On the Antarctic Peninsula, the volcanic eruptions had largely ceased, but the colossal clouds of smoke had yet to fully disperse. Having endured the most agonizing first five minutes, the survivors had pushed through the second, the third...
The battlefield remained fragmented, trapped in a desperate struggle for survival. A full-scale counterattack, aside from a few localized efforts, had yet to materialize, and hope was nowhere in sight.
The rough death toll had already surpassed one hundred and fifty thousand. Innumerable young names had vanished without a sound into the boundless ice and snow of Antarctica.
"The recruits have already done wonderfully—unbelievably well."
"Yes. They are the finest class in human history. Under normal circumstances, they could have made the future so much brighter, but..."
This was the primary battlefield that Daie had spent over a year preparing and scheming for. For humanity, it was not—even with mankind's largest army assembled here, it still was not.
The Great Spikes had ambushed them with far too many Red Shoulders.
In other words, the proportion of human super combat power on the Antarctic Peninsula was far too low. In particular, peak super combatants capable of holding off a Red Shoulder in groups of two or three were far too few.
As for those capable of slaying a Red Shoulder single-handedly, humanity had very few to begin with. On the peninsula, there was only one left: the prodigy Wolf.
Yet the Antarctic Peninsula was too vast, the battlefield too scattered, and smoke and unextinguished lava flows still barred the way.
Thus, Red Shoulders were practically invincible here for the vast majority of the time. Even if a single Red Shoulder charged into a formation of hundreds or thousands of men alone, it went unscathed. The attacks of ordinary soldiers could not even pierce its defense.
Casualty rates on the battlefield were trending downward, but the slaughter continued unabated.
Across the fractured battlefield, one million men could hardly even organize a layered, distance-charging giant javelin formation effectively.
As for the human fleet of source energy airships that was originally expected to put up a fight, all six space motherships had been locked down, rendering them incapable of even forcing a launch.
No fundamental shift had occurred in the situation. All resistance appeared to be nothing more than delaying inevitable doom.
***
On the Western Front, the desperate march of three hundred thousand men rushing back to reinforce the rear was accompanied at every step by brutal, bloody combat.
Boundless drenched blood spilled across nature's impassively shifting ice and snow. Countless battle-hardened veterans who had stood firm through a hundred conflicts fell at 80 degrees south latitude on the lost continent.
In truth, when it came to the density of Great Spikes and sustained pressure, the Western Front was the heaviest across all of Antarctica.
Directly in front of their original advance toward the Pole lay the continent's largest and densest swarm of Great Spikes.
Now, as they turned southeast to provide reinforcement, this swarm hung on their flank... accompanied by relentless, rabid assaults against their side.
"Run! Keep moving!"
Small detachments assigned to the flank and rear to hold the line and buy time were swallowed up one after another by the pursuing swarm.
Amid shouts and bellowed commands, the main force never paused its march to reinforce the rear for even a single moment.
Charging forward while forcing their tear-filled eyes away from the rear, immense anguish and oppression drove countless running soldiers to roar in agony.
And then, they ceased to care about death.
Death—at certain moments, death suddenly ceased to be terrifying.
In this very manner, bearing such grief and a resolved will to face death, the Western Front force shed casualties the entire way as they broke through frontal intercept after frontal intercept.
Compared to human troops, the Great Spikes did not fear lava—or at least were not significantly affected by it in the short term. Along the way, they had frequently stood directly in molten lava to intercept and fight.
This had forced the Western Front force to pay an unimaginable, gruesome price.
Fortunately, the situation was now improving. With the volcanic clusters ceasing their eruptions, the supply of lava was cut off; the flows were either cooling gradually or sinking straight through the ice sheet, disappearing into the depths.
Yet ahead...
"Is that it?"
"Yeah!"
The brief exchange came to an abrupt halt. An immense despair surged in everyone's heart.
Daie.
All previous conjectures, assessments, and doubts were confirmed at this very moment.
There really was another Daie in Antarctica, and it was right here.
Over the past year and more, it had orchestrated everything unfolding today with its own hands. Even amid the shifting dynamics of the battlefield, it knew precisely that at this exact moment, it needed to appear here, on the Western Front.
As long as it blocked this desperate push to reinforce the rear...
The massive slaughter on the Antarctic Peninsula would continue until total annihilation was achieved... Even if it took a little longer, it wouldn't matter.
Ahead lay a colossal glacial canyon. Along its flanks rose rolling, snow-clad peaks, and Daie's massive frame stood ramrod straight atop one of those icy crests.
