Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 1008: Chapter 1007: Making the Move

The roaring sounds of the Rainbow Light Main Cannon and Magic-guided Artillery finally began to subside, and the trembling caused by the power spine operating at high load also quickly calmed down as the load decreased. Inside the armor-covered carriages of the Iron Throne - Mundane Python, the sounds of normal mechanical operation and the vehicle crushing the tracks replaced the previous sound of cannon fire.

Maryland left the command seat and walked to the window on one side of the carriage, gazing out through the reinforced crystal glass at the distant plains. Smoke and flames still rose on the horizon, and the scorched earth from the Rainbow Light beam glowed slightly red at the edge of sight.

A moment later, the rumbling noise of another train running approached from behind. The Iron Scepter, which had slowed down to create a firing window, slowly accelerated and gradually caught up with the Mundane Python ahead. Before the two trains converged, rhythmic lights flashed on each train body, signaling each other’s safety.

"Aerial reconnaissance has not detected any large-scale enemy activity, onboard sensors have detected no abnormal magic fluctuations," a technical soldier loudly reported behind the communication station, "The escort train requests permission to accelerate and confirm the conditions of the road ahead."

"Permission granted," Maryland nodded, "Remind the lads and gals on that train to keep their eyes wide open, and watch out for those Typhon people sabotaging the railway — they’ve learned to place Arcane Neutralizers and large bombs with passive triggers alongside the tracks."

"Yes, General!"

Maryland nodded, his vision returning to the eastern window. In the sky obliquely above, he saw two small black dots fleeting between the clouds, with faint magical glows trailing behind the dots.

They were the airborne squadron escorting the Mundane Python — the Dragon Cavalry Scout Squadron. This aerial force provided protection for the frontline railway, and was also responsible for reconnaissance of enemy movements outside Winterwolf and carrying out bombing tasks against certain Typhon strongholds. When the Iron Throne executed a sortie, the main responsibility of the aerial units was to protect the armored trains from the Typhon air raids.

This was in response to a recent Typhon airborne squadron’s attack on armored trains, which nearly caused colossal damage.

In Maryland’s view, the Typhon air force was not strong. The outdated combat gryphons and flying mages, though numerous, lagged a whole tier behind the Dragon Cavalry Fighters in combat capability. The truly tricky challenge should be the Typhon anti-air capabilities closer to Winterwolf — the formidable Typhon Empire has built a vast number of mage towers in the border regions. During the era of new warfare, those towers were powerless against cluster-pushing vehicles and the far-reaching giant cannon, but their long-range lightning and beam arrays posed a great threat to the relatively fragile Dragon Cavalry Troops that have been established for a shorter time.

During one reckless bombing operation, several Dragon Cavalry fighters were shot down by those sky-covering lightning and lasers.

This forced Maryland, who has maintained an upper hand since the war started, to seriously evaluate Typhon’s war capabilities several times, and he summarized some experiences — air superiority can indeed determine the direction of a war, but one cannot underestimate the threat on-ground anti-air firepower poses to aerial units. In actual combat, outdated weapons can still pose a significant threat, especially when the enemy knows to learn and adapt.

The communicator nearby rang.

Maryland walked to the communicator, and upon activating it, the projection crystal displayed the image of a Dragon Cavalry warrior, situated in a cockpit, with the faint sight of clouds and the dragon wing drive extending outwards in the background.

"Area is safe, sir," the Dragon Cavalry warrior in the communicator reported the reconnaissance status, "Additionally, cloud gathering observed, it seems another snowfall is imminent."

Maryland instinctively glanced outside the window; from his position, he could only see a limited extent of the sky. In the direction of Typhon’s control area, he could indeed see a mass of iron-gray clouds gathering — dragons in the sky evidently have a clearer view of such details. He retracted his gaze, nodding at the warrior in the communicator, "Inclement weather might affect the flight; take care."

...

Machines made of steel and crystal soared through the sky; the whistling cold wind rushed backward along the tangential edges of the barrier and dragon wing drive. Fine water vapor and dust in the airflow were disturbed by the field released by the Anti-Gravity Ring, forming a wondrous "ring" around the aircraft. With the layered protection of the barrier, steel, and crystal, the pilot inside the cockpit had just finished communication.

