Lanqi's War

The first day of September, year 1798 of the Solar Calendar. From this day forward, the world changed drastically. The flames of war descended upon the Southern Continent. The Creti Empire, the hegemon of the Southern Continent that had plotted and stirred with ambition for years, launched a total war. With its fully marshaled imperial legions, cutting-edge imperial magitechnology, and terrifying imperial War Gods, it swept across the borders of the Southern Continent's kingdoms with overwhelming force. At the same time, the cardinals of the Resurrection Church residing in the Southern Continent aligned themselves with the Creti Empire. In addition, several major neutral factions that had remained unaligned with either the Creti Empire or the League of Kingdoms chose to aid Creti in its invasion. In the Western Hub Region, the Kingdom of Canbera—home to the headquarters of the United Council of Kingdoms—was the Creti Empire's primary strategic target. Yet, as the kingdom with the greatest overall national power among the member states of the United Council of Kingdoms, it was also the most impregnable strategic stronghold. In contrast, the kingdoms of the central plains, easy to attack and difficult to defend, suffered the fiercest fighting. The rugged, mountainous coastal eastern region formed the third front. The northern coast had not yet come under attack by the Creti Empire, but strategic movements suggested an imperial fleet could strike at any moment, attempting to cut off supplies and maritime transport lines behind the three main fronts. Even so, in the comparatively remote eastern region, several tens of thousands of lives had already been lost within less than twenty-four hours. ... The westernmost edge of the Southern Continent's eastern region. The Zerde Highlands, on the border of the Kingdom of Aloran. The terrain here was treacherous, dominated by jagged peaks and sprawling ravines. With sheer cliffs to its east and dense jungle to its west, the Zerde Highlands were flanked to the north and south by narrow valley passes. It had long served as a vital shield for the Kingdom of Aloran, guarding the throat of the path leading into the hinterlands. Whenever war broke out throughout history, countless martyrs of the Kingdom of Aloran had shed their blood and laid down their lives here to defend their homeland. Against the colossal war machine of the Creti Empire, the Zerde Highlands had predictably become the front line's slaughterhouse. Shrouded in dense gunsmoke, the Zerde Highlands resembled an earthly purgatory. Ancient, once-verdant trees had been blasted to splinters by magic cannons, their snapped trunks charred black, bark scarred with pockmarked shrapnel craters. The lush meadows had been trampled into ruin; the once-vibrant green grass was mangled beyond recognition, and the soil was stained a dreadful dark red with blood. Shattered armor and broken magitech weapons lay strewn across the ground. The overcast sky hung so low it felt on the verge of collapsing, heavy black clouds blotting out the last sliver of sunlight. The entire battlefield was stripped of color, smothered in ash-gray gloom. The pall of death lingered everywhere. Cries of battle and agonized wails echoed through the mountains from every corner of the field, deafening and clawing at everyone's nerves. Amid this living hell, the soldiers of the Kingdom of Aloran fought desperately, building the first line of defense with flesh and blood. Standing firm on the Zerde Highlands was the Urn Star Table Legion, the most elite force of Aloran's western border. Every warrior of the Urn Star Table Legion was an elite who had emerged triumphant from among thousands. Hardened veterans with extensive combat experience, they were led by General Leonard, the border's strongest champion, hailed as the "War God Reborn." He had personally trained Juliana, currently the strongest warrior in the Kingdom of Aloran. Burly and imposing, with eyes burning like torches and a mane like a lion's, he cut a majestic figure. "O God of Combat and War, as Thou hast decreed, I swear with utmost devotion!" Deputy Commander Cotel was a swordmaster renowned across the realm. His sword was so fast ordinary eyes could not track it, leaving only an afterimage in the air. "Neither weary nor idle, strike with all our might!" The soldiers of the Urn Star Table Legion were fierce and valiant. Their silver armor gleamed in the sunlight like heavenly host descending to earth. After days of bloody fighting, the Urn Star Table Legion had finally repelled the Creti Empire's first ferocious assault! The exhausted soldiers felt a surge of energy, their morale rising once more. Standing on high ground and looking down at the devastated battlefield and the surviving soldiers, General Leonard's booming voice carried across the field: "Brave warriors, you are all true heroes! You did not falter before a mighty foe, defending our homeland with