333: Chapter 333 The Arithmetic of Despair

Ephraim set down his coffee cup and gave a steady command: "Activate the 'Iron Dome' automatic interception mode. Companies A and C will prioritize protecting the Southern Military District Headquarters and the ammunition depots; Companies B and D will cover the direction of the settlements."

"Yes, sir!"

On the screen, green triangles representing interceptor missiles rose from the positions of each company like venomous snakes, colliding with the incoming red targets in the air and exploding into clusters of flickering fireballs. Out of the first wave of fifty rockets, over forty were successfully intercepted, while the rest exploded in open areas. A few minutes later, another batch of sixty rockets soared from three other positions.

The trajectories of these rockets had been optimized, and the ratio of decoy warheads mixed in had been precisely calculated—some warheads were real, while others were just empty shells stuffed with scrap metal, used to exhaust the Iron Dome's fire control channels and radar tracking resources. The second batch, the third batch, the fourth batch...

By the fifth wave of the attack, Ephraim's expression shifted from steady to tense, and then from tense to pale.

"Sir! Company B reports—the speed of replacing ammunition crates cannot keep up with the interception demand! Currently, all companies combined have only twenty interceptor missiles left ready to fire!"

"How many are left?"

"Total for all companies, about fifteen to twenty!" the operator answered, almost shouting. "And the next wave..."

He paused for a second, a second in which the air in the command center seemed to have been sucked into a vacuum.

"...The number of targets in the next wave is over one hundred and fifty."

Ephraim closed his eyes.

On the large screen behind him, dense red light points were rising simultaneously from various hidden launch sites in the northern desert of Gaza. They trailed long tail flames, dyeing the pre-dawn night sky a terrifying orange-red. Those were one hundred and fifty improved rockets, forming dense red arrows on the radar screen. Higher above the arrows, more than thirty suicide drones of various models, which could not be effectively captured by traditional fire control radars, were climbing; the thermobaric and high-explosive warheads mounted under their bellies gleamed matte black under the starlight.

"Activate all remaining interception channels," Ephraim's voice was hoarse. "Prioritize protecting..."

He suddenly found himself unable to continue. Prioritize protecting what? The ammunition depots? The command post? The settlements? Or the Southern Military District Headquarters? There weren't enough interceptor missiles—this was a desperate arithmetic he had never seen in his thirty years of service.

At 4:57, the interceptor missiles of all six Iron Dome companies were completely exhausted. After the final five Tamir interceptors soared into the sky, the launch boxes fell into a deathly silence.

5:00 sharp.

The Squid Nation's Southern Military District Headquarters, air defense command center, ammunition depots, communication hubs, and reserve assembly points near three Kibbutz settlements were simultaneously hit by precise saturation coverage from dozens of rockets and suicide drones. Explosions rang out one after another, and the firelight illuminated the pre-dawn horizon.

Among them, the counter-attack reserve barracks of the Southern Military District Headquarters was hit consecutively by four bunker-buster warheads. The ventilation shafts of the underground shelters collapsed, trapping sleeping officers and soldiers in thick smoke. The secondary explosions at the ammunition depot lasted for a full five minutes, with the shockwave shattering glass for several kilometers around.

The commander of the Southern Military District was seriously injured by shrapnel during the retreat and was carried into the underground command post by an adjutant. Communications were cut, fire control systems failed, and the various brigades on the front lines lost contact with their superiors.

Meanwhile, in the Red Sea.

Outside Saleh Port in Yemen, the YJ-83 coastal anti-ship missile position.

This was located on a raised sandstone plateau three kilometers north of Saleh Port. The Red Sea mist spread out like a veil in the morning light, and a few seagulls huddled on the iron frame of an abandoned lighthouse. Six launch boxes disguised as discarded containers flipped open their front covers simultaneously—each box contained an improved YJ-83 anti-ship missile.

Target data had been sent back in real-time by the high-altitude reconnaissance drone "Hummingbird-7": the Squid Nation Navy's base at Eilat Port, coordinates 34 degrees 57 minutes East, 29 degrees 33 minutes North. Currently docked: one Sa'ar 6-class corvette, the "Eilat"; two Sa'ar 4.5-class missile boats; and two supply ships fully loaded with spare parts. The coordinates for the ammunition depots along the base's coast had been locked.

"Target confirmed. Launch."

The command was so concise it was almost cold. Six missiles flew across the Gulf of Aqaba at high subsonic speeds, skimming the sea. Their active radar seekers turned on fifteen kilometers from the target, achieving centimeter-level resolution of the target area.

The air defense radar at the Eilat Port base only captured the reflection signals three minutes later. The officer on duty only had time to sound the alarm before the first missile accurately hit the amidships of the Sa'ar 6 corvette "Eilat"—the explosion tore a massive hole at the waterline, and seawater instantly flooded the engine room.

The second missile hit the pier between the two Sa'ar 4.5 missile boats; the shockwave overturned one, while the bridge of the other was pierced by fragments.

The third missile burrowed into the coastal ammunition depot.

When the fireball from the secondary explosion rose in the pre-dawn darkness, half the sky could be seen dyed blood-red from dozens of kilometers away. Ammunition fragments fell into the Red Sea like rain, kicking up countless splashes of water.

Eilat Port, the Squid Nation's only naval port on the Red Sea coast, lost its combat capability within forty-seven seconds.

And thousands of miles away on the Persian Plateau, another strike was being carried out simultaneously.

In the mountains of western Persia, the camouflage covers of three underground silos slid open simultaneously at 4:55 AM. Dozens of improved "Meteor-3" medium-range ballistic missiles soared into the sky trailing blazing tail flames, carving arcs in the southern night sky as they flew toward military targets around Tel Aviv.

Jerusalem, the temporary official residence of the Squid Nation's Prime Minister.

In the underground safe room, Levi, who was temporarily in charge, was startled from a light sleep by the piercing air raid siren. He rushed to the communication console barefoot and grabbed the receiver.

"Where?! Where were they fired from?!"

The answer from the other end of the line made his hand holding the receiver tremble.

Sinwar had not stopped.

"Blade of Dawn" was not merely a display of firepower. It was a coordination—Gaza's saturation rockets exhausted the enemy's forward interception capabilities, Houssa's coastal firepower and Persia's deep strikes pinned down the enemy's strategic reserves and defensive focus, and following this series of firepower coverage was a ground offensive.

The northern border of Gaza.

When the first true ray of morning light illuminated the horizon, Sinwar stood before the tactical screen of the "Rock" command post and pressed the talk button: "All combat units of the Gaza Liberation Army, transition to ground offensive. Target: all military facilities in the Squid Nation's Southern Military District defense zone."

Under the same morning light, the ruins zone on the northeastern border of Gaza.

This area was marked on the map as the "A7 Buffer Zone," but in reality, it was neither a zone nor a buffer. Before the ceasefire, this was the defense zone of a reinforced tank company under the 401st Armored Brigade of the Squid Nation's Southern Military District, deployed with twelve Merkava-4M main battle tanks and attached to two mechanized infantry platoons. Engineers had reinforced the bunkers, dug anti-tank trenches, and planted dense directional mines on both sides of the road half a year ago.