Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 981: Chapter 980: Night at Winterwolf Fortress

Spider silk?

Malm Dunite’s face showed a brief expression of confusion, which in the next second turned into terror.

The spider silk instantly merged into his spiritual body, then seemed to grow and spread from within him. Endless spider silk emerged from his skin and began to wrap around his entire body. The former Pope, now a spiritual entity, let out a furious and shocked roar, immediately trying to summon the power of the gods to help him break free. However, his desperate efforts received no response—some force had severed his connection with the gods!

This was the fact that terrified Malm Dunite the most, even more than the strange magic symbols Philip had displayed and the eerie spider silk that had appeared now—how could anything block his connection with the gods? How could anything halt the force of the supreme War God?! At this very moment, his connection with the gods was unprecedentedly stable, how could it be so easily cut off?!

In rage and shock, he shouted in a hoarse and chaotic voice: "What did you do?! My connection with the Lord is the closest there could be, how could..."

His roar was abruptly cut off midway, as the spider silk that invaded his spiritual body had completely taken over his ability to move, while a white-haired girl’s figure gradually appeared in his freezing vision.

The white-haired girl approached Malm Dunite, her face very serious: "Because you are now closer to me."

Unfortunately, Malm Dunite could no longer hear this answer.

Only at this moment did Philip finally let out a sigh of relief, calming his pounding heart, heaving a long breath and then looking at the soldiers and clerical staff around who were nervously watching the situation and ready to assist at any moment—everyone had taken out the Mind Protection Devices they carried with them, and the nearest senior staff officer already had a hand on the alarm button. Seeing everyone’s reaction, the young Imperial General nodded reassuringly: "Crisis averted, everyone return to your posts."

Then he looked at Nariteer, who stood aside, and at Malm Dunite, who was sealed into a strange "cocoon" by layers of spider silk, and couldn’t help but say: "Is this the ’envoy’ sent by the gods when they are on the brink of madness to spread corruption? I never thought it would be so easy to capture..."

Nariteer immediately shook her head: "Because it is just an incarnation, so it is easy."

"Just an incarnation?" Philip stared wide-eyed.

"Yes," Nariteer nodded, "The soul is hollow, the personality and thoughts are fake, most of its actions should be remotely controlled by some hidden main body... or it requires many such incarnations to coalesce into a main body. In any case, the connection between this incarnation and the ’main body’ has been severed now, and I can’t track it—that’s beyond my web, the spider silk cannot spread too far from the neural network."

Philip couldn’t hide the disappointment in his expression, and couldn’t help but ask: "... Does this empty shell incarnation have any use for us?"

"It still has some use," Nariteer thought for a moment, then seriously answered, "After we return, I’ll have Duvalt and Bishop Megal help dissect it, maybe there’s some residual memory inside."

"Then it’s a tough task for you."

Philip nodded as he spoke, then his gaze inevitably returned to Malm Dunite. When his eyes swept over the distinct and familiar holy symbols on the other’s clothes, his expression turned somewhat complex. The young Imperial General opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but ultimately, all words transformed into a silent sigh.

He once believed in the War God, and even at this moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d truly forsaken that faith.

Early on, when he first learned of Typhon’s threat of divine disaster, Philip went through a period of difficult contemplation. He even stepped into the church of the Holy Light to discuss matters of faith with priests who had found new doctrines, which had some effect, and thereafter he carefully studied many arguments by His Majesty Gawain Cecil on social order and religious beliefs, which also had an impact.

At the very least, his mind became firm again afterward, preventing any confusion over his words and actions.

Yet at this moment, seeing the War God’s symbol again, seeing a high-ranking clergyman from Typhon who had become a mad god’s spokesperson, he couldn’t help but sigh, and couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss and emptiness in his heart.

He suddenly remembered something Emperor Gawain Cecil had once casually mentioned to him in conversation... Perhaps, it is the inevitable "growing pains" many in this world must face at least once.

