"...Following protracted and grueling combat, Alliance forces have pushed into the territory of Haibei City and successfully linked up with the Legion's 37th Myriad entering Haiya Province from the north. The dawn of peace has finally broken over Haiya Province, which has languished so long under the Torch's grasp."
"Fearing judgment before a war crimes tribunal, the high leadership of the Church of the Torch chose exile into outer space after their stubborn resistance crumbled."
"Currently, the campaign in Haiya Province has entered its final phase. The Coalition forces now control over 87 percent of the theater of operations, more than ninety percent of the 'Kingdom of Heaven's Domains' have been dismantled, and the corruption of Na fruit is being steadily purged from this sacred land."
"Facing the irresistible momentum of the Coalition forces, the Church of the Torch's resistance has grown increasingly sluggish. Surviving Torch Apostles and their mutant backers have retreated from the Guangtian City frontline toward Mount Luosong, attempting to use the treacherous terrain to make their final stand. Yet they will soon discover that their death throes are futile, and that their only way out is unconditional surrender and repentance before the dead."
"As of yesterday evening, the Alliance's Jungle Corps and Storm Corps are advancing on Mount Luosong along two separate routes, while Alliance armored units have completely sealed off every possible escape route for the Torch remnants. In an interview with our correspondent, the commander of the Storm Corps stated that they will not fail the expectations of the Alliance's people; they will strike a devastating blow against the instigators of chaos, sweep across the battlefield like a tempest, and bring victory and glory home to Dawn City!"
"Reporting for you—*Survivor Daily*, Dawn City Edition!"
***
Singularity City, Pinecone Wood Farm.
Flurries of snow dusted the barren, leafless fruit trees, beyond which stretched endless rows of field ridges.
Sitting on the balcony, Frost flipped through the newspaper in its hands, a bright, sunny smile on its face.
"Oh, Eclipse, this damned war is finally coming to an end. Good times are about to return at last."
"Perhaps."
Unlike the smiling Frost, Eclipse seemed somewhat wistful about never having been deployed to the frontline.
Noticing its expression, Frost asked in confusion, "Is it just my imagination, or are you not in the best of spirits?"
Eclipse's pupils flickered slightly, speaking in a thoroughly matter-of-fact tone.
"It is not your imagination. My spirits are indeed mediocre... After all, the entire war is over, yet I served no purpose whatsoever. I truly feel ashamed before the taxpayers of Ideal City."
Frost looked at it in surprise.
"How can you say that about yourself? We supplied so many provisions to the front! Even the esteemed Administrator said our contribution was indispensable for this war to reach victory so smoothly."
Listening to the chattering beside it, Eclipse sighed softly and continued expressionlessly, "Be that as it may, I am, after all, an android designed for wartime purposes. No matter how brilliant my accomplishments might be in other fields, if I cannot play a role on the open battlefield, I'm afraid it is difficult for me to feel joyful."
"Well... you actually think that way." Frost's face fell, looking thoroughly dismayed by its companion's response.
Standing beside the two, Yinyin, who had not spoken a single word the entire time, stared unblinkingly toward the south.
Ever since this war began, she had spent a portion of every day gazing blankly at the southern sky.
As if catching sight of something, she suddenly broke the silence without warning.
"...I can barely feel their presence anymore."
Her consciousness resided within the bionic chip left behind by Luo Qian, which was the sole reason she had survived in digital form after her physical death.
Because the chip hosting her mind was built on algorithms similar to those used by the other Harbingers of the Church of the Torch, she had always retained a faint, vague awareness of the presence of other bionic chips belonging to the Church.
And as the frontlines pushed forward, her perception of those chips had grown fainter and fainter.
Just as *Survivor Daily* reported, the Torch was losing its grip on the ground—
Hardly any Apostles carrying those chips remained!
Watching the lost-in-thought Yinyin, Frost offered a warm smile.
"Isn't that wonderful? Those lunatics are finally being chased off this planet."
Yinyin let out a gentle sigh and murmured in a small voice, "If only that were truly the case... but I keep feeling they won't give up so easily."
Even now, she vividly remembered the tragedy that had unfolded at this very estate.
Under the corruption of Na fruit, all the gentle, kind-hearted people had transformed into ghastly fiends... and even she had once lost control, sinking into that same abyss.
The living hell in Jinchuan Province had been brought to a close, and from the bottom of her heart, she wished those wicked things would never return.
Yet they would clearly never let the matter rest.
Not the ones who had engineered that nightmare, nor the puppeteers pulling their strings from the shadows.
Noticing the anxiety in the young girl's eyes, Frost hoisted itself out of the chair with an energetic grunt, placed a gentle hand on her head, and offered her a dependable smile.
"Don't worry."
Meeting Yinyin's bewildered gaze, it continued in a gentle voice, "...When that day comes, we'll just drive them away all over again."
