Chapter 1307: The Wasteland—Total War

Strictly speaking, this was a war both sides had long prepared for, yet neither had done so thoroughly. Its outbreak came completely out of everyone’s expectations—nothing went according to plan, none of the participants’ blueprints held true. Everything happened suddenly, and the frontline soldiers’ ability to respond became the deciding factor. The entire situation spiraled out of control, with chaos itself becoming the only constant.

Communications with the Silver Empire had been severed. The status of the Elven Alliance was unknown. The Grant Wall and the Sentinel Towers had clearly fallen into a fatal malfunction. The barrier that had protected the civilized world for seven centuries was rapidly crumbling and disappearing. Meanwhile, the number of monsters lurking and gathering deep within the wasteland inside the walls far exceeded theoretical limits. Their ferocity in attack and the faint but unmistakable signs of “discipline” were shocking. The vanguard units originally assigned to push forward at the barrier were forced to switch to defense, becoming immovable rocks plugging the ever-widening breach in the Grant Wall. The sudden shift stunned even the most experienced commanders and battle-hardened veterans.

As for the Aberration Legions assaulting the northern defenses, the scene they had imagined—“mortal armies scrambling in panic, the careless barrier guards breaking at the first touch, the Aberration tide sweeping through the civilized lands like a wrecking wave”—did not come to pass. The humans outside the wall did not scatter in haste. Instead, it was as if they had long anticipated this, setting up ironclad defenses. Armored war machines moved like mobile walls, and heavy artillery positions began roaring well beyond visual range. The reckless legions were engulfed in a rain of fire on their approach, massive explosions sending corrupted limbs and chunks of earth and rock flying skyward. The dark druidic priests commanding the legions’ rear were equally stunned.

Both sides were caught off guard. The first—and perhaps the greatest—consensus reached in this war was: What the hell is this enemy?!

A low, rumbling hum cut across the sky as the shadows of dragonrider fighters skimmed beneath the oppressive cloud base. These anti-gravity aircraft, with inverted cone-shaped hulls, swooped and spiraled like swallows over the Aberration tide. They dropped their heavy bombs and incendiaries in volleys, explosions and flames splashing through the enemy ranks like waves. Meanwhile, arcs of black-and-red electricity rose from the ground, sweeping across the bombers’ return paths. Two aircraft were hit midair, exploding and breaking apart, but most completed their bombing runs and sped back to the forward base on the southern edge of the ribbon plains.

As the flight units returned, clearer intelligence reached the base commanders.

“Aberrations are everywhere, almost like the mud flowing across the land,” a dark-skinned adjutant standing beside Philip spoke rapidly, the holographic projection showing live images from the frontline. “They used to roam only near the breach points or even farther out, but after the Grant Wall started failing, it’s like they suddenly got a signal. They’re surging in waves—precisely targeting the barrier’s weak spots.”

“How many? How many more are coming?” Philip asked swiftly.

“Impossible to count. More monsters from deeper in the wasteland keep gathering and joining the tide,” the adjutant said grimly, shaking his head. “Wherever this tide passes, mindless Aberrations immediately ‘answer the call.’ It’s unquantifiable. Plus, some of these creatures have anti-air capabilities—their electric arcs and energy beams can hit our dragonriders, seriously disrupting reconnaissance.”

Philip furrowed his brow, quickly analyzing the report for clues. After two seconds, he spoke in a low voice: “There must be some kind of ‘command system’ among them, like the Crystal Cluster Legions before. It’s probably embedded somewhere within their main forces—maybe pheromones, maybe neural impulses… They can make nearby mindless Aberrations obey orders.”

He suddenly looked up at his adjutant. “Find the enemy’s most heavily defended or energy-rich areas. Concentrate fire to eliminate those units. If there are too many and our fire can’t reach them, then increase the offensive. The Winter General has completed main cannon calibration. Inform the frontline: their fire support will arrive within ten minutes.”

“Yes, General!”

The adjutant acknowledged and quickly relayed the orders. The entire First Legion’s command system kicked into high gear. Orders streamed out from the command center to the frontline, and frontline soldiers’ firsthand intelligence was rapidly transmitted via communication stations across the ribbon plains to the high command at the forward base.

Philip and senior commanders like Leight stood before a broad tactical platform. Several holographic crystals projected various scenes, the largest showing a sand table of the entire region under First Legion control. Translucent plains and hills were marked with vivid colors indicating combat zones. The blue blocks representing the First Legion remained firmly rooted at the foot of the Grant Wall, while the black-and-red tide of enemy forces surged wave after wave toward the breach. The tide was constantly being whittled down, and the blue blocks occasionally receded and then filled in again. On the surface, the overall balance of offense and defense held.

But Philip knew this balance wouldn’t last.

On the hologram, the pale green translucent outlines of the Grant Wall and Sentinel Towers were fading. Along the line held by the Cecil Legion, the Elven barrier had developed a breach large enough to swallow half a city—and it was still growing.

Though the First Legion was strong and the Winter General’s main cannon sharp, their firepower only covered their immediate range. If the Grant Wall continued to collapse like this, the breach would soon become impossible to seal—especially in the treacherous areas beyond surveillance. Humans couldn’t hold ground in those places, but Aberration monsters didn’t care if it was mud or toxic marsh.

And this wasn’t even the worst scenario Philip could imagine.

The young imperial commander’s brow tightened as he stared at the hologram. What came to mind was the entire Gondor Wasteland.

The collapse was likely not limited to the Cecil line. Communications with the Silver Empire had been cut off, indicating a major failure at the highest control center of the Grant Wall. The worst possibility was that the entire barrier surrounding the wasteland was disappearing.

