Chapter 1398: Radiance

The Supercritical Accelerator—this season’s most devastating weapon ever created by human civilization—relies on projecting a solid “projectile” through a magical field at speeds surpassing even the fastest missiles. At the instant it halts, it unleashes a terrifying burst of energy that obliterates its target. Its destructive power is raw and brutal, yet the underlying principles are intricate and subtle. In fact, even its creators could only theoretically explain how the Supercritical Accelerator destroys matter after the emergence of the “Unified Wave Model.” They could not record the exact parameters or the precise damage process of that instantaneous release in any form.

What was known was that when the supercritical projectile hurtles through the natural magical field at extreme velocity, it accumulates around itself a compressed, terrifying “energy bubble.” The moment it stops, this bubble bursts forth. According to the Unified Wave Model, this violent release of magic briefly pierces the boundary between reality and illusion, destabilizing the molecular structure of matter within range, causing it to “evaporate” in the physical world. This process further releases energy, generating a massive shockwave.

Upon its debut, this immensely powerful weapon was hailed by enthusiasts of explosive firepower. With sufficient budget, Rebecca had Ilaven accelerators built aboard the Dawn of the Mortal World, adding to the original prototype for a total of twelve “super cannons”—the maximum the airborne fortress could carry.

But it wasn’t just the Dawn of the Mortal World. Due to a clerical slip that somehow got approved, Rebecca gleefully installed an accelerator on every Gorgon-class ship as well. She had originally planned to mount two per vessel, but the Gorgon’s energy matrix had limited redundancy; supporting even one accelerator was already pushing its limits.

The first wave of attack was not a full salvo. To assess damage, identify enemy weaknesses, and guard against possible countermeasures from the “Creeping Disaster,” the Dawn of the Mortal World fired only half its accelerators initially, ordering the surrounding Gorgon fleet to hold position.

The sky thundered with a deafening roar, reverberating across the heavens. Ground forces witnessed six consecutive flashes of light erupting from the edges of the flying city. The projectiles moved faster than even the most powerful supernaturals could track visually, appearing as straight beams of concentrated energy—like spears brimming with force—striking the “living mountain range” at the edge of the Deep Blue Well.

Of course, the Creeping Disaster did not ignore such an obvious threat. One second before the Dawn of the Mortal World fired, a thick energy shield materialized over the corrupted, blasphemous mass of flesh. The six accelerators slammed almost simultaneously into the shield’s surface. This godlike flesh construct revealed its formidable power: accelerators capable of leveling small hills were repeatedly blocked by the shield until the fourth shot finally shattered it.

The shield’s surface rippled with interference patterns before exploding into a shower of light particles. The fifth and sixth projectiles pierced through the scattering debris, striking the Creeping Disaster’s surface directly. Blinding white spheres erupted at the impact points.

The creature’s “skin” convulsed violently. Though it could shut down its sense of pain, the natural biological response to injury could not be suppressed. Around the impact zones, countless blood vessels burst from sudden pressure changes. Thick, dark skin cracked open like deep canyons, spewing forth dark red blood vapor mixed with shredded tissue fragments torn by the shockwave. The scene was as spectacular as a cluster of volcanoes erupting simultaneously.

Yet for a mountain-sized entity like the Creeping Disaster, these surface “volcanoes” were far from fatal.

“Impact confirmed!” an observer in the Dawn of the Mortal World’s control hall reported loudly, voice tinged with tension. “Four shots blocked by the shield, two hit the target. The target remains highly active and has begun regeneration. Damage from the first wave… is very unsatisfactory. No structural weaknesses detected.”

Gina Prince’s expression darkened. The situation was as thorny as she had anticipated. The Supercritical Accelerator’s power was immense, but her enemy was colossal in scale and astonishingly regenerative. The Creeping Disaster’s hundreds-of-kilometers-long “limbs” and lack of specific weak points were its best defense against such “high-power killer weapons.”

But that was fine. If one wave wasn’t enough, they’d fire more. The Creeping Disaster bled—and anything that bled could be killed.

“Reload accelerators. Order the Gorgon fleet: full salvo in thirty seconds,” Gina commanded loudly. “If no weak points are found, forget about them. Sweep the target from end to end. Aside from its massive size, its local defenses don’t warrant wasting more than two accelerators per section.”

“Yes, Commander… Target showing high-energy reaction!”

In the brief interval, the Creeping Disaster had already recovered from the limited damage of the previous bombardment. It raised thousands of eye stalks across its surface, forming a dense “jungle.” Then, several glowing concave structures split open between the stalks. Massive dark red spheres shot out from these biological cannon chambers, hurtling skyward like meteors blazing in reverse.

This time, its attack targeted only the Dawn of the Mortal World. Even as the Gorgon escort fleet around it began to show intense energy reactions, the Creeping Disaster remained undeterred, pouring all its power into the largest airborne fortress overhead. Whether this was some form of intelligence or mere instinct was hard to say.

Andersa Wendel stood on the ground, watching this mythic battle unfold between heaven and earth: flying fortresses clashing with crawling calamity, thunder raining from the sky, and hellfire rising from the earth. The scene could have been lifted straight from any religious tapestry without seeming out of place—yet it was the work of mortal hands.

Though the battle between the Dawn of the Mortal World fleet and the Creeping Disaster was far from the Typhon forces’ front lines, its immense scale allowed nearly two-thirds of the Deep Blue Well battlefield to witness the confrontation. Andersa didn’t know what ordinary soldiers would think upon seeing such a mythic spectacle, but she understood one thing clearly: this vision would leave an indelible mark on any soldier who believed in gods.

