Chapter 1023: Chapter 1022: God of War

From an aerial view, the Winterhold Fortress Group and the narrow plains west of it have already transformed into a boiling sea of light—

Hundreds of thousands of Transcendents are camped in hundreds of large and small camps, forming an unimaginably gigantic magic power network. The surging magic power flows across the vast land, continuously converging at dozens of vantage points around the Winterhold Fortress Group. Beams of light connecting the heavens and the earth rise from the mountain peaks, and with every flash, powerful orbs of light descend from the sky;

The Cecil Clan’s armored torrent is advancing toward the eastern battle line. Several armored trains move along the tracks, the tank groups and various light and medium war vehicles crush the dry winter ground. Amidst billowing smoke and dust, the giant cannons rumble, and dense flashes ripple through the front of this "iron tide" like surging waves, as shells and energy beams weave a fiery net, spilling over the distant plains;

Titans as tall as small mountains traverse the land, advancing relentlessly under the overwhelming ancient Forbidden Curse and contemporary artillery fire. Even in a weakened state, the Divine Form of the God seems overwhelmingly strong and resilient when facing the wrathful attacks from mortals—the combined national power from both Empires though successfully causing continuous damage, did not evidently slow the Titan’s pace whatsoever. It marches forward like an indomitable knight, continually destroying any defense in its path or obliterating all enemies daring to attack it with a longbow;

Inside the War Citizen Armored Train, the roar of the cannons penetrated through the barrier into the carriage, echoing with a deep, rolling thunder throughout the tactical car segment. Maryland arrived at an observation window on the side of the carriage, gazing far into the direction of the Winterhold Fortress Group.

Built between mountains, the entire core of the Winterhold defense line rises gradually from the edge of the plains. Amidst the slopes and hills above ground, brilliant streams of light are flowing over the land. Even though there are many extinguished "black domains" within, this "sea of light" formed by mortal power is still breathtakingly magnificent.

"It’s truly impressive..." the seasoned general couldn’t help but softly exclaim.

That’s the essence Typhon has accumulated over hundreds of years, a miracle "piled" up by a large-scale Empire Corps. The vast network of magic veins across the hills and fields should be the proud creation of Typhon’s Royal Mage Association, costly and requiring a number of Transcendents that no other nation on the continent, other than Typhon and the Silver Empire, could afford. Its efficiency and stability are not equal to an equivalent-scale Magic Web; at least using a similar Magic Web to drive the Annihilation Seed wouldn’t present such frequent overload extinguishments. Perhaps it can only last for a limited time since mortal power ultimately has limits, but even so, Maryland must salute this miracle—and he believes his King would think the same.

This was the last pinnacle of the old era’s extraordinary order...

A cry from the communications soldier suddenly interrupted Maryland’s thoughts: "The tracks have reached the end, the connecting segment ahead has been blown up!"

Maryland raised his head. He saw the plains were nearing their end, with the outermost buildings of the Winterhold Fortress Group standing in the distance—the Cecil Legion had already crossed the contested area that both sides would repeatedly seize, and the railway available for armored train movement was also reaching its end.

And that mountain-like Titan still strode forward with steady, resolute steps. Its ultimate goal was that castle perched on the mountain’s peak with pure white snowy fortifications, as if something critically important there possessed an absolute allure to it.

Suddenly, the Titan once again raised its arm, a giant bow quickly formed in its hand. It surveyed the battlefield around it, and then abruptly reversed its grip to unleash an arrow—the enormous arrow pierced the air, and nearly in an instant, landed amid the Cecil Legion’s steel tide. The nearby tanks and Multi-Functional War Vehicles immediately took evasive action, but when the explosion occurred, more than ten vehicles still vanished in the terrifying energy impact.

Afterwards, the Titan turned back again, continuing to advance toward the distant Winterhold.

Maryland’s pupils momentarily constricted—

This was the War God aspired by mortals, the image of a god drawn by human imagination since ancient times—not adorned with much fancy decoration, not equipped with much bizarre abilities, providing a brutal force sweeping across the battlefield, and a stubborn body facing all direct attacks—in armor, braving enemy formations and annihilating all threats. This was the "classic depiction" of all heroic figures on battlefields throughout human history.

