Line of Defense

Inside the Imperial Senate, a tense military council was underway, its core agenda centered entirely on how to respond to the demons' full-scale invasion. Cassius sat upon his throne with a grim, imposing expression. Senators Trump, Duoluo, Mezrolash, Alger, Anthony, and the others sat solemnly in their respective seats. As representatives of the Empire's internal Starfallen factions, the guildmasters of several prominent guilds had also been granted seats. Imperial allies—such as Genesis and Christina—had likewise been invited to discuss the coming war against the demons. Christina cast a sidelong glance at the silver dragons among the seats and muttered under her breath, "Do these silver-skinned reptiles even deserve to stand before His Majesty Cassius? Their elders haven't even grown their wings yet..." Genesis and Adrovel immediately glared at the blue dragon, their eyes blazing with indignation. "Enough." *Tap.* Cassius lightly tapped the tabletop with a finger. The hall instantly fell dead silent, every pair of eyes converging upon him. He surveyed the room and spoke in a calm, measured voice. "Everyone, the Empire did not summon you here to bicker. Right now, we share only one enemy—the demons of the Abyss." Cowed by Cassius's overwhelming presence, everyone held their breath, none daring to speak out of turn. After a long pause, Trump broke the silence. "Lord Adrovel, as a warrior who has spent centuries on the front lines fighting demons, you must possess a wealth of intelligence, yes?" Adrovel gave a slight nod, his expression softening slightly. He rose to his feet and said, "Your Majesty Cassius, distinguished members of the Empire, having repelled demonic incursions many times over the past few centuries, I do have some experience to share." Adrovel extended a hand, and an illusory magical projection appeared midair, capturing the hideous, snarling visages of demons accompanied by their shrill, grating shrieks. He pushed the spectacles up the bridge of his nose and continued, "As is widely known, all creatures of the Material Plane share common traits. Humans, dragons, hippogriffs, mind flayers, and gnomes must all feed. They reproduce through fundamental biological means. However... we share none of these commonalities with demons. "Demons have no need for food; they merely derive a perverse pleasure from devouring living sacrifices... "Their lungs are remarkably resilient, possessing immense resistance to environmental gases, including the miasma of the Abyss, which is lethal enough to poison almost any creature native to the Material Plane. "As for the rest of their life cycle, demons do not age, nor do they die of anything resembling natural causes. "Upon destruction, they return to the unformed chaos of the Abyss, their essence reintegrating into that plane's evil and anarchy..." Tinia tilted her head, thoroughly perplexed. "These guys are so stupid. Don't they like eating chilled, frosty meat and collecting shiny gold coins?" "..." The hall lapsed into silence once more, though this time out of utter speechlessness. After taking a moment to find the right words, Adrovel resumed, "Everyone, please do not treat demons as any sort of ordinary 'living creature,' nor try to fathom their thoughts. Their existence is more akin to... a conscious cataclysm. "Scholars among our kin believe the Abyss seeks to use its creations to drag greater portions of the cosmos back into the primordial dawn of chaos, and demons are precisely those instruments. "Above all, the sole purpose of a demon's existence is to spread chaos and evil—the very essence of the Abyss." Trump pondered for a moment before asking, "In a typical invasion, how many demons can we expect?" Adrovel replied in a heavy tone, "Endless. "The Abyss is far deeper than the six hundred and sixty-six layers known to us. The demons dwelling within likely outnumber every living creature on the Material Plane combined. For that reason, they can never be truly eradicated—only held back. "Demons are infinite, but we can thwart their invasions by sealing demonic portals and exterminating those that cross over into the Material Plane." When it came to the unimpeachably righteous cause of repelling demons, the adult silver dragon held nothing back, laying bare every detail regarding their habits, weaknesses, and abilities. Murmurs immediately swept through the hall as the attendees discussed the intelligence Adrovel had provided. "They truly are troublesome foes." "We've never faced an enemy like this before!" "Wait a minute... fearless of death, chaotic, unhinged... why does that description sound so familiar?" "Now that you mention it, it really does sound like—" Over a dozen curious and scrutinizing gazes swung toward the player guildmasters, leaving them squirming in their seats as though sitting on pins and needles. Gangtie Kuangchao scratched his head, offered an awkward grin, and hastened to pledge his allegiance. "I swear, every single one of us Starfallen is utterly devoted to His Majesty