Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1389: Chapter 1388: Reversal of Offense and Defense

Veronica stepped out of the door, the warm sun of late spring shining on her shoulders. A radiant giant sun hung high in the sky, its coronal and faint wood-grain pattern on the solar disk creating a magnificent scene behind the thin clouds. A gentle breeze blew from afar, sweeping through the bustling streets of Cecil Clan and the flourishing trees lining the roadside, carrying with it the fragrance of greenery and the sound of the bustling traffic.

She gently inhaled, as if to imprint the essence of this prosperous world deeply into her being, holding her breath for a long while before exhaling the stale air. She slightly opened her arms in the sunlight, gently squinted her eyes, and all that this body perceived was instantly transmitted to the main server matrix—then, she reopened her eyes, and the images, sounds, and tactile sensations captured by forty-three thousand six hundred seventy-two comprehensive sensors flooded her thought threads.

The coarse hot wind filled with dust fiercely beat against the sentinel towers of the outer defensive belt, damaged armor plates smoked under the dim sky, welding drones raced between weapon stations and barrier platforms, as high-energy missiles and magic beams from afar sliced through the sky like a net, roaring as they struck the ancient shield above the Old Imperial Capital. The translucent energy barrier rippled in the bombardment, beneath the shimmering waves of the barrier, a surge composed of aberrations and synthetic beasts rolled in from afar. The twisted, mutated limbs and chaotic, frenzied roars transmitted back to the matrix through the sensors scattered across the battlefield, igniting roars between the data processing units.

Deep laboratories closed, exploratory drilling stations shut down, all processing centers and manufacturing centers reordered their schedules, energy and resources from all bunkers and fortresses were supplied to the war units, the Ophelia Matrix shut down all systems that could be shut down, centuries of accumulated energy and resources were fully invested into war factories and frontline facilities, and the Iron Soldier Corps swarmed out.

After seven hundred years of silence, the last legion left by the Gondor Empire once again stepped onto the battlefield, possibly for the last time to defend their homeland—and this time, they were defending more than just the Gondor Imperial Capital.

This was the fourth year of the Cecil Clan, the 50th day of the Revival Month, and the Wasteland War had witnessed its greatest transformation since its beginning—after a series of actions to invade the civilized world were curbed, and the Alliance’s legions counterattacked into the heart of the wasteland with the unstoppable extension of the barrier wall, the dark priests entrenched in the depths of the wasteland abandoned confrontation with the Alliance’s main forces and chose to make a desperate attack on the Well of Deep Blue.

Aberrations, synthetic beasts, twisted root megastructures, priest Clergy... the full force of the Wasteland Legion was integrated in a very short time, transforming into a mountain-crumbling, sea-overturning surge that launched violent attacks on the Well of Deep Blue from all directions. The wasteland’s central area, which had maintained a standoff, instantly fell into flames of war like a tidal wave. The darkness army, like a raging tide, covered the vast land surrounding the ancient Gondor Empire, fierce battles erupted on every inch of scorched earth, and in the midst of the surging dark wave, the brilliance of the Well of Deep Blue once again became the most striking beacon in this land—this scene was reminiscent of seven hundred years ago.

The gigantic change occurring in the Wasteland Central Zone was also immediately transmitted to the entire Alliance, shocking the leaders of Alliance Member States, yet no one truly panicked—since the inception of the barrier wall project, the Alliance’s supreme staff headquarters, primarily composed of Cecil Clan, Typhon, and The Three Great Empires of Silver, had conducted simulations. The senior commanders and military-political heads of the three great empires had long predicted that once the commanding echelon of the Wasteland Legion realized the situation was irreversible and attrition tactics were ineffective, they would view the Well of Deep Blue as the "last choice," the entire Alliance was waiting for this turning point. Therefore, even though this turning point emerged more suddenly than anticipated, the armies of mortals were not unprepared.

On the 53rd day of the Revival Month, following an unprecedented scale of material and personnel mobilization, the Alliance’s full line in the wasteland began to accelerate its advance. Led by the main forces of the three great empires, dozens of Member States brought forth all they could muster—troops, food, civilian workers, steel, everything flowed towards the ancient Gondor lands and transformed into a burning flood at the front lines, as well as the rising purification towers.

