As an extremely special armed force, the Royal Army 0th Special Pioneer Regiment was treated as a trump card by General Bojović, commander of the Kingdom of Greater Serbia’s First Army Group.

He initially planned to use the Royal Army 0th Special Pioneer Regiment as a surprise force when the two sides were locked in a stalemate or during a decisive battle.

To carry out critical operations like a surprise attack on the Saxon command post, maximizing the unique characteristics of this unit...

But now, having formally engaged the enemy for only a day, he was forced to send this unit out.

Following Bojović’s written order, a cavalry unit of about three hundred men galloped out into the night of Novi Sad.

Although designated as a regimental formation, the actual structure of the Royal Army 0th Special Pioneer Regiment was more akin to a cavalry regiment, and their numbers weren’t that large. What was attached to the First Army Group was merely one of its battalions.

The sentries guarding the perimeter of Novi Sad originally intended to stand at attention and salute as was customary upon seeing friendly cavalry riding out of the city.

But as these cavalrymen approached, the sentries’ forward steps halted uniformly.

Illuminated by the peripheral light of the torches, the silhouettes on horseback appeared exceptionally burly.

They wore large gray cloaks, which, billowing in the wind, faintly revealed the bulging outlines of massive muscles beneath.

What made the sentries feel even more uneasy was the chilling aura radiating from these cavalrymen.

They made no sound of conversation while riding; only the dull thud of hooves echoed on the flagstone road.

It wasn’t until these hundreds of riders completely disappeared into the distant wasteland that the sentries by the roadside dared to gather together again.

An old NCO leading the squad gripped his rifle tighter, looking into the darkness in the distance, his voice trembling slightly.

"Has the war on the front lines deteriorated to this extent? To actually need to deploy these ’monsters’."

"Is that the ’Vukodlak’?"

A young soldier who had only joined the patrol a few months ago, clearly having never seen such a spectacle, leaned in curiously to ask.

"Sir, so the rumors about the military driving the ’Vukodlak’ to fight are actually true?"

The veteran soldiers in the squad exchanged glances but didn’t answer immediately, merely shaking their heads in silence.

One of them, ignoring the night light discipline, lit a cheap cigarette.

The ember flared and faded in the dark, illuminating the unconcealable fear on his face.

"That’s no legend, kid... If you’ve seen the way they tear enemies apart on the battlefield, you wouldn’t want to know the truth."

Seeing that the veterans were unwilling to say more, the young soldier didn’t press the matter.

However, on the way back to the camp, a long-circulating nursery rhyme from his hometown involuntarily surfaced in the young soldier’s mind.

That nursery rhyme, titled "Don’t Open the Window, Little Jovan," was practically a nightmare for every child in the Kingdom of Greater Serbia:

"The moon is white, the moon is cold, shining on the old mass grave outside town."

"Don’t open the window, Little Jovan, a gray shadow man stands outside."

"His nails are long and sharp, his eyes are red as blood."

"Little Jovan, open the door, your heartbeat sounds so sweet."

"Mother covers Jovan’s mouth, blows out the candle to play dead."

"The gray shadow walks, the gray shadow stops, invisible until the rooster crows."

"If you open the window to take a peek, only an empty shirt will remain tomorrow."

In this young soldier’s memory, the "Vukodlak" had always been a terrifying legend since childhood, used by Serbian parents to frighten children.

The most classic, naturally, was universal worldwide: if you don’t sleep well at night, the "Vukodlak" will sneak into your room and take you away...

So traditionally, the public image of the "Vukodlak" was negative, often associated with bad things. Sometimes, if a few sheep went missing on a farm and the culprit couldn’t be caught, the farmers would vent their anger by cursing: "That damn ’Vukodlak’!"

In fact, in the folk traditions of Serbia and parts of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the "Vukodlak" didn’t solely refer to a "werewolf."

It was a hybrid image of a werewolf and a vampire.

However, after the war broke out and the situation turned unfavorable, the military had to take the risk of deploying these supernatural forces.

The terrifying legend originally used to scare children was infused with a core of "patriotism."

The state began propagandizing that these warriors with special abilities were guardians of the nation, even spreading a new version of the ballad:

"The son turned into a wolf, the father turned into a ghost."

"They eat no bread, only the flesh of enemies."

"They drink no spring water, only the blood of invaders."

"Before the sun rises, they are the shield of the nation."

"After the sun rises, they are the soul of the land."