With arms folded across its chest and its colossal column sword still strapped to its back, it resembled the statue of a demonic deity, watching everything with tranquil indifference—including the two hundred and seventy thousand of Azure's finest elites surging toward its feet.
The term "Azure's finest elites," up until now, held meaning primarily when placed before Red Shoulders. Once standing before Daie, these elite human warriors were fundamentally no different from common foot soldiers.
Daie was an existence capable of effortlessly striking down ordinary super combatants in an instant.
Even powerful, top-tier super combat powers who could form a team to briefly entangle it were fundamentally incapable of posing a fatal threat.
Currently, the only humans who could truly threaten it were likely those at the Beyond-the-Sky level.
Yet humanity currently had only 2 + 0.5 + 0.5 individuals defined at the Beyond-the-Sky level. Of the two, one was an enemy. Of the two 0.5s, one was Admiral Bochen, who had not yet recovered from grave wounds and was not in Antarctica; the other 0.5 had amnesia and was crippled—he was in Antarctica, but not here, and even if he were, it likely wouldn't matter.
Everything seemed utterly hopeless, like dying cinders fading into cold ash.
"Are we going?" God Lü, Lü Moyi, turned with blade in hand, barely surging his source energy to constrict the wounds on his body.
A Red Shoulder riddled with blade wounds collapsed not far beside him, revealing behind it a figure whose bangs shadowed his eyes.
*He even has bangs. What an enviable bastard,* God Lü thought to himself. *No, he's just fucking annoying.*
His bangs swayed naturally in the wind. As Hua Bixuan raised his head, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, stumbling slightly before steadying his footing... The bird of paradise pinned to the right side of his chest remained. Huaxia's foremost assassin, who bore the previous generation's reputation as the "most dashing super combat power," could still enchant thousands of women with a simple smile even when battered and bloodied—though this smile looked a little strained and pained.
"Of course." Turning his head, Hua Bixuan cast his gaze toward the black figure atop the icy peak.
Only they could go.
Perhaps seven or eight peak super combatants could join hands to fight it, and they couldn't all die here either... Yet someone had to die here. Maybe two, maybe three, four...
As if by silent consensus, the peak super combatants fighting in various parts of the battlefield began gathering toward God Lü and Hua Bixuan.
"Don't look at it! Go! Keep moving!"
The main force could not stop. Once they halted, all would be lost. The roars of the super combatants, surging with source energy, echoed repeatedly over the ranks.
"...And don't look at us either," they said.
"Phew... Wonder how Stream Vanguard is doing over there." The super combatant from Mexico was easy to spot as always—the experts from their Front had an unspoken habit of sporting pencil mustaches. "If they were here too..."
"I'd rather hope they've already run," a German super combatant said with a bitter smile.
"...Well, you're right." A super combatant from Suriname raised a hand, pointing his blade toward two tangled figures by the roadside ahead, and asked, "Should we call him over?"
In truth, on a battlefield like this, finding someone without using a communicator was usually exceedingly difficult. But Pegmont was an exception. He was tall, and that upturned tuft of pink hair fluttered perpetually in the wind.
Pegmont was formidable—among everyone here, he even had a strong claim to being the strongest.
However, "No."
Hua Bixuan smiled, looking in that direction as well. "Even if that idiot has always had a few screws loose, there's no denying he's still humanity's hope for the future."
Pegmont was already powerful and still young, brimming with limitless potential.
Yet... would humanity still have a future?
"Yes. There will definitely still be hope for this world." Anton, top-tier super combatant of Xiongzhanli, walked over with labored steps, clutching a bleeding wound on his abdomen.
After coming to a halt, his gentle gaze swept across the great winding dragon of fearless charging soldiers—his men, humanity's men, the magnificent warriors who dared to charge forward while disregarding Daie.
Glancing at Daie one last time, Lieutenant General Anton—the most gifted prodigy of the Xiongzhanli Front after Admiral Ivan, and currently its strongest combat power—turned back and said:
"There will definitely be a future. There will... It's just that we probably won't live to see it."
"That doesn't matter either. Did you know there are two Slavic kids on the peninsula who are even more gifted than me?" he said, looking genuinely pleased.
God Lü nodded, then grinned slyly, saying with pride, "We've got more than you."
"Fair enough, haha." Several super combatants nearby chuckled as well.
"Then let us take responsibility for giving them and this world that hope." Lieutenant General Anton turned around, releasing the left hand clutching his abdominal wound, and drew a second blade from over his shoulder.
Chapter 793