"This winter, snowfall in the north sure has been frequent," he said to the mechanic and bomber behind him, "It’s just been a few days since it cleared up."

"That reminds me of when riding a gryphon," the companion in the rear control seat responded, "Back then, gryphon knights who managed to take off and return in the snowstorm were recognized as brave warriors — courageous and skilled in facing the snowstorm, along with the patience and experience to soothe the gryphon once returned."

"Indeed, my father used to possess such skill — he was the most outstanding Gryphon Knight in the Solandor region back in the day. Once during a blizzard, he managed to ride a gryphon to deliver the leader’s message to an outside manor and received a commendation upon returning. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to master his superb flying techniques before the era of gryphon was over..."

"Ah, your father was a remarkable Gryphon Knight... But I’m more curious about what important message it was that necessitated risking a blizzard to deliver it..."

"Ha, it was a damned love letter, written by the leader to his mistress — my father nearly got furious knowing what he was delivering, yet had to obey orders. However, after seeing the mistress’s husband at the manor, his mood lightened up..."

The companion sitting in the back paused briefly, then realized, and couldn’t help but laugh loudly, bringing a cheerful atmosphere inside the steel-built flying machine.

The pilot couldn’t help but smile too, while keeping an eye on the dashboard data and the view outside the cockpit. He saw that the mass of iron-gray cloud in the distance had become thicker, drawing closer, rolling on the surface, as if brewing a storm inside, prompting him to tighten his grip on the control stick and furrow his brows, saying, "Damned... Looks like the cloud is heading our way..."

"Can the gathering and moving speed of clouds be that fast?" The mechanic seemed puzzled, "The anemometer indicates the wind speed outside isn’t that high..."

"Weather is unpredictable; let’s stay cautious always," the pilot grumbled, his gaze involuntarily drawn to the rolling clouds, momentarily seeing an illusion of moving troops within — only for it to disappear upon closer scrutiny, "...Did you see that? I feel these clouds are a bit strange..."

"I didn’t see anything, huh?" The mechanic puzzled, looking out through the side observation window, "Was the cloud reflection dazzling your eyes?"

The pilot frowned deeply, having experienced the catastrophe on the Plains of the Holy Spirits, he quickly made a decision: "... Anyway, let’s report it. This war is bizarre; anything seen can’t be dismissed as illusions—perhaps the experts in the rear can analyze something."

The mechanic strongly agreed with this, and the pilot once again activated the communication device at one corner of the control seat. Meanwhile, as their attention was drawn to the clouds outside the cockpit, in a corner unnoticed by them, several magic symbols lit up spontaneously in the cockpit’s Mind Protection System—though the light was very faint, almost undetectable to the naked eye, it pulsed gently like a breath.

...

Clement Darte stood on a high hill overlooking the fields not far away, still filled with dense smoke and flames, observing the chaotic debris and banners scattered amidst the black soil and white snow, remaining silent for a long time.

After a few minutes, a gust of wind howled over, stirring the loose snow grains on the hilltop, only then did the Typhon aristocrat speak in a deep voice to the mage attendant beside him: "Is that the destruction caused by the Cecil Clan’s weapons?"

"Yes, my lord," the mage attendant replied with a lowered head, "The reports say the Cecil Clan calls it ’Rainbow Light,’ a high-purity, high-intensity arcane focus ray that can last a long time, with astonishing power and an extremely far range. Around this time last year, this technology was still immature, limited by cooling issues, so the Cecil Clan could only install it on fixed positions or ships. But this year, they have mounted it on their moving fortresses..."

"Moving fortresses..." Count Clement squinted his eyes, and overhead, an Eye of the Mage was facing in the direction of the Winterwolf Fort Defense Line. In the cold and aloof "pupil" of the Eye of the Mage, the railway and bunkers on the distant horizon, along with the armored train moving southward, were reflected. "I can see, it surely is an incredible creation."

