Chapter 1273: The Frontline

Amon stared in surprise as Mylmina rose from the towering stone “throne.” Her eyes, like molten crystal, flickered with a trace of confusion. “Why did you recall your avatar early? Did something go wrong with the exploration over there?”

“No… the exploration is still ongoing. I returned ahead of schedule,” Mylmina said, standing like a lighthouse in the rebellious courtyard. Her mist-like skirt shimmered with countless magical runes that flickered and overlapped. But unlike before, these runes now appeared as ghostly afterimages, their hazy edges radiating layer upon layer of illusions. The “Master of Magic” glanced sideways at the sacred giant stag beside her and gently rubbed her forehead. “There was a complication. I need to recalibrate myself…”

“Something happened?! Are you alright?” Amon’s voice tightened with concern. “Did something from the War God’s realm affect you?”

“It has nothing to do with the War God’s domain,” Mylmina replied as she stepped down from the dais. The rune bindings that had suppressed and isolated her mind from corruption silently dissolved into specks of stardust drifting away. “We completed an experiment. During it, we confirmed the fluctuating nature of magical energy.”

“…The fluctuating nature of magic energy…” Amon hesitated for half a second, then nodded slightly. “So you’re saying…”

Mylmina glanced at him silently, hesitating for a few seconds before sighing, “With your intellect, it’s hard for me to explain it clearly…”

Amon was speechless.

He wanted to scold her for such a condescending remark, but he suspected she was right. If the “Master of Mysteries” started throwing tons of theoretical jargon at him, a god of nature like himself would surely be overwhelmed—and end up embarrassed.

Accepting that Mylmina wasn’t going to elaborate, Amon shrugged it off. He shook his head to clear it, relieved that this uninvited guest looked only a bit weary and otherwise fine. As he headed toward his usual spot to relax and browse the net, he said, “Since you’re done early, I’ll get some rest too. Leave the equipment here. The technicians said we don’t need to worry about it for now… If we ever want to send an avatar ‘out’ for a breath of fresh air, these devices will come in handy.”

Mylmina stood silently before the dais, not elaborating on the magical fluctuation experiment. But just as Amon was about to turn away, she couldn’t help but speak again.

“Amon, have you ever wondered about the world around us? Curious about what lies beneath the surface of reality… the explanations behind it all?”

“You mean curiosity?” Amon stopped and turned his head toward her. “Of course I’m curious. Every sentient being is. Though what I’m curious about might differ from you. You’re fascinated by the mysteries of magic and elemental order; I’m more interested in the cycles of life and evolution. But at our core, we all seek explanations for the world’s workings… Even the most rigid War God, I believe, has had his own curiosities.”

He paused, locking eyes with Mylmina. “Why do you ask all of a sudden?”

“I’ve been thinking about how this world we live in actually exists and operates… How seemingly unrelated things coordinate to coexist in this dimension. The boundary between magic and matter seems clear but is actually blurred. The mind’s power can influence the physical world… Behind these phenomena everyone takes for granted, could there be a unified, self-consistent explanation?” Mylmina’s voice trembled slightly, as if touched by a profound reverence. “Amon, is the world’s current state inevitable or accidental? Or is it just a fleeting moment within some grander evolutionary system?”

Amon blinked, still processing her words. “…Huh?”

But Mylmina seemed lost in a whirlpool of thought, her mind drifting uncontrollably. “Maybe we’re like tiny insects living on a vast pond, drifting unknowingly on the surface. Our lives are but a moment. A gust of wind stirs ripples across the water, and in that instant, we think we’ve glimpsed the universe’s truth—that it’s just a surface covered in waves. But the wind soon dies down, the ripples fade, and our limited lifespan and understanding will never grasp the whole picture…”

Amon stopped completely, turning back to face her. His radiant eyes studied her for a long moment. Honestly, with his intellect, he wasn’t sure he fully understood what she was saying.

But soon, the god of nature shook his head lightly. Though he didn’t grasp the deeper meaning of her vision, he sensed why she was so moved. Lowering his head slightly, he spoke seriously, “You glimpsed some truth in that experiment, but it doesn’t fit your ‘common sense.’ So you’re doubting your understanding of the world—or maybe doubting the world itself?”

Mylmina’s expression froze, surprised that Amon had seen through her state so directly. Then she laughed bitterly. “…That’s hardly the kind of thought a ‘god’ should have, right?”

“But it’s a feeling mortals often experience—whenever they advance on their path of discovery, whenever they encounter something new, whenever their civilization takes a step forward… Fragile mortals are used to the vastness of the world and the surprises each step brings. It’s us so-called ‘gods’ who get flustered when faced with new truths. But… Mylmina, your current state is actually a good thing.”

“A good thing?”

“You’ve encountered something beyond your cognition, and it sounds like it’s shaken your understanding to the core. Now you’re back, full of curiosity and doubt, able to share these feelings with me. Think about the War God, who went mad during the ‘trade war,’ or the dragons’ gods who lost control… You’re clear-headed now. Didn’t you notice that?”

Mylmina’s eyes widened slightly, as if awakening from a dream. After a moment, a smile slowly spread across her face.

She looked at Amon, recalling the strange visions and speculations she’d had moments ago. She imagined, sketching out a higher-dimensional perspective—one where she could see another “form” of her old friend. She saw this being called “Amon,” composed of countless constants and variables, rippling with overlapping waves, floating amid the omnipresent cosmic background radiation.

