Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology-Chapter 1185: WWI: Desperate

"Ahh, these Bharathiyas are like locusts. How are they everywhere?" General Pieter van Dijk of the Netherlands cursed through gritted teeth, clutching his helmet for dear life as he continued to retreat with his remaining men.

"Send a messenger on a fast horse to inform that Fort Mercator (Sacramento) has fallen," he roared as he got on a horse on his own and rushed towards the exit, leaving dust and a crumbling fortress behind.

He knew the Bharatiya Empire would eventually attack Fort Mercator. After all, San Francisco Bay had already fallen, and Fort Mercator was not far from it, so he had been preparing for the inevitable battle.

He had laid numerous traps along the routes leading to the port, prepared multiple ambush points, and stockpiled large amounts of supplies to resist the Bharatiyas for as long as possible.

But...

As he rode farther and farther away on horseback, thinking back on what had happened, his face twisted with rage and fury.

Ever since taking command at Fort Mercator, he had devoted himself to suppressing the native tribes with ruthless force. It had always been his policy to leave the indigenous people with no place to live. From the beginning, ever since he understood that these tribals would rather die than surrender, he knew that they would remain a constant threat.

However, no one could focus on a single task forever. After wiping out several large tribes and dozens of medium-sized ones, he had shifted his attention toward strengthening the fort, expanding the industrial base, and managing the territory, while the task of eradicating the remaining native groups had been delegated to his subordinates.

"Damn bastards couldn’t even survive until I took their lives with my own hands"

He was continuously promised that they had done their job, they had fulfilled their responsibility, but "Damn it!" Even thinking about it, he gritted his teeth almost as if he wanted to grind them into fine powder. Reminded that it was those lowly native animals that were responsible for his defeat, it infuriated him to no end.

Who would have thought the natives would lead the Bharatiya troops through the wilderness right to the front yard of Fort Mercator? When that happened, all his planning went to waste. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He knew his own capabilities very well, and more importantly, he knew the strength of the enemy even better. He was not arrogant enough to believe he could defeat the Bharatiya Empire’s army by himself. There were such foolish generals within the army, but he was not one of them, and that was the main reason he chose to set up ambushes and traps, all in the hope of weakening the Bharatiya military. He did not want to face the enemy in frontal combat; that would have been suicide.

The strength of Europe in America was developing very quickly. Industry was thriving, and productivity was rising, but this had only been happening for the last four to five years, and the development was not comprehensive. Some industries were more advanced than others, making the entire industrial system unbalanced. He knew this, and he also deeply understood that they were not fighting a war against people, but against money, industry, and the economy.

Soldiers were merely the medium through which the true forces of war expressed themselves, so he knew he could not go up against the Bharatiya Empire, whose military technology and industry had been developing continuously for the last three decades in the most comprehensive way known to humankind, using the half-baked industry and resources he controlled.

So even though he tried everything, he still lost badly. He gave it his all, even in frontal combat. He tried diversion tactics, he tried to box in the Bharatiyas, and he even attempted to use the new weapon he had commissioned for research, a mortar influenced by the work of the Bharatiya Empire. But in the end, it was all for nothing.

He felt as though all his efforts were like a ten-year-old child punching a seasoned fighter in the gut as hard as possible; the fighter might feel a little pain, but that was all. Every time he thought about it, bitterness filled his heart, loss clouded his mind, and left him endlessly frustrated.

"So this is the end?" he asked himself.

From a descendant of a serf to a general in the Dutch American army, commanding a fortress, his life had been filled with hardship. He had endured discrimination, hatred, rejection, and countless roadblocks, more than he could even remember. Yet he had overcome all of it through sheer hard work, determination, and talent.

Time and again, he proved himself in the face of doubt, never allowing anyone to question his competence. It was because of these achievements that he rose through the ranks so quickly and earned the title of general, becoming the envy of many.

But in the end, a stain had finally appeared on his record.

