Reincarnated with the Country System

21-6-1561 WC

.....

A low fog drifted across the outer fences of the Bernard Strategic Arsenal. The facility lay deep in the western hills, far from the capital, Rafa. Inside, rows of armored floodlights washed the concrete yards in pale blue.

In the main operations hall, men and women gathered around a long steel table. Their uniforms were plain, their faces set. Maps of the Indiana Empire glowed on the wall—vast coasts, mountain ranges, and the endless interior. Red circles pulsed over key cities and military zones.

Chief Planner Selene Varga stood at the head of the table. Her dark hair was pulled tight, her voice level. "We begin final targeting review. Emperor Alberto expects the strike plan in twelve hours. The warheads will be ready before dawn."

The room went silent. Everyone knew what that meant.

General Artur, commander of the Strategic Rocket Corps, tapped a control. The map shifted, showing a clean outline of Indiana's heartland. "Primary objectives," he said. "Command nodes, shipyards, important cities. If we hit these first, they cannot recover."

He pointed to a bright red mark near the center of the continent. "The capital. Their imperial command. A direct strike here would cripple coordination."

Selene nodded once. "Estimated casualties?"

"Initial yield: five megatons. Immediate deaths… several million. Long-term fallout depends on wind."

A quiet breath moved through the hall. No one spoke.

Engineer Pavel Renn broke the pause. "What of the Vanara coast, north and south?"

Colonel Iris Hahn flicked another switch. Smaller red circles appeared along the northern coastlines. "Vanara. Jashpur. Both high-value. One strike each will neutralize their production for decades."

"Fallout?" Selene asked.

"Manageable," Hahn said. "Prevailing winds push east, away from Bernard territory."

Artur added, "Few strikes, few cities. We can cripple their will."

A young analyst named Kai Dorn shifted uneasily. "And the temple-cities? Intelligence notes they are more than religious sites. Spirit academies, mana cores, central to their magic fleet. If we destroy those, we break their culture as well as their military."

The map highlighted three glowing towers across the interior—places of legend: the Temple of the Eternal Flame, the Mountain of Glass, the Deep Sky Monastery.

Selene studied the icons. "If we target temples, we strike at their spirit. But civilian deaths will be… extraordinary."

General Malik's eyes were hard. "This is total war. Their emperor will not surrender for half measures. The Northern Ocean victory proves our weapons can end their fleets. But to end the empire itself, we must remove its heart."

No one disagreed aloud. The hum of the generators filled the space like a second heartbeat.

A door opened with a soft hiss. Rena Carter, Prime Minister Elizabeth's assistant, stepped inside. She was tall—six foot one—with sharp posture and a presence that drew every eye. Black pants and a crisp white shirt framed her lean figure, and a pair of narrow glasses caught the light as she crossed the room.

The planners straightened instinctively.

"I bring orders from the Emperor," Rena said, her voice calm and clear. "He approves preparation of the full strike package. He asks for precision and speed. We are not to delay."

Selene met her gaze. "Target selection?"

"Your team will finalize," Rena replied. "But the Emperor demands a single message: the strike must be decisive. Indiana must lose the will to fight in one night."

She moved to the wall map and studied it without speaking. The quiet stretched until she finally pointed to three marks: the capital, the Vanara coast, and the Eternal Flame temple.

"These," she said. "Cut their command, their fleet, their soul."

Selene nodded slowly. "Then we confirm these as Alpha targets."

Rena's eyes stayed on the glowing capital. "Emperor Alberto believes this will save lives in the long war. I hope he is right."

She turned and left without another word, the soft click of her heels fading down the corridor.

The planners returned to their work. Selene brought up satellite images—ports, rail networks, troop deployments. "We need launch trajectories. Crosswinds over the interior are unpredictable."

Engineer Renn spoke quickly, almost to himself. "We can stage from the western archipelago. Submarine-launched warheads, low ascent to avoid early detection. Satellite guidance from the new Havel array."

"Yield calibration?" Selene asked.

"Variable," Renn said. "We can shape the blast to reduce fallout on farmland while ensuring total destruction of command centers."

Colonel Hahn looked across the table. "We also need to calculate secondary shockwaves. The mana reservoirs in those cities may react violently."

Selene tapped her pen against the metal surface. "Get me models by midnight."

At the far end, Kai Dorn stared at the glowing icons. "Once we fire, there is no going back. The world will know."

His words fell flat, but everyone heard them. A few looked away; others kept their eyes on the screens. The decision had already been made.

Outside the hall, in a cavernous silo cut deep into the bedrock, technicians moved through narrow walkways lit by crimson strips. They wore black pressure suits and carried data slates that glowed against the dim walls. Below them rested the warheads—sleek cylinders of steel and white ceramic, each capped with the Bernard crest.

An automated voice echoed through the chamber. "Resonance warhead series: Delta through Kappa. Status: armed for final checks."

Technician Mara Vos ran a hand-held scanner along a guidance fin. Numbers flashed green. "Delta-One secure," she said.

Her partner, Daran Ives, checked a panel of glowing runes. "Power cells stable. Core temperature holding. Ready for integration."

The sound of machinery deepened as hydraulic clamps released. One by one, the great cylinders rose on magnetic lifts, sliding toward the launch rails. The air smelled of cold metal and ozone.

In the control gallery above, Selene and her team entered. The floor trembled faintly as the lifts locked into place.

"Begin final sequence," she ordered.

Technicians keyed commands. Status lights cascaded from amber to green.

"Warhead Delta-One: armed."

"Delta-Two: armed."

"Kappa-One: armed."

General Malik watched every indicator without blinking. "Synchronization to orbital relays?"

"Locked," a controller replied. "Guidance net ready."

Selene looked through the reinforced glass at the silent weapons below. They seemed to pulse faintly in the half-light, as if aware of the power inside.

"Confirm all seals," she said. "Once the Emperor gives the word, we launch."

The last clamps tightened with a hiss. The warheads stood upright, black and silver against the red-lit cavern, their surfaces reflecting the glow like still water.

Outside, the night remained quiet. The hills lay dark under a rising moon. Only the distant thrum of hidden turbines marked the storm that was coming.