Chapter 979: Evening

Andersa didn’t allow herself to sink too deeply into despair.

It was true that Typhon had fallen a step behind on the modern battlefield, but that didn’t mean their military strength was completely outmatched by the Cecilian forces. Her troops were currently at a disadvantage only under certain conditions—forced into a passive defense within Winterwolf Fortress—but even so, it wouldn’t be easy for the Cecilians to break through this line.

Her gaze drifted toward the distance. To the west of Winterwolf Fortress, smoke and dust were beginning to rise…

…

Heavy treads crushed the cold, hardened wasteland. The low growl of arcane engines and the grinding of gears and linkages echoed from all directions. The main gun barrels of the “Warhammer” battle tanks were raised high. Ahead of this steel legion, the towering walls of Winterwolf Fortress and the shimmering glow of its magical shields came into view.

The first wave of attack was closing in on optimal firing range. The echelon commander sat inside his sturdy vehicle, peering through the periscope at the scene ahead. Aside from Winterwolf Fortress itself, the barren plains appeared free of enemy obstacles—no flimsy wooden barricades, no tangled wire entanglements, no pesky interception squads.

“It seems they’ve given up trying to block our tanks out here in the open,” the commander shouted over the loud mechanical noise to the vehicle commander on his flank. “We’re closing in on firing range.”

“That Typhon lot are about to realize the mess they’ve gotten themselves into!” the vehicle commander yelled back. “I always thought the famed Winterwolf defenses would be tough to crack—but this looks easier than facing the Crystal Cluster Legion at Boulderhold!”

The echelon commander quickly cautioned, “Be careful! The Typhons are acting strangely on the battlefield. Watch out for traps…”

Over the past year, the Eastern Front forces had been expanded and retrained. Their ranks no longer consisted solely of the original First Legion soldiers transferred from the Southern Territories. Some veterans who had been stationed at Changfeng Fortress and survived the Crystal Cluster disaster had been retrained and now formed part of this new army. The commander of this echelon was one such “retrained veteran.”

His rich combat experience and deep understanding of the Typhon forces made him a capable frontline officer. Yet now, confusion was creeping into his mind.

The Typhons had never acted this oddly before. As the aggressors, they should have been more decisive, but instead they seemed as rushed and disorganized as the Cecilians. As a powerful border legion, they were strangely restrained on the battlefield. Many elite units had yet to appear. Rumors had circulated that the Typhons were reforming their army and strengthening their border defenses, but judging by Winterwolf’s performance, it was even worse than during the Ansu era a few years back.

The commander’s thoughts churned with questions, but he kept his guard up and scanned the surroundings.

Suddenly, a faint tingling and prickling sensation crept over the skin of his arm.

He looked down to see his hairs standing on end.

“Magic trap! Watch out!” The commander reacted instantly, rushing to the comm station. “Wings, spread out! Rear echelon, slow down and circle around! Front echelon, prepare for close-range fire clearing! Infantry, get ready to engage!”

The first wave of tanks responded immediately. Amid the roar of engines, the heavy steel vehicles rapidly shifted formation. The “Steel Ambassador” support vehicle extended its shield, bracing for the magical assault. Almost simultaneously, the ground ahead began to shimmer with a dense web of white light, like countless tiny lightning bolts seeping up from the earth. The glowing net swept across the battlefield, sparking fine electrical discharges from the mechanical compartments and railguns of several tanks.

Power conduits were severely damaged by the magical surge. The arcane engines faltered, gears and linkages twisted and groaned under the combined forces of inertia and engine malfunction. One by one, affected tanks and multi-purpose vehicles ground to a halt. Others slowed noticeably, with faint internal explosions rattling their hulls.

At that moment, a low, rumbling hum descended from the high sky. Under the protection of the Steel Ambassador, the supporting infantry instinctively looked up. In the dimming twilight, the sky above was suddenly filled with countless mirror-like focal points. Arcane energy surged through the air as those mirrors rapidly turned a deep crimson…

The remaining operational vehicles quickly retreated or spread out to the flanks. The Steel Ambassador switched to overload mode, expanding its wide-area shield to maximum. Infantry scrambled to find cover behind their squad vehicles. Then, in the next instant, hundreds—no, thousands—of high-energy beams rained down…

…

“Arcane stress field confirmed active! Enemy advance halted!” “Aurora rain focusing complete, commencing full-scale projection!” “Second echelon mages beginning energy buildup!” “Monitoring battle results…”

The once-quiet defensive line suddenly erupted. The hum of concentrated magic and the boom of explosions battered their ears. A flood of reports streamed to Andersa, who had withdrawn to the fortress command room. Through a magical projection conjured by her mages, she observed the frontline—though the view was now obscured by a haze of high-energy beams and smoke.

“It’s working,” Count Parin of Winterwolf said nervously, watching the holographic display. This was his first time deploying his battle mages against Cecilian mechanized forces. “High-energy beams of level four and above can penetrate their shields.”

But Andersa frowned, clearly spotting a problem. “…We should have waited until they were closer before activating the stress field. The mages were too eager. Or if only we had two layers of traps, we could have trapped all those Cecilians within the beam coverage…”

“They won’t fall for it twice,” Count Parin said grimly. “Still, we’ve achieved the expected results. Now it’s a contest of raw strength…”

Before he finished, Andersa noticed a flash of light deep within the smoke on the hologram. Something explosive had cleared the haze, leaving a faint cyan trail in the air.

Then a second, a third flash appeared.

Within seconds, a massive explosion thundered outside—the fortress walls were under attack.

