The doors to the former Teutonica airbase commander's office swung open with a heavy clang, the battered hinges barely holding after the battle.
The room, once the heart of enemy operations, was already being transformed.
The brought over by transport planes cerberus NCOs and officers moved with ruthless efficiency, setting up communication networks.
Technicians and engineers hauled in radio transmitters, telegrams, encryption and decryption machines.
My armored boots thudded against the wooden floor as I strode inside, my Death Squad fanning out without a word.
I reached up, gripping the latches on either side of my fully enclosed helmet, the familiar hiss of depressurization filling the air as I took it off.
Cool air brushed against my face as I set the helmet down on a nearby table and plopped my armored ass onto the worn out leather couch with a deep exhale.
Then without another word, I crosse my armored legs, put them on the table and pulled up my systems interface, the glowing holographic display flickering to life before my eyes.
WAR STATUS: TEUTONICA CAMPAIGN
Captured: Teutonica Forward Airbase (Operational within 12 Hours).
First Paratrooper Cohort Deployed (Casualties: 15% Expected - 9% Actual).
Enemy Border Divisions Engaged, Locked Down.
Four Armored Cohorts and Eight Infantry Legions Advancing (Slow but Steady Gains).
First Armored Cohort Executing Deep Penetration Blitz No Resistance.
Estimated Time to Enemy Capital, 18 Hours at Current Speed.
Teutonica Government Response: DELAYED, UNPREPARED, DISORGANIZED.
Air superiority 100 %.
I leaned back against the couch, rubbing my jaw. It was working. The bulk of Teutonica's forces were locked in brutal, attritional battles at the border, completely unprepared for the speed of our offensive.
The First Armored Cohort, sixty tanks strong, was racing toward the capital at full speed through an undefended gap in enemy lines.
If nothing changed, we would have troops in the capital before their government could even coordinate a response.
Zero One, standing near the window, glanced toward me.
"Orders, Imperator?"
I exhaled through my nose, staring at the holographic display for a few moments longer.
"Maintain the momentum. Tell the First Armored Cohort to push forward at maximum speed. If they encounter resistance, do not stop bypass and leave mop up to the follow up forces."
Zero One nodded, turning toward the nearest Cerberus communications officer.
"Relay the Imperator's orders to the front as soon as possible, priority encryption."
The officer saluted sharply before rushing to the nearest telegraph machine, his fingers rapidly tapping out the encoded transmission.
Across the room, cerberus officers that were listening In on Teutonicas communications thanks to the provided by me cypher that I bought from the system spoke up.
"Imperator the enemy Is In a complete disarray"
An officer murmured, adjusting his headphone placed on his left ear.
"Their border command is frantically requesting reinforcements from their interior divisions… but Teutonica High Command hasn't even issued a formal war directive yet."
"Good."
I smirked, leaning forward.
"They're still caught in shock. Their government is paralyzed, and their military is responding like a headless chicken, though of course Its just a one time situation In other words after this the Hellenum Dominion and langrad ducatum will be on guard"
I muttered more to myself than anyone else because my next target was the langrad ducatum which was even weaker than Teutonica which had a standing army of 40000 strong, langrad barely fielded 25000 though of course It was possible that that would change since there was no telling what kind of butter flie effect I would produce.
As for them deploying their troops on our soon to be new border well...
As I thought this I started snickering evilly.
...all the better for my paratroopers.
...
About an hour later Nova Roma Airbase/Field Hospital.
The airbase, once a hub of military operations, had been transformed into a sprawling field hospital. Barracks had been stripped of bunks, floors scrubbed clean of dust and dirt, now filled with rows upon rows of cots.
White banners marked with red crosses hung from poles, a desperate attempt to impose some sense of order in the chaos.
The stench of blood, antiseptic, and sweat clung to the air as transport planes landed one after another, their engines roaring before cutting off.
The moment the side doors doors opended, the on duty legioneers rushed forward, carrying wounded on stretchers.
"Move, move! Get them inside!"
A nurse barked, waving in another team of stretcher bearers.
Men groaned, some barely conscious, others screaming as their bodies were carried into the makeshift hospital.
