Chapter 634: The Extended Line of Defense
A hazy, chaotic sky hung over a dull, colorless land. The drained hues of the landscape rendered everything flat and lifeless, tinged with an indescribable eeriness. A gentle breeze stirred up fine black dust, and within the swirling particles, countless watchful eyes seemed to peer out from the shadows. Victoria stood amid this stark black-and-white world, her usually cold and detached expression betraying a flicker of surprise.
The source of her astonishment stood right beside her: a half-elf with a personality far too lively for this somber realm. Amber wore a smug grin, her long black hair drifting like smoke in the air. Her golden eyes sparkled with amusement, and from her waist down, a swirling cloud of dark shadows clung to her form, as if she had become a sprite of the shadow realm itself—seamlessly blending into this monochrome world.
“…Incredible power,” Victoria murmured after watching Amber for a few moments, her voice low with admiration. “You’re the most powerful shadow master I’ve ever seen. No wonder the Shadow Raven lost to you twice. Clearly, none of Duke Cecil’s men are ordinary.”
“Feel free to flatter me some more,” Amber chuckled proudly. “It’s rare anyone praises me like that. By the way, that Shadow Raven you mentioned—I remember him. The one I kicked out of the shadow realm twice, right? You should tell him to consider switching to a two-handed sword or a polehammer. The shadow path might not be his thing…”
Anyone who knew Amber well understood that once she started rambling, she’d quickly veer off-topic, and few of her words held much meaning. Victoria, however, was still adjusting to the half-elf’s erratic rhythm and found herself momentarily at a loss, unsure how to steer the conversation forward. Fortunately, Amber’s chatter came in bursts; when met with silence, she simply jumped to another thought.
Stretching and flexing, Amber glanced toward a half-ruined castle in the distance—a bizarre, jumbled structure—and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, as if plotting a heist: “No time to waste. Let’s get to work. That’s the shadow reflection of Tulip Keep over there.”
Victoria lifted her gaze to the castle at the end of the road. Black-and-white fragments piled atop the gray-black earth, broken walls and crumbled battlements still revealed faint outlines of the fortress. In this twisted, chaotic shadow realm, the half-destroyed Tulip Keep looked like a failed painting—its parts either stripped of texture or unnaturally overlapping in defiance of physics. Only the intact mage’s tower and a few adjoining turrets stood clearly at the rear.
This was Victoria’s first time entering the shadow realm. As a frost mage, her knowledge of shadow magic was mostly theoretical. This strange, eerie world opened her eyes and deepened her respect for Amber’s formidable shadow skills. She followed closely behind, aided by spells like Haste and Wind’s Favor, and couldn’t help but ask, “Why do you serve Duke Cecil?”
Amber moved through the shadows like a fish in water, black smoke billowing wildly around her. Hearing Victoria’s question, she tilted her head with a teasing smile. “What, trying to poach me?”
Victoria shook her head solemnly. “No. That’s not how nobles operate. If I wanted to hire you, I’d negotiate directly with Duke Cecil and consult you in a formal setting. I’m just curious.”
“Ah, straightforward and honest… but Old Zong—Gawain—is different,” Amber laughed. “If he wants talent, especially the kind you can’t get through official channels, he’ll use every trick—bribery, propaganda, manipulation. Nothing’s off-limits.”
Victoria felt the conversation slipping again and shook her head. “Our methods differ.”
“Exactly why I’m better suited to Gawain’s side, not with ‘proper’ nobles like you,” Amber said casually. “You asked why I follow Duke Cecil? Honestly, I dug up his grave once, got caught, and ended up stuck with him. I was just hiding out.”
Victoria stared, stunned, as if trying to decide if Amber was joking.
“Believe it or not, it’s true,” Amber said nonchalantly. “At first, I was annoyed—planned to pretend to agree, then steal Gawain’s money and run. But then I realized: I couldn’t win, and I couldn’t escape. So I stayed. Turns out, that was the right call—my pay went up the next year.”
Victoria listened impassively, but the slight flicker in her eyes betrayed a deeper reaction. She looked Amber in the eye and said as calmly as she could, “I’ve never heard anyone describe their loyalty to a noble quite like that. You’re… unique.”
Amber suddenly stopped and fixed Victoria with a steady gaze. “Duchess, you’re mistaken. I’ve never truly been loyal to Gawain Cecil. I’ve never pledged allegiance to any noble or their bloodline.”
Victoria’s cool facade cracked, surprise flashing across her face.
“I’m no noble descendant. Half my power is innate, the other half comes from a thief executed by the church and nobility working together. I have no right to swear loyalty to nobles—I don’t even have a surname. And I don’t need that right,” Amber said evenly. “At first, Gawain paid me one gold coin a month, so I was responsible for that coin. Then the pay rose, so I took responsibility for the raise. Later, he founded Cecil City, unified the Kant region, freed serfs through labor redemption, let commoners walk the roads freely, and stopped merchants from kowtowing to knights. I liked all that. My job was to maintain it, so I took responsibility for my work.
“Then he established the Duchy of Cecil, where citizens could read and work. From the year before last to last year, no one starved in Cecil City’s winters. That’s when I pledged my loyalty—quietly, in my heart—to the Duchy of Cecil.
