Miracle Card Shop: All My Cards Can Be Actualize

Chapter 386: Pecos River Skirmish - 01

— New Mexico - Pecos River —

The air crackled with tension at the New Mexico border, a volatile mix of anticipation and dread clinging to the dry desert air. The Pecos River, usually a ribbon of turquoise life, formed a stark line of division. On the far bank, the Confederacy's brazen expansion had stretched its territory like a hungry beast, swallowing everything in its path.

Across the river, the US Army stood defiant. A network of trenches snaked across the landscape, their jagged teeth lined with sandbags. Bunkers squatted like watchful sentries, their gun slits aimed directly at the encroaching enemy. Soldiers, faces grim under their weathered helmets, clutched their rifles, eyes constantly scanning the horizon for the glint of movement on the opposite shore.

Here, the silence was broken only by the occasional cough, the rustle of windblown sand, and the nervous click of a safety being released. It was a scene poised on a knife's edge, waiting for the spark that would ignite the inferno of war.

Across the churning Pecos River, the Confederate forces bristled with activity. Freshly dug trenches snaked along the opposite bank, their occupants a blur of movement as they fortified their positions. Tanks rumbled into pre-prepared positions, their hulking forms a constant reminder of the firepower the Confederacy possessed.

The oppressive silence was shattered only by the occasional crack of gunfire, a stark reminder of the fragile peace that held. This wasn't a war of constant barrages, but a tense standoff, a battle of nerves as grueling as any frontal assault.

The US Army faced a critical challenge. Sumner Fort, a key strategic stronghold, lay in Confederate hands. Worse, the bridge across the Pecos – their only path for a direct assault – was shielded by a technologically advanced defense system. Artillery barrages and drone strikes had proven useless, deflected by an invisible wall of energy.

A frontal assault on the bridge had been a disaster. The US forces, caught in a hail of machine gun fire, suffered heavy casualties. Now, they were forced to adopt a more cautious approach.

Their only hope rested on the imminent arrival of Astral PMC, a group of elite mercenaries known for their unconventional tactics and cutting-edge weaponry. Could they crack the Confederacy's enigmatic defense system and pave the way for the US Army to retake Sumner Fort?

A sleek armored car roared to a halt, disgorging three figures. At the forefront stood a Lieutenant, personally tasked by the President to ensure these two individuals received the utmost respect and cooperation from the front lines.

These two were none other than Daniel and Ragnar. Their arrival signaled a turning point in the stalemate. Intelligence suggested the Confederacy wasn't solely relying on brute force. The impenetrable barrier shielding the bridge and fort reeked of arcane magic, cleverly disguised as technology by the enemy mages.

The field commander, Colonel Parker, emerged briskly from his tent. Prior warning from Liberty House had designated these visitors as VVIP guests, capable of breaking the impasse.

"Colonel Parker," the Lieutenant greeted, extending a hand. "Allow me to introduce these esteemed gentlemen. This is Mr. Daniel Emberweave, founder of the Astral Group, which includes the formidable Astral PMC poised to bolster our ranks. He's also a brilliant inventor with a knack for unconventional solutions."

The Lieutenant discreetly leaned closer, his voice barely a murmur. "Mr. Emberweave is the key to cracking this situation. His companion, Mr. Ragnar Stenmark of the Stenmark Group, is a valued friend here to assist with... budgetary concerns.

Treat them both with the utmost respect, Colonel."

Colonel Parker, a man with a weathered face and a firm handshake, greeted them. "Mr. Emberweave, Mr. Stenmark," he said, his voice gruff but welcoming. "Welcome to the frontlines. We've been expecting you.

Your expertise is highly anticipated."

He gestured towards the entrance of his command tent, a modern, prefabricated structure illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. Tactical displays dominated the walls. Real-time troop movements and enemy positions blinked across the screens. The air crackled with a low hum of electronic equipment and hushed urgency.

Daniel, ever the picture of composure, scanned the displays with a practiced eye, his brow furrowed as he assessed the situation. Ragnar, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that seemed out of place amidst the battlefield setting, nonetheless moved with a surprising agility to examine the holographic topographical map hovering in the center of the room.

Colonel Parker pulled out sleek, modern chairs and sat down. The tension in the tent was undeniable, a cocktail of hope and the burden of responsibility hanging heavy in the air. The Lieutenant, perched on the edge of a nearby cot, watched nervously.

A silent prayer ran through his mind: Pleaseee, Parker, show them respect, just don't make them unhappy. The last thing he needed was another earful from Liberty House back in San Francisco if this Colonel Parker were to make them unhappy.