***
At the very moment the Burning Corps linked up with the Legion's 37th Myriad at the ruins of Haibei City, the Jungle Corps, pushing inland from another stretch of the coast, finally arrived at the Mount Luosong area and successfully rendezvoused with the Storm Corps advancing south into Haiya Province.
Watching the towering figure with a steel plate welded across his chest stride toward him, Brother Spring laughed heartily in high spirits and stepped forward to greet him.
"You guys are slacking, Brother Chicken! We're practically wrapping this up, and you've only just hit the beach!"
Midnight Chicken Slaughter chuckled amiably.
"Ever consider the possibility that you only pushed this fast because we landed?"
Commander Spring waved a hand with a laugh.
"Pfft, give me a break! You think these green-skinned beasts could stop my thirty-seven-millimeter cannons? As for you lot, if you'd landed a few days later, you wouldn't have even gotten a taste of the broth!"
Midnight Chicken Slaughter rolled his eyes.
"Keep dreaming!"
"Hahaha!"
The two exchanged casual banter, completely devoid of the tension typical of soldiers on the front lines, even though the Torch's Inquisition squads and mutant scouts were active in the mountains just a stone's throw away.
Several scout companies under the Storm Corps had already penetrated deep into territory under the Torch remnants' actual control, designating their strategic installations and suspected high-value targets.
At the exact moment the two corps linked up, the Storm Corps' artillery batteries were fully sighted and primed.
With a single order, they could turn the Torch remnants' positions into a roaring sea of fire!
On the other side, the Torch remnants holed up around Mount Luosong were steeped in rock-bottom morale, stripped of every shred of the arrogance they had displayed during their campaigns across Jinchuan and River Valley provinces.
Every soul who had fled here—be they Apostles, Inquisitors, or mutants—had suffered at least three crushing defeats, thoroughly battered and bewildered by the Coalition forces on the open battlefield.
Nor was that all.
Throughout their retreat south, Alliance aircraft had buzzed overhead every couple of days, casually dropping aerial bombs just to make some noise.
Having endured relentless bombings and strafing runs along the way, many had been frightened out of their wits by the roar of aircraft engines, scrambling frantically for cover at the slightest sound from the sky.
Though the terrain on Mount Luosong was rugged, it was nowhere near as precipitous as the Ten Peaks.
Standing atop a craggy, boulder-strewn ridge, the Human Emperor stared impassively at the distant Alliance positions, a faint sorrow slowly welling in his chest.
No matter how deep his unwillingness, he had to admit that the Kingdom of Heaven in Haiya Province had arrived at its final hour.
Yet what surprised him was that when he realized the end was upon him, he was far calmer than he had imagined.
It was as though he had already accepted this ultimate conclusion.
Just then, heavy footsteps echoed from the mountain path. An Apostle clad in power armor halted behind him and lowered his voice.
"Respected Harbinger, we have lost contact with our base in Haibei City... I attempted to reach headquarters earlier, but the Holy Son's signal appears to have vanished."
His name was Baskin, an Apostle serving in the Iron Blade Knights and the commander of the order.
The Apostles who had retreated to Mount Luosong numbered only 677 in total, a figure that included 417 adjudicators from the Inquisition and a handful of non-combat researchers.
As the most intact formation remaining, the Iron Blade Knights had only 120 men left, hardly enough to weather the attrition of another engagement.
Though over four thousand mutants remained on the front lines, turning the tide with cannon fodder alone was impossible.
They needed reinforcements!
Personnel, equipment, even just a trickle of weapons and ammunition!
He wanted to learn the Holy Son's whereabouts from the Human Emperor, convinced that the omnipotent Holy Son must still hold another trump card!
Yet to his profound disappointment—and creeping despair—the Human Emperor merely gave a slight nod upon hearing that the Holy Son had vanished.
"I see."
As his words fell, silence returned to the air.
Baskin froze, looking at the unmoved Human Emperor, a rare flicker of desperation surfacing in his eyes.
"My Lord..."
The Human Emperor turned, fixing him with a tranquil gaze.
"Is there anything else?"
He felt no surprise at the Holy Son's departure; his only surprise was that the fellow had managed to leave before him.
It seemed the Alliance had gleaned intelligence elsewhere and uncovered Shelter 20 before mopping him up.
None of it mattered anymore.
This was the final hour.
Feeling a chilling dread of the unknown from that serene gaze, Baskin's Adam's apple bobbed. At last, he forced a trembling question from his throat:
"What... what do we do now?"
*What do we do...*
Hearing that voice quivering with despair, a touch of bitterness finally creased the Human Emperor's placid face.
He too wished to know what on earth they should do.
Yet at this juncture, anything they did seemed utterly futile.