Nariteer circled Malm Dunite’s incarnation twice, casually pulling more spider silk from the air as if carefully wrapping that unresponsive spiritual body more tightly. Then she lifted the web at his waist, a sturdy adult much larger than her seemed weightless in her hand. After finishing all this, she looked up at Philip and casually said: "You should be careful, after all, you once received baptism and held a very devout belief—in the human Defiers’ research, in such cases, the ’connection’ is already established, and even if you aren’t as devout in your consciousness anymore, this connection apparently doesn’t easily disappear."

Before she finished speaking, she had already stepped forward, this "God of Yore" seemed to cross an invisible barrier, her figure and carried "cargo" disappearing from everyone’s sight.

Philip didn’t get a chance to thank Nariteer, which slightly troubled the young General who always valued etiquette, but he had no time to dwell on personal feelings.

"General," an adjutant approached after noticing the matter resolved, his face still carried a trace of tension and apprehension, it seemed the sudden incident had left a deep impression on him, "was that just now the ’envoy’ spreading corruption? It looks like Typhon’s divine disaster has completely spiraled out of control..."

Divine disaster, to most countries around the world, was either an unheard-of concept or confidential intelligence restricted to high-level circulation, or even taboo matters prohibited from circulation. However, for the Cecil Clan who had encountered divine disasters twice already, it was quite familiar—the concept of divine disasters was written in Cecil textbooks, newspapers, broadcasts, and in all front-line military operation manuals.

Everyone here knew what they might face, and they wouldn’t shy away from discussing it.

"Before, we could still have doubts..." Philip said solemnly, "but now we can basically affirm that the uncontrolled War God’s corruption has infiltrated Typhon’s military system, the divine disaster has already erupted in Typhon, and from now on, we are up against the uncontrolled War God."

Philip seemed to have used all his strength to finish this statement, then slowly raised his head, not looking at his adjutant, but over the adjutant’s shoulder, past the busy hall, and the sturdy walls of Winterhold Castle—that was the direction of Winter Wolf Fortress.

...

Two hours ago, the sun had set, and the thick night was covering the entire wasteland.

However, the night that ought to be silent was torn by constant artillery fire, magic crystal shells exploding, and the flashing of Scorching Rays repeatedly lit up the cold night, and amidst terrifying whistles, explosions, and roars, Winter Wolf Fortress seemed besieged by countless ferocious beasts hidden in the night, trembling violently under continuous artillery bombardment.

But this "trembling" was just an illusion, Andresha knew Winter Wolf Fortress well, she knew that this fortress remained robust, all shield nodes still had plenty of safety margin, the enchanted walls had yet to suffer any substantial damage, and the mages and soldiers operating the wall ballista still had the capacity for rotational rest, the defenders’ strength remained abundant.

This was presently the most comforting stalemate, and much of the credit for this situation should go to the timely arrival of the Black Flag Mage Corps.

In the sky above the southwestern wall, a large swath of hazy magical glows accompanied by layer upon layer of floating magic symbols rose high up. With strong group resonance effects, a legion-level spell once again formed, and in the next second, a lightning storm instantly descended from the sky kilometers away from the wall, its massive lightning bolts sweeping the battlefield. In the bright flashes of lightning, Andreasha’s transcendent vision worked at full capacity, and she vaguely saw that the Cecil Clan’s artillery positions were at the edge of the lightning storm’s range.

It seemed they had retreated a bit further again—which would further weaken their own long-range artillery’s power.

Not every "Skyfire" can strike targets over several kilometers or even tens of kilometers away. The magical devices of the Cecil Clan also have various range limits. Once the distance is extended, a considerable portion of the small to medium "Skyfire" can no longer threaten the walls of Winterwolf Fortress.

But this is not something worth celebrating.

The legion-level spells that the Black Flag Mage Corps prides itself on, which can unleash devastating firepower on the battlefield, can only be used for passive defense here. The condensed magic power is consumed in fruitless "deterrent bombings" time after time. The mages are bombarding empty ground with precious magic power, and only occasionally can they destroy a few rash enemy squads, which simply cannot be considered a military achievement.

