Chapter 977: A Misstep
The meeting had ended, but Hetty didn’t leave the room.
She kept Sordrin behind, and before long, Kamail was summoned into the conference chamber as well.
Even before the meeting concluded, Sordrin had sensed something was off. Now that they were alone, he asked bluntly, “You think there’s something strange about all this?”
As one of Gawain’s old comrades, Sordrin was actually a senior to Hetty, despite holding a slightly lower rank. Their conversations were always straightforward, without the need for formalities.
“This whole affair has been strange from the start,” Hetty nodded calmly, her gaze flickering between Kamail and Sordrin. “The Typhon forces’ actions make no tactical sense. Sending an elite unit to launch a lone assault on the border defenses is illogical from any military standpoint—both General Philip and General Mariland have pointed this out. And this kind of irrational behavior can’t be chalked up to a stupid commander or poor intelligence.”
“The Typhons aren’t fools, and their intelligence isn’t that outdated. They must know about the armored trains and the railway defense network.”
“You’re suspecting… some kind of aberration within the War God’s Church inside Typhon?” Kamail, as a member of the Renegades, naturally made the connection.
“Though we have no concrete proof, it’s highly likely,” Hetty agreed. “The War God’s Church has been acting abnormally for some time. The Typhon royal family has tried many measures to suppress the church’s activities and reduce the gathering of its followers, but the disturbances show no sign of abating. We can assume all their efforts have failed. We don’t know exactly how the War God, on the brink of madness, is influencing the faithful, but we can hypothesize that the Iron River Knights’ actions are linked to this loss of control.”
Sordrin frowned. “If that’s true, then what does that mean for us and Typhon…?”
“No matter if the Iron River Knights are acting under Rosetta’s orders or under their ‘master’s’ command, the fact remains—they’ve attacked the Changfeng defense line. The enemy has come, and we must fight back. That’s not going to change,” Hetty said without hesitation. “The key is to quickly figure out whether we’re at war with the Typhon people or with a god gone mad.”
“Right now, Generals Mariland and Philip are conducting military operations along the border and investigating, trying to gather as much intelligence as possible from Typhon. But the main legions excel at frontal combat; they might not uncover the truth quickly—that’s where the Steel Rangers come in.”
“Sordrin, you’ll likely need to head to the eastern border—take your rangers and find out what’s really going on. Agents infiltrated into Typhon’s military intelligence will assist you.”
Sordrin nodded without hesitation. “Of course. The Steel Rangers are made for situations like this—and I’m fairly familiar with Typhon’s terrain. It’s the perfect fit.”
“True,” Hetty smiled faintly, recalling something. “I almost forgot you spent a long time in Typhon.”
Kamail broke the silence. “My mission is to counter any possible divine corruption?”
Hetty looked at the ancient mage, her expression serious as she nodded firmly. “Yes—that’s likely another battlefield.”
“If the Typhon army has truly been infected by the War God’s madness, then our soldiers fighting them are undoubtedly at risk,” Kamail’s voice hummed with arcane energy. “Though the War God’s faith isn’t strong within Cecil, some of our soldiers and officers are influenced by it. We can’t rule out the possibility that mental corruption might spread through these ordinary believers.”
Hetty asked gravely, “Will our current defenses hold?”
“Thanks to further deciphering of the Siren runes and deeper understanding of the ‘Eva’ phenomenon, we’ve improved the ‘Mind Shield Systems’ on vehicles and individual soldiers. Nariel believes these can withstand close-range visual and auditory mental contamination for several hours. Additionally, we’ve installed a ‘Humanity Barrier’ within the neural network. By converting the low-frequency oscillations from the Siren’s Song into neural background signals, we can broadcast a continuous stream of purifying information across the network. Combined with Nariel’s inherent resistance, as long as the neural network covers the front lines, even lightly affected soldiers can be cleansed and restored.”
“Of course, all this is based on lab data,” Kamail admitted with scholarly rigor. “The entire system hasn’t been tested in real combat yet.”
Hetty had clearly considered this. “Better to have something than nothing. At least we have a plan. As for effectiveness… real combat is the ultimate test.”
She then asked, “How’s the progress with the Psionic Choir? Can the psionic singers Wendy trained be deployed yet?”
“Still needs some tweaking,” Kamail said reluctantly. “Though we successfully integrated the Siren’s low-frequency oscillations into the neural thorns and drastically shortened the training cycle with magical devices, the human body still needs time to adapt to ‘external casting.’ Even trained psionic singers remain unstable. The neural thorns greatly amplify human magical perception, especially the military-grade models… We’re working on solutions.”
“Given this involves the mind and spirit, caution is necessary,” Hetty sighed. “It’s okay. Things can’t always go smoothly. Even without the psionic singers, we have the Mind Shield System and the ‘Humanity Barrier’ in the neural network. We’re not without means.”
After finalizing the arrangements, Kamail and Sordrin left.
The vast conference room was finally empty, with only Hetty remaining.
She stood quietly for a moment, letting her overheated mind cool down. Then, weary, she sank back into her chair and exhaled deeply.
…
Under the morning light, the communication tower operated at full power. Runes floated within the force field, slowly rotating in the cold winter wind. From Winterwolf Fortress to the Shadow Marsh, from the northern frontier to Aldern, one relay tower after another transmitted urgent battle reports from the border, finally reaching the desk of Rosetta Augustus.
Even the brilliant Typhon Emperor was stunned by the explosive news.
In the obsidian palace’s private study, Rosetta leaned forward like a hawk, hands pressed on the desk, eyes fixed on the figure standing before him—Lord Perdinan.
“Lord Perdinan, the situation has exceeded our expectations.”