Cassius! We have nothing to do with the Abyss—not by half a copper nar!" The hall erupted into an even more heated debate. People actively discussed various tactics and strategies, from reinforcing border patrols to deploying newly developed weaponry, and from mobilizing the populace for defense to sending in the players as cannon fodder brigades... Representing the military, Duoluo even slammed his hand on the table, declaring with bold bravado that he would lead his legions straight into the heart of the enemy's territory to strike at their lair, never allowing them to set foot on imperial soil. Suddenly, Trump asked with a faint smile, "Lord Adrovel, what would you say is the most difficult aspect of dealing with demons?" Adrovel answered, "Their numbers. There are simply too many of them, and they infiltrate everywhere. If they breach the Empire, it will inevitably spell catastrophe." Trump pressed, "And what is the Empire's greatest advantage?" Adrovel shook his head. "I am a newcomer here and know little of the Empire's military capabilities." Trump stood up, surveyed the assembly, and announced in a resounding voice, "Firepower. Demons bring terror to the people, but as His Majesty once told me..." He paused, turned toward Cassius, and allowed a fawning grin to surface on his grotesque face before continuing. "...terror stems from a lack of firepower." With a broad wave of Trump's hand, several magical projections materialized in midair, depicting the roar of massed artillery batteries. Waves of explosive fire blanketed the vast wasteland. When the smoke cleared, the earth was pitted and scarred in utter devastation, and rolling hills had been sheared down by several feet. Trump went on, "In terms of individual combat strength, the Empire might not hold a distinct advantage, but in large-scale warfare—we will never lose. "When the demons amass in great numbers, we can execute saturation strikes, scouring the earth with artillery fire and giving them quite the surprise." *Thump.* Trump brought his scepter down against the floor, conjuring an enormous map of the Cinder Empire in midair. Across the Empire's vast territory, a crimson line suddenly blazed to life, stretching for hundreds of li and practically enveloping the entire southern frontier. "I trust many of you participated in its construction to some degree, even if you did not understand its purpose at the time. "These fortifications are built of reinforced concrete and are exceptionally sturdy. Within the defense line are artillery emplacements, trenches, redoubts, mess halls, field hospitals, factories, and much more. "Interconnecting tunnels run in all directions, and the larger works even incorporate subterranean steam-train lines. "All of this is thanks to His Majesty's remarkable foresight. From the moment the Empire secured the entire Northlands, we began constructing this line of defense. I call it—" "The Maginot Line?" Gangtie Kuangchao blurted out instinctively. Catching Trump's murderous glare and spotting a system notification warning of declining favorability, he clamped his hand over his mouth at once, wishing he could slap himself across the face. *Why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut? Why did I have to say that out loud?* Only then did Trump retract his venomous gaze and continue, "—the Imperial Wall." Debate flared up across the hall once again. Some voiced enthusiastic support, brimming with confidence in the Empire's campaign against the demons, while others harbored deep skepticism. "Is this the Chief Minister's grand plan?" "Can it really hold them off?" "So that's it! No wonder folks were being hauled off to mine tunnels for secret missions—they were building a wall!" Duoluo remarked with a hint of mockery, "Lord Trump, faced with an invading enemy, your choice was to build a wall? Do you have any idea how many imperial resources that must have consumed? "Are we supposed to cower behind a wall and tremble in fear like those human kingdoms?" Trump replied flatly, "Stretching before the Imperial Wall lies the vast, flat expanse of the Great Savedra Plain. That will become the graveyard... for every single demon." The ogre's tone was chillingly ruthless. His notched ears twitched faintly, and the murderous intent radiating from his eyes gave even Duoluo pause. Only then did Duoluo recall that the Chief Minister before him was an ogre—and a dragon-blooded ogre at that! They were inherently brutal creatures; it was merely the administrative demands of the Empire that forced him to suppress his nature and maintain his composure. Trump's expression softened, and he smiled. "However... Marshal Duoluo. "The demons have not yet launched their full-scale invasion, so the time has not come to rely on the Imperial Wall. Let us first show those demons what two million Starfallen are capable of. "Your Majesty, please review this." Trump turned back to face Cassius on the throne and tapped his scepter against the floor once more, projecting a detailed operational blueprint