…

Filna gazed up at the heavy, polluted clouds blocking the sun. The faint sunlight struggled to pierce through the thick layer, casting a dim, dusk-like veil across the sky. As the clouds shifted, she quietly broke the silence. “The wind direction up high has changed again…”

“Yes, ‘again.’ The atmosphere, twisted by magical energy, is always unpredictable,” came Laelna’s calm voice from beside her. “But no matter how it changes, this wasteland remains the same.”

“Just like this pitiful world… The wind shifts, life cycles endlessly, yet it’s forever trapped in these brief loops, unable to break free. Gravity is the planet’s ‘grand wall,’ beyond which lies the starry sky mortals are unworthy to touch…”

The two elven sisters, nearly identical in appearance, spoke like opera singers atop a massive stone. Behind them, on the open ground, a huge spatial rift shimmered like a mirrored vortex, gradually stabilizing.

The rift glowed with dazzling azure light. Streams of energy raced through the vast space within, some spilling out to stir the nearby air, creating a whistle-like wind around the portal.

Two grotesque giant mutants, their bodies coated in oozing flesh and mud, stomped heavily toward the dangerous-looking rift. One after the other, they carried massive, intricately carved rune stones. Faint magical glimmers on the stones were slowly awakening.

Once the rune stones were cast into the rift, an automatic guidance mechanism propelled them swiftly toward one of the blue energy streams. The devices silently merged into the surging magical currents. Then, a treant priest who had been watching from a nearby hillside descended, exhaling in relief. “Alright, we’ve secured another node… Elders, we’re one step closer to success.”

Filna nodded slightly, offering a sweet smile to the approaching treant priest. “Yes, thank you for your hard work.”

Laelna remained silent, raising her right hand slightly. Pale blue phantom lights formed above her palm, projecting a clear magical map. Intersecting, vein-like channels appeared, some glowing brighter as if deliberately highlighted.

These streams extended farther than the others, branching out more extensively. Their ends intertwined, faintly gathering into a spherical shape.

“Yes, we’re closer to success,” Laelna whispered with a smile. “This endless, meaningless cycle that’s lasted generations… is finally gaining meaning.”

…

The train’s loud whistle echoed throughout the entire base, carrying far across the open plains. Bruce Rockforge, the master architect of dwarven descent, climbed a tower near the southern city wall. He gazed out for a moment, then nodded slightly. “We’ve established a foothold here. Not bad at all.”

On either side of the tower, a sturdy wall of reinforced concrete and steel stretched east and west. The outer layer was armored with strengthened steel plating. Shield generators embedded within the walls projected a translucent energy barrier, further blocking the dangerous roaming creatures of the plains. Atop the walls stood fixed fortress cannons and mobile rails along which movable turrets could swiftly reposition.

Inside the walls were neat barracks, warehouses, and at the center, the “frontline command post.”

A straight charging rail stretched out from the direction of the Black Forest to the north. Along both sides of the track stood neatly arranged relay pylons, while a translucent shield barrier hovered above the rails. It resembled a metallic artery, linking the rear base to the forward outpost, tightly connecting this stronghold at the foot of the Grant Wall with the imperial heartland far beyond the Dark Mountains.

The heavily armored train, the “Iron Throne—General Winter,” had just completed its test run. Now it rested steadily beside the armed platform on the base’s eastern side. This newly forged war machine hissed with venting steam, its power runes dimming gradually across the hull. Four massive magocrystal railguns—two at the front and two at the rear—along with four large iridescent generators, were undergoing inspection by the technical sergeants. The train looked imposing and formidable.

Bruce Rockstone stared at the magnificent armored train for a long while, his eyes filled with admiration and appreciation. Though he was not a “war engineer” capable of building such a machine, he believed no sane craftsman could resist the overwhelming allure of this “destructive work of art.”

He craved the war machine’s body—the repulsion engines, every main cannon, every cold, unyielding armor plate. He was honest about that.

But in the end, the master architect forced himself to look away, redirecting his gaze toward the Grant Wall.

From here, the energy barrier, built seven centuries ago by the Silver Empire and humanity together, was no longer a distant sight.

It stood less than a thousand meters south of this frontline base. Given its immense scale, it seemed almost right before Bruce’s eyes. The thick, astonishingly dense energy shield flowed and shimmered like an endless curtain of water, slowly drifting in front of the architect. Beyond that shimmering veil lay the desolate, corrupted wasteland.

The towering Sentinel Tower rose at the base’s southeast corner. The sunlight hit it at just the right angle, casting a long shadow that stretched across the base. Anyone inside only had to look up to see the majestic ancient tower standing tall in their view. The giant floating “stone tablet” gleamed brilliantly in the daylight.

As Bruce Rockstone gazed toward the ruins of Gondor, planning the next steps to establish a forward base inside the Grant Wall, another master architect, Gordon, arrived at the armed platform. He was there to welcome the Empire’s First Legion, which had just arrived aboard the armored train.

On the platform, Gordon met the legion’s commanders—Marshal Philip, whose golden hair and demeanor now seemed far more composed and restrained than in years past; beside him stood Payne, his bronze-skinned young adjutant; and behind them was a young man with short silver hair, whose humble and courteous bearing set him apart.

(End of chapter)