The border map was spread across the table.
The sheet was large.
It covered the entire surface.
The corners were held down.
Each of the four corners had a different object.
One was a metal paperweight.
One was a thick folder.
The other two were pressed down by hands.
It did not curl.
Light shone from above.
Steady.
No flicker.
The lampshade blocked most of the direct glare.
Only an even brightness remained.
The lines on the map appeared sharp.
Mountain ranges rose and fell in lines.
Connected one after another.
Shadows were marked with dense strokes.
Rivers were traced in thin blue lines.
Flowing from high to low.
Curving.
Branching.
Merging in places.
Roads were marked finer.
Almost clinging to terrain.
Passing through mountain passes.
Running along riverbanks.
Spreading out across flat ground.
Different colored markers were scattered.
Red.
Blue.
Some dense.
Nearly overlapping.
Some sparse.
Scattered.
The contested border region was circled.
The line slightly thicker.
More prominent than others.
Small-scale battles occurred there year-round.
Markers kept shifting in that area.
A finger nudged one marker.
A red flag moved slightly.
Stopped at a new position.
Another hand pushed a blue marker forward.
Then stopped.
Advance.
Another hand pulled it back.
Retreat.
The fingers hovered above the map.
No further movement.
Advance again.
Markers shifted back and forth in the same area.
Positions overlapped repeatedly.
New traces pressed over old ones.
Someone picked up a pencil.
Drew a new arrow.
Pointing forward.
Stopped halfway.
The tip hovered.
Then crossed it out.
Drew again beside it.
Shorter arrow.
Crossed out again.
Faint marks remained on the paper.
Troops from both sides increased.
Originally scattered points.
Gradually converging.
Drawing closer.
Spacing shrinking.
Connecting into clusters.
The red zone expanded.
The blue zone expanded as well.
Boundaries blurred.
At one camp.
No one spoke around the table.
A finger pressed lightly on the map.
Stopped at a position.
No movement.
Breathing was faint.
Almost inaudible.
The command room was troubled by the map.
The air felt heavy.
Someone exhaled softly.
Short.
The finger lifted.
A shallow dent remained.
Because of several nearby small countries.
Their territories were small on the map.
Compressed along the edges.
But tightly positioned.
Borders crowded together.
Almost intersecting.
Using terrain advantage, they could gather all forces here.
Someone tapped between those regions with a pen.
Tip down.
Lifted.
Distances between points were short.
Lines tangled.
Compressed together.
This dragged down the country's lack of decisive offensive power.
Someone drew a long arrow.
From rear to frontline.
It extended halfway.
Stopped.
The tip hovered.
Then slowly withdrew.
The arrow remained unfinished.
Silence returned.
Fingers tapped occasionally.
Knuckles touching the table.
A soft sound.
But on the other hand—
If one front reversed—
A finger slid quickly across the map.
From one point to another.
Arrows were redrawn.
Direction changed.
Lines extended further.
Then they would have the capacity to deal with another front.
The other side of the map was relatively empty.
Fewer markers.
Clearly more open space.
The Ability Unit's exercise results.
The report lay at the corner of the table.
Flat.
No creases.
Edges neat.
It showed the higher command a possibility.
Someone pulled the report closer.
Pressed a finger on it.
Opened it.
Pages lifted.
Then fell.
A faint sound.
Eyes moved across the text.
Stopped on one line.
Then continued downward.
The Ability Unit's first operation—decisive.
A finger tapped that line lightly.
Silence returned.
The report was closed.
Pushed back into place.
——
Late at night.
The air was cold.
Temperature had dropped noticeably.
Breath turned faintly white.
The ground was icy.
Footsteps echoed faintly.
The iron gate was shut.
Dark sheen on its surface.
Fine scratches marked the metal.
The hinges were silent.
The surroundings were still.
Lights on the watchtower remained fixed.
Beams cast downward.
Forming a bright patch.
A guard stood there.
Body straight.
Shoulders slightly tense.
Breathing steady.
Chest rising rhythmically.
His gaze swept forward.
Left to right.
Right to left.
No abnormalities.
Another soldier stood on the tower.
Hands gripping the railing.
Fingers tightening.
Knuckles pale.
He glanced down.
Then up again.
The next instant—
The air sank.
As if the entire space dropped.
No sound.
But everyone felt it.
The ground seemed heavier.
Boots pressed tight.
