5:23 AM, January 6, 2021/4017, Fourth Era.

  Aetherion Sea.

  On a vast expanse of ocean, a fleet was in motion—the 1st Expeditionary Fleet, commanded by Admiral Armandus, tasked with initiating the conquest of this land to bring its glory and resources back to the Empire.

  He stood at the bow of the ship, bathed in the dawn's light, the water's surface reflecting scattered golden shards. He gazed around, where his entire fleet was moving at full speed toward the new land—a place ruled by savages. "What a waste," he thought, "if Papaldia were to use that land, it would surely be more efficient than leaving it to those barbarians."

  Armandus crossed his arms, muttering to himself. "As of today, the Empire will gain a new territory."

  He looked straight ahead. The new land had come into view. Vice Admiral Atla approached and asked, "What are you thinking about, sir?"

  "Nothing," Armandus replied. "I'm not thinking about the savages we're about to destroy. They're merely obstacles on our path to glory."

  "I understand. That's why we've been entrusted with this crucial mission," Atla added. "All the resources allocated to us are meant to seize the resources and people of the lands we pass through."

  "You've got it," Armandus nodded in satisfaction. "It's time. Prepare quickly!"

  Armandus gave the order, and Atla swiftly moved to execute it. He stepped to the stern of the ship. The scene widened, revealing hundreds of ships mobilized in large numbers—battleships, frigates, escorts, and dragon carriers—the backbone of the Imperial Navy.

  The army mobilized consisted of 105,000 soldiers, 600 mages, and 300 wyverns. A massive force intended for expeditions or confronting formidable enemies. But this time, it had been summoned once again to carry out the Emperor's will.

  Every soldier and ship represented the honor and strength of Papaldia. All of them fought for the Empire and the Emperor, and none dared question his decisions. As the ships drew close enough, the wyverns and dragon knights on the carriers were ready. One by one, they left the ships and flew toward the land, marking the beginning of the first major conflict of a Central Asian nation.

  ...

  Republic of Tajikistan.

  Aiwanj Town.

  After being transported to another world, the entire Tajik government fell into chaos along the entire border with China and Afghanistan—now reduced to a coastline with areas seemingly carved away, rapidly forming a new beach. In this context, the Tajik military, along with Russian troops from Base 201, provided strong support in controlling the new border. However, due to the border's length and limited equipment, they were forced to concentrate their forces in key areas, especially in the south, where pirate activity was relatively high, and the Russian military had to stretch itself thin across different shifts.

  Now, the southern region was overseen by the Caspian Fleet and a detachment from the Black Sea Fleet, totaling thirty-three ships for the entire southern Central Asia and part of the old Mongolian border, combined with the Pacific Fleet to stabilize the area. However, due to the vastness of the sea and the region's limited infrastructure, the effectiveness of this force was quite limited, with no significant achievements in repelling pirates. Thus, a number of troops were still needed along the coastline for defense.

  "Today's going to be another boring day," a Russian soldier yawned while eating breakfast on a BTR-80.

  He looked toward the south of the town, about two kilometers away—where the border with Afghanistan used to be, now just a coastline. When they were first shocked by this event, they received the devastating news that they were no longer in their old world.

  At first, it was shocking, but now there wasn't much to worry about; the real concern was the disrupted supply chain. Although the homeland had tried its best to provide aid, there was still a shortage of food, spare parts, and fuel.

  But after the Rowlia War, supplies stabilized. Now, that coastline had formed into a real beach with sandbanks taking shape.

  He took a sip of water, still gazing at the sea.

  "Still relaxing, huh?"

  A voice suddenly broke the early morning silence. He turned to look—it was a comrade, and when he looked behind, he saw others gathering around the BTR-80, not paying attention to this spot but going about their daily drills.

  Rovsky looked at his comrade with a faint smile. "Yeah, still boring today, Ukstin. I want to go out there and see what they call Fantasy; I don't want to be here at all. It's a waste of the mysteries out there waiting to be explored."

