Chapter 1397: The Final Stage

The earth still radiated residual heat after the infernal incendiary bombs had scorched it. Deep ravines were stained with dark red molten remnants, and thick smoke billowed upward from the parched, blistering ground. The choking haze carried a nauseating mix of odors—the decomposing bodies of mutants disintegrating into the air, the stench of charred flesh from synthetic beasts, and the acrid tang of magical energy waste reacting with the atmosphere.

Without a full set of protective armor and a gentle wind shield, even a single breath on this flame-ravaged battlefield would feel like plunging into an abyss.

Findel Wilde led his soldiers swiftly across the battlefield beside a ravine. The protective runes embedded in their armor filtered out the intense heat and toxic gases, but even so, when his eyes swept over the scorched marks burned into the earth by living fire elementals, a wave of heat surged from deep within him. He furrowed his brow and glanced toward the horizon, where a strange purple-black mist hovered at the battlefield’s edge. Faint, distorted howls echoed from within the fog, and beyond it, near the hazy skyline, loomed a dark, ominous “mountain range.”

Looking closer, Findel could see countless intricate structures slowly undulating and swaying across the surface of this “mountain.” Its overall shape subtly shifted, trembling and vibrating in a constant, low rumble—signs of the “mountain” stirring.

“Sir,” a soldier’s voice came from behind him, “do you think… that thing has noticed us?”

“Impossible, right?” Another soldier nearby spoke nervously before Findel could answer. “We’re so far away, and we’re so small… To that thing, a normal human must be like a grain of sand. Can anyone really spot a single grain of sand on the ground from a hundred meters away?”

“My aunt can,” Findel said, glancing at the soldier. “When she’s bored, she’ll stand on the balcony and name a single grain of sand in the garden. Then she blows it away with a gust of wind and finds it again. As a legendary mage, she uses this to train her mental focus.”

The soldier was left speechless, but Findel shook his head. “Still, even if that thing has noticed us, I doubt it cares. Like you said, we’re just dust to it. And this battlefield is swarming with millions of such dust particles, each one desperate to end it. Its attention is fixed on the Deep Blue Well—it probably doesn’t even notice us insignificant specks.”

“True enough… It doesn’t need to notice us. The mutants and bio-synthetic beasts gathered around it are already enough to give us a headache,” the first soldier said with a bitter smile. “And we still have to set up ground communication stations near their activity zones on this scorched battlefield. Hopefully, the purification devices can keep those abominations at bay.”

“Enough talk. Let’s get to work.” Findel muttered and led the way forward. Before crossing the next ravine, he couldn’t help but glance once more toward the direction of the “living mountain.”

That staggering, monstrous bio-construct stretched across the horizon like a disaster incarnate. Not far ahead of it, the ground was covered by a faintly glowing pale blue “eggshell”—the last line of defense for the Deep Blue Well. The grotesque, malformed “Creeping Catastrophe” was greedily crouched before the well, like a starving beast eyeing a feast. Countless minions swarmed the vast battlefield around it, as numerous as mountains and seas.

Findel could only see a corner of this massive battlefield, but he knew fierce battles raged across the land known as the Talash Plains. Allied forces from every nation on the Loren Continent had entered this ancient land, clashing fiercely with mutants and synthetic beasts, pushing forward their lines, constructing purification devices—struggling to relieve the pressure on the Deep Blue Well.

But to the mountain-sized “Creeping Catastrophe” itself, most conventional mortal troops posed little threat. The only real opposition came from the airborne fortress advancing from the western front into the Talash Plains.

The colossal flying fortress moved beneath the cloud base, heavy radioactive clouds trailing behind it like a rock layer pressed overhead. Flashes of light occasionally streaked through the clouds—discharges caused by centuries of accumulated magical energy piercing the atmospheric equilibrium. The Gorgon Sky Fortress escorted the Dawn of the Mortal World like a guardian beast, flanked by countless dragon riders, dragonborn, and giant dragon warriors soaring through the skies around the fortress like a swarm.

Inside the command hall of the Dawn of the Mortal World, a massive holographic projection displayed real-time scenes from various fronts. Jenna Prince stood at the command platform, her eyes fixed intently on the images. At the center of all the screens appeared Duke Bertram Franklin, leading the main ground forces. Behind him stretched the scorched earth burned by incendiary bombs, and a towering metallic spire rose from the surface.

“We’ve secured the hills northwest of Talash. The purification devices are activating,” Duke Bertram reported rapidly. “How are things on your end? Any movement from the Creeping Catastrophe?”

“It’s stopped very close to the Deep Blue Well. Its internal energy reactions are unstable,” Jenna Prince said, glancing at another hologram—an image captured by the Dawn’s long-range optical sensors. “We’re closing in, but it doesn’t seem to be reacting… The supercritical accelerators are ready. We’ll fire as soon as we’re in range.”

“All units have coordinated,” Duke Bertram nodded. “Ground forces will withdraw to a safe distance. Once you begin the attack, all purification towers will enter charging mode and attempt to close the barrier wall. Commander Jenna, this charging process is irreversible. We must succeed on the first try—the enemy won’t give us a second chance.”

“We never had room for failure,” Jenna said softly. Then she turned to the officer beside her, her expression grave. “Shut down production modules. Divert all power to shields and weapons. Escort squadrons, return to fortress hangars. Unlock all supercritical accelerators. Increase speed to advance 3.”

“Yes, Commander!” the soldier responded loudly. Deep within the Dawn of the Mortal World, a low hum rose—the roar of the massive power spine redirecting energy. Then a faint vibration rippled from the deck’s edge as all shield generators activated in unison. The colossal flying fortress gathered its full might. Twelve supercritical accelerators along its edges opened their protective barriers, their long acceleration tracks pointing toward the distant horizon.