The iron gate let out a harsh distortion.
Metal dented inward.
Then twisted violently.
Structure collapsed instantly.
"Bang—"
The entire gate was blown away.
Hinges shattered.
Steel plate tore free.
It spun in the air.
Edges warped.
Tracing an arc.
Then slammed into the ground.
A dull impact.
The ground trembled.
Shock spread outward.
Dust lifted and scattered.
One guard's ankle collapsed inward.
He tried to steady himself.
Calf muscles tightened instantly.
But were suppressed.
Knee buckled sharply.
A faint crack.
Body dropped.
He reached out instinctively.
Palm hit the ground.
Tried to push up.
Arm exerted force—
Shoulder was pressed down.
Force crushed back.
Elbow folded.
Body flattened.
Breath cut off.
Chest paused.
He opened his mouth.
Only a short gasp came out.
Another soldier leaned forward.
Tried to retreat.
But couldn't lift his feet.
Soles stuck to the ground.
He forced a step.
Movement slowed.
Before one step—
He was already pressed down.
Knees hit the ground.
Then collapsed.
The soldier on the tower also sank.
Lost balance.
Dropped to his knees.
Hands gripped the railing.
Knuckles tightened.
Back forced down.
Spine bent.
Breathing became broken.
Each inhale short.
The center of gravity—
Was the Ability Unit commander, Iosef.
He stood at the gate.
Stable.
No visible movement.
Shoulders relaxed.
Posture natural.
But the air around him pressed downward continuously.
The ground seemed fixed.
Everything pulled in one direction.
His gaze remained forward.
Unchanged.
Next second—
Firelight.
Grenades launched from the rear.
Barrel slightly raised.
A flash in the night.
They flew out—
But not along normal arcs.
Trajectories bent downward.
Pulled by an invisible force.
Curves shortened.
Impact came early.
Directly crushing the target.
"Boom—"
Explosions chained together.
Shockwaves spread.
Ground shook.
Machine gun fire followed.
Continuous.
Dense.
Muzzle flashes flickered.
Bullets fired—
Should have traveled straight.
But deviated in air.
Pulled downward.
One grazed the ground.
Kicked up dirt.
Then rose—
Hit the target.
Another changed angle midair.
Cut in from the side.
Hit precisely.
Impacts chained.
Ground thudded repeatedly.
Someone tried to roll.
Body turned halfway—
Back pressed again.
Movement halted mid-action.
Fingers clawed at soil.
Earth displaced—
But no further movement.
Behind them—
Soldiers in special combat suits entered the gravity field.
Their steps landed clearly.
Steady rhythm.
No delay.
Movements unaffected.
Balance maintained.
Stride consistent.
Advancing.
Breathing stable.
One approached the target.
No pause.
Body slightly forward.
Weapon rose from below.
Short trajectory.
Struck.
Wrist tightened.
Force concentrated.
No pause.
Weapon withdrawn.
Steps continued.
No glance back.
Another cut in from the side.
Shifted laterally.
Body low.
Target tried to lift his head—
Attack had already landed.
Contact.
End.
Move again.
Continuous rhythm.
A third passed through a gap.
Steps alternating.
Stable.
Weapon up.
Down.
Clean.
Advance continued.
A one-sided annihilation unfolded.
No equal exchange.
Only forward push.
All members coordinated with Iosef.
Formation tight.
Spacing consistent.
Every step matched.
Some pressed forward.
Some filled gaps.
Flanks turned.
Cleaning remaining targets.
Seamless transitions.
No breaks.
Enemy lines collapsed rapidly.
Formation shattered.
Standing figures dwindled.
Fallen bodies increased.
Ground bore pressure marks.
Air filled with oppression.
Breathing grew difficult.
They could calculate bullet and grenade trajectories—
Helmets fit tightly.
Smooth outer shell.
Edges sealed.
Faint reflections on the surface.
Data streamed across vision.
Fine lines layered.
Trajectories marked.
Curves corrected in real time.
Impact points locked early.
Every shot—perfect.
Close combat within the gravity field—
Combat suits adhered to the body.
Fabric tight.
Joints stable.
No delay in movement.
Steps still powerful.
Balance maintained.
Anti-gravity suits and training—
Removed all interference.
Advance continued.
No pause.
Final defensive line crushed.
Remaining resistance vanished quickly.
The field grew quiet.
Only faint breathing remained.
And the lingering pressure.