Countless bullets rained wildly down in front of the Third Regiment's position, clods of dirt kicked up by the impact pelting the Eldian soldiers crouched beneath the trenches.
The final three fortresses in the southern sector of Grayle Fortress had stalled the Third Regiment's advance. The seemingly endless firepower pouring from within made it impossible for the Eldian soldiers to even raise their heads.
"Let me go. I have Titan power—I can cover everyone's advance." Airi Ambers volunteered to Yago.
But Yago shook his head and rejected the idea.
To be honest, the current situation suited him just fine. Why fight so desperately? Why be so enthusiastic about fighting for the Marleyans? These last three fortresses could just as well serve as his excuse to brush off Marley. It wasn't that his troops lacked courage—only that the enemy was too cunning, holed up inside their bunkers. If they couldn't take them, what could they do?
What could the Marleyans do even if they were dissatisfied? The Third Regiment's record of uprooting forty-one fortresses was more than enough to slap those Marleyans across the face.
"Serena, tell everyone to stay sharp. No need to keep advancing. We've been fighting long enough—it's time to relax a little." Yago called out to Serena.
At first, Serena didn't understand what Yago meant. But under his subtle hint, the clever Serena quickly grasped the underlying implication. How could she refuse? A discreet order soon spread quietly among the soldiers of the Eldian Third Regiment.
Up to this point, Serena had successfully absorbed every soldier of the Third Regiment into the Eldian Revival Army. Yago's existence was known to all members, and the goal of reviving the Eldian nation resonated deeply with them. Although Yago's true identity had yet to be revealed, most members of the Revival Army already respected him no less than they did Serena.
That, in turn, gave Yago an indirectly acquired force of over a thousand highly loyal subordinates—far more than the Survey Corps on Paradis Island.
In other words, Yago thought to himself: Wow, I wander around outside the island for a bit and suddenly I'm a regimental commander? With just a few thousand people, we dare talk about reviving Eldia. If I had ten or twenty thousand, would I start talking about ruling the world? Just kidding—no need to take that seriously.
...
Inside the fortress, the Middle Eastern soldiers had already sunk into despair. The dust rising from the Marleyan positions felt like a death-bringing demon, creeping ever closer to their final stronghold. Once that dust truly reached their doorstep, it would mark the end of the Middle Eastern fortresses.
A loaded pistol sat on the table before the Middle Eastern officer. When the Marleyans broke through, he would use it to end his own life.
As for fleeing? He didn't even dare consider it. Losing the fortress meant certain court-martial, and death would be inevitable. Even if he somehow escaped, what would happen to his family back home?
All the Middle Eastern soldiers could do was fire their machine guns in futile desperation, praying over and over in their hearts. Perhaps their prayers had worked—because they suddenly realized the Marleyan forces had stopped advancing. In fact, the entire battlefield had fallen eerily silent.
Hope flared up among the Middle Eastern soldiers. When the officer received the news, he completely abandoned decorum, stuck his head out of the fortress, and burst into hysterical laughter.
Hope ignited on the Middle Eastern side, while the Eldian Third Regiment was enjoying unexpected leisure. Nestled safely in their trenches, they ate their not-so-delicious but filling rations, occasionally discussing in low voices the goals of the Eldian Revival Army.
The crack of machine guns and the roar of artillery were somewhat grating, but after hearing them long enough, they had grown used to it. In fact, when the Middle Easterners suddenly ceased fire, some Eldian soldiers felt oddly uncomfortable.
At the very front line, a few Eldian soldiers sipped tea brewed from red tea bags. Though of poor quality, such treatment had once been unimaginable. Tea bags had always been exclusive to the proper Marleyan army—what right did Eldian troops have to such supplies?
One soldier took a sip and lowered his voice mysteriously.
"Hey, guys, I heard a pretty wild rumor lately. Wanna hear it?"
The others immediately perked up.
"What rumor? Let's hear it."
"Yeah, hurry up!"
"What kind of rumor could it be? You're not messing with us, are you?"
The Eldian soldier rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not."
"Fine, fine, we're listening!"
Urged on by his companions, he finally spoke.
"I heard that our Third Regiment's Marleyan commander—Loya—is actually the leader Norman of our Eldian Revival Army!"
"What!?"
"No way!"
"Seriously!? That's insane!"
The soldiers were stunned. Their Marleyan superior being the leader of their own Revival Army? It sounded absurd.
And yet, deep down, a strange feeling stirred in them. If the rumor were true… it didn't seem entirely unacceptable.
They had all witnessed Loya's conduct since taking office. He had never looked down on any Eldian soldier. On the contrary, he had stood up for them and sought justice on their behalf.
He had even secured supplies superior to what the Marleyans received. And in the war against the Middle Easterners, his skill had been undeniable. In their assault on the fortresses, casualties had been almost negligible—only a few unlucky soldiers were wounded or maimed by artillery due to poor cover.
Without speaking, the Eldian soldiers who heard the rumor fell silent, each digesting its plausibility.
One dazed soldier sat there for a long while before finally lifting his mess tin, intending to take another sip of tea to calm himself.
Suddenly, something blurred before his eyes—a figure shot past him in an instant.
Startled, his hand jerked, and scalding tea spilled all over his trousers. Ignoring it, he scrambled to his feet to see what had happened.
A small figure had leapt out of the trench and dived into a shell crater in the battlefield between the Third Regiment and the Middle Eastern fortress.
The Eldian soldier with soaked pants widened his eyes and pointed.
"It's a kid! It's that kid from the Warrior candidate unit! Kid! It's dangerous! Get back!"
The crater, blasted by artillery, still reeked of gunpowder. Clutching a bundle of grenades, Gabi panted heavily, sweat beading on her nose. Her body trembled slightly from tension—but her eyes burned with extreme excitement.
Only the last fortress remained! The Middle Easterners had only one fortress left!
Her chance to prove herself had arrived.
Gabi was brimming with confidence. As a Warrior candidate, she had undergone rigorous training. She was certain she could throw the grenades she held straight into the enemy fortress. When that happened, she would amaze everyone!
Falco and Zofia also ran up to the forward trench, but several Eldian soldiers stopped them—the front was far too dangerous. As for Udo, he sprinted off at full speed to report the situation.
Falco, Zofia, and several Eldian soldiers shouted desperately, urging Gabi to come back. The battlefield ahead was far too perilous.
But in her state of extreme exhilaration… would Gabi turn back?