Arc of Fire

Little Griff had witnessed Aleksei’s final battle in its entirety.

He hid in the attic, peering down through the broken floorboards.

It wasn’t until the Prosens had left that he quietly opened the attic door, deftly jumping to the ground.

He quickly approached Aleksei’s side and picked up the photograph of Tatiana that lay on the ground.

Aleksei’s body had been mangled by his own Grenade of Glory, but Little Griff mustered his courage and closed his eyes with his hands.

"Rest in peace, Alyosha, I will tell Tatiana of your final heroic stance."

Little Griff said. He took a grenade from the dead Prosen Soldier, twisted off the cap, wedged the grenade between two floor tiles, and fixed the pull cord to the corpse’s belt.

In this manner, he set crude booby traps beneath each Prosen Soldier, tucking extra grenades at his waist before he proceeded to the doorway, listening cautiously to the sounds outside.

The first wave of Prosen attacks had passed this block, so it was exceptionally quiet outside.

Little Griff emerged from the room, scanning vigilantly to the sides, then crouched and scurried quickly through the alley like a true Ante Warrior.

Reaching the main street, he peeked out, seeing several Prosen warriors clearing the battlefield.

They seemed to sense that their area had been cleared and was safe; thus, they loudly chatted and laughed, looting the dead Ante Warriors.

Suddenly, submachine guns sounded.

Little Griff turned his head and after a few seconds located the second-floor window spewing smoke and flames.

Following that, several Prosens were felled at once, and the last one tried to make it to cover, only to be overtaken by bullets.

Since the neighboring blocks were still embroiled in fierce combat, the sound of the Papasha’s gunfire didn’t seem out of place at all and didn’t attract additional Prosen Soldiers.

The shooter who had killed four Prosens peeked out to survey the street, then made eye contact with Little Griff.

The shooter mouthed something and frantically waved.

Little Griff gave a thumbs up—he didn’t actually know what the warrior was saying; he was simply offering encouragement for the neat victory just achieved.

Then Little Griff lifted the sewer manhole cover and climbed inside.

Little Griff’s father was a plumber, often inspecting the sewer, and the plumbers’ children would always scurry through them.

When the Church had attempted to send the children over the river, Little Griff and his peers had used the sewer to evade capture.

Now, Little Griff moved swiftly through the sewer, familiar with the route, running for over ten minutes before stopping to carefully check the number on the ladder leading upward.

"517, this is the place," he whispered, climbing the ladder and pushing the manhole cover open.

The street outside was blissfully quiet.

One could see the windows across the street bricked up.

But Little Griff knew these seemingly heavily guarded houses were actually empty, designed to exhaust the enemy’s ammunition.

All the defense forces were scattered across every street, fighting independently.

Of course, there were still essential strongholds in the city, like the school that Little Griff detested, said to have been built as a fortress with walls frighteningly thick, and it now served as the pillar of that region, manned by significant forces.

There was also Little Griff’s favorite cinema, which was now rumored to house an entire battalion in its defense.

Little Griff was about to climb out of the tunnel when a large hand seized him, pulling him out, "Why are you still running around everywhere!"

It was the parish priest from the church in Little Griff’s block. He had removed his cleric’s robe, donning khaki military attire distinct from the regular army, without rank insignia or a military emblem.

Most soldiers from the Militia Camp wore this uniform.

Little Griff: "Riv Street has fallen, but our people are still fighting. Alyosha has fallen too, and I’ve brought back his belongings."

The Priest sighed, "That good kid is gone... May Saint Andrew be with him. You mustn’t run around anymore, go cross the river!"

Little Griff: "I’ve buried many booby traps, maybe I’ve killed more enemies than you, Priest!"

"You!"

Little Griff shrugged off the Priest’s hand and dashed eastward along the street.

"Where are you going?" the Priest called out.

Without turning his head, Little Griff answered, "To the May 5th Factory, to hand Alyosha’s belongings to his father!" Your next chapter awaits on

"Be careful of Prosens; no one knows how far they’ve infiltrated!" the Priest continued to shout.

"Got it."

Little Griff ran around the corner, then suddenly stopped upon hearing the rumble of an engine.

It was unclear whether it was a Prosen tank or an Ante T34.

Little Griff took cover in the shadows of a building, focusing on the direction of the sound.

He pulled out a recently acquired grenade and removed the cap.

His breathing grew more labored, his heart pounding as if it might leap from his throat.

—Such bravery, indeed.

But no matter how deeply he inhaled, his heart rate refused to calm, and excess adrenaline caused his fingers to tremble.

It seemed that, for a child under ten, facing an enemy tank was still an overwhelming challenge.

Just then, the source of the noise appeared in the distance on the street—a T34!

The tank had no paint or tactical numbers, obviously fresh off the production line.