  Ukstin nodded and climbed onto the BTR-80, sitting beside him. "Why don't we try going to the beach, see if there's anything interesting? What do you say, Rovsky?"

  "Hard to do," Rovsky shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the three ZSU-23-4 Shilkas—self-propelled anti-aircraft guns—and other vehicles. "Getting out there without being noticed is as hard as climbing to the sky."

  "Yeah," Ukstin nodded, shaking slightly.

  However, he didn't notice the soldiers behind him moving more urgently. They began to feel something unusual. Still looking south, a sudden announcement came over the radio, catching both of their attention.

  "Attention all units in the southern coastal area. An unknown force is landing near Aiwanj. Units in the vicinity, prepare for combat."

  Before the two could react to the information, a massive shadow swooped over their heads. Both stared in shock at what had just flown past—a dragon, a mythical creature from fantasy. Rovsky was amazed as he watched it. "That's awesome."

  But it wasn't over. More dragons followed, flying toward the town. The two looked at each other, realizing they had to respond immediately to this invasion. Russian and Tajik troops quickly armed themselves, their fighting spirit suddenly surging.

  "We can't let them land easily," Rovsky said, his tone serious. "Notify the other units and get ready."

  Ukstin nodded, quickly contacting the commander. "Defensive formation, everyone! Dragons are incoming!"

  Everyone around immediately sprang into action, tension filling the air. They were used to conventional wars, but now, facing mythical creatures like wyverns, they felt anxious yet determined.

  As the roars of the wyverns echoed across the sky, Rovsky felt a powerful surge within him. This wasn't just a battle for territory; it was a battle of life and death, between reality and the mysteries they had never imagined.

  "Prepare for combat!" Rovsky shouted, and the entire army braced themselves for what was coming.

  The nearest ZSU-23-4 immediately fired at the wyverns flying by, accompanied by a barrage of fireballs raining down. The soldiers were caught off guard by this. They quickly took positions with DShK machine guns firing into the sky. A dense rain of bullets filled the sky, targeting the fantastical creatures.

  "Shoot them down!" a Tajik soldier yelled, holding a 9K38 Igla shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missile. With a panicked expression, he ran to a BTR-70. He aimed precisely at the nearest wyvern; as soon as it was locked on, he muttered angrily, "Die, you freaks."

  The missile shot out of the launcher, heading straight for the wyvern—the dragon knight looked confused as he saw a small light chasing him. He tried to maneuver the wyvern to dodge, but it was ineffective. The missile hit the wyvern's belly—it screamed in pain, lost balance, and fell. The dragon knight was thrown off and plummeted to his death.

  From a higher position, another dragon knight watched, his eyes filled with horror as he witnessed what was happening. His mission was to lead 30 wyverns to locate and report the positions of settlements, as well as attack to instill fear, as they had done countless times when other nations witnessed the Empire's might. But this time was different. He was watching his comrades being killed by incredibly powerful bullets—they tore through the bodies of the wyverns and dragon knights, turning them into flying chunks of flesh.

  The weapons he could hardly imagine—things he never thought he'd face. He had thought this would be a simple mission, but no, this was a true massacre. His stomach churned in pain as he watched his comrades being slaughtered, and he was determined not to let their sacrifices be in vain, for every soldier was a piece of the foundation of the Empire's greatness.

  He immediately used the manacom to contact Admiral Armandus—to report this unbelievable situation. After a static sound, a voice responded. "What's the matter, Squadron Leader 3?"

  "Sir, I need to report something extremely urgent!" he shouted, his face contorted as he continued to watch his comrades being killed one by one. "The enemy, they have incredibly strange weapons, as if they're all from Mu!"

  "What do you mean?" the voice on the other end asked.

  "Armored vehicles, guns that can fire continuously into the sky, and arrows that can chase their targets!" he screamed in desperation as he saw a shoulder-fired missile heading toward him.

