Chapter 996: Targeted Ignition

At the Winterwolf Fortress front, the flames of war had already been ignited on this land—and they still burned fiercely.

On the eastern flank of the defense line, a narrow river valley had just witnessed a fierce battle. A contingent of Typhon supernaturals attempted a covert flanking maneuver through the valley to strike at the Cecil supply lines. But during their march, they inadvertently alerted a nearby mobile corps temporarily stationed in the area. The two forces clashed in a sudden encounter battle, unleashing intense fighting. The fully organized supernatural troops and the ordinary soldiers armed with steel machines set the entire region ablaze. After three hours, the remnants of the Typhon forces retreated, while the somewhat battered Cecil battalion took up position on the valley’s high ground to rest and maintain vigilance until reinforcements arrived.

A young officer with bronze skin stepped onto the still-smoldering battlefield. The biting north wind howled through the valley, carrying with it the acrid stench of scorched earth and charred flesh. The young man, trusted deeply by Mariland, couldn’t help but narrow his eyes against the harsh air.

He looked up toward the end of the slope, spotting three destroyed war vehicles lying in cratered pits. Twisted, warped armor plates still emitted thick, rolling smoke. Further beyond, soldiers busied themselves clearing the battlefield, placing bodies into body bags.

The Typhon forces had failed to retrieve all their dead during the retreat—these dangerous remains needed to be brought back and thoroughly incinerated. Leaving them here could invite unknown troubles.

A company commander clad in second-generation arcane armor, his shoulder draped with a blue insignia sash, arrived atop the high ground. He saluted the bronze-skinned officer. “Commander Payne, the body collection is complete.”

“Hm,” the young officer named Payne nodded, then furrowed his brow as his gaze fell on the wrecked vehicles. “Typhon is gradually mastering methods to counter armored vehicles in small-scale conflicts… They no longer rely on legion-level spells. Their supernatural units can now engage our tanks directly.”

“Indeed,” the company commander agreed. “Their tactics have evolved rapidly, and they’ve been learning from us all along. They no longer send melee troops to charge tanks head-on. Instead, they deploy various supernatural units working in coordinated squads. When conditions allow, they set magical traps; when not, they form small teams of heavily armored knights—five to ten strong—to absorb one or two rounds of fire. Their mages cast quickly from cover, using spells like Quagmire or Stone to immobilize vehicles, while counterspells such as Arcane Shock attempt to disrupt the power cycles inside the tanks. Meanwhile, infiltrators carry out close-range demolitions, or multiple mages coordinate attacks together…”

“So far, these tactics come at a high cost in casualties and only work against small groups of tanks and multi-role vehicles. But their methods are undeniably improving—and they’ve developed some potent new tools, like the explosives used by their infiltrators. Those are a serious threat.”

“…A mixed force of supernaturals can be this troublesome?” Payne frowned. “Not long ago, in skirmishes, they were helpless against our steel war machines.”

“Before the war with Typhon, we’d never encountered an enemy that used supernaturals as regular soldiers,” the commander said bluntly. “Even the archives of Longwind Fortress make no mention of such mixed forces or tactical shifts. This is something Typhon has developed only in recent years.”

“We were caught off guard because we’d never seen ‘supernatural units’ before,” Payne sighed. “And Typhon was equally unprepared for ‘ordinary human legions’ wielding steel machines… This war has been an eye-opener for both sides.”

His gaze swept the battlefield again. The black banners of Typhon lay sullied on the cold earth, stained with mud and ash. The red patterns on their surface stood out starkly.

He felt a genuine sense of relief that this war had come when Typhon was at its weakest. Perhaps not the most “chivalrous” thought, but Payne knew the age of chivalry was over.

After a moment’s reflection, he withdrew his gaze and turned to the company commander. “Have the bodies undergone preliminary examination? What are the findings?”

“Yes, the examinations are complete, and the results largely align with General Philip’s predictions,” the commander replied promptly. “Several enemy officers show signs of bodily mutation, confirming them as ‘fully infected.’ Most ordinary knights and some support troops exhibit enhanced toughness and regenerative abilities, classifying them as ‘psychically altered.’ All these retain their sanity. As for the accompanying mages… they appear unaffected by the war god’s spiritual corruption.”

“…So among the Typhon forces attacking the Winterwolf line, the proportion of personnel mentally corrupted is rising, especially among officers…” Payne nodded slowly, voice grave. “When Winterwolf first fell to us, only about half the enemy officers in the counterattacks were spiritually corrupted…”

“Isn’t that normal?” the commander looked puzzled. “It shows the corruption is spreading through the Typhon army. More and more soldiers and officers are succumbing to the mad god’s influence—the infection is nearing out-of-control levels.”

“No,” Payne shook his head, his expression serious. “You’re mistaken. Although we call it a ‘spiritual plague,’ its speed and scope of infection were limited from the start. It’s unlikely to cause such rapid new infections now.

“This ‘spiritual plague’ uses faith in the war god as its medium. According to scholars, only those with a certain degree of devout belief in the war god can be infected. If you’re not a devout follower, you won’t be infected no matter what. And if you are devout, you would have been affected within the first few days of the outbreak.”

The company commander listened carefully, then slowly realized: “So the number of ‘infected’ in the Typhon army should have stabilized days ago. Theoretically, there shouldn’t be this sudden increase… But what about those new infections?”

