Chapter 982: “Taking the Initiative”

The moment the order was officially given, Jin Na felt all her tension and anxiety vanish. The instincts of a soldier took over. She took a steady breath, and as she relayed the command to the entire Dragon Cavalry squadron, her hands gripped the control sticks firmly but calmly, sensing the cold, unyielding strength of the steel machinery beneath her touch. A profound calm settled over her.

One after another, the inverted-cone-shaped anti-gravity aircraft sliced swiftly through the clouds, tracing elegant arcs as they broke from their previous patrol routes and headed straight toward the blazing battlefield below.

Wind direction and speed calculations were complete; altitude and velocity were within expected parameters. The bombing angle and distance had been confirmed multiple times. The bombardier’s finger hovered over a rune-engraved trigger at the center of the control panel, silently counting down.

“All crew, disarm bomb safeties—release safety locks—bombs away!”

…

The night assault by the Cecils showed no sign of abating. Deafening artillery fire thundered relentlessly above the fortress walls. Since the founding of Winterwolf Fort, this stronghold had never faced such a brutal trial—nor had the nation of Typhon since its inception. Even the valiant Imperial soldiers and proud battle mages were shaken by the overwhelming onslaught. Yet, despite everything, the defensive line held firm. Winterwolf’s sturdy shields and walls withstood the barrage. At least for now, the Cecils’ “Heaven’s Fire” could not break through.

Count Palin Winterwolf studied the flow of magical energy across the western wall’s shield surface and exhaled slightly. “The mana circulation has stabilized again… it seems the magical focal point is holding.”

“But simply holding the line won’t win this,” Andersa said. “Count Winterwolf, remember what we discussed earlier? We have to find a way to break this stalemate and regain the initiative…”

Her words abruptly faltered. A faint, almost imperceptible buzzing sound, barely distinguishable amid the thunderous cannonade, caught her attention. She tilted her head, staring up into the hazy night sky, her expression growing strange.

Count Winterwolf was momentarily caught off guard. “Andersa, what is it?”

“Count Winterwolf, do you hear that… something up in the sky?”

The Count looked up as well. Between the thick clouds and dim starlight, his eyes caught faint shadows almost invisible to the naked eye.

Those shadows swept across the high altitude. Even legendary warriors would struggle to sense whether they carried magical energy or hostile intent. Yet an overwhelming sense of danger surged within the Count. His breath hitched. In the next instant, the powerful mage raised his hand and summoned a communication rune, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Incoming attack from above!!!”

“Reset mana flow—enemy incoming from the air!”
“All mages in squads one through six, adjust resonance direction and prepare to intercept aerial assault!”
“It’s too late!”

Orders were issued immediately. Though confused, all soldiers and battle mages responded as swiftly as possible to their commanders’ commands. But no matter how fast they reacted, it was already too late—the fortress’s defenses and manpower were almost entirely tied down by the Cecil ground forces’ assault. Moreover, the commanders had little concept of a “deadly attack from the sky.” In this era, where the battlefield was still primarily focused on the surface, this blind spot became Winterwolf’s most fatal weakness…

The bombs began to fall.

Andersa’s eyes widened as she gazed upward. The thickening clouds nearly blotted out the stars. She saw faint glimmers flickering between the shadows, then one by one, bright points detached and plummeted like shooting stars.

The explosions that followed were far more terrifying than the thunderous blasts of magical cannons.

Blazing fireballs blossomed like fireworks, detonating on the shield’s surface with visible shockwaves rippling outward. Circles of waves spread through the night sky, merging into vast ripples before being quickly drowned by pale static interference. The entire Winterwolf grand shield trembled violently. A deafening roar echoed inside the shield, as if an invisible great bell had been struck. Amid the terrifying rumble, Count Winterwolf heard an even more dreadful sound—

A howling rose from all directions: the shield was nearing its limit.

More bombs rained down, carpeting the shield from south to north. Shield nodes across Winterwolf shattered one after another. Fires broke out in multiple buildings due to chaotic magical currents. The blazing flames illuminated the walls and towers. Through the fiery glow, Andersa saw the shield above her rapidly fading.

One bomb finally pierced the thinning grand shield. Like a meteor, it crashed between the outer and inner city. The inferno seared Andersa’s eyes. A thunderous blast roared in her ears. A terrifying heat surged from her left side. Before she could even register the pain, darkness swallowed her whole.

…

“All bombs deployed. Confirmed target shield extinguished.”
“Visual confirmation: barracks and armory destroyed…”
“Core castle area remains intact… shield still active.”

Jin Na watched Winterwolf Fort, now engulfed in flames, through the observation window. The results of the air raid were streaming in.

The grand shield had been destroyed as planned. Yet the fortress’s core castle appeared to have survived the bombardment. This formidable stronghold lived up to its reputation—it clearly had two independent shield systems. Even with the outer city and grand shield obliterated, the fortress could still stubbornly hold out relying on the core castle.

But Jin Na felt no regret. This was all within the staff’s expectations. A single air raid could not completely destroy the Typhon fortress. The heavy damage inflicted was already a satisfactory outcome.

With the grand shield gone, half the city defenses ruined, morale severely shaken, and heavy casualties, capturing this fortress was only a matter of time—and a short time at that.

“Return to base and rearm,” Jin Na ordered. “We might have to come back again tonight.”

…

Roaring, scorching heat, the scent of blood, the constant sensation of falling out of balance… Andersa felt as if she were caught in an invisible storm swirling through a dark abyss, tossed up and down. For a while, she even thought she had lost all sensation of her body. But during the last intense moment of weightlessness, she suddenly snapped back to reality.

