Chapter 617: Frontlines and Rearguard

Inside the Lunenburg base, Gawain came face to face with the group of kingdom soldiers rescued by Solderin.

Leading them was a man of average build, with short brown hair and a prominent nose—a northerner. He had swapped his battered armor for comfortable clothes provided by the base. Though a trace of exhaustion still lingered on his face, his spirit was clearly much improved.

As Gawain entered the modest barracks, the knight who had narrowly escaped death immediately stood up. Alongside a few soldiers who looked somewhat dazed, he nervously bowed and saluted. “My lord, I am Barnamichel from the royal capital. My men and I are deeply grateful for your generous protection…”

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Michel. I have some questions for you,” Gawain gestured for the knight to sit, taking a chair himself. “First, let me introduce myself—you can probably guess—I am Gawain Cecil.”

This was the legendary knight, once only a figure in tales and history books years ago, now returned from the realm of the dead to reclaim his rule over the southern lands.

The nobles of the capital had all kinds of rumors and speculations about this southern ruler. Most kept their distance out of respect, some saw him as a threat, and a few harbored conspiratorial malice. But nearly everyone agreed on one thing: this legendary pioneer was out of place in this era—carrying the pride of Gondor’s people, the ruggedness of a trailblazer, the savagery of the first nobles, and the inscrutability of one who had returned from death. This was the entire impression Barnamichel had formed of Gawain Cecil within his social circles.

Michel gave a brief, respectful appraisal of the legendary duke before him. Just as his gaze was about to cross the bounds of etiquette, he lowered his eyes and assumed a waiting posture.

The pioneer before him wore no strange, outdated garb, nor did he exude any unsettling aura. He was exactly as the most orthodox histories described: tall, imposing, clad in armor as if forever on the battlefield, his gaze sharp but not cold.

“Are you settling in well here?” Gawain asked.

Michel was caught off guard by the question but quickly replied, “Yes, thank you for providing such comfortable accommodations…”

Clean hot water, tidy rooms, clothes, food, precious medicine—and most importantly, safety. Those who had just escaped death’s door could hardly complain about such conditions.

“Good,” Gawain nodded slightly. “I want to understand more about the ‘crystal cluster infection’ and the final breakout routes of the northern legions…”

…

Outside Pompeii, a temporary camp had been set up.

Barbed wire and rapid-fire gun towers interlaced in layers. Fully armed soldiers stood watch at their posts. Magical detection and alarm devices hummed both inside and outside the camp. Though the camp was small, its formidable defenses made it feel like a fortress bristling with weapons.

There was only one reason for such tight security: this was the site for studying the divine corruption.

Deep within the camp, in a spacious, brightly lit laboratory, Kamail hovered a few inches above the floor. Before him, embedded firmly in a reinforced concrete base, was a cage made of shield generators and steel bars—the core of the lab’s mission.

Inside the cage stood a fully mutated crystal cluster giant, a three-meter-tall humanoid creature that had lost all semblance of humanity.

Unlike the typical “monsters” people imagined, it was not frenzied or violent. On the contrary, its gaze was calm, rational, even detached. It stared silently at the archmage outside the barrier.

“I heard from Pittman that you refuse to speak with ‘weak old-era humans,’” Kamail drifted closer, buzzing softly. “So I came myself—I’m curious: in your view, does my form count as old era?”

The crystal giant remained silent.

“Looks like you still won’t talk. Do you think anyone will come to save you? This place is far from the front lines, and you’re isolated from your malformed brethren…” Kamail continued. “I know you’re rational. You can still think, but your worldview has been replaced. Maybe to you, the crystal cluster infection is the normal life form, and uninfected humans are some kind of disease… But I wonder, after all this transformation, do you still remember your human thoughts? Your human emotions?”

After another long silence, the giant finally spoke, its voice a low tremor: “When the new era arrives, you will realize the flaws of pure flesh and blood—extinction will come naturally. We are helping… you.”

The giant hesitated on the last word, uncertain whether to include the glowing spirit before it in “you.”

No matter how you looked at it, Kamail didn’t seem to have any organs left that could mutate…

Kamail ignored the sensational parts of the giant’s words, focusing his two glowing orbs of arcane light on the mutant. His voice was low: “Your so-called new era is the magical tide, isn’t it?”

The crystal giant remained silent.

“As far as I know, individuals like you with special powers and intact minds are commanders among the crystal giants. The druidic dark magic residue on you suggests you were once a cleric—or martyr—of the Church of All Things’ End.”

“…”

“What rank did you hold in the church? High priest? A lowly withered cleric? Or a forest shepherd?”

“…”

“Where did you get your information about the magical tide?” “Why are you sure this form will survive it?” “Have you heard the word ‘divine corruption’? Do you know what it means?” “Where did you get this transformation technology?”

Kamail’s questions came one after another, but the giant said nothing. After an unbearable silence, Kamail suddenly said, “You know, the Kingdom of Gondor once walked this path—I was part of that plan. I witnessed its failure firsthand. And your so-called evolved form is just the earliest failed prototype we discarded…”

He had hoped these words would stir something in the prisoner, but the crystal giant only looked calmly back. After a moment, it said:

“I’ve heard the southern lands unearthed a fortress from Gondor’s time…

“I am not surprised by your existence.

“But you’re mistaken, ancient mage. Your failure was not due to technical flaws, nor because the path was wrong.