The whole civilized world was rapidly being exposed to the wasteland!

Philip wasn’t the only one thinking this. Standing beside him, the tall Leight also frowned deeply. The Light’s champion spoke in a low voice: “We can’t reach the Silver Empire now, and communications with Typhon’s side are heavily disrupted. I suspect the barrier’s failure is widespread—maybe even a total collapse. There could be massive breaches all around the wasteland.”

“…Honestly, I’m not too worried about our side,” Philip said grimly, nodding. “We still have many reserves and backup forces here. I’m not too concerned about the Typhon people either—they can hold. My biggest worry is the Silver Empire. They control the Grant Wall’s command system, and clearly, something’s gone wrong over there.”

Before he finished, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door. A messenger burst into the command hall.

“Report, sir!” The messenger, flushed from running, saluted Philip and spoke rapidly. “We’ve restored communications with the Typhon camp!”

“Communications restored?” Philip’s face brightened. “What’s their situation?”

“Worse than ours,” the messenger swallowed hard. “Half their frontal barrier has already gone dark. Huge numbers of monsters are pouring in from hills and valleys, including many giant mutated Aberrations. The only good news is their terrain is more complex. A ridge faces the monsters at the breach, and the Typhon forces hold the high ground, relying on their mage corps to eliminate enemies in the lowlands. But once the mages run out of mana, things could get ugly.”

“…Looks like things are as bad as we feared,” Leight said from Philip’s side. “There’s more than one breach in the barrier. The Sentinel Towers on Typhon’s side have also gone haywire.”

“The good news is Typhon can still hold the line for now. The bad news is our flanks probably won’t get reinforcements. If the barrier keeps deteriorating, they might even need our help,” Philip said, hands braced on the tactical table, eyes fixed on the line standing firm amid the black-and-red tide. “…Any news from Andersa Wendell’s side?”

“She says the Typhon Legion will try to plug the breach and asks if we need support.”

“…Thank them for their offer. Tell her we can still hold here,” Philip nodded. “Has the communications squad returned?”

“We’ve only partially restored contact with the eastern front. They’re moving to repair the next communication station.”

“The east…” Philip pictured a young man with silver hair and a bright, reliable smile. He shook his head and refocused on the overall battle. “Understood. Leave it to them.”

“The situation has been reported to the capital. Reinforcements are en route from the South Gate Fortress,” Leight said. “But until they arrive, the pressure on us will only increase…”

“No need to worry too much. The defenses we’ve set up here actually exceed what’s ‘necessary,’” Philip exhaled softly. “From the start, when our counterattack plan was first being prepared, His Majesty seemed to have anticipated the worst-case scenario. The true strength invested in this line is more than you can see… Honestly, even I thought it was overkill back then. But now, we all have to admit the Emperor’s judgment about the wasteland was right…”

He paused, then continued in a serious, almost muttering tone: “What I really worry about are the other defensive lines…”

At that moment, a staff officer’s voice interrupted Philip’s thoughts: “Sir! Enemy movements have changed. Their main force is turning!”

…

Continuous pale blue arcs soared from the distant human lines into the sky, tracing parabolic paths beneath the murky, low-hanging clouds before crashing down atop the Aberration legions.

Each arc’s impact triggered an explosion like a high-level magical blast. The powerful shockwaves shredded the Aberrations’ tough bodies, and the ensuing intense flames instantly scorched the entire area dry.

More terrifying than the power of these explosions was their sheer number.

They fell endlessly from the sky, like a torrential downpour. The bombardment had been going on for a long time, yet there was no sign of it letting up—in fact, it only grew fiercer with each passing moment. This could mean only one thing: for these “Cecilians,” launching such an assault wasn’t exhausting—at least not in the short term—and they still had even greater reserves at their disposal. Over time, their strength would only continue to swell.

Ahead, the distorted abominations charged in overwhelming numbers. Even under the relentless rain of “heavenly fire” crashing down upon them, they repeatedly surged toward the human lines. Fueled by sheer recklessness and backed by their vast numbers, they did manage to achieve some gains—the human defenses were pushed back several times, though only in small sections each time. According to sensory signals relayed by the abominations, the dark druid priest commanding this legion could see the steel war machines and the human soldiers moving swiftly alongside them. When the abominations charged, the humans didn’t break and scatter; instead, they executed orderly withdrawals. And as soon as they pulled back, the battlefield would be engulfed in flames from some kind of incendiary weapon, burning the intruding abominations to ash.

This kind of fighting was utterly disproportionate in terms of cost and reward.

The abomination legions didn’t fear losses. These clumsy, wandering monsters were hardly comrades, let alone valuable soldiers. The dark druids felt no pity or sorrow for their deaths. But even “cannon fodder” had a cost, and from a strategic standpoint, if the price paid early on was too high, it would undoubtedly hamper future operations.

Behind the tide of abominations, a towering, grotesquely twisted treant writhed its tendrils and reached out to another treant nearby. From the swaying canopy came a hoarse, grim voice: “Archdruid, the assault up front has been repelled. The humans resist fiercely. Should we increase the offensive?”

The druid priest known as the Archdruid shook his head. He lifted his gaze toward the distant, gradually weakening grand wall barrier, and the sentinel tower standing tall at its node—its protective glow already fading.

Under the dim, murky light, the tower’s radiance grew ever more faint. The streams of light weaving between the runes on its surface flickered intermittently, as if on the verge of collapse.

“We should give those stubborn humans a little ‘surprise’—and at the same time, wake up those foolish elves still trying to reboot the barrier system.

“Main force, redirect! Destroy that tower!”

(End of chapter)