Titrick, Alliance Army forward assembly area, 4:20 a.m.
The temperature is only nine degrees Celsius.
The cold night of the desert contrasts sharply with the scorching heat of the day, and the breath of the soldiers condenses into white mist in front of the night vision goggles.
No one speaks, only the faint sounds of equipment clashing and the occasional muffled cough.
This is a half-collapsed warehouse ruin, 800 meters from the target auto repair shop zone, and 1,200 meters from the school building complex.
The walls still have bullet holes and cracks caused by explosions, with rubble and rusty metal fragments scattered on the ground.
This is the departure point for Alpha Company and Bravo Company.
"Final equipment check."
The voice comes from the depths of the warehouse, deep and clear.
The speaker is the Alpha Company commander, nicknamed "Old Man."
The soldiers begin to move, methodically touching each critical point on their bodies, following muscle memories formed from thousands of drills.
Night vision goggles - battery full, mount stable, eyepiece clean.
Weapons - carbine rifle, chamber clean, gas tube clear, magazine loaded with thirty rounds of 5.56mm ammunition, six spare magazines.
Bulletproof vest - level III bullet-proof plate in place, side protection plates installed, first aid kit, hemostatic belt, magazine pouch in correct positions.
Communication equipment - P25 encrypted radio, earbud in ear, microphone close to the mouth, battery charge above ninety percent.
Grenade launcher, explosive charges, smoke bomb, flashbang, binocular night vision, laser designator...
Every piece of equipment is checked repeatedly to ensure it can function immediately when needed.
"Old Man" walks to the front of the line, his footsteps echo in the empty warehouse. The night vision goggles make his eyes glow faintly green in the darkness, sweeping across each soldier's face.
"Listen up,"
His voice is not loud, but each word hits the air like a chisel, "We only have one chance. After the artillery preparation starts, the convoy advances at full speed. Upon reaching the target zone, disembark immediately and deploy according to the predetermined formation."
He raises his hand, sketching a simple diagram in the air.
"Group A, enter from the east entrance, clear the first floor and basement. Group B, west entrance, responsible for the second and third floors. Group C, perimeter guard, suppress any enemy attempts to reinforce or break out. Group D, demolition team, locate critical load-bearing structures and plant explosives. Move fast, move hard, move accurately."
A mercenary raises his hand: "What if we encounter civilians?"
The warehouse falls silent for a moment.
"This area was evacuated three days ago."
"Old Man's" voice turns cold, "If there are still people inside, there are only two possibilities - hostages or armed militants disguised as civilians. Regardless of which..."
At the end, he doesn't finish the sentence, but everyone understands.
War has its own rules.
In a place like Titrick, mercy often means death.
"The window for action is 30 minutes," Old Man continues, "After 30 minutes, regardless of completion, we must withdraw. The artillery will start extending fire after 30 minutes, covering the perimeter of the target area. If anyone is still inside by then..."
He pauses: "They will never come out."
No one speaks.
The soldiers silently digest this information.
Thirty minutes, 1,800 seconds.
During this time, they must storm into a completely unfamiliar building, face an unknown number of enemies, complete a series of tasks including search, clearance, and demolition, and then retreat alive.
"Any other questions?"
A hulking mercenary speaks up, he's the leader of Group B, codenamed "Big Bear": "What if there are really traps inside? I mean...large-scale explosive traps."
This question hits the nail on the head for everyone.
"Old Man" is silent for a few seconds.
From the depths of the warehouse, a mouse scurries over the rubble, making rustling noises.
"Then rely on your eyes and ears," he finally says, "If you notice something unusual - wiring that's too dense, modifications to the walls, an area that's oddly clean or messy - report immediately, retreat immediately. Our lives are worth more than that broken building."
He surveys the room: "But let me remind you, the retreat order can only be given by me. Unauthorized retreat will be handled according to battlefield discipline. Understand?"
"Understood, sir!" A low response echoes in the warehouse.
Bravo Company is conducting a similar briefing.
Their target is that pile of dilapidated school buildings, a more complex mission - a four-story main teaching building, two subsidiary buildings, plus a playground and walls.
The building structure is more complex, with more potential hiding spots, and greater clearance difficulty.
"Remember," Bravo Company commander "Butcher" points at the map, "The original design of the school was to accommodate a large number of people. This means many rooms, long corridors, and numerous blind spots. Behind every door, around every corner, someone might be hiding."
He pulls out a photo, a graduation photo of the school before the war.
Hundreds of children and teachers stand in front of the school building, smiling brightly.
"But now, only enemies remain inside." 'Butcher' tears the photo, "Do not hesitate, do not pity. The moment you hesitate could be your last breath."