Arc of Fire

Chapter 33

Wang Zhong was actually dreaming at this moment.

He dreamed he had returned to the real world, carrying New Year goods as he entered the neighborhood where he grew up.

But all the neighbors in the community were mutilated beyond recognition.

He dreamed of reaching his apartment building, where Uncle Zhao who used to play chess downstairs now only had half a head left.

Strangely, Wang Zhong wasn't frightened by these mutilated figures - it all seemed perfectly normal, just part of everyday scenery.

He went upstairs to his door and saw his parents putting up the character "Fu" for good fortune.

His father stood on a stool, his left eye a gaping hole with the eyeball dangling out, connected only by a single nerve to the socket.

His mother had a horrific wound on her head, exposing her brain.

Wang Zhong finally sensed something was wrong and asked: "Dad, Mom, how did you end up like this?"

His parents looked at him as if he'd asked a stupid question.

"We're dead, killed by the invaders," his father said.

"You're asking about us?" his mother teased, "At least we have complete limbs - you only came back as a head!"

Wang Zhong looked down and indeed saw he had no body. The New Year goods he should have been holding clattered to the ground.

Then he woke up.

When he first opened his eyes, the bright light blinded him. After two seconds his eyes adjusted and everything came into focus.

He sat up abruptly, checking his body: still intact.

Then a girl's voice reached his ears: "You're awake!"

Wang Zhong's brain was still rebooting - why was there a girl's voice?

Following the sound, he saw a beautiful silver-haired girl sitting by his bed, looking at him with concern.

Behind her stood another girl with braided hair, who seemed quiet and gentle.

Wang Zhong stared at them for several seconds before remembering he had transmigrated to a country resisting the Prossen Empire's invasion.

Then he recalled Prossen soldiers massacring Mrs. Irinichna's entire family in the basement.

His brain still feverish, he vaguely remembered driving a tank to repel the enemy attack in his rage after witnessing that scene.

The quiet girl with braids handed him a water bottle: "You need to drink, Count. You fainted from dehydration."

Wang Zhong gulped down all the water before returning the empty bottle.

Then he stood up.

"Wait, you still have a fever!" The silver-haired girl tried to stop him, reaching to hold his shoulders.

But Wang Zhong said: "I have things to do, Lyudmila!"

Only then did he remember her name was Lyudmila, and the other girl was Su Fang something with a long name.

Finally recalling everything, he switched to Overhead Perspective to check enemy movements.

The enemies had retreated to the Reverse Slope of the western hills. From this vantage, Wang Zhong could barely see some - likely the same forces from this morning's attack.

Their commander was still that one-eyed man.

If enemy numbers hadn't increased, another attack shouldn't be too concerning.

Wang Zhong knew the remaining enemy tanks were designed for anti-tank combat, unsuitable for infantry support - their small-caliber guns with low explosive payloads relied on high velocity to penetrate armor.

Confirming this, he returned to normal vision.

His fainting was probably from overusing the Overhead Perspective - like motion sickness from reckless driving.

Wang Zhong stood up.

Lyudmila hesitated, missing her chance to stop him.

Though unsteady, Wang Zhong strode purposefully from the room.

The stench of blood outside nearly knocked him over.

Piles of blood-soaked gauze, now purple from saturation.

Young female nurses processed the gauze while sniffling.

Seeing Wang Zhong, they hurriedly stood and straightened their uniforms.

Wang Zhong nodded: "Carry on with your work."

Steadying himself, he walked past the gauze mountain through the next door.

The stench here was worse - blood mixed with something indescribable.

A wounded soldier near the door tried to salute upon seeing Wang Zhong but couldn't rise - his left forearm was severed mid-length, the bloody bandage preventing him from pushing up.

Wang Zhong pressed his shoulder: "Just rest."

His voice drew everyone's attention.

All lightly wounded soldiers stood, while the severely wounded struggled to sit up.

Everyone raised their chins proudly.

Those with functional right arms saluted in unison.

Wang Zhong returned the salute belatedly: "Your mission is complete. Rest and recover. Where's Yegorov? Why haven't local carts evacuated you?"

"They have," said a doctor. "All village carts were hired. These are light wounds waiting for the carts' return. Though who knows how many will come back..."

Wang Zhong: "Evacuate as many as possible with whatever returns."

He continued through the ward.

The yard outside held many corpses - those deemed beyond saving at the field hospital.

Wang Zhong instinctively reached to remove his hat in respect, but found none.

Turning, he saw Lyudmila holding his hat behind him.

"Thanks." He took it, opting for a military salute rather than the time-consuming hat-over-heart gesture.

Crossing the yard, he emerged onto Upper Peniye's streets.

A barricade of furniture and sandbags stood there - nonexistent during the morning defense. He must have been unconscious long enough for Yegorov to organize its construction.

Two men chatting behind it snapped to attention upon seeing Wang Zhong.

Someone shouted: "The Count's awake!"

Immediately, all the young men of the 3rd Amur Regiment poured from nearby buildings.

A platoon leader barked: "What's this? A zoo? Fall in! Eyes right-dress!"

His platoon formed up instantly on the rubble-strewn street.

Other platoon leaders followed suit, and soon all Ant infantry defending the street stood in formation.

Wang Zhong's hesitation cost him the chance to stop them. Now he stood awkwardly before the assembled troops.

Yegorov jogged over: "Count, why assemble the troops?"

Wang Zhong thought 'how should I know?' but facing Yegorov's stern expression and the even sterner Chief of Staff Pavlov behind him, he said: "I thought they needed morale boosting."

Yegorov: "Understood. The men already speak of your valor - your speech will surely inspire them."

Wang Zhong clicked his tongue - he'd have to wing it.

Fortunately, as a transmigrator, he had plenty of material to borrow.

Wang Zhong tried to climb a roadside truck but his fever-weakened legs failed him. Yegorov, Lyudmila and others rushed to lift him into the truck bed.

Standing in the truck bed, Wang Zhong announced: "Soldiers! Comrades! We've defeated the Prossen Empire!

Though just a small, insignificant victory, it proves one thing: when we each do our part without negligence or error, making optimal arrangements, we can defend our homeland through war's tempest!

We can defeat the seemingly invincible Prossen invaders!

Even if it takes years! Even if we stand alone!

I know many ancient, glorious kingdoms have fallen beneath Prossen's boots. I know many nations endure their darkest hours under Prossen's heel.

Yet we shall not despair! We'll persevere to final victory!

We'll fight them in our homeland's fields!

We'll fight them on snow-covered ice plains!

We'll fight them in the skies!

We'll never surrender!

Until we drive the last Prossen from our sacred soil!

Until we bring war's flames to their land!

"Until we plant victory's flag atop the Prossen Emperor's palace! Ura!""

Everyone responded in unison:

"Ura!"

The deafening "Ura" soared to the heavens.

(End of Chapter)