VR WARS Volume II - Coalition Army

THE GREAT STEPPE

Inside the Virtual World,

Operation Zitadelle,

Kursk, 1943

The gigantic yellow belt of grassland, dried of water and starved out of any trees, stretched far and wide with not a wisp of cloud to soften the harsh rays that fell on its visitors. Merely the occasional barren and lone hill could be seen at a distance, sticking out like a dune in a desolated desert.

‘The Great Steppe’ was its name.

The birthplace of the Steppe Route, which in turn opened the way to the Silk Road that connected East and West and was home to tribal confederations, ancient states, and nomadic empires, such as the Mongol Empire, the vast ecoregion stretched from Bulgaria all the way to Manchuria. But it was in Russia, almost three hundred kilometers from Moscow, at a place called Kursk, that the great battle unfolded.

At the end of the countdown that had begun ever since they had logged in, everyone began to move into position, kicking dust clouds into the air so big that they could almost be mistaken for actual dust storms.

From high ground, overviewing the battlefield, Big Richie watched the thousands of students dressed in German grey and camouflaged green smock uniforms carrying weapons and all kinds of equipment marching towards the front. Even more breathtaking than the swarms' infantry were the armored formations at the head of the column. Forming up into several rows, hundreds of tanks, armored cars, trucks, and light vehicles woke their engines into a collective roar, depriving the peaceful countryside of its enchanting stillness and turning it into a modern-aged industrialized district. Closing right behind the onslaught of man and machine, and placed at the rear, a grand battery of a hundred guns belonging to the UL’s contingent prepared to move as well. Nearby, concealed by camouflage nets, were dozens of tall-shaped black pyramids—the supply depots where countless crates and barrels filled with fuel and ammunition were stacked on top of each other, ready to feed the war machine.

“Woah, this is unreal.”

“…Hard to imagine this happened eighty-something years ago.”

“And we’re the vanguard, will be in the thick of it. Every gun the IF has at the front will be aimed at us first!”

“First, last, it’s all the same, ain’t no one gonna get outta here alive.”

“Woah, Kat, your optimism is staggering!”

“Alright, let’s get a move on,” the UAT’s second-in-command, Big Richie, cut the chit-chat that was treading on dangerous grounds. He knew they needed to be motivated because every little wound in a combat scenario could have dire consequences, and sheer willpower strengthened everything in that game, including their capacity to absorb lethal damage. Their second official battle in the competition, Okinawa, although a terrible defeat for him, his friends, and comrades, had alerted them to the terrifying truth of modern warfare.

At their worst hour, when his students needed him the most, he had been killed not by bullets but by a piece of flying shrapnel that miraculously cut his throat. Carlos, who skeptically argued with Kat over their survivability rate, had been burned to death by a flamethrower; his HP was sucked out of his health bar in seconds. Kat, on the other hand, was favored with a more humane death, killed instantly by a well-placed shot through the heart. In short, all of them there had died tragic deaths more than once, but it was the trauma of defeat from the chaotic and loud modern combat that surpassed all other victories they had gained, except for him, our leader. Big Richie looked up towards the top of the slope, where Angelo quietly mesmerized the blue sky. He was absent at that time, but he’s here with us now. However, he’s here, and at the same time, he’s not; ever since Valentino’s broadcast, he’s been quiet, and I know why.

“Wait a moment, everyone,” Angelo’s voice reached everyone, even when he was standing far away and before he realized he was already walking among them. “What’s the range on that radio?”

“We’re still clustered pretty well, so everyone on our side should be able to pick the signal fairly good,” answered Sofia, who carried a portable field radio the size of a rucksack on her back.

“What’s dat ya thinking, Angie-boy?”

The young Azorean Commander, refraining from answering Kat’s question, picked up the transmitter. On his order, Sofia turned up the signal that reached everyone in the coalition, but just as she was beginning to implement safety procedures for the shortwave signal to avoid being monitored and intercepted by the Iberian Federation, Angelo told her to stop, brusquely stating, “Let those bastards hear if they want,” before commencing his real message.

He began by breathing deeply, taking a more condescending tone that was entirely out of his character in the eyes of everyone. “It’s been more than a thousand years since our country’s birth. As a nation, we’ve grown, we’ve invented, discovered, and revolutionized…we’ve done wrong, and we’ve done right. As a people, we have faced many hardships over the centuries, and many of these were brought about by our neighbors – these so-called Iberian brothers.”

Upon attentively listening to every word coming out of Angelo’s mouth, it was then that a realization came to Big Richie. Unlike Valadão, who gave triumphant, yet delusional speeches before the battle to motivate the students, and even after, whenever Angelo used his catchphrase on himself and others as a means of stimulation to prepare for a decisive confrontation, this time Angelo was going in a whole different direction. The calm speech was steady, turning up a notch with each sentence, slowly increasing its intensity so that every word did not escape their earholes. At first, Big Richie questioned why his Commander would go on to ramble about the past, then when he looked at the growing anger in everyone’s expression, it hit him, and the realization came forth. This is a new way! A way that would only work if both sides hated each other this much, by reminding the students of the suffering of countless generations…he’s rousing them! Rousing them with nothing but hatred for the enemy!

