Chapter 1020: The Power of Annihilation

Amber said she had “captured” a Typhon outside the castle.

But in truth, “captured” wasn’t the right word—the visitor had boldly appeared before the castle guards, openly declared her identity, and cooperated fully as she was escorted into the hall.

A tall woman with long black hair, dressed in an elegant black maid’s uniform, was brought before Gawain. He was certain he had never seen her anywhere before, yet he knew that anyone appearing at such a critical moment was no ordinary person—even if she looked like just a palace servant.

“She suddenly showed up in front of the guards, claiming to be sent by Rosetta Augustus to see you,” Amber reported from the side. “She apparently crossed the entire blockade on foot…”

Gawain nodded and turned to the black-haired woman. “What’s your name?”

“Diana. I serve the Augustus family as a maid,” the woman replied, her gaze calm and steady. “My mistress sent me to see you.”

For someone claiming to be a mere “maid,” her composed and relaxed demeanor was unusually poised, sparking Gawain’s curiosity. But what intrigued him more was the mission she carried. “What did Rosetta send you here to do?”

“Nothing,” Diana said quietly. “My mistress instructed me only to appear before you. What happens next is for you to decide.”

“Nothing…” Gawain’s pupils contracted slightly. He seemed to understand something, but then frowned and stared at her. “So, you’re the ‘signal’ Rosetta Augustus sent me… But this is too risky. Even if you do nothing, this signal is far too dangerous…”

“It’s alright,” Diana said calmly, shaking her head. “As long as I don’t say anything unnecessary, I won’t attract the attention of the gods—because I have no heart.”

“No heart?” Gawain looked at her in puzzlement, about to ask more, when a deep, distant rumble suddenly echoed from the eastern sky—like thunder rolling through far-off clouds. The sound cut off his words and drew everyone’s attention. Officers near the windows instinctively looked up toward the source of the noise. Then, the terrifying spectacle unfolding over Winterhold revealed itself to all.

Beams of light pierced the dimness brought by the blizzard. Under the eerie starry sky, centered on Winterhold’s main peak, more than a dozen mountain summits erupted with towering pillars of magical flame that seemed to pierce the heavens. The immense magical power tore apart the gathered clouds, stirring the edges of the storm, and unleashed widespread lightning in the high sky. At the feet of those peaks, across the vast plains and hills, a colossal “web” of magical ley lines began to glow, thread by thread.

Amber gazed at the radiant network from afar. Finally, she discerned its pattern—it was the Typhon’ encampments along the defensive line! The massive network was formed by the connection of tens of thousands of supernaturals stationed there!

Her eyes widened, and she abruptly turned to tell Gawain her discovery. But before she could speak, a sudden, intense flash erupted from the distance: among the dozen glowing peaks, one beam suddenly doubled in size. A dazzling orb of light rose from that mountain, shooting swiftly upward along the beam. After a brief delay, the orb pierced through the shredded clouds and plunged almost vertically toward the storm raging in the center of the plains—the very place where the War God had descended!

Thanks to his supernatural vision, Gawain saw the scene more clearly than others. He watched the orb ascend, then fall toward the storm, and finally explode midair, tearing apart the blizzard’s veil. A blinding cascade of light washed over the land. After a moment of stunned silence, he finally recognized what it was.

“That’s… the Wound of Annihilation?!!”

He spun toward the woman who called herself Diana. She met his gaze calmly.

“Yes, the Wound of Annihilation—we spent many years restoring this ancient magic.”

“Do you really think you can kill a god with just one shot of the Wound of Annihilation?!” Gawain was taken aback, his voice tinged with disbelief. He instinctively glanced back toward the distance. As expected, from the dissipating storm and fading light, a towering figure was slowly emerging.

Diana’s voice came from behind him, measured and unhurried. “Obviously, that’s not enough.”