your blood and lives! I am immensely proud of your valor! Let those Creti beasts see what the Aloran Iron Cavalry is made of! Today, you are the masters of the Zerde Highlands!" The soldiers roared in unison. Rubbing their fists and brimming with battle lust, they were ready for more. "As expected of General Leonard, mentor to the Immortal Sword Saint Juliana!" "Once Boss Juliana returns from the Hutton Kingdom to Aloran, it will be time for our counterattack!" "It's been years since I last saw her. To think we'll have the chance to fight side by side with her again—just thinking about it makes my blood boil!" Hundreds of pairs of eyes burned with fierce resolve, waiting only for the Creti forces to invade again so they could give them another taste of the invincible Aloran Iron Cavalry. The pride of their legion was Juliana, who had previously departed from the border legion for the royal capital. Years ago, she had even surpassed General Leonard, advancing to Tier 8. Yet just as the soldiers' confidence peaked, they suddenly began exchanging bewildered glances. They could not articulate what was wrong. "What happened?" The moment Deputy Commander Cotel asked the question, he realized the problem. He could not hear anyone else's voice. General Leonard's hand was already on his hilt. An abnormal quiet. It was far too quiet. Even the howling wind seemed to have frozen. Birds and beasts had fallen completely silent, plunged into an eerie stillness. An inexplicable dread seized everyone's hearts—a trembling born from the depths of their souls. General Leonard was the first to sense the anomaly. Years of battle-tested instinct told him disaster had arrived. "Cotel, get to my side! Everyone else, form ranks where you stand and watch for an ambush! Stay sharp and prepare to engage the enemy!" He unconsciously tightened his grip on his weapon, his bronzed face taut as he called out in a low voice. Reading his lips, Cotel rushed to his commander's side at once, his sword already unsheathed, the blade glinting with cold light. The Urn Star Table Legion quickly fell into formation. A dense thicket of longswords rose like stalks of wheat, forming an interlocking sword formation that encircled the battlefield. Everyone's nerves were stretched to the limit, muscles coiled tight as they swept their surroundings, gripping their weapons in preparation for a formidable foe. Yet to their horror, the anticipated assault never arrived. Instead, a thick mist began to drift silently across the battlefield, swallowing the entirety of the Zerde Highlands. The earth beneath their boots grew soft and viscous, as though they were treading through foul mire. "The environment... changed?" They looked around in disbelief. It felt as though they were no longer on the Zerde Highlands at all. Before true panic could set in, even the dark sky seemed to twist and contort, turning into a snarling, monstrous maw—or perhaps the face of a deity—ready to devour them whole. They gazed upward in a stupor. Compared to that gigantic face spanning the sky, they were as insignificant as sesame seeds. Could this truly be achieved through spellcraft? Or rather, if someone could command the entire sky, was that being human, or a god? This had exceeded the boundaries of their comprehension. Before the soldiers could react, the mist surged like a tidal wave and swallowed everything. Leonard felt his vision warp as if he had been cast into another bizarre, inscrutable world. Around him stretched boundless, desolate silence. The world was draped in murky gray, like the depths of the ocean, devoid of all color. Nothing remained save a stifling, lifeless gloom. "It's an illusion! Don't let it deceive you—focus your minds!" General Leonard roared, attempting to shake his comrades awake. Alas, it was already too late. Though he broke free of the phantasm by inflicting severe pain upon himself to focus his will, the other legionnaires were trapped deep within the illusion. One by one, the soldiers stood rigid like puppets, clutching their throats and slowly suffocating in terror. Only Deputy Commander Cotel managed to barely wrench himself free from the trance. At the same time, an invisible, colossal force descended, blanketing the battlefield. Leonard and Cotel felt instantly suffocated. Their movements ground to a halt, as if a weight of thousands of pounds pressed upon their shoulders, rendering them incapable of taking a single step. The same chilling possibility crossed their minds. "Master Leonard! Ignore me and run with all your might! I'll hold him off for you!" Deputy Commander Cotel gritted his teeth, veins bulging as he fought desperately to shatter the invisible shackles. Yet, seasoned swordsman though he was, no matter how hard he resisted, his strength steadily waned. His sword felt like it weighed a ton, impossible to swing even an inch. As Leonard and Cotel struggled desperately, a tall, dark silhouette stepped slowly out from the