“At every corner of the road that could have led us to a better tomorrow, these bastards blocked our way with treachery, invasions, death. But for hundreds of years, we have always managed to push them back! So let them know now of our anger, let everyone know, and speak of the calamity we will bring to them on this day!”

The speech, resonating at a deeper level, worked its magic, striking hard at everyone’s hearts and minds. Much to Pedro and Rui’s contempt, who wanted a fast advance, people flocked towards the closest radio to listen, stopping all movement and bringing the entire column to a complete halt. Whether they were listening to him in person or through the radio, or whether they belonged to UAT, UC, or UL mattered not. It could very well be said that Angelo’s passionate speech hooked everyone.

Suddenly, people were clenching their fists, furiously grinding their teeth. Although they kept quiet, their eyes screamed with devoted fervor, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotion that threatened to claim their sanity. Whatever patriotic feeling they had lost along the way had now been restored. Realizing the incredible growth his friend had undergone in such a short period, tears started to accumulate in Big Richie’s eyes.

“Look behind you, towards your roots for strength! All those who came before, all the millions of people, the past generations who paved the way for us to be here, will undoubtedly stand here with us today to witness the onslaught we’re about to unleash! These sons of bitches brought shame onto us, they’ve spit on our nation’s pride, so I say this now, to all of you…we kill them all!”

As the coup of grace was delivered, whether that was by mere chance or niftily planned, the red flames that constituted Angelo’s AWP broke free of their cage and exploded into a gigantic fireball. To most who had only watched this event through videos and replays of the battle of Teutoburg, it was a sight for sore eyes; their leader enveloped in a magnificent radiance was nothing but awe-inspiring. If the speech didn’t do the trick, this stunt certainly did when everyone erupted into a cheer, the UAT’s very own motto.

“““No quarter, no quarter!”””

At the rear, stationed closer to the artillery position, where the headquarters for the entire coalition was located, Pedro and Rui watched the thousands of students under their command brimming with new fire. The many shouts coming from the vanguard, which was more than two kilometers away, alerted the many students of the UC and UL to the transformation occurring at the UAT. Never before had they witnessed such high morale; their warcry and thirst for vengeance beckoned to light heaven on fire.

“If they showed no mercy to us, their allies, during our training…We can only imagine what they’ll do to the Iberians today,” observed Pedro, with a trace of envy in his voice for not being the one to start the whole thing which Rui quickly picked up. “I wouldn't be worried if I were you. That mongrel might have riddled everyone to unknown levels of strength, but he just committed political suicide in doing it.”

Knowing full well that the repercussions of instigating such hatred would certainly fall on Angelo and perhaps the entirety of the UAT institution from their government and the Iberian Federation as well, Pedro agreed with his friend. But at the same time, capitalizing on this sudden momentum and craving to retake back their place in the spotlight, Pedro and Rui announced over the radio, “Victory or Death.” A statement that prompted their students even further from their sanity with many screaming “No retreat” and “No mercy” as they resumed their advance through the dusty plains.

“Well then, I’m off.”

“Remember, Rui,” Pedro saw fit to give one last warning to his Commander-in-chief, “Our artillery is reserved for Angelo’s advance in the center, but should anything happen on the left or right, do not hesitate to request support. It will be given.”

“I appreciate that, Supreme Commander.”

It was agreed a day before that the entirety of the UC’s firepower, its hundred gun battery, would be given to Angelo and his armored vanguard to facilitate their efforts in reaching Kursk. However, unknown to the ‘Angel of Death,’ Pedro valued his institution and Rui’s well above the non-prodigy-based UAT. And while both attacking forces on the flanks contained four thousand troops, supported by two hundred tanks and countless other supporting vehicles that far outnumbered the center force under Angelo, Pedro would be in a position to snatch away whatever support he gave to his nemesis, at a moment’s notice, depending on the situation. But this was not entirely without reason; if any of the flanking forces came to a halt while the UAT pushed its way forward, the enemy could take advantage of the stalled wings and crush Angelo with an envelopment. Thus, no matter what resentment he felt towards Angelo, the country's most prodigious man tried to keep his feelings away and focus on winning. For that, a continuous advance across all fronts, center, right, and left, was necessary, and his secret weapon to achieve that was not the people in the vanguard but the students he had drilled hard, handling the guns at the rear.

At the Supreme Commander’s orders, the dry country would be showered in a monsoon of deadly steel, pulverizing the enemy frontline to a crisp, leaving nothing but dirt and ashes. The UAT’s advance would be pushed back after a full hour of relentless barrage had passed; this was to properly soften up whichever defenses the IF had in place and maximize the damage made while avoiding serious casualties, thus saving their strength to deal with the inevitable counter-attacks that would come. Meanwhile, the flanking forces would conduct recognizance and mount their own attacks at their discretion, clearing the threat of having the UAT getting pincered from overstretching its lines.

“It’s time…” the man said, looking at the time through his menu window as he was mesmerized by the holo map viewable only to him, the disposition of each unit, and making sure everyone was where it was supposed to be. “All guns commence firing!”

The thunderous spectacle had begun.