“Your failure was because your rebellion was not thorough enough…”

With that, the crystal giant stepped back twice, settled in the middle of its cage, and refused further conversation.

Kamail tried in vain and finally left the lab, resigned.

Outside, Pittman and several researchers in gray robes had been waiting a long time.

“It said a few things, but revealed almost no useful intelligence,” Kamail sighed to Pittman. “As you suspected, these ‘commander-level’ crystal giants are mostly fanatical martyrs from the Church of All Things’ End. They maintain control over the crystal legions this way, and these zealots are nearly impossible to pry open.”

“As the crystal legions grow, they’ll eventually select new commanders from among the transformed supernaturals. Those commanders should be more talkative—we don’t need to rush,” Pittman said, then noticed Kamail’s unusual expression. “What else did it say? You don’t look well…”

Kamail was surprised. “You can tell by my face?”

“Not your expression, but the color—pretty green right now…”

“Nothing serious. Just that last sentence stuck with me,” Kamail shook his head. “The Church of All Things’ End clearly inherited part of the old ‘rebellion’ plan. They’re continuing it and creating divine corruption. But that crystal giant said they’re even more ‘rebellious’… I don’t understand what that means.”

“More ‘rebellious’?” Pittman raised an eyebrow. Though he was once a member of the church, he clearly didn’t understand their divine corruption plan. “You guys dug up the grave of the nature god, stripped its flesh, and even refined its divine blood and flesh into vaccines for the whole country. How could anyone be more rebellious than you? If they really made a false god, it’s not as rebellious as you guys…”

“So I can’t understand,” Kamail buzzed, then shook his head. “How about your experiments? Any results?”

“After isolating crystal-infected individuals and their commanders, all test subjects showed clear signs of weakening and halted activity. Their remaining cognitive abilities are fading fast. It seems the lower-level infected rely on the commanders to maintain mental function…” Pittman spread his hands and sighed. “In short, there’s no cure—from body to mind, the mutation is irreversible. But those who haven’t mutated yet, just carriers, might still be saved. The latest batch of infected is stable; conventional treatments for plague and curses still work. I’m searching for the most effective purification method and the key trigger that causes carriers to mutate.”

…

In Cecil City, a spring rain washed over the tightly packed rooftops and crisscrossing streets. As dusk fell, the city remained as bustling as daylight.

A sinuous tail curled up the city’s tallest magical broadcast tower, wrapping around the amplifier antenna at its peak. Tyr clung to the steel arcane mechanism, peering out over the distant cityscape, past the glowing lights and the factories running nonstop day and night.

War was spreading far to the north. Though the lands of the Duchy of Cecil remained safe, the conflict’s impact seeped into every corner of life. People began discussing the war in taverns and cafés; newspapers filled with news and commentary from the north. Factories had entered a so-called “wartime state,” operating with unprecedented efficiency.

Countless war machines rolled out of the workshops in long lines, their gears and bearings still warm, roaring to life as they sped toward the front lines. Freshly graduated technicians, medics, and non-commissioned officers from the various academies brimmed with youthful energy, heading off to their posts and the lives that awaited them. Inside the kingdom, untouched by the direct ravages of war, commerce not only continued unhindered but flourished more than ever before. This city, powered by arcane technology, pulsed with vitality and charm—so much so that even the usually indifferent Tyr found her thoughts stirred, her mind drifting to distant dreams of the merfolk’s homeland—

Tyr had never seen the merfolk’s homeland herself. She was a new generation, born after the Antavien’s crash landing on this world. The once-mighty merfolk empire had long since faded after the Great Cataclysm, its former glory a distant memory. Yet, through the teaching machines, fragmented data stored in memory crystals, and the ancient mermaids’ tales of their hazy, far-off past, Tyr had heard more than once about their homeland—

A vibrant world, where oceans covered the entire planet. Beneath the deep, gentle waves, the merfolk’s realm thrived. Machines hummed ceaselessly day and night; AI-controlled cities glittered on the ocean floor. Submarine trains raced through trenches and ridges, while flying vessels burst from the depths to skim the surface. Satellite clusters and orbital stations encircled the planet, gazing down upon that beautiful water world…

Perhaps the merfolk could never truly return.

But Tyr’s gaze shifted to Cecil—the land-dwellers who had their own homes, who were passionately building this place.

Maybe, one day, they would shape this land to be as beautiful as that “water world.”

The lost mermaid drew a quiet breath, parted her lips, and began to sing softly.

Invisible forces wove through her ethereal song, rippling the surrounding magic, vibrating the broadcast tower’s amplifying antenna, stirring Cecil’s arcane network—then, through countless relay towers spanning Cecil, the Black Forest, and the Grant Wall, the vibrations reached the Sentinel Tower, echoed along the Grant Wall.

Her song rode the ripples of space, crossing endless storms and oceans.

Far to the east, in the merfolk city of Antavien, bathed in starlight, a night watch listener stared in surprise as an unfamiliar frequency suddenly flickered across the communicator.

Moments later, a deep-sea attendant swayed her tail and glided into Queen Petia’s chamber—

“Your Majesty! The missing Tide Master has been found. She swam the wrong way on her return and is now on the western continent!

“She’s found human allies there!

“And she wants to know if you’d like some cookies?”

(End of chapter)