Chapter 1316: Fighting Alone…?

Dust and smoke clouded their vision. The occasional sound of metal and rock snapping echoed from nearby ruined buildings or deep within the artificial terrain. Along with these cracks came tremors beneath their feet—this colossal fortress, though it had crashed onto the earth, was like a dying giant beast. Its massive, cumbersome body would take a long time to fully collapse and settle. Until then, the “death throes” of this behemoth might continue for days, even months.

Bersethia and Ilian had left the completely collapsed central palace behind. They trudged across the tilted, fractured ground, stepping over ruins billowing thick smoke and the shattered remains of magical weaponry. Several times they clashed with wandering mutants, but they no longer encountered any disciplined, coordinated enemies. Just as Bersethia had suspected, the massive energy shockwave released when the Star Temple fell had severed the “mental links” between the mutant legions in this area, turning those once capable of organized warfare back into mindless monsters. Without a doubt, this was good news.

Of course, Bersethia had entertained a more hopeful possibility—that perhaps the enemy’s highest commander in this region had been incredibly unlucky to be caught within the temple’s collapse zone, now reduced to nothing more than a stain deep within the ruins…

But she knew that was likely wishful thinking. The commanders behind these monsters were clearly cunning and cautious; they had the ability to direct front-line legions across vast battlefields, so there was no need for them to charge ahead with cannon fodder. Moreover, in previous battles, the soldiers who first engaged the enemy had never spotted any “officer”-level figures among the mutant hordes. So the controllers were probably still hiding deep within the wasteland, plotting their next move.

She wondered what expression they had worn when the Star Temple came crashing down from the sky.

Shaking her head to dismiss such irrelevant thoughts, Bersethia suddenly felt a strange rumble beneath her feet. Not far ahead, a structure collapsed with a crash. The ground nearby cracked open with creaking groans, and a series of flashes and bursts of smoke rose from the fissure.

She knew this was the “giant beast” beneath them still convulsing in death—like muscles twitching after flesh has died. Though the temple’s main systems had shut down completely, many ancient, complex chambers deep inside were still running their final processes. How long this would last, no one could say.

A low, chaotic roar mixed with murmurs drifted from a thick plume of smoke in the distance, breaking the faint sadness stirring in Bersethia’s heart. She and Ilian instinctively slowed their pace.

They quickly hid behind a massive boulder, eyes fixed warily on the billowing smoke pouring from a ventilation shaft. Heavy footsteps echoed from within, and the low roars and confused whispers grew louder.

Counting her heartbeats carefully, Bersethia caught sight of tall, twisted figures emerging unsteadily from the smoke. Muddy, bloodied flesh dripped from their grotesque forms as they staggered forward, their misshapen heads swaying side to side as if sniffing for the scent of living prey.

Without a word, Bersethia exchanged a glance with her personal attendant. Their battle plan was set. In the next instant, a figure wielding twin swords burst from their hiding spot. Lightning flashed in midair as two razor-sharp arcs cut through the charging mutants. The lead creature barely reacted before being sliced into three pieces—one sword severed its head, the other cut through its waist.

The blonde elf’s twin blades bloomed like flowers, slashing at near-sonic speed toward the second enemy. Ilian spun gracefully amid the steel petals. The startled mutant let out a chaotic roar and lunged toward the suddenly brightened life force—but in the next moment, a storm of ice shards materialized out of thin air, crashing down on the helpless abominations.

Their filthy, flowing flesh was pinned to the ground by the ice spikes. The biting cold crystallized and slowed their massive bodies. Ilian danced between the blades and the freezing wind, her charged swords harvesting the dying monsters one by one.

One mutant at the edge of the battlefield broke free from the ice at the last moment. It raised a massive arm, conjuring a dark red energy beam aimed at Ilian’s vulnerable back. But a sword flew through the air, held by an invisible magical hand. It instantly severed the creature’s arm, then sliced off its remaining limbs before soaring high and plunging down with a thunderous blast—pinning the monster’s head and chest to the blood-soaked earth.

At that moment, Ilian’s final strike finished the last kill. Within mere seconds, the chaotic roars of the mutants fell silent across the ruins.

Bersethia approached Ilian and gave a subtle wave. The sword that had pinned the monster was drawn out by the invisible magic hand, its blood wiped clean in midair before spinning back to the Silver Queen’s grasp. She watched Ilian prod a mutant corpse with her blade tip, frowning slightly.

“How many waves of monsters have we faced so far?” she asked.

“The seventh wave—excluding the ones we carefully avoided,” Ilian replied, looking up. “Thankfully, they’re just scattered stragglers. If they came in organized hordes, we wouldn’t stand a chance. What are you thinking?”

“How did they survive the initial shockwave?” Bersethia’s expression darkened. “A few survivors here and there make sense—they’re numerous and resilient, so some lucky ones hiding in just the right spots could have escaped. But we’ve encountered so many survivors already… and this is the upper level of the temple.”

Ilian’s expression shifted slightly. “You mean…”

“Yes. The upper level. And this is after the temple’s main body fractured and all connecting passages were sealed. For those monsters wandering the plains below to climb up here is no easy feat—it’s like scaling a treacherous mountain. Even if they don’t tire or feel pain, it would still take time to crawl up from the earth beneath.”

Bersethia’s voice was low as she stared at the filthy, broken corpses. The mutant bodies were already decomposing, their flesh dissolving into black smoke that rose and vanished, leaving behind only twisted, heavily corroded skeletons. Slowly, she began to piece together some of the mutants’ “traits.”

