Chapter 1017: The Rising Tide

The massive military mobilization unfolding in the direction of Winterburg was impossible to conceal—indeed, it was brazenly on display.

Inside the Winterwolf Fortress frontline command post, within the former castle’s grand hall, officers and staff officers gathered. Intelligence from all directions poured in like rivers converging into the sea. Reports arrived one after another, orders were issued in rapid succession, and magical network terminals projected distant scenes into the air. A large number of tense, busy clerks and commanders bustled about, coordinating the flow of information and strategy.

At the far end of the hall, Gawain stood before a large terrain model. Philip and Mariland stood beside him, running through the current deployment of Typhon forces around Winterburg. Solderin, now back in his Steel Ranger commander uniform, strode up to them with urgency in his voice.

“Recon units near Green Town have spotted a large number of battle mages and mixed legions. Initial estimates put their strength at no less than twelve legions moving toward the frontline…”

Philip looked up at Gawain, his expression grave. Mariland took a battle flag model from beside the terrain map and silently placed it at the corresponding location based on Solderin’s intelligence. Around this newly added red flag, the red markers representing Typhon legions already covered the entire Winterburg defensive line, dense and flowing like a river.

“Are all the Typhon’s supernaturals just sprouting from the ground?” Amber, standing nearby, blinked in disbelief. “Where did so many supernatural legions suddenly come from? Are they planning to drown the battlefield in a sea of people?”

“All of Typhon’s standing and reserve forces, some rotating units from the southern border and eastern coast, plus the royal supernaturals… they’ve probably all been pulled in,” Gawain said with a frown, his voice low. “There are so many that they probably can’t even deploy properly across the main plains between Winterburg and Winterwolf Fortress.”

“Holy hell…” Amber jumped. “Is that Rosetta crazy? Even if you cram that many troops around Winterburg, how many can actually be effective on the frontline? Doesn’t he worry about losing control at home? Typhon’s going to become hollow inside…”

“Indeed. Such a large-scale redeployment means Typhon’s internal order is likely at a breaking point,” Gawain said. “But more than that, the fact that Rosetta can mobilize such a massive force nationwide so quickly and still maintain domestic order—that’s what we really need to pay attention to.” His gaze swept slowly over the terrain map. The intelligence gathered here over the past days was beginning to form a clearer picture in his mind, making the whole map feel more three-dimensional. “Solderin, you mentioned earlier that a large convoy loaded with energy crystals entered the Winterburg area through the Ankum Pass?”

Solderin nodded. “Yes. The exact number is unknown, but it’s definitely a huge amount. After entering Winterburg, they were diverted to several mountains near the fortress—I’ve already marked those mountains on the map.”

Gawain gave a thoughtful hum. He could see the marked mountains on the terrain model, clustered around the white castle perched atop the peak. Together with Winterburg, they formed a chain of excellent high ground. Yet despite their strategic advantage, these mountains were still quite far from the Cecil-controlled zone. Neither Cecil’s largest-scale Prism Cannons nor Typhon’s legion-level spells could threaten any targets along the border from that distance.

Mariland also noticed this. He stared at the map and muttered to himself, “From this distance… they shouldn’t be able to hit our outposts.”

“Exactly. They can’t reach us, so whatever they’re building there probably isn’t meant for us,” Gawain nodded gently. After a moment’s thought, he suddenly turned to Amber. “Where is Veronica right now?”

“She’s in the prayer chamber at the top of the castle,” Amber replied immediately. “Should I call her?”

“No. What she’s doing is important. It’s best she stays there. I’ll go see her myself.”

…

At the highest level of Winterwolf Fortress, a sacred, misty light flowed through the room like water. A faint, barely perceptible ringing hovered at the edge of hearing, together creating a peaceful, serene “field” that filled the entire floor with a relaxing yet invigorating power.

Veronica/Ophelia stood in the center of the prayer chamber, clutching a platinum scepter, her eyes gently closed as she felt the flow of holy light. The simple furnishings around her, all symbols of the sacred light, shimmered faintly. Beneath her feet lay a symbol representing pure holy light, its surface occasionally flickering with hazy visions—sometimes distant mountains, sometimes otherworldly palaces, but more often shifting, incomprehensible patterns of light and lines.

Suddenly, Veronica opened her eyes and turned toward the door. The next moment, Gawain pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” Veronica nodded slightly, her tone soft. “Everything here is as usual.”

“How’s the monitoring?” Gawain asked casually. “Is the power of the War God still seeping into this world?”

“Of course… the power not belonging to this world grows every moment. A vast river of faith flows here from all corners, making this place the focal point of earthly war power,” Veronica said softly. She raised her platinum scepter and waved it toward the eastern wall. The thick wall of enchanted stone bricks instantly shimmered with a faint light, then seemed to vanish, becoming completely transparent. Beyond it, the distant mountains in the direction of Winterburg came into view. “You can see for yourself—through the veil of holy light, you can see Him.”

Gawain focused his gaze in the indicated direction. After a moment, he spotted the massive, shadowy figure lingering between clouds and earth. It was as if some higher-dimensional entity cast its image onto this material world—hovering over the land yet distant and unreal. No matter how intently Gawain stared, he couldn’t discern any details.

It seemed all “details” had yet to be projected from that higher dimension.

“That’s the War God?” Gawain’s expression was serious. “Is that what Solderin saw?”

“That is the War God, but not fully manifested yet. That’s why even ordinary people who glimpse Him don’t immediately suffer mental corruption. He’s slowly but surely entering our world. And as more priests and believers are ‘herded’ here by Emperor Rosetta, His ‘arrival’ accelerates,” Veronica nodded. “Still, I can’t say exactly when He will fully ‘descend.’”

