Chapter 541: Seizing the Delta Outpost.
Mia Frostine’s POV
The next morning arrived with biting wind and restless skies. We gathered at the outskirts of the capital where the recon units waited, already geared up and briefed. Their expressions were solemn. No jokes, no small talk—just sharp eyes and quiet movements. War changes people quickly.
Seraphine was the first to arrive. Dressed in dark tactical gear, her twin blades strapped across her back like she was born for battle. Her eyes were fierce, but she gave me a nod of recognition. She wasn’t the type to waste time with pleasantries.
Nock followed, holding a thick manual under one arm—probably his latest revised doctrine on battlefield defense formations. He greeted a few priests who were embedded in the recon force. Their light armor and holy relics shimmered faintly under the grey dawn. Unlike Seraphine, Nock had always preferred a more structured approach—calculations, divine alignment, and shields strong enough to break sieges.
I stood between the two of them, dressed in standard-issue officer’s gear, the emblem of the War Council sewn into the collar. My presence alone drew attention. The younger soldiers looked to me with a mix of curiosity and expectation. I was younger than most commanders they had served under—probably younger than a few of their squad leaders. But I was their superior now. They saluted, and I returned it with a calm nod.
With a sharp signal, we boarded the military transports. Modified heavy-armored trucks, reinforced for demon terrain. I could hear the engines rumble beneath me as the convoy rolled out.
Eighteen hours.
The roads were rough, not just in terrain but in memory. Burnt forests, crumbled fort walls, abandoned carriages still carrying the scent of blood. We passed by more than one ruined village, the stench of scorched corpses thick in the air. Nock led prayer sessions midway through the journey, whispering words of grace for the fallen. Seraphine barely glanced at the bodies. I couldn’t blame her.
I didn’t pray. I watched. Studied the terrain. Noted potential ambush spots. It wasn’t detachment—it was preparation. I had seen too many optimistic leaders fail because they let emotion rule before a battle.
We finally reached a small town near the Delta Outpost just before midnight.