Chapter 694: A Brush with the Blade

A dazzling white orb of light tore through the darkness, streaking upward through the wind and rain. Against the backdrop of heavy, brooding clouds, it suddenly exploded, blossoming into a bright sphere visible even from miles away.

In the northwest sector of the Paramel Highlands, concealed by terrain and dense forest, a massive, imposing war machine lay dormant on its tracks. Sheets of rain hammered against its dark armored plates, while flashes from Typhon’s signal flares danced across the wet steel, casting fleeting glimmers.

The Iron Throne had extinguished all major external lights, and opaque shields sealed the windows of every carriage. In the dim gloom, only a handful of faint signal lights flickered on the surface, their glow barely perceptible beyond a hundred meters, swallowed by the rain and the darkening sky.

Inside the armored train’s tactical command compartment, a commander approached Philip. “The Typhon Vanguard Knights have sent a signal.”

“They’re signaling the waiting superhuman legions in the rear,” Philip replied calmly. “Alert the armory section to prepare. All main cannons, target the eastern plains of Changfeng Fortress.”

“Yes, General.”

Philip turned back toward the nearby holographic projection. Hovering above the softly glowing blue crystal was a live feed from the external surveillance cameras.

The rain intensified, the sky darkened further, and the cold wind whipped the downpour across this borderland.

Thanks to the rain, the Iron Throne had reached its designated position in the northwest Paramel Highlands half an hour ago and had since gone silent, waiting patiently until now.

Night was falling amid the storm.

Now, all that remained was to wait for the Typhon superhuman legions to enter the buffer plains—whether the Iron River Knights or the Black Steel Knights. Once they charged in formation, they would be too occupied to raise shields or defend against the Iron Throne’s main battery. The combined bombardment from the four fortress-grade main cannons, along with the light and medium mage cannons currently installed at Changfeng Fortress, would cut down any legion before they could reach the walls.

“It’s a shame the rain’s hampering our reconnaissance,” an officer nearby lamented. “The armored griffins can’t take flight in this weather. Otherwise, we’d have a clearer picture of Typhon’s movements.”

“Typhon’s forces are even more affected than we are,” Philip said. “At least we have the watchtowers along the Changfeng line. They only have griffins grounded by the storm. Let’s be patient and wait for the fortress’s signal. Don’t overthink it.”

Though he said this, Philip couldn’t help but feel a stir of unease after hearing his subordinate’s complaint.

The armored griffin was a compromise between traditional troops and mage technology, but its inherent limitations had already set the ceiling for that compromise. The war on the Holy Spirit Plains had proven the decisive role of air power. Rumor had it that the Mage Research Institute was now developing fully modern, technology-based flying machines… but how long before those left the lab was anyone’s guess.

Far to the west, on the Triangle Plains near Winterwolf Castle, magical flames flared, illuminating the rain-soaked armor and weapons of the knights. Amid the flickering light, Count Moglock, commander of the Iron River Knights, swung himself into the saddle. The clank of armor was the only sound in the silent order.

Gazing steadily at the magical glow spreading through the clouds on the horizon, Count Moglock slowly raised his longsword. His command echoed through the ranks: “All units—Third formation, quicken pace, advance!”

Not a single knight uttered a sound, but every rider and mount responded simultaneously. The thunder of thousands of hooves filled the air as the massive formation began to move forward.

Under the dark, heavy sky, the silent knights resembled six thousand statues arranged in perfect order, gradually accelerating in unison. Their finely crafted, enchanted steel armor gleamed with a somber hue in the rain, as dark as ink. Only when lightning split the sky did the metal flash with a light distinct from mud and puddles, as if the Iron River itself surged silently and solemnly.

As the formation quickened, the ever-present flow of magical energy surged sharply. This vast power was channeled by thousands of knights who had trained, studied, and lived together since childhood. Slowly, a vague, high-energy cloud began to coalesce above the ranks, its leading edge pointing toward Changfeng Fortress.

Behind the knights, a second force began to advance. This unit wore no metal armor, but the magical light flickering in their eyes made it clear they were no less formidable. Clad in blue-black robes, each carried a mage’s short sword and a mass-produced spellbook at their waist, wielding sturdy oak staves. Black banners fluttered wildly above their ranks, whipped by wind and rain.