“Can’t you estimate at least?” Gawain asked, curious.

“‘Arrival’ isn’t a straightforward, gradual process—especially since the War God’s connection to this world is becoming increasingly chaotic,” Veronica shook her head. “If all conditions are met, He could fully enter the material world tomorrow. But if something goes wrong, He might linger in this liminal state for a whole year… That’s why I’m so curious what ‘secret’ Emperor Rosetta holds that gives him confidence to narrow the War God’s arrival to such a short timeframe. Even with Typhon’s resources, they can’t sustain this military presence around Winterburg for long…”

“He must possess knowledge we don’t have… knowledge perhaps even deeper than what the Renegades understand,” Gawain mused. “Maybe one day I’ll ask him face to face. But for now… I don’t care how he plans to bring the War God fully down. I only care when it will happen.”

“Of course. I’ll keep watch here and notify you immediately if anything changes,” Veronica said gently. She waved her hand, and the wall returned to its solid state. Standing on the holy light emblem, scepter in hand, she looked toward the Typhon Empire like a tireless sentinel.

As a powerful supernatural, she could keep watch here for a very long time.

…

North of Winterburg, on a high mountain.

A biting cold wind howled down from the north, sweeping through the valleys and peaks. Clouds hovered at a seemingly reachable height, swirling and shifting with the gusts. A mage officer clad in a dark blue Starlight robe, holding a golden oak staff, stood atop a makeshift platform built from massive logs and stones, overlooking the busy construction below.

Where mages were revered in other lands, here they were ordinary builders. Their powerful spells shaped earth and stone, and amid dazzling magical glows, massive stone platforms, towers, amplifiers, and various large-scale spell facilities rapidly took form. On this flattened mountaintop, a huge circular caster’s plaza had already emerged.

Four gray towers rose around the plaza. Above the central circular platform, dozens of meters in radius, floated a large ring inlaid with precious gems and costly metals. Over a dozen battle mages in combat robes busied themselves beneath the ring—drawing magical runes on the ground with molten metal or setting gems into precise slots.

“Commander, the focusing ring has passed resonance tests,” a mage descended from the air and bowed slightly before the officer. “Rune drawing is over halfway done. The energy tower’s output is currently at seventy percent.”

“Good… with the rune base, construction is progressing faster than expected,” the officer nodded. “How’s the crystal inlay coming?”

“Sixty percent complete. We should finish all inlays by this time tomorrow,” the battle mage replied promptly. “Also, the core orb has arrived at the mountain’s base and should be brought up soon.”

A satisfied expression crossed the officer’s face. He nodded lightly, then lifted his gaze beyond the rolling clouds between peaks, staring toward distant Winterburg.

…

In the “Arcane Hall” on the upper floor of the castle, lights shone brightly. A wall embedded with gems and metal runes shimmered with flowing light. On the glowing surface, several segmented screens displayed scenes from mountaintops—mage units busily setting up caster positions, massive towers and focusing rings taking shape. Other screens showed camps at the mountain bases, where engineers and mages worked feverishly to build various fortifications and facilities.

Baron Palin Winterburg waved his hand before the wall, switching through a series of surveillance feeds. Then he withdrew his gaze and looked toward Rosetta Augustus, who stood not far behind him.

“Your Majesty,” Winterburg nodded slightly, “the construction projects across the region are more than halfway complete. The work atop Winterburg Peak is largely finished.”

“Good,” Rosetta Augustus said with a calm expression. “It seems, at least in this regard, our progress has been smooth.”

Winterburg studied the emperor for a moment, hesitating before speaking. “Your Majesty, we still haven’t synchronized any intelligence with Cecil, nor established any form of communication. We’ve come this far almost entirely on tacit understanding. Isn’t that too risky? Even if Emperor Gawain knows our intentions, that ‘trust’ must be limited at best. Our border skirmishes have escalated to a dangerously volatile level—hardly what one would call ‘controlled military actions.’ And now, with our large-scale troop reinforcements… could this not provoke the Cecilians further?”

Rosetta was silent for several seconds, then slowly shook his head. “On this matter, we cannot share intelligence with Cecil, not even hint at it. Such actions would dangerously disrupt the ‘order’ of this war and could lead the gods toward unpredictable changes… There are already too many variables at play.”

“And what of Cecil’s side…?”

“Gawain Cecil is a far-sighted and wise ruler. More importantly, he wields a strong hand. As long as he remains steady, Cecil will hold firm,” Rosetta said slowly. But after a brief pause, he shifted his tone. “Still, your concerns are not without merit, Baron Palin. The Cecilians’ ‘trust’ and ‘understanding’ of us are not unconditional. By now, it’s likely worn thin… I will take this into consideration.”

He shook his head, ending the topic for the moment, then strolled over to a window on the side of the hall. Through the crystal panes, his gaze swept down over the castle courtyard below.

Groups of soldiers were escorting clusters of black-robed figures across the courtyard. In one corner, many more cloaked individuals stood with bowed heads, as if awaiting judgment.

Their faces were hidden beneath hoods, making it impossible to discern their age, gender, or build. Yet they shared a common trait: unsteady steps, bodies swaying as if sleepwalking, lost in a dazed stupor. From beneath the hems and sleeves of some robes, sickening, grotesque tentacle-like appendages writhed and contracted in a nauseating rhythm.

Rosetta’s eyes drifted over the black-robed forms. After a long silence, he murmured to himself:

“Pray…”

(End of chapter)