…

The surging white explosion swept through the air like a flood, rapidly tearing and neutralizing the blizzard’s miracle, creating a vast void. The Wound of Annihilation unleashed a terrifying shriek across the plains. After a brief delay, a mushroom cloud soared upward—rocks instantly vaporized, hurricanes blew away distant soil and snow, and a visible spherical shockwave radiated outward from the War God’s landing site.

Yet as the shockwave’s curtain gradually faded, the towering figure reappeared before everyone, still standing firm like a mountain.

An invisible gale swept across the plains. The armored giant stood silently in the crater carved by the Wound of Annihilation, a layer of iron-gray light shimmering over him. Beneath the glow, the armor bore not a single scratch.

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked toward the direction of the “annoying insects.”

Beneath the hollow helmet, there was no flesh—only a chaotic, maddened light flickering deep within an unknown mass. In that light, all reason and mercy had long since vanished.

He turned toward the Typhon’ encampments. After a brief second’s pause, he began to stride toward Winterhold’s main peak. With each heavy step, the earth trembled, and the magical energy in the air boiled like fire. Many insect-like beasts hiding deep underground, lucky enough to survive the Wound of Annihilation, were driven by overwhelming terror to flee their nests. But as soon as they surfaced, their life force was scorched away, leaving behind twisted, horrific flesh and blood remains. Vast swaths of plants bent and withered in the wind—though distant enough to avoid the magical flood, they quickly died under the oppressive aura of the mad god.

Rosetta Augustus stood before the illusionary wall in the Arcane Hall, the terrifying scene clearly displayed. The iron-gray armored giant marched forward like a cold war machine toward Winterhold. Death was the banner and army behind him; wherever his footsteps fell, flames ignited from thin air, and all life was swiftly reaped.

Nearby, a communication crystal flickered as the voice of a mage sentinel came through: “First attack failed! Visual confirmation: target undamaged! Target advancing toward our lines!”

Rosetta’s expression remained unchanged. “Continue. Second shot.”

As his words fell, a white beam suddenly expanded over another mountain near Winterhold. Another massive orb rose from the summit’s magic array. After a brief delay, it fell again from the sky, and the iron-gray giant was once more engulfed in the blast’s shockwave and mushroom cloud.

Meanwhile, across the vast Winterhold region, among the camps and outposts pulsing with magical energy, a piercing shriek suddenly rang out above one mage regiment’s camp. The surge of magical turbulence battered the camp’s defenses. Once powerful and precise, the protective devices were no match for this ancient Gondor magic. The surge instantly shattered the camp’s barrier, and countless sparks swept over the entire garrison like a tidal wave.

Hundreds of low-level mages and their knightly guards fell one after another—some collapsing into deep unconsciousness from magical exhaustion, others killed outright.

The magical network covering Winterhold’s defenses dimmed abruptly in one sector. Ahead of the line, the mushroom cloud from the Wound of Annihilation’s explosion rapidly dissipated.

The mountain-sized giant emerged unhurriedly, stepping heavily forward, inching closer to the mortal defenses.

Several griffon scouts took to the air, attempting to circle and observe the giant. But two riders accidentally flew too close—perhaps the pervasive oppressive aura shattered the spirits of the poor griffons. They and their riders suddenly lost control, hurtling uncontrollably toward the giant, crashing into his iron-gray armor like insects smashing against a bell tower.

The seemingly metallic armor rippled like waves. The two griffon riders and their mounts melted into the armor as if dissolving, leaving only rust-like spots behind.

Within half a second, even those spots vanished completely.

The sentinel’s voice came again from the crystal: “Second attack failed. Target undamaged! Continuing approach toward our defenses!”

Rosetta calmly watched the projection on the illusion wall. “Proceed.”

The third orb rose. Correspondingly, another camp along the defense line suddenly plunged into darkness.

The massive mushroom cloud rose again, blotting out the sky. The giant’s silhouette was once more shrouded in the heavy veil. Yet the heavy footsteps echoed again from within the explosion cloud—the earth still trembling. The iron-gray colossus strode out proudly!

