Chapter 1388: The Final Battle Approaches

The nations of Loren, locked in all-out war, currently had little bandwidth to spare for space exploration. Engaging in interstellar communication carried too many unpredictable risks, requiring lengthy deliberations. Not to mention the potential upheaval it could cause to the entire mortal faith system—a massive test to the stability of the gods themselves. Theoretically, simply restoring interstellar signals was far less provocative to the gods than manned spaceflight, but who could guarantee how much “stimulation” it might cause?

After all, the Divine Authority Council had been tirelessly at work these past years. The allied nations had been employing various methods to loosen and sever the mental seals imposed on mortals—those “mind steel stamps” that bound human souls under divine control. This process was essentially a dance on a razor’s edge: carefully peeling away the links between gods and mortals at a dangerous threshold, inching toward severing the chains without driving the gods into madness. The boundary of defiance was constantly tested, hopping back and forth. When this process finally concluded, both gods and humans would be free. But until then… the gods remained perpetually on the brink of pressure overload. Responding to interstellar communications now? Who could say which straightforward but reckless deity might suddenly lose their mind with a roar?

So this matter had to be approached with patience. At least until the war settled, until the allied nations could better control public opinion and assemble large expert teams. Until then, Cecil’s side could only focus on the preparatory work that Gawain had mentioned: compiling a modern “alien dictionary” and translating the signals already received.

Once those arrangements were in place, Gawain suddenly looked up, turning his gaze toward a holographic projection across the round table—the figure of Duchess Victoria of the North hovered above the arcane network terminal.

“Victoria, have the northern listening stations been operating normally? Have they received any signals recently?”

“All northern stations are functioning as usual,” Victoria replied promptly. “Since last winter, we’ve recorded sixteen signals. While some content repeats, there are occasional variations. We’re gradually mastering the characteristics of these signals, enabling timely and sensitive detection. Some signals previously lost in atmospheric interference can now be effectively recorded. Once the ‘dictionary’ is complete, decryption can begin immediately.”

“Good,” Gawain nodded lightly, then shifted to another topic. “How is the old duke’s condition?”

He meant Modril Wilde—the ancient legendary adventurer with a strange fate, now caught in a mysterious “life-and-death threshold,” pursued by the Night Lady’s divine power. An ancestor of Victoria Wilde. Due to the Night Lady’s influence and possible corruption from the Reverse Tide, Modril’s state was unstable. Half of his “existence” had been replaced by the Night Lady’s shadow dust, constantly deteriorating. Only by wielding the dark authority stolen by Amber did he barely maintain stability in the material world. He currently resided in Winterhold, under the care of his descendant Victoria.

Among the empire’s three grand magistrates, Duke Bertram Wilde was leading troops at the front, Hetty was occupied with daily governance, and Victoria’s main responsibility was ensuring industrial supply and troop transport to the front lines. Beyond that, much of her attention was devoted to their ancestor—Modril’s unique experience and his mysterious connection to the Night Lady had long been a focus of Gawain’s concern.

“He’s stable for now,” Victoria said. “After good rest and some mental magic to soothe him, his spirit has steadied considerably. He hasn’t fallen into the dark night dreamscape recently. But he still occasionally senses a distant ‘call,’ even in normal dreams… often hearing the Night Lady’s or ‘Wilde’s’ voice. Unless we can resolve the divine power chasing him at its source and recover the ‘other half’ of his existence that was severed, this will likely continue indefinitely.”

Gawain glanced at Amber and spoke gravely, “We still can’t locate the Night Lady’s divine realm. It’s not on the Sentinels’ patrol routes. Amber has been studying the shadow dust, trying to find a way to connect with the Night Lady. There’s no other way for now. We’ll wait a little longer—there will be good news.”

Victoria’s expression remained calm as she bowed her head slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Gawain took a deep breath, scanning the faces around the room, then cleared his throat. “Then, moving on—”

Before he could finish, a sharp “clang” rang out. Veronica slammed her platinum scepter down on the table, the sudden noise startling those nearby. Gawain instinctively opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but saw Veronica’s expression turn eerily blank. The gentle smile and warmth in her eyes had vanished without warning. The scene was so strange that Gawain felt as if her soul had been ripped from her body. Then, in a cold, mechanical voice, she spoke:

“—First defense ring breached. Confirmed frontal assault. Self-repair protocols activated. Shield entering combat mode. Command module online. Core barrier rising. Energy redirected to combat units. Allocating computational resources. Disabling all weapon restrictions—”

After the cold, emotionless voice faded, Veronica blinked, as if suddenly awakening. Her body trembled slightly, and the holy light that had faded around her slowly returned. Gawain sensed the “human” side of her had come back and immediately asked, “What’s happening?”

Though he asked, a grim suspicion had already taken root in his mind. Veronica’s next words confirmed his worst fears.

“One minute ago, the outer defense belt of the Deep Blue Well came under heavy attack. My guard units are engaged with the enemy.”

“The Deep Blue Well… the center of the wasteland?” Amber’s eyes widened. “Wait, those dark priests have started attacking the Deep Blue Well? I thought they wouldn’t dare pick at the hardest bone! There’s still a fully intact imperial defense ring and a complete Iron Legion stationed there!”

Gawain was equally shocked, but more concerned about Veronica/Ophelia’s situation. “How’s the battle? What’s the damage?”

“The central fortress was built atop the old imperial city’s doomsday shelter, with extremely strong defenses and seven layers of protection from outside in. So far, only the outermost ring has sustained moderate damage from heavy bombardment. Repair systems are active, and damage is within acceptable limits,” Veronica said calmly, though her expression had grown serious. “However, the enemy’s assault is fierce. Energy signatures have appeared in all directions within my sensing range. Frontline scouts have spotted new enemy units never seen before, as well as a massive… structure.”

