Chapter 1008: “Miracle”

The Dust Serpent and the Iron Scepter armored trains thundered along parallel tracks, two war machines speeding away from the plains and, minutes ago, entering the mountainous region near the Shadow Marsh. Outside the windows, rolling hills blurred past, and the daylight grew dimmer, swallowed by thickening clouds.

Mariland stood by the window, watching the sky beyond—a vast expanse now completely shrouded in iron-gray clouds. Weak sunlight barely pierced the gloom, casting an eerie, sickly pallor deep within the overcast. Outside, a biting wind howled, whipping up snow and dust into a drifting, murky veil that stretched over the desolate, uninhabited land.

This was typical no-man’s-land along the northern border—bleak and barren, a landscape of desolation that had become all too familiar. And lately, this cloud-covered weather had become the norm.

Yet, beneath the surface of his calm exterior, a vague but persistent unease gnawed at Mariland’s mind. He couldn’t pinpoint its source, but years of hard-won battlefield experience taught him never to dismiss such instincts. He subscribed to the wisdom of the great scholar Falman from the First Ansu Dynasty, who once said: “Behind every intuition lies a clue overlooked by the conscious mind.”

This unease wasn’t baseless. Something was off—something discordant in the surroundings that his subconscious had already detected, even if his conscious mind had yet to grasp it. His years of life-or-death experience were sounding an alarm deep within.

“General,” his adjutant noticed the darkening expression on Mariland’s face—an odd sight after a smooth mission so far. “Is something wrong?”

“Any reports from aerial reconnaissance?” Mariland asked, frowning. “What about the ground scouts?”

The adjutant blinked, surprised by the sudden questions, but quickly replied, “We just checked in five minutes ago. Everything’s normal. We’ve entered the long-range artillery cover zone of Hill 18. The Typhon forces took a hit here before—they probably won’t make the same mistake twice.”

He paused, then added, “Also, the dragon cavalry just reported that the cloud cover is thickening, affecting visual reconnaissance. They’re lowering their altitude.”

“Clouds…” Mariland repeated the word under his breath, eyes fixed on the heavy overcast. Suddenly, the shape and color of the clouds struck him as strange—unnatural. His vigilance spiked instantly. “Tell the dragon cavalry to watch the clouds closely. The Typhon might use them to launch an airstrike!”

The adjutant’s eyes widened. He quickly relayed the order, then returned with a hint of doubt. “Is that even possible, sir? Even with cloud cover, the flying mages and gryphons shouldn’t be a match for the dragon cavalry…”

Mariland said nothing, his gaze locked on the sky. Snowflakes had begun to fall within the iron-gray clouds, and in mere seconds, the flakes thickened rapidly, swirling in the howling wind. A single word flashed through Mariland’s mind like lightning: blizzard.

At that moment, a chilling, seemingly absurd thought struck him: wind and snow were normal in the northern winter, but what if… the Typhon had conjured this blizzard through some powerful miracle?

What if this blizzard was more than just a storm?

“Sir!” a technician suddenly shouted nearby. “The onboard mana sensors have failed! All detectors are being jammed!”

“Contact Shadow Marsh base. Request immediate air support from the dragon cavalry special forces,” Mariland ordered without hesitation. “We might be in trouble.”

…

Outside the protective shields, the wind roared—a fierce, biting gale that could intimidate even high-level warriors. Sharp ice crystals sliced through the air like blades. Thick clouds churned like viscous sludge, rolling in every direction, carrying faint howls and whispers—an environment hostile to human life. Even sturdy military gryphons struggled to fly in such conditions.

Yet Clement felt no pressure or damage from the storm. On the contrary, he felt as if bathed in spring’s gentle breeze amid the tempest.

Hundreds of battle mages and an even larger number of gryphon riders flew alongside him, equally unbothered.

The terrifying wind and freezing cold seemed to part around these Typhon soldiers, and the dense clouds offered no real resistance. Flying through the storm, Clement’s vision was not obscured; the clouds acted like extra eyes, revealing everything inside and beyond.

He dropped slightly in altitude, scanning the cloud edges for the Cecil flying machines patrolling nearby, while glancing down at the armored trains rolling across the land below. Magic surged endlessly around him, each breath replenishing his strength—a sensation he had never experienced in decades as a mage.

This was one of the War God’s miracle rites—the Army Within the Storm.

As a mage, Clement didn’t know all the details of the War God’s cult, but as a scholar, he was familiar with the famous miracle rites and their religious lore. One passage described the deity’s image and deeds: He marched through storms, and evil men, trembling in fear, saw only a giant clad in gray armor standing firm amid the tempest. Invisible to the unworthy, the storm itself was His cloak and banner. Warriors who followed this banner were granted boundless strength and three lives within the storm, destined for ultimate victory.

Now, these mages and gryphon riders flying through the blizzard, preparing for an airstrike, were those very warriors of legend.

Clement inhaled deeply, feeling the surging magic within, and activated a communication spell. “Break formation. Group up as planned. Close in on those flying machines—take out those damn machines first. Cecil’s mobile fortresses will be easier to handle afterward!”

The battle mages and gryphon riders within the clouds swiftly obeyed, forming mixed squads and advancing toward the flying machines that appeared crystal clear in their vision. Meanwhile, the blizzard outside had fully formed.