Count Parindorf of Winterwolf Castle, draped in a starry mage’s robe, raised his staff high. “Black Banner Mages, forward!”

Unlike the slow-moving mages many imagined on the battlefield, the Typhon Empire’s combat mages underwent rigorous equestrian training—along with defensive swordsmanship and physical conditioning. Since soldier-mages typically mastered only one to three combat spells, this extra training was essential to ensure they could function effectively in battle.

With such preparation, the skilled mage regiment could move in step with the knights—unless the latter charged, the mages would maintain pace, providing continuous ranged support.

Andersah couldn’t see the Iron River Knights’ movements, but she knew that once the signal was sent, both the Iron River Knights and the Black Banner Mages had already set out.

The Cecil forces at Changfeng Fortress might have received intelligence about the Empire’s advance, but how were they preparing to face the impending legion-scale magical assault?

The once-steel-strong Eastern Legion was no more. The cunning Selas Loren was rumored missing on the Holy Spirit Plains battlefield. With only a shaky contingent of Cecil soldiers, there was no way they could hold Changfeng Fortress… If they could, they wouldn’t have bothered setting up so many fake positions around the fortress to deceive us.

Andersah brushed aside the rain with a wave of her hand, inwardly grateful that her advisors had spotted the anomalies in the Cecil positions in time. Otherwise, the Empire’s troops might still be fooled by those empty ruses, and the Empire would have missed its best chance to break open the Ansu… the Cecil gateway.

But as she pondered this, a sudden doubt crept into the young wolf general’s mind, causing her brow to furrow.

Fake positions couldn’t truly hold the border. That was obvious. The Cecils knew it too.

Their purpose in creating these decoys was clearly to buy time…

Buying time likely meant the Cecils did have reinforcements—this wasn’t an empty bluff. Their reinforcements just needed time to reach the border.

It had been a long time since the first suspicious “reinforcements” appeared at Changfeng Fortress. So… had the Cecils already bought enough time? After we dismantle one layer of their deception, might there be another hidden beneath?

Often, a sharp mind only needs a small crack to connect many overlooked clues. Andersah felt she might be overthinking, getting too tense. But once she started down the path of conspiracy, her thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Since the Cecils took over Changfeng Fortress, things had been strange. The events unfolding in this vast standoff zone were increasingly outside the bounds of traditional warfare. She suddenly realized she had to think one step further… After all, between Changfeng Fortress and Winterwolf Castle, knightly codes of honor were rarely observed!

A sudden thunderclap shattered the sky, a bright bolt illuminating the rolling stones and vegetation around her. Andersah’s mind flashed back to the fake position she had discovered earlier, recalling a crucial detail—

The Cecils had left only a handful of soldiers at each fake position, serving as lookouts and “actors.” Such a small force, stationed far from Changfeng Fortress on the Paramel Highlands, couldn’t have remained calm facing a fully assembled knight regiment. Even if their will was ironclad, they would at least consider their own safety—unless they never intended to retreat alive. But if that were the case, they wouldn’t have left the position; they would have detonated explosives and died alongside the Typhon knights!

Yet, in reality, those Cecil soldiers withdrew calmly only after three attacks from the Typhon knights—when the knights were already close enough for a short charge.

Such composure meant they had a retreat route. That route couldn’t be the distant Changfeng Fortress, nor other defensive positions on the Paramel Highlands—no matter how many of those were real, they couldn’t withstand a full charge from the Winterwolf Knights.

Their retreat route was a combat force nearly equal in strength to Changfeng Fortress itself, capable of wiping out an entire Typhon knight regiment in a short time—and that force had to be lurking near the Paramel Highlands!

Andersah’s eyes widened. She spun around and ordered sharply, “Griffin riders, take to the skies!”

Her adjutant was startled. “General?”

“The Cecils may be hiding a large force capable of long-range attacks nearby… This rain is blinding us!”

The adjutant was shaken by Andersah’s gaze, then immediately grasped the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, he ordered the griffin riders in the best condition to ascend at once.

In the harsh weather, the griffins instinctively resisted flying into the clouds. Riders had to inject a potion through a hollow needle into the griffins’ necks, using magic and special incantations to force them upward against the storm. Andersah tilted her head back, eyes fixed on the massive raptors as they flew farther into the darkening sky, shrinking into blurry black dots.

