Chapter 1010: The Fall

This was the first time in his life that Clement had ever seen a dragon—in fact, he believed very few people in the entire world had the chance to witness a living, breathing dragon in reality.

And now, he was seeing two at once.

After the flying machines of the Cecilian forces were shot down, there was a chance that two enraged dragons would burst forth from the wreckage of the explosion—turning the fallen debris into something even deadlier. What cruel joke was this, played by some terrible god?

In that brief moment, countless strange thoughts flashed through Clement’s mind. Even he was surprised at how distracted he could be under such circumstances. Yet his body reacted instantly—without hesitation. Realizing he had become the target of those two furious dragons, his first instinct was to summon arcane power, conjuring a vast field of warped, distorted mirrors in the air around him. Then, moving at lightning speed, he leapt and shifted between the reflections, trying to put distance between himself and the beasts, seeking an opening to strike back.

The spell “Swallow Mirror Labyrinth” bought him precious time. It proved wise to create distance immediately: the moment he left his original position, a deafening roar erupted behind him. One of the dragons opened its massive jaws, unleashing a torrent of flames that seemed capable of scorching the very sky. Though the fiery blast had a short range, its area of effect far exceeded the barrage of the flying machines. Had Clement not retreated at once but instead charged blindly, he would have lost his first life in that searing inferno.

“Attention, all units!” Clement shouted as he darted swiftly under the cover of clouds, using missiles and arcs of electricity to harass and weaken the two enraged dragons. At the same time, he broadcast a warning through the communication spell: “Dragons! The Cecilians have brought dragons onto the battlefield! Beware those black machines—the dragons are hidden inside them!”

The sudden alert threw some into confusion. The message was so unbelievable that many didn’t immediately grasp what their commander was shouting about. But soon, as more black flying machines were shot down and the silhouettes of a third and fourth dragon appeared on the battlefield, everyone realized this was no hallucination—the dragons were truly here.

The battlefield descended into even greater chaos, verging on madness. Yet the Typhonian assault did not falter, not even slightly. Those fierce sky dominators failed to intimidate the griffon knights and battle mages. The former were devout followers of the war god; the divine interference had already transformed their minds and bodies into something beyond human. These griffon knights roared fanatically, their blood and magic blazing like a storm. The enemy’s pressure only fueled their zealotry, activating and unleashing god-given power within them. Some even became blazing torches of faith, charging forward with such ferocity that even the dragons trembled.

As for the battle mages…

From the moment they took to the skies, the battle mages knew this was a mission to be carried through to the end. Each had already bound themselves with mechanized minds and death oaths. Even facing dragons suddenly appearing on the battlefield, not a single battle mage withdrew.

As commander of this army, Clement had to maintain his mental clarity, so he did not impose the mechanized mind effect on himself. Yet even so, his heart was as steel.

He was not here to prove anything, nor for glory or faith. As a Typhon noble, simply being on this battlefield forbade him from retreating under any circumstances.

Caught in a fierce gust, he slipped into a nearby cloud. The war god’s miracle shielded him, allowing him to evade the dragons’ sharp eyes at a dangerously close range. Seizing the moment as he passed by, he unleashed a massive arc of electricity from the side, striking the black-scaled dragon. Under the dazzling electric light and at such close range, he finally saw the creature’s details clearly.

It was undoubtedly a dragon, but unlike any he had read about in ancient tomes. The black dragon’s body was covered in what looked like steel armor—but it was clearly more than mere plating. Between the heavy plates, mechanical devices and rune connections were visible. The edges of the dragon’s wings bore even more complex extensions, glowing with pale blue runes. Clement immediately thought of the runes on the Cecilian flying machines…

This intricate apparatus was a specialized “equipment,” and clearly mass-produced. These dragons were not some last-minute reinforcements pulled onto the battlefield by trickery—they were fully armed regular soldiers, an integral part of Cecilian military power.

This realization set off alarm bells in Clement’s mind.

The massive arc of electricity tore through the sky, striking the black dragon’s back. Its shield flickered, and part of the arc seemed to pierce through the defense. The enormous beast roared in fury. Yet that deafening roar, while making Clement tremble, also filled him with hope—was the dragon wounded?

He had read many descriptions of dragons in various texts. Though some were exaggerated, all agreed on one thing: dragons were immensely powerful. They were said to have scales impervious to weapons and innate magical resistance, with boundless strength and vitality. Few below legendary rank could inflict fatal wounds on an adult dragon, and even high-level spells rarely penetrated their natural magic defenses…

Yet the electric arc he had just cast had actually injured this dragon? These dragons seemed weaker than the books described…

Clement didn’t know whether the texts were wrong or these dragons were abnormal, but the fact that conventional magic could harm them was undeniably encouraging. He immediately broadcasted loudly to the entire army: “Don’t be intimidated by these dragons! They can be hurt by regular attacks! Our numerical advantage works against them…”

Suddenly, a terrifying pressure swept past him. Clement’s words cut off abruptly. He barely had time to glance sideways before a red dragon burst from a cloud bank. The steel “ram” fixed to its lower jaw gleamed coldly amid the flashes of nearby explosions. Clement saw the dreadful creature open its mouth, and a blast of scorching fire instantly wiped away all his thoughts…

But in the skies around them, an even fiercer battle was just beginning.

…

The dragon-winged mercenaries had entered the fray, and the tide of battle began to even out. Yet victory did not easily tip toward Cecilia for the first time.

It was hard to describe the Typhonians as anything less than fearless to the point of recklessness—and this terrible blizzard was entirely on the enemy’s side.