“Perhaps… they were only recently ‘generated’ here in the upper temple,” she said slowly. “Ilian, do you remember that mysterious ability mutants have? They can ‘appear out of thin air’ in the magical energy environment of the wasteland…”

Ilian’s eyes widened. After a moment, she nodded grimly. “Yes, I remember. It was first discovered by Uncle Gawain’s team seven hundred years ago. When enough mutants gather, they create a magical energy field like that of the Gondor wasteland. Once the field reaches a certain density, more mutants spontaneously condense within it, snowballing their numbers and rapidly spreading the contamination… That’s their most terrifying trait. Back then, we had to build the ‘Grant Wall’ to seal off the entire ancient Gondor kingdom—mainly because of this.”

As she spoke, the elven attendant slowly scanned the smoke-filled upper temple area, her tone growing hesitant and tense. “Could it be that this place has already…”

“After the Grant Wall was breached, the wasteland’s aura inevitably leaked out—meaning the ‘wasteland’ itself expanded. And right now, we’re crashing near the original Sentinel Tower, blocking this very breach,” Bersethia said solemnly. “In a sense, we’re already standing inside the wasteland. The temple’s massive structure acts as a barrier, holding most of the contamination to the north, so the number of mutants generated here is limited. But… they are definitely being generated.”

Ilian’s eyes widened further. She clenched her sword tighter as a chill crept up from her core—until the Silver Queen’s voice cut through the cold dread.

“Fortunately, we sealed it off.”

She smiled faintly at Ilian and repeated, “Fortunately, we sealed it off. Even if a few mutants manage to climb over the temple’s top, the southern garrison will quickly eliminate them. And the Star Temple itself, this fallen mountain, blocks the wasteland’s aura. Ilian, we didn’t let the Kingdom of Gaoling become a second Gondor wasteland. That’s something to be grateful for.”

Ilian stared at the queen she had grown up with, stunned for several seconds before a small smile finally curved her lips.

“You’re right. That really is something to be grateful for…”

No sooner had she spoken than a low, guttural noise—part roar, part whisper—suddenly rose from the nearby smoke!

The sound muttered faintly at first, like a trick of the dust, but then vague limbs began to materialize in the air. First came a twisted skeleton, then oozing, muddy flesh gathered over the bones. The terrifying mutant was born right before Ilian and Bersethia’s eyes, as if a nightmare had taken shape out of thin air!

Swish—clang!

A sharp crack sliced through the air, followed instantly by the metallic clash of blades. The monstrous form, barely half-formed, was cleaved clean in two by two intersecting swords. In a flash, Ilian struck and then was back at Belsethia’s side—unlike the dark sorcerers and evil dragons from bard tales, she wasn’t going to wait for the disgusting creature to fully materialize like some hero giving a grand speech.

“You were right about the other thing, too,” Ilian said with a wry smile, glancing at the longsword still smeared with blood that wouldn’t come off. She then looked over at Belsethia. “These monsters really are just born moments ago…”

Belsethia said nothing. Slowly, she raised her battle staff and enchanted longsword. Around them, an unsettling aura began to gather rapidly. Countless low murmurs and guttural roars echoed through the seemingly empty air, filling her senses like nightmares lurking in the dark.

Perhaps drawn by the strong life force here, or stirred by the recent battle’s commotion, the malevolence that had long infested this wasteland finally took notice of the two active “uninvited guests.” Corrupted, filthy power coalesced into its minions—one by one, shadowy, grotesquely twisted towering figures formed in the surrounding air, filling the field of vision for both mistress and servant.

This time, there was no corner left to hide in, no path to escape.

Belsethia glanced at her loyal attendant. “Ilian, afraid?”

“Nothing to be afraid of. Just… these things are disgusting,” Ilian replied flatly. “Killing this many gross creatures in one day? I’m going to have nightmares.”

Belsethia smiled faintly. Magic shimmered at the tip of her staff, but her mind drifted to something seemingly unrelated to the present crisis—

“Seven hundred years ago, Uncle Gawain… did he face something like this, only to die exhausted in the end?”

“Maybe… the records of that battle are vague, but I think what we’re facing now is just as bad.”

Belsethia chuckled softly. She flicked her staff downward, unleashing a chain of thunderous strikes that ignited the air around them. Like a torrential storm, the lightning obliterated the half-formed monsters in waves. Yet, from the smoke rising where those creatures fell, even more twisted shapes began to take form. The low murmurs and roars grew louder, thick with malice.

“Tell me, if we fall today, will we end up like Uncle Gawain in a few hundred years… you know, ‘rising from the grave’?”

“You won’t fall today,” Ilian said, raising her twin swords with unfounded but fierce confidence. “I told you, this corrupted land isn’t worthy to claim your life.”

Belsethia couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head gently. “You really are optimis—”

“BOOM!!”

A terrifying explosion shattered the moment, cutting off the Silver Queen’s words and shaking the very heavens and earth.

It sounded like some massive, heavy beast had crashed into the ground at supersonic speed—like a small mountain collapsing beside the Starfall Sanctuary. The dreadful impact rocked the earth itself, making both Belsethia and Ilian stagger, dizzy. Then, a series of thunderous rumbles echoed from afar, rolling closer and closer.

Like a raging giant beast, something was barreling through the mountains, flattening everything in its path.

Even the ever-calm Ilian was visibly shaken. “Your Majesty… what is that noise?!”

Belsethia was equally stunned. In the distance, a massive plume of dust rose into the sky, and within it, something enormous was charging straight toward them.

“I don’t know…”

She murmured instinctively, but before she could finish, another thunderous voice drowned out her whisper—

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming—”

(End of chapter)