At the northernmost edge of the Aethel Plain, where Aethel bordered Katepa, lay Heye Valley.
A scouting force hundreds strong was stationed here, keeping close watch over every move of the Cinder Empire and standing ready against any threat.
Once, they had belonged to the Kingdom of Thrace. Several months ago, however, Wilhelm had enfeoffed all of North Aethel to Duke Walter as a single package, and so their allegiance had shifted to the renowned "Wings of Fadlan."
They still wore the winged-sun holy symbol of the Kingdom of Thrace, led tall warhorses, and carried long double-barreled muskets—imported, beyond a shadow of a doubt, from the Cinder Empire.
Over the past few years, the wars among the three great kingdoms had grown increasingly fierce, and the people of the Feanso Continent had come to realize the merits of firearms: long range, high lethality, and a remarkably low threshold for use.
With shifting tides and spreading warfare, people had turned in droves to greedy merchants of Waukeen to purchase weapons hailing from the Cinder Empire for self-defense, making firearms quite common across Feanso.
What these former Fadlanians did not know was that the gold coins leaving their pockets flowed straight into the Cinder Empire's Claubau Military Industry Group, funding the research and production of even more advanced and lethal armaments.
And... those weapons would soon be turned upon them, becoming their waking nightmare.
Piotr McGrath remained the captain of this scouting unit; several years earlier, they had nearly clashed with an advance detachment from the Cinder Empire.
"Men, I fear the situation is growing ever more tense."
The extraordinary fighter raised his silver sword and pointed its tip toward the north, his expression grim.
"Look—since the day before yesterday, wyverns, giant eagles, and hideous beasts I've never seen before have been wheeling over the City of Tahan.
"Muffled sounds I've never heard before have been rumbling from within the city walls, like the low growl of some terrible monster.
"In recent days, even the ground nearby has been trembling and shaking unnaturally. I have a bad feeling about this."
Beside him, an adjutant asked with concern, "Chief, do you think... could it be their emperor? Has the red dragon arrived?"
Piotr shook his head steadily. "It shouldn't be so soon. The Cinder Empire's homeland, the Great Anzetta Wasteland, is far from North Aethel, separated by mountains and rolling hills.
"If they want to transport their armies and supplies to the City of Tahan and complete their preparations for war, it will take at least another month or two.
"And by then, the aid Lord Walter requested will have arrived from across the world: angels from Mount Celestia, mage battalions from the City of All Magic, and rumor has it an incomparably mighty gold dragon revered as the 'Dragon of Dawn' has already descended upon the City of Colin."
Piotr tightened his grip on his scout's silver sword and gazed south, his eyes resolute and his voice steady and firm.
"Lord Walter is one of the few godblood nobles who still holds fast to the glory of Fadlan and abides by the old emperor's teachings. I believe justice will prevail. No matter how powerful that red dragon is, in the end, he stands alone."
"Ch-Chief..."
Suddenly, the adjutant looked up in terror, pointing trembling fingers toward the sky as if beholding some monstrous nightmare.
"What is it?"
Piotr caught the adjutant's alarmed expression and quickly turned his head. An instant later, he froze in his tracks.
"What in the world...?"
Above the distant City of Tahan, hundreds upon thousands of drakes, wyverns, and chimeras surged into the sky, their wings beating in chaotic rhythm. High in the air, they converged into a churning dark cloud, casting mottled shadows across the earth below.
*Roaaar—*
Harsh, discordant shrieks echoed through the air. The beasts above seemed to have spotted the scout unit and began roaring in their direction.
"By Amaunator!"
"They've spotted us!"
The soldiers cried out in panic, scrambling in disarray.
Piotr vaulted onto his horse's back, raised his silver sword high, and bellowed, "Fall back! We must deliver word of this to the south!"
A veteran soldier to his core, Piotr's decisive action steadied the men's morale. The scouts quickly gathered their essential gear, mounted their steeds, and galloped across the flat, open expanse of the Aethel Plain.
Horseshoes drummed against the dirt in a rapid, clattering rhythm, with Piotr riding at the vanguard to direct their flight.
Just then, the earth began to shudder. The warhorses let out panicked whinnies, rearing up on their hind legs and grinding to a halt, throwing less experienced riders from their saddles. Chaos broke out through the scouts' ranks.
"Aaargh!"
