was now an isolated force deep in enemy territory. Although the supply line from the Predeal Pass to Ploiești had been opened, the operational efficiency of the mountain road corridor was inherently poor.

Aerial transport by the L15 armored airship after it returned to base also required turnaround time. Now ground supplies were delayed too... The size of his force wasn't small. Even though they carried sufficient supplies, the consumption of materials ultimately wouldn't be delayed just because supplies were delayed.

"Large-scale military operations of the Empire..."

Just as Morin was pondering what this meant, a new notification quietly popped up on his system's [Intelligence] page.

[The Saxon Imperial Army's Eighth Army Group is marching to the East Saxon border.]

[Army Group Commander -- Paul von Hindenburg]

[Army Group Chief of Staff -- Erich Ludendorff]

Morin's movements paused slightly. Hindenburg, Ludendorff...

The "Hinden-dorff Duo" of the Eastern Front, after being delayed for so long, had finally arrived.

Morin finally understood why the supplies were delayed.

Prior to this, the Saxon Empire's eastern border had been held by the "West Russian Provisional National Government."

This provisional regime supported by the Saxon Empire was responsible for confronting the Kolchak-Denikin allied forces, which were backed by the Britannians and Gauls, on the Eastern Front.

Oh wait, now probably only the Britannians were left supporting them.

But clearly, perhaps due to Kolchak and company "overperforming," the West Russian Provisional National Government still couldn't hold on.

This forced the Saxon Empire to dispatch troops personally, redeploying an entire Army Group to the east. The Empire's logistical transport capacity would definitely undergo massive adjustments to support troop movements at the Army Group level.

Under these circumstances, delaying supplies to a Kampfgruppe in the Balkans for a day or two was entirely justifiable.

The scale of this war didn't shrink because the Gallic Republic withdrew; rather, it continued to expand.

Both the Saxons and the Britannians had begun "multi-tasking," waiting for the other to expose a flaw first.

Western Front, Balkans, Eastern Front, Mediterranean, and North Africa... This was a massive chess game, with each side playing several moves simultaneously.

Thinking of this, Morin couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

His "besiege without attacking" strategy had originally been executed perfectly. The Kampfgruppe built a beautiful ring of positions around Bucharest, successfully drawing Romanian troops from the Bulgarian front line to return and reinforce.

The Crown Prince and the Fifth Army Group were also about to make a move on Belgrade.

According to Morin's original vision, once the follow-up reinforcing artillery regiments arrived and the L15 armored airship flew back with supplies and personnel, the Kampfgruppe could unhurriedly launch its next move.

But now...

Supplies delayed by one to two days, and a nest of vampires holed up in the city.

With these two things stacked together, the variables were huge.

The special situation inside the city brought back some bad memories. Morin uncontrollably recalled the mountains of corpses and seas of bones within Paris.

"Colonel?"

Noticing Morin's expression suddenly change, Kleist called out with a hint of concern.

Morin snapped out of it and took a deep breath.

"Kleist, I need a plan."

"What plan?"

"A reconnaissance plan regarding the situation inside Bucharest."

Kleist was clearly stunned.

Just this morning at the meeting, Morin had explicitly stated there was no rush for deep reconnaissance into the city, adopting "besiege without attacking" as the basic strategy. Now, only a few hours later, why the change?

However, it wasn't Kleist's first day working with Morin. He had seen the other party suddenly adjust course more than once, and looking back after each instance, it was always because the battle situation had undergone some changes...

"Alright, I'll go back and draft a plan with Manstein."

Kleist nodded. After taking two steps, he stopped again and turned to look at Morin.

"Commander, do you have any special requirements for this reconnaissance mission?"

"Only one requirement—I need to personally lead the reconnaissance."

Kleist almost cried: "Commander, you're going personally again?"

"Mhm~ Is it inappropriate?"

Morin's tone was very casual, just like when he said "I need a plan" just now, sounding as if he were stating a matter of course.

But the expression on Kleist's face didn't look like he was hearing a matter of course.

"Commander, this is highly inappropriate!"

Kleist turned fully around, standing ramrod straight with a serious expression, looking at Morin.

"You are the supreme commander of the entire Kampfgruppe, a force of over ten thousand men! All operational plans and command decisions rest on you! If you go conduct reconnaissance behind enemy lines and an accident happens..."

"Who in this Kampfgruppe do you think is more suitable for this job than me?"

Morin cut him off. This statement wasn't actually boasting.

In the entire Kampfgruppe, in terms of individual combat capability, Morin, enhanced by the "Second-Generation Sentinel Modification Potion," was indeed at the ceiling level.

Strength, speed, reaction, stamina—surpassing ordinary humans in all aspects.

Coupled with his identity as a spellcaster, even if he encountered unexpected situations, his combat and survival abilities were far beyond what an ordinary soldier could compare to.

Furthermore, regarding reconnoitering those "special units" in the city, an ordinary reconnaissance detachment wouldn't necessarily know what to look out for or observe.

Kleist was temporarily left speechless; after all, everything Morin said was the absolute truth.

But he quickly recalled the scene of Morin asking him about vampire legends just now, and the expression on his face quickly became subtle...

"Wait, Commander... You don't actually think there are really vampires in the city, do you?"

"I didn't say that."

Morin denied it flatly.

"I'm just saying the possibility exists. After all, we've encountered the 'Vukodlak' in Serbia. Preparing in advance will definitely do no harm and only good."

The corners of Kleist's mouth twitched twice.

Of course he saw through it. Morin was just playing dumb with his deputy. He said "I didn't say that," but all the logic of his actions pointed to the same conclusion.

There was highly likely something wrong inside Bucharest.

And it was the kind of wrong that required the Kampfgruppe's supreme commander to personally confirm it.

"Commander, taking a step back, even if there really is a problem..."

Kleist lowered his voice half a pitch.

"You could send an elite squad from the instruction unit to reconnoiter. There's no need for you to risk danger personally..."

Morin: "Ewald von Kleist!"

"Here!"

"Who is the commander of the Morin Kampfgruppe?"

"Speak!"

"Colonel Friedrich von Morin!"

"There you go. Execute the order~"

"Commander... at least let me go with you."

"No."

Morin rejected it immediately.

"When I'm not here, the command of the Kampfgruppe must be handed over to you... You and Manstein staying here is the bottom line. You cannot move."

Kleist desperately wanted to argue, but couldn't find a suitable reason.

Because every piece of logic Morin stated held true. He was indeed the most suitable person in the Kampfgruppe to execute this mission, and someone indeed needed to stay behind to command.

"Then you must at least take enough men!" Kleist made his final struggle.

"Mhm. I'll pick some good men from what's left of the 1st Battalion's 1st Company. Sigh... it's a pity Klaus and those guys aren't here."

Speaking of this, Morin seemed to think of something, then said to Kleist:

"Send a telegram to the Army General Staff in my name. Ask them when they're returning my men."