Chapter 1347: Capture

Before the endless starlight and swirling colors, Bertram felt his consciousness slowly unraveling. Strange “things” that didn’t belong to him surged rapidly into his soul, swiftly eroding and replacing his very being. For a fleeting moment, he still remembered his own name—but the next instant, all his self-awareness was swallowed by an ocean of overwhelming information. Then, barely a moment later, he realized that the body he had only recently possessed was slipping beyond his control.

New organs sprouted within him; the wooden surface that had long since petrified years ago now showed signs of flesh and blood. He opened eye after eye, each seemingly harboring its own independent consciousness. Countless voices clamored in his mind, merging into a vast, chaotic roar. Amid that tumultuous sound, he saw a towering figure descend—like a lighthouse in the night.

The figure stood before a small hill and bent down toward him. She reached out her hand to the earth, as if a giant picking up a pebble by the roadside. Bertram’s last thought was to flee—but his body moved of its own accord, plunging into the purple mist-shrouded palm. Then… he could no longer hold onto his sanity and, as if embracing a blessing, lost consciousness.

Myrmina reached out and lifted the creature—part treant, part human—curiously examining its form. Its bizarre shape intrigued her, but she knew she couldn’t keep this being in her laboratory. According to the neural network data, this was the dark priest who had escaped from Beltira’s “predation zone.” As a valuable intelligence asset, it belonged to the Empire.

With a sigh tinged with regret, the Mistress of All Magic stood tall amid swirling mists. Her towering form began to shrink rapidly, fading away. Behind her, a grand array of runes unfolded, shifting and reconnecting into chains and rings. These suppressed and sealed away the maddening powers that could drive mortals insane. Within mere seconds, the colossal figure vanished into the vortex of clouds, leaving only a two-meter-tall Myrmina.zip standing at the mansion’s gate. Beneath her feet lay the utterly transformed Bertram.

Once a dark high priest, he was now a grotesque cylindrical mass of vines, wood chunks, and rotting flesh. A terrifying, snarling face was embedded at the top, with a second—and even third and fourth—face layered along the middle.

“…All from just one glance? Was it really necessary to end up like this…” Myrmina muttered with some resentment. She casually traced a few runes in the air, connecting to the mansion’s magic network terminal. “Hello? Yes, this is frontline researcher Mina. We just captured that escaped dark priest… yes, the one who fled from Beltira’s area. Tell them to stand down—no need to pursue. What? The anti-divinity barrier fluctuation? That happened during the capture… yes, we confirmed the surroundings beforehand, no leaks. I know, I know, I’ll file the report later. The procedure’s been confirmed—I understand.”

…

Waves of scorching heat rose through the forest. The “Path of Purification,” forged by magi-cannons and heavy flamers, stretched from the Farm Fortress all the way to the northern edge of the forest barrier. Amid the creaking and groaning of massive wooden limbs, heavily armored “New Treant Guards” armed with heavy weapons strode out of the woods. They unleashed devastating firepower on the mutated and bio-engineered monsters fleeing across the scorched earth, steadily pushing the frontline forward.

“Boom!!”

A brilliant orb of light streaked across the sky, followed by a deafening explosion in the distance. The Arcane Star, personally summoned by the Elven Queen Belsethia, crashed down on the forest’s horizon, obliterating the last aberrant artillery position still firing energy shells. With the enemy’s heavy long-range fire silenced, the armored treant guards solidified their hold on the frontline.

They spread the alloy plates around their treetop crowns like blossoming buds. Vines dangled down, and numerous heavily armed ranger warriors descended along these natural ropes, beginning to clear the remaining foes from the scorched land and shielding the engineers as they hurried to build fortifications and strongholds.

A particularly massive treant guard, clad in thick armor and equipped with various auxiliary combat devices, strode to the center of the line. As it opened the alloy plates around its crown, a petite figure peeked out—golden hair flowing, skin pale to near translucence, arcane runes flickering across her body, magical radiance dancing on her skin. She looked down at the ground and saw Belsethia standing among several adamantine golems, her face lighting up with a radiant smile.