…

Within the howling wind, swirling mist, and icy vapor curtain, visibility plummeted. The brutal weather began to disrupt the dragon cavalry’s flight. To counter the worsening conditions, the patrol flying machines activated extra environmental shields.

Denser, heavier-than-normal protective barriers shimmered around each craft. The power cores hummed louder, diverting more energy to defense and stabilization. The “dragon wings” on the conical bodies folded slightly, their edges glowing with additional runes. Stronger wind blessings and elemental affinity spells were woven into the steel giants. Thanks to these temporary enchantments, the turbulence gradually eased.

The squadron commander gripped his controls tightly, eyes sharp as a hawk. An experienced gryphon rider, he had flown in bad weather before, but never in a blizzard this fierce. Ground communications raised his alertness, and the sudden surge in wind seemed to confirm the general’s fears: this storm was unnatural.

The Typhon were likely hiding deep within the clouds.

Visibility had dropped to a worrying level; naked eyes could no longer discern distant threats. The mechanic activated extra cockpit filters, revealing the distorted magical signatures in the clouds as hazy shapes—unclear, but enough to serve as a warning.

Below, the swirling snow and wind blurred the armored trains into ghostly outlines, their acceleration barely perceptible.

Suddenly, the commander spotted a flash of fire deep within the clouds.

Through the distortion filters, large, unmistakable magical fluctuations appeared in the once-empty sky.

“Enemy sighted!” the commander’s voice rang out over the internal channel. “Southeast—”

“Unit 12 under attack!” “Unit 6 under fire!” “Taking hits! This is Unit 7!” “Engaging enemy! Requesting cover! I’m being targeted!”

A searing red beam swept across from afar. Fortunately, the heightened alert had the flying machines’ power cores running at full capacity, shields blazing. The beam rippled across the barrier. The commander maneuvered the dragon cavalry while unleashing a dense barrage of arcane missiles, barking orders nonstop: “Disperse to the flanks!” “Teams Two and Three, sweep the southeast clouds!” “All units, activate identification lights and keep distance!” “Call for ground fire support!”

Suddenly, fierce combat erupted. Ghostly enemies emerged from the blizzard—Typhon battle mages and gryphon riders pouring out of the thick clouds, engaging the steel dragon cavalry in brutal close combat. Compared to the Typhon air force Cecil knew, these foes were different: faster, more agile, and terrifyingly fearless. The storm hampered the dragon cavalry, but the seemingly fragile Typhon warriors drew strength from the tempest, becoming savage and powerful.

Battle mages and gryphon riders unleashed missiles, lightning, and high-energy beams at the flying machines, which responded with relentless, heavy barrages. The dim sky lit up with continuous fire, explosions scattering clouds and snow. Each flash revealed countless shadows locked in deadly struggle within the storm.

Clement’s heart surged.

He had never witnessed such a scene, never fought on such a battlefield.

Flesh and steel clashed in the blizzard; missiles, lightning, and beams tore through the sky. Two armies fought for dominion of the heavens. Regardless of today’s outcome, this unprecedented aerial battle was destined to be etched into history.

Suddenly, intense beams of light swept across the sky, cutting through the darkness to reveal shadowy figures locked in aerial combat. Moments later, a relentless barrage of explosions and howling blasts echoed from the ground—pale blue trails of cannon shells and blazing crimson high-energy beams streaked through the air. Shrapnel burst apart, and deafening booms shook the entire battlefield.

The anti-aircraft guns of the Iron Scepter and the World Serpent had opened fire.

Count Clement furrowed his brow—he and his battlemages were still too far away to launch an effective assault on those armored trains.

“Loyalty to our Empire!” Through the force field generated by the wide-area communication spell, he heard a fervent roar from a gryphon knight commander. In the next instant, he saw a gryphon, forcibly driven by its rider’s mental control, dive toward the ground. The valiant knight weaved through the anti-air barrage and enemy fire with fearless determination, but his luck ran out quickly: a magic crystal shell streaked past him from below. Sensing the surge of magical energy, the shell detonated midair. The terrifying shockwave and searing heat effortlessly tore through the knight’s protective aura, ripping both him and his gryphon to shreds.

A second later, the shattered knight and gryphon reformed, materializing once more where they had fallen, charging downward again.

The god of war bestowed miracles—warriors who fought bravely in the storm were granted boundless strength and… three lives.

A flying machine swooped near the fanatic knight, unleashing a dense stream of bullets. The knight showed no fear, charging straight into the hail of fire while hurling a spear forged from crackling lightning. The next moment, his body was torn apart again—but the spear struck a critical point on the flying machine, causing it to explode into a brilliant fireball in midair.

Moments later, Clement saw the knight reappear once more. His shredded form reassembled in the sky as he surged forward through the gale. Behind him, a cloak of writhing tendrils and flesh-like growths billowed wildly. Like a monstrous fiend, he charged headlong into the anti-air barrage again.

Miracles come at a price—those who approach godhood are no longer human.

A blinding beam sliced through the sky, striking the twisted knight once more with anti-air fire from the armored train. His bloodied cloak and writhing tendrils ignited and vaporized instantly, leaving only charred fragments falling from the sky.

This time, the knight did not return.

It was the third time—miracles are finite, and those who exhaust them return their souls to the gods.

“Looks like even three lives granted by the gods aren’t enough against the Cecilian ‘new toys,’” Clement said with a wry smile. Raising his hands high, he called upon the power of storm, lightning, frost, and flame, charging forward once again.

(End of chapter)