into the air. Two million Starfallen constituted a force that the Empire could hardly rein in at present. The solution was simple: fling them straight south, wasn't it? "Very good," Cassius said. He tilted his head slightly, faint gleams flickering within his deep, pale-gold pupils. The Emperor's gaze seemed to pierce through thousands of kilometers of distance, looking straight into the darkness and chaos lurking deep within the Anstica ranges, carrying a flicker of anticipation. *** On the Savedra Plain, in the outskirts of Blackstone Keep, lay Leo Village. The once lively village was now entirely deserted. "Old White, are you really not leaving? The imperial detachment came specifically to evacuate civilians. "There weren't many people left in the village to begin with..." "Don't waste your breath trying to convince me. Leave if you want to leave, but this is my home. I'm not going anywhere." The man called Old White exhaled a puff of smoke as he spoke. He looked to be in his fifties, his face weathered by the years. His dark skin was carved with deep furrows, and his rough, calloused hands cradled his cigarette. White was a local of Leo Village, having lived there since birth as the village hunter. The farthest he had ever traveled in his life was to Wright Village, twenty li away, and that had not been a particularly pleasant journey. Under the rule of the Northern Kingdom, he had been a hunter here; under the rule of the Cinder Empire, he remained a hunter—the only difference being that he had swapped the bow on his back for a civilian model of the Foe-Breaker Fire. Over the past few years, most of the village's youth had flocked to the cities to make their fortunes, and White's son was no exception. Now, even the few who had remained behind were being evacuated by the imperial military, all because an invasion of abyssal demons was supposedly imminent. Yet White felt no fear. He was already nearing the end of his years anyway. Fifty-three was considered quite a long life for Northlanders of the past. White wished only to spend his remaining days guarding the home he had occupied for nearly half a century. Besides, he had a decent hunting rifle by his side. *Phoo—* "Wonder what those demons even look like. "Everyone's gone. Guess I'm the only one left." White blew another smoke ring, gazed out at the empty village, and slowly shut the door. Toward the Cinder Empire, he felt no profound sense of loyalty—after all, only a few years had passed—yet neither did he harbor any hatred. If anything, his impression of the Empire was far better than of the old Northlands. After the Empire took over, taxes had dropped considerably. Commoners no longer had to kneel before knights dispatched by the duchies, nor did they have to worry about being seized on a noble lord's whim to become the lowest sort of serf. For that alone, White was genuinely grateful. Still, White disliked the eerie quiet that had settled over the village. He always felt those imperial folk must have poured some sort of bewitching potion down the youths' throats to make them scramble so eagerly for the cities. What White loved most were two new novelties the Empire had brought with it: cigarettes and firearms. Cigarettes helped chase away his gloom, offering a rare bit of pleasure in an otherwise dull and mundane life. They were rather expensive for him, however; it took a prime deer pelt just to trade for two packs from the merchants arriving from the city. Consequently, he treasured every smoke, even saving the spent filters in a small tin box. As for the firearm, it was an indispensable tool for his hunting. Old age and failing strength had left him unable to draw a heavy bow, but the arrival of the rifle had given him a second wind. With that thought, Old White produced the rifle wrapped in layers of cloth and meticulously wiped down the barrel. "Those imperial folks said some undying warriors called 'Starfallen' would be garrisoned in this village. I've never seen someone who couldn't die before." *Creak—* The window pushed open slowly. White peered outside, his sharp hearing picking up a distant commotion. A moment later, he rubbed his eyes in disbelief. At the far end of the village path, plumes of dust billowed as hundreds of figures sprinted toward the village in a chaotic horde. Most were dressed in crude cloth tunics, and some wore nothing at all, sprinting stark naked with wild abandon. "I'm here!" "Wooooooo!" "Take off!" "A village! Finally, time to ransack some houses and smash some pots! That's the true essence of an RPG!" "Holy crap, put some damn clothes on! The holy light is blinding me!" "Where are the NPCs?" "Don't forget the quest to kill demons! This village is our defensive position!" *These are the so-called undying champions, the vanguard of the Empire—the Starfallen?* Old White rubbed his eyes once more, wondering whether he had gone mad or if his failing eyesight was playing tricks on him. Otherwise, why did these Starfallen look identical to the village idiot from the east end?