The air was heavy with an unsettling quiet.
"Something feels... wrong," murmured Kontrachenko, his voice laden with suspicion.
"What do you mean, Commander?" asked his adjutant, standing rigidly at attention.
"This situation," Kontrachenko replied, gesturing broadly at the sprawling battlefield map before them. "The Third Army—how many soldiers were under their command?"
"Approximately eighty thousand."
"And how long has it taken us to advance this far?"
"About three weeks, sir."
Kontrachenko's brow furrowed, the weight of unease pressing down on him like a gathering storm. "Doesn't this strike you as odd? The Japanese army, pushed back this far? We're talking about a force that fights with the ferocity of the damned, men who shout their emperor's name as they charge headlong into death. And yet here they are—retreating, scattered. They're not even counterattacking."