mist. He wore an ink-black robe and carried a mechanical sardonyx staff. Beneath the drifting mist, his handsome, cold features and indifferent eyes were faintly visible, yet they gleamed with an arrogance that looked down upon all living things. The sheer magical pressure radiating from him caused Cotel to cease his struggling, shuddering uncontrollably. "Third War God... Gyat of the Sardonyx Seat..." Leonard recognized the enemy at a glance, his trembling voice steeped in bleak despair. Compared to Deputy Commander Cotel, he was far more acutely aware of the chasm between them and their opponent. He even felt a sense of relief that his disciple, Juliana, was not here. For even if Juliana were present, she would be no match for Gyat. Gyat offered no reply. He merely raised a single finger, and as though seized by an invisible giant hand that sealed away their movement, Leonard and Cotel sank helplessly to their knees. Like marionettes with their strings severed, they retained not a shred of resistance, blood gushing from their mouths. Several minutes later. When the mist over the Zerde Highlands cleared, only corpses covered the ground. Not a single member of the Urn Star Table Legion had survived. On the ground, discarded communication magitech devices chirped continuously, headquarters in the rear repeatedly inquiring about the front line's status, yet receiving no answer. ... Halgangad Fortress, on the southwestern border of the Kingdom of Posen. This ancient fortress stood majestic, backed by continuous mountain ranges and facing the vast plains, shielding the border cities behind it. Surrounded by mountains on three sides, Halgangad Fortress had only a narrow valley pass to its south where the Royal Army of Posen was stationed, serving as the first line of defense on the kingdom's southeastern border. Smoke drifted over the ruins of Halgangad Fortress. Heavy stone walls were riddled with holes blasted by magitech artillery, rubble tumbling down to kick up clouds of dust. The air reeked of pungent gunpowder and metallic blood. Inside and outside the fortress, severed limbs and sprawled corpses littered the ground, blood soaking the soil to pool into foul, crimson puddles. Enormous black crows wheeled and cawed overhead. The sky was an ominous, bruised crimson that felt as though it was crushing the city beneath it; as twilight fell, it seemed as if heaven and earth were weeping. Shouts of battle, agonized wails, and explosive rumbles echoed incessantly inside and outside the walls, reverberating through the valley to fray every soldier's nerves. Within this hell, the soldiers of the Kingdom of Posen erected a final bulwark with their own flesh and blood. Holding Halgangad Fortress was the Central Army of the Kingdom of Posen. Seven days ago, when the Creti Empire launched its offensive, the Kingdom of Posen had refrained from redeploying its more critical garrison forces stationed directly to the south to counter the invasion. Instead, it mobilized its Central Army with all its might to form an allied defense with the southwestern border garrison. This force was known as the Posen Iron Cavalry. Stationed at Halgangad Fortress were the First and Fifth Legions of the Posen Iron Cavalry. The general of the First Legion, Giovanni, was known as the "Tiger of the Battlefield." Spirited and formidable, his eyes flashed like lightning, and his voice boomed like a bronze bell. General Giovanni was valiant and skilled in battle, having led charges through enemy lines countless times, sweeping aside all before him. Lord Roland, commander of the Fifth Legion, was equally fearless. Advanced in years with snow-white hair, he was a veteran of hundreds of battles, yet his spirit remained vigorous, his weathered face etched with the vicissitudes of war. Every member of the Posen Iron Cavalry was a fierce warrior. Their armor gleamed with a stern chill amidst the smoke, black cloaks billowing in the wind. The Posen royal crest emblazoned across their chests stood out vividly against the reflected artillery fire. Though Halgangad Fortress lay in ruins, the morale of the Posen Iron Cavalry remained resolute. Holding their lances high, they stood in orderly formation atop the battered ramparts, their unyielding faces etched with the determination to face death. Should Halgangad Fortress fall, the towns behind it would inevitably be slaughtered and pillaged, and reclaiming this vital stronghold would be nearly impossible. They had to hold out until reinforcements arrived from the southern Aquitaine Domain. General Giovanni and Lord Roland charged through the surging Creti ranks, drenched in blood. As Tier 7 combatants, they swept across the battlefield with formidable prowess. Even when besieged by numerous Tier 6 foes, they carved a path through the onslaught. "Brave warriors of Posen!" General Giovanni bellowed, his voice piercing the heavens. "The Creti invaders are before us! Let us show them what the Lions