Chapter 990: The Rear Front

When the sudden intelligence from Typhon reached her, Hetty paused for a moment before the implications behind the news dawned on her. After a brief moment of thought, her eyes widened. “Could Rosetta really be planning to…?”

“Treating the Calamity as an opportunity,” Gawain said slowly, “an opportunity to completely purge the stubborn factions within the country, to eliminate the remnants of reform, and to reshape the ruling order. If I’m right, the temporary closure of Parliament and the declaration of a state of emergency are just the prelude to a massive purge… and it’s likely more than just a purge.”

“A purge?” Hetty couldn’t hide her disbelief. “Is that really his way of dealing with the Calamity?”

“No,” Gawain shook his head. “It just means he’s confident in handling the Calamity. It means the Obsidian Palace still holds control over Typhon, and Rosetta August has a plan to quickly restore order from the chaos caused in the early days of the Calamity. The situation in Typhon hasn’t spiraled out of control—only the War God’s Church has. It seems no matter how this Calamity ends, the War God’s Church won’t come out well.”

Hetty quickly considered the implications for both Typhon and Cecile. She couldn’t help but ask, “But couldn’t this cause even greater chaos in the short term? Aldern might respond sluggishly to the war because of it. Doesn’t Rosetta August worry about the battlefield? Or does he think we’ll just sit quietly on the Winterwolf Fortress line and watch all this unfold?”

“If Rosetta moves fast enough and is well-prepared, the chaos in Aldern will be far less than you imagine. This will only force the Typhon royal family to consolidate all domestic forces more quickly, allowing their military and industrial capabilities to recover swiftly from the divine chaos. The War God may be out of control, but at this stage, it can only influence the world by corrupting mortals—and those mortals are exactly the targets of Rosetta’s purge.”

Gawain spoke deliberately, glancing at the continent map hanging nearby before continuing:

“As for this ‘war’ and the actions we might take… he’s actually calculated it quite well.

“We won’t be launching an offensive, at least not for now—Hetty, what do you think?”

Hetty blinked, clearly unsure of what Gawain meant.

“Right now, Typhon is a quagmire, and it’s only getting deeper,” Gawain said gravely. “If this were a normal war, we’d naturally be willing to risk everything to defend our homeland. But this war is meaningless. Far from Cecile’s heartland, our network-based mental defenses and purification technologies won’t be as effective. The casualties from soldiers entering contaminated zones would be unpredictable. Moreover, we understand the dangers of the Calamity and the madness of the gods better than the Typhon people do. Since we now know this war is being driven by an out-of-control War God… jumping deeper into this pit will only make the Calamity impossible to contain.

“By then, we won’t just be fighting the Typhon people.

“And finally, the most important reason—I’ve said it more than once: in the face of a world-class disaster, all humanity shares a common fate. I never say that lightly.”

Hetty nodded thoughtfully but soon murmured, “What you’re saying… applies only to the ‘current stage,’ right?”

“Yes, the current stage. Which is why I’m curious how Rosetta plans to end this,” Gawain nodded. “Pushing the front to Winterwolf Fortress lets us explain ourselves to our people, but Typhon… it won’t be so easy for them to stop. Rosetta August’s biggest concern right now must be how to quickly control the domestic situation while halting those restless elements…”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Hetty looked at him, puzzled. “Ancestor, you…?”

“Perhaps… he doesn’t intend to stop,” Gawain squinted slowly. A sudden flash of insight struck him—Rosetta August might be planning something bold, seemingly a gamble, but in reality the best option left under the circumstances. “Hetty, notify Philip to send more troops to Longwind Fortress. At the same time, secure the mechanical bridge near Shadow Marsh as soon as possible. Within half a week at most, the World Serpent and Unit Zero must enter the Winterwolf region.”

Hetty quickly caught on. “You mean… after the Typhon royal family regains control, the war might actually escalate?”

Gawain pinched his chin, his tone low and serious. “That’s my feeling… If Rosetta has realized deeper internal dangers within Typhon and wants to extract more gains from this crisis, he might try something even bolder. After all, all responsibility can now be pinned on a mad god—an unprecedented opportunity for someone waiting for the right moment.”

Hetty lowered her head immediately. “Understood.”

Gawain waved his hand dismissively, then his gaze returned to the continent map nearby—Typhon and Cecile’s borders tangled like two massive beasts locked in a deadly grip northeast of the ancient Gondor Empire. Countless red lines and temporary markers clustered along the jagged frontier, like drops of blood seeping from wounds.

He withdrew his gaze and quietly clenched his fist where Hetty couldn’t see. At this moment, he felt as if he were driving a war chariot racing along a perilous cliff edge—unable to stop, unable to lose control. And he believed Rosetta August must be feeling much the same.

He sighed softly. “Humans… truly a species full of contradictions.”

Hetty, lost in thought, didn’t catch his muttering at first. “Ancestor, what did you say?”

“Nothing,” Gawain waved it off and looked up at her. “Notify the propaganda department—we can start broadcasting the news of my return on a large scale. Make it big enough so the Typhon people hear it first.”

…

The situation around Winterwolf Fortress was growing increasingly tense. The occupying Cecile forces were building fortifications and bunkers all along the defensive line. They showed no immediate intention to advance further, instead preparing to hold the area firmly and rest. Construction machinery roared day and night, and more soldiers arrived from Treaty Fort and Shadow Marsh. Their propaganda machine was running at full throttle, flooding nearby towns and trade routes with countless leaflets centered on Winterwolf Fortress.

