Sergeant Aziz and Lieutenant Marie, who had been dispatched to the Northern-Central war, had been through their fair share of battles. The former in particular had been a constant presence from the start of the Second Extermination, serving as a scout that watched for enemy presences, that doubled as a blocking force that worked in tandem with an ambush troop to encircle enemies. Every time such an operation succeeded, Sergeant Aziz couldn’t help but feel that simply coordinating an ambush and a blocking troop to act as one was already the upper limit of simultaneous control.

But clearly, he only felt that way because he hadn’t had the chance to witness the Northern military in action. Their ability to coordinate groups of soldiers was nothing sort of miraculous; from an opposing point of view who did not know how these soldiers communicated, the only conclusion that the ignorant would probably arrive was that even the ground-level commanders of the North were tactical geniuses.

This wasn’t the key point in the battle of the Holy Temple, however. Rather, the key point of this particular battle was the overwhelming might of artillery. The defensive structures of Centoria were breaking apart with every passing second, with none of their ground troops willing to venture out after seeing what happened to the cavalry. Right now, from the slightly elevated, artificially created hill they were standing on, the two could already see the outer walls of Centoria breaking apart.

“To think the hegemon who ruled over the Five Lands is powerless before the North’s Summoned,” whispered Lieutenant Marie. Her fist was balled up and trembling, and the sergeant had half a mind to stop her from hitting his thigh every few seconds.

“Lieutenant Marie,” said Sergeant Aziz, “I’m quite sure we’re here to witness and learn from the military doctrines the North are pushing out. Being just an ardent fan of the North’s Summoned isn’t going to help us do that.”

“Hush, sergeant; you don’t understand!” The lieutenant trembled. “This is history in the making, proof that the path that the champions’ world took in regards to war is the correct one! And when we look back to this day, historians of the future will say that the Battle of Centoria was also a battle where the weak overpowered the strong!”

“Those words are incredibly flattering, Lieutenant Marie.”

Without needing to turn his head, the two observers knew who the speaker was — Major Igor. He stopped beside Sergeant Aziz, and said, “Well, it just so happens that we’re about to activate our countermeasures against the so-called ‘strongest’ of the Central Circle…and the Holy Temple itself.”

“Oh?”

“Our flier scouts have reported that the Central Capital is gathering all flight-able Knights, as well as every Lord it can. We don’t have intel on their Paragons, but we’re quite certain they’ll be there too.” The Major smiled. “We estimate that within ten minutes, we’ll see the largest force of high-rank Cultivators ever assembled headed towards our artillery lines to crush them. Would you like to see our countermeasures?”

The observer duo nodded. The major nodded with satisfaction at their faces, and then led them away from the slightly elevated hill. As the neatly-dressed man hopped over a stone, he said, “We’ve devised many measures to defend against Lords and Knights who are aiming at our artillery, which is currently in a state where they’re told to fire as quickly as they can. Most of them are death traps or killing grounds.”

“The enemy will come prepared for that,” said Sergeant Aziz.

“The enemy will come as prepared as they can,” corrected the major. “The Northern concept of being prepared refers to a state where geography, weather and even time can be harnessed to reinforce our efforts. At most, the enemies will come with their trump cards prepared, maybe some armour, artefacts and weapons. But these preparations are not mutually exclusive.”

“Geography…” Lieutenant Marie muttered. “Formations? Large-scale formations?”

“You catch on quick, lieutenant.” Major Igor nodded in approval. “Of course, we’ve also prepared the likes of traps to kill enemies who have been grounded for one reason or another, as well as supporting fire from an entire division, as well as the flier squads assigned to guard each gun.”

The man glared at the crumbling walls of the Holy Temple. “The Central Circle has the greatest number of Lords and Knights in active service, and we cannot account for those who’ve entered the Temple as elders. Our measures might look like overkill, but we’re compensating as best as we can.”

Men saluted as Major Igor led them over to what looked like a watchtower on wheels. “C’mon, we’ll be able to see every part of the battlefield from here.”

Six flights of stairs didn’t pose much of a problem for anyone on Orb, generally, and the two observers were naturally no exception.

The major spread his arms, the gesture imbued with a hint of welcome and pride, as the three arrived on the top floor, where a door barred their way. “Welcome to our mobile Command Post; the keystone of today’s battle.”

The two chuckled softly at the major’s theatrics, as the man pushed the door open.

Other than the three of them, the top floor was filled with only ten people, the epaulettes on their chests bearing one or more gleaming stars. No one looked up as the three walked in, and the major didn’t make an effort to greet them either. He placed a finger on his lips and beckoned once more, leading them to an elevated platform, where four other people were waiting.

These are the observers from the East and the West. Sergeant Aziz narrowed his eyes. It seems like they got here first, although I’m not sure what they were…

His thoughts trailed off as the brightly lit command centre around them turned into clear skies. Below them, the Holy Temple and the Northern lines looked like models, the soldiers like ants.

“This is the Skyclad Observer, a local-area viewing platform,” said Major Igor.

The observers from the other continents turned as he spoke, clearly intrigued. One of them stepped forward and asked, “Is this a unique artefact?”

“It’s hard to produce, but we have a blueprint for it.” The major tapped his foot lightly twice. “But it’s a military secret, I don’t have any say in it. At any rate, the Skyclad Observer allows one to have the viewpoint of say, an eagle in the sky, from a distance of at most three kilometres.”

Sergeant Aziz couldn’t help but twitch an eyebrow at the seemingly regretful sigh that came from the major. The others were reacting similarly, but Major Igor didn’t seem to notice anything off.

His expression abruptly changed, his eyes turning predatory as streaks of light shot out from the besieged city. “They’re here.”

“Contact. Bandits inbound; estimated figures as follows: three hundred Knights, fifty Lords and twenty Paragons.” A calm voice spoke, from outside the Cosmic Observer’s area of effect. There was a moment of silence, and then words devolved into indistinguishable chatter as men began speaking into what seemed like microphones.

“The number’s more than our optimistic estimates, but it’s within an acceptable range.” Major Igor nodded in satisfaction. Below the observers, the Northern armies moved away from the city, the flier squads that had been harassing the mounted riders taking protective positions above the ground troops, as the experts of the Central Circle made their way towards the artillery deployment grounds.

No one spoke, and even the command centre fell silent as the largest Cultivator forces sped up.

“Bandits have crossed Point Zulu.” The same voice, calm and even, spoke. “Headquarters Actual to all units. Execute fire plan Rubicon.”