of Posen are made of! Show them our unyielding spirit! Let them taste our fury!" "Never retreat!" The soldiers responded in unison. Their resounding cries shook the earth, echoing across the skies of Halgangad. Creti artillery fire grew increasingly dense and the walls threatened to collapse, yet the spirit of the Posen Iron Cavalry only soared higher. They genuinely believed that as long as Halgangad Fortress stood, they could protect the people of Posen to the very end. The Creti Empire's army surged forward like a tidal wave, a sea of dark figures shaking the earth. Spears pierced enemy chests, blades severed heads, and magitech artillery boomed intermittently. Corpses carpeted the ground, but the warriors of Posen vowed to live and die with the fortress, refusing to yield an inch. They understood that behind them lay their homeland, the lives of countless citizens. Even if it meant shedding their last drop of blood, they would fight to defend their realm until their dying breath. "?" Just as the Posen Iron Cavalry mounted their stubborn defense, an inexplicable pressure seized every soldier, as though an invisible hand were strangling their throats, slowing their movements. The sky deepened further, turning an ominous dark crimson, heavy clouds roiling like fresh blood. The earth began to tremble, countless fissures fracturing the ground as blood seeped from the cracks. The warriors of Posen looked at one another, instinctively sensing mortal danger. "Not good! It's a Creti powerhouse!" Lord Roland's face fell, his voice trembling slightly. As an experienced veteran, he recognized immediately that catastrophe was upon them. General Giovanni tightened his grip on his longsword, teeth clenched and body trembling, yet powerless to alter the tide. At that moment, a blood-red comet streaked across the firmament. Trailing a long tail like the fangs of a rabid hound, it tore the sky asunder. A terrifying aura descended upon the battlefield, causing everyone's soul to shudder. Amid this suffocating stillness, a figure plummeted from the heavens, crashing onto the ramparts of Halgangad. The newcomer wore dark crimson heavy plate armor, his cloak billowing like fresh blood, exuding wild arrogance. His short black hair flickered like blazing fire, his eyes burning crimson like coals. His gaze was terrifyingly sharp, and a scorching wave of heat distorted the air around him. The earth was suppressed beneath his aura, the air itself seeming to ignite. Around him, both the soldiers of the Creti Empire and the warriors of the Kingdom of Posen froze in place. "The Creti Empire's Seventh War God... Philip of the Bloodstone Seat." Giovanni choked out the chilling name, his face pale as death. Rumor held that Philip was the most bloodthirsty of the Creti War Gods. He had likely looked forward to this war for a very long time. Philip curled his lips into a cruel smirk and raised his right hand. Scarlet cracks splintered across the ground, the flames rapidly expanding until, in the blink of an eye, they burned like a blazing sun. "The Margrave of Aquitaine isn't here? Then who is left to stand against me?" Philip laughed toward the heavens, his voice laced with mild disappointment. "You? Or you?" Before his words finished echoing, hundreds of fire pillars tens of meters wide erupted like divine punishment from beneath Halgangad, piercing heaven and earth. Countless soldiers were incinerated along with the crumbling walls, their agonizing screams ringing out endlessly. Philip walked forward. Wherever he passed, the warriors of the Posen Iron Cavalry melted like paper dolls before him. "You beast!" General Giovanni roared, bringing his sword down in a ferocious slash toward Philip. Yet before the blade could touch Philip, an invisible force blasted it away. The sword plunged into the earth at an angle and snapped with a thunderous crack. Before Giovanni could react, Philip's fist punched straight through his chest, blood erupting like a fountain. "Not worth looking at." Philip withdrew his bloodied fist, letting Giovanni's corpse collapse to the ground. Tier 7 Lord Roland could not hold Philip off for long either, quickly dissolving into a pool of blood, even his bones utterly liquefied. Several minutes later. Halgangad Fortress fell in sudden ruin. The civilians within the city of Halgangad behind the fortress plunged into panic before the unexpected catastrophe. "Mama, no!" "Someone save us!" "Don't kill her!" Screams and wails echoed through the streets as people fled in every direction, yet found nowhere to run. Terror consumed every heart. The city turned into an ocean of flame as raging infernos swallowed everything. Corpses littered every street and alley, blood flowing like rivers amidst utter devastation. The Creti Iron Cavalry poured into the city like wolves and tigers. They slaughtered not only the defending garrison, but unarmed civilians as well. Amid the flashing blades, neither the