The Beginning

Savedra Plain, the Imperial Wall. A biting, freezing gale blew across the land, surging into the fortress ventilation shafts with piercing shrieks. Across the vast wasteland, all signs of life had vanished under gloomy, darkened skies. Even the falcons skimming low across the plains flew with frantic panic, as though heralding a looming catastrophe. Inside the bunker, officers and soldiers were caught in a flurry of activity, marching hurriedly through corridors connecting the various sectors. Meanwhile, the resounding voice of Imperial Field Marshal Duoluo boomed with crystalline clarity from the loudspeakers: "Soldiers! What lies before us is an ordeal of supreme agony and gravity... "You ask: What is our aim? I can answer in a single word: Victory! Victory at all costs! "For without victory, there is no survival. You must all realize this: without victory, the Cinder Empire ceases to exist, and all that Cinder stands for is lost! "Twelve years ago, His Imperial Majesty Cassius founded the Cinder Nest with his own claws. In the years since, from nest to kingdom, and now to empire, we have never tasted defeat! "And today shall be no different! "Twelve days ago, demons attacked Trier Mine. "Nine days ago, demons attacked Storm Heights Pasture. "Three days ago, demons attacked Mar City. "Yesterday, demons attacked the train bound for Isdalia. "These demonic vermin from the Abyss have swarmed out in full force! They wish to tear down the imperial order and annihilate everything we hold dear! "As warriors of the great red dragon, as the subjects of His Majesty Cassius, we will never tolerate such an insult, nor will we suffer this demonic invasion! "The empire is vast, but we have nowhere left to retreat! Behind us lies Isdalia!" ... In a command post within the bunker, George leafed through supply reports. Listening to the speech echoing over the broadcast, he casually remarked, "Field Marshal Duoluo still loves being in the spotlight as much as ever." "Enter." An officer knocked and strode briskly inside, presenting the latest dispatch. "Commander, high command sent a coded telegram. Our position may be the very first to take the demons' charge." "Mhm, acknowledged. Tell the men to brace themselves mentally and stay on high alert at all times. Don't let them think war is a walk in the park. Remember, this isn't a battle to farm glory, and demons are nothing like those soft Northlanders." George set down the paper report, his voice low and sober. Rising from his seat, he looked at the map pinned to the wall. Gazing at the dense cluster of tactical markings, the corner of his mouth curved slightly upward. "Still... whether they can even breach our lines today remains to be seen." George turned his head toward the desolate wasteland visible through the embrasure. The epaulets on his shoulders—bearing the golden wyvern insignia of a colonel—gleamed under the bunker lights. The Imperial Wall. This colossal defensive line stretched for hundreds of li, constructed from reinforced concrete of immense durability. It comprised three main sectors: the Hosey Fortified Region, the Ter Fortified Region, and the Lower River Valley Region. The engineering works were most heavily fortified in Hosey and Ter, while the Lower River Valley relied on the Inaki and Auril Rivers as natural barriers. Along the defense line lay an exhaustive array of artillery, trenches, bastions, kitchens, field hospitals, and munitions factories; the larger fortifications even featured dedicated rail tunnels for steam locomotives. Across the entire line stood two hundred and seventy-six regimental command posts, all connected by transceivers for real-time communication. A total of five hundred and fifty thousand troops stood ready in strict formation. This was a scale of warfare unprecedented on the soil of Anzeta; for a millennium, the Scanians had never seen a conflict of this magnitude. The war potential accumulated by the empire over the years was fully unleashed at this moment. Mobilizations swept every territory, and train after train loaded with soldiers and supplies rushed south. Factoring in logistical personnel, the number of people committed to this war easily approached a million. And if one counted indirect participants, it was fair to say that the entire empire had thrown itself into this grand Patriotic War. This terrifying war machine was operating at full throttle. Yet the empire's foe was by no means inferior: an abyssal demon horde that had razed countless mortal kingdoms and butchered mortals beyond count over endless ages. The abyssal host was a true slaughtering machine—monsters who reveled in rivers of blood, savored agony and torment, and existed solely to propagate evil, terror, and chaos. The collision between empire and Abyss was about to begin. "Commander, another update just arrived." "Speak." "Last night at 9:45 PM, communication was lost with the front-line outpost at Leo Village. At 10:21 PM, communication was lost with Ander Village outpost. At 11:45 PM, communication was lost with Akkad Village outpost... By now, nearly every Starfallen outpost has fallen. Most Starfallen have respawned at the resurrection circles, leading to significant crowding and stampedes." George frowned. "That fast?" Even if the Starfallen lacked individual might, there were over a million of them! Their outposts spanned more than a thousand villages. Even if one were slaughtering a million pigs, it would take more than three days, yet in a single night, every Starfallen position had crumbled? This could only mean one thing: the strength of the abyssal legion surpassed his wildest expectations. George drew the ornate pistol from his hip, gently wiping it with a handkerchief. "How long until they reach the Imperial Wall?" The adjutant swallowed hard, his voice heavy. "According to high command... approximately... right now." The adjutant's tense words echoed in the room. Suddenly, George felt the bunker tremble faintly. Ripples formed across the surface of the water cup sitting on his desk. He stood up and looked out the window once more. Then, he drew in a sharp breath, his gaze turning grave. Even for a battle-hardened veteran like George, who had survived countless engagements, he had never witnessed a spectacle like this. "Cassius above..." In the distance, a raging deluge had appeared, sweeping over almost the entirety of the wasteland and smearing the horizon in a chaotic muddle of hues. Yet what surged within that flood was not water, but demons. The lowest, most expendable dretches jostled forward in dense clusters, screeching in cacophonous, grating shrieks. Among them darted crimson-skinned, gaunt, and diminutive babaus, moving like phantoms as their shrill cackling echoed all around. Boom! Boom! Towering silhouettes strode heavily across the cursed earth. Every step shook the ground beneath them, and billowing plumes of smoke snorted from their nostrils. Their unnaturally long arms were thick as tree trunks, topped by the disdainful, fiendish heads of wild bulls bearing massive horns that swept forward—goristros. Strapped to the heads and shoulders of these goristros were wooden platforms carrying lean demons armed with poisoned arrows and wands, turning them into walking siege fortresses. Forming tight legions, powerful mid-tier demons like hezrous and barlguras roared out battle cries, charging fanatically toward the distant bunkers. And in the skies, quasits, chasmes, vrocks, and others beat their wings, scraping against one another as they unleashed raspy, grating cries. The demons blotted out half the sky, spreading like churning storm clouds and casting a dizzying blanket of shadow across the earth. The entire south was plunged into gloom; the sun was smothered by the demonic tide, unable to shed a single ray of light upon the ground. And this was only the beginning. From the distant snow-capped mountains, demons poured northward like torrents, blanketing mountains and valleys with no sign of slowing. Within George's line of sight alone, there were likely several hundred thousand fiends. Moreover, in terms of individual prowess, those battle groups of thousands of hezrous and barlguras were far beyond what ordinary imperial soldiers could match. This was beyond question the most terrifying adversary the empire had faced in all its history. For the first time, self-doubt crept into the hearts of many soldiers in the bunkers: Could they truly defeat such demons? Could the empire withstand this tide of fiends, let alone launch a counteroffensive? Gazing at the raging demonic tide, George looked grim. Yet in his mind rose the memory of several years ago, when the red dragon spread its wings and threw back its head to roar. Before that, back when he had been a mere serf, George had also believed the armies of the northern nobles were invincible. With that thought, George glanced at the unnerved adjutant beside him. Continuing to wipe down his pistol, he spoke with calm, unwavering certainty: "The empire will prevail... "Just as it always has."