"Mr. Emberweave," Colonel Parker began, his voice firm but respectful, "let's cut to the chase." The Lieutenant's internal sigh of relief was almost comical, deflating like a punctured balloon.

"Our primary obstacle right now," Parker continued, gesturing towards a screen displaying a live feed from a drone. The image depicted a pulsating blue dome shimmering under the impact of artillery shells.

"This shield technology was employed by the Confederacy. It deflects our artillery and even the tactical cruise missiles HQ sent. Experts I consulted assured me it should be a massive energy drain, yet there's no sign of it faltering. We can't afford to wait any longer. Every passing moment sees their reinforcements grow stronger on the new border."

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Mr. Emberweave, can you offer a solution? Perhaps a technology from Astral that can crack this shield?"

The Lieutenant stole a glance at Daniel, hoping his own worried expression wasn't contagious. Whispers about Astral PMC's unconventional arsenal danced in his mind. Maybe they did possess some hidden weapon, a giant laser cannon perhaps, orbiting the Earth?

In truth, Daniel possessed such a weapon – a massive orbital cannon currently monitoring the Confederacy's nuclear arsenal. However, using it now wasn't part of the plan.

"I have two strike teams en route," Daniel said, his voice calm despite the Lieutenant's apprehension. "They're highly trained and possess the necessary skills to address this situation."

Colonel Parker's skepticism remained evident. "Two strike teams, Mr. Emberweave? We've lost hundreds of soldiers here already. Throwing untested methods at this problem, especially with civilian lives at stake, seems reckless."

Ragnar, the weathered veteran beside Daniel, let out a low chuckle. His eyes, lined with age but sparkling with a hint of mischief, met the Colonel's. "With all due respect, Colonel," he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of a Western drawl, "history is littered with battles won through unconventional tactics. Perhaps it's time to give them a chance to showcase Astral's capabilities."

Colonel Parker fell silent, his jaw clenched. While the idea of unconventional tactics wasn't entirely unwelcome, the prospect of relying on mercenaries rankled him. He held a general distrust for them – soldiers of fortune, he thought, with loyalty as fleeting as the highest bidder. He suspected Astral PMC wouldn't be any different.

They were likely skilled, yes, but ultimately self-serving, motivated by fat paychecks rather than the cause or the lives of his men. A cynical part of him couldn't help but think that if the plan failed, it wouldn't be his soldiers filling the body bags.

In fact, a failed mission could serve a dual purpose – solidifying his authority and removing these outsiders he was forced to work with. But orders were orders, especially those from Liberty House. He couldn't simply refuse their help.

Colonel Parker sighed, the decision etched with weariness. "Alright, Mr. Emberweave," he conceded, "I'll give you a chance."

Deep within, the Colonel harbored doubts. Though classified footage hinted at Astral's power armor technology, the details remained murky. He held onto a sliver of hope, but a cynical part of him believed a well-placed .50 BMG round would pierce through it all. This hope, however, was overshadowed by a bigger concern.

Daniel's smile, though genuine, didn't quite reach his eyes. He knew the Colonel hadn't fully bought in. Without a word, he tapped a number on his phone. A brief exchange, a curt order: "Start the operation."

A series of thunderous booms rattled the tent, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. A soldier, face pale with shock, burst through the entrance. "Colonel! Please come, sir! You have to see this!"

Without hesitation, the Colonel surged out, Daniel and Ragnar trailing behind at a more measured pace. Confidence radiated from Daniel's posture, a stark contrast to the Colonel's evident urgency. As for Ragnar, he knew exactly what unfolded outside.

The Colonel raised his binoculars, his jaw dropping at the scene before him. The Confederate defensive perimeter lay in ruins, craters dotting the landscape. A breathtaking spectacle unfolded above - a streak of azure light, like an ionizing pulse, descended from the heavens, striking the enemy fortifications with pinpoint precision.

"What the...? A giant laser in orbit?!" the Lieutenant blurted out, his voice a mix of awe and alarm.

Daniel chuckled. "Not quite, Lieutenant. Just some unmanned assault drones softening things up for the strike teams. Now, wouldn't you say this calls for a revised strategy, Colonel?"

A surge of hope, as vibrant as the blue energy pulse, coursed through Colonel Parker. Maybe, just maybe, this unconventional approach held the key to victory. The shield, once a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, lay shattered. These energy blasts seemed to bypass it entirely, leaving precise destruction in their wake.