Almost simultaneously, a chilling sensation swept across the battlefield.

The “living mountain” in the distance seemed to awaken from slumber. It froze for a moment, then thousands of tendrils suddenly shot skyward. Countless pale eyes bloomed at their tips, all fixed unblinkingly on the Dawn of the Mortal World. Amid this blatant malice and murderous intent, the fortress’s central AI sounded the highest-level alarm. An officer stared at the data on his console and shouted, “Target’s internal energy reaction is spiking sharply!”

…

In the vast, endless gray-white desert, a fierce wind suddenly swept across the world. Countless pale grains of sand were whipped high into the air, then fell like a torrential rain around the crumbling, toppled throne. The wind died down, and the black tome resting atop the pillar before the throne abruptly awoke from its slumber.

Known as “Wilde’s Travels,” the tome stared in shock at the sky. For the first time, colors other than black, white, and gray appeared in this shadowed world—a series of shocking, eerie dark red streaks rising from the silhouette of a distant black city, stretching all the way to the desert’s far edge, covering the entire sky above the gray-white sands.

These dark red bands looked like wounds torn open in the sky. As Wilde watched, they began to twist and writhe, and drops of dark red liquid, like blood rain, seeped from them, falling toward the endless shadowy dust below. Strange cries echoed on the wind—sometimes like a baby’s wail, sometimes like a beast’s roar. This terrifying upheaval and deeply unsettling vision made the “Modir’s Travels” cry out in alarm, “Good heavens—my lady, what is happening?!”

On the ruined, toppled throne stood a woman as massive as a mountain, her form like a gathering storm cloud. She opened her eyes—amber orbs fixed unflinchingly on the direction of the black city silhouette. The blood rain fell through her gaze, but before touching the ground, the droplets seemed caught by an invisible force and flew back up into the sky. This eerie cycle repeated over the desert, while the cries carried on the wind grew ever more desperate and piercing.

“I don’t know…” the Lady of Night lowered her head and glanced at the black tome on the pillar. “That thing is restless… It seems to want to leave this place.”

“What do we do then?!” The voice of Modir’s Travels trembled with panic. Though once the greatest adventurer in the world, this sudden upheaval was beyond his experience. “Hasn’t it been lingering here for centuries? Its goal has always been your throne—how could this suddenly…”

“The cause is unknown, but I suspect something has gone awry in the mortal realm,” the massive figure before the throne intoned in a deep voice. As He spoke, the enormous black-and-white scepter materialized in His hand. Meanwhile, in the distance, the silhouette of a black city began to shift, revealing a colossal, formless mass of flesh and countless limbs—a ‘star of blood and flesh’ floating through the air, gradually ascending higher into the sky.

Lady Night descended from her throne. The blood rain falling from the heavens was halted midair by an invisible force, freezing in place before dissipating as she advanced.

“The reason doesn’t matter. But this ‘guest’ wants to leave… and it won’t be that easy,” Lady Night’s voice echoed with solemn authority across the land. She approached the floating ‘star of blood and flesh,’ the scepter now resting on her shoulder. This fierce, battle-ready posture was the first time the ‘Modir Chronicles’ had ever witnessed her like this. “For all these years, it wasn’t trapped by it… but rather, I trapped it.”

…

A terrifying howl tore through the sky above the Talash Plains. In that fleeting moment, nearly every magic-sensitive superhuman on the battlefield felt as if a heavy iron hammer had slammed into their chest—their magical energy violently shaken, rippling swiftly across the field. The aberrations halted their assault; the thick mist hovering over the earth stilled. In the blink of an eye, everything fell silent.

Findel Wilde, stationed at the front lines, looked up in shock toward the horizon. Above the monstrous ‘living mountain,’ eerie beams of light suddenly blossomed silently. The next instant, several dark red ‘magic missiles’ charged upward, streaking straight toward another point in the sky.

Then, the world seemed to resume its flow—the roar of battle, soldiers’ shouts, and the blaring of comms flooded his ears like a rising tide.

The final phase had begun.

A piercing alarm blared throughout the command hall. Tiny bubbles formed within the container housing the central AI. Deep within the Dawn of the Mortal Realm, surging energy rumbled, causing the command floor to tremble faintly. Jina watched as the surveillance feed was suddenly overtaken by massive static interference. Moments later, several black-and-red shadows tore across the distant sky, plummeting like doomsday meteors onto the Dawn’s massive protective shield.

In an instant, a shrill screech echoed over the entire space fortress. The shield’s surface rippled violently; the entire bastion shook, creaking and groaning as if it might collapse at any second.

Yet the fortress-grade shield held firm. The violent fluctuations caused by the dark red magic missiles gradually subsided. Residual streams of light cascaded down the shield’s surface like rain. Steadying herself amid the shaking, Jina called out loudly to the nearby soldiers, “Report damage status!”

“Three shield generator units have overloaded—but the impact is weaker than previous data suggested. It seems the ‘Creeping Calamity’s’ magic missiles lose power over this distance.”

“What about the supercritical accelerator? Is it in range?”

“Not yet, still a little more…” The weapons system operator’s voice came from below the command platform. After a brief pause, the young man shouted, “In range! Beginning calibration!”

“Once calibration is complete, fire half the payload. Max out all sensor power and monitor any changes. The Gorgon Fortress is on standby at both flanks,” Jina gripped the railing tightly, eyes locked on the horizon where the now ‘awakened’ Creeping Calamity loomed. “We’ll fight it right here.”

(End of chapter)