Meanwhile, the Typhon Empire’s army had launched several counterattacks—starting with probing strikes and escalating to large-scale operations by multiple legions. Their efforts to reclaim lost territory caused casualties on both sides, but it was clear the Typhon forces, already weakened and having lost key fortresses, were in a worse position.

The Cecile forces had firmly established their foothold along the border.

But none of this concerned Andersa anymore.

Once her condition improved enough to endure the jolts of long-distance travel, the scarred wolf general was quietly evacuated from Winterwolf Fortress. First taken to Longwind Fortress, she was then handed over under strict protocols and secretly boarded a magitek train bound for Cecile territory. At this moment, she had crossed the last checkpoint of the Eastern Border.

Andersa had never imagined she would set foot on Cecile soil in this way.

The magitek train sped along the tracks, the winter landscape outside the window bleak and desolate. Bare trees and rivers running low dotted the gray-brown earth, receding as the train advanced. In the distance, the silhouettes of cities and villages appeared—vast clusters of man-made structures, towering spires, a scenery unlike Typhon’s.

Leaning against a soft, almost couch-like seat, Andersa gazed absently out the window. She shifted slightly, and the cushion beneath her made a faint sound.

This seat was specially prepared to minimize travel fatigue and protect her still-healing wounds. Clearly, the Cecile side was doing everything possible to keep this special prisoner alive—she was valuable to them.

Andersa tugged at the corner of her mouth, a faint trace of gratitude flickering in her eyes. Even without their care, she would fight to survive.

A young woman’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “How do you find the scenery outside?”

Andersa glanced at the speaker—Sister Marian sat nearby on a simple chair, smiling gently. The nun still wore her battle-like clerical robes, and her combat staff—or was it a war hammer?—rested within easy reach. A thick tome lay open on her lap; she had been absorbed in reading before greeting Andersa.

“Winter looks the same everywhere,” Andersa replied casually. “It’s a season of emptiness.”

“I hope you keep that mindset,” Sister Marian smiled, “because once we reach our destination, you’ll be even more surprised. This is Cecile—your usual common sense won’t hold much sway here.”

Sister Marian was clearly proud and confident in her homeland, something Andersa had come to realize over their few days together. So she didn’t press the topic, instead offering sincere thanks. “Sister Marian, thank you for your care these past days.”

“It’s my duty—no thanks needed,” Marian smiled. “And I won’t just be caring for you these few days. I’ll be by your side for quite some time, until you’re mostly recovered.”

Being watched over by someone familiar was clearly part of Cecile’s special “care” for her.

Andersa was silent for a moment, then asked softly, “Will I have a chance to return to Winterwolf Fortress?”

“…I don’t know,” Marian shook her head. “I’m just a nun. But you can still hold onto hope—after all, hope is free.”

With that, the war nun lowered her head again, returning her attention to the thick tome that seemed never-ending.

Perhaps it was a sacred text of the Holy Light doctrine.

It was said that in Cecile, the original Holy Light Church had been completely reorganized, its doctrines turned upside down. Was this the new doctrine Marian was reading?

Curious, Andersa’s eye peeked through the strands of hair at the book on Marian’s lap. After hesitating, she asked, “You’ve been reading that book all along… is it the doctrine of your ‘New Holy Light Sect’?”

“Doctrine? No, not at all,” Marian shook her head, lifting the heavy book. “This is the Emperor’s Sacred Words. To me… it’s almost as important as doctrine.”

“Emperor… the Emperor’s Sacred Words?” Andersa repeated the strange phrase, unfamiliar with such a book. “What is it about?”

“Here are some inspiring quotes from the great King Gawain Cecil. This collection is constantly updated and expanded. What I have here is the latest edition from last month—would you like to take a look?”

Records of King Gawain Cecil’s words? And they keep adding to it?

Anders’ expression instantly turned strange, unsure how to react to something like this. She was about to say she wasn’t very interested, but the enthusiastic Sister Marian had already handed her the hefty tome. “Just take a look. It’s actually quite fascinating and insightful—you get to see a different side of His Majesty, full of wisdom and humor. But I should warn you, this book isn’t publicly available. You can only get it through special channels…”

Not publicly available?

That only made Anders more suspicious, but at the same time, the remark piqued her curiosity. Even without much interest, she took the book from Marian and flipped it open at random. Her eyes landed on a passage:

“Your eyes will deceive you, your ears will deceive you, your imagination will deceive you—but mathematics will not. If you truly can’t grasp it, I suggest you consider focusing on music or sports instead…”

Anders blinked in confusion.

So this is what the war sister had been obsessively studying day and night all this time?

She looked up at Marian, bewildered. “Are you sure these are really King Gawain Cecil’s words?”

Marian shrugged casually. “Who knows? I don’t really think so either, but there’s some truth in them. Don’t you find it kind of interesting?”

For a moment, Anders was at a loss for words. She glanced back at the page and read the line again—mathematics won’t lie, it just won’t. Suddenly, the young wolf general found herself thinking this book might have some value after all. At least some of it made sense…

She smiled faintly and handed the heavy volume back to Marian. Then, almost on a whim, she asked, “So, where exactly are we headed?”

“To a place best suited for your rest and recovery—the miracle land of Cecil’s life,” Marian replied with a proud smile as she took the book back. “We’re going to Solinburg.”

(End of chapter)