“Your Majesty! How’s the battle going?”

“An impressively powerful advance. This forest is now back under our control,” Belsethia praised without reservation. She glanced at the “Commander of the Solin Expeditionary Force” riding atop the treant guard—Belsethia’s public identity within the southern allied forces. “Do you need a break? You’ve been commanding this massive army alone for quite some time…”

“No, I’m full of energy,” Berna smiled brightly, raising her slender fist. “This body was specially ‘manufactured.’ Aside from necessary ‘rest,’ I hardly need to stop.”

“That’s good,” Belsethia nodded, then her gaze involuntarily drifted beyond the treant guard toward the imposing shadow resting between the mountains and plains. “Finally… we’ve returned here.”

“Here…” Berna turned to follow the Elven Queen’s gaze. She saw the towering shadow, the fractured and collapsed mountainside, the ruined palaces and halls strewn across the valley, and the fortress’s skeletal remains jutting skyward like the bones of a giant beast. The shattered Star Temple loomed like a broken mountain range reflected in the young elf’s eyes, stirring a faint dizziness. “The last time I saw it, it still floated majestically in the sky…”

“History must turn its page. All we can do is ensure civilization remains unblemished, and our ancestors unashamed,” Belsethia said calmly, hearing the elf’s sigh. “Though the Star Temple has fallen, it still guards our civilization. Next, we will establish a new forward fortress at the main ruins of the Star Temple along the wasteland border.

“The temple’s alloy walls and dragonbone will support our walls and towers. Usable structures from the collapsed areas will be recycled and reforged. Valendian has already ordered domestic production facilities to work overtime manufacturing components for purification devices. Once the allied forces secure the ruins, we’ll begin building the first ‘Purification Tower’ of the blockade wall.”

Berna listened quietly as the Silver Queen outlined the future plans. In her mind’s eye, she saw allied soldiers stepping back into the ruined temple, clearing debris, relighting extinguished lamps, repairing crumbling corridors, and erecting new walls along the edges of the ruins. A long-dormant thrill stirred within her—a feeling she hadn’t experienced since first crossing the Returner’s Long Bridge centuries ago, facing the unknown northern lands, embarking on her first adventure.

She had thought that feeling lost forever. But now… it seemed her life’s most exciting chapter was just beginning.

…

“Myrmina has captured the dark priest called ‘Bertram,’” Gawain said from behind his desk in the highest administrative hall of Cecil City, addressing Hetty, who had just entered the office. “He’s already been sent to Philip’s base.”

“Captured by Myrmina?” Hetty blinked in surprise, quickly sketching a rough mental map of the vast frontline in the southern living forest region. Her expression twisted oddly. “Wasn’t that dark priest supposed to have escaped from Beltira’s ‘predation zone’? That place is quite a distance from our frontline lab. How did Myrmina manage to catch him?”

“Probably a mix of incredible luck and exceptional tracking skills,” Gawain said after a moment’s thought. “Plus, he witnessed Myrmina’s mythic form firsthand—without any protective gear. From the reports coming in, we don’t have to worry about him escaping again. Now, the only question is how much useful intel Beltira can still extract from his neural organs…”

Hetty’s expression grew more complicated. After a long pause, she muttered quietly, “I really don’t want to know what that poor guy looks like now…”

Shaking her head, she placed several documents on Gawain’s desk and continued, “We just received updates from the eastern and southern battlefields. On the eastern front, the Typhon mage corps and the National Knights have successfully cleared the aberrant legions near the Dark Hills. General Andersa of the Wolf Brigade is establishing a large forward base there, preparing to start building the transverse blockade wall across the wasteland.”

“Rosetta Augustus is beginning to fulfill his promise,” Gawain said gravely. “And the southern front?”

