The news of Germany's counterattack in the Bastogne sector spread like wildfire across the front, igniting waves of reaction throughout the Entente.
In France, voices that had long clamored for a decisive offensive grew louder, demanding even greater pressure on Germany. In London, the British debated adopting a stronger stance. Across the Atlantic, the United States grew doubtful and spoke of dispatching investigators to examine the situation at the front. Each capital stirred, each government recalculating its next move.
Within the German Empire, the report struck like thunder.
Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg, who had recently been in talks with Britain and the United States and was preparing for a new inspection tour, sat in silence when the message reached him. He knew all too well the terms some in France were pressing: to crush Germany completely—reduce its army to less than one hundred thousand men, ban artillery above 105 mm, forbid tanks and heavy machine guns, abolish the General Staff, and even allow Allied troops to garrison German soil.
From Germany's perspective, such demands were intolerable. If forced upon the Reich, Hindenburg was certain the army and people would rather fight to the last man than submit to humiliation.
Fortunately, France was not the sole master of the Entente. The British had yet to reveal their full intentions, and the Americans had not declared their position. French ambitions, though fierce, might still be checked.
And so, the news from Bastogne—that German troops had bloodied the overconfident French—carried with it a bitter satisfaction. Yet it also stirred unease. The French might seize on the skirmish, rally the Entente, and demand the armistice be torn up, resuming the offensive against Germany.
Still, in a nation shaken by defeat, even a small victory could stiffen resolve. It could restore a measure of pride and confidence. After careful thought, Hindenburg issued no order. The news, he decided, should be allowed to spread.
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On the front itself, Major Mainz had no inkling of the storm his actions were provoking abroad. Even if he had, he would hardly have cared.
He stood over the battlefield—wire twisted into grotesque knots, shattered guns still smoking, bodies strewn where they had fallen—and allowed himself a single nod of grim satisfaction. His men cleared the field in silence while he stepped aside, found a quiet patch of ground, and summoned the system.
Host: Lin Yu
Age: 22
Identity: Commander, 1st Battalion, 1st Guards Corps of the German Empire (Second Reich). Youngest son of Artillery General Eduard von Lewinsky. Junker nobleman from a military family.
Abilities:
Infantry Mastery — Elevates infantry to elite effectiveness.
Artillery Mastery — Commands guns at a master's level.
Unforgettable — Perfect recall of complex tactical and strategic designs.
Firearms Proficiency — Expert with pistols, rifles, machine guns, and sniper rifles.
Primary Armored Tactics — Entry-level command of armored operations.
[Task complete: Counterattack the French Army. Reward: 1000 system funds, 1 skill point. Unallocated skill points: 1. Distribute now?]
Lin Yu let out a long breath. Relief. And momentum.
He was not truly of this era. He was a traveler from a century ahead, and the system was the secret that gave him his edge. He knew the history that should have unfolded: the Treaty of Versailles shackling Germany, reparations bleeding the nation dry, foreign troops occupying her soil. Ten years of despair written into the lives of an entire people—unless something changed.
So he had chosen to resist. To rebuild. To restore the honor of the Reich.
If the Great War had been won with trenches and artillery, the wars to come would be decided by steel and speed—by tanks and armored divisions, doctrines no one yet fully understood.
Without hesitation, he spent the point.
[Primary Armored Tactics → Standard Armored Tactics. Current level can raise armored units to the average effectiveness of 1940.]
Not overwhelming at first glance. But in an age when most generals dismissed tanks as little more than curiosities, it was a leap decades ahead.
Boots pounded the trench floor. A runner burst into view, breath ragged, eyes wide with panic.
"Major! Major! The British iron monster—the so-called water 'tank'—it's coming!"
Lin Yu's mind sharpened instantly. The old battlefield nickname snapped into place.
He raised his binoculars, caught sight of the thing, and drew in a sharp breath.
Across the churned mud, belching smoke and grinding forward with unstoppable force, a British tank lumbered into view.
The machines of the future had arrived.
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