  Before it all ended, the voice on the other end asked again. "Explain more clearly..."

  The missile hit the wyvern's back where he was sitting. The explosion sent his body flying, and the wyvern screamed in pain as it began to fall. The rest of the battle unfolded unfavorably as counterattacks failed; every time the dragon knights tried to fire fireballs, they were stopped by the ZSU-23-4, wounding many wyverns and forcing them to retreat.

  Meanwhile, on the beach, Armandus was utterly bewildered by the report from a dragon knight, which ended with an explosion and then silence. Then, distress calls from over ten others came in with no response; everything was happening as if declaring, "You're not capable enough." Vice Admiral Atla approached to report. "Admiral, the 34th Infantry Brigade has completed the landing. I'd like to ask if we should use the remaining wyverns on the dragon carriers for a preemptive strike?"

  Armandus pondered, his eyes thoughtful as he looked at Atla. "I don't know what kind of magic or weapons the enemy is using against us. But we are the Papaldian Empire, a superpower. Nothing will put us at a disadvantage or humiliate us like this."

  He spoke, ordering Atla with a tone of disdain for the enemy. "Proceed as planned. I want to see what interesting spoils this battle will bring. And quickly get the other forces to land. As for me... I'll lead with twenty-five elite mages."

  "You get them into position. I'll take command."

  "Understood, sir." The Vice Admiral quickly turned to the others to get them into position with six thousand troops and twelve specialized cannons, along with fifty wyverns ready to go. But they couldn't move inland immediately; they had to wait for the rest of the troops to complete the landing before advancing further.

  "These savages are somewhat interesting," Armandus smirked, stroking his chin as he looked north. A land more intriguing than initially expected, he took out his binoculars and observed more closely.

  ...

  "Damn it!" a Russian soldier cursed, spitting on the corpse of a dead wyvern on the ground. He used his gun barrel to check the bodies, ensuring they were dead.

  He and a few others inspected—even the bodies of the dragon knights. He stopped in front of a dragon knight, sprawled on the ground; he was dead and of no concern. But he was curious about something else—the face and appearance of these invaders. He removed the helmet and was surprised to find that the person inside wasn't human—he looked more like a werewolf, with thick fur and the head of an actual wolf.

  "This is the best part of going through this," he said sarcastically. "Wonder if these jaws could bite my neck off?"

  Another soldier approached to scold him, a Tajik soldier who was directing others and had ordered an emergency evacuation—the residents of Aiwanj would be relocated north until they completely defeated the invaders. He stood up and, along with others, built a small defensive line with whatever could block bullets to buy time before reinforcements arrived.

  After this small defensive line was set up, another announcement was made, its main content being to stall for time for the civilians to evacuate and for reinforcements to arrive within an hour. The announcement was made, and the soldiers from both sides weren't happy with the information. They had just been attacked by a group of dragon riders but, thanks to some available anti-aircraft weapons, they had defeated them, though at the cost of twelve casualties and burning houses.

  "This isn't a random attack," a soldier muttered. "These people are too strange. I wonder if there are more freaks like them?"

  "Not sure, but we've recorded a large force landing on the beach. Be ready to face anything—monsters, mages... anything you'd find in similar fantasy works," the other replied calmly.

  On the beach, the Papaldian troops had completed their landing. Admiral Armandus looked at this magnificent scene—like a painting of war, the essence of the Imperial Army always made other nations wary. In just four hundred years—from a small nation to a vast empire with unrivaled power in Civilization Zone 3, no one dared to oppose the Empire, paving the way for the Great Expansion.

  Now, the same would happen with his significant contribution. Armandus waved his hand to give the order. "All troops, advance!"

  The Papaldian army moved rhythmically forward. The dragon knights controlled the wyverns to go ahead and eliminate the enemy's resistance with a large number of wyverns. This would be Papaldia's first victory in this war.

