Morin stared at the last unlocked intelligence entry on the system interface, completely stunned.
“Holy moly…”
He couldn’t help but curse inwardly.
These Britannians truly did not disappoint him at all.
Their performance regarding ‘extremely wicked’ acts was remarkably consistent—a traditional skill, as far as he was concerned.
To the Britannians, what was an ally?
An ally was someone to be sold out. As for an ally’s technology, that was naturally meant to be ‘shared.’
However, surprise aside, Morin quickly calmed down and began analyzing the hidden information behind this intelligence.
First, the fact that the Gauls’ ‘Sentinel Project’ could make the Britannians, who always considered themselves the ‘Magic Big Brother,’ covet the technology so much that they would formulate a dedicated theft plan, in itself demonstrated the technology’s value.
This also indirectly confirmed Morin’s own speculation—the Britannians likely hadn’t managed to develop a magical-side super soldier similar to the ‘Sentinel’.
Even if they had, the results were certainly not as good as the Gauls’.
“Those Highland Mages, spending all their time in Mage Towers researching how to conjure bigger Fireballs, probably never imagined someone would combine magic and human modification to create something like this.”
Morin rubbed his chin, pondering.
But he was also curious: where exactly did the Britannians get their intelligence?
The ‘Sentinel Project’ sounded like a top-secret Gaulish initiative. He only gained this intelligence because his ‘system was turned on and never turned off.’
How did the Britannians across the sea know about it?
Did the Gaulish high command have a mole? Or was the Britannian intelligence department truly omniscient?
These questions currently had no answers.
But one thing was clear: the Gauls’ technology possessed extremely high military value.
“Super soldiers, huh,” Morin smacked his lips.
Even in the world before he crossed over, the major powers had all secretly researched such concepts.
From the start of the Cold War until the 1990s, the so-called rumors of ‘enhanced soldiers,’ ‘super soldiers,’ ‘super-powered units,’ and ‘qigong’ all reflected the inquiries of various nations in this area.
However, constrained by technology and ethics, nothing significant ever materialized.
But in this world, which features magic, Radiant Crystal, and all sorts of strange technologies emerging endlessly, the concept of a ‘super soldier’ truly seemed possible to realize, and its application prospects were even broader.
Morin didn’t even dare to hope to mass-produce Battlemages like the ‘Sentinels’.
If the product of this ‘Sentinel Project’ could, even minimally, mass-produce elite soldiers with physical qualities far surpassing ordinary people and possessing a certain degree of Magic Affinity,
That would be a qualitative leap in the combat power of the entire Saxon Army.
“No, there’s no way I can let the Britannians easily get their hands on this thing,” an idea immediately formed in Morin’s mind.
Regardless of the fact that Saxony and Britannia were already in an adversarial state, locked in fierce battle, any action that could spite the Britannians would not be a loss to carry out.
Moreover, the Saxon Empire itself needed such excellent technology!
However, the intelligence provided by the system was still too sparse.
Aside from knowing the Britannians were plotting something nefarious, their specific action plan and targets were completely unknown.
“It seems this matter will have to wait until we’ve entered Paris. Then I’ll have to figure out a way to investigate slowly,” the thought flashed through Morin’s mind.
Perhaps, he could look for clues on the corpse of the ‘Sentinel’ he had just taken down?
As Morin pondered, the sounds of cheers and gunfire in the distance gradually subsided.
The last vestige of resistance from the remaining Gaulish defenders on the Creil Line had been completely crushed.
The entire defense line had transitioned from being merely breached to a complete rout.
Meanwhile, in the First Army Group’s Forward Headquarters in the rear, the atmosphere was far from the relief felt on the front line.
General Mackensen and Chief of Staff Lieutenant General Seeckt, having received news from the front, stood silently before the large sand table, watching the blue arrow representing their forces finally pierce the red marker signifying the Creil Line.
“We finally… punched through.”
Lieutenant General Seeckt let out a long breath, his voice laced with fatigue.
The cost paid by the First Army Group to break this line was immense.