elderly, women, nor children were spared. Among the countless casualties, only Philip stood proud, drenched in blood. Looking around at the carnage, he let out a relish-filled laugh—a chilling sound that lingered over the skies of Halgangad for a long time to come. ... The Silva Forest, on the western border of the Hutton Kingdom. This dense primeval forest resembled an endless labyrinth, towering trees blotting out the sun amidst tangled vines and thick underbrush. Its terrain was complex; neither the Creti Empire's forces nor the Hutton Kingdom's troops were keen on venturing deep into its interior. Consequently, it had become a secret passage capable of bypassing the front lines. An elite squad of the Hutton Kingdom's special assassination unit moved through the forest like phantoms, waiting for tonight to stage a surprise raid against the command headquarters of the Creti Empire's Thirty-Second Army. Night fell, cloaking the Silva Forest in absolute pitch. Towering trees cast ghastly shadows like prowling fiends. Leaves rustled in the wind, carrying the heavy scent of moisture. The ground was carpeted in rotting leaves and withered branches, crunching underfoot with every step. The night was thick like congealed ink, impenetrable even to the moonlight. Flitting through the Silva Forest was the Shadow Blade Squad of the Hutton Kingdom's Seventh Special Operations Brigade, composed of six elites. They belonged to the royal family's covert shadow organization, gathering top-tier assassins who could never be acknowledged in broad daylight. The leader of the Shadow Blade Squad was a Tier 7 assassin, slender of build and swift as the wind. Captain Ruino's eyes were sharp as a hawk's, able to see clearly through the darkness. Skilled in brewing exotic poisons, he could claim a life with a single venom-dipped silver needle. Every member possessed unique skills that complemented one another, executing flawless teamwork. Moving like ghosts, they had never failed a mission. This time, they had been ordered to conduct a decapitation strike against the Creti forces stationed outside the Silva Forest. Ruino led his squad through the woods. "Our target this time is the commander and chief of staff of the Creti Thirty-Second Army, an old man," Ruino said calmly. "Once I get within thirty meters of him, he's a dead man. The real difficulty lies in our extraction." "I'll secure our escape route," Vice Captain Catherine added softly, her refined demeanor completely belying her profession as an assassin. "The time to earn distinction has arrived. Normally, we're restricted to clean-up duties and counter-assassination security. Now that this great war has thrown the Southern Continent into chaos, if the League of Kingdoms emerges victorious, perhaps we won't have to live in the shadows anymore. We might find a chance to retire, or even earn nobility, titles, and renown." "Once we retire, will we all go our separate ways?" "Of course not. We grew up together like family. I'll build a house in a small village and wait for you all to come back anytime." To them, this mission was routine. Yet every subsequent mission could prove to be their most vital. While the Shadow Blade Squad moved swiftly and chatted, the wind in the Silva Forest suddenly began to moan. Ruino keenly sensed something amiss. As an experienced assassin, his instincts warned him of approaching danger. He whipped out his dagger, eyes sweeping the surroundings like a hawk as he called out in a low voice. "Watch out, an enemy is approaching." The other squad members snapped into combat readiness, gripping their weapons. Catherine's eyes narrowed. The squad braced as if facing a mortal foe, yet they could not spot a single enemy trace. Something was clearly wrong. Yet despite their assassin training, they could find no trace of their pursuer. Until a faint scent of sandalwood drifted in from an unknown origin, entirely out of place amidst the forest's damp air. Right then, a cultured, gentle voice sounded from directly behind the Shadow Blade Squad. "There is no need for everyone to be so tense. I harbor no hostility." Everyone spun around violently. Never in their wildest dreams did these top-tier assassins imagine someone could approach them unnoticed. What was even more chilling was that although the speaker's tone was mild, a bone-deep frost washed over everyone present, like ice water poured straight into their marrow. Standing beside them was a young man clad in a white robe embroidered with intricate, gorgeous patterns. He had short, pale-gold hair and clear, handsome features. Yet what unnerved them most were his silver eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through the human heart. The man exuded an ethereal, otherworldly aura, entirely discordant with the grim gloom of the Silva Forest. "Who are you...?!" Ruino's expression changed drastically, yet he did not dare strike rashly. Even though the man stood so close of his own