Even the sea surrounding the peninsula seemed to be burning, explosions resounding continuously.
On land, chaos and clamor reigned. Vast swathes of ice and snow shattered and melted violently in relentless succession. Billowing thick smoke shrouded everything as hulking, ferocious extraterrestrials surged forth in packs—either erupting through the ice or lunging abruptly from the smoke—to begin the slaughter.
Rivers of red-and-yellow lava swept away unfortunate soldiers before continuing to burn channels across the ice, their erratic courses cutting off path after path of retreat.
Battle, death, and severed limbs of unknown origin scattered where corpses fell.
Blood. The red blood of humans covered the ground, flowing into the molten lava.
Snow. Snow stained with color.
Blood. The foul-smelling, viscous blue blood of the alien race splattered through the air.
Amid the clash of weapons, beasts howled and humans groaned in agony; screams laden with terror and defiance rose continuously, only to be cut short in sudden silence.
This place truly seemed to be hell.
"Don't panic! Don't run blindly! Do your best to hold the formation and rely on one another!" Junior officers ran desperately, shouting at the top of their lungs in an effort to stabilize the battlefield.
In the first five minutes, at least a hundred thousand people perished.
In truth, the entire Azure army had already been placed on high alert beforehand. Had it not been for that—had Duocha and Jazar not sacrificed their lives to send warning a step ahead—the casualties in those first five minutes might have been two, three, or four times what they were now.
"Who could have imagined... it would be volcanoes." Inside the Antarctic Front Command, the faces of every officer were ashen.
"Are communications working?" As supreme commander of the front line, General Siglo braced one hand against the desk behind him, striving to look composed.
"They're still holding up, sir."
"Quickly assess the situation across—" In truth, the situation everywhere on the peninsula was largely the same; there was hardly any need to check. Siglo paused, then asked, "What about the other two battlefields? Any reports?"
"Yes, sir," a staff officer nodded. "The situation on the Western Front is similar to ours—volcanic eruptions accompanied by Great Spikes breaking through the ice in ambush. Fortunately, they were prepared and possess formidable combat power. After weathering the initial impact, they have managed to temporarily stabilize their situation. On the Eastern Front, Stream Vanguard's current position is holding up relatively well. Although volcanic eruptions occurred there as well, only the Great Spike swarms already on the surface are gathering; no underground forces have emerged."
"Why is that?" another commander beside him asked.
"The general staff's analysis suggests that Mount Erebus in that sector is enormous and permanently active, making it impossible for the Great Spikes to hide underground for long periods," the staff officer answered.
Thus, the direst situation now belonged to the place originally considered the safest, situated in the rear: the Antarctic Peninsula.
And the greatest problem facing the Antarctic Peninsula was neither the initial casualties nor the high proportion of recruits. Judging from the battlefield reports, the recruits' performance in this round had far exceeded Azure's expectations, and among the veteran troops left behind, there were still top-tier and super combatants.
The greatest problem was that the volcanic eruptions, endless flows of lava, and dense smoke had thoroughly fractured the battlefield, dividing it into countless isolated pockets.
In those small arenas where numerical superiority could not be brought to bear, countless soldiers were being butchered. Worse still, as human numbers dwindled while the Great Spikes pressed their advantage, this slaughter would only accelerate until everything was swallowed whole.
At the same time, the number of super combatants stationed on the peninsula was nowhere near enough to counter the Red Shoulders present here—where not a single Red Shoulder had previously shown itself.
The primary battlefield Daie had designed was the Antarctic Peninsula all along.
Its learning capacity ensured that it now thoroughly understood humanity, including human strategic and tactical thinking.
Over a year ago, as soon as it arrived at this extreme corner of the earth, it had concealed vast numbers of Great Spikes beneath the ice of the Antarctic Peninsula, including a significant proportion of Red Shoulders.
Furthermore, facing an overall deficit in Great Spike numbers, it engineered volcanic eruptions to deliver the opening shockwave and carve up the battlefield.
For now, no one knew how the Great Spikes had accomplished this—how they had detonated those volcanoes. Perhaps through source energy?
Humanity had always known that numerous, massive volcanic clusters lay hidden beneath the Antarctic ice sheet, occasionally erupting kilometers below the surface, never reaching the ground above and subsiding in total silence.
The Great Spike swarm had "ignited" the volcanoes and opened channels for them.
...
There was no point in dwelling on such questions now.
This battle was already lost. Siglo knew this with absolute clarity. Before he answered for his failure, the only thing he could still do was strive to help as many people survive and escape as possible.
Otherwise, humanity was finished.
"Get everyone who can board onto the airships immediately. Disregard everything else. Then, order the fleet to take off." Siglo abandoned tactical battlefield command—over which he had become utterly powerless—and began issuing new orders, with the sole objective of saving as many lives as possible.
In truth, preparations to launch the Azure airship fleet had begun at least ten minutes ago, but source energy airships took an exceedingly long time to power up—and the larger the craft, the slower the process.
"Report, General," a staff officer hesitated. "The launch sequences of many of our ships were interrupted by the volcanic eruptions, and several have suffered damage. At present, only a dozen or so small craft have managed to take to the air."
"Then—" *Then let whoever can leave, leave,* Siglo wanted to say.
