I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

The sister city behind Como City, Volga, had not fared any better. They were responsible for continuously supplying Como City with fresh troops and various materials, while also assembling the limited number of heavy artillery pieces that Ernesto possessed.

The wide riverbanks where supplies were gathered naturally became prime targets for the Alliance Air Force. Often, a battalion of several hundred soldiers would board boats, yet by the time they reached the opposite shore, only sixty to seventy percent remained. The river itself had been dyed red with blood.

As more anti-air linked machine guns were manufactured and put into use, the Alliance’s air superiority gradually began to wane, and the number of heavy weapons they deployed on the battlefield started to decline after reaching its peak.

The main heavy armored army group was withdrawn for rest, replaced by reserve forces that continued to pour into Como City, engaging in brutal combat with the Ernesto Red Army. The battle gradually devolved into a grinding infantry war between both sides.

The Alliance commander frowned deeply as he looked at the operation map, the icons representing divisions under each army group densely packed together. The war had reached a stage where it had become nothing more than a tactic of piecemeal reinforcement.

Yet it could not be said that this approach was ineffective. Each day, the Alliance still managed to push forward, if only slightly. At this rate, their predetermined objective—fully capturing Como City and subsequently occupying the entire state—remained achievable.

He paid little attention to Volga behind Como City. After days of fighting, the Alliance had suffered tens of thousands of casualties; the enemy must have suffered even more severe losses.

Once Como City fell, Volga would have little strength left to mount any counterattack.

What concerned him most now was the supply of ammunition and fuel. Those damned Ernesto fighters were like rats in the sewers, burrowing holes across this land.

From time to time, they would emerge to ambush and sabotage supply convoys, blow up ships, block canals—one despicable tactic after another.

Such actions forced him to carefully ration the remaining fuel and ammunition, while also redeploying fresh troops from both flanks into Como City for the final decisive strike.

He had completely forgotten that this land belonged to them in the first place.

“Tap… tap…”

Heavy footsteps caused faint tremors across the ground. From the base of a collapsed wall, half a head slowly emerged, revealing a pair of beautiful sky-blue eyes.

Whether from the cold or tension, her body trembled slightly. As the female soldier saw the mechanical body approaching, she instinctively tightened her grip on the spike mine gun in her hands.

When the enemy passed by and exposed its back, she sprang up and thrust the weapon into the mechanical body’s thigh. The pressure-triggered fuse was activated, and she felt a powerful force surge through the long weapon, sending her crashing back into the ruins.

The shaped-charge armor-piercing warhead had already fulfilled its purpose, breaking through and disabling the mechanical body’s shield.

The mechanical soldier reacted instantly, turning back and slashing toward the ruins. A flash of magical blade light swept through, followed by an explosion that kicked up clouds of dust and debris. Wisps of blood mist spread through the air.

For a mechanical body, losing its shield was fatal. To reduce weight, its material itself did not possess strong defensive properties. The commotion quickly drew attention from others. As the mechanical soldier attempted to flee, it was struck by another spike mine, being roasted alive from the inside.

If even mechanical soldiers suffered such a fate, the situation for ordinary soldiers was even more unbearable.

Grenades and Molotov cocktails were everywhere, making life miserable for small squads. Larger groups fared even worse—because the Ernesto Red Army had begun equipping large numbers of light grenade launchers. Any slight concentration of troops would immediately attract waves of bombardment, and the scattered rubble on the ground became the most lethal killer.

Watching the flames of war spread ever closer day by day, the Red Army soldiers stationed at the granary could not help but grow anxious.

The granary was the lifeline of an army, heavily protected. Yet as time passed, more and more of their comrades were redeployed to reinforce frontline defensive positions, while the enemy drew ever nearer.

Most of them had come from serf backgrounds—no one understood the importance of grain better than they did. If the enemy could approach the granary, the fate of those comrades on the frontlines was all too clear.

Platoon Leader Lyle sensed the shift in morale among the soldiers. He saw it clearly but said nothing, instead directing everyone to continue reinforcing the granary’s defenses.

Work more, talk less. When you worked, you felt tired—and that reminded you that you were still alive.

“Platoon Leader, my mother told me to enlist and drive out the enemy. The generals and marshals say it’s to protect our GM成果, but I’ve never been to school… I don’t understand what that means.”

As they sat together eating dinner, a female voice rose from the group, drawing Lyle’s attention.

He set down his bread and looked at her. The girl had dry, short hair that barely reached her neck. Her thin face made her eyes appear unusually large, filled with innocent confusion. Her frail body still carried the signs of youth.

Among the several dozen people in the platoon, aside from half being young and middle-aged men, the other half were Ernesto civilians who had joined later in the defense—men and women of all ages.

Most of them had only received basic military training before being sent to the battlefield. They had heard slogans about defending their homeland but little explanation beyond that. Questions like the girl’s were not uncommon. Lyle sighed softly before replying with a smile:

“The fruits of GM victory… you can think of it as the benefits we can all enjoy.”

The people around him grew interested and began asking:

“What benefits, Platoon Leader?”

“I know one—my family has land now! With land, we can survive.”

“I’m more curious about what life is like in the Alliance, Platoon Leader.”

Lyle’s gaze grew distant, his voice carrying a hint of reminiscence:

“There are many benefits… In the future, no one will take your cattle away. You’ll have your own land to farm.”

“There will be no tribal chiefs, no masters.”

“Roads and railways will connect everywhere.”

“And in the future, your descendants—regardless of gender—will be able to go to school and read.”

An older man smiled and said, “If that’s really the case, I’d be willing to die once for my sons and grandsons to live comfortably.”

“I would too.”

“If we must die, then so be it—we’ll still drive them out!”

“If girls can study in the future… then I can too! But… I hope my mother, who’s guarding the docks, can survive.”

“Bang! Bang!”

A series of nearby gunshots startled everyone. They quickly grabbed their bread and rushed back to their combat positions. Through his binoculars, Lyle saw a large number of Alliance soldiers emerging in the distance, and his heart sank.

There was no need to say it—he already knew the frontline positions guarding the granary had completely fallen.

“The enemy is here! Move, move, move! Machine gunners, get ready! Loaders, remember the ammo crate positions! Assistant gunners, keep the belts fed!”

“Do not expose any part of your body lightly! Do not fire carelessly and reveal your position! Recall the shooting guidance your instructors taught you—aim carefully!”

“Company D and Company E defend the first floor! Company A secure the rooftop! If you spot heavy firepower or armored units, take them out immediately!”

“Comrades, remember this—Ernesto is vast, but we have nowhere left to retreat.”