Shortly after the Alliance’s full line accelerated, initial unit commanders confirmed signs of the Wasteland Legion’s decline—despite the increasing number of aberrations and synthetic beasts deeper into the wasteland, conversely, these monsters showed rapidly declining command and combat awareness. The formerly disciplined and tactically sound Wasteland Legion became increasingly chaotic; on most fronts, the aberrations merely charged blindly and relied on instinct to attack operational units. In a few areas, there were even uncontrollable "wild" aberrations and wandering, lost synthetic beasts, which not only eased the pressure on frontline units but also confirmed the commanders’ and leaders’ judgments—

Though the Wasteland Legion’s troops were infinite, their commanders were limited. When all redirected their focus to attack the Well of Deep Blue, the "delaying troops" left on the front lines were inevitably a ragtag bunch.

On the Cecil frontline, a blinding white torrent roared through the sky, leaving a trail of slightly distorted, continuously vaporizing trajectory due to intense heat in the atmosphere. At the end of the battlefield, the torrent made contact with the earth, directly melting rocks and evaporating the land with high-purity, high-intensity Ao energy, leaving a series of dark red lava scars on the ground, and those monsters racing across the ground were all reduced to smoke under the white light, not leaving a trace of residue.

The heavy armor train "General Winter" issued a deep rumble at both ends of its armory section, opening ventilation ports beneath the armor plates. Alchemical coolant absorbed a large amount of heat in the heat exchange grids of the Rainbow Light Generator and burst forth as billowing white mist from both sides of this war machine. Inside the armory section, the technical sergeants immediately refilled new coolant tanks into the slots, while the empty tanks rolled out from a rail at the back of the train carriage and fell into a recycling box to be prepared for refilling.

The adoption of disposable, detachable coolant tanks significantly enhanced the firing rate and stability of the Rainbow Cannon carried by the armored train—a new technology (or rather, a new idea) compared to the traditional cooling system relying on a massive water pump and piping network. The new alchemical coolant tanks increased the firing rate of the Rainbow Cannon by nearly double, and the entire system occupied less than one-third the space of the old pump assembly—extra space even allowed for installing two close-defense weapon stations and corresponding ammunition stores.

Sir Philip stood in the tactical compartment of the General Winter train, watching the scenes on the battlefield through different monitoring screens. He saw the remaining aberrations and bio-synthetic beasts reinitiating their offensive on the plains—if their swarm-like rush could be considered an "offensive"—the ferocious barrage of Rainbow Cannon and train artillery didn’t instill fear in these dim-witted creatures. Lacking command, they couldn’t manage to find cover, scatter their formations, or perform wave charges and other complex maneuvers. All they could do now was swarm continuously and then face the baptism of artillery fire.

Nonetheless, the sheer numbers and their reckless attitude still played some role—in the reducing numbers, there were still many monsters reaching a fairly close distance. At this distance, the Rainbow Light Generator and train artillery of the armored train couldn’t fire smoothly, unable to target goals within the nearest shooting range.

Thus, it was time for the light infantry guns, grenade launchers, close-defense artillery on the train, and the purification weapons held by the White Knights and Armed Nuns to take effect.

Under the dim sky, a tide of flesh and blood composed of wasteland monsters surged towards the defensive lines built by mortals. The close defense artillery and light rail accelerators began roaring, dense fire lines like rain poured into the tide, and after a short delay, unleashed a series of continuous shockwaves and explosions. Following this, White Knights clad in heavy armor dashed out—their robust armor, unwavering will, and excellent barriers (plus reasonably effective Holy Light) were sufficient to withstand the weak energy beams and practically useless Magical Missile projected by spell-casting units within the aberrations. Their Holy Light Impact Cannon could purify everything impure within a range of two to three hundred meters in a short time.

Following them, Armed Nuns also launched attacks within the lines. They wore enhanced barriers, enthusiasm for the Empire, and Holy Light for ambiance as armor, and their preaching staves were universally equipped with the "Gift of Fury" burner system, specially designed for female priests. These burners were much lighter than the heavy burners used by the White Knights, with relatively shorter range, but fitted with a conduit for delivering specialized burning agents. This conduit connected to the "sacred tank" on the nuns’ backs, filled with high-efficiency alchemical potions that enabled the flames to burn incessantly on the profane heterodox monsters until all their sins were purified into oblivion—

Of course, some monsters in the wasteland are particularly resistant to burning, and their sins cannot be purified all at once, but that’s not a problem. The nuns have already set up heavy burning towers in the positions, and the plasma jets they emit (the powerful Spell Flaming Demon Whip) can even burn through the outer walls of reinforced concrete bunkers.