Pain exploded through every nerve, as if her body was falling apart. She felt herself lying on something soft, yet her body was soaked in cold. Thunderous ringing filled her mind. She vaguely heard voices nearby, but a louder buzzing noise drowned out all clarity.

A surge of frustration welled up. Angry, she tried to dispel the noise. Whether it was her anger or something else, the buzzing lessened. Faint light began to flicker before her eyes.

“The general is awake! The general is awake!”
“Water! Bring water quickly!”
“Notify Count Winterwolf!”

Excited shouts came from nearby, more than one voice.

Andersa struggled to open her eyelids—she had never imagined they could feel so heavy. After several attempts, the faint, blurry light before her slowly resolved into a shaky image. Her left eye seemed smeared with something, barely opening, while her right eye managed a little more. Through this hazy vision, she saw several familiar figures standing nearby. Above them was the ceiling of a room inside the castle.

“General,” a familiar voice spoke beside her, “how do you feel? Can you hear me?”

Andersa turned her gaze with effort. Her adjutant stood beside her.

Her eyes lingered on the adjutant for a long moment. After several seconds, she hoarsely asked, surprising even herself with the rasp in her voice, “How long was I unconscious?”

Her throat felt like it was on fire, but after careful sensing, she realized there was no fatal internal bleeding or tracheal rupture—a small mercy. Beyond that, she could not assess much, only that her condition was very poor.

“Only half an hour,” the adjutant replied. “High doses of alchemical potions and healing spells took effect…”

“Half an hour…” Andersa smiled faintly, “I thought it had been a century. Report the damage.”

The adjutant hesitated a moment, then lowered his voice. “The fortress shield was completely destroyed—permanently down. Both outer and inner cities suffered severe damage, with fires raging everywhere. We lost the barracks and armory. The magical weapons fell through the shield and struck where the 22nd Regiment was stationed. The 22nd Regiment… has been wiped out.”

Andersa took a slow breath, struggling to filter the cacophony around her. After a brief silence, she whispered, “What about the current situation?”

“Count Palin Winterwolf has ordered all able men to retreat to the castle area. The outer city is lost. He commands us to continue resisting in the castle and inner city. The Black Flag Mage Corps detonated the already damaged walls and set fires in the outer city before withdrawing. The rubble and flames have somewhat slowed the Cecil advance…”

“I did hear noises outside,” Andersa said slowly. “Slowed down… so they’ve broken through?”

“Our warriors are fighting them in the ruins and alleys of the inner city. We’ve suffered heavy losses, but no one is retreating.”

At that moment, a commotion nearby caught her attention. A soldier whispered, “Count Winterwolf is here!”

She saw the familiar figure of Palin Winterwolf enter her field of vision. The elder bent down, inspecting her wounds. She caught a heavy, almost sorrowful expression on his face.

“That’s enough,” Andersa said to her adjutant and the surrounding soldiers and officers. “You all may withdraw and continue commanding the battle. I need to speak with Count Winterwolf.”

“General, your condition—”

“This is an order.”

“Yes, General.”

The adjutant and soldiers left. Only Count Winterwolf remained in her sight. She forced a faint smile. “Looks like things couldn’t be worse…”

“They are indeed very bad. We have failed, Andersa,” the Count said gravely. “The Cecils will soon take this place completely. For some reason, they haven’t launched another terrifying aerial strike—perhaps they want to capture a more intact forward base. That has bought us some time, but not much.”

After that, there was a long stretch of silence—so long that even Count Parin Winterburg began to wonder if Andesha had slipped back into unconsciousness. But in the end, she spoke.

“Count Winterburg, what do you believe is a soldier’s duty?”

Parin Winterburg didn’t answer her question right away. Instead, he quietly studied the young woman he had watched grow up almost like his own. After a moment, he asked, “Andesha, what is it you want to do?”

She forced her eyes open and looked at him. “I still have one last choice to make… one last move I can take.”

Then she told him what she intended to do.

Winterburg’s eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe this was the decision Andesha would make. His voice dropped low as he warned her, “This will cost you your honor—no matter the truth, history will not remember you with glory. Andesha, you’re no ordinary commander. You are the ‘Wolf General.’ You should understand what that title means, and the weight of the responsibilities it carries…”

“The times have changed, Uncle Parin,” Andesha said with a faint smile, gently shaking her head. “The old codes… they just can’t keep up with the world anymore.”

“…Even if it means losing your honor?” Winterburg frowned. “I could issue the orders for you. After all, you’re no longer in a position to command…”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“…I understand,” Winterburg said, looking at her deeply before nodding solemnly. Then he asked, “Do you think this won’t be undermined by those corrupted soldiers and officers?”

“I have a rough idea of what the gods want,” Andesha said calmly. “They want war. Nothing but war—and surrender is part of that war.”

“Then let me be the first ‘Wolf General’ in Typhon’s history to raise the white flag before the castle falls. I’m ready.”

“…Very well. I’ll make the preparations.”

Count Winterburg left.

Andesha lay quietly on the bloodstained bed. Her left eye remained shut, but through the other, barely open, she seemed to glimpse memories from long ago—faded moments from years past. She recalled the first time, as a child, when she had followed her father to “visit” this fortress. She remembered listening, wide-eyed and confused, as he told stories of their ancestors, reciting the oaths carved beneath the wolf’s head statue. Her lips moved softly, as if still repeating those words with him—

“…I swear by my family, I swear by my honor, I will guard this fortress until my last breath… until my blood runs dry… until I am shattered to pieces… the Winter Wolf’s banner shall never fall…”

She shook her head.

She didn’t want honor.

She wanted her homeland to be safe—

This country, forged by the struggles and sacrifices of her forebears, should not be broken by some senseless disaster.

(End of chapter)