The night sky above the Rossian frontlines thundered with a sound like the wrath of heaven itself.
"Boom!"
A single shot tore through the silence of the cold night. The massive weapon in Tania's small hands flared like a miniature sun. Fire and smoke erupted from the muzzle, forming a violent gust that swept through the trenches below.
The shell casing flew free—a piece of metal so large she could barely grip it with one hand.
Another deafening crack followed, the bullet cutting through the air faster than the human eye could follow.
From the perspective of the Rossian soldiers watching below, it was like seeing a god descend in wrath. The moon hung faintly above as a massive knight was blown apart mid-air—his steel armor shredded like paper, his flesh bursting into a mist of blood and fire.
The 20mm anti-tank round tore straight through his triple-layered armor and obliterated his body beyond recognition.
Even Tania, despite her magically reinforced suit and shock absorbers, was thrown backward half a meter from the recoil. The sheer power of the weapon was monstrous.
"What in the world kind of gun is that?" gasped one soldier. "It didn't just kill him—it erased him!"
The soldiers around him stared in disbelief as blood and bits of flesh rained down, splattering over their helmets and masks. They wiped it off in disgust, tossing away chunks of meat that landed at their feet.
"Don't throw that away!" a voice suddenly shrieked.
From behind the lines came the army doctor, a thin man with round glasses, sprinting forward and waving his gloved hands frantically. "That's the flesh of a Great Knight! Every piece of it is useful!"
Without hesitation, he crouched down and started collecting the remains with trembling excitement, placing them carefully into a metal box. His eyes gleamed with obsession.
"The flesh of a Great Knight can be refined into Compound No. 1, the most potent alchemical reagent! Each piece is worth a fortune!" he said, almost lovingly as he scraped up blood from the snow.
At that moment, a small figure descended from the clouds.
Her frame was barely 1.3 meters tall—delicate, almost childlike. But she carried herself with an aura of command that made hardened soldiers step back instinctively. Her uniform, one size too small, hugged her slender body. Twin metal boxes were strapped to her legs, connected by glowing conduits to a power core mounted on her back.
The exoskeletal braces on her legs gleamed in the moonlight, and jets of blue flame hissed softly beneath her boots as she landed.
Tania's silver eyes flicked toward the doctor. Without saying a word, she swung her massive L3920MIM anti-magic sniper rifle—a weapon nearly two meters long and weighing over fifty kilos—and dropped it squarely onto him.
"Ahhh!" the doctor screamed as he collapsed under the weight, pinned to the ground.
Even the battle-hardened Rossian soldiers froze. None of them could comprehend the scene before their eyes: a petite girl, barely reaching their shoulders, wielding a weapon that should require two grown men to lift.
The contrast was unreal—like watching a porcelain doll crush steel.
An officer nearby rubbed his chin, awe mixing with disbelief. "This… this is one of our Magic Mobile Units."
Indeed, the empire's secret weapon stood before them.
That single squad had just annihilated the envoy force of Duke Leonhart—ten knights and four Great Knights, all reduced to blood mist. The Duke's entire envoy had been destroyed. On the Rossian side, only two soldiers had fallen.
Gavin Ward, commander of the Rossian armies, had struck first—declaring war before Duke Leonhart could even send his formal declaration. The Duke's envoys, who had arrived with gifts and words of peace, were nothing but a ruse.
Leonhart's plan was a classic deception—offering friendship with one hand while secretly gathering his army with the other. But Gavin Ward's intelligence network was far sharper than the Duke had anticipated.
Through his spies, he learned that Leonhart's army of three hundred thousand troops had already begun mobilizing near the border, preparing for an invasion of the Rossian Empire.
Without this discovery, Gavin might have believed the Duke's words of "peace" and fallen for his trap. Instead, he chose to strike first—his pre-emptive move shocking the continent.
---
High above the battlefield, dozens of half-orc girls soared through the night sky, their exosuits glowing with ethereal blue light. They moved like comets, each carrying a weapon that looked too heavy for even a grown man.
Their forms—slender, graceful, and almost fragile—contrasted sharply with the enormous rifles and rocket launchers slung across their backs.
It was beauty wrapped in destruction.
"How's the situation?" asked one of them—a tall girl with ivory skin, long legs, and silver-white hair that streamed behind her in the wind. Her voice came through the radio transmitter clipped to her shoulder.
"Report received," replied another voice through the static. "We've confirmed the Duke's main force ahead—three hundred thousand troops, six hundred magicians. A hundred of them have advanced magic supply devices, and their front-line armor uses double barrier shields. Even our standard 98K rifles can't pierce them easily."
The silver-haired girl frowned. "Understood. Withdraw for now. We'll recharge and prepare for a surprise strike."
"Copy that."
The radio went silent. The girl loosened the scarf around her neck, exhaling a faint sigh. "So they really are camping that close," she murmured. "Seems Duke Leonhart isn't afraid of provoking the Empire after all."
As the scarf slipped, the faint outline of stitches became visible on her pale neck—evidence of the cruel experiments once done to her. Around her, the other half-orc girls bore similar scars, faintly glowing under the moonlight.
Each of them had once been a prisoner of the Tongsley Empire's laboratories, tortured and dissected for experiments on magical hybrids.
Gavin Ward had rescued them himself during a covert mission deep within enemy territory. Rather than abandon them, he offered them purpose—and vengeance. Now, they were his most elite unit: the Girl Mobile Unit, soldiers born of tragedy, reforged by steel and fire.
Their power came not just from magic, but from the technology embedded in their very bodies—enhanced nervous systems, synthetic muscle fibers, and wings of mana that allowed them to dance through the air like falcons.
Each of them had sworn loyalty not to the empire, but to Gavin personally.
Below them, the Rossian camp glowed faintly, its soldiers working tirelessly through the night. The war with Duke Leonhart had officially begun.
---
Tania landed beside her comrades, her expression unreadable as she cleaned the blood from her weapon.
The officer from before approached cautiously, clearing his throat. "Captain Tania… the Duke's forces will likely counterattack by dawn. What are your orders?"
She tilted her head slightly, the moonlight reflecting off her pale hair. "Tell Commander Ward that the enemy's magician corps must be neutralized first. Once they lose their shielders, their entire formation will collapse."
Her tone was calm, almost casual, as if she were discussing the weather.
The officer hesitated. "But… with only your unit, Captain, the risk—"
Tania looked up, silver eyes flashing. "Risk?" She smiled faintly. "Tell him that's why we were created."
The officer swallowed hard, then saluted sharply.
As she turned back toward her rifle, the faint hum of her power core filled the air. The blue flames reignited beneath her boots.
Tonight, the Girl Mobile Unit would become legend.
They would fly through the darkness like ghosts, tearing through armies ten times their size. Each one carried the weight of vengeance, but also the faith of a man who believed in them—Gavin Ward, the commander who saw monsters and called them heroes.
And so, under the cold stars and the whisper of jetfire, the small figures rose again into the night, their weapons gleaming like falling meteors.
The war drums of the Rossian Empire echoed across the horizon.
The Age of the Girl Mobile Unit had begun.
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