The Titan perfectly embodies all such traits.

Beside the War Citizen, the Iron Scepter Armored Train tasked with escort duties was already missing one. On another track in the distance, the latter half of the Zero Armored Train suffered severe damage, with its remaining carriages venting thick smoke, the cost incurred in the recent pursuit of the god.

Maryland took a gentle breath, swiftly issuing commands to the nearby communications soldier: "Slow down the armored train and park. Continue attacking the target with all available weapons until the target leaves the range; other ground troops keep advancing and maintain the firepower output; advance the First, Second, and Fourth Artillery Battalions forward, establish new positions on Seventy-Six Highland, continue the attack..."

...

Above the Iron Throne, an eerie starry sky and night continued to shroud the land, and clusters of shadows swept across the high-altitude clouds, accelerating towards the distant Titan cloaked in iron-gray armor—a swarm of silver-gray painted Dragon Rider Aircraft among them, as well as dragon herds with Wings of Steel gliding through the clouds.

Cold winds of high altitude swiftly cut past wings like frigid blades, slicing through the protective magic barriers. The Black Dragon Sujina felt the surging airflow in the air, squinting slightly as she looked into the distance.

The Titan that could make dragons tremble was already clearly visible.

"Maji... You didn’t mention having to battle these things when you wrote urging me to come to Cecil ’to experience flying’..."

The Black Dragon Commander softly grumbled, yet the corners of her mouth slightly lifted, revealing an unflinching smile. She spread her wings as if to embrace the sky, the magic symbols on the edges of her steel wing boards glittering in the night sky, and the dragon herd members beside her made similar gestures. The entire airborne unit accelerated once more, trailing hazy illusions under the starlit sky.

Typhon fights here with life at stake, because it involves their survival and honor. The Cecil Clan die-hard assault here, because it also concerns their life and death and national ideology. And Dragonborn... they may originally be outsiders as mercenaries, but at this moment they’re equally fearless like those human beings—a situation perhaps difficult for outsiders to comprehend.

Yet the Dragonborn regard it as only right—they were, after all, paid, and solemnly pledged when accepting the payment.

Dragonborn may be incomplete dragons, but incomplete dragons too possess dignity and creed: payment entails duty; having pledged must mean completion of the task.

Besides... flying through the sky truly feels amazing.

...

Intense fire blazes over the land, the originally frigid northwest border transformed into a raging kiln on this day. Across a thoroughly destroyed Typhon Camp, uncontrolled surging magic continued to lick the land and the devastated camp’s barracks.

A Communication Crystal fallen to the ground was half-buried under scorching soil. Without a supporting Mage Controller, the crystal’s glow was fading rapidly, yet a weak, vague voice persisted from deep within the crystal: "...Calling Camp Forty-Four, Winterhold Mage Tower calling Camp Forty-Four... report your... unstable magic flow, we need... respond..."

The corpses buried in the dirt had no response for the crystal’s voice, and within the entire camp, only the crackle of flames burning down the barracks accompanied the low hum of erratic magic skimming past at low altitude. Suddenly, a pile of loose dirt next to the crystal was pushed aside by a blood-soaked hand. A nearly unrecognizable combat Mage struggled to crawl out from the collapsed fortification, wriggling in the soil.

He stretched a hand toward the dimming Communication Crystal, and with a replenishment of magic power, the crystal slightly brightened once more.

"This is... Camp Forty-Four..."

"Report your situation, Obliteration Camp Ten needs more Magic Power..."

"There’s no more Magic Power... Camp Forty-Four was directly hit and has been destroyed. Nearby camps that I can see are also... All of our people are dead."

The voice on the other side of the crystal was silent for two seconds before it sounded again: "Received, we will redirect the Magic Power flow to the remaining camps, you can... retreat."

"...Received."

The crystal flickered a few times, its severely damaged internal magic symbols began to heat up, causing the surface to quickly fill with cracks. Before it completely shattered, one last faint voice was transmitted: "Thank you for your fight, soldier..."