"Help! Stop!"
"Dammit, watch the hooves!"
Piotr hauled back on his reins and spun around. He knew full well that this shuddering of the earth was far beyond anything a herd of horses could cause.
Yet his jaw fell slack, his gaze stunned and tinged with despair. Words tumbled numbly from his lips: "Amaunator above, how could there be...?"
*BOOM—*
In the distance, the ground quaked as clouds of dust billowed and thick smoke blotted out the sun. Colossal behemoths forged of steel roared through the smoke screen, charging directly toward them.
Everything in the beasts' path—rocks, trees, wild animals, even earthen mounds—was ruthlessly crushed flat, offering not the slightest resistance.
Watching the steel behemoths rumble closer, the adjutant cried out in terror, "Chief! What kind of monsters are those?!"
"Amaunator preserve us!"
"A calamity! They're walking natural disasters!"
"Curse it all! The City of Tahan didn't have monsters like this just a few years ago!"
Though panic gripped his men, Piotr forced himself to keep calm, coolly taking in the battlefield. He knew he could not afford to lose his head; if he faltered, not only would his unit be wiped out, but all of North Aethel would face a horrifying threat.
After a brief calculation, Piotr swung his silver sword, shouting at the top of his lungs over the deafening din: "Full retreat! These monsters aren't something we can fight!"
Gritting his teeth, he roared, "Afar, take fifty men and head southwest! We split up—word of the Cinder Empire's invasion must reach Lord Walter!"
"Yes, Captain!"
The officer in polished silver armor cracked his whip, pulled hard on the reins to wheel his mount, and led an elite contingent of cavalry charging off to the right, aiming for the narrower valley to the southwest.
In that terrain, while the cavalry's speed would be hampered, those steel behemoths would struggle to squeeze through. Even if his command was annihilated, Piotr was determined to get word out so Duke Walter could prepare.
Yet at that very moment, the steam tanks' turrets traversed swiftly, their heavy gun barrels swinging around until their muzzles pointed squarely at the elite riders.
Looking into those dark, gaping muzzles, Piotr was suddenly struck by an ominous premonition—he remembered the imperial-made cannons the Kingdom of Thrace had purchased.
"Afar! Get out of the way!"
He reached out frantically, screaming until his throat nearly tore, but it was already too late. Afar's detachment had already entered the valley.
*BOOM!*
The steel beast roared with earth-shattering power. The tremendous recoil jerked the hull backward, making the ground shudder beneath it.
A burst of blinding flame erupted from the muzzle, followed by a billowing plume of black smoke.
"No—!"
Piotr rode frantically toward them, wishing he could throw his own body into the cannon's mouth.
Yet the shell had already hurtled from the barrel with an air-shredding shriek. Carving a flat trajectory across hundreds of meters, it struck the sheer cliff face with pinpoint accuracy.
*BOOM!*
Another deafening explosion tore the air. Amidst violent bursts of flame, shattered rock flew in all directions, and dust and grit filled the sky.
The cliff collapsed in an instant. Massive boulders crashed down with thunderous roars, burying the fifty-man elite cavalry unit beneath them.
"No... no..."
Piotr turned deathly pale, shaking his head in utter despair.
The cavalry unit that carried all hope of delivering the message was wiped out, while behind them, the steel behemoths closed in.
He could already smell the acrid stench of gunpowder smoke, feel the grit kicked up by their advance, and see black smoke and steam blotting out the sky above.
The steel beasts did not fire those terrifying cannons again. They simply tracked behind the cavalry, closing the gap at an unyielding pace to the roar of their engines, unstoppable as an avalanche.
Their intent was clear: waste not a single shell, and crush these fragile human riders into paste by brute, simple force.
"Aaargh!"
"Chief, save me—!"
"Ye gods! It's coming right at us!"
The soldiers' screams and the shrill whinnies of dying steeds rose in succession, the sickening crunch of bone and flesh drowned out by the roar of engines.
Riding in the saddle, Piotr could not help but look back. He watched helplessly as trusted men who had followed him for years were overtaken one by one by the tanks, horse and rider alike ground into bloody pulp beneath the iron treads.
Before these behemoths of steel, the riders were no different from roadside pebbles or weeds, doing nothing more than staining the tracks with blood.
A layer of black soot coated Piotr's face, yet his expression was vacant as he murmured to himself, "Could... could that rumor be true?