She didn’t have to wait long. The griffin riders soon returned, the potion-addled griffins stumbling as they landed. A lightly armored rider leapt down. “General! To the northwest! There’s a huge, strange object—like the ‘train’ the Cecils sold us, but much larger and weirder!”

Andersah’s heart sank. After confirming the direction, her worst suspicions were confirmed.

She ordered the main force to hold position and led a group of elite soldiers to a secure observation point indicated by the griffin rider.

There, hidden among trees and boulders, stood the war machine.

That massive steel behemoth lay silently dormant on the tracks, its entire body clad in intimidating armor. Countless magical weapons of all sizes were mounted on it, arming it to a terrifying degree.

But the most fearsome of all were the enormous arcane cannons fixed at both ends of this iron monster. Andersa had never seen them in person before, but she had studied them in reports and in rare magical recordings that intelligence agents had risked their lives to smuggle out. She knew exactly what those weapons were capable of.

They could breach the most impregnable fortresses in the world.

And now, those weapons were quietly aimed straight at the Changfeng defensive line—while the Iron River Knights and the Black Banner Mage Corps marched unknowingly into their deadly range.

Andersa would probably never know that this dreadful war machine had arrived only half an hour earlier than expected.

Factoring in the time lag for the Iron River Knights to launch their attack and the delay needed to prepare the Iron Throne’s bombardment, she and the pivotal moment that would decide the fate of Typhon and Cecil were separated by less than an hour.

“…General, this is a trap!” her adjutant whispered urgently beside her. “We have to destroy that thing—”

“That’s impossible now, unless we have heavy siege engines or at least half a mage corps,” Andersa ground her teeth, then suddenly lifted her gaze toward the eastern plains.

Her adjutant and several accompanying officers followed her line of sight. Each of them understood the meaning behind her look.

They had to stop the troops behind them immediately.

Andersa raised her hand, about to give the order to send the signal.

But she hesitated—because she realized that once the signal was sent, their entire force would be exposed to the watchful eyes of that silent war machine.

The machine probably knew a Typhon unit was nearby, but neither it nor its operators knew the trap had been uncovered. It was still lying in wait, and the Winter Wolf First Knights still had a chance to retreat.

However, by the time the Winter Wolf Knights reached a safe distance, the Iron River Knights would likely have already entered the trap set by the Cecilians.

Andersa dared not wait until then to send the signal. She couldn’t gamble—

No one knew exactly how far that war machine’s attack range extended, but judging from its deployment and the intelligence on Cecil’s arcane weapons, she knew time was running out. The Iron River Knights were moving fast, probably already on the Changfeng plains. She had only minutes to halt that force and the mage corps behind it.

So someone had to break off from the main force to send the signal, while the rest of the knights quickly repositioned. The Paramel Heights covered a vast area, and visibility was poor at this moment. The war machine could likely only lock onto the signal sender, not the dispersed main force.

This was the option with the least loss.

As Andersa hesitated briefly, a soldier in a short mage’s robe stepped forward from the rear.

“General, I’ll stay behind to send the signal. Please withdraw as soon as possible.”

Andersa stared at the soldier, who met her gaze calmly. “General, I’m a support mage specializing in signal magic. Sending signals is my duty.”

After a moment of silent exchange, Andersa spoke in a low voice: “…Soldier, what’s your name?”

“Alek Yulea,” the mage soldier said proudly. “From Enchihawk County.”

Andersa took a deep breath, stepped forward, and firmly grasped his shoulder. “Alek, the Empire will take good care of your family.”

“It’s an honor to serve under you, General!”

Andersa nodded, then gave the order: “Everyone else, fall back with me immediately!”

Two minutes later, the entire Winter Wolf First Knights began their swift retreat from Paramel Heights.

Shortly after the knights left the area, a flash of light appeared behind their ranks.

Andersa turned to see a bright red orb rising in the distance, bursting high in the sky into a dazzling, blood-red blaze.

Trap. Retreat.

Seconds later, a piercing shriek and a series of explosions erupted where the orb had ascended.

The year was Ansu 738, the first year of Cecil, the 35th day of the Harvest Moon.

Every soul on the Changfeng defensive line had just narrowly escaped the edge of the blade.

(End of chapter)