"Yeah, incredible... That incredible thing has already caused us several major casualties, even outright destroyed several of our fortresses—moving swiftly, fearsome strength, and powerful defense, always surrounded by a plethora of other war machines for protection. It’s an armed-to-the-teeth steel fortress that speeds on wheels, and we are powerless against it," the mage attendant sighed, "Count Palin Winterhold once organized an air raid; we almost succeeded, yet failed due to insufficient preparation. Afterward, the Cecil Clan quickly learned from this, beginning to use those flying machines in the air to guard against our air raids."

Clement operated the Eye of the Mage, searching carefully through the distant skies, eventually locking onto those small black dots flying and weaving through the clouds.

"No matter... We’re here to solve this problem," he said in a deep voice, simultaneously lifting his head to directly gaze at the northwest sky—in his sight, a vast cloud formation was quickly taking shape and moving in the direction of the Winterwolf Fort Defense Line, "Is it a miraculous war... Go ask those priests, when will the miracle they speak of fully form?"

"I just asked, the priest presiding over the ceremony said everything is going smoothly, the divine responded very positively to this prayer—they suggested you head out in twenty minutes."

Clement nodded slightly: "Very good—notify the Mage Corps and Gryphon Knights to prepare in ten minutes."

...

Near the hill where Clement was, the grand sacred ceremony was reaching its conclusion in a large gathering ground.

A War God Priest, wearing priest robes, stood in the circular hall of the gathering ground, leading nearly a hundred clergy members in the final Chapter of prayers. The deep and solemn blessing voices resonated in the hall, even drowning out the howling wind outside. And in the center of the hall, on a platform slightly higher than the surrounding ground, a gigantic fire pan burned fiercely, in the constantly dancing flames, a layer of iron-gray sheen gradually emerged.

The War God Priest walked one final circle around the flames and stopped at a precisely calculated position and time. He turned to face the flames, turning his back to the clergy members bowing their heads in prayer, his face involuntarily showing joy and fervor.

He could feel that his lord had already cast a concerned gaze upon this world.

This is a turbulent period, a dark and oppressive time. The situation seems dire to an extreme degree. In Aldernon and most of the Empire’s heartland, public War God gatherings and prayer activities have been rudely prohibited. Believers and priests attempt resistance, but they cannot face the Augustus Clan, firmly in control of military power. This has left many priests disheartened, some even receiving punishment for harboring thoughts of forsaking the deities.

But here, the priest felt hope again.

That tyrannical emperor ultimately lacked the courage to utterly forsake the gods. He still knew who had sheltered Typhon for hundreds of years. Here, at this place closest to the warfront, priests can still pray, carry out such large-scale sacred ceremonies, and communicate with the deities... Is there anything more comforting and uplifting than this?

The northern frontline is cold and harsh, certainly not as comfortable as the warm chapels in the rear, but for devoted priests, any place that narrows the distance to the divine is the most comfortable place.

This battlefield is the nearest place to the divine, each devout War God’s priest here can feel it: as the war persists, as order is re-established, they grow increasingly clear on the divine’s presence at the Winterwolf Fort-Winterhold frontline. Undoubtedly, this entire region has already become a sacred place—just as the scriptures mention a "Saint Domain," this battlefield, closest to divine truth, has become the location nearest to the kingdom in the real world.

The face of the War God Priest beamed with a smile, as he gazed at the fire pan in front of him, the six eyes on his face and three mouths brimmed with mirth, and in those fiercely burning flames, he saw his revered Pope—Malm Dunite standing there, smiling gently and lovingly at the devout praying priests in the gathering ground.

The surrounding prayers finally reached the last segment, the invisible bridge had been established, the bond between the divine world and the mortal world in this gathering ground was unprecedentedly strong.

Without hesitation, the priest took out an iron dagger, sliced a deep wound on his palm, before the wound could wriggle and heal, he sprinkled the fresh blood into the fire pan.

The fiercely burning flames abruptly surged, the iron-gray sheen rapidly spread in the flames, and the next moment, the entire fire pan’s flames were dyed with this steel color, an immense and dignified presence descended upon the gathering ground.

"O Lord! Please bestow your miracle!"