He lost his Fortress. He lost it to the Bharatiyas. This stain was much more devastating to him than to his colleagues in the same rank, because it would now allow others to see him as someone who was lucky and was no more than the son of a serf who had lost the territory of the country. And because of the stain, all the achievements he had, all the honours he had, everything would be reduced to nothing, TO NOTHING but fucking luck.

"Ahh, so Unwilling!" He cried out in a roar, but in the end, some things cannot be changed just because you are upset.

What happened at Fort Mercator was not an isolated incident. Similar situations had already occurred, or were unfolding, across numerous fortresses throughout North, Central, and South America. The Europeans were facing a siege unlike anything they had ever experienced.

Guided by native allies, wherever the Bharatiya military appeared, they moved like a pack of wolves, hunting their prey until none were left behind. The tactics of each regiment and division varied based on geography, terrain, and practical needs, but one thing remained consistent across most units: their overwhelming ferocity.

They attacked like an enraged, fire-breathing dragon, unleashing destruction in every direction. They struck the enemy where it hurt most, and they struck with everything they had, missiles, cannons, mortars, machine guns, nothing held back. Their mobility made them unpredictable, leaving the enemy unable to anticipate their next move.

Each European fortress became like a lonely island in a vast ocean, cut off from support, with communication lines stretched too thin to be reliable. Meanwhile, the Bharatiya forces operated like a pod of orcas, acting independently, hunting independently, and wiping out their targets one by one.

They wrapped around European strongholds like a giant octopus, tightening their grip until all resistance was crushed, and the last traces of defiance spilt out like a river of blood.

From October to the end of the year, the blood continued to flow, and hundreds of thousands of casualties had been calculated, and this brutal and bloody war persisted into the New Year.

The European monarchs, for the first time getting the intelligence about the war since the month and a half after it started, were at the edges of their seats, feeling restless, angry, scared, depressed, regretful, desperate, and so many other emotions.

"We need more battleships, double the number. I don’t care what it costs, even if all the forests have to be reduced to a barren land, build me my Fucking ships," Charles Stuart roared at the top of his lungs, his beard trembling with rage.

In Italy, Leandro Contarini was flustered. Italy did not have a colony in the Americas, but it definitely knew that the next target of the Bharatiya Empire was them. After they were done with the Americas, the more the plan of the Bharatiya Empire played out like his majesty Louis predicted, the more scared he became. Italy was the first one to backstab the Bharatiya Empire, and he knew that his end would not be any good. "How’s the research on that weapon? Has it completed yet?" He asked, his eyes bloodshot.

"It is your Excellency, Dodge. We are preparing to test it in a few days."

Leandro’s eyes became sharp. "Test it today. I want it done TO..DAY, and once it is successful, quickly manufacture it at all costs. We need this weapon, this could be a sharp sword to take down those bloody, bloody ships of the Bharatiyas."

"Oh, and inform about the weapon to the Union Council."

"But sir.."

"Stop. I know it is a secret project researched under wraps, but it is no longer Italy against the Bharatiya Empire; it is only the European Union against the Bharatiya Empire. After we defeat the Bharatiyas, what we have lost can slowly be gained, but if the European Union loses," he shuddered, "I can’t even imagine what the world would become."

"So quickly share the intelligence and put this sharp blade in every battleship and warship we have."

The reaction of the two heads of state was not an isolated case, nor was it rare. Nearly every nation within the European Union was responding in a similar manner. News of defeat after defeat in the Americas, arriving without pause, had driven the entire continent into a frenzy.

The more the Bharatiya Empire advanced, the closer it came to fulfilling King Louis XIV’s grim prediction. And the closer that prophecy came to becoming reality, the more desperate the European nations grew. The more desperate they became, the more ruthless and unhinged their actions turned.

In their panic, the kings of Europe lifted every remaining veil of secrecy, revealing even the hidden cards they had long kept in reserve. The whole of Europe was boiling.