  Back with the defenders. From here, the soldiers could hear the growls of the wyverns. They were ready with anti-aircraft weapons. A ZU-23-2 team used their eyes to look forward—searching for any movement to attack. Each person's eyes darted around with intense focus, their breathing becoming rapid with urgency as they knew what they were about to face.

  Then, from a soldier's voice, he shouted to alert his comrades. "Enemy incoming!"

  He pointed in that direction. Immediately, the ZU-23-2 guns fired, creating a rain of bullets, accompanied by the ZSU-23-4 firing to ensure the enemy couldn't get too close. And for the dragon knights, they still didn't know what they were up against.

  A dragon knight observed ahead, a small town coming into view. "First target spotted," he said excitedly. "Let's make it burn!"

  The other dragon knights cheered, responding to his words. The dragon knight's eyes were filled with hope for the spoils he would plunder from these savages. Until now, Papaldia had always gained spoils through its expeditions, from exquisite jewelry to slaves who helped build projects at the lowest cost, achieving prosperity that other civilizations saw in them.

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  He raised his hand, preparing to signal the others to attack. But things didn't go as simply as that. What happened next was a display of explosions. Continuous explosions occurred in front of the dragon knights; they didn't know what was happening or how to escape it. Each wyvern flew to avoid the explosions, the dragon knights almost unable to believe what was happening. They had never seen something so absurd, these explosions looked like some kind of magic capable of creating large explosions, greatly increasing the enemy's combat ability.

  The dragon knight from earlier, now using all his skills and experience to avoid these small but dangerous explosions. With his ability, dodging was completely easy, but for his other comrades, it wasn't like that. Many of them had gotten through this beginning and were advancing toward the target.

  He angrily looked at the town ahead, shouting. "Turn that place into a lump of coal, burn them!"

  His words continued to ignite the burning emotions inside the others. The Papaldian Empire had never received any humiliation from the barbarians outside Civilization Zone 3, which was why they were always proud to be citizens of the Empire in general and soldiers in particular.

  "This magic won't stop us!" he shouted, pulling the reins, the wyvern creating a flame in its mouth, from a special organ containing flammable material. It accumulated and, at the rider's command. "Fire!"

  A fireball shot out of its mouth and flew toward Aiwanj. The other wyverns also shot fireballs at the town, creating explosions inside the town, forcing the soldiers to struggle to fight back. But the damage was evident as the wyverns flew over Aiwanj but were shot down by the ZSU-23-4, bleeding profusely, the pain emanating from the giant creature, and it screamed in pain as it lost balance, crashing to the ground along with the knight on its back. The sound of the impact echoed as the monster hit near a house in the town, shaking the ground. Debris from the crash scattered in all directions.

  "Damn it, how is this possible?" a dragon knight panicked as he saw that. But for the defending soldiers, it was different. "Come on! Keep firing!" a Russian soldier shouted, ordering his comrades to continue firing. The ZSU-23-4 guns continued to fire relentlessly, creating a continuous rain of bullets toward the wyverns. In the sky, the fantastical creatures flew amidst the red streaks of bullets, trying to dodge the deadly sparks of the anti-aircraft system.

  At the same time, another soldier quickly switched the radio frequency to contact the higher command. "We're under attack by unidentified flying creatures! They're giant dragons, we're trying to hold the line, requesting urgent support!"

  On the other end, the commander's voice was tense. "Roger, we'll send support immediately! Hold your position, don't let them land further!"

  Loud explosions echoed across the battlefield as a series of shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missiles were launched from the ground. White smoke trails drew deadly arcs across the sky, heading toward the dragon swarm. One by one, the wyverns were shot down, falling like giant torches. However, the Papaldian Empire's dragon knights continued to attack, determined to break through the Russian and Tajik defensive line.

  "We need more firepower!" a soldier shouted while trying to reload. "There's too many of them!"