The Tank Operator looked out from the turret, an expression of utmost seriousness on his face.

Little Griff burst out from his hiding spot, wielding a grenade, "Kill more Prosen people!"

The Tank Commander raised his right hand high, "Rest assured, child!"

Seemingly inspired by Little Griff, the tank sped up even faster, splashing mud on his face as it passed by him.

For some reason, Little Griff found his feet automatically running after the tank, yet a nine-year-old child stood no chance of catching up to a full-speed T34.

After being left behind by a dozen meters, Little Griff stopped and shouted towards the tank, "Take them out!"

Just then, the door of a roadside shop suddenly opened, and a matron beckoned to Little Griff, "Child! Come in quickly!"

Little Griff looked at the matron, "Please take the little ones across the river. On that side, you can get on the Church’s vehicle!"

The matron was taken aback, "Eh?"

Little Griff said, "The Priest mentioned that the women still at home now must have children to care for and told us to pass the message on—to tell you."

The matron appeared very moved, "I don’t have children to take care of. I am still at home because the Labor Camp doesn’t want an old matron like me; they want those that are young and strong."

"You should cross the river too."

"No," the matron laughed, "Crossing the river would mean eating the warriors’ rations. I can take care of myself; I still have plenty of pickles at home!"

Little Griff saluted the matron, "Then I have a mission to complete, I must go."

Finishing his words, he took off running towards the direction the T34 had just come from.

The matron leaned against the door frame, watching him disappear into the distance.

As soon as Little Griff arrived at the May 5th Factory, he saw a bandage-wrapped Tank Operator asking the workshop director, "When can the next tank roll off the line?"

"See for yourself, Tank Operator Davarish. We aren’t Mages; we can’t conjure up tanks. If you’re in a hurry, you can tell us where your tank is broken, and we can send a tractor to tow it back. Fixing that is faster than building a new one."

The Tank Operator sighed, "No use, the blocks have already been occupied by the Prosen Soldiers. A tractor going there probably won’t make it back. We need a new tank."

"Do you have enough Tank Operators?"

The Tank Operator replied, "There are three of us left in my crew, we’re just short of a Loader, but the Machine Gunner can take over."

"Then, while we’re making the next tank, you should find a Machine Gunner. I hope every tank sent to the front lines can use all its firepower to deal damage to the enemy."

Little Griff interjected, "I can operate a machine gun!"

Everyone turned to look at him.

Under the gaze of so many adults, Little Griff felt a bit intimidated but still mustered the courage to shout, "I can operate a machine gun!"

"Oh, come off it, kid," laughed one Tank Operator, "You couldn’t even see the Machine Gunner’s periscope from your seat. What are you going to shoot at? You would just be firing blindly."

Little Griff argued, "I can stand and shoot!"

The Tank Operators all laughed, but just then, someone else entered through the small door Griff had come in, "Is this May 5th Factory? I heard they’re gathering Tank Operators here!"

The Commander who had just asked the workshop director for a tank immediately asked, "Can you operate a machine gun?"

"Yes, I can fill any position!"

"Great!" The Commander turned to the workshop director and said, "Our crew is complete. When will the tank be ready?"

While they were speaking, the factory doors opened, and a brand-new T34 rolled out, stopping in front of the Tank Operators.

The worker who drove the tank out said, "We built it in a hurry; make do with it, we’ve made the frontal armor as reliable as possible."

"As long as it’s a tank," the Commander waved his hand, "Quick, load ammunition and fuel! Be ready in twenty minutes!"

The workshop director let out a sigh of relief and looked at Little Griff, "What are you doing here?"

"Alyosha has fallen. I’ve come to tell his dad."

"Which Alyosha?" the director asked.

"From the Panjelayevich family."

The director pointed towards the door of workshop number two, "Search the assembly line, and tell him he has an hour break."

Little Griff nodded and ran towards the workshop.

"Wait!" the workshop director called out, "Tuck away the grenade; don’t cause an accident!"

Little Griff quickly secured the grenade before entering the workshop.

He soon found Alyosha’s father, "Uncle, Alyosha has fallen!"

The burly worker momentarily froze.

The line supervisor shouted, "Just take a break; don’t mess up the work."

"No, leave it to me," continued the worker, busily returning to his task, "My locker is number 301. Just place his belongings in there."

Little Griff nodded, turned to leave, and then the worker suddenly asked, "Was he brave?"

"Brave. He killed at least five Prosen Soldiers."

"I see." The worker tightened a screw then added, "Good for him, good for him."

Taking a step back, the production line moved along, carrying away the workpiece he had just finished.

He stepped forward again to start on a new workpiece.

Inside the factory, the rhythmic sounds of air hammers and presses thundered, like lightning strikes, like the beating of war drums.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!