Chapter 1023: Unbreached

Above the Winter Fortress cluster, shrouded beneath a strange starry sky, several gray-painted dragonrider aircraft cruised slowly under the cover of night. Dim glimmers of runes flickered faintly at various points on the ships, blending seamlessly with the stars in the background, rendering this reconnaissance squad almost ghostlike—undetectable as they prowled through the darkness.

One of the aircraft cautiously lowered its altitude. The crystal device mounted beneath its side shimmered softly. Precisely calibrated mechanical instruments pointed toward the distant land below, the crystal’s surface reflecting the searing battlefield far away.

An iron-gray colossus was trampling the last defensive line at the mountain’s base. Its massive, awe-inspiring frame was scarred and battered, with rust-colored mist billowing from the gaps in its armor. This cloud of iron-like fog intertwined with the flowing lava on the ground and the chaotic magical currents in the air, forming a vast cloak-like structure trailing behind the giant. Wherever it passed, the earth turned to scorched wasteland.

The aerial reconnaissance footage was transmitted through high-powered arcane network hubs stationed at the battlefield’s edge, relayed via temporary ground nodes to the rear lines, and finally displayed before Gawain.

Inside Winterwolf Fortress’s command center, Gawain stood alongside other commanders before a large tactical table and a magical network projection. The distant sounds from the battlefield crackled with distortion and static: “…The War God has sustained severe injuries… yet it is not enough to halt its advance. Typhon’s ground forces have suffered heavy losses and have broken through to Winter Fortress’s final defense line. Our own ground troops have been affected, but the main units remain intact.”

“Looks like the War God really has been enraged by the Typhons…” Gawain murmured, staring at the furious, terrifying giant on the screen. “Even as a mad god, it still shows clear emotions—‘anger’ of all things…”

“Why isn’t it attacking Winter Fortress itself?” Amber frowned. “It’s destroyed so much along the way, nothing seems able to withstand its frontal assault. The fortress’s defenses should be formidable, but the War God doesn’t seem intent on a direct attack.”

“That means there’s something inside Winter Fortress that’s more attractive to it—something that even in its madness, the god clings to a shred of reason for,” Gawain said gravely, glancing sideways at Lady Diana standing quietly nearby. The woman who claimed to have “no heart” had been silently watching since earlier, like a statue. Clearly, she had no interest in revealing more secrets about her master to these Cecil men.

Gawain had no intention of prying further from Diana. Besides, even if she remained silent, he could guess what inside Winter Fortress was drawing that crazed War God.

The eerie starry sky enveloping the entire Winter Fortress region, and the faint, peculiar aura emanating from its depths, were impossible to hide. A mere glance was enough for Gawain to recognize it as something related to divine power—the War God was clearly heading toward the source of that divine energy. Among the Typhon faction, the only thing directly connected to divine power, manifesting through the starry sky and intricately linked to the Augustus family, was one thing alone.

The “Curse of the Eye of God,” a two-century-old legacy dating back to ancient times.

“Rosetta… I hope you know what you’re doing…” Gawain sighed softly, as if speaking to himself. “I’m not prepared to deal with two out-of-control gods at once…”

At that moment, the distant surveillance screen flashed white. A massive mushroom cloud rose again. The beam of light above one of the Winter Fortress peaks suddenly brightened many times over. The iron-gray giant caught in the explosion bore even more wounds—yet it emerged once more from the flowing lava and surging magical chaos. The cloak behind it seemed even larger now.

The runaway god had shattered the last barrier before it—it was beginning to climb the tallest mountain.

Almost simultaneously, the forward reconnaissance unit’s alarm blared: “Warning! Target is climbing Winter Fortress’s main peak! Repeat, target is climbing the main peak—Typhon’s defenses are about to be completely breached!”

Gawain furrowed his brow tightly. After a moment, he snapped his head toward Philip. “When will the ‘Requiem’ squad arrive? Where is the ‘Winter’s Edge’?”

