Chapter 1390: Another Front

The sun was sinking slowly, its orange-red glow filtering through the thin clouds and casting a warm light over the barren, corrupted land. Before Andesha Windell’s eyes, the earth stretched out endlessly, the blackened “ground” roiling like a rising tide. Murky, monstrous waves surged forward, carrying with them a madness and malice that seemed intent on swallowing all life whole, shaking the entire terrain violently.

A dark red signal flare shot into the sky, bursting above the clouds into a dazzling orb of light even more brilliant than the setting sun. Bathed in its glow, the defensive lines built by the Winter Wolf Knights seemed suddenly wreathed in flames. Then, from behind the front, a howling roar rose like a forming hurricane, growing from a low rumble into a deafening thunder.

Andesha glanced back. Over the hills flanking the knights’ encampment to the north and south, vast fields of glowing runes appeared, cascading from the sky like a torrential downpour of arcane symbols. Around each hill, a three-dimensional, ever-shifting curtain of complex runes took shape. From this curtain, numerous rings and bands radiated outward, forming a massive matrix in the air. Twelve arcane power stations surrounding the hills roared to life, channeling immense magical energy into the network. Through broadcast devices, this power was transmitted to the battle mage regiment’s matrix, and moments later, the spell took form.

The clouds above were torn apart by a tremendous force, and dozens of radiant halos formed a continuous “sea” of light over the knights’ camp. Within this ocean of heat, thousands of scorching laser beams rained down like a violent storm, mercilessly sweeping through the advancing “black tide” of abominations. Like a blizzard sweeping over snow, countless charred limbs and fragments of flesh were consumed by rising crimson smoke, quickly blanketing the entire plain.

After the first laser storm—an army-level thermal ray barrage—the relentless black tide was shredded and visibly diminished. Yet the monsters, heedless of pain or fear, ignorant of cover or formation, surged forward again after a brief pause. Though thinned out, their momentum toward the defensive line remained undiminished.

“Recharge,” Andesha ordered into the comm device beside her. “After three rounds of thermal ray barrages, activate the electric field traps and close-range protective barriers. The knights, start warming up the thermal shields—prepare to engage.”

“Yes, General!” came the voice of the battle mage commander through the comm. As the order was given, the skies above the two hills on the flanks brightened once more.

At the mage regiment’s base, the battle mages began channeling the second thermal ray barrage. They stood atop a massive legion-level magic array, rapidly assembled from prefabricated modular components. The array’s edges were equipped with interfaces for connecting to other energy systems, along with numerous pipes and grids. As the legion mages began their incantations, the grids at the array’s perimeter erupted with scalding steam and faintly glowing blue “waste energy.” Engineering mages stationed there closely monitored the pipes running up from the valley below, along with valves and pressure gauges, guarding against overheating or damage.

Times were changing. Even the Typhon Empire, which still relied heavily on traditional mages, had learned to adapt. The clever mages had found ways to combine arcane technology with conventional spellcasting. The pressures of war accelerated the maturation of new ideas and technologies: external power stations to charge legion-level spells, prefabricated engineering components replacing old-fashioned array setups, alchemical coolants and large circulation pumps to shorten the cooldowns of massive spells. On top of that, personal mana coordinators, balancers, load safeties, and unlimited alchemical potions allowed the battle mage regiment to nearly double their output.

This was the fruit of technological progress—and the hard-won experience of countless battles soaked in blood.

After a brief delay, the second charge completed. The howling rose again from the hills, and the sunset sky ignited once more with a brilliant laser storm. Light exploded across the land, and the tide of mutants and bio-synthetic beasts steamed and vanished beneath the onslaught.

Three rounds of thermal ray barrages later, more than half the monsters had been cut down. The survivors pressed on, closing in on the Winter Wolf Knights’ defensive line. Behind that line stood a towering spire, its metallic surface faintly glowing with dim arcane runes gradually lighting up.