volition, Ruino could not sense the slightest opening to assassinate him. "The Creti Empire's Eleventh War God... Simonro of the Emerald Seat," the blond-haired man in white answered. "Look at how lovely the moonlight is tonight. It is no time for bloodshed," Simonro said with a gentle smile, his tone soft as a sigh. "Wouldn't you agree?" "..." No one dared answer. The air congealed; only the ragged breathing of the Shadow Blade Squad could be heard. They all waited for Ruino's order. "If we wish to leave, will you let us go?" Ruino asked heavily. "Of course not," Simonro replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Naturally, I cannot allow you to harm the Creti Empire. Capturing you is inevitable." "Strike!" The instant the words landed, Ruino roared. Being taken prisoner was worse than fighting to the death! Before his voice had fully faded, the dagger in Ruino's hand flew, darting straight for Simonro's throat. In a flash of silver, the dagger struck with pinpoint accuracy. At such close range, Simonro did not fully dodge. Or rather... He had never intended to dodge. The moment the dagger pierced Simonro's chest, it dissolved into specks of light and vanished without a trace. "Now then, could you please calm down? I truly do not wish to harm you." Simonro remained entirely unperturbed. Aside from a tear in his white robe where the blade had struck, the skin beneath was already healed. Yet the members of Hutton's special assassination unit clearly refused to negotiate with Simonro. To their eyes, Simonro had exposed far too many openings. Those meant to attack struck, and those meant to flee ran. However... Every attack dissolved into nothingness three feet away from Simonro, as if slamming into an invisible wall. "Since negotiations have failed, there is no other way." Simonro sighed, a note of finality creeping into his tone at last. The moment he finished speaking, Simonro raised his right hand and clenched his fist. A violent gale erupted. The members of the Shadow Blade Squad were hurled through the air like kites with broken strings. Countless massive trees across the entire forest were uprooted, shedding all gravity! The bone-chilling wind sliced through their flesh like blades, blood spraying through the air. In a single instant... The fleeing squad members crashed to the ground or were impaled upon tree branches, their bodies shredded beyond recognition into countless fragments. Having narrowly avoided a fatal blow, Ruino struggled to stand, drenched in blood and swaying on his feet. "Monster! You monster!" Ruino roared, his eyes nearly splitting at the corners. Yet as a soldier of Hutton, he would never surrender to a mighty foe! "What is the point?" Simonro murmured to himself with a look of pity. A faint smile touching the corner of his lips, he pointed a finger toward Ruino. Just as Ruino focused all his concentration, preparing to dodge the wind blades, feign an attack, and search for a chance to break away... He felt a gentle radiance envelop him. The injuries across his entire body were completely healed. And Simonro was still smiling at him. As if telling him: Even if I heal you completely several more times, what could you possibly do? "..." In that instant, Ruino felt true powerlessness. Birds in the Silva Forest were startled into flight several times. Eventually, the sounds settled into silence. ... Several hours later, in the Kingdom of Posen. As the hub connecting the Kingdom of Aloran to the west and the Hutton Kingdom to the east, its high command was currently in utter turmoil. In the center of Palieu, the City of Flowers and capital of Posen, stood the grand Ministry of Defense building. Constructed from grayish-white marble, six ancient Palieu-style pillars supported a triangular pediment. Stepping inside revealed a spacious hall dominated by a sculptured royal emblem of Posen. Deep within the hall, a spiral staircase led up to the Ministry's core areas. Inside the Operations Center on the third floor of the Ministry of Defense building... Personnel in military uniforms and senior civilian bureaucratic attire hurried back and forth. Communicating through transmission magic, they gathered around an intelligent tactical touch table, conversing with grim expressions. The surface of the table displayed the real-time military deployment map of Posen's borders, glowing dots of various colors representing different branches and troop strengths. "Right now, it's not just us. Even the defensive lines of Aloran and Hutton have suffered catastrophic blows; there's virtually no point in hoping for reinforcements." The intelligence officer circled several flashing red dots on the screen with a magitech stylus, his tone heavy. At present, they relied entirely on the strongest Western Hub Region to draw Creti's main firepower, or the situation in the east would be even worse. "Our expeditionary force in the southwest has lost nearly a third of its strength. The surviving