“The Requiem squad is already on standby at the battlefield’s edge,” Philip replied rapidly. “But they need a relatively stable ‘work environment.’ Hopefully, the Typhons will further weaken the War God’s strength; otherwise, our air units can barely get close. As for the Winter’s Edge…”

Before he could finish, a sharp whistling sound suddenly pierced the surveillance feed. Everyone instinctively turned toward the magical projection, just in time to see the iron-gray giant raise its arm. A massive arrow shot down, striking a mountain closest to Winter Fortress’s main peak. A colossal explosion, visible even from Winterwolf Fortress, engulfed the entire mountaintop in a blazing fireball. The magical flame pillar rising from that mountain was extinguished almost simultaneously.

By now, most of the enormous beams of light surrounding the Winter Fortress cluster had been snuffed out. Only a few remaining rays pierced the darkness like the last flickers of mortal courage, stubbornly standing against the starry night.

Everyone fell silent, their gazes fixed on those flickering pillars of light. The few remaining beams seemed fragile, on the verge of being swallowed by darkness…

…

Unconsciously, all fell into silence, watching the last beams of light on the distant peaks. Parin Winterwolf had unconsciously clenched his jaw, his pale face etched with a chill as biting as winter itself.

Each beam’s extinguishing meant a heavy toll in lives. The empire’s finest battle mages and commanders had perished in those earth-shattering explosions—friends, rivals, classmates from the Royal Mage Association, promising young talents he had personally mentored.

Now, those lights were going out one by one. The few still shining continued their mission—to rain as many annihilating strikes as possible upon the raging mad god’s head.

Each attack risked drawing the god’s attention, and death could come in an instant. At this moment, the courage required to carry out orders surpassed all imagination.

The giant had begun climbing the ridge of Winter Fortress’s main peak—like the giant king Protodal from northern native myths scaling the world’s pillar, ascending the only path to the summit. For Parin, Rosetta, and the royal mages and knight lords holding the fortress, even without the magical illusions relayed by the Mage’s Eye, standing on the western balcony and looking down revealed a heart-stopping sight.

The iron-gray giant was advancing step by step toward the fortress perched atop the mountain, unwavering, bloodless, tearless.

Parin silently calculated the giant’s pace, the distance from the foot to the fortress, and how much time remained before the “monster” would break through the last line of defense built by the combined might of Typhon… How many more attacks could the brave battle mages launch in that time? How many more annihilating strikes could the Winter Fortress cluster deliver onto the enemy’s head? Two? Three?

He instinctively glanced at the communication crystal nearby. His Majesty the Emperor had ceased issuing specific commands after the last order half an hour ago: “Maintain maximum firepower.” Since then, instructions from the Arcane Hall had been silent. Now, even the Count of Winterwolf was anxiously awaiting new orders through the crystal.

That order might decide everyone’s fate.

He didn’t know how long he waited—time felt like a century. The lights on nearby peaks flickered twice more. The giant’s footsteps seemed to echo in everyone’s hearts. Then, finally, the crystal crackled to life with Rosetta Augustus’s voice: “…The time is ripe. Prepare for the final assault.”

The Count of Winterwolf was momentarily stunned, almost thinking he’d imagined it. But in the next instant, a fierce fighting spirit ignited within him. “Everyone, get ready! Final assault!”

…

“Now, fulfill your promise,” Rosetta Augustus said quietly in the Arcane Hall, eyes fixed on the hollow eye floating nearby. “The target has been weakened to its limit—trap it, and we will deliver the finishing blow.”

The hollow eye shifted slightly, as if gazing at Rosetta. After a few seconds, it sighed slowly: “Ah, to be honest, I do miss the days with you all… Though it may not have been pleasant for you, for me, it was a rare respite from the endless boredom of eternal life…

“Oh, oh, of course, no need to rush. I will keep my promise. I’ve already shielded you from the god’s mental corruption, disrupted its judgment, and now creating the opportunity for your final strike is no trouble at all… Consider this my parting reflection, Rosetta Augustus… You and your ancestors are quite interesting.”