That was the Purification Tower. It was slowly “awakening,” its ordered energy field beginning to influence the chaotic magical environment of the region. The mutants, whose stability depended on the wasteland’s unique “force fields,” sensed this threat keenly. Driven by instinct, they became ten times more ferocious, charging madly toward the “last line of defense.”

They plunged headlong into the electric field traps.

Suddenly, bright arcs of electricity erupted from the ground, spreading rapidly through the black tide, using the monsters stepping on the traps as nodes. A thunderous web of lightning covered the earth, the crackling currents sending chills down the spine of anyone who dared look.

This weapon had been developed during the earlier Typhon-Cecil War, originally used against the war machines of the Cecilians. Now, the Typhon forces had discovered it was even more effective against swarming living targets. In an instant, it could crisp hundreds or thousands of bio-monsters, spreading swiftly through dense formations.

When the electric field finally died down, barely one in ten of the mutants and synthetic beasts remained able to move.

Those remaining staggered and roared, convulsing as they staggered into the knights’ thermal shields. Crimson heat flared from the barrier’s surface, knocking the filthy abominations to the ground. Then the knights drew their swords and blades. The final fight was fierce but brief—a near one-sided slaughter—and at last, the battlefield fell utterly silent.

“They’re getting easier to deal with,” Andesha murmured, watching the now-quiet field and the soldiers tending to the wounded and clearing the lines. “Though their numbers remain vast, they can no longer inflict significant losses.”

“They’re in decline, just as His Majesty predicted,” said the silver-haired, dark-skinned female adjutant behind Andesha, her expression serious. “Meanwhile, our soldiers have grown rapidly through this war. Their skills and tactics improve. With this ebb and flow, today’s victories are only natural.”

“Yes, they’re fading—but that also means the fighting at the heart of the wasteland, at the ‘Deep Blue Well,’ is intensifying. The cultists are concentrating all their forces there,” Andesha’s voice dropped low. “The Iron Legion of Princess Gandor is holding the line alone against the entire wasteland’s might. The orders from above are clear: within one month, they must push forward to the ‘Old Imperial Defense Ring.’ In other words, the defenses at the Deep Blue Well can only hold for about a month at most…”

She lifted her gaze to the vast wasteland. Though the weather had warmed, her voice still carried a chill. “If the allied forces can’t break through this battlefield within a month, if the barrier wall can’t be activated smoothly, then all our efforts and sacrifices so far will have been for nothing. Once the entire planet is ‘tamed,’ all the victories we’ve won will mean nothing.”

The silver-haired adjutant glanced at her general. She knew Andesha would never voice such grim truths to the soldiers. The warriors’ morale was high after a string of victories, and they pushed forward with all their might. But the shadow behind those triumphs weighed heavily on everyone. Some “truths” were meant for only a few to bear.

The blazing sun finally slipped below the horizon, leaving a lingering dark red glow spreading like blood across the clouds. Around the encampment, engineering mages used fossil-to-mud and fortification spells to raise towering walls. Though the gray stone barriers were far from elegant, in the blood-red twilight of the wasteland, they carried a solemn, desolate grandeur. The walls and hastily erected shields brought the weary soldiers the most precious gift: a sense of safety. In this alien land far from civilization, the chance to rest behind high walls was worth its weight in gold to the expeditionary forces.

Magic crystal lamps were lit. The arcane networks laid with prefabricated components and mobile energy vehicles began powering the entire frontline base. Defense crystals on the temporary walls hummed with a low, steady drone. The mage sentinels’ Eyes of Magic patrolled the skies.

Andesha Windell moved between the barracks, listening to the rough laughter and chatter of soldiers carried on the night breeze.

Suddenly, a melody drifted from nearby, causing her to pause. It was a folk tune from her homeland. Instinctively, she followed the sound and saw a group of soldiers gathered in a lit clearing. A blonde female knight held a “Belum harp,” a common instrument in the Enchihock region, playing a simple, bright, and melodious tune.