units are retreating south. At this rate, even if we can reinforce the defenses of the South Aquitaine Domain, we might as well prepare to abandon the southwest entirely." Watching the shifting data on the screen, he spoke with a dark countenance. Amidst the rising clamor... Footsteps echoed as a figure ascended the staircase to the third floor. Several people immediately rushed over to surround him. "Lieutenant General, the border is requesting reinforcements. Should our Central Army continue to deploy?" They hurriedly questioned Nigel, who was now a lieutenant general. "...Let the Senate decide. Personally, I don't see much point in sending more reinforcements to the southwest." Nigel shook his head with tired eyes, appearing equally at a loss. With unrest erupting on all fronts, Nigel was not the type of general who would easily rush to the front line, but if the war truly reached the City of Flowers, he would serve as the commander of the final line defending the capital. His duty was just as critical. What was more, even if he went, he likely could not turn the tide of battle. At this moment, he could not help but think of his late mentor. If he possessed strength as formidable as Perlman's, perhaps he truly could have played a pivotal role on the front lines. After the battle during that night in the capital, he once again grasped the truth that "standing on the brink of life and death makes demon warriors stronger." If a long-lived species could not cast aside their notions of mortality and learn to burn their finite spark like short-lived beings, rapid growth was impossible. The fragment of [Palroni's Record of Resentment] forcefully implanted into him by Perlman had nearly merged into one with him. Upon regaining his senses, he had chosen not to excise it, striving instead to suppress and master its power on his own. If the day came when he had to face another Tier 8 powerhouse, he might need to rely on this barely legendary-tier berserk state to have any hope of standing against them. After briskly dealing with the surrounding officers and officials, Nigel walked straight toward the rear. On one side of the third floor lay a lounge area. Lanqi and Talia were sitting there drinking tea. "Nigel, you're here." Noticing Nigel, Lanqi smiled. Because of disrupted transportation, he and Talia had been stranded in the Kingdom of Posen for nearly a week. They monitored the battle reports and transit news every day, and the person looking after them on Posen's behalf had gradually shifted from Countess Rosalinda to Nigel. With war breaking out, Countess Rosalinda, as a Platinum-rank card maker and magitechnology expert, had immediately been drafted into the military engineering department, working around the clock. "Lanqi, Tata, I am so sorry. The situation has worsened, and we currently have no way to escort you back to the Hutton Kingdom. Aside from major strongholds like Palieu with core defensive grids, any other stop along the mana rail lines could be perilous." Removing his military cap, Nigel sat down opposite them and bowed his head. What he brought today was still not good news, but the grim reality that their stay would be prolonged indefinitely. International transit lines were frequently targeted, with fewer usable stations and routes by the day. No one knew which stop might fall along with its city. Attempting to return to the Hutton Kingdom via the few remaining mana rail lines carried too many variables. Currently, the safest route would be to travel east within the borders, switch to small vehicles after crossing the border, and cut through several small countries in the eastern region to reach the Hutton Kingdom on the easternmost edge of the Southern Continent. Even so, that would take an immense amount of time and carry extreme risk. "Your status as researchers is significant enough for the Creti Empire to dispatch a force capable of intercepting you. In the worst case, if your itinerary leaks, you will face near-certain death." Nigel added a word of caution. Though the Creti Empire's main force would not march directly into Posen territory anytime soon, their high-tier assassins could launch surprise raids, and once beyond the border, there was even the risk of crossing paths with a War God. "It's fine. We already prepared ourselves for this when we learned war had broken out. We're actually relieved we didn't rush off the moment we woke up, or we might have been intercepted halfway." Lanqi shook his head and gave Nigel a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Last time, dealing with the formidable Tier 8 Perlman had already pushed them to their limits. They had only won by relying on their anti-demon lord synergy and outmaneuvering Perlman twice. Crossing paths with any imperial War God would likely spell disaster. Furthermore, even if raw strength was comparable, elemental or tactical counters could completely tilt the fight into a one-sided slaughter. For