Arc of Fire

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“Yes!” the messenger saluted, mounted his horse, and galloped away.

Ivan turned to Duke Rocossov and said, “Then I’m off.”

“Hmm, I’ll be right there,” the Duke replied, taking a step back and saluting Ivan.

Ivan turned to climb onto the tank but his legs were shaking so badly that he couldn’t get up.

Old Duke Rocossov stepped forward, grabbed him by the armpit, and hoisted him up.

The Crown Prince stood behind the tank gun, placing all his weight on the turret, before finally looking down at Duke Rocossov, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Ivan rapped on the tank turret hatch and shouted loudly, “Forward! To the very front of the formation!”

Duke Rocossov watched the tank depart before getting into his own jeep: “Let’s go, to the front of the first line of infantry, and then, Stepan, you can run. Go wherever it is you need to go.”

Stepan nodded, “Understood.”

The car engine started up.

Half an hour later, at the very front of the attack front.

All the soldiers present could tell that the barrage had turned into Xu Jin’s barrage, signaling that the attack was about to begin.

A platoon leader ran up to Ivan’s tank: “Your Highness! Say something to us!”

“Ah?” Ivan looked at the soldiers awaiting expectantly, “Uh, I… can’t! Whenever I had to speak before, someone else would write the script for me!”

The platoon leader said, “But you’ve got to say something, everyone’s waiting.”

Ivan scratched his head and began, “Alright. I’m the Crown Prince of the Ante Empire…”

“We can’t hear you!” a heckler called out from below.

Ivan raised his voice considerably, “I’m the Crown Prince of the Ante Empire, the close friend of that General Rokossovsky, the White Horse General! He has led his troops to many victories!” R̃

“I don’t know if I can lead you to victory like he does, but at the very least—I can charge with you on a tank, like he does! That’s all!”

The platoon leader, who had asked for a speech, blew the whistle to start the march, whether he was satisfied or not.

Ivan patted the tank turret, “Move out! Forward!”

The tank began moving, advancing towards the enemy’s position.

Duke Rocossov was in front of the first skirmish line to the right of the Crown Prince’s tank.

Seeing the Crown Prince’s tank advance, Rocossov shouted, “The Crown Prince takes the lead! Sons of Kazarlia, forward!”

He drew his old command saber—which despite its age, was so well-maintained it reflected light visible hundreds of meters away.

Duke Rocossov placed his military cap on the point of the saber and held it high.

“Follow me! Forward! Strike up the military song!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the enemy’s counter-fire fell, exploding amongst the skirmish line.

Duke Rocossov moved forward, fearless.

The Prussian Army, 13th Attack Squadron’s Squadron Leader heard over his headset: “We’re under attack by enemy infantry, we’re under attack by enemy infantry.”

The Squadron Leader tilted his joystick and the aircraft leaned over, revealing the plains originally obscured by the wings.

Then, the Squadron Leader noticed an interesting target: a tank, flying a huge flag that looked—somewhat like the Royal flag of the Ante Empire.

The Squadron Leader turned on the radio: “I’ve spotted a high-value target. Squadron maintain direction, number two follow me in the attack.”

After speaking, he pushed the joystick to the right and the aircraft rolled and dove into a dive.

The Squadron Leader opened the airbrake, and the characteristic screech filled the air.

As soon as Ivan heard the screech, his neck was covered with goosebumps.

He vaguely remembered that this was the noise made by the enemy’s dive bombers, called “Death Scream!”

He snatched the anti-aircraft gun mounted on the tank turret, looking up for the target.

He spotted them, “black birds” against the direction of the sun!

Ivan swung the gun around, crouching down on the side of the turret to raise the gun as much as possible.

He fired, tracer rounds soaring into the sky.

However, Ivan, who had never received any air shooting training, had no idea about leading the target.

Nor did he have a gunsight.

There was no chance he could shoot down the enemy aircraft diving from several thousand meters up.

The two enemy planes dropped their bombs at 700 meters altitude and then pulled up to leave.

As the planes flew over Ivan’s head, two 500-kilogram bombs dropped, one landing right beside the tank.

Ivan turned just in time to hear the whirring of the bomb’s time-delay fuze.

The next moment, light swallowed his consciousness.

Ivan Nikolayevich Andronov, Crown Prince of the Ante Empire, was killed in action.

Duke Konstantin Alexandrovich Rokossovsky saw clearly as the Crown Prince’s tank was engulfed in the explosion.

The Royal flag, primarily white and blue, gently fell among the smoke and dust.

The Duke closed his eyes and whispered, “Godspeed, Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince.”

When he opened his eyes, more Death Screams came from the sky.

Konstantin looked up, raising the sword that encapsulated all his glory and military prowess, facing the latest advances in military technology.

—A step ahead, my son.

Major General Konstantin Alexandrovich Rokossovsky was killed in action.

The train of the 151st Temporary Infantry Division stopped at a small, quiet station.

Pavlov: “They said it was for a train crossing, and it conveniently gives us a chance to take on water.”

Wang Zhong nodded, then jumped out of the door of the stuffy boxcar onto the platform.

“Is this still within Kazarlian territory?” he asked Pavlov, looking back.

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