For a fleeting moment, he felt a sudden twinge of guilt toward those who had followed him.
He had promised to guide them to the Kingdom of Heaven, yet in the end, he could only watch helplessly as the crushing pull of gravity dragged them back down into the dirt.
The collapse of the Kingdom of Heaven was inevitable; there was no reason for them to drown alongside him.
After a brief silence, the Human Emperor spoke.
"Flee from here."
Baskin stood stunned, staring at the Human Emperor in sheer disbelief, unable to accept that such words had come from his lips.
Yet that revered Harbinger continued uttering those heretical words:
"Go find some corner of the wasteland where no one knows you, somewhere the Alliance cannot reach. Bury your ideals, your names, and your past in the dirt, and live out your lives under assumed identities—"
"No!"
Baskin suddenly roared in fury, cutting the Human Emperor off mid-sentence.
In that instant, he looked like a wounded beast, his bloodshot eyes streaked with terrifying crimson veins.
Glaring fiercely at the expressionless Human Emperor, he balled his fists and ground out every word:
"I came to you seeking a way to keep fighting, not instructions on how to drag out an ignoble existence! If such a humiliating end awaits us, I would rather perish in the final moment of the Kingdom of Heaven's fall!"
Listening to the Apostle finish, the Human Emperor remained silent for a long time, then let out a gentle sigh.
"Is that so... Then I respect your choice. I acknowledge that you are a true warrior who has fought for your ideal to the very end."
Baskin's lips twitched. Looking at the Harbinger who had seemingly surrendered to fate, he pleaded in a trembling voice, "Is there truly no hope left?"
The Human Emperor shook his head.
"...Most likely not."
With those words, he slowly lifted his head, casting his gaze toward the sky ahead, and softly murmured to himself:
"They're here..."
Barely had the words left his mouth when a majestic silhouette broke through the distant sky right on cue.
An indestructible bow cleaved through the clouds, baring massive 400-millimeter gun barrels and an imposing armored frame sheathed in steel plate.
The *Heart of Steel*!
The prolonged blast of its horn sounded like the opening fanfare of the final assault.
Gazing at the leviathan cruising steadily into the airspace above the battlefield, the Human Emperor's impassive expression softened slightly, and the taut cord in his heart slackened into deep release.
The moment had finally arrived.
It was all over...
In his chest, there was neither madness nor despair—only the weightless peace of absolute liberation...
At the same time, standing not far behind him, Baskin's bloodshot eyes went wide with stark terror.
Especially when he saw the blazing eruption of fire from the muzzle of that 400-millimeter main gun, he felt as though the blinding glare was searing his retinas, the blood in his veins boiling as if pumped full of molten rock.
"Prepare for battle!!"
Screaming with every shred of strength in his body, he threw all his power into dashing toward the nearest bunker.
He would never concede the Torch's defeat!
Never!
Almost the instant he dove into the dugout, the shell plummeting from the heavens slammed into the peak, its blistering shockwave and roiling black smoke instantly sweeping across the entire mountainside!
*Boom—!*
The boiling inferno surged like erupting lava; wherever it passed, nothing remained but scorched earth!
The avalanche of dirt and shattered rock pouring through the entrance nearly buried Baskin alive inside the bunker.
And he was among the fortunate.
Those Apostles near the point of impact—especially those who had failed to reach shelter in time—were blown into nothingness by the cataclysmic blast, leaving not even ash behind!
Baskin struggled to shove aside the rocks and soil pinning him down, barely clawing his way out of the dugout, and looked around in sheer terror.
And right then, an unforgettable scene burned itself into his despairing eyes.
*Wroooom—!*
A dense rain of fire blanketed the heavens as shrieking rockets merged into an unbroken canopy of death across the sky.
The piercing whine of proximity sirens dominated the battlefield, drowning out even the thunder of detonations.
Before this apocalyptic firepower, mechanical exoskeletons and power armor alike crumpled like paper.
He had barely poked his head out of the dugout when the concussive blast of an explosion left him dazed and disoriented, sending him stumbling back inside.
Clearly, the Alliance treated this engagement as the final decisive showdown just as they did; they had no intention of conserving ammunition, nor any thought of holding back.
Amid the shrieking rockets, W-2 ground-attack aircraft swarmed like locusts, their autocannons hammering out an unbroken roar as they unleashed volley after volley of heavy fire across the pulverized earth.
The adjudicators of the Inquisition were thoroughly shell-shocked.
Even the Apostles of the Iron Blade Knights could only curl into the mud under the murderous barrage, howling and pleading for mercy.
Even the mutants, who knew nothing of the concept of death, shrieked in terror beneath the baptism of artillery.
"Roar—!"
A wounded mutant scrambled out of a trench, brandishing a shotgun and firing wildly into the sky.
It tried to swat down the aircraft wheeling overhead, yet couldn't even graze their silhouettes.