However, to the ordinary soldiers who had seen the "Vukodlak" with their own eyes on the front lines, no matter how the propaganda changed, their fear could not be erased.

In their view, these kin modified by potions or secret arts no longer belonged to the category of humanity.

Meanwhile, at the ruins of the Serbian Second Army headquarters.

Morin sat in the passenger seat of the command truck, flipping through the prisoner roster Kleist had just compiled.

Unlike some officers in that other world who habituated changing into enlisted uniforms to run away... these professional Serbian officers, upon confirming a breakout was hopeless, behaved exceptionally cooperatively.

They proactively revealed the collar tabs and epaulets on their uniforms, as well as their identification documents, terrified that the Saxons would treat them as ordinary soldiers.

This could also be considered a tradition in Europa.

Generally, in the absence of deep-seated blood feuds, captured officers definitively received much better treatment than ordinary grunts.

While captured enlisted men crowded in cramped conditions sharing a bowl of thin, greaseless soup, captured middle and high-ranking officers might even enjoy a full meal in a private room...

However, in Morin’s view, the reason frontline units of various countries treated foreign officers this way was mostly in the hope that if they were ever unlucky enough to be captured one day, the other side would treat them well too.

"Commander, identities confirmed."

Before long, Kleist led Morin to the front of the destroyed wooden house, pointing to several high-ranking officers being guarded beside the ruins.

"Those are a few staff officers from the Second Army headquarters, along with the commander and adjutant of the headquarters guard battalion..."

Morin followed his gesture. Although those men were covered in dust, they still tried hard to maintain a military bearing.

Through on-site identification by these prisoners, the torn uniforms and unrecognizable severed limbs found earlier in the ruins of the main building indeed belonged to Lieutenant General Stepanović, commander of the Second Army, and his adjutant.

This veteran general, who made a name for himself in the Balkan Wars, didn’t even get to display his talents in this counter-offensive before dying under the instruction unit’s cross-generational firepower...

Before the operation began, Morin had actually thought that capturing a living enemy lieutenant general would absolutely be a brilliant stroke in the instruction unit’s combat history.

In the end, the other party’s luck clearly couldn’t withstand the baptism of 105mm high-explosive shells.

Having Kleist arrange for the captured Serbian soldiers to decently bury the dead on the spot, Morin also headed over to the communications company.

The communications company men worked quickly. They re-erected the antenna and powered up the captured radio.

The telegraph operator immediately noticed that various units were continuously calling the Second Army headquarters, and unsurprisingly, they were all broadcasting in cleartext...

The best telegraph operator in the instruction unit’s communications company, wearing headphones and holding a pencil, rapidly transcribed these messages onto telegraph paper, then handed them to the somewhat nervous company commander beside him.

The latter just glanced over it quickly and handed the paper to Morin, while the operator continued wearing headphones to see if anything was missed.

"Commander, the First Army Group headquarters, the Third Army headquarters, and the two subordinate divisions of the Second Army are all frantically calling the Second Army headquarters to confirm the situation."

Listening to the communications company commander and looking at the urgent inquiries on the paper, Morin’s mind raced.

In this era where information transmission still relied on radio waves and fast horses, the information gap was the deadliest weapon.

After pondering for a moment, Morin instructed the telegraph operator to directly reply in cleartext to all units.

"Reply to all units. Say the headquarters was just harassed and shelled by a small enemy force, the antenna was temporarily damaged, but the attackers have been repelled!"

"Send a separate message to the two subordinate divisions of the Second Army, ordering them to immediately converge on these locations..."

Morin pointed to several coordinates on the map and continued:

"Then establish a perimeter defense to prevent a secondary enemy sneak attack on the headquarters!"

Soon, the two division headquarters sent messages confirming the orders.

But simultaneously, they also asked if the plan to support the First Army at daybreak should still be executed.

Seeing this, Morin patted the telegraph operator’s shoulder and said:

"Tell them a portion of the First Army’s main force has just successfully broken out, so they no longer need our support."

"All units are to rest immediately and retreat towards Novi Sad at first light tomorrow."

The telegrams were sent out just like that.

Since the Serbian army also routinely communicated in cleartext, and the instruction unit’s telegraph operator mimicked the Serbian Army’s communication format based on captured telegram archives, the two divisions didn’t suspect anything.

But what was the actual situation of the First Army?

Unfortunately, they did not successfully break out as Morin’s "forged telegram" claimed.

Inside the encirclement over ten kilometers away.

The surrounded Serbian soldiers were currently experiencing the most desperate night of their lives.