"Has Lord Amaunator truly forsaken us?"
As an extraordinary fighter, Piotr had fought for Holy Fadlan, clashing with fearsome devils and demons, yet these beasts of steel filled him with a despair unlike anything he had ever known.
He respected Duke Walter deeply and supported his ideal of restoring Fadlan civilization and reviving the old emperor's glory.
—And yet, for reasons he could not articulate, he sensed something entirely new in these war machines, something potent enough to truly upend Holy Fadlan.
More precisely, a new civilization and a new order radically different from the Fadlan of the past.
"No, it cannot be like this... I cannot allow this to happen!
"I cannot watch my comrades die and flee like a coward to die on the run. That is not the way of a proud Fadlanian!"
Soot-streaked and grimacing fiercely, Piotr suddenly vaulted off his horse, wheeled around, and mustered the courage to face the oncoming steel behemoth.
Just as he had done countless times over the years, he leveled his silver sword forward, issuing a challenge to the charging machine.
At this moment, he was like a knight charging a windmill—valiant, yet absurd.
This was the empire's "Great Red Dragon"-class steam tank, its largest and most imposing model. Fifteen meters long and four meters tall, calling it a moving hill was no exaggeration.
*ROAAAR—*
Before the tank even arrived, a gale of howling sand and dust lashed ahead of it, cutting at Piotr's face like knives and blurring his vision until all he could make out was the colossal dark silhouette ahead.
Gripping his silver sword with both hands, he raised it above his head, leapt nearly five meters into the air, and let out a guttural, soul-rending roar: "For Holy Fadlan—!"
Piotr brought the blade crashing down in a diving slash. The silver sword cleaved through the wind with a howling gale, the formidable might of an extraordinary warrior erupting in an instant.
*Clang—!*
A piercing screech rang out. Piotr's blade actually bit deep into the front armor plate of the steel beast!
"Die, you monster!"
Clinging to the hilt embedded in the armor, he prepared to strike again and search for a vulnerable point. He had already recognized this as a construct akin to an iron golem.
Yet before joy could take hold, a violent repulsive force surged outward. The forcefield shield hurled the caught-off-guard extraordinary fighter away, sending him crashing forward.
Piotr slammed hard against the ground. Before he could recover his senses, a massive shadow swallowed him whole. He looked up, only to see the monstrous bulk of the machine bearing down upon him.
"No... no..."
An instant later, the hundred-ton Great Red Dragon-class tank rolled over him with the force of a natural disaster. No matter how the extraordinary warrior struggled and fought back, it was utterly futile.
This was a crushing disparity in sheer mass and scale, like a mortal arm-wrestling a massive dragon—a contest impossible to win.
The sickening crunch of crushed flesh and bone was drowned out by the roar of the engine as the steel behemoth thundered on across the plain, making the earth tremble.
As for crushing these cavalrymen? It had merely been an incidental afterthought.
Even that powerful, seasoned extraordinary warrior Piotr had left behind only a faint scratch on its frontal armor, so slight that one would hardly notice it without looking closely.
Inside the cockpit of the Great Red Dragon-class tank, Gangtie Kuangchao wore a smug grin, his laughter wildly arrogant.
"Hahahaha, driving a tank is so damn satisfying! Especially a monster-grade one like this! Sixteen wheels against four legs—if this isn't a total stomp, what is?"
Suddenly, Gangtie Kuangchao glanced at his interface in surprise and muttered, "Wait... when did I kill a mini-boss?"
[You have slain Scout Captain Piotr (Challenge Rating: 9). Gained 5,000 XP]
He was utterly bewildered, yet pleasantly surprised, feeling as if he had just stumbled upon a tasty little snack.
This was a Challenge Rating 9 boss! In the previous version, it would have taken a whole party just to scrape by against someone like that, yet here he had accidentally run him over without even noticing.
"Times have changed, my lord!" Gangtie Kuangchao marveled.
To the Aethel scout detachment, this was a terrifying catastrophe on par with an earthquake or a tsunami—absolute, unmitigated doom.
Yet to the imperial soldiers piloting the tanks, this had been nothing more than an ordinary march, having merely swept aside a few enemies along the way.
The tanks thundered freely across the vast plains, their true target being the unprepared cities of North Aethel.
Chapter 608