Parin Winterhold stood atop the mage tower, watching the approaching giant through another monitoring device. The learned and brave battle mage leader felt his heart pounding wildly. He had never experienced such intense tension, fear, and even despair as today. Even without the mental corruption from the gods, the immense pressure made him feel suffocated. He clenched his fists tightly, realizing his palms were drenched in sweat.

Three Wounds of Annihilation! Three! Even the strongest human fortress could not survive such relentless magical bombardment unscathed. Yet that giant… he hadn’t slowed his pace one bit!

Parlin Winterburg knew exactly what the Annihilation Spear was. As a seasoned high-level mage, nearly a third of his life had been spent dealing with ancient forbidden arts of this kind—terrifying powers dating back to the old Gondor era. Back then, only the magic of the Deep Blue Well could sustain such forces in this world. But now, the mages of Typhon had found a way to bring it back through unique group casting techniques and an immense supply of mana.

Every time the Annihilation Spear was unleashed, it came at a tremendous cost. Hundreds, sometimes thousands, of gifted individuals would be drained dry; priceless crystals and gems reduced to dust; and often, many lives lost. It was hardly a “cost-effective” weapon. When it was first perfected, many mages were disappointed, doubting its practical use in battle. Yet now, it had been deployed for a mission that had to be completed no matter the price. But… could it really succeed?

A nervous swallow sounded nearby. Winterburg recognized it as the involuntary noise of a tense mage officer. Yet he had no mind to reprimand. His gaze was fixed, unblinking, on the magical projection before him—on the towering figure of the giant.

Suddenly, his eyes caught something on the giant’s shoulder armor, near the arm—a faint black mark on the surface of the plate. At first, Winterburg thought it was just a smudge, but then realization struck him: how could a god have dirt on their armor?

It was a crack. A real, unmistakable crack.

The god’s protection could be pierced.

Winterburg’s breath hitched sharply. Nearby, the mage assigned to observation and reporting stepped forward to the communication crystal, voice tight with tension: “The third… third attack was ineffective. The target remains unscathed—”

“The attack was effective!” Winterburg burst forward like a gale, nearly knocking the reporting mage aside. “Your Majesty, the third attack was effective! There’s a crack in the target’s armor—their defense can be breached!”

He reported with excitement. On the other side of the crystal, there was a brief silence—just a second—before a calm voice replied, “Continue.”

…

The images on the illusion wall flickered under magical interference. Moments later, the disturbance cleared, and the giant resumed its relentless advance before Rosetta Augustus.

Beneath the giant’s feet, the “scars of war”—a wasteland of death, blood, and flame—had already spread to the edge of Winterburg’s defensive line.

But the giant was not unscathed. The armor bore a faint but undeniable crack. Though subtle, it was there.

Rosetta narrowed her eyes slightly.

Today was the New Year Festival.

Today, the god was not invincible.

Then, suddenly, a voice echoed out of nowhere, disturbingly out of place: “Looks like you’re making some progress… but it seems your ‘best cards’ aren’t enough to stop Him from completely tearing through your defenses.”

A shimmering starry light swirled in the arcane hall, and a hollow eye floated in midair, fixed on Rosetta.

“What was that spell you used again…? Hmm, it does have some power, but it’s still not quite enough. Relying on these setups alone to destroy a god—isn’t that a bit optimistic?

“Also, is this giant-form god really a war god? Doesn’t quite match the one I remember…”

“Has His image been twisted by madness? How tragic. Madness is such a pitiful fate…”

Rosetta Augustus seemed not to hear the eye’s rambling whispers beside her ear. She calmly watched the magical projection, then lifted her gaze to glance at the western sky.

“The fourth attack was effective, Your Majesty. The target continues to take damage but shows no signs of weakening—He’s approaching the first line of defense!”

Rosetta withdrew her gaze and looked back at the magical illusion projected on the wall.

“Continue.”

(End of chapter)