Chapter 983: Critical Equilibrium

“The garrison inside Winterwolf Castle’s fortress district has surrendered?!”

Upon hearing the news, Philip sprang up from his chair, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yes, General,” a ground forces commander, his face streaked with soot, appeared in a holographic projection above a nearby magic network terminal. Behind him, vast ruins still smoldered with smoke and fire, while soldiers busily moved about. Under the makeshift lighting in the distance, disarmed Typhon soldiers were being escorted away. “Their supreme commander has abandoned resistance. The fortress shields have been deactivated from within, and we are now taking control of the castle’s various sectors.”

Philip furrowed his brow. Just as he had been puzzled days ago by the Typhons’ sudden outbreak of hostilities, now he couldn’t fathom why they would choose to surrender—this was completely at odds with the intelligence assessments of Winterwolf’s highest commander, and contradicted the War God’s usual pattern of seeking “bloody, escalating conflict.”

“With the castle’s formidable fortifications, they could have held out longer—perhaps even until reinforcements arrived to break the siege,” an aide standing nearby said, clearly baffled. “Only the outer district was breached; the inner fortress remains nearly intact… and yet the Typhons surrendered just like that? General, what do you make of this?”

“Typhon’s ‘Wolf Generals’ have never surrendered before. This current one is known to be a hardliner, openly hostile to us. Honestly, I don’t believe they gave up so easily,” Philip shook his head. “But since they’ve shut down the fortress shields, and our ground forces are steadily taking over Winterwolf, I can’t think of any viable plan they have left to turn the tide… Theoretically, if they truly wanted to keep fighting, any option would be better than surrender.”

The aide asked curiously, “General, do you mean…”

Philip looked up toward the magic network terminal. “Have you made contact with their supreme commander?”

“Yes, General,” the commander on the other end nodded immediately. “We have contacted her—but she insists on speaking with someone of equal rank. I believe she wants to speak with you directly.”

Philip paused briefly, then nodded. “Understood. I’ll be there shortly. Continue with the takeover and clearing operations, and establish a forward camp on site. Be ready for any Typhon counterattacks or further eastward advances.”

“Yes, General!”

…

Andersa still lay in bed. In truth, even now, moving was painfully difficult. The ringing in her ears had lessened considerably; her high-level supernatural constitution was rapidly repairing the damage inside her body. As her hearing gradually returned, she could hear the noisy bustle outside.

Her last remaining guards were being disarmed. The Cecil forces had completely taken over this place.

They were right beside her.

Andersa strained her eyes. She could see the oddly armored Cecil soldiers standing rigidly at various points in the room, alertly “guarding” the area. Meanwhile, her own loyal soldiers who had cared for her were being disarmed and “invited” to other rooms. In theory, she wouldn’t see them for a long time.

Not seeing them… perhaps that was for the best, the young Wolf General thought bitterly.

Because she truly didn’t know how to face those comrades she had spent every day with—whether those tainted by the War God’s corruption or those still fully lucid. She knew her Winterwolf Knights well, every single one of them. They had surely prepared themselves to fight to the last breath, even willing to throw their bodies against Cecil’s war machines. This castle could have held out, possibly until reinforcements arrived… but none of that was possible now, because their supreme commander had chosen to surrender after a single bombing.

And the entire Winterwolf Knights had obeyed the order without complaint… This weighed heavily on Andersa’s heart, an indescribable pressure.

As her thoughts drifted, a sudden sharp pain flared from one of her wounds, snapping her back. She groaned softly and shifted slightly—only to be met with greater pain.

“Try not to move. The new medicine is taking effect,” a stranger’s voice said nearby, cold but tinged with nervousness. “Hold on a little longer. A medical cleric is on the way.”

Andersa turned her gaze toward the voice and saw a young face—a Cecil soldier, or perhaps a low-ranking officer. None of them had magical energy; they were ordinary humans. Her vision still wavered, making it hard to tell if the person before her was soldier or officer.

At least these Cecils weren’t mistreating the surrendered garrison… that was something.

Just then, the sound of boots echoed from the doorway, and the young man’s voice called out, “Oh, the cleric’s here—”

A medical cleric? A priest?

Curious, Andersa opened her eyes wider and looked toward the source of the footsteps. She saw a young woman dressed in what looked like a nun’s habit, but with armor plates, a metal backpack, and rune chains attached here and there. This oddly dressed “nun” approached her, carrying a heavy-looking “combat staff” that, if she wasn’t mistaken, was stained with blood.

The “Cecil nun” came to Andersa’s bedside, set the staff down with a thud, and bent over her. Andersa noticed the mechanical gauntlet on the woman’s hand—no matter how she looked at it, it seemed more suited for combat than prayer or healing.

This was the cleric assigned to treat her wounds? Cecil’s nuns looked like this?

Doubt flickered in Andersa’s mind, though she knew this wasn’t the time to dwell on such details. She whispered, “Wait, I still…”

“Don’t move,” the young nun said sharply, pressing firmly on Andersa’s shoulder. “Your left eye is already blind—I don’t want to accidentally damage the other one.”