Some would find it hard ever again to pray with the same reverent fear they once had. The ancient sages who created the original myths had imagined gods with such grandeur, and now, in this era, humanity was finally touching that “boundary.” But these were not the thoughts a frontline commander like Andersa should dwell on.

A low hum rose behind her, growing from a murmur to a roar, like a giant stirring from slumber. Andersa turned to see the frontline purification tower her troops had recently erected glowing faintly under the murky dawn light. Its upper purification core and rune arrays were lighting up one by one.

This was the second purification tower built by the Winter Wolf Knights after entering the Talash Plains, and the last on this Typhon-controlled front. It marked the end of the blockade wall. According to theoretical calculations, the resonance generated by activating this tower along with the other “terminal towers” would cover the entire Deep Blue Well region, completing the closure of the blockade.

The activation of the terminal towers meant the final moment had arrived. Andersa lifted her communication crystal, infused it with magic, and spoke steadily: “This is the Typhon Winter Wolf Knights. Eastern terminal tower activated.”

“Received. This is the First Legion of Cecil. Northern terminal tower activated,” came Philip’s voice through the crystal.

“This is the Augure Allied Forces. Western terminal tower activated…” “Southern Allied Forces, our terminal tower is online…”

Messages from commanders across the fronts arrived one after another. The purification towers’ radiance pierced the seven-century-old chaotic gloom hanging over the Talash Plains. After all four terminal towers were activated, a magnetic yet authoritative female voice came through the crystal: “This is the ‘High Tower.’ Terminal towers detected online. Beginning calibration of all blockade wall nodes across the wasteland. Please hold fast until victory.”

The voice was unfamiliar; many mid- and low-ranking officers didn’t even know the codename “High Tower” existed in this joint operation. Yet a faint smile tugged at Andersa’s lips. She looked up to see the purification tower behind her erupting with unprecedented brilliance. In the distance, under the dim dawn light, more beams of light ignited, near and far…

A subtle tremor came from afar. Boundless malice and murderous intent surrounded the position beneath her feet. The howls of mutants and bio-synthetic beasts rolled across the land. Andersa drew her knight’s sword, knowing the corrupted creatures were thoroughly enraged. The energy field released by the terminal towers was steadily compressing the monsters’ last refuge. In response, they would unleash their full fury in a desperate assault against every mortal defense line on the Talash Plains.

“For our survival!”

Gawain sat quietly in the frontline command post, his face shrouded in shadow like a frozen statue. Amber stood beside him, a sentinel on watch. Though her petite frame hardly commanded “guard’s authority,” every general and soldier who saw her knew the emperor must not be disturbed at this moment.

Gawain’s consciousness transcended his physical form, slowly rising until he stood among the stars. He gazed down upon the earth, seeing points of light piercing the darkness.

The wasteland’s core remained shrouded in thick, murky clouds. Powerful energy interference rendered even advanced satellite surveillance blind to the chaos below. Yet within this darkness, he saw several brilliant lights piercing the gloom like swords thrust skyward. Beyond these, many previously dim lights brightened one after another, stretching like a great wall across the wasteland, extending toward the edges of the civilized world.

He knew that Mirmirna had already begun “tuning” the barrier wall. She was making rounds between the towering spires, transforming all her observations and calculations of the wasteland over the past few months into the precise parameters needed to operate the barrier.

This task could be accomplished by mortals themselves, given enough manpower and resources. But as the mastermind behind the entire barrier project, no one was better suited for this work than Mirmirna herself.

A god, fighting as a mortal, in mortal form, on a mortal battlefield—not bound by idol worship or chains of faith, but walking shoulder to shoulder. Somewhere deep down, Gawain felt as if he had grasped a crucial truth.

“Communication signal received.”

A voice suddenly echoed inside Gawain’s mind—a prompt he had never heard before. Yet, after a brief moment of surprise, he found himself calmer than he expected. He accepted the signal.

For the first few seconds after connecting, there was only silence. Still, Gawain waited patiently, wondering what the voice might say. When it finally broke the quiet, the words caught him off guard: “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Gawain was silent for two seconds. He hadn’t expected to feel so calm and composed. “Are you referring to this planet? Or the civilization on it? Or the scene you’ve created here?”

“All of it,” the voice replied softly, as if layered with two tones at once. “Birth, flourishing, decline—everything is a cycle. If civilization itself is beautiful, then its demise is beautiful as well.”

“…Your demise is no different.”

“You’re starting to take on mortal traits, Sky. But that’s fine—we’re all trapped in this abyss,” the sentinel’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “I can sense you’re waiting for my destruction. But you know well enough that you can’t strike your own ‘kin’ directly. As for me… I’ve prepared many surprises for your ‘toys.’”

Then the signal vanished, as ghostly and sudden as it had appeared.

On the ground, north of the Deep Blue Well, the intense energy shock from the second round of supercritical accelerator strikes was gradually fading. Deep within the scorching interference clouds, the massive, writhing calamity’s body was scarred with searing “chasms” and burnt “scars.”

It seemed to have quieted down.

“Is it… down?” a technical sergeant muttered inside the control hall. “Just like that?”

Jenna Prince stared intently at the holographic display. She caught the sergeant’s murmuring and furrowed her brow. “Don’t relax just yet. It shouldn’t be this easy. That thing…”

Before she could finish, something changed abruptly.

An astonishing energy reaction flared again within the blood-and-flesh behemoth crawling beside the Deep Blue Well!

Damaged limbs rapidly healed. Organs that had vaporized under overload regrew from the flesh reserves. Across the dark, polluted surface of the “living mountain,” new depressions—signatures of biological cannons—appeared once more, pulsing with even stronger magical energy than before. Between the flickering black-and-red streams of electricity, a faint, flowing blue flame shimmered.

“Target still alive! Target still alive! High energy reaction detected!”

(End of chapter)