instance, Talia's mental magic was ineffective against alchemical biological constructs, so facing Decay Cardinal Farmer would leave her with virtually no chance of victory. "Lanqi, Tata..." Nigel's expression turned somewhat bitter, as if finding it difficult to speak. Waiting for an opportune moment to arrange Lanqi's return remained the safest choice. At the very least, during this period of peak turmoil, the Kingdom of Posen was struggling just to protect itself. "Could I ask you to temporarily serve as our magitech engineers?" Looking at the two of them, Nigel finally managed to ask. He already owed Lanqi and Tata a heavy debt of gratitude. Now that the Kingdom of Posen could not safely escort them home and was instead asking them for help, it felt uncomfortably like returning kindness with demands, filling him with guilt. "No problem." Lanqi glanced at Talia, then nodded and agreed straightforwardly. Nigel was a comrade who had walked through life and death with them; there was nothing to hesitate over. "Thank you. That is a massive help." Nigel let out a breath of relief. It was not just the aid of two Platinum-rank card makers acting as magitech crafters; the Kingdom of Posen currently lacked top-tier combatants, and having them around brought Nigel some peace of mind. Suddenly... The communication device at Nigel's ear chirped. "Lieutenant General Nigel, we just received intelligence that the second defense line on the southwestern border is on the verge of collapse." A voice accompanied by static came through. "How could it fall so quickly?" Nigel stood up instantly. Lanqi also wore a puzzled expression. He had kept an eye on the front lines; though he lacked authority to command operations, he had offered several recommendations in his capacity as a technical advisor. "It's Philip, the Seventh War God of the Bloodstone Seat! He's gone mad—he's launched a second wave of attacks!" "..." Upon hearing this, Nigel's expression froze. "Forgive me, Lanqi, Tata. I must go verify the situation. If necessary, I will head to the front lines myself." After finishing the transmission, he spoke apologetically to Lanqi and Talia, preparing to depart. Lanqi and Talia exchanged a look. "Nigel, what level of power do the War Gods actually possess?" Without delaying Nigel, they kept pace with him and asked as they walked. Lanqi had only ever heard of the Twelve War Gods through rumor. But as for their actual power, listening to alchemy students at Ikerite Academy debate combat rankings was nowhere near as accurate as asking a genuine Posen general like Nigel. Nigel fell silent for a moment. "Against the strongest among the War Gods, our Kingdom of Posen does not have a single individual capable of standing toe-to-toe with them. Perhaps only High Priest Loren from your kingdom could face a War God directly." "Apart from the First War God, Hyacinthus, are there other figures in the Creti Empire stronger than Loren?" Lanqi pondered for a moment before pressing further. From what he knew of the Creti Empire, setting aside the Blood Clan, the strongest should be Hyacinthus, the apex warrior of the Southern Continent. The Extinction Cardinal of the Northern Continent, the origin of the term "super-cardinal level strength," had long been spoken of in the same breath as Hyacinthus of the Diamond Seat, leader of the Creti Empire's Twelve War Gods. In Lanqi's eyes, Loren was a pinnacle-tier powerhouse whose renown spanned the entire Southern Continent, his might unquestioned by all. Lanqi did not know precisely how much stronger Hyacinthus was compared to Loren. Yet it seemed clear that Loren had not yet reached Hyacinthus's caliber. "...There are likely three or four who surpass Loren. No offense intended, but I am merely stating the facts. Among the Twelve War Gods, Loren would rank near the upper tier, but not at the very top." Nigel shook his head. "..." Lanqi and Talia exchanged another glance. They had full confidence in Nigel's intelligence and judgment. Nigel was an exceptionally dependable ally. By comparison, an infamous counterexample was the Ice Snow Witch, whose intelligence never seemed to be accurate. "Nigel." Lanqi suddenly called out to him, having Boss Cat erect a Sound-Sealing Barrier at the same time. Realizing Lanqi had something important to discuss, Nigel paused his steps. "Tata and I will do everything we can to assist Posen's rear during this time. But could you find a way to secure me an identity and an infiltration route—something that would let me disguise myself as a merchant or something similar to slip into the Creti Empire from the southern Aquitaine Domain?" Lanqi looked steadily at Nigel and asked. In the Kingdom of Posen, he could not ask this of anyone else, nor could he trust anyone else. Only Nigel possessed his complete confidence. Lanqi had never been fond of frontal clashes. But when it came to building a new enterprise in the enemy's backyard, an expert had arrived.