They had no idea that their friendly forces just ten-odd kilometers away had already received fake orders to "cancel support, prepare to retreat."

Full of expectation, under the leadership of Major General Mišić, they fiercely defended that narrow defensive perimeter.

Major General Mišić judged that the Saxons wouldn’t launch a night attack, but he was only half right.

The main forces of the Saxon Imperial Army indeed lacked the mature night combat capabilities of the instruction unit.

But that didn’t stop them from using the night to conduct earthworks...

It’s important to note that the Imperial Army Earthworks Manual, spearheaded by Morin for the instruction unit, had been distributed throughout the entire army for a long time.

Even the units constantly fighting on the front lines had undergone extensive earthworks training and practical application.

So tonight, the several units acting as the main assault force of the Fifth Army Group were not idle either.

Just as Morin had done with the instruction unit, they employed trench digging to shorten the assault distance as much as possible.

Simultaneously, they moved field guns—which were much more mobile than 150mm heavy guns—to the front lines...

As for the Serbian Army, their night vigilance was extremely poor. In Morin’s view, it was a completely failing grade.

It was only because the Austro-Hungarian Army they encountered previously had no night combat capabilities...

If they were facing any unit capable of launching a night offensive, who knows how many times the Serbians would have been crushed.

Under these "favorable timing, terrain, and human conditions," some of the main assault units with stronger night-operation capabilities even managed to dig the foremost jumping-off trench to within 180 meters of the Serbian positions...

This approach of "a lion uses all its strength even when catching a rabbit" showed the surviving soldiers of the Serbian First Army what it meant by "the enemy growing out of the ground" the next morning.

As the first rays of morning sunlight pierced the clouds, the Serbian soldiers waking up one after another from their foxholes horrifyingly discovered that the Saxons’ muzzles were already pushed right under their eyelids.

But before these Serbian soldiers could make any response, the Fifth Army Group’s bombardment began.

The roar of field guns became the best alarm clock.

However, under the bombardment, not all Serbian soldiers could wake up on time.

After approximately fifteen minutes of artillery preparation ended, a massive number of smoke shells were launched, landing precisely in front of the Serbians’ frontline bunkers.

Thick white smoke spread rapidly, shrouding the entire battlefield in chaos.

This tactic left the Serbians, accustomed to positional firefights, completely blind.

Immediately after, sharp whistle blasts sounded from the other side of the smoke.

"Twee!"

The Saxon soldiers, who had already formed a massive encirclement, leaped out from line after line of trenches.

They still retained the characteristics of high training and strong discipline typical of Saxon soldiers, but their combat methods were completely different from traditional Saxon army units.

They did not form dense lines, but operated in combat teams, crouching low and advancing rapidly through the smoke gradually dispersing in the wind.

Before the battle, everyone had heard the NCOs’ reminders:

"The smoke duration and volume of the smoke shells are limited! The cover won’t last long!"

"If you don’t want to be killed by those ’amateurs’ on the other side, run like your lives depend on it!"

As the soldiers in the very front of the assault formation neared the Serbian defense line, the NCOs mixed within the ranks to maintain formation also roared one after another:

"Hand grenades!"

Following a few short commands, a massive number of stick grenades were thrown into the Serbian trenches.

Using the continuous explosions as final cover, the Saxon soldiers jumped in, weapons raised.

Fierce hand-to-hand combat erupted within the crudely dug trenches.

The technical and tactical skills of the Fifth Army Group soldiers, forged on the Western Front, were fully displayed at this moment.

In groups of two or three, they covered each other’s blind spots.

A team would inevitably include a submachine gunner and a grenadier carrying extra stick grenades.

Grenades cleared the path, submachine guns provided suppressive fire, rifles finished the job...

Under this mature tactical assault, the resistance of those already demoralized and exhausted Serbian soldiers collapsed much faster than imagined.

10:15 AM.

A white flag rose over the small town where the First Army headquarters was located.

That was the final order issued in despair by the former "Savior of the Kolubara River," First Army Commander Major General Mišić.

An entire corps-level structure was completely annihilated in the first wave of the Fifth Army Group’s morning attack.

The commotion of guns and cannons firing in unison over at the First Army early in the morning made the commanders of the two divisions subordinate to the Second Army realize something was wrong.

A few hours ago, the headquarters had told them the First Army’s remnants had successfully broken out. Why were the Saxons still launching an attack over there now?

