In the Fuhrer’s office, Bradford began recounting the events to Tatjana, his tone calm but precise as he detailed the campaign from the very beginning—the moment he first set foot on the shores of Bharatavarsha, near the Mountain of Flowers and Fruits.

  Upon landing, the soldiers wasted no time. With practiced efficiency, they unloaded supplies, established a command post, and fortified their position along the shoreline. Their training and meticulous preparations allowed them to set up a functional base in record time. However, securing the area was just the first step. Knowing the dangers of an ambush in unfamiliar terrain, the soldiers immediately began felling the surrounding trees. Each axe swing and crack of splintering wood expanded their field of vision, reducing the risk of an enemy attack under the cover of dense foliage.

  It wasn’t long before they drew attention. As the soldiers advanced toward the Mountain of Flowers and Fruits, a figure suddenly leaped from the trees—a monkey scout, its keen eyes flashing with suspicion and indignation.

  "Oi, humans! What do you think you’re doing, marching in with so many troops?! Are you fools, or do you truly not understand whose land you’ve stepped into? This mountain belongs to our king—the Great Sage, Heaven’s Equal!" the scout barked, its tail flicking sharply behind it.

  The squad commander stepped forward, his expression unreadable, his stance unwavering. His words were as cold as steel. "Tell your king to surrender. If he refuses, we will raze this mountain to the ground."

  The monkey scout let out a sharp hiss, baring its fangs in outrage. "You dare speak such arrogance?! You’ll regret this, humans! Soon, you’ll all be nothing but corpses rotting beneath these trees!" With that, the creature turned on its heels, disappearing into the dense wilderness as it raced back to warn its brethren of the approaching invasion.

  "Our objective has been met—we’ve declared war," the commander stated firmly. "Squad One will remain behind to scout the area. The rest of you, return to base in a fan formation and remain vigilant."

  The soldiers moved out without hesitation, spreading into a wide formation as they made their way back. Their eyes scanned the dense foliage, ensuring no movement went unnoticed. Every step was purposeful—no time was wasted.

  Deep within the Mountain of Flowers and Fruits, the monkey scout sprinted through the dense jungle, leaping over roots and swinging between branches with practiced ease. He burst into the cavernous throne room, his breath ragged from the urgent journey.

  "My king! Arrogant humans have arrived—they’ve declared war on us!" the scout reported, bowing deeply.

  The figure reclining on the stone throne suddenly sprang up, landing in a squat upon the seat. His golden eyes gleamed with mischief and challenge.

  "Who dares to declare war on me, Sun Wukong—the Great Sage, Heaven’s Equal?!" Wukong demanded, his tail flicking behind him.

  The scout hesitated, still catching his breath. "My king, I have never seen these humans before. They are unlike the usual invaders… some of them have blonde hair and blue eyes."

  Wukong’s expression shifted from curiosity to amusement. "Huh?! Foreigners? Now this is interesting!" He grinned, revealing sharp teeth. "A perfect opportunity to cure my boredom—by crushing these arrogant humans!"

  Wukong hopped off his stone throne, his tail swishing with excitement as he raised his staff high. His voice echoed through the cavern, brimming with energy.

  "Listen up, my little ones! Today, we raid the humans who dare trample upon our sacred land! We’ll rob them so thoroughly that they’ll scurry back to their homeland in tears!"

  A deafening cheer erupted through the cavern.

  "Woooo! Long live our king!" the monkeys roared, beating their chests and waving their weapons.

  Wukong grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Any of you who think you have the strength to stand beside me—come! Let’s go teach these arrogant humans a lesson!"

  The cavern shook with excitement as eager warriors rushed to join their king, ready to rain chaos upon the intruders.

  The monkeys launched their raid on the Almany base in broad daylight, a bold yet reckless decision that played right into the soldiers’ hands. With clear visibility and prepared defenses, the Almany troops swiftly sprang into action.

  Crossbows fired in unison, cutting through the incoming wave of attackers. The monkeys, though agile and fierce, were no match for the soldiers’ precision and discipline. One by one, they fell—some collapsing mid-leap, others struck down before they could even reach the perimeter.

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  The few that managed to close the distance found themselves met with cold steel and unwavering resolve. The Almany soldiers fought with ruthless efficiency, pushing back the remnants of the attack. Victory seemed inevitable.

  Then, without warning, a deafening crash shook the battlefield. A massive golden rod slammed down onto the base’s barricade, shattering it in a single devastating blow. The soldiers recoiled in shock as debris flew in all directions, the once-sturdy defenses reduced to splinters.

  A figure stood atop the wreckage, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief and power. “Your granddaddy has come to play,” Sun Wukong declared with a toothy grin.

  Without hesitation, he plucked a few strands of hair from his head, tossed them into the air, and blew on them. In an instant, dozens of identical clones materialized, each wielding a staff of their own. They roared in unison, ready to unleash chaos upon the battlefield.

  The soldiers scrambled to form a new defensive line, their training kicking in despite the overwhelming chaos. Shields were raised, crossbows reloaded, and formations hastily adjusted—but it was futile.

  Wukong’s clones tore through them like a storm, their staffs moving with impossible speed and precision. The soldiers were skilled, disciplined, and well-equipped, but against an ancient warrior of legend and his army of duplicates, they were hopelessly outmatched.

  Men were sent flying, weapons shattered, and the once-organized ranks dissolved into scattered pockets of resistance.

