Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

The scorching afternoon sun hung high over Kandara as Matalebe fighters moved about their makeshift camps, tending to their weapons, resupplying, and counting the spoils of their recent victories. Scattered among the city streets were small groups of fighters, some gathered around fires, roasting stolen livestock, while others cleaned their rifles and checked their ammunition.

In one corner of the camp, a group of men was hauling crates of supplies into a central warehouse—a storage building they had commandeered from the Zambesian government weeks prior. They worked with a sense of routine, their confidence boosted by their recent string of successes against the weakened Zambesi military.

Among them was Commander Shabaka, a seasoned Matalebe officer who had fought in numerous skirmishes over the years. He was known for his iron will and sharp instincts, often leading his men through guerrilla tactics that had brought them victory after victory. Today, however, he seemed relaxed, casually inspecting a rifle as his men moved about.

"Keep an eye on those crates," Shabaka muttered to one of the younger fighters. If we lose these supplies, we'll be fighting with sticks and stones."

The younger fighter nodded, quickly hauling a heavy crate over his shoulder. Shabaka watched for a moment before shifting his gaze to the city beyond their camp. Kandara had become their stronghold—a city they had overrun with little resistance. The Matalebe had looted everything of value, and their fighters roamed the streets with an air of dominance.

Suddenly, a distant rumble reached Shabaka's ears. At first, he thought it was thunder, but there were no clouds in the sky. He squinted toward the horizon, confused when the sound grew louder—a deep, ominous roar.

Before anyone could react, the sky seemed to split open. Explosions erupted across the city, shaking the ground beneath them. Fireballs and smoke billowed into the air as buildings crumbled, sending debris flying in all directions.

"What the—?" Shabaka was cut off as a massive explosion tore through the warehouse he was standing beside. The force of the blast sent him flying backward, his body crashing into the hard dirt. Dazed and covered in dust, he struggled to his feet, his ears ringing.

All around him, chaos had erupted. Matalebe fighters scrambled for cover, shouting orders to one another, but their words were drowned out by the deafening sound of bombs detonating. The once confident soldiers were now running in every direction, trying to find safety.

Shabaka wiped blood from a cut on his forehead and forced himself to focus. His instincts kicked in, and he immediately looked to the sky, searching for the source of the attack. But there was nothing—no planes, no enemy soldiers, just smoke and fire.

"What's happening?" one of his men shouted, running toward him, wide-eyed and panicked. "Who's attacking us?"

Shabaka clenched his fists, his heart pounding. He had no answers. The attack was too sudden, too overwhelming. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

"I don't know!" Shabaka shouted back, his voice barely audible over the explosions. "But get the men to regroup! We need to get out of here—now!"

As another bomb exploded nearby, the ground trembled once more, throwing several of his fighters to the ground. Fires raged across the city, and thick black smoke filled the air.

"It's like bombs! They are coming from above!" One of his men shouted.

"Above?!" Shabak repeated frustratingly. There was no way that could have happened. He was briefed by the Triesenese Empire that the Zambesi had no airforce, so how come they are bombs dropping on them? Could it be that Triesenberg betrayed them?

No, that's too impossible, Shabak thought. They've invested a lot in Matalebe.

So who could attack them?

"Commander! What are we going to do?"

Shabaka's mind raced, struggling to comprehend the situation as the ground around him continued to shake from the relentless bombing. He scanned the horizon, still unable to spot any sign of the attackers. His men were panicking, and he knew that if he didn't act soon, they would be completely overwhelmed.

"Get to the outskirts of the city!" Shabaka shouted, trying to regain control of the situation. "Regroup at the fallback point! Move!"

His fighters hesitated for a moment, their faces pale with fear, but Shabaka's commanding presence snapped them out of their stupor. They began scrambling toward the outskirts of Kandara, ducking and weaving between the debris as more bombs exploded around them.

Shabaka watched them for a moment, his jaw clenched. Whoever was attacking them had planned this well—they were being torn apart without ever seeing the enemy. He needed to figure out who was responsible and fast.

Another explosion rocked the ground nearby, forcing Shabaka to dive for cover behind a crumbling wall. As he hit the ground, he pulled out a small radio from his belt, fumbling with the dials until he found the frequency he needed.

"Command! This is Shabaka, come in!" he barked into the radio, his voice strained as he ducked beneath a shower of debris. "We're under heavy attack in Kandara. Airstrikes! Where the hell are they coming from?"

Static crackled in his ear for a few agonizing seconds before a voice finally responded. "Shabaka, this is Command. What do you mean you are under attack?"

Shabaka gritted his teeth, growing more frustrated by the second as another round of explosions ripped through the city. He ducked again, barely avoiding a cloud of dust and debris.

"I don't know where they're coming from," Shabaka shouted into the radio, struggling to be heard over the chaos. "Bombs are falling from the sky! We're getting torn apart down here! You told us Zambesi didn't have an air force!"

There was another moment of static, followed by a more composed voice on the other end. "Shabaka, this is Command. We've received no intel of any enemy air capabilities. Are you certain they're airstrikes?"

Shabaka's patience snapped. "Certain? Are you blind, Command? The whole damn city's being leveled! How do you think that's happening?"

The explosions intensified, the roar of the falling bombs ringing in his ears. Fires were spreading rapidly, and the once-organized Matalebe fighters were scattering like leaves in a storm. Shabaka forced himself to focus. He had to salvage what was left of his forces before they were completely wiped out.

"We will inform the Triesenberg about this development," replied the Command. "For now, retreat. Have your men join forces in Moba."

Shabaka gritted his teeth as he heard the words over the crackling radio. "Retreat?" The thought of pulling his men back grated on his pride, but there was no choice. His forces were being decimated by an invisible enemy from the skies, and they couldn't fight back if they didn't even know where the attack was coming from.