Tens of thousands of soldiers lay eternally here, and the entire Army Group, from top to bottom, was pervaded by an indescribable exhaustion.
“Yes, we punched through.”
General Mackensen’s expression was equally solemn. He looked at the torn breach, his eyes reflecting a complex thought:
“But do we have enough strength left to carry us to the gates of Paris?”
This was the question everyone was keenly aware of.
The First Army Group was now like an athlete who had just completed a full marathon, only to be told the finish line was still a kilometer away—both physically and mentally, they were pushed to their limits.
Although the last barrier to Paris had been swept away, the path to victory was still long.
Just as silence fell over the headquarters, a communications staff officer rushed in, his footsteps hurried.
“General! Your Excellency Chief of Staff! Emergency news just received!”
“Speak,” Mackensen looked up.
“The Fortification Troops and Engineer Units on the rear railway have telegraphed: the railway trunk line, damaged by the Gauls and Britannians starting from Amiens, has been completely repaired!”
“Armored Train ‘Odin’ has been traveling at full speed along the restored line toward us since an hour ago!”
“What?!”
Seeckt abruptly turned around, his usual composure giving way to surprise.
“The ‘Odin’ is coming now?”
“Yes, Your Excellency Chief of Staff! Not only that, but the Air Force also reports that Armored Airship No. L28, which was forced down for repairs, completed emergency repairs last night and is airborne again. Theoretically, it should also be arriving soon!”
A ripple of suppressed cheers instantly ran through the headquarters.
These two pieces of news were nothing short of two shots of adrenaline for the utterly exhausted First Army Group!
“Not coming early, not coming late, but only arriving after we finally chewed through Creil.”
General Seeckt, however, shook his head with a trace of helplessness after the brief excitement.
“If the ‘Odin’ could have arrived two days sooner, we wouldn’t have shed so much blood at Creil.”
“Johannes, you can’t expect all plans to be flawless.”
General Mackensen patted his old partner on the shoulder.
“War is not a sand table exercise; it is full of variables. The fact that the ‘Odin’ can arrive now is the best news possible. I had already prepared for it to miss the offensive on Paris.”
He walked to the map, his gaze moving back and forth across the area between Creil and Paris.
“Although the main Gaulish defenders at Creil were routed, they were not completely annihilated.”
“After retreating to Paris, they will quickly be reinforced and reorganize their defense. We must seize this opportunity—while they are scattered and their organization is chaotic—to strike directly at Paris!”
The sharp light in Mackensen’s eyes rekindled.
“And the arrival of the ‘Odin’ gives us exactly this chance! Its mobility and firepower are enough for us to clear all obstacles on the road to Paris in the shortest possible time!”
“You mean to send the ‘Odin’ in alone for a deep thrust?”
Seeckt frowned slightly. He immediately grasped his old partner’s intention but was also concerned.
“But if I remember correctly, the ‘Odin’ is being committed to real combat for the first time, and its ‘Gungnir’ weapon has never been used on a real battlefield. What if something goes wrong…”
“Experience is always accumulated in real combat.”
Mackensen’s tone allowed no argument.
“Furthermore, the ‘Odin’ and ‘Gungnir’ were originally prepared by the General Staff for us, meant to be the final heavy hammer to crack the Paris city defenses. Now is the time for it to fulfill its purpose.”
Hearing ‘city defenses,’ Seeckt’s expression also grew solemn.
According to pre-war intelligence, the Gauls had not only built strong fortress clusters along the border but had also constructed a series of permanent fortifications—smaller in scale but with formidable firepower—in the suburbs of Paris.
There were even reports suggesting that Paris itself contained some hidden defensive weapons.
“Get me the railway network map for Gaulish territory,” Seeckt commanded a staff officer.
Soon, a detailed railway map was spread out over the sand table.
Seeckt looked at the crisscrossing railway lines on the map and suddenly smiled:
“You know, we should really thank the Gauls. They ambitiously wanted to undergo some kind of Radiant Crystal Industry transformation a few years ago. The industry didn’t transform, but they did end up upgrading their entire national railway system to our standards.”