  At that moment, the sound of engines from above echoed, a familiar yet hopeful sound. A squadron of Russian Mi-24V helicopters appeared in the sky, flying quickly to the battlefield. They were like predators diving straight into the dragon swarm. Each Mi-24V opened fire, launching rockets and anti-tank missiles at the enemy formation.

  Loud explosions and flashes of light erupted as the helicopter missiles hit their targets. The wyverns were torn apart by the destructive power from above, their massive bodies exploding, falling like giant chunks of metal. The dragon knights panicked at the fierce counterattack, many trying to escape but unable to evade the ground fire.

  The Russian soldier looked up at the sky, feeling a bit of relief as reinforcements had arrived. "We're not dying here today," he said, his eyes filled with determination. Even the sounds of reinforcements from behind were clear, the armored vehicles had arrived and would show the enemy the true power of a modern scientific civilization.

  The Mi-24Vs launched missiles that hit the wyverns' bellies, exploding immediately. Blood and entrails splattered, the giant creature screeched in pain before falling freely to the ground. The loud noise from the explosion stirred the atmosphere. The Tajik and Russian soldiers suddenly felt their spirits rise. They were killing a creature that seemed to exist only in fairy tales.

  "They can be taken down!" the commander shouted, encouraging his comrades. "They're just giant beasts! Keep firing!"

  The ZSU-23-4 anti-aircraft guns, DShK machine guns, and infantry rifles continued to fire, turning the sky into a dense rain of fire. The wyverns began to fall sporadically, but their presence didn't diminish. From afar, the Papaldian Empire's forces began landing on the beach at a rapid pace.

  Papaldian warships moved close to shore, forming a temporary defensive line, the ship's cannons began shelling the Russian and Tajik defensive positions. The roar of large shells echoed, the shells whistling across the sky before exploding into columns of black smoke on the defenders' line.

  On the Papaldian side, small boats brought more infantry from the warships to the beach. The Empire's soldiers wore ceremonial uniforms, supported by powerful mages, along with some magic-enhanced flintlock rifles. They were confident they could easily crush the savages of this new world, but as soon as they approached the shore, they were greeted by a barrage of bullets from the defenders.

  "They have strong firepower!" a Papaldian soldier shouted as the first burst of DShK machine gun fire swept through the landing ranks. Soldiers hit by bullets fell like puppets with their strings cut, blood staining the beach sand. Russian 120mm mortars from afar continuously fired, each shell exploding on the beach, sweeping through the Papaldian troops trying to advance.

  One of the BTR-80s moved forward, its 14.5mm cannon roared, aiming straight at the Papaldian small boats and destroying them as soon as they touched land. The Papaldian soldiers couldn't react, many were killed instantly.

  In another corner, a Russian infantry squad armed with AK-74 rifles and RPG-7 anti-tank weapons sneaked behind the fortifications, using the terrain to attack. RPG-7 rockets flew toward the small boats and light armored vehicles Papaldia brought ashore. Loud explosions rang out as the enemy vehicles were blown up, flames and smoke rising high.

  But the Papaldian side wasn't easily defeated. Admiral Armandus, seeing his troops being pushed back, immediately ordered the mages in the landing force to use wide-area magic. A group of Papaldian mages stood in a line on the beach, raising their hands to the sky, muttering incantations. Fireballs and lightning bolts appeared from the sky, heading straight for the Tajik and Russian defenders.

  A massive pillar of fire suddenly erupted, burning one of the ZSU-23-4 anti-aircraft guns along with its crew. The defenders didn't expect such powerful magic. "Damn it, they have magic!" a Tajik soldier shouted, trying to take cover behind a BTR-80.

  The Papaldian mages continued to unleash devastating magical attacks. Fireballs and lightning bolts rained down from the sky, exploding and tearing apart the defensive fortifications. The situation became chaotic as the defenders began to suffer heavy losses.