Its roar of impotent rage achieved nothing, serving only to make it look like a tragic clown.
Right then, the distant thunder of heavy artillery finally subsided, replaced by the rattle of rifle fire closing in on Mount Luosong from all directions.
Hulking figures clad in K-10 "Iron Wall" exoskeletons spearheaded the assault.
Wielding bolters in one hand and chainswords in the other, they surged up the slopes like a flash flood roaring uphill.
Finally spotting a visible enemy, the concussed mutants howled and charged, attempting to teach their foes a bloody lesson with rifles and spiked clubs.
Yet before they could close the distance, the barking bolters blew them into clouds of shredded flesh and gore, leaving them to collapse into the blackened muck.
Even so, the mutants held the advantage in sheer numbers, and shielded by cybernetic limbs and ballistic armor, a lucky few managed to breach the dense wall of fire.
One mutant finally lunged in front of the heavily armored giants.
Yet before it could scream and bring down its battleaxe, a thrusting chainsword ripped open its chest, cleanly bisecting it at the waist.
"Madness! Absolute madness! Hahaha!"
Caught in the thrill of the slaughter, Midnight Chicken Slaughter roared ecstatically, drenched from head to toe in the crimson spray.
Beholding that demonic silhouette, the surrounding mutants were terrified out of their wits, momentarily forgetting who was supposed to be the man-eater and who was the meal.
It was not just the mutants who were petrified; the adjudicators of the Inquisition and the Apostles of the knight order were gripped by identical dread, terrified of that harbinger of doom drawing anywhere near them.
Watching the towering figure stride toward him, Baskin swallowed hard, his knees quaking uncontrollably.
Even though he wore power armor, the thick steel failed to grant him the slightest sense of security.
Midnight Chicken Slaughter came to a halt, looking down at the half-buried figure in the dugout, and bared his teeth in a savage grin.
"You'd better just surrender."
Though this fellow wore power armor, Midnight Chicken Slaughter felt not the slightest threat from him.
Too weak.
The guy wasn't even an Awakened; hell, he probably hadn't even undergone basic genetic optimization.
Hearing the word "surrender," a rush of blood flooded Baskin's head, an agonizing sense of humiliation tearing through his chest.
Surrender...
Never!
"Die!"
He struggled to climb out of the dugout, drew the heavy assault rifle slung across his armor, glared at the chainsword-wielding maniac, and pulled the trigger with a furious roar.
A hail of lead sprayed toward the man, about to strike the burly frame.
Yet right before the bullets connected, his vision blurred impossibly.
*Too fast!*
That speed defied his understanding of human anatomy; it was so fast he couldn't even register an afterimage.
The screeching chainsword slammed into his shoulder armor in a fraction of an instant, driving all the air from his lungs.
"Ah—!"
Barely letting out a truncated shriek, Baskin felt half of his body fly into the air, before crashing heavily onto the ground.
With the final thread of his fading consciousness, he saw his truncated body still standing motionless where it had been, nothing remaining above the shoulders but a geyser of spurting blood.
The man with the chainsword strode right past him, not sparing a single backward glance at the dying commander on the earth.
"Too weak."
That faintly contemptuous voice cast Baskin's remaining awareness into the bottomless abyss—and utterly shattered the Church of the Torch's final shred of will to resist.
Under the cover of artillery, the Jungle Corps storming the mountain drove straight through the Church of the Torch's defensive line like a red-hot branding iron plunged into a snowdrift.
The positions across Mount Luosong collapsed at a pace visible to the naked eye, blood pooling into miniature rivers through the trenches.
This could no longer be called a battle; it was an outright slaughter.
Whether Torch Apostles or mutants—since they had chosen to resist to the bitter end, the Alliance would deliver equal, merciless death to every last one of them...
***
On the bridge of the *Heart of Steel*, Chu Guang stood before the panoramic observation window, looking down upon the burning battlefield without a ripple of emotion in his chest.
Beside him, Vannus lowered his binoculars and spoke in a steady voice.
"This mountain range should be Torch's final stronghold... It seems before the sun sets today, you will be able to deliver your victory address, sir."
"Mm."
Chu Guang nodded, his thoughts already drifting far beyond the battlefield.
To him, an outcome already carved in stone was hardly worth discussing.
In truth, the Coalition forces had secured total victory several days ago.
This was nothing more than mopping up.
Suddenly recalling something, Chu Guang spoke up.
"Once this war concludes, I intend to visit the islands to the south."
Vannus paused for a brief moment, not quite grasping why the esteemed Administrator would suddenly mention the southern islands at this hour.
Yet there was surely some deeper purpose that eluded him.
Putting the thought aside, Vannus gave a respectful nod and replied deferentially:
"I shall accompany you, sir."
Chapter 800