As stated in the Empire’s standard military manual - White Knights and Armed Nuns are excellent medical units, not only are their means of treating and saving lives universally praised, their methods of healing this land are equally superb.

The faint echo of artillery fire inside the armored train gradually diminished. After the enemy was completely defeated, the close-in weapon system of General Winter was the first to stop roaring, followed by the gradual silence of infantry cannons at several nearby firing points. Sir Philip withdrew his gaze from the monitor screen, turned to the other side of the carriage, and opened the armored covering outside the window to directly observe the situation on the battlefield.

The main force of the wasteland entrenched in this area has been eliminated. Now, only a few struggling individuals remain, crawling through the sea of fire and craters. Driven by instinct, they continue to move towards anything alive. The warriors need not go to the battlefield to clear them; they will crawl to the front of the fire net to be slaughtered—without command, the Wasteland Legion is ultimately just a group of monsters inferior to wild beasts.

Some writhing shadows stretched out from the edge of the window, resembling dark brown vines or tentacles. They roamed freely on the battlefield turned scorched earth, rummaging among the corpses, picking and choosing. Sir Philip saw a biochem beast, just climbing out of a crater when it was grabbed by one of the tentacles. The ugly monster struggled valiantly in the air, roaring loudly, before being placed on a pile of firewood to roast. Only when it was thoroughly cooked did it quiet down, and then the tentacle carried its prize swiftly back into a nearby crevice.

The sound of chewing came from deep within the ground.

But most tentacles returned empty-handed—the battlefield was either filled with thoroughly burned and carbonized remnants or the blasted into pieces "goo" of shrapnel that couldn’t be pieced back together, or it was the aberration bones already turning to dust. If this was Beltira who had just emerged from the edge of the Black Forest, starving, she might have accepted such things, but now she is not so desperately in need of biomass, so naturally, she looks down on such "inferior food."

The tentacles that found nothing gave up foraging on the battlefield and chose to burrow back into the earth.

The nearby Magic Web Terminal suddenly lit up. Philip turned his head and saw a figure in a green priest’s skirt appear in the projection, with a backdrop of vast, pure white flower fields behind this figure.

"Madam Beltira," the young Imperial Army Marshal nodded to this distinguished lady of considerable merit, "We have cleared this area. You can extend the subsequent limbs here to establish positions."

"I’ll break through the surface once it cools—the spores are already on standby in the soil near you," Beltira nodded, but then frowned again, muttering with some resentment, "Recently, there’s less and less edible stuff on the battlefield... Aren’t you guys overdoing it? Especially today, they were blown apart too thoroughly."

"This..." Philip hadn’t expected the other party to actually complain about this, and he was momentarily a bit awkward, "It’s actually because after losing command, the enemy had no tactics, and those monsters charged blindly into the firepower blockade. Most of them wouldn’t even reach close combat before being turned into dust by tank cannons and Rainbow Light jets, so preserving relatively intact remains in such circumstances is indeed challenging..."

"Ah, it’s actually fine, I’m just saying," Beltira noticed that this serious young man was genuinely concerned and couldn’t help but wave her hand, "This is a war, I’m not here for a picnic."

"Thank you for your understanding," Philip immediately said earnestly, but couldn’t help asking, "Now that it’s increasingly difficult for you to collect biomass from battlefield remains, is growth supply encountering any problems? Do we need to add some extra transport pipelines and biomass splitting pools? Currently, the railway lines are open, and regarding material transport..."

"No need, biomass supply is going smoothly," Beltira interrupted Philip, "The purification devices in the rear are functioning, and now the cloud cover above the wasteland has become much more normal than before. I can absorb part of the nutrients through regular photosynthesis, and I’ve also found a new nutrient source underground."

"Underground nutrient source?" Philip was a bit curious, "You mean..."

"I successfully severed the root network of the Oblivion Association in the entire northern area—or rather, my inept compatriots voluntarily abandoned those things they can no longer control," Beltira’s tone carried a hint of delight, "Now I’m gnawing at tree roots."

Philip: "...uh, as long as you’re satisfied..."