And as two division commanders with similarly extensive service records, they finally caught on at this moment, the worst-case scenario flashing through their minds simultaneously...

They coincidentally sent out several waves of messengers, but the result was the same—no news returned.

In this situation, even Sun Quan (a historical figure known for making late/bad decisions) would know something had gone terribly wrong...

These two infantry divisions, still retaining combat capability, rapidly dispatched small units toward the headquarters.

And, unsurprisingly, they were met head-on and battered by the positions Morin had set up on the perimeter...

At this point, the two division commanders finally realized the severity of the matter.

Not because they discovered the headquarters might have been taken out by the enemy, but because they suddenly found their retreat route seemed to have been cut off.

Although the terrain of the current combat area was relatively flat, when marching as a division-level unit, commanders would still order troops to travel along roads as much as possible.

Not just because supply wagons needed roads.

But because having troops advance freely all over the mountains and plains is not called a "march," it’s f*cking called a "rout."

And now, the instruction unit and the Guard Reserve Infantry Regiment had directly choked off the key roads with their positions.

Even when these two divisions sent troops to scout the flanks, they similarly discovered prepared enemy positions.

Even more terrifying, some reconnaissance units reported discovering traces of enemy cavalry on the flanks.

Former site of the Second Army headquarters.

Morin also realized at this time that the masquerade of playing the headquarters had run its course.

Next, they would have to face the attack of two enemy division-level units; it could be considered a somewhat challenging defensive battle.

Morin naturally didn’t intend to just tank it himself, so he immediately went to the communications company.

"Send a telegram to Major General Paul. Request he have the 4th Guard Reserve Infantry Division immediately maneuver to the rear of these two divisions and launch an attack as soon as possible."

While speaking, Morin looked at the defensive positions of the various units of the "Morin Kampfgruppe" on the system map.

"The Serbians don’t have much artillery, so we can hold out for a while..."

"This is an excellent opportunity. We absolutely must completely consume these two divisions before they break out!"

"Even if we eat until our bellies burst today, we cannot let a single soldier from these two divisions escape!"

Saxon Fifth Army Group Headquarters, 1145 hours.

As the battle entered a critical stage, Crown Prince Georg also received two pieces of bad news from Chief of Staff Major General Knobelsdorff.

"What are those Austrians doing?"

The Crown Prince’s voice carried irrepressible anger.

"They have the strength of a full army group in their hands, facing only a crippled Serbian Third Army, and they actually got beaten back?"

Chief of Staff Major General Knobelsdorff’s expression was also somewhat numb at this moment.

He sighed, pointing helplessly to the far left flank of the battle line.

"Your Highness, although telegrams from our allies confirm the Serbians received several brigades of reinforcements, the critical issue was not on the frontal defense line..."

"It was the Serbian cavalry."

At this point, Major General Knobelsdorff paused, his expression becoming complex.

"Those madmen executed a deep-penetration flanking maneuver during the night, and at dawn, completed an incredibly rare... but, forgive me, I must admit a truly beautiful flanking attack."

"The command system of the Austro-Hungarian Fifth Army is now semi-paralyzed. The final order issued by their army group headquarters was to fall back towards our position."

"So their soldiers are running all over the hills towards us... retreating."

Crown Prince Georg closed his eyes in pain.

To him, this was simply a flock of panicked sheep charging toward a hunting lion.

Aside from disrupting the lion’s formation, it served no positive purpose.

The thing Morin feared most before the engagement had still happened.

The incompetence of the Austro-Hungarian Empire could always find a new bottom line in the Crown Prince’s perception.

Georg couldn’t help but think, perhaps only the Austro-Hungarian army could allow the enemy to charge right into their faces with cavalry under these circumstances...

Now, the originally solid flank had become a massive gap.

The Serbian Third Army and cavalry division were surging through this gap like a flood towards the Saxons’ rear flank.

If they couldn’t plug this hole quickly, the entire encirclement would conversely become an anti-encirclement by the Serbians.

"What’s worse, the Serbian Second Army has also moved."

The Chief of Staff continued his report, his voice low.

"They are attempting to force a crossing on the lower reaches of the Sava River..."

Crown Prince: "What about the Austro-Hungarian Sixth Army?"

"They are indeed trying to stop the enemy from crossing the river, but the army group commander telegraphed that the Kingdom of Montenegro’s field army has also begun advancing, so he must divert his attention to guard against that..."

"The Montenegrin field army is only tens of thousands of f*cking men! What the hell is he guarding against?!"

The Crown Prince finally swore.