“The ‘Solin Expeditionary Force’ has stabilized the southern front. The southern allied forces can now redeploy troops to reinforce their northwest border. The aberrant legions advancing south from the Augure tribe lands have been halted north of Greta Fortress, though fighting remains fierce. Meanwhile, the Silver Empire’s Millennium Legion, supported by the Solin Expeditionary Force’s firepower, is gradually reclaiming territory north of the forest barrier, now pushing into the Star Temple crash zone. According to the Silver Queen’s latest report, her next step is to retake the Star Temple ruins and establish a forward base there as the southern anchor of the blockade wall.”

“‘Solin Expeditionary Force’…” Gawain repeated softly. “Alright, Beltira was right. That little elf and her ‘bodyguards’ have exceeded expectations. But it sounds like the situation there is still unstable. The aberrants moving south from Augure are only temporarily contained at the northwest border of the Highland Kingdom. The southern allied forces don’t yet have the strength to wipe them out completely…”

He shook his head as he spoke. “What about the western front? Has Duke Bertram sent any word?”

“The western front is in chaos,” Heddy replied with a serious expression. “Many tribes there have suffered heavy losses. On top of that, the original border defenses of the Ogre tribe’s territory were completely destroyed by the Aberrations. The long frontier now needs constant guarding. The expeditionary forces that Bertram and Jinna led have been forced to slow their advance. They’ve just managed to seal the gap in the mountain barrier, but numerous rogue Aberrations still roam the forests, instinctively moving toward the inland cities of the Ogre lands. Refugees are everywhere, and many gathering points lack protection. Even a ‘sanctuary’ surrounded by a simple fence could suffer heavy losses if faced with a lone Aberration… The situation is extremely complicated.”

“So it’s turned into a prolonged ‘anti-bandit campaign’…” Gawain’s brow furrowed deeper. “Bertram should be able to handle this kind of situation, but the problem is we don’t have time to wait. The barrier wall has to be built as soon as possible. The stretch across the wasteland can’t rely solely on the Typhon Empire—that’s too much pressure and risk. What’s Rebecca working on?”

“Building more supercritical accelerators for the Dawn of the World, and assembling factories for infernal incendiary bombs,” Heddy said, her tone a little stiff—likely the aftereffect of nervously signing off on the budget. “They’re working around the clock.”

“Excellent,” Gawain smiled immediately. “That’s exactly her strength, and exactly what the western front needs. If we can’t quickly establish a ‘western forward base’ on the ground, then blasting a path through the western wasteland from the air is a viable alternative. That would make building the western barrier wall much easier.”

He exhaled softly, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful look. “Next, it all depends on how much useful intel Beltira can extract from her ‘former comrades’… If we can get a clear picture of those Dark Priests’ deployments and the true objective of the Sentinels, the scales might finally tip decisively in our favor…”

…

In a garden blanketed with countless pure white flowers, a middle-aged man in a drab gray-white robe suddenly opened his eyes.

In an instant, a flood of abstract, chaotic, fragmented impressions surged into his mind, assaulting his spirit. He couldn’t piece together any concrete memories from the shattered images, but an overwhelming, profound terror pressed down on him like a tidal wave. It was as if he had forgotten some terrible truth, yet the raw essence of fear itself was seared deep into his soul.

This dreadful sensation felt like a prolonged torment. Though it lasted only a few seconds, it was enough to drive the man to clutch his head and emit a series of garbled, agonized screams. He writhed in the flower field, as if his mind were being slowly dissolved by a strong acid. Then, the rustling of leaves and footsteps suddenly came from nearby. The pain in his head vanished abruptly. Trembling all over, he stopped and looked up with a dazed gaze toward the figure approaching him.

Beltira, dressed in a pale green gown, stood at the center of the garden.

She looked down at the crouching man.

“Long time no see, Bertram.

“Welcome to your final resting place.”

(End of chapter)