The sight of funeral pyres burning on the battalion squares that belonged to Thunderbolt, Stardust and Avalanche was now a sight that Colonel Aziz could barely get used to. Seated solidly on the roof of the First Aerial’s division headquarters — which was now filling up with clerks and administrative officers — the colonel looked down on the grieving battalions.

It had been a week since the Great Divide fell. The first four days had seen victories after victories…at least, until the demons began to employ their own countermeasures against the enormous barrages that had crushed their overwhelming numbers earlier. Gigantic barriers that towered to the skies; tactically sound movement that lowered the accuracy rate of incoming fire…all these contributed to the ever-decreasing advantages that the Five Lands’ infantry had enjoyed up until then.

The true casualties, however, came from the lower airzone, where the First Aerial, along with the East’s First Air Army and the Assembly’s First Airborne Regiment, had been forced to sortie over and over. The demon troops had taken a few days to figure out that the Five Lands’ aerial forces didn’t have the same level of fire support as their infantry, but they could take the losses.

Colonel Aziz let out a long, drawn-out breath of turbid air. The dawn assault two days ago had seen over fifty thousand demon fliers. None of them were particularly impressive in terms of individual strength, but they had outnumbered even the East’s First Air Army two to one.

Once again, the exchange rate between the Five Lands and the Wildlands’ casualties had been ruinous towards the latter; four thousand injured or dead in exchange for the complete annihilation of the demon fliers. However, there weren’t many fliers that belonged to the Five Lands to begin with.

That, however, was just the opening.

The battle that occurred early at dawn today and yesterday had seen an equally sized army of demon fliers take the field. Even with hastily arranged fire support from the fortress, a grand total of ten thousand fliers were now either dead or too injured to function. With that, only three-fifths of the Five Lands’ aerial troops were now capable of fighting.

Aziz could faintly feel an air of despair permeating the Heaven-cleaving Fortress. The reinforcements from the Five Lands were three days away; Ark City was slated to arrive tomorrow.

“Immediate reinforcements…they’ll be reinforcing a graveyard at this rate,” Aziz muttered.

The combatants in the middle airzone had worked themselves to the bone, but the Knights and Lords were even more outnumbered there. Despite their superior equipment, the enemy Sages and Scholars — the Wildlands’ name for Lords and Knights respectively — were too tenacious. Whatever damned tactician that was guiding them had turned the battle within the middle airzone into a slog, stalling for time as the lower airzone’s demons exploited their manpower advantage for all it was worth.

Aziz and Marie could only watch as brave soldiers fought to the last far below, unable to interfere due to the Scholars’ running interference.

Those memories layered upon each other, and for a moment, Aziz lost control of his anger. Stone chips flew as the colonel punched the roof he was sitting on, but the dull pain that ran up his arm was nothing compared to the void he felt in his heart.

It hurt to see the dead and injured of First Aerial. For the past few days, Aziz had forced himself to walk around the three battalions, consoling the grieving soldiers of First Aerial and checking on the injured. It was something that the battalion commanders should be doing, but they were bogged down with all kinds of paperwork after battles.

Signing off on death and casualty reports. Reinforcement requests. Dealing with funeral procedures.

None of the battalion commanders had it easy either. As such, Colonel Aziz had taken it upon himself to cheer up the men and women of the First Aerial, especially those that had been injured in the course of battle.

The demons had shown no mercy in their attacks; lost or broken limbs were the most common injuries, especially once their Shells had given way. More than once, Aziz had witnessed death from blood loss before his very eyes, but he could not break down the way the others did.

On the surface, at least.

“Aziz,” a voice came from behind him. “Are you alright?”

The colonel glanced behind him. “As good as the rest, at most. How’s things on your side?”

“A mess, as usual.” Marie paused and looked up at the night sky. “How’s Hans?”

“He’s gotten out of his shock,” Aziz replied. “The only good news we have, apparently.”

“How about Claire?” Marie asked, a brooding tone in her words.

“She’ll live, but she doesn’t intend to take up a post at the rear,” said Aziz. “Maybe you can do something about it, ma’am. She isn’t listening to me all that well.”

“I’ll check on her later, then.”

“Thank you.”

“What do you intend to do with Avalanche?” Marie asked.

“I want to disband it,” Aziz replied. “Fill up the missing gaps in Thunderbolt and Stardust. It’ll help take their minds off the dead and injured.”

“Is that your decision?”

“Do you have a different idea?” Aziz shot back. “Get some qualified Squires to rebuild Avalanche? Steal some troops from the upcoming Second Aerial? There’s none, and you know it.”

He paused. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” Marie looked up into the starry sky. “I understand. We’re all on edge right now. ‘specially you, since you’ve been making the rounds. You console the others, but…there’s no one doing that for you, is there?”

The colonel looked up at the river of stars as a reply. He had been looking at it for the past few days. Some part of him was seeking consolation in the unceasing starlight from up high; this new sight was a reminder that things would never be the same again.

“It’s going to be dawn soon,” said Aziz. “You should do whatever you came for and get some rest.”

“Ark City should be here soon,” said Marie. “Don’t give up hope just yet, okay?”

Aziz nodded, and closed his eyes.