Andersa fell silent, then forced a bitter smile tinged with resignation. “…So it really is blind…”

“If you cooperate, maybe someday it can grow back—Cecil’s technology is the best in the world, after all.” The nun sounded almost cheerful, her confidence matter-of-fact.

Andersa listened quietly, saying nothing more.

…

Ferdinand felt as if he had been trapped in a long, strange, dark, and oppressive nightmare. In it, he was replaced by someone else, moving in a daze, doing terrible things. Yet within the nightmare, he remained aware—some force twisted his perception of the world. What he saw was no longer real; what he did was no longer his own will. He was like a clown puppet swaying before a flickering candle, desperately performing normal motions, but casting distorted, unrecognizable shadows on the ground.

Then, at some moment, he suddenly woke up. The nightmare’s illusions fell away, revealing blood-soaked reality. He realized that the nightmare’s events… had actually happened.

Rosetta Augustus looked at Ferdinand, who had abruptly sat up from the magic circle. Her usually somber face showed a faint smile. “Lord Ferdinand, you have finally ‘awakened.’”

Ferdinand gasped for breath, as if trying to purge all the filth inside him with rapid inhalations. Only then did his heart and mind stabilize enough for him to take in his surroundings—a sealed room resembling a magical laboratory, windowless except for a small door. Bright magic crystal lamps illuminated the space, and the walls were covered with intricate, winding runes.

He noticed there was nothing else in the room besides the runes. Even the place where he lay was a circular magic array etched with symbols.

“Your Majesty,” the old duke finally regained composure. Memories and correct perceptions that had been suppressed flooded back, and within seconds he grasped the terrible events of the past days. The seasoned former Wolf General shivered involuntarily. “I may have been corrupted! Before, I…”

“I know, I know, Lord Ferdinand. It has happened—you need to calm yourself further,” Rosetta Augustus said calmly. “The situation is bad, but not hopeless.”

Ferdinand took a deep breath and rose from the magic circle, his voice urgent. “We and Cecil…”

“Are already at war—it was we who declared it first, or rather, the War God declared it for us,” Rosetta met his gaze. “Lord Ferdinand, Malm Dunit used mental interference to cloud and distort your perception. The explanation we sent to Cecil was altered into a declaration of war, but this is not your fault.”

At that moment, Ferdinand felt his heart skip a beat. He fought off dizziness, and once he accepted that things could not be undone, he suddenly noticed something odd about the room—

It was a magical laboratory, covered in runes, but upon closer inspection, these were not runes he recognized. The complex, winding patterns were unlike those of any land-dwelling race. As he stared at them, his oppressive mood lifted rapidly, his lingering confusion cleared.

The old duke asked instinctively, “Your Majesty, where is this place…”

“This is still the Obsidian Palace. This room is one of Ms. Windsor Mapel’s laboratories. If you mean the runes—they come from the deep sea, originally brought to Cecil by the sirens, and then gifted to us by Cecil. I believe you have seen samples of these runes before, but this is your first time seeing a full-scale, fully assembled ‘Barrier House’.”

“Runes from the deep sea…” Ferdinand’s mind sparked with related memories. “So these runes are used to…”

“To cleanse the corruption you suffered,” Rosetta said lightly, “and to ensure you won’t be influenced by divine will again for some time. So far, it seems to be working well.”

Feeling his mental state rapidly improve, Ferdinand realized the “effect” she mentioned was indeed significant. But the next moment, another thought struck him.

“Your Majesty, did you know all along that I…”

“No, I don’t possess the gift of foresight,” Rosetta waved off Ferdinand’s words. “But I’m certain the divine corruption has already seeped into the highest ranks of the Empire—I just didn’t expect the first to be affected, and initially without detection, would be you. Someone who, for years, has consciously kept their distance from the Church. In that sense, I underestimated how deeply the will of the gods can infiltrate mortal minds. But on the other hand, we’ve now gained a clearer understanding of how this ‘corruption’ spreads and who it targets. That knowledge is invaluable.”

Rosetta spoke with calm detachment, yet Ferdinand quickly sensed a deeper meaning beneath the Empire’s ruler’s tone—

The emperor was indeed surprised, but only by the finer details. The overall course of events, it seemed, had never strayed from his expectations.

Did that include this war?

“Your Majesty,” Ferdinand whispered after a brief silence, “what are our next steps?”

“The war has begun,” Rosetta murmured, as if to himself, his gaze not meeting Ferdinand’s. “The Empire must now enter a state of emergency.”

“Are you going to invoke the Emperor’s supreme decree?”

“Over a decade ago, we tried to reshape this nation. We did so, achieving feats once thought impossible. But looking back, there’s still much left undone,” Rosetta said evenly. “Some who should have perished remain alive. Some things that should have been discarded still linger… Don’t you find that regrettable?”

“Indeed, it is,” Ferdinand Wendell replied. “It seems we have unfinished business to complete—though there’s one thing, Your Majesty: we’re now at full-scale war with the Cecilians.”

“It’s that mad god waging war against Cecilia,” Rosetta met Ferdinand’s eyes steadily. “A god gone rogue is the enemy of all humanity. This time, we are, in fact, on the same side as the Cecilians.”

(End of chapter)