She gripped her platinum scepter tightly, voice grave. “Due to limited operational range, I cannot detect the enemy’s base boundaries or estimate how many troops are still gathering in the distance. Based on current calculations, if the enemy maintains this intensity, the Deep Blue Well could fall within a month.”

The possibility of the Deep Blue Well falling hit the room like a thunderclap. Everyone’s faces tightened instantly—except Gawain. After a brief flash of surprise, his expression settled into thoughtful calm.

“So it’s come to this…”

The attack on the Deep Blue Well was sudden, but Gawain wasn’t surprised. From the start, he knew that if the wasteland legions failed to achieve their current objectives, they might turn to assault the Deep Blue Well. After all, the dark priests’ ultimate goal was to deploy rune stones and “tame” the planet. If they couldn’t break through the civilized world’s defenses, their only option was to target the largest deep blue rift at the wasteland’s heart. In other words, as long as the alliance continued gaining ground on other fronts, pushing back the wasteland and building the blockade walls, the wasteland legions would inevitably, in desperation, attack the Deep Blue Well.

“Don’t forget the staff’s simulations,” Gawain said steadily, calming the room’s tension. “Those dark priests were bound to attack the Deep Blue Well eventually. Their assaults on the civilized world have been repelled across the board. All wasteland legions have been pushed back deep into the wasteland, and our purification devices are rapidly spreading into their territory. The dark priests have no choice left. Their decision to attack the Deep Blue Well now might actually be a good sign.”

“A good sign?” Amber’s eyes went wide. “Veronica’s getting hammered!”

“I’m not,” Veronica started to protest, but quickly swallowed her words. She couldn’t bring herself to argue with this alliance embarrassment in such a setting. “You’re right.”

Amber, a nocturnal creature with a sharp tongue, was the ancient machine spirit’s nemesis. Any creature with pride would struggle to perform fully in her presence—the more prideful, the worse.

Gawain was used to this by now. He glanced at Amber, then casually said, “Veronica’s base has extremely strong defenses and a fully staffed Iron Legion. Attacking there is no easy task. Our previous simulations confirmed that unless absolutely necessary, the dark priests wouldn’t pick this hard bone. Even if they could engage the alliance legions in attrition, they wouldn’t want to tangle with the Iron Legion. But now, their choice to attack the Deep Blue Well shows they’re at their wit’s end. They’re falling into desperation faster than we imagined. That’s good.”

He stood slowly, hands resting on the edge of the table, voice low but firm.

“Attacking the Deep Blue Well is the wasteland legions’ last and worst option. After this, the dark priests will have exhausted their trump cards. Our blockade walls have already advanced into the heart of the old Gondor Empire from four directions. The wasteland legions have little depth left to draw out a war of attrition. And to assault the Deep Blue Well, they must commit massive forces and resources, which will weaken them on other fronts. This means our advances will be smoother than before.”

“Immediately send this news to all alliance commanders. The final battle is upon us. Tell our allies to bring out everything they’ve been saving. Use all our strength to complete the blockade walls. Crush those monsters with overwhelming force in the scorched lands of old Gondor. The fate of the civilized world will be decided within the next month.”

“We must close the blockade walls before the Deep Blue Well falls and utterly shatter the wasteland legions!”

Gawain’s final, steady voice carried an undeniable power of encouragement, rekindling the confidence and fighting spirit that had been somewhat suppressed in everyone’s hearts. After all, none of those present were ordinary people. Once the situation became clear, each of them knew exactly what needed to be done. The few decisions made during the earlier meeting were quickly adjusted—less critical matters could be postponed. From this point forward, the entire strength of the Cecile Empire, and indeed the whole alliance, would be poured into this war.

One by one, figures rose and left the conference room; the holographic projections in the air gradually faded away. When the secretaries of the Supreme Council also departed, the vast chamber was left with only Gawain, Amber, and Veronica, who was softly surrounded by a faint holy light.

The three of them walked last.

The attendants and guards waited outside the door.

Gawain stood up from his chair and let out a quiet breath. Amber stepped closer and glanced up at him. “So, things aren’t looking so great, huh?”

“They’re not terrible. The dawn of victory is indeed visible to everyone—but the darkness before that dawn is deadly,” Gawain said, knowing Amber’s sharp perception well. Beneath her unreliable exterior was a keen mind, and he didn’t bother hiding the truth. “Even if we have a ninety-nine percent chance of winning, that one percent failure means ecological extinction on a planetary scale. Everyone’s aware of that… but we have to avoid dwelling on the possibility of losing.”

“…Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Amber exhaled, her form beginning to slowly fade into the air as she waved her hand. “I’ve got work to do. The quiet days are over…”

Watching Amber’s figure dissolve into the air, Gawain shook his head. “…You haven’t had a quiet day in a long time.”

He fell silent for two seconds, then looked up at Veronica. “You can really hold on for another month, right?”

“That’s a precise calculation. Within foreseeable margins of error, there won’t be any more variables,” Veronica replied calmly. “I will endure until you arrive.”

“…That feeling is strange,” Gawain admitted with a hint of emotion. “You’re standing right in front of me…”

“Yes, I stand before you, yet I am trapped deep within the wasteland. That often creates a sense of cognitive dissonance,” Veronica’s voice was soft and steady. “Sometimes, when I awaken in this body, I’m affected by the body itself—cheered by the sunlight and gentle breeze outside the window, to the point of forgetting the pollution and decay of the wasteland.”

“…The pollution and decay will end soon.” After a moment of silence, Gawain said slowly.

“Yes, the pollution and decay will end.”

(End of chapter)