A soldier rose from beside the communication device, shouting a report to Mariland: “General! The rear armory car is severely damaged! All anti-aircraft gun crews have been destroyed, and the main cannon’s connection to the power spine was severed in the last air raid!”

“…Order the troops to evacuate the rear armory car and abandon that section,” Mariland said after a moment’s thought. “How far are we from Hill 21?”

“General, Hill 21 just reported they’re also under blizzard assault. Their anti-aircraft fire will likely be ineffective at this distance.”

“I understand,” Mariland nodded. “Maintain current speed and continue moving toward Shadow Marsh—contact Longwind Fortress and have the War Citizen enter Line Three operation.”

“Yes, General!”

Mariland frowned, looking up at the sky. Amid the interplay of anti-aircraft fire and searchlights, he saw Typhon griffon knights and battle mages locked in combat with flying machines and dragons. Each battle mage was surrounded by powerful magical auras, darting in and out of the clouds. Some had already broken through the aerial defense net and reached heights from which they could directly attack the armored train. Fireballs and arcane missiles, as powerful as medium-sized magic cannons, rained down, exploding on the bodies of the Earth Serpent and Iron Scepter or alongside the tracks.

This exceeded any human magical limit. Even legendary warriors should be showing signs of exhaustion in such a fight.

The only explanation was that these Typhonians’ magic was inexhaustible—and their power source was very likely this massive blizzard.

At that moment, a violent shaking suddenly rippled through the entire train. The screech of emergency brakes filled the air as the armored train’s speed plummeted. Many inside nearly fell. Mariland’s thoughts were interrupted. He looked up at the technician beside the main control console and shouted, “What’s happening!?”

“General!” the soldier shouted back. “The railway ahead has been blown up!”

It had finally happened.

Mariland’s face darkened. He noticed the Iron Scepter armored train had already passed the Earth Serpent and was continuing forward—it carried an engineering crew, likely attempting to repair the destroyed tracks under Typhon bombardment.

If the goal was merely to clear a temporary path and escape, this repair plan might work. But under current conditions, the odds were slim.

“Order the Iron Scepter to return,” Mariland said after a moment’s thought. “Where exactly is the destroyed section?”

“Near Junction 22, General.”

“Good. Stop near Junction 22 and have the Iron Scepter stand by there,” Mariland commanded swiftly. “Engineering teams, pour all coolant into the radiators of the iridescent generator. From now on, overload the power spine—run it dry. Once the two trains meet, open all cooling grids.”

“Yes, General!” the adjutant accepted the orders immediately, then hesitated before asking, “Sir, are you…”

“Typhonians want to trap this train, don’t they?” Mariland said grimly. “Let them have it. We’ll switch trains.”

The adjutant was startled. “But General, this is the strongest train on the Eastern Line…”

“This train is just a weapon,” Mariland said, looking his adjutant in the eye, speaking each word deliberately. “Its replacement will roll out of the factory in two months.”

“…Yes, General!”

…

Clement awoke amid maddening noise and whispers. He found himself falling through the sky, the red dragon that had just killed him streaking swiftly overhead.

He immediately understood: he had “enjoyed” the war god’s miracle.

Now, there was no turning back.

In the corner of his eye, several griffon knights were also plummeting from the sky.

A flying machine exploded into a massive fireball, breaking apart as it slid toward the southwest.

More than a dozen battle mages were swarming around a massive blue dragon. The beast was battered and bloodied—its death at the hands of mortals seemed only a matter of time. Yet among the mages, casualties mounted relentlessly. Some would revive in the next moment, while others, having exhausted the extra lives granted by miracles, plummeted from the sky in grotesque, twisted forms.

From the ground, anti-aircraft fire tore through the sky without pause, illuminating the iron-gray clouds and painting bright bursts of flame against the raging blizzard.

It all felt like a mad, fevered dream.

Clement let himself continue to fall, his gaze fixed on the ground below, zeroing in on the larger steel train. He knew the railway ahead had been destroyed. That heavily armed, mobile fortress—the one that had dealt the greatest damage to the Winterfort defenses—was doomed to remain here today.

The dragon’s sudden appearance was a colossal, unforeseen variable. It had thrown off the entire battle plan Clement and Palin Winterfort had painstakingly calculated. Clement understood that his airstrike unit was very likely to be wiped out in this massive aerial battle. But precisely because of that, he had to destroy that train.

Otherwise, the sacrifices he and his comrades made today would be utterly meaningless.

The two armored trains drew closer through the valley. Suddenly, a thick cloud of steam filled Clement’s vision.

What was happening?

He hesitated for a moment—and in that instant of distraction, a tremendous force tore through his body. A shell exploded dangerously close, and the lethal shockwave shredded his flesh and bone.

His second miracle was squandered in a blur.

When Clement came to again—rising from the chaos of delirious murmurs and piercing noise—he found himself near the larger mobile fortress. A strange sensation flooded his body and mind. It felt as if something new had taken root inside him, something vast and majestic whispering truths beyond human comprehension. And a part of his familiar self… seemed no longer his own.

He realized this was his third life. And in this life, the God of War had begun to claim the price of miracles.

Though he was no follower of the war god, having borne the divine power amid this storm, he was bound to the rules miracles demanded.

Below, the steam clouds remained thick and unyielding, unlikely to dissipate anytime soon. But Clement knew he was falling in the right direction. All hesitation had vanished from his heart. With conscious control, an endless surge of magic converged within him, igniting his body in fierce flames. In the final moments of his descent, he summoned his remaining strength to adjust his trajectory—turning himself southeast, toward Aldern.

“Rosetta… I’m watching right here…”

(End of chapter)