Nurses and doctors, their white uniforms stained with crimson, moved like a well oiled machine, categorizing the injured by urgency.
Those who could wait were lined up against the walls, given field dressings and painkillers. Those with severe wounds were rushed directly to the operating tables, where surgeons were already elbow deep in flesh and blood.
And those beyond saving… were taken to a quieter section of the hospital, where they would not die alone.
A doctor, a grizzled man in his fifties, sleeves rolled up, surgical mask already soaked through with sweat, knelt beside one of the newly arrived stretchers. Klaus lay atop it, his face pale, the makeshift bandages around his leg already soaked red.
The doctor peeled them away, assessing the damage with sharp, clinical eyes. He let out a heavy sigh.
"Bring this one to the High Priestess,"
He said grimly.
"Otherwise, we'll have to amputate."
The nurses immediately acknowledged the order.
"You heard him! Move him, now!"
A group of towering and burly legioneers, their faces hard as stone, stepped forward. They lifted Klaus with practiced ease, carrying him through the crowded hospital, past men groaning on cots, past surgeons barking orders, past the scent of death that lingered like a curse.
...
The High Priestess POV.
The inner sanctum of the field hospital was quieter, though no less tense.
It was here that High Priestess Kallista, the most powerful psionic healer of the Imperium, worked tirelessly.
Her white and gold robes were no longer pristine, they were stained with blood, sweat, and the weight of war.
She stood over a dying paratrooper, her hands hovering over his abdomen. The air around her hummed with psionic energy, a faint golden glow outlining her fingers.
Beneath her hands, the paratroopers liver ruptured by shrapnel began to knit back together, cell by cell. Not perfectly. Not completely. But just enough so the waiting doctors and nurses could take over.
The moment the process was complete, the nurses rushed in.
"He's stable, get him to the surgery ward!"
They whisked the man away, his face still twisted in agony, but alive. That was all that mattered.
Kallista exhaled heavily. Her knees buckled slightly, but she gripped her ornate staff a silver rod adorned with laurel leaves and a serpent coiled around its shaft to steady herself.
Too many wounded. Too much blood. And it was all that unh*ly things fault, just the thought of him made her want to throw up on the spot.
The Imperator. The madman who had ignited this conflict. The one who led from the front, bathed in blood, unrelenting, unstoppable.
She gritted her teeth. He was a monster. A force of destruction. And yet… she and her fellow sisters In faith was here, cleaning up the mess he had created. Did he even care?
Before she could spiral further, the doors to her sanctum burst open.
"HIGH PRIESTESS! WOUNDED, HEAVY BLEEDING!"
The legioneers carried in a stretcher, Klaus atop it, his leg still seeping blood. The nurses moved immediately, setting him on the table.
Kallista straightened herself, inhaling deeply.
"What's the injury?"
She asked, her voice steady despite the exhaustion creeping into her bones.
"Gunshot wound, left leg,"
Anurse reported quickly.
"Artery is intact, but heavy blood loss. Temporary field treatment applied."
Kallista nodded once. She could feel the injury now, her psionic senses registering the torn tissue, the seeping blood, the faltering pulse.
She closed her eyes and began to pray.
"Panacea g*ddess of healing, grant me your strength. Let my hands mend what is broken, let my will bring life where there is only pain."
As she spoke, she felt it. The touch of d*vinity.
A phantom presence, warm and gentle, settled over her. A hand not her own pressed over hers, guiding her movements.
A voice, soft as wind but as firm as stone, echoed in her mind.
"Child, do not give up. You are doing good."
Kallista's breath hitched. She could see her. Standing behind her, bathed in golden light, was the G*ddess of Healing Panacea herself.
Her presence filled the room, washing over everyone in the sanctum. Even the nurses felt it, their breath catching in awe.
Kallista exhaled, her hands pressing firmly over Klaus's wound. Psionic energy surged through her fingertips, seeping into his flesh, mending muscle, stitching veins, sealing ruptured capillaries.
Klaus groaned, his head rolling to the side as his body registered the intense heat washing over his leg.
Kallista pushed forward, her fingers trembling. Every cell, every fiber, realigned itself under her touch.