Battle of Mephauric (Part 1)
Days passed like that, and finally, February 1, 2046, arrived.
As always, the machines demonstrated capabilities that effortlessly surpassed humanity with their transcendent technology.
Even the main weapons used by nations across the world—the Starburst Shredder that could devour an entire star at once and redirect its amplified energy across the cosmos, the Gray Missile that disassembled billions of bones and flesh into femtoseconds with nanomachines, the Dimensional Devourer that consumed even the immaterial realm in data form to trigger a Planet Crack and hurl a planet's core into ruin, and the Nova Solar that generated new stars and unleashed their energy raw—were merely basic tools to me for cleanup against the Strange Zombies.
Dyson spears, Dyson rings, artificial stars, artificial planets, and artificial satellites served as my primary arsenal.
In other words, to me, even galactic forges were just raw materials in the cosmic structure, unworthy of note.
"In this world, artificial creations now outweigh natural ones. The universe is no longer an unknown. My intellect, my creativity, my methods, my innovations—these are the true absolute unknowns."
"My developments have already embedded themselves across the cosmos. With nanomachine cyborg procedures and hyperspace jumps through the immaterial realm now routine, battles erupt in sudden ambushes. But since they must seize entire planets, steadily consuming from the outskirts remains their top priority. We mustn't forget that."
Thus, a mere human might assume I'd join the fray with my authority and these mighty weapons.
But that would fix all eyes on me.
At a glance, one might think instant annihilation possible, but that's a tactic that works only against foes brined in arrogance. The enemy imagines it so.
They've already fallen into my plans.
By boldly gambling on overwhelming the battlefield with elite forces, I induce them to prepare for external reinforcements, scattering their focus.
Yet I've overheard their actual war councils verbatim, making this premium intel impossible to ignore. Their heads must ache.
The mere fact I've laid such traps spawns countless scenarios.
Basic pincer maneuvers front and rear, superior weaponry and logistics forming a no-escape backwater formation where US and UN troops charge to drag even one more foe to hell, lifelines be damned.
Trench networks to isolate encirclements, or blasting buildings in urban advances to root out hidden infantry—while countering mechanized units from the core.
All this must be accounted for, especially with teleportation, spacetime stasis, reversal, erasure, acceleration twisting tactics into meaninglessness.
Factor in my direct intervention and decoy units, and it's checkmate.
"To dare read my thoughts ahead—utter folly."
"Better to weigh the chance of the US government, enraged by this all-around siege disrupting peace, abandoning Mephauric and committing fully to war."
"Their goal is clear: advance along highways into the city, then push to the central plaza. Even if infiltrators lurk inside, their aim presupposes linking with external forces. Solo actions are obviously forbidden."
Two hours later, Russian nationalists launched a full camp invasion.
Shuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
Thududududududu
Combat jets and helicopters pierced the atmosphere, met instantly by the camp's anti-air rail barrages in a preemptive strike.
Engagement ignited.
Plasma bombardments, rail salvos, and incendiary armor-piercing machine-gun bursts followed, hammering the enemy.
Learning from last time, to evade weapon ID locks, the nationalists armed with Strange Zombie gear: ray guns, laser rifles, cryo emitters, plasma guns, railguns, chain high-voltage stunners, internal amplifiers, graviton launchers, gravity controllers.
And Ansoloc White led his mercenaries into the fray.
Ansoloc's side—
"Alpha 0-1 here. Russian nationalists have completed planetary landing."
"No further enemy air support inbound?"
"Negative. But they've seized the skies, low-level flying to secure firing positions on buildings, digging in for encirclement and annihilation."
"Understood. Dispatching infantry into structures promptly. Maintain air engagement. Indiscriminate shootdowns will inevitably hit civilian areas. Don't fixate on that."
"Roger."
Shuuuuuuuuuu
I peeled my fighter off with the Alpha squadron, skirting the battlefield's edge.
'Without disruption or initiative, overwhelming force is the only path to crushing them... Not a desperate crash-landing, so no suicidal brawls. Lure them into the city, then.'
I telepathically contacted the Alpha squadron.
'Listen up. From now, we'll drive the enemy into the city, maximizing our tank assaults and the infantry ambushes from building interiors.'
'Outer air forces hit without respite for regrouping, herding them toward central ground forces for encirclement and annihilation?'
'First part yes. Second, no. Make them think encirclement—pure illusion. In reality, tank cannons at point-blank zero their survival odds, while infantry with anti-tank weapons and MGs hesitate their armor advance.'
'That prompts building demolitions for breakthroughs. But as the most obvious play, failure will panic and paralyze them.'
'Exactly. Boost building strength with Psionics?'
'Opposite. Amplify their their weapons' firepower to demolish more structures faster upfront.'
'Our ground infantry inside takes casualties, but war doesn't spare lives. We just boosted power—they pulled triggers. Not our fault.'
'Then, as they charge gleefully, overload their weapon power sources with our Psionics for self-destructs.'
'Understood. Hope you've predicted even their conscious improvisations.'
'Impossible. Never forget: others drown in plans and predictions too. That's birthed today's Algocracy, societal farce, absurdity. Quantity isn't king. Quality is. Money, air, water, drinks, info, futures, presents, pasts—all uncountable nouns. Quantity without quality respect yields nothing.'
'Ah, got it. More you have, less remains. True—fools hoard excess to grasp true value, then rank it obsessively. Hit with excitement on instincts, thought freezes. Die then? Perfect mutual demise. Absolute certainty in 'rightness,' ignoring moral gaps, doubt-free nature maximized.'
By now, we'd infiltrated their rear; roads brimmed with barricades and supplies everywhere.
'Ignore those zones. Lure inward.'
'Yes.'
Ziiiiiiiiing
I unleashed Psionics first, lending plausibility to their sudden weapon boosts.
"Good. If one notices, they'll cry 'weapons gained weird power' and ditch—but broadcast that, and it tanks morale. Otherwise, mocked as nonsense, forced to rearm and advance. Proven superior? 'Lucky break,' charge ahead."
"If no one notices, they cherry-pick 'smart calls' and move. Can't call their logic wrong regardless."
"Yes."
From above, I steel-hardened structures via Psionics, bolstered pilots' mental fortitude, and seeded our mercenaries' bodies with Nanocripplers.
'Die from Nanocrippler retrovirus heart attacks, you lot. Fate isn't defied—it's forged. Your deaths? Inevitable.'
Then back to the fray.
"Brace yourselves. I'll annihilate every last one."
Shuuuuuuuuuu
Alpha squadron launched the full assault.