Andesha had no intention of disturbing their rare leisure, but as she prepared to pass quietly, the female knight spotted her. She stopped playing, stood, and saluted toward Andesha. The other soldiers quickly noticed and rose to salute as well.

Andesha smiled and approached the group. After accepting their salute, she fixed her gaze on the blonde knight. “That’s a familiar melody… What’s your name? Are you from Enchihock?”

“Reporting, General, I am Marianne Raven, Captain of the 12th Combat Squad, 2nd Battalion, 8th Regiment of the newly formed National Knights,” the young blonde knight replied crisply, then shook her head. “I’m not from Enchihock, but my roommate during my studies was. I learned this tune from her.”

“Marianne… I think I remember you from last week’s recruitment list,” Andersa said softly, nodding slightly. At the same time, she recognized the emblem on the young knight’s breastplate. That insignia marked her as a newly promoted commander—a recent rank that had become increasingly common on the front lines. As the situation stabilized, the battlefield was gradually coming under control. What had once been a near-catastrophic crisis had turned into a training ground for the Empire’s troops. The Empire was sending a steady stream of fresh recruits to the front, rotating them through combat to toughen them up. These rapidly maturing warriors would help make up for the devastating losses the Empire had suffered in the Godhunter War.

Andersa knew it wasn’t just Typhon doing this. Nearly every military power capable of dispatching large-scale expeditions into the wasteland was using the same approach. For the nations of Loren, this fateful war was both a trial and an opportunity. Under the pressure of conflict, many countries had been forced into industrial reform. Resources and personnel that once required endless bureaucratic wrangling were now being mobilized efficiently. Armies were growing stronger, technology was advancing, and the alliance… was finally becoming a true alliance.

To be honest, Andersa didn’t believe war was truly a driver of social progress. Though many thought her naturally warlike, as a soldier she understood war for what it was: destruction, not creation. War itself didn’t produce anything good or useful. What really pushed nations forward in wartime was the pressure of life and death, the will to survive, and a shared, righteous belief.

Without those, war only brought decline and ruin.

Sometimes, Andersa felt a strange relief that this world-shaking conflict had erupted between civilization and the wasteland, rather than between two civilized nations locked in a bitter, endless blood feud. Typhon and Cecil had come dangerously close to that abyss. She had stood at the edge of that chasm, narrowly escaping a fate she knew all too well.

“Your studies… were in Cecil?” Andersa asked with curiosity.

“Yes, General,” Marianne replied immediately. “I was among the first noble youths sent to study there…”

“Good,” Andersa smiled. Then, suddenly, her gaze caught a pale yellow flower pinned to the joint of Marianne’s pauldron. It was a small, unassuming bloom—the only soft touch on this fierce, valiant knight. Her eyes lingered on it for a moment. “This flower…?”

“Oh, General, I found it while patrolling outside the camp, tucked in a crack between some stones,” Marianne said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as her voice dropped. “I just thought it was pretty.”

Andersa’s eyes widened slightly.

In the wasteland’s polluted zones, life was nearly extinct. Even moss struggled to survive, let alone a fresh flower like this. The young wolf general couldn’t help but recall the bouquet soldiers had brought back from the Cecil base—a rare splash of life amid the desolation. But she knew this flower couldn’t have come from that living forest. That forest was spreading in the opposite direction, and its boundary was still some distance from the Typhon front.

She spun around sharply, looking toward the towering purification spire at the center of the base. The tall structure emitted a soft glow in the night, but its purification core had yet to fully “awaken.” According to the technicians, it would take at least another twelve hours before the tower could be activated.

Besides, even if the purifier were running, a flower couldn’t bloom in an instant.

“General?” Marianne noticed the strange expression on Andersa’s face and whispered, “Is something wrong?”

“…The barrier wall is starting to take effect.”

Andersa’s voice was low, almost a whisper to herself.

The barrier wall was beginning to influence the environment.

The wasteland’s conditions… were reversing.

(End of chapter)