  "We can't keep this up," a Russian soldier said, dodging a fireball while returning fire toward the Papaldian troops. "We need to find a way to neutralize their mages!"

  "I know," another Russian soldier nodded, his face smeared with soot. He quickly took out the radio to contact the commander. "We need air support or artillery! They have mages, we can't hold out much longer!"

  A few minutes later, whistling sounds came from behind. The Russian Air Force had received the report and immediately dispatched a squadron of Su-25s from a nearby base. The attack aircraft flew low over the sea, heading toward the Papaldian formation. Upon reaching the target, the pilots immediately fired air-to-ground missiles and 30mm cannons, sweeping through the Papaldian troops and mages.

  The Papaldian mages were stunned as they saw the Russian warplanes approaching at terrifying speed. They tried to cast defensive spells, but it was too late. The missiles from the Mi-24Vs hit their mark, exploding amidst the mage ranks, wiping out the entire area.

  "Damn it!" Admiral Armandus gritted his teeth as he saw his mages being wiped out so quickly. "These savages aren't as weak as we thought!"

  The battle on the Aiwanj beach continued to escalate, as both sides tried to gain the upper hand. The Papaldian attacks seemed increasingly fierce, but the Russian and Tajik forces, with their powerful firepower and air support, still held firm. This new world had officially become a brutal battlefield between the modern scientific power on one side and the magic and arrogance of an ancient empire on the other.

  In the sky, the wind whistled through the wings of the Mi-24V helicopter, the combat aircraft nicknamed "Crocodile" gliding low over the beach, ready to provide fire support for the defenders. On the ground, groups of Papaldian soldiers, armed with flintlocks and light armor, were advancing closer to the Russian and Tajik defensive positions. The Papaldian mages stood behind them, their hands glowing with magical energy, preparing to unleash an attack on the Mi-24. They believed that with their magical power and combat prowess, they could neutralize what they considered the crude technology of this new world.

  The Mi-24V roared, turning slightly, the GSh-23L—23mm cannon under its nose began to fire. The bursts of bullets tore through the ranks of Papaldian flintlock soldiers, cutting them down, turning the entire troop into corpses sprawled on the sand. But amidst the storm of bullets, the Papaldian mages held firm, they raised their hands and chanted. As the fireballs and lightning bolts erupted from their hands, they shot up into the sky, aiming straight at the Mi-24V.

  The Mi-24V's pilot, Kulikov, immediately reacted. He pulled the control stick, making the helicopter tilt sharply to one side to dodge the incoming fireballs. One fireball exploded near the cockpit, the heat wave shaking the windshield, but the Mi-24 held steady. However, a lightning bolt struck the tail, causing the warning lights on the control panel to flash continuously.

  "They're using magic to target us!" Kulikov shouted over the radio.

  On the ground, the Papaldian mages were smiling smugly. They thought a few more strikes would bring down the Mi-24V. But they had underestimated the combat capabilities of this machine.

  "We need to take out those mages before they can shoot us down!" Kulikov ordered.

  The GSh-23L cannon on the Mi-24V turned again, this time aiming straight at the mage group. A burst of accurate fire cut through their ranks. The Papaldian mages were torn apart by the terrifying barrage, blood and entrails splattering. Their spells were interrupted mid-cast as the entire group was wiped out instantly.

  At the same time, the Papaldian infantry had taken advantage of the gap created by the mages and formed a firing line. Loud bangs from the flintlocks rang out, creating a thick cloud of smoke over the battlefield. A few bullets hit their mark, cracking the Mi-24V's armor. The helicopter shook violently, but it wasn't brought down. Kulikov quickly turned and counterattacked.

  "We can't wait any longer. Fire the missiles!"

  The S-8 rockets from the Mi-24V launched, flying straight into the dense formation of Papaldian infantry lining up to fire. A series of loud explosions rang out, black smoke and flames erupting across the beach. The Papaldian soldiers were torn apart in the horrific explosions. The ground shook as the explosions continued, turning the entire area into a sea of fire.