  Wukong stood amidst the carnage, twirling his staff lazily as his clones did all the work. He yawned exaggeratedly before smirking.

  "Oi, enough of this," he called out, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "Get your boss out here! Granddaddy's getting bored playing with you small fries."

  Wukong turned his attention to the warships anchored at the base, a wicked grin stretching across his face. With a flick of his wrist, his staff expanded to a monstrous size, its shadow looming over the battlefield.

  With a single mighty swing, the first ship shattered like a toy, its wooden hull splintering into debris that rained down into the sea. The soldiers barely had time to react before Wukong struck again—another ship crushed beneath the weight of his legendary weapon.

  "Granddaddy here will make you swim back to where you belong, arrogant humans!" he cackled, leaping from wreck to wreck, reducing each vessel to rubble with effortless ease.

  The soldiers could only watch in horror as their escape routes and naval superiority were wiped out in mere moments. The sea turned into a graveyard of broken ships, and the air was thick with the scent of burning wood and salt.

  As Wukong’s massive staff hurtled toward the final ship, a deafening clang echoed across the battlefield. The attack had been stopped—blocked mid-swing by a lone figure standing on the deck.

  Bradford stood firm, his halberd, Possum, locked against Wukong’s weapon. The sheer force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, causing the ship beneath him to groan under the strain.

  Wukong narrowed his fiery eyes, focusing on the halberd that had halted his strike. His supernatural sight flared to life, revealing the sinister aura radiating from the weapon—dark, writhing malice that twisted and pulsed unnaturally. This was no ordinary human-crafted blade.

  "Oi, oi," Wukong muttered, a hint of unease creeping into his usually playful tone. "Where did you humans get that?" His grip on his staff tightened. "That weapon—" his voice turned sharp, his amusement momentarily forgotten, "shouldn’t be in human hands!"

  Wukong rested his staff on his shoulder, cracking a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, you’re the boss of these arrogant fools?” he asked, his tail flicking behind him.

  Bradford met his gaze without flinching. “I am Bradford Graf von Kralj, second-in-command of the Almany Kingdom,” he declared, his voice steady and firm. “We will conquer your territory and use it as a foothold to further our campaign in Bharatavarsha.”

  Wukong’s grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. “Kakaka! Conquer, huh? You humans are always so greedy.” His expression darkened as he spun his staff with one hand. “Alright, granddaddy here will be confiscating that nasty little weapon of yours—” he pointed at Possum with a lazy flick of his fingers “—and teaching you a lesson while I’m at it.”

  Without another word, he launched himself forward, staff swinging down with earth-shattering force.

  The ground trembled as Wukong’s staff swung down, splitting the air with a thunderous roar. Bradford barely managed to raise his halberd, Possum, in time to block the incoming strike, the impact sending shockwaves through his arms. Sparks flew as the two weapons clashed, and Wukong’s grin grew wider.

  “Kakaka! Is this the best you’ve got, human?” Wukong’s voice rang out, booming across the battlefield. “You’ll need more than that to stop me!”

  The monkeys surrounding the fight cheered in unison, their high-pitched cries filling the air with fervor. “Long live the Monkey King! Wukong is invincible!” they shouted.

  Wukong’s eyes sparkled with pride as he heard their praise, the adoration of his followers only feeding his growing arrogance. He puffed his chest out, glancing over his shoulder at the cheering monkeys. “Little ones, let granddaddy here show you how to chase rats away!” he boomed, his voice dripping with confidence.

  The soldiers, however, stood nervously in the distance, watching the battle unfold. A deep anxiety settled over them. They knew what was at stake—if Bradford, their leader, fell, they would be next. The tension was palpable as they gripped their weapons, uncertain of their chances. Their fates rested in the hands of one man.

  Bradford gritted his teeth as he struggled to maintain his footing. Wukong’s relentless barrage of strikes was forcing him to retreat step by step. Each swing of the staff was a new test of his strength, each clone that Wukong summoned adding to the pressure. The soldiers watched helplessly as their general was pushed back, unable to land a blow in return.

  Wukong moved with lightning speed, his staff a blur of golden light. His clones, each a perfect replica of him, swarmed around Bradford, keeping him on the defensive. Bradford raised Possum to block yet another crushing blow from the massive rod, the force of the strike sending him stumbling backward. He couldn’t strike back—he could only defend, parrying blow after blow, the weight of each impact threatening to break his resolve.

  For a moment, it seemed as though the fight was slipping away from him. Wukong’s mocking laughter echoed through the air as he swiped his staff down once more, narrowly missing Bradford’s head.

  But then, something shifted. Bradford’s grip tightened on Possum, his eyes narrowing in focus. In that split second, Wukong’s next strike came too fast. Bradford sidestepped, his movements swift and calculated, and with a single, precise motion, he swung Possum, delivering a glancing blow to Wukong’s shoulder. The weapon cut through the air with a hiss, leaving a shallow gash in Wukong’s iron-like skin.

  For a moment, the battlefield went silent. Wukong paused, staring at the cut on his shoulder. At first, he felt no pain, dismissing the wound as nothing more than a scratch. The sensation in his body didn’t seem any different. He thought nothing more of it—he’d been wounded countless times before, and his strength was unyielding.

  With a sneer, he turned back to Bradford, his golden eyes flashing with contempt. “You think you can harm Granddaddy with such a petty wound?” Wukong taunted. “You’ll soon learn that nothing can touch the great Monkey King!”