The rear communications room remained lit.
The light was steady.
No flicker.
Several communication devices sat on the table.
Indicator lights kept turning on.
Then off.
The air felt slightly stifled.
Someone stood before the equipment.
Fingers pressed on the keys.
No pause.
Signals came in intermittently.
Voices were fragmented.
With faint static.
"Frontline… encountering… unknown suppression…"
Incomplete.
Another signal cut in.
"Iron gate… lost… gravity…"
The transmission broke.
Several officers in the room exchanged glances.
No one spoke.
Next second—
Someone grabbed the communicator.
"Confirm coordinates."
Fast tone.
Before a full reply returned—
He had already turned.
"Deploy the tank company."
The order dropped.
Not loud.
No hesitation.
They moved immediately.
Footsteps echoed in quick succession.
The door opened.
Then shut.
——
In the distance.
Engine noise approached.
Low.
Continuous.
The ground began to tremble slightly.
Dust lifted.
Fine particles floated.
Tanks advanced from the rear.
Tracks crushed the ground.
Leaving clear marks.
Metal treads rolled.
Heavy grinding sounds.
Turrets rotated slowly.
Angles adjusted.
Barrels raised.
Stopped.
Orders were issued rapidly inside.
Muted by metal hulls.
Unclear.
But fast.
First shell loaded.
Mechanical sound clear.
"Fire."
A flash at the barrel.
Shock spread through the chassis.
The shell exited.
Air torn apart.
A clear trajectory formed.
It should have extended outward—
Next instant—
The path sank.
As if dragged.
The arc shortened.
Speed dropped visibly.
The shell did not travel far.
It fell midair.
"Boom—"
Explosion.
Fire spread.
Shockwave lifted dust.
Fragments flew—
But did not scatter outward.
They paused midair.
As if pressed down.
Then dropped quickly.
Close to the blast center.
Range minimal.
Second.
Third.
Continuous firing.
Every shell was forced downward.
Impact came early.
Explosions overlapped—
But were compressed in place.
Inside the tanks—
A brief hesitation.
Turrets adjusted slightly.
Angles changed again.
Trying to correct.
But trajectories remained suppressed.
Not a single round crossed that zone.
"All anti-tank rounds ready!"
A voice came from the front.
Not loud.
But clear.
The formation shifted instantly.
Several members stopped.
Bodies lowered slightly.
Weapons raised.
Shoulders locked.
Breathing suppressed.
"Three."
Fingers rested on triggers.
No pressure yet.
"Two."
Eyes locked.
Crosshairs steady.
"One."
The air changed.
Oppression vanished.
Gravity lifted.
Bodies lightened slightly.
Next instant—
"Fire."
Multiple flashes erupted.
Anti-tank rounds launched from all directions.
Trajectories normal.
Speed extreme.
Straight lines.
Impact.
"Boom—Boom—Boom—"
Explosions chained.
Fire overlapped.
Shockwaves spread.
Tank armor tore open.
Metal fragments scattered.
Hull ruptured.
Flames burst from inside.
One.
Two.
Three.
Destroyed within moments.
Remaining tanks had not adjusted.
Turrets just turning—
Iosef's gaze had already fallen on them.
He stood still.
No movement.
Fingers tightened slightly.
The air pressed down again.
The front of a barrel warped.
First slight bend—
Then deepened rapidly.
Metal groaned.
The muzzle was forced downward.
Angle altered.
Inside—loading continued.
Shell chambered.
Next instant—
Fired.
Flash burst—
But direction changed.
The shell struck the ground ahead.
Explosion.
Shock rebounded.
Flames rolled back—
Hit its own hull.
Armor shattered.
Shock spread inside.
One tank shook violently.
Then stopped.
Another hatch burst open.
Door flung outward.
A soldier emerged halfway—
Not fully out—
Gravity slammed down again.
His motion froze.
Body crushed back.
Arm stuck in the hatch.
Unable to pull back.
Head dropped.
Next instant—
A unit member closed in.
No pause.
Body leaning forward.
Weapon rose from the side.
Dropped.
Short.
Clean.
End.
The hatch did not move again.
On another side—
Two members advanced together.
Left and right.
Steps aligned.
Close to the hull.
One handled the flank.
One pushed forward.
No communication.
Seamless coordination.
Outside the Ability Unit's gravity field—
Reinforcements had arrived.
Footsteps grew denser.
From afar.
Numbers increasing.
The line advanced forward.
Forming a semi-encirclement.
Arc closing.
Gaps filled.
Enemy forces were pressed into the center.
No retreat.
Someone tried to fall back.
Turned—
Stopped.
Path already blocked.
Another side closing in.
Space compressed.
Gravity sank again.
Movements slowed.
Breathing shortened.
Reactions dulled.
Attacks came from multiple directions.
No gaps.
No pause.
The enemy had no chance to respond.
Weapons raised—
Pressed down again.
Actions incomplete.
The line collapsed completely.
Until the end—
The field gradually quieted.
Only residual smoke remained.
Heat lingered in the air.
The ground still radiated warmth.
——
News of overwhelming victory reached command.
The communications room lit up again.
Signals stable.
Voices clear.
"Frontline… concluded…"
"Results confirmed…"
Everyone in the room looked up.
Someone strode to the table.
Picked up records.
Flipped quickly.
The upper command erupted.
Footsteps increased.
Doors opened and closed repeatedly.
People stood.
Sat.
Voices lowered—
But more frequent.
Documents passed constantly.
Hands from one side to another.
Pages turning without pause.
With an unimaginable minimal cost—
They achieved maximum victory.
Someone stopped.
Finger pressed on the table.
No words.
Breathing became audible.
Decision made—
The Ability Unit would expand to a 300-man battalion.
Documents rewritten.
Numbers marked clearly.
The writing steady.
It became the core tactic.
The document was placed on top.
Not pressed down.
Years later—
A battalion expanded into a 1,000-man regiment.
New documents placed beside.
Numbers changed again.
Neatly written.
Capable of facing a conventional army.
Records kept accumulating.
Page after page.
Stack thickened on the table.
Under Iosef's command, the Ability Unit achieved repeated victories.
Different times.
Different locations.
Operations recorded again and again.
Night raids.
Advances.
Clearing.
Suppression.
His name appeared repeatedly in reports.
Frontline winds.
Firelight.
Ground tremors—
Condensed into a few lines.
But frequency increased.
Records passed between files.
Pages flipped again and again.
A foreign designation began to appear.
At first—scattered mentions.
Later—standardized.
The Valcyr Reaper.
Printed on paper.
Black.
Clear.
Someone paused upon seeing it.
Eyes lingered.
No words.
The file moved on.
The Ability Unit reached a thousand members.
Formation reorganized.
Roster updated.
Numbers increased.
Training grounds grew denser with footsteps.
Longer formations.
After reaching the limit—
Discussion did not last long.
One thousand.
The number was confirmed repeatedly.
No further increase.
The pen stopped on the paper.
Decision made—build another unit instead.
New document drawn out.
Renumbered.
One thousand had become the ceiling.
Once written—
It was not crossed out.
Any more—
Risked loss of control.
Silence returned.
Someone tapped the table lightly.
No sound amplified.
For the nation—
It was a double-edged sword.
If rebellion occurred—
Suppression would be difficult.
The file was closed.
The table returned to order.
The light remained steady.