“Duchess, I’m not a noble. Even if Gawain someday gave me a title, I’d never fit your rigid standards. I don’t owe loyalty to Duke Cecil, his family, or any so-called noble bloodline or title. Though I respect every member of the Cecil family because they deserve it, I don’t serve them, and they’ve never demanded it.
“If anything, we share one common loyalty—we’re loyal to what Gawain Cecil has built, not to the man himself.
“Lady, if you can’t see the difference, I’m afraid we’ll never be on the same path.”
Victoria regarded the half-elf quietly. Since entering the shadow realm, Amber seemed changed—not just in aura but in character. Yet her words rang true, reflecting her genuine beliefs.
“I will try to understand,” Victoria said calmly.
“That’s your problem,” Amber replied. “Honestly, I don’t like nobles—most of them, anyway. But recently, I’ve found two exceptions: you, and Belk, who lit the beacon fires.” She turned and quickened her pace. “I used to think noble talk of honor was all bragging, but at least from you, I see something real. Still, Duchess, individuals don’t represent the whole. I don’t like nobles as a group.”
Victoria matched Amber’s stride, falling into a brief silence. She neither defended the noble system nor tried to explain the meaning of lineage to this half-elf who clearly harbored deep prejudice against nobles. Though she once cared deeply about such things, now she felt no urge to justify them.
After a moment, she asked, “In the past two winters, did no one starve in Cecil City?”
“Of course not. We have comprehensive population records—every birth and death is logged.”
“How did you manage that without a noble system?”
“You mean food supply or population management?”
“Both.”
“Oh, that’s a long story,” Amber said, glancing at the crumbling castle ahead. “Maybe we should start with the relationship between land and people…”
On the northern plains beyond Red Maple City, by the Gorgon River, Gawain stood atop a watchtower at the frontline camp, watching the bustling activity at the docks.
Artillery fire and raging flames had cleansed the corruption from this stretch of land. The Cecil Legion had seized a large dock once owned by a local lord. After urgent repairs, the engineers widened the roadways and reinforced the stone piers, transforming the site into a temporary military port. Tanks rolled in neat formations toward the strengthened docks, while fully armed soldiers queued to board ships.
On the river, three main Cecil warships patrolled near the docks, while a flotilla of escort gunboats—converted from civilian vessels—and light artillery ships rushed back and forth across the wide waterway. Several sturdy, broad-decked ships were moored alongside the piers, loaded with soldiers and armored vehicles.
The cargo ships, which looked nothing like warships, were retrofitted military transports pulled from the rear lines. Though called “military,” their modifications were minimal: extra steel plating on key hull sections, shield generators welded onto the frame, and magic network terminals installed in the holds to link with the Pathfinder. They lacked basic weaponry, as adding guns would require extensive engine overhauls beyond the shipyard’s capacity. Their safety depended entirely on escort warships.
Originally intended to evacuate refugees from the northern region, these “armored transports” began conversion as ground forces advanced north. But by the time they were ready, Gawain found few refugees remained in the contaminated zone. Instead, the ships were repurposed to ferry supplies to the front. Today, they faced a new mission: sailing with the Cecil fleet, fully loaded with tanks and troops, to the Saint Suniel defensive line—to hold that vital gateway.
The troops moving north along the Gorgon River would reach Saint Suniel several days ahead of the main ground force.
Footsteps approached from behind. Philip climbed up to the lookout post, saluted Gawain, and reported, “The Steel Rangers have already escorted Duchess Victoria and Amber near Tulip Castle. The scouts confirmed that the mage tower is still operational. If all goes well, the message will be sent to Saint Suniel today.”
“Good,” Gawain nodded. “By the time they return, the ships here should be nearly loaded. We can set sail right away.”
Philip hesitated for a moment, then couldn’t help but ask again, “Are you really going with them in person?”
Gawain chuckled. “I’ve come this far. What’s a little farther north?”
“But this vanguard unit’s mission is grueling and dangerous,” Philip pressed. “To reinforce the capital quickly, they have to break away from the main force. Once they reach Saint Suniel, they’ll be isolated—fighting alone for at least five days without rear support. Worst case, if Saint Suniel falls before they arrive, the vanguard will be dropped straight into the heart of the monster’s encirclement. Even with the Pioneer, Aurora, and Morning Star providing cover for their retreat, the losses would be devastating.”
“That’s exactly why they need a strong ground commander,” Gawain said, glancing at Philip. “You have to stay behind to lead the main corps. The rest is on me.”
“…That makes sense.”
“I’ll head to Saint Suniel first to organize the defenses. With three battleships providing fire support, the north will hold,” Gawain said with a smile, patting Philip on the shoulder. “You just keep pushing forward as planned. Set up coastal defenses to stop the monsters from spreading further along the west shore. In the end, we’ll meet at Saint Suniel—closing the blockade line.”
He exhaled softly, then added quietly, “As for whether the capital falls before then… Victoria firmly believes Bertram and Wales can hold Saint Suniel. I’ll trust her on that, just this once.”
(End of chapter)