Commander Shabaka wiped the sweat from his brow as he led the remnants of his force through the arid plains. They had started as a proud army of over a thousand warriors, but after the brutal air assault on Kandara, only 35 remained. The rest were lost to the relentless bombing, their bodies buried beneath the rubble of what had once been their stronghold.
The survivors moved in silence, their spirits crushed, their eyes hollow. The once mighty Matalebe warriors now limped, dragging their feet through the dust, haunted by the screams of their fallen comrades. Their bodies were bruised and battered, some still bleeding from shrapnel wounds, but there was no time to stop. They had to reach Moba.
"Three hours," Shabaka thought bitterly, looking at the horizon. "Just three hours and everything changed."
The sun was beginning to set when they finally arrived at Moba. Shabaka felt a strange sense of relief, hoping the city would offer them some reprieve, perhaps a small force they could rally with. But as they crested the hill and saw the city below, that hope crumbled.
Moba was gone.
What had once been a bustling center of life was now a smoldering ruin. The buildings were flattened, some still burning from the incendiary bombs dropped earlier. Thick black smoke hung in the air, suffocating the landscape. The silence was deafening, save for the crackling of flames and the occasional collapse of a structure.
Shabaka's heart pounded as he motioned for his men to follow. They descended into the city, but with each step, it became clear that no one had survived.
The streets were littered with bodies, dismembered and charred beyond recognition. All of the Matalebe soldiers that had once defended Moba were either dead or dying, their bodies twisted in unnatural positions, limbs scattered across the streets. The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and smoke, making it hard to breathe.
Commander Shabaka stepped cautiously over a severed arm, his eyes scanning the destruction in disbelief. This wasn't just a defeat—it was a massacre.
"I think—it was the same thing that attacked us in Kandara," one of his lieutenants, barely able to speak, whispered as he stared at the devastation before them. His voice trembled, echoing the fear and disbelief that gripped the few remaining soldiers.
Commander Shabaka, still staring at the devastation, pulled his radio from his belt with trembling hands. He could barely keep his voice steady as he pressed the button, forcing himself to report the nightmare he had just witnessed.
"This is Commander Shabaka..." His voice was hoarse, the words difficult to form as he tried to process the scene around him. "Moba... Moba has fallen. The city is gone. All of our soldiers—everyone—they're dead. The entire defense force...
Meanwhile, in the air, two fighter aircraft from the Triesenese Empire that took off from Votswana were cruising above Zambesi's vast plains.
Captain Friedrich Weiss, the lead pilot, kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, scanning for any signs of the Valorian bombers. His wingman, Lieutenant Karl Reinhardt, flew in tight formation beside him, his voice crackling through the radio.
"Captain, do you think they're still in the area?" Felix asked.
Weiss's jaw clenched as he responded, "If they're smart, they've already cleared out. But if they're still here, we'll find them."
"But what kind of bomber aircraft is it? There is no way it's Ruthenia or other major powers in Europa. They are too far from here and they don't have installations near the area."
"That is what we are going to find out," Weiss's grip tightened on the control stick as he scanned the skies for any sign of the Valorian bombers. The information they had been given was vague—no one knew exactly what kind of aircraft had caused such devastation to Kandara and Moba. What they did know was that the Matalebe forces had been decimated, and the source of the destruction was airborne.
"Captain," Reinhardt's voice crackled again through the headset. "We're approaching the last known coordinates where the bombers were reported. Do you think the Valorians have something more advanced than we're used to seeing?"
Weiss sighed, his mind racing. "I don't know, but they took out two entire cities. Whatever they're using, it's beyond what we've seen on this continent. Stay alert."
The sky ahead was clear, with nothing but open air and the rolling plains of Zambesi below. But the calm was unsettling—there should have been something. If the bombers were still in the area, they would have left some traces. Yet, the vastness of the airspace made it feel like they were searching for a needle in a haystack.
"Captain," Reinhardt's voice interrupted again. "I'm picking up something on the radar—faint, but it's there. Could be the bombers."
Weiss glanced down at his instruments, noticing the blip on the radar screen. "I see it. Adjust the heading, we're closing in. Maintain visual contact, and don't engage until we know what we're dealing with."
The two fighters banked left, adjusting their course toward the faint signal. As they closed the distance, the outline of an aircraft came into view.