The wind scattered the smoke, revealing the Cecilian steel legion once more. The once-mighty force now looked battered. After the high-energy beam assault, nearly a third of their war machines lay in ruins, with many more severely damaged and immobilized across the battlefield. Survivors took cover behind wreckage, bombarding Winterwolf’s walls.

Despite their disarray, their assault was still formidable.

At the same time, Andersa noticed other enemies behind the vehicles—soldiers wielding strange equipment who had survived the earlier strike. They spread out under cover of their own vehicles and battlefield debris, seemingly searching carefully for something.

They were sabotaging the underground arcane stress field generators.

Count Parin’s face tightened. This was the first time he’d seen a “normal” human legion withstand a strategic magical strike from the Black Banner Mage Corps without being wiped out. He was amazed not only by their combat effectiveness and survivability with enhanced equipment but also by their courage in the face of such overwhelming magical bombardment.

Just then, a message spell crackled into Andersa and Count Parin’s ears. The magical outposts atop Winterwolf Fortress reported more enemy forces approaching—

“Enemy vehicles spotted northwest!” “Magical energy detected southwest!” “Second wave of enemy assault observed at the front line!”

“You’re right,” Andersa said slowly, looking at Count Parin. “Now it’s a contest of brute force…”

…

Behind the main assault force, the former Treaty Fortress had been hastily converted into the First Legion’s frontline command post. Various arcane devices transferred from the rear filled the great hall on the ground floor. Commanders, liaisons, and coordinators bustled about, creating an atmosphere of intense activity.

In command here was none other than Philip himself.

A subordinate stood before him, reporting the latest frontline updates. “The advance on Winterwolf’s west side has stalled. The vanguard was hit by a legion-level spell from the Typhon forces and cannot push forward. They’re slowly weakening the enemy shields from maximum range. The second, third, and fourth echelons are attempting attacks from multiple directions but are met with powerful cluster magic bombardments and traps that disrupt the operation of our arcane network devices.”

“Looks like the Black Banner Mage Corps has already reached Winterwolf,” Philip concluded quickly, frowning. “Those traps weren’t in our prior intelligence… Seems the Typhons have some new tricks even we haven’t seen.”

“General, should we commit the reserve echelons?” the subordinate asked. “The Black Banner Mages are already inside Winterwolf, and the ground forces’ advance is slow…”

Philip glanced at the arcane network terminal nearby.

“No,” he shook his head. “Keep the advance units at a safe distance, outside the range of strategic spells. It’s okay to proceed slowly—as long as we keep the Black Banner Mages occupied and prevent them from resting or redeploying.”

“Yes, General.”

After the subordinate left, Philip exhaled softly. He returned to the tactical map, reviewing the terrain around Winterwolf and the enemy deployments confirmed by the latest reconnaissance.

Winterwolf was currently on the defensive. Its combat power was strong but within expectations. However, troops from across Typhon’s territory were surely converging on the Winterwolf line. Over time, the fortress’s defenses would solidify and might even launch counterattacks.

Yet Philip gave no orders to commit more echelons or alter the advance plan.

Still, as he studied the map and considered the battlefield, a sudden thought surfaced in his mind—

“Should we try a more aggressive assault? Have the frontline echelons endure Winterwolf’s defensive fire and launch a massive, coordinated charge. With so many tanks and multi-purpose vehicles spread across the open field, attacking simultaneously from all directions, even the Black Banner Mage Corps couldn’t cover the entire battlefield with their strategic spells…

“Arcane mages are flesh and blood—they have limits. Large-scale strategic spells must have cooldown periods…

“Compared to a safer plan, the advance units might suffer heavier casualties but could achieve victory faster. And the glory would belong entirely to the First Legion—no need to share the honor with others…”

“This is a battlefield. Sometimes, necessary sacrifices must be made to earn necessary glory…”

Standing beside Philip, Malm Dunit wore a gentle, loving smile, patiently waiting for the young General Cecil to make his decision.

Philip lifted his head and turned toward Malm Dunit. Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face.

Malm Dunit’s warm smile froze instantly, his expression shifting to one of profound shock. He instinctively began, “How did you—”

“I once devoutly worshiped the God of War. Even now, that faith still influences my words, my thoughts, and subtly shapes my very soul. Not everyone has the strength of will to break free from the spiritual seal,” Philip said calmly. “So, do you really think that after learning about Typhon’s divine catastrophe risk, Cecil’s soldiers would go unprepared?”

As he spoke, he raised his left hand. A delicate chain of pale gold hung down, and a small device resembling a pocket watch slipped from his sleeve. But when he opened the “dial,” instead of a clock face, there shimmered a complex, twisting rune that called to mind the eerie forms of deep-sea creatures.

The moment Malm Dunit saw the rune, dizziness washed over him. His body wavered, unstable, as if the energy sustaining him was about to snap.

In the next instant, the former War God’s Pontiff’s figure dimmed rapidly, as if attempting to escape through some kind of teleportation spell. But before he could act, Philip swiftly pressed a button on the nearby arcane network terminal—

A low-frequency vibration, imperceptible to human ears but charged with immense power, echoed through the room like a requiem. It immediately suppressed Malm Dunit’s spirit and expelled it from the dimension he sought to flee to.

Nearby officers and clerks heard an unearthly howl. They saw a figure suddenly appear near the general, only to be violently flung backward. Shouts of alarm rang out all around.

Malm Dunit felt a piercing, bone-deep pain. Even as a spirit, he had thought such sensations beyond him. Yet an invisible force tore at the divine power sustaining his form, threatening to shatter his soul. The relentless assault finally enraged the obsessed spirit. He jerked upright and raised his staff high—

Only to have a spider’s silk wrap tightly around his wrist.

(End of chapter)