As the hollow eye’s last word faded, the boundless starlight filling the Arcane Hall suddenly began to contract and tremble!

Not only the starlight within the hall, but the entire starry sky enveloping Winter Fortress visibly changed at the same moment!

In the night, those stars not belonging to this era seemed to come alive, flickering wildly. Countless threads and arcs of light spread between the stars, rippling across the strange sky like waves. The scene was like a nightmare descending, or a phantasm beyond human imagination—after a brief delay of a few seconds, the starry sky covering the region violently contracted, then began to shatter and vanish rapidly from the edges toward the center!

The starry sky that had once suppressed the war god’s spiritual corruption shattered—but the effect of that suppression and protection did not end there. The power of the Eye of God transformed into another form: as the countless stars rapidly dissolved across the heavens, an endless cascade of starlight seemed to descend from the sky itself, layering over the giant who was climbing the mountain!

This was the second miraculous spectacle to unfold today in the Winterburg region. The stars that had blanketed the sky suddenly shifted to the earth below, defying all geometric logic, optical theory, and even the limits of human sight and understanding. They transformed into shackles and chains—iron-gray bindings. The giant raised his right hand high; he had already reached the final slope outside Winterburg’s main city walls. The mortal fortress stood just ahead, battered by the cold wind. Yet, in an instant, those celestial shackles locked down every movement of the giant, forcibly stretching his limbs apart with a power beyond human comprehension—so overwhelming that even a god could not resist it for long—leaving him completely defenseless.

A voice roared across the land: “Strike now, Augustus! The imprisonment within the dream won’t last much longer!”

Almost simultaneously, the Typhonian’s final blow arrived.

On the four towering peaks near Winterburg’s summit, the remaining beams of light flared one last time. Accompanied by a sudden overload of all magical ley lines in the region, a surge of potent magic—unseen on this continent since the end of the Gondor era—returned to the world. This overwhelming power was channeled through a network of magical nodes into every still-functioning “Annihilation Camp.” After a brief accumulation, the remaining beams simultaneously burst forth with dazzling brilliance, and four massive, radiant white spheres soared into the sky—

Multiple Annihilation Blasts.

No frills, no theatrics—just raw, compounded power, as straightforward and brutal as the war god depicted in ancient myths.

With the target already battered repeatedly, defenses nearly shattered, and the body bound by the Eye of God, this terrifying strike was destined to be decisive.

Parin Winterburg no longer paid attention to the visions transmitted by the Mage’s Eye. He strode directly onto the balcony on the tower’s west side, eyes fixed on the castle’s exterior. The blinding spheres, the combined Annihilation Blasts, were already falling from the sky. The iron-gray giant remained tightly bound by the starlight, limbs thrashing desperately. His massive form flickered between solid and ethereal states. Clearly, even a god driven mad could sense a mortal threat at this moment.

The Annihilation Blasts struck.

But in that instant, a chilling sight froze Parin Winterburg’s blood cold:

The iron-gray giant suddenly broke free from the starlight shackles. His shifting between solid and phantom forms abruptly ceased. It was as if he had broken free from a nightmare’s grip, and just before the Annihilation Blasts hit, he violently dodged to the side.

The enormous spheres slammed into the ground, sending a mushroom cloud larger than any before billowing up along the mountain path west of Winterburg. A quarter of the castle was reduced to ash and dust by the blast. The giant who had broken free was swallowed whole by the shockwave at the explosion’s edge.

Yet Parin Winterburg knew—and so did Rosetta Augustus in the Arcane Hall—that the target had escaped the blast’s core. He had survived.

“Again,” Rosetta ordered immediately. “Trap him!”

Once more, pinpricks of starlight appeared in Winterburg’s sky. The Eye of God’s true form reappeared before Rosetta, but this time, it showed no intention of using its own power.

“Descendant of the Augustus family…” The hollow eye emitted a sound almost like a sneer, laced with mockery. “You’ve misunderstood one thing…

I have already fulfilled my promise.”

(End of chapter)