"You truly are a natural-born general."
"Many have told me the same."
After a brief exchange, Creed and Kleiner continued their focus on the battle. Under Creed's command, the once chaotic situation gradually fell into order, and the squad tasked with reclaiming the command vehicle assembled swiftly.
Earlier, when instructing Kyle to convey his orders, Creed hadn't provided a meticulous plan for forming the squad, because the Eighth Regiment had a history of organizing such squads. Often, Creed didn't need to break down his directives; his people instinctively knew how to proceed.
Thus, a squad of 2,000 was assembled, each member a seasoned elite from different units, each skilled in unique ways.
When the squad was prepared, Creed finally withdrew from the most dangerous front, boarding a Chimera transport with Kyle and Kleiner. Kyle, anticipating Creed's needs, readied a pen and paper.
Creed, pen in hand and a cigar between his fingers, turned to Kleiner. "Could I borrow the teleportation device on your ship?"
"You plan to personally lead the squad to retake the command vehicle, don't you?" Kleiner guessed Creed's intent, nodding in agreement. "Of course, but we only have two hundred protective suits aboard, not nearly enough for the entire squad."
"That's more than sufficient. Send the suits down," Creed said, then turned to Kyle. "Equip Talons with the suits and have the rest board the transports to the command vehicle."
"Yes, sir," Kyle replied, relaying the orders over the comms with fervor.
Kleiner also gave the command to his ship to deliver the protective suits to the Eighth Regiment.
The Talons weren't a person's name but rather a specialized unit named after Creed's favorite childhood beast on his family's ranch. Conveniently, the Talons numbered exactly two hundred.
As the transport craft carrying the remaining squad members soared toward the command vehicle, Creed communicated with each officer, instructing them to head to different levels within the vehicle.
Throughout, these officers kept him updated, describing everything they encountered. With their reports, Creed pieced together an image of the command vehicle's interior.
"There are still over 5,000 allies within, guarding the Void Shield and the command center. A wise move," Creed remarked, sketching a rough map of allied positions.
Kleiner, observing from the side, marveled as Creed marked even the enemy's estimated locations. This wasn't deduced from frontline communications but from Creed's detailed knowledge of the vehicle's layout—he could predict the enemy's likely attack routes toward the Void Shield.
The Leviathan command vehicle wasn't a mass-produced model; each vehicle's interior was uniquely designed. Creed's familiarity with the layout of this vehicle, once belonging to two former lords, hinted at deliberate foresight.
"I've actually been preparing for this for quite some time," Creed admitted suddenly. "Seven years ago, I fought alongside the Voscanian forces—they're... somewhat peculiar."
"You knew this long ago? Why didn't you report to the Lords?" Kleiner asked.
"Imagine telling the Lord of Talon that the Guard is plotting his assassination—how would he react? It's the same principle," Creed replied without looking up.
Kleiner, pondering this, found no better solution. Creed's preemptive measures were already commendable foresight.
Creed resumed directing the operation to reclaim the Leviathan command vehicle. Meanwhile, Kyle occasionally reported various frontline issues, which Creed managed in the brief intervals between his main directives. He even entertained two visiting generals from other regiments while maintaining command.
The Talons conducted numerous teleportation maneuvers, transporting themselves to open areas on each level of the command vehicle. Every landing achieved results—assassinating enemy officers, destroying the enemy's transports, or ambushing alongside allied forces.
After issuing his final teleportation command, Creed set down his pen and instructed Kyle to attend to other duties. The battle within the command vehicle reached its final stages. Creed no longer needed to give orders and awaited news of the vehicle's recapture.
"The Golden Throne," Creed mused aloud, a rare smile breaking his stoic face. "You Talon commanders truly have it easy. I dream of having a squad capable of instant arrival on the battlefield."
"Why not join the Talon forces? You could become a marshal," Kleiner joked.
Though said in jest, Creed answered thoughtfully, "Every Cadian is born with a divine duty from the Emperor—to defend the Cadian Gate until their last breath. I cannot abandon that."
"Can't you be less solemn?" Kleiner sighed. He had only tried to lighten the mood, not delve into profound responsibilities.
"The command vehicle is secured!" Kyle's voice rang out as he entered the transport, shouting the news.
Creed merely nodded, unsurprised, and told Kyle in a calm tone, "I won't board the command vehicle unless I can coordinate with at least a dozen generals. For now, focus on transporting the wounded."
Kyle had just opened his mouth to ask if Creed intended to board the command vehicle.
"Anything else?" Creed inquired.
"General Sein has arrived on a transport, accompanied by twenty other generals," Kyle reported.
Twenty-one generals was a favorable turn—it meant communication had been established between the Eighth Regiment and twenty other regiments, ensuring unified efforts against the Voscanian Riders.
General Sein, leader of the Cadian Shock Forces' 97th Regiment, wasn't especially different from the other generals, but Kyle had reason for singling him out.
"Sein…" Creed's brow furrowed.
This fellow officer had left Creed with many unfavorable impressions. Sein represented the many dissatisfied with Creed's rapid rise; rumors abounded of his creation of a group known as the "Anti-Creed Alliance" within the Cadian Gate Defense Forces.
Creed found such gossip laughable, yet he knew well that many, with Sein at the forefront, held their resentment over his swift promotions, thwarting him at every turn.
"Should I make him leave?" Kyle asked, clenching his fist.
"It's wartime." Creed strode toward the exit. "As long as Sein treats the Voscanians as he treats me, we'll be fine."