The first sound to shatter the silence was the screech of rending steel.
Sir Romeni lunged, his greatsword carving through the barrel of the nearest tank—a Wolf-Tusk that had tried to lock onto him from twenty meters away. His blade, shrouded in a brilliant golden aura, sliced through the 105mm barrel as if it were soft butter. Inside, the crew screamed—not from terror, but from the violent backlash of their exploding hydraulic systems. The tank stalled. Dead.
"Stonewall is down!" Gideon's voice crackled through the command tank's radio, distorted by static. "The crew—all three—confirmed KIA!"
Leofric didn't respond immediately. He stood beside his own tank, the Iron Will, which remained unscathed for now. His eyes burned as he stared at the mangled wreckage of the Stonewall. He remembered their names. Two veterans from Northveil, and a fresh recruit from Iron Hearth. Only hours ago, they were joking about breakfast. Now, they were nothing but acrid smoke and twisted metal.