General Mackensen also nodded.
Indeed, if the Gauls hadn’t built such a good railway system, whether a heavy Armored Train like the ‘Odin’ could have smoothly reached the gates of Paris would be a genuine question.
“So, what we need to do now is ensure that the railway section from Creil to Paris is clear and unobstructed.”
Mackensen’s finger traced a straight line on the map.
“We need a force with sufficient mobility to preemptively secure the railway line and then accompany the ‘Odin’ to launch a lightning-fast thrust at Paris!”
Seeckt looked at Mackensen and suddenly asked: “My old friend, you aren’t thinking of assigning Captain Morin to lead that unit, are you?”
General Mackensen met his Chief of Staff’s gaze and nodded without hesitation.
“Exactly, it will be him.”
Lieutenant General Seeckt gave a wry smile upon hearing this:
“You really… have no compassion for that young man. He and his unit just walked out of the jaws of death, and you immediately assign him another life-or-death mission. Aren’t you afraid he’ll end up hating you?”
“Hate me?”
General Mackensen’s eyes were complex. He paused for a moment before speaking slowly, sounding contemplative:
“If he were still the Friedrich carousing in Dresden, if his performance in the army had been unremarkable… truthfully, I would have found a way to transfer him to a relatively safe, quiet post in the rear some time ago.”
The old General’s voice carried satisfaction and resignation, as well as a hint of pride he might not have noticed himself.
“But who could have guessed that once the boy joined the army, it was like he became a different person? From the Aragon Kingdom’s civil war to Creil today, he has impressed me—impressed everyone—again and again.”
“And now, he and his Instruction Assault Battalion have become an important trump card in my hand.”
Mackensen turned and looked at the sky outside the tent, colored orange by the flames of war, and continued:
“If it is a trump card, there is no reason to hide it. At the most critical moment, it must be played without hesitation!”
“Besides, looking across the entire First Army Group, besides his Instruction Assault Battalion, what other unit possesses the capability to execute a high-speed deep thrust alongside the Armored Train?”
“Send other infantry units to follow? They would break their legs trying to keep up with the ‘Odin’s’ speed, and would only become a liability.”
Hearing Mackensen’s words, Seeckt nodded slightly as well.
He also understood that the Instruction Assault Battalion was currently the only battalion-sized unit in the entire Army Group, and indeed the entire Saxon Army, that was fully motorized.
Their trucks were the only guarantee that this force could keep pace with the Armored Train.
Seeckt suddenly laughed: “Speaking of which, we have Bülow and Ludendorff to thank for this. These vehicles belonged to their Second Army Group.”
“Haha ha ha, indeed.”
General Mackensen laughed and shook his head, then added:
“Of course, I won’t send him alone. Grand Master Leonia von Fortis will also lead her elite Armored Knights to accompany the mission.”
“And, as soon as the Paris campaign concludes successfully, I will personally submit a report to the General Staff, to His Highness the Crown Prince, recommending that the Instruction Assault Battalion be rotated to the rear, expanded using their core personnel, and that their tactical experience be promoted throughout the entire army.”
Mackensen’s eyes flashed with determination.
“The fighting over this last month has yielded sufficiently persuasive results from the Instruction Assault Battalion. It is time to push for a transformative reform of our ancient Army.”
“I believe Friedrich himself will also attain a position within the Army that allows him to fully exercise his talents.”
Hearing these words, Seeckt’s last trace of worry vanished.
He knew that Mackensen was paving the way for Morin—using a ‘checkmate’ move in a decisive victory to secure a bright future for the young man.
“I understand,” Seeckt straightened up. “I will draft the operational order immediately.”
“Good, go ahead.”
Mackensen nodded, then turned to the communications staff officer beside him:
“Once the order is drafted, immediately send men to deliver the orders separately to Captain Friedrich Morin and Grand Master Leonia von Fortis.”
“Yes, General!”