The crystal split with a crisp sound, and the combat Mage casually tossed aside the remnants of the now useless crystal. He used his last bit of strength to turn himself over; his remaining upper body leaned against a piece of ruins that no longer resembled its original form like a tattered sack.

"You’re welcome..."

He looked up at the sky, his rapidly dimming eyes reflected the night sky and brilliant starlight. In the backdrop of the sky, the Cecil Clan’s battle machines and fully armed Dragon Herd were flying toward the direction of the Winterhold Fortress Group.

And behind Camp Forty-Four, across the wilderness leading to the fortress group, hollow iron giants continued to march forward, flames streaming wherever they passed.

...

"Camp Forty-Four is gone, the last interception barrier we set up in front of the fortress group was destroyed three minutes ago," a high-ranked Battle Mage said heavily to Palin Winterhold, "Thus, our frontline defense power is less than thirty percent. We have only the walls, barriers, and mage towers of the fortress group left."

"Their sacrifice has bought us valuable time and Magic Power, the Annihilation Seed can be fired once more, bringing us closer to the final victory," Count Winterhold said solemnly as he glanced at the magical illusion not far away—the Eye of the Mage, set high in the sky, gazed from afar at the Winterhold line. In the mountains where the fortress group was located, more than half of those beams connecting heaven and earth had extinguished, and the magical network flowing on the ground had become riddled with scars, filled with sights shocking to behold.

The transcendent nodes set up near the defense line for maintaining Magic Power supply suffered heavy losses, and many of the camps inside the fortress group had also been extinguished... Therefore, even though the entire defense line was on the verge of collapse, this vast magical network had not completely shattered.

This might be the only "good" thing that has happened since the outbreak of battle here...

Palin Winterhold shook his head, took a deep breath, and tightly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was only unwavering determination remaining in his gaze.

...

In the Hall of Mysteries, the illusory, hazy starlight had completely infiltrated the original walls, floor, and ceiling. The entire hall seemed like a glass room placed among the stars of the universe. An eerie eye, outlined by disordered lines, floated in the center of this "Star Sea," watching the image projected by the magical projection not far away with its hollow "pupil."

In that magical projection, the battlefield scenes caught by the surviving Eyes of the Mage continually flashed by, as well as the image of the iron giants striding forward, or the Cecil Legion advancing from both the sky and the ground.

"...Truly breathtaking... I never imagined that during my slumber, you would develop this far... I thought after the Inversion Tide was destroyed by the Dragonkin, I would never again see mortals so brave, yet here you ’remnants’ rising from the ruins could achieve this. Unbelievable, truly unbelievable... you mortals are far more resilient than I imagined."

"Mortals are easily knocked down but always manage to get back up. Our history has continued in this way," said Emperor Rosetta Augustus standing in the "starry sky" façade with a calm tone. Then he glanced at the iron giant in the magical projection and subtly shifted the topic, "Now, we can cause enough damage to Her."

"Enough? Is it enough? Perhaps it’s enough... That really is a subtle question," the chaotic eerie hollow eye said leisurely, "I cannot quantify specifically how much damage a divine being sustains under mortal attacks... But compared to when you fought alone at first, your chances of success now are indeed much higher."

"Then, you must keep your promise."

"Certainly, I will keep it... But only if you are truly able to deliver a fatal blow to Her at that time—this requires weakening Her as much as possible. You must know that my power is very limited now, tackling a complete deity in this state is quite a challenge."

Rosetta quietly observed the hollow eye floating not far beside him, and after a long time, spoke in a low, slow voice: "We will achieve it."

...

When the human world surged with great waves, distant eyes also watched this battlefield of mortals and gods.

On the terrace of the top of the towering Central Temple, which overlooked all of Talronde, a figure with golden hair trailing to the ground stood silently in the faint glow of the setting sun, gazing towards the Loren Continent.

Heragor stood respectfully to the side and said quietly, "My lord, you’ve been watching for a long time."

The golden-haired figure was silent for a second before softly saying, "For me, this is just a moment."

Heragor said no more, he simply gazed in the same direction as the deity did for a moment, but soon withdrew his sight.

He knew what was happening in that direction, and what was occurring there reminded him of distant years past.

But he was aware that he should not recall those things, especially in this place.

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