Building a Conglomerate in Another World

Busan – Defense Ridge, Dawn

The horizon was a dull gray. Fog clung to the hills like a shroud, masking everything beyond the ridgeline. Cold wind swept down from the mountains, biting through coats and uniforms as soldiers stirred in the trenches.

Captain Luis Graham knelt behind a sandbag wall, peering through his field binoculars again. His breath came out in clouds, visible in the freezing morning air.

Below, the city of Busan was quiet, but the southern horizon glowed faint orange from the fires still burning in Pohang.

No one had slept much.

Behind him, Amerathian and Korean engineers worked by lantern light, reinforcing wooden platforms and stacking fresh crates of ammunition. Korean soldiers, grim-faced, passed along the line, tightening bayonets and loading rifles.

General Nam approached, a fresh steaming mug of tea in his hand. He passed it to Graham without a word.

"Thanks," Graham muttered.

"They're regrouping," Nam said quietly, pointing toward the lower hills. "Russian scouts retreated after last night's air raid, but they'll come again. And harder."

Graham took a slow sip. The tea burned, but it helped clear his head.

"We've confirmed two divisions pushing north from Pohang," he said. "If our bombers didn't stop them, they'll try to encircle us by midday."

Nam nodded. "We've reinforced the eastern slope. My men will hold that side."

Graham nodded in return. "If they break the ridge, they take Busan. We hold. No matter what."

Sea of Japan – VSS Lexington

The decks of the Amerathian aircraft carrier were slick with morning dew. Sailors and mechanics moved quickly, checking landing wires, refueling aircraft, and loading fresh bombs.

Commander Alexander Hart stood with his arms folded on the bridge, watching a formation of scout planes disappear into the early sky.

"Last night's strikes hit Russian artillery positions hard," his operations officer reported. "But they're still advancing. They've rerouted one of their heavy units west, likely to flank."

Hart grunted. "They're trying to stretch us thin."

"Should we launch another wave?"

"Send the bombers again. Focus on the roads north of Pohang. Slow them down."

"Yes, sir."

Hart turned toward the open sea. They were close now—less than seventy nautical miles from the Korean coast. Soon, Busan would be within range of their ship-based artillery as well.

"Contact the Busan command line," Hart said. "Let them know help is on the way."

Pohang – Ruins of the Southern District

The once-quiet fishing port was now a broken shell of itself. Smoke rose from collapsed rooftops, shattered windows, and scorched fields. The air stank of gunpowder and ash.

Lieutenant Nakamura leaned against a half-destroyed wall, bandaging a wound on his shoulder. His men were scattered across a ruined intersection, repositioning after the latest artillery barrage.

A runner dashed toward him, panting and wide-eyed.

"Sir! Amerathian bombers hit the Russian column last night—north of the village road. They lost at least eight artillery wagons."

Nakamura blinked. "They're falling back?"

"Not yet. Just slowed."

He looked down at his blood-stained bandage. "Then we keep pressure on them until they break."

He limped to his feet and raised his rifle. "Form up. We take the eastern house blocks before noon."

Washington, D.C. – The White House

The war room was packed again. A thick layer of tobacco smoke hung in the air as President Matthew Hesh reviewed dispatches laid out across the long oak table.

Collins walked in with a fresh envelope in hand. "Telegram from Busan. Captain Graham reports air support helped halt Russian scouts, but they expect a full attack within hours."

Matthew rubbed his temples.

"And Pohang?"

"Still holding. But barely."

A Navy officer entered. "Strike Group Omega is within firing range. They'll begin supporting Busan with long-range fire by evening."

Matthew stood and looked around the room.

"This is the moment," he said. "The Russians want to punch a hole in our line. If we hold them at Busan, they'll bleed out before they reach the capital."

"And if we don't?" someone asked quietly.

Matthew's answer was simple. "Then we lose Korea."

St. Petersburg – General Staff Headquarters

Inside the Kremlin's military planning chamber, Tsar Nicholas II stared down at a map littered with pins and wax seals. His advisors circled nervously, watching the ruler's mood shift with each passing hour.

"We are moving too slowly," Nicholas growled. "That air raid cost us momentum."

"We've lost two bridges near Pohang," an officer admitted. "We've begun rerouting troops, but it will delay the third wave by nearly a day."

Nicholas slammed a fist against the table. "I do not care about roads. Push through! Take Busan before they can fully dig in."

"Tsar," Alexei began carefully, "the Amerathians are well-armed, and the Koreans are standing firm. This is no longer a simple occupation. If we overextend—"

Nicholas cut him off. "Then we take it by force. No delays."

He leaned over the map. "They cannot fight us forever."

Busan – Defense Ridge, Late Morning

The sound came before the smoke—a high-pitched whistling, followed by a thunderous boom.

Russian artillery had found their range.

The ridge shook under the impact of a direct hit to an ammunition depot on the western slope. Flames burst skyward. Soldiers ducked for cover, some yelling for water, others for medics.

Captain Graham raced up from the command trench.

"Get that fire out!" he barked. "Move the munitions back—get them away from the front lines!"

General Nam arrived moments later, mud splattered across his coat.

"They've begun their main advance," he said grimly. "We have visual confirmation—Russian infantry, two battalions, moving along the treeline."

"East or west?"

"Both."

Graham cursed under his breath. "They're testing us."

Nam looked him in the eye. "Then we must not break."

An Amerathian forward observer called down from a perch in the watchtower.

"Commander! New movement—northwest slope. More Russian troops emerging from the woods. It's a flanking maneuver!"

Graham looked at Nam.

"Here it comes."

Sea of Japan – VSS Lexington

"Commander! We've received word—Busan is under heavy fire. Multiple artillery hits confirmed. They're calling for immediate support."

Commander Hart didn't hesitate.

"Launch the second wave. Focus on the northwest slope. If they're trying to flank, we stop them cold."

Aircraft engines roared as fresh squadrons launched from the deck.

Hart gripped the railing and muttered under his breath.

"Hang on, Busan. We're coming."

Busan – Eastern Flank

Lieutenant Markos Ellery led a small squad of Amerathian riflemen through the forested slope east of the city. They had dug foxholes overnight, reinforced the trails, and were now braced for impact.

They didn't wait long.

Russian troops crested the ridge, rifles at the ready.

"Open fire!" Ellery shouted.

Gunshots echoed through the forest as both sides exchanged fire in the foggy light. The clash was sudden, brutal, and loud.

One of Ellery's men was hit. A Korean squad reinforced their position moments later, bringing fresh ammunition.

Ellery ducked behind a fallen log and reloaded.

"They're not getting through us," he muttered.

But deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.