For the first time in years, Perdinan felt suffocated by pressure. “Your Majesty, I don’t understand… why would the Iron River Knights…?”
“Because the War God is the War God,” Rosetta’s face darkened. “Because the War God needs a war. We’ve always overlooked this… We knew the War God’s Church was in trouble, but we never considered what the god itself wants. It needs a war—any war will do. It could be internal chaos in Typhon, or… a full-scale external war.”
Perdinan’s voice quickened. “Your Majesty, do you think Andersa…?”
“She should have already withdrawn to the Winterwolf defense line—assuming the worst-case scenario, Lord Perdinan, the absolute worst,” Rosetta said gravely. “The Cecilians must have received the border reports. They will summon our ambassador and contact Aldern. They should have done so already… We must draft a letter immediately, explaining the situation. This is a war that should never have broken out!”
“Will they accept it?” Perdinan couldn’t help but ask. “If the Iron River Knights have launched an attack, this is far beyond a border skirmish. Perhaps the troops at Changfeng Fortress have already engaged…”
“Whether they believe it or not, we must send that letter,” Rosetta fixed Perdinan with a steely gaze. “Then order the Empire’s 3rd and 4th Mobile Knight Regiments to move to the Winterwolf and Winter Fort defense lines. At the same time, sever all rail connections with Cecil—raise the mechanical bridges. Until the situation is clear, we cannot let their mobile fortresses break through!”
A chill ran through Perdinan.
Clearly, though Rosetta still sought to resolve the misunderstanding diplomatically, she was mentally preparing for all-out war.
The old duke bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
In the shortest time, a concise, sincere, and well-organized letter was drafted. Staring at the freshly inked words, Perdinan sighed softly, “If only this letter could stop the situation…”
“Though we prepare for the worst, I still believe this letter will have an effect. The Cecilians noticed the divine threat earlier than us. They’ve faced ‘divine disasters’ before. If they calm down and think it through, they’ll sense the abnormality behind all this,” Rosetta said slowly. “What matters most now is preventing further deterioration, stopping the chaos from the War God’s faith from spreading.”
“Lord Perdinan, activate the list—immediately remove all officers and powerful nobles closely connected to the War God’s Church or suspected of placing faith above loyalty from key positions. Freeze and transfer critical powers according to the plan. Seal off all War God churches nationwide. In the name of the Pope’s passing and the royal family assisting the clergy to maintain order, isolate all clergy and keep them away from the military…”
“Your Majesty,” Perdinan said anxiously, “in such a tense situation, this might further weaken the Typhon army’s combat effectiveness and destabilize the country. The Cecilians could launch a full-scale attack at any moment.”
“Leaving those on the verge of losing control within our system is a greater threat. I don’t want to do this, but we have no choice,” Rosetta stared into Perdinan’s eyes. “This is a crisis—perhaps the greatest we’ve ever faced as individuals and as an empire. We weren’t prepared enough, but mortals are never prepared enough against divine disasters. We must do everything we can, Perdinan.”
“…I understand,” Perdinan took a deep breath. In that moment, he felt as if he had been transported decades back, to a time before Rosetta Augustus ascended the throne, when the Typhon Empire was mired in chaos like the old Ansu, beset by internal crises. The suffocating pressure, the uncertain future shrouded in chaos, the precarious situation—all echoed the memories of those years, making his aging heart pound anew. “We will overcome this crisis once again, Your Majesty.”
“Of course.”
…
Perdinan hurried to the communication tower within the Obsidian Palace, clutching a letter personally penned by Emperor Rosetta Augustus, explaining the situation.
He was about to send its contents through the communication lines and the Cecilians’ magical network to Cecil City—perhaps the last chance to prevent the situation from spiraling into the abyss.
He stepped through the grand entrance, passed the guards stationed in the main hall who saluted him, and boarded the lift that ascended to the upper levels of the communication tower. Arriving at the facility’s transmission center, he had barely stepped off the platform when a flustered, hurriedly approaching mage caught his eye.
“My lord!” The mage spotted Duke Perdinan and immediately raised the parchment in his hand. “An urgent message from Cecil City!”
“Let me see it.”
Perdinan took the neatly transcribed document, his eyes quickly scanning the contents.
Everything was exactly as His Majesty the Emperor had anticipated—the skirmishes along the border between the two nations had enraged the Cecilians. Now, both countries teetered on the brink of war.
They were sliding ever closer to the abyss.
“Send this straight to His Majesty’s study,” he ordered, handing the parchment back to the mage. Without hesitation, he strode purposefully toward the transmission center.
Since the Cecilians had already sent their inquiry, he could now dispatch the Emperor’s drafted reply immediately—no more delays.
This matter could not be entrusted to any servant or mage.
Inside the transmission center, a modest room, a magical array quietly pulsed along one wall. At the center stood a platform embedded with a massive crystal, its surface shimmering with iridescent light.
After the duty mage adjusted the relay settings, Perdinan approached the platform. He glanced once more at the handwritten letter, then placed his hand on the crystal. Channeling his magic and focusing intently, he began imprinting the message into the crystal—
“…the interference and sabotage in our economy, culture, and even internal affairs have pushed the Typhon beyond endurance… repeated armed provocations along our border… a declaration of war… to defend our…”
The crystal on the platform glowed softly as the information encoded within it instantly traversed the vast distance to the next communication tower. From Aldernan to the northern frontier, from the Shadow Marshes to Winter Wolf Fortress, the message would soon complete its final relay and enter the Cecilian magic network.
Within the crystal’s flickering depths, just beyond Perdinan’s line of sight, the translucent surface reflected a faint, indistinct figure—Malm Dunith, smiling gently at Perdinan with a look of warmth and affection.
(End of chapter)