Arin was still half-asleep when Bertho's voice cut through the quiet morning. "They've broken through." The words took a second to settle, but when they did, Arin shot upright, the fog in his mind vanishing instantly. "They what?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Bertho leaned against the tent frame, arms crossed, a faint grin on his face. "The forest line. It's done. Grandpa Karl says we're accelerating—clearing the rest fast." That was all Arin needed to hear. He swung his legs off the cot, fully awake now, thoughts racing ahead of him. For weeks, they had been stuck, bottlenecked by terrain, forced to fight in cramped, suffocating conditions where numbers meant nothing. But if the forest were truly breaking apart, then everything would change.
"That means they can deploy more troops," Arin said, already connecting the dots. "No more waiting, no more rotation delays…" Bertho nodded. "Exactly. The whole limitation disappears." Arin stepped outside, the cold air hitting his face as he looked toward the distant forest, where the dull roar of labor and battle blended into one constant sound. "Did they clear paths properly? The maneuver depends on mobility. If they mess that up, the whole plan falls apart." Bertho shrugged lightly. "They're cutting everything—trees, roots, stumps. Nothing's staying. They think it'll be fully cleared by tomorrow." Arin let out a low whistle. Even with cultivation, even with billions of people, that speed was absurd—but then again, so was everything else about this war.
"I had them set aside some wood for you," Bertho added casually. That caught Arin off guard. "Wood?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "For your arrows," Bertho said. "Figured you'd want to check it." Arin crouched by the pile and picked up a piece, turning it in his hands. One glance was enough. The grain was uneven, warped by unnatural growth. He clicked his tongue and tossed it back. "Firewood," he muttered. "Maybe usable for practice, but not worth the effort. Not without proper tools." Still, it had been a welcome distraction. Anything was better than endless meditation and fighting.
"We've got two hours before we relieve the next shift," Bertho said, shifting the topic. "I say we leave in one." Arin nodded immediately. "We'll need time to find them anyway. The line's moving too fast." Bertho smirked. "Already mapped it out." Arin chuckled. "Of course you did."
Far from the forest, deep within the massive command tent that served as the heart of the human war effort, the atmosphere was far more controlled—but no less charged. "They've broken through," Herman said, setting down the report with clear satisfaction. The other marshals looked up almost instantly, attention sharpening. "Full clearance expected by tomorrow. The bottleneck is gone." A quiet ripple of approval moved through the room. Xian exhaled slowly. "Finally. We can begin in earnest." Arun leaned forward, eyes fixed on the sprawling map. "This is where the real war starts. Movement instead of attrition."
That distinction mattered more than anything. Until now, humanity had been grinding forward inch by inch, trading lives for space in a battle that could not be sustained. But open terrain meant speed, coordination, and overwhelming force. It meant the kind of warfare humanity excelled at. "The only limitation now is supply," Xian added, his tone tightening. Herman glanced at him. "Chalk powder." Xian nodded grimly. "Magic circles require it. Without proper inscription, spells lose efficiency—or fail. And large-scale bombardment burns through it faster than we can produce."
Arun frowned slightly. "You profit from its use, don't you?" Xian gave a dry laugh. "I do. But try convincing every nation to spend their points on something they barely understand, especially at this scale." The numbers alone were enough to make anyone hesitate. Ten thousand points for a ton of chalk, followed by weeks of grinding it into usable powder. It wasn't just expensive—it was slow. Labor-intensive. Logistically exhausting. "They don't have a choice," Herman said simply. Xian sighed. "No. They don't."
Silence settled briefly before Arun tapped the map again, drawing their focus to a new concern. Two massive ravines cut across the terrain beyond the forest, forming a natural trap. "This is the real problem," he said. "If we push forward without securing the flanks, the goblins can stage forces here and hit us from behind." Herman's expression darkened slightly as he studied the map. "So we cut them off first." Xian nodded. "Both flanks. Simultaneously, if possible." "Do we have enough chalk for that?" Herman asked. Xian hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. "Barely. But we can make it work."
Arun leaned back slightly, a faint smile on his face. "Then we push hard and fast while they still underestimate us." That drew a few knowing looks. So far, the goblins had only faced an inexperienced human force—uncoordinated, inexperienced, and constrained by terrain. They had no real understanding of what humanity could do when fully mobilized. "And when they realize?" one of the marshals asked quietly. Arun's smile sharpened. "Then it becomes a real war."
Back at the edge of the forest, Arin and Bertho were already moving. The sounds of chopping, shouting, and distant combat filled the air as they made their way toward the front. The forest, once dense and oppressive, now looked wounded—trees felled, ground torn apart, sunlight breaking through in jagged beams. "It's almost over," Arin said, glancing ahead. Bertho nodded. "And when it is, everything changes." Arin smiled faintly, gripping his bow a little tighter.