  The Papaldian troops, though skilled and numerous, began to panic at the terrifying firepower from above. The soldiers gradually lost control, many fleeing chaotically toward the beach, trying to escape the battlefield.

  Meanwhile, from Base 201 nearby, the Russian Air Force was ready to intervene. A squadron of Su-25s was ordered to take off immediately to support the defense. From afar, the sound of the attack aircraft's engines rumbled like thunder, signaling to the Papaldian troops that the real nightmare was approaching.

  Within minutes, the Su-25s arrived at the battlefield. They flew low over the water, targeting the Papaldian naval fleet anchored offshore to support the landing force. The Papaldian fleet was spotted immediately. The Russian pilots didn't hold back, they fired Kh-29 missiles and 30mm cannons, devastating the enemy ships.

  A Kh-29 missile hit the Papaldian command ship, exploding into a giant fireball. The smaller ships were also destroyed one by one, torn apart by the air-to-ship fire from the Russian aircraft. The entire Papaldian fleet was wiped out in an instant, leaving the remnants on the beach stranded with no way to escape.

  "Retreat! Retreat!" Admiral Armandus panicked, shouting over the manacom, but it was too late. The Papaldian troops were surrounded by the Russian and Tajik forces, with air support, and had no choice but to flee toward the areas that hadn't been hit.

  Finally, the Papaldian army, once mighty and arrogant, was forced to retreat with heavy losses. Thousands of soldiers and most of their mages were killed, while their fleet was completely destroyed.

  However, this victory didn't come easily. Out of the 700 defenders initially, half were wounded or killed. The anti-aircraft guns and combat vehicles also suffered heavy losses. The Aiwanj beach was now filled with corpses, smoke, and debris.

  Rovsky, who survived the battle, slumped down, staring blankly at the battlefield. His comrades, the brave soldiers who had fought valiantly, now lay silent on the blood-stained sand.

  "Everyone fought to their last breath..." He muttered, bowing his head in remembrance of his fallen comrades. This victory wasn't just about the strength of the Russian and Tajik forces, but also about the soldiers who had sacrificed themselves to protect their homeland from the Papaldian Empire's invasion.

  Some time after the battle, the Aiwanj beach was no longer a fiery, smoke-filled battlefield. Instead, it was now just the remnants of a brutal fight, with fragments of weapons, military equipment, and the bodies of Papaldian soldiers and defenders.

  The scene was grim. The bodies of Papaldian soldiers lay scattered across the sand. Some were charred from explosions, their bodies deformed in the large fires, black smoke still lingering around them like ghosts. The Papaldian soldiers, once proud of their empire's might, now lay in pieces, their flesh burned, their faces devoid of the dignity they once held. Their eyes were still open, but empty, hopeless. Those who didn't die immediately from bullets or explosions died in agony, abandoned on the battlefield, their last breaths taken away by severe wounds or left among the rocks and sand.

  Standing beside the enemy corpses, the Russian and Tajik defenders weren't much better. The survivors knelt on the ground, bandaging the wounds of their severely injured comrades. The smell of blood, gunpowder, and antiseptic filled the air. Ambulances gradually moved in from the rear, the soldiers being transported to field hospitals set up on the beach, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly to save the survivors.

  On the soldiers' faces, though still in pain from their wounds, their eyes were filled with resilience, not letting defeat or the sacrifices of their comrades break them. Some soldiers had lost limbs, their arms injured, severe wounds on their faces and bodies, but they still persevered, fighting for their comrades and their country.

  The colonel in charge, the head of the defensive force, stepped onto the battlefield, his face still smeared with dirt and blood. He looked around, the grief and tension evident on his face. The battle just fought, though victorious, came at a high cost.

  "You all did well," he said, his voice hoarse from stress and gunpowder. "We've protected our territory, but we mustn't forget that this victory means the sacrifice of so many soldiers."

