Building a Conglomerate in Another World

Chapter 97: The Final Push

The air was heavy with tension as the Amerathian forces prepared for their final assault on the Mexican capital. The sprawling city of Nueva Libertad lay ahead, its skyline dominated by ancient churches and government buildings. Beneath the veneer of its majestic architecture, the city had become a fortress. Barricades lined the main avenues, artillery emplacements covered key choke points, and thousands of Mexican soldiers stood ready for a last stand.

Lieutenant Andrew Hayes surveyed the battlefield from his forward command post, his sharp eyes scanning the distant defenses. Smoke from scattered skirmishes hung low over the horizon, a grim reminder of the battles that had led them here.

"Caldwell," Hayes called out, his voice cutting through the hum of preparation.

Sergeant Caldwell stepped forward, saluting briskly. "Yes, sir?"

"Status on the vehicles?"

"They’re in position, Lieutenant," Caldwell replied. "The modified units are ready to breach the outer defenses. Flamethrowers and mounted cannons have been prepped, and the wireless telegram systems are operational."

Hayes nodded, his face set in determination. "Good. Signal the artillery to begin the bombardment. We need to soften them up before the assault."

Caldwell moved swiftly to relay the orders. Moments later, the thunder of artillery echoed across the plains as shells arced through the sky, landing with devastating precision on the city’s outskirts. Explosions erupted along the defensive lines, sending plumes of dust and debris into the air.

***

In the heart of Nueva Libertad, Colonel Javier Ortega stood amidst the chaos, barking orders to his beleaguered officers. The once-proud commander had seen his forces battered by the relentless Amerathian advance, and now he faced the impossible task of holding the capital against a technologically superior foe.

"Reinforce the eastern barricades!" Ortega shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "And for God’s sake, keep the artillery firing! We cannot let them breach the perimeter!"

An officer hesitated, his face pale. "Colonel, the men are exhausted. Supplies are running low, and—"

"Then find more!" Ortega snapped, his voice trembling with frustration. "We cannot fail here. This city is the last bastion of our resistance."

The officer nodded grimly and left to carry out the orders. Ortega turned to the map spread across the table, his mind racing. He knew the odds were against them, but surrender was unthinkable.

***

As the artillery bombardment subsided, the Amerathian vehicles roared to life. Their engines growled like angry beasts as they surged forward, a wall of steel and firepower advancing toward the city. Flamethrower-equipped units led the charge, their jets of fire clearing barricades and flushing out entrenched defenders. Behind them, infantry moved in disciplined formations, their bolt-action rifles at the ready.

The Mexican defenders fought valiantly, their muskets and cannons blazing in desperate defiance. But their outdated weapons were no match for the precision and firepower of the Amerathian forces. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the reinforced armor of the vehicles, while their mounted cannons reduced defensive emplacements to rubble.

Lieutenant Hayes advanced with his men, his wireless telegram system crackling with updates from the front. "Sector Alpha cleared," came one report. "Moving on Sector Bravo."

Hayes relayed the information to his units, coordinating the assault with surgical precision. "Keep the pressure on," he ordered. "Don’t give them a moment to regroup."

In the eastern sector, an Amerathian convoy broke through a heavily fortified checkpoint. The flamethrowers created a wall of fire, driving the defenders into the open, where they were picked off by sharpshooters. The mounted cannons targeted artillery emplacements, silencing the Mexican guns that had once dominated the battlefield.

***

As the day wore on, the Amerathian forces pushed deeper into the city. The streets became a maze of narrow alleys and towering buildings, each corner hiding potential threats. Hayes knew the dangers of urban warfare but trusted in the discipline and training of his troops.

"Recon units, take point," Hayes commanded, his voice steady over the wireless system. "Watch for ambushes and report any resistance."

The recon vehicles moved ahead, their lighter frames allowing them to navigate the tight streets with ease. Their mounted machine guns provided covering fire as the infantry advanced behind them. Mexican defenders attempted to regroup, but their efforts were swiftly thwarted by the coordinated assault.

In the central plaza, Colonel Ortega made his final stand. Surrounded by his remaining men, he vowed to fight to the last. But as the Amerathian forces closed in, the reality of their situation became clear.

The plaza erupted in chaos as the first Amerathian vehicles rolled in, their cannons shattering the makeshift barricades. Infantry stormed the square, their rifles blazing. The Mexicans fought bravely, but they were hopelessly outgunned. Within minutes, the resistance crumbled, and Ortega was captured.

***

By nightfall, the city was under Amerathian control. The Mexican flag was lowered from the capitol building, replaced by the banner of the Grand Republic. Soldiers cheered as the news spread: the war was all but over.

In his command post, Lieutenant Hayes received the confirmation. "It’s done," he said quietly, the weight of the moment sinking in.

Caldwell approached, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion. "They’re calling it a decisive victory. The Mexican government has signaled its intention to negotiate terms of surrender."

Hayes nodded, his gaze distant. "Good. It’s time to end this."

***

Back in Sylvania, the streets erupted in celebration as news of the victory reached the capital. Bells rang, crowds gathered, and the air was filled with the sounds of triumph. At Hesh Industries, Matthew read the telegrams with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

Robert Anders entered, a rare smile on his face. "Matthew, it’s over. The Republic has won."

Matthew set the telegram down and stood, his expression calm.

"Then it’s time to focus on rebuilding. The war may be over, but our work is just beginning."

As the factory hummed with activity, Matthew began drafting plans for the future. The innovations born from the war had proven their worth, but now they would be repurposed for peace. For Matthew, the end of the war marked the beginning of a new chapter—one defined not by destruction, but by progress.