"Report!" Another staff officer appeared at the doorway, eyes rimmed with red. "Great Spike forces have concentrated their attacks on the fleet! The launch systems of all six of our space motherships have suddenly been locked down, the hatch doors are jammed, and all personnel inside are trapped! The Great Spikes are surrounding the motherships without assaulting them directly for now, focusing on butchering everyone in the vicinity!"
"..."
They couldn't leave. The sea route was severed, and the sky was closed. Siglo swayed on his feet, gripping his chest tightly over his heart. After steadying himself for a couple of seconds, he gritted his teeth and looked up.
"Order the Western Front forces to fall back and reinforce us at all costs."
They were needed here. Under current conditions, only if that vanguard elite of three hundred thousand and their numerous super combatants returned to punch through and reconnect the battlefield would the 1.2 million people on the peninsula have even a sliver of hope.
"But their flank is facing the densest concentration of Great Spikes on the entire continent."
"And their route back is cut off by volcanic lava."
When the other two commanders spoke, their implicit meaning was clear: *Give up. There is almost no hope left here. If possible, let the Western Front preserve as much fighting strength as they can; humanity's future will depend on them.*
Yet Siglo shook his head, speaking resolutely, "I said, at all costs."
If the Antarctic Peninsula fell and all 1.2 million people here—including the six hundred thousand high-fusion recruits Azure had spent immense resources selecting and training—perished, leaving behind all supplies and elite talents, what difference would it make even if one or two hundred thousand troops from the Western Front made it back?
By then, humanity would be finished, virtually incapable of ever standing on its feet again.
As long as that Daie avoided Chen Buer, they wouldn't even need reinforcements from space; the Great Spike swarms already in Antarctica alone would sweep across the globe.
Siglo had made his choice. This was the final, desperate gamble.
"Go, relay my orders—" he said through gritted teeth.
Just then, "Report!" Another staff officer appeared at the door, tears glistening on his cheeks. "Report: The Western Front's attempt to turn back and reinforce us has failed!"
"...Why?!"
"The flank swarm launched a berserk assault! At the same time, an enemy force commanded by the highest proportion of Red Shoulders in recorded history appeared directly on their route, intercepting them head-on!"
Siglo's eyes went bloodshot. After two seconds of silence, he roared, "Cut straight through them!"
"Western Front reports... what appears to be Daie has been sighted atop a mountain ridge ahead of the battlefield." The staff officer's lips trembled as he spoke. He wiped at his tears, but more kept streaming down.
"Daie..." Siglo had little strength left in him. "Didn't Headquarters reach out to the Huaxia Front in advance to request Legion Commander Chen Buer's urgent reinforcement in Antarctica? Or is Legion Commander's health..."
"They did, and Legion Commander Chen set out," the staff officer sobbed. "However, just moments ago, hundreds of Great Spike craft suddenly launched from the Pole.
"They have already rammed and destroyed every single one of the dozen small craft we managed to launch. The enemy ships are continuing to spread outward into the distance. The general staff believes their objective is to blockade the skies further out, intercepting any follow-up reinforcements from reaching us."
It was over.
No matter how formidable Chen Buer's combat prowess was, he still had to arrive by airship. The human source energy airship carrying him had virtually no chance of breaking through an aerial blockade formed by hundreds of Great Spike craft.
In this situation, Chen Buer likely wouldn't die, but he wouldn't make it in time either.
On the Antarctic Peninsula, people were dying by the moment.
On the Western Front, Azure's three hundred thousand elite were locked in a desperate, deadly struggle.
A deathly silence hung over the Front Command for nearly a full minute. With the battlefield having unraveled to this point, there seemed to be nothing left that they could do.
"What about the Eastern Front?" Siglo knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help asking.
"They only have six thousand men, and Major Qing's condition..."
"Their route back is also blocked by volcanic lava, and Great Spike swarms are gathering."
Which meant sending them to their deaths—and in all likelihood it would be futile and too late anyway... As the other two commanders voiced these facts, the command room sank once more into agonizing, helpless silence.
In the dead silence, Siglo walked wordlessly over to the telegraph and, with trembling hands, personally tapped out a brief telegram.
One minute later.
On the coast of the Eastern Front, Wen Jifei stood before Han Qingyu, holding a telegram in each hand.
The first telegram was from Front Command, penned by General Siglo. The entire message consisted of just four Chinese characters:
[Requesting aid. At your discretion.]
"What does that mean?" He Tangtang, who had assumed the wire was meant to inform them of the situation on the Antarctic Peninsula, and who harbored a quiet worry for a certain someone that he was unwilling to admit, hurried over to look, then looked up in confusion.
Siglo understood Huaxian, but only through rote memorization; he knew a scattering of phrases, yet usually couldn't express himself clearly.
Yet this time, his telegram had conveyed its meaning with rare clarity in just four words: *We need reinforcements, but I know what you face... Assess the situation, see if there is any way, and do what you can.*
The second telegram was folded.
"From Chief of Staff Xu. He specifically noted that only you and I are permitted to read it, Qingzi." Though stated that he could read it as well, Wen Jifei still handed the telegram over to Han Qingyu first.
At this moment, no one could tell that deep inside Second Lieutenant Wen Jifei lay an immense worry and a life-and-death attachment.
Han Qingyu took it blankly and unfolded it.
[Contact Pegmont. Tell him this...]
Chapter 791