“I don’t know,” Payne admitted, eyes fixed on the distance. “But we should find out soon enough.”

…

East of Winterwolf Fortress, in a snowy forest near an unnamed mine, several faint figures moved swiftly between trees and snow.

They were as agile as forest beasts, their bodies enveloped in shifting magical auras that blended them almost perfectly with their surroundings. Only a focused gaze could catch their fleeting outlines. They quickly crossed the forest’s edge, skirted rarely traveled paths even by hunters, and finally stopped at a secret hideout deep within the woods.

A giant fallen tree, long dead and weathered, formed a natural windbreak. Several warriors clad in white light armor and cloaked in white mantles stood guard. When the scouting squad returned, the guards instinctively raised their alertness, but soon relaxed after confirming the newcomers’ identities via carried recognition seals.

“Safe. You may deactivate the cloaking fields.”

A low voice seemed to materialize from thin air. One by one, the returning figures shed their disguises, revealing the same attire as the guards.

This was a Steel Ranger unit operating deep within Typhon territory. In this snow-covered season, they wore gear suited for snowy terrain and all carried cloaking field generators to conceal their presence.

They had been active in the area for two days. Meanwhile, several other squads operated in nearby regions.

“Where’s Commander Solderin?” the returning squad leader asked, glancing at the obvious hideout. Before he finished, a magnetic voice came from just beneath his eyes: “I’m here.”

Golden-haired Solderin rose from a nearby tree stump—before he spoke or moved, the soldiers hadn’t even noticed he was there!

High-level Silver Elf rangers could appear almost invisible to ordinary eyes without using supernatural powers. This incredible ability inspired awe in the squad leader, who quickly snapped to attention and saluted. “Commander, we’ve returned from Pinewood Town. The mission went smoothly.”

“Report your findings,” Solderin said, his elegant demeanor tinged with melancholy. “The other squads haven’t responded yet. You’re the first to complete reconnaissance.”

“Yes, sir,” the squad leader nodded. “Our informants were accurate. We saw several buildings in the Typhon camp near Pinewood Town had their external insignias replaced. Judging by the style, these are quarters for noble officers and decorated knights. We also observed multiple large troop movements. At a southeastern crossroads, a force was assembling—judging by their banners and insignia, they’re from a national knight order in the central region…”

Listening to the clear report, Solderin nodded slowly. “Good. You’ve uncovered critical information.”

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t push further southeast,” the squad leader said regretfully. “The magical sentries there are too dense—mages everywhere, even at village entrances. Our cloaking fields might fail.”

“It’s not that mages are free,” Solderin scoffed, quoting something Gawain once said. “Typhon’s just very wealthy. That’s the power of money.”

As he spoke, the handsome elf’s brow darkened with a trace of sorrow, but he quickly shook it off. “I’ll compile your intelligence with previous reports and send it to headquarters in the next communication. Everyone should rest briefly. After that, we’ll relocate again.”

With his orders given, the high-level ranger turned and swiftly climbed a nearby tree. Concealed among the winter leaves, he perched half-alert, half-resting on a branch.

“Is the commander in a bad mood today?” the squad leader glanced that way, whispering to a comrade. “He looks troubled.”

“He’s been like that lately. Elves are said to be very emotional. Maybe the snow, the dead trees, the barren mountains got to him…” a Steel Ranger soldier replied casually.

The squad leader considered this and nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that makes sense…”

Though their voices were low, such sounds could never escape the keen ears of the elves.

Perched on a tree branch, Solderin’s ears twitched slightly, but he paid no mind to his subordinates’ idle chatter. He merely shifted his position a little, barely causing the branch to stir, then tilted his head back and gazed wistfully at the clear, blue winter sky.

After a long moment, he sighed softly, “…Why don’t they have any hair?”

“Because they’re transformed… but can you really count those as the same?”

…

In the study of Castle Cecile, Hetty laid a neatly compiled report before Gawain. “This is the latest intelligence from the front lines,” she said. “The Winterwolf Fortress defense has stabilized. Although the Typhon forces’ counterattacks grow fiercer each time, we’ve reinforced our troops in time. Zero and the Earth Serpent have also arrived near the Shadow Marsh, and the warriors have finally managed to hold their ground there.”

Gawain took the report, listening as Hetty briefed him, his eyes scanning the pages swiftly. Soon, his gaze slowed, and after Hetty finished, he muttered to himself, “As I suspected… the proportion of ‘Contaminated’ among the Typhon army has increased.”

“In theory, spiritual contamination spread through the Chain of Faith shouldn’t spike like this,” Hetty explained. “Nonbelievers can’t be infected, and devout followers are heavily contaminated from the start. Between these groups, the gods’ spiritual pollution doesn’t spread ‘person to person.’” She paused. “So… you were right about the situation.”

“Yes, I was,” Gawain said with a complex, subtle smile. “Look here—these troop movements, the intricate, rapid reorganizations…”

He sighed, his expression caught somewhere between laughter and tears.

“These ‘new’ infected are being gathered and dispatched from the rear. Rosetta Augustus is mobilizing her vast machinery of governance and war, continuously sending soldiers influenced by the God of War to the Winterwolf front through a series of personnel shifts. She’s using our strength to cleanse this contamination—and perhaps… to purge her political rivals in the process.”

Hearing Gawain’s words, Hetty’s expression grew strange as well.

(End of chapter)