  A wounded soldier approached, his face still wet with tears, speaking in a choked voice: "We've lost too many... They sacrificed too much for us to stand here today. We must protect what's left."

  The colonel nodded heavily, then looked toward the Russian and Tajik reinforcement groups, moving in to take over the battlefield. Large military vehicles, along with medical teams, moved along the beach, providing medicine and helping transport the wounded. The soldiers, though exhausted, had hope in their eyes as they saw the reinforcements.

  The reinforcement troops formed a line, including trucks loaded with medicine, bandages, and rescue teams with medical equipment. Doctors and nurses in protective gear worked nonstop to save the surviving soldiers. Some Russian and Tajik officers coordinated to clean up the battlefield, moving the Papaldian soldiers' bodies out of the combat zone, piling them up on the sand, preparing for military burial.

  One of the senior officers, the commander of the Tajik reinforcement group, approached the colonel of the defensive force. "We'll take over the care and treatment of the wounded immediately. Our troops can move forward, but you'll need to reorganize your formation to deal with further attacks."

  The colonel nodded, replying: "Thank you. However, I hope you'll also help us bring our comrades back to their families. They fought to their last breath."

  The sun had now set on the horizon, the red and purple light covering the entire battlefield. The soldiers began working more urgently, cleaning the battlefield and collecting spoils from the enemy, while the doctors continued to save lives, bringing hope to those who had survived this nightmare.

  As the night fell, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of loss and the determination to honor the fallen. The soldiers worked tirelessly, their hands moving with purpose as they gathered the remnants of the battle. The sounds of distant waves crashing against the shore mingled with the murmurs of the living, a somber reminder of the cost of war.

  Rovsky, still in shock from the day's events, found himself helping to carry the wounded to the makeshift medical tents. Each step felt like a reminder of the comrades he had lost, the faces of those who had fought bravely now etched in his memory. He glanced at the horizon, where the last rays of sunlight faded, leaving a dark void that mirrored the emptiness in his heart.

  "Stay strong, Rovsky," a fellow soldier said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We did what we could. They wouldn't want us to give up now."

  Rovsky nodded, grateful for the support. "I know. We have to keep fighting, for them and for our home."

  As the night deepened, the medical teams worked under the glow of lanterns, their faces illuminated by the flickering light. The sounds of groans and cries filled the air, a haunting symphony of pain and resilience. The doctors moved swiftly, their hands steady as they treated the injured, each life saved a small victory amidst the overwhelming sorrow.

  In the distance, the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, a stark contrast to the chaos below. The soldiers took a moment to look up, finding solace in the constellations that had guided them through countless battles. They whispered silent prayers for their fallen comrades, hoping that their spirits would find peace among the stars.

  As the hours passed, the tide of the battle seemed to shift. The reinforcements from Tajikistan and Russia began to organize, their resolve hardening as they prepared for the possibility of another attack. The commanders held briefings, strategizing their next moves, determined to fortify their defenses and ensure that the sacrifices made that day would not be in vain.

  Rovsky stood among his fellow soldiers, listening intently as the plans were laid out. "We'll hold this line," the colonel declared, his voice steady and commanding. "We've faced the worst, and we've survived. We will not let them take our land."

  The soldiers cheered, their spirits lifted by the colonel's words. They knew the fight was far from over, but together, they felt a renewed sense of purpose. They were not just defending their territory; they were fighting for their families, their homes, and the memory of those who had fallen.

  As dawn approached, the first light of day began to break over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the battlefield. The soldiers prepared themselves, their hearts steeled for whatever lay ahead. They would honor their fallen comrades by standing firm, ready to face the next wave of invaders.

  With the sun rising behind them, they took their positions, united in their resolve. The battle for Aiwanj was far from over, but they were ready to fight, to protect, and to ensure that the glory of their homeland would not be extinguished.