Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

"Prepare to fall back!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the noise of the burning outpost and the murmurs of his men.

Suddenly, the sound of a low rumble filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. The leader of the Matalebe warriors froze, his eyes widening as he looked up at the sky. The rumble grew into a deafening roar, and then he saw them—aircraft, four of them, slicing through the sky with menacing speed.

"Take cover!" he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the ear-splitting noise of the planes. The Matalebe warriors scrambled some diving for cover among the rocks, others standing in stunned disbelief.

Without warning, the aircraft began their deadly work. Bombs tumbled from the planes, hurtling toward the ground with terrifying speed. The first explosion rocked the earth, sending a massive plume of dirt, debris, and fire into the air. The shockwave knocked several men off their feet, the force of the blast tearing through the already devastated outpost.

More bombs followed in rapid succession. The air was filled with the sounds of explosions, shrapnel slicing through the air, and the screams of those caught in the blasts. The outpost, already a scene of carnage, was now being obliterated piece by piece. Timber and stone flew in all directions, and the flames from earlier fires were fanned into raging infernos by the concussive blasts.

The Matalebe leader, half-buried under debris, struggled to his feet, coughing as the thick smoke filled his lungs. He could barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears and the continued thunder of the bombs.

The leader of the Matalebe warriors blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the smoke and dust made it difficult to see. The intense heat from the fires stung his eyes.

"What\'s happening?" He looked around confusedly.

His warriors, though dazed and injured, were still alive. The bombs had been terrifyingly precise, targeting the outpost and sparing the Matalebe warriors who had been on the outskirts. The realization struck him—this was no accident. The Votswana Colonial Army hadn\'t come to wipe them out. They had come to send a message.

The leader quickly surveyed his men. They were shaken but still standing. The aircraft had made another pass but had not dropped any more bombs. Instead, they flew in tight formation, circling the area as if to ensure that the destruction below was complete.

"Triesenese aircraft," the leader muttered under his breath.

Not a long moment after, the Votswana Colonial Army arrived at the outpost manned with machine guns and semi-automatic bolt action rifles. The leader knew that they had no chance against the heavily armed Votswana Colonial Army.

The Matalebe warriors watched from a distance as one of the vehicles\' doors swung open. A man stepped out, his posture stiff and authoritative. The leader recognized him immediately as a Triesenberg—pale-skinned, dressed in a crisp military uniform that contrasted sharply with the rugged surroundings.

Next to him, another man emerged, this one black, dressed similarly but with a less commanding air. The leader guessed that he was likely an interpreter. The two men began to walk towards the smoldering remains of the outpost.

The Triesenberg official surveyed the scene with cold detachment, his eyes taking in the devastation. He exchanged a few words with the interpreter, who nodded and began speaking in a language the leader could not understand.

The leader of the Matalebe warriors remained hidden, his heart pounding as he observed the interaction. He knew that this was a critical moment. If the Triesenberg and the Votswana soldiers decided to pursue the Matalebe, there would be little hope of escape.

Suddenly, the Triesenberg official turned his gaze toward the spot where the leader and his warriors were concealed. It was as if he could sense their presence, though he made no move to indicate he had seen them. Instead, he spoke calmly to the interpreter, who nodded again before stepping forward.

The interpreter raised his voice, speaking in the local dialect, his words carrying across the battlefield. "Matalebe warriors, we know you are there. We have no desire for further bloodshed. The Votswana Colonial Army has no quarrel with your people. We are here to speak with your leader. So whoever it is, please step forward so we can discuss this matter peacefully."

The Matalebe leader hesitated, his instincts telling him to remain hidden, but he knew that refusing to show himself could escalate the situation further. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what might come, and slowly emerged from the shadows. His warriors watched anxiously as he stepped forward.

"I am the leader of the Matalebe," he declared. He met the gaze of the Triesenberg official, who regarded him with a neutral expression.

The interpreter translated the leader\'s words, and the Triesenberg official nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. He took a step closer and spoke.

"We have no interest in your destruction," the Triesenberg official began, his words relayed through the interpreter. "We have orders from His Royal Highness, Prince Theodore Triesenberg, to make contact with the Matalebe Tribes."

The Matalebe leader tilted his head to the side, why does the prince of a Western nation care about the Matalebe Tribes?

"Why would a prince from a distant land concern himself with our people?" the Matalebe leader asked.

The Triesenberg official, still composed, gestured for the interpreter to relay the message. "Prince Theodore has interests in the region, and he understands that the Matalebe have a significant role to play in the stability of this area. He is aware of the struggles you face and the resistance you have shown against domestic oppression.

The prince wishes to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The Matalebe leader narrowed his eyes. "What kind of arrangement?"

"That will be discussed if you come with us."

The Matalebe leader\'s eyes flickered with suspicion. The idea of leaving his warriors and going with these foreigners was unsettling. He knew that any misstep could lead to his capture or even death. Yet, the mention of a mutually beneficial arrangement piqued his interest. If there was a chance to secure something advantageous for his people, it was worth considering.

He glanced back at his warriors. They would follow his lead, no matter where it took them. But this decision was his alone to make.

The Triesenberg official watched him closely, waiting for a response. Finally, the Matalebe leader spoke. "I will go with you, but my warriors stay here. Any harm that comes to them will be met with swift retribution."

The interpreter relayed the message, and the Triesenberg official nodded, seemingly unperturbed by the leader\'s conditions. "Agreed. Your warriors will remain unharmed. Now, shall we?"