Since nightfall, Count Palin Winterhold’s complexion has never improved.

However, Andresha knew there was nothing that could be done about it. Ultimately, the reason for such a predicament is simple—the Cecil Clan is willing to let their troops run amok on the plains. Even if a few echelons are destroyed, there are still more to support from behind, but Winterwolf Fortress cannot afford to let the Black Flag Mage Corps step out of the walls even a bit.

But everything should not have been this way...

Andresha stood on the castle’s high terrace, frowning as she watched this chaotic and turbulent cold night. Everything before her even made her feel a bit absurd.

She knew it was the Sect of the God of War’s problem that led Typhon to mistakenly start this "war," but why is the Cecil Clan’s reaction also so strange?

They also seem determined to fight, but this does not match the previous judgments of her grandfather and many military advisors in the country about the situation.

"General," a voice from behind suddenly pulled Andresha back to her senses. "Count Winterhold asks you to discuss the city defense plan for tonight—he’s in the East Hall."

Andresha took one last look towards the direction of the walls, nodding to the adjutant as she turned around: "I understand."

She stepped away, prepared to leave the terrace, but stopped once more as she passed by her adjutant.

"General?"

"Any replies from the imperial capital? Matilda, His Majesty, or my grandfather," she asked. "Any response?"

"None," the adjutant shook his head, "Communications directed to Aldernon have sent your letters three times, but there’s no reply. The communication tower network from the border to the imperial capital was just renovated recently. It’s hard to say if there might be an issue with slow forwarding at some node. If you’re worried something happened during the forwarding, we can send it again."

Delayed forwarding... at a time like this?

Andresha looked at her adjutant: "Clodian, if we are in such chaos here, then as the headquarters of the Sect of the God of War, over there in Aldernon..."

"It’s a terrifying possibility, but at this stage, we can only trust the judgment and abilities of His Majesty and the parliament," the adjutant said. "Everyone has their tasks to handle."

"...You’re right," Andresha hesitated for a few seconds, helplessly said.

No matter, following orders is what she has been taught since childhood, and as a border commander, she is aware of her limited authority.

"General, should we contact Aldernon again?" the adjutant asked nearby.

"No need, I must first go to the East Hall to see Count Winterhold," Andresha shook her head, moving forward, casually instructing the adjutant, "Go to the first-floor hall, report to me immediately if anything happens."

"Yes, General."

Andresha left the terrace, descending the spiral staircase, crossing the corridor connecting the tower and the wall, and quickly heading towards the East Hall.

The cold night wind, mixed with the sound of distant cannon fire, blew through her strands of hair.

When she came to an intersection, she suddenly stopped.

Andresha lifted her head to look at a nearby tower—it was a building resembling a mage tower, but at its top floated a peculiar ring, faintly glowing in the night sky, rotating slowly under the maintenance of a force field, a deep, weak hum resonating in the night.

That was the communication tower of Winterwolf Fortress.

Andresha usually never ventured into this facility since she lacks the talent of a spellcaster, neither understanding how the communication tower operated nor being able to use the magical devices inside. Hence, matters related to it were always managed by mages under her command.

Now, with war suddenly breaking out, countless affairs in Winterwolf Fortress are in chaos, leaving her almost no time to catch her breath, let alone focus on the operation of the communication tower—which, as the highest commander, shouldn’t be something she needs to focus on anyway.

Yet at this moment, she stopped in front of the communication tower.

The situation... seemed off. She felt she might have missed some detail or been blinded by something.

Andresha’s expression suddenly turned resolute, her hand on the hilt of her sword as she strode towards the direction of the communication tower.

In front of the high tower stood two combat golems, silent and seemingly functioning normally.

Andresha moved past the golems, reaching out to push open the large door of the communication tower.

A faint scent of blood reached her nose.