Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 621 - 620: The Cessation of Snow and Wind

The ash-gray Giant Eagle soared through the sky, its massive wings glimmering faintly in the sunlight. The formidable bird seemed bathed in a trace of flames, weaving under the clouds, its sharp eyes reflecting the scorched earth below, the sprawling Crystal Cluster Army wandering at the land’s edge, and the Steel Legion steadily advancing the battlefront.

After a slanting sweep, the eagle changed direction, diving rapidly towards the earth, aiming for the vanguard of the Steel Legion.

Sonia Frostleaf leapt gracefully from the eagle’s back, walking towards Gawain amidst the eagle’s resonant ”coo” sounds.

”Thank you for your response,” Gawain greeted Sonia with a smile, ”We really do need manpower here.”

”I saw from above. This is a terrifying battlefield—it reminded me of Gondor seven hundred years ago, with the earth also turned into scorched land, monsters roaming everywhere,” the High-ranked Order Messenger did not hide the awe and astonishment on her face, ”But what surprised me even more is your army... honestly, it’s very different from what I imagined.”

”I was also a bit surprised when I saw these war machines operating at full strength,” Gawain said calmly, glancing into the distance, ”This place won’t turn into Gondor’s—after the burning, new sprouts will grow on the land. The plague crafted by the Oblivion Association will be purified sooner or later. Anzu will have one more scar, but scars heal.”

”Queen Belsetia is watching this catastrophe, but unfortunately, the Empire, far in the extreme south of the continent, cannot offer much help—she can only command me and all the messengers, cavalry scouts I lead to come assist. Other than Bannar the Magician who remains at the great walls, I brought my entire squad; they are still on their way and should arrive soon. Don’t worry, whether Rangers or Messengers, we become excellent scouts once we ride the Giant Eagle.”

Gawain smiled: ”That’s precisely what we’re lacking.”

The Cecil Clan does not lack regular reconnaissance troops—whether the elite Steel Cavalry or the well-trained corps scouts are excellent ground reconnaissance forces, but as the battlefront advances and the intensity of the warfare continuously intensifies, the pressure on ground reconnaissance troops is growing continuously: the entire area ahead is already heavily polluted, virtually no safe foothold exists, and human scouts cannot infiltrate among the monsters. Meanwhile, after suffering a series of heavy blows, the Crystal Cluster Giants have also reacted, becoming more vigilant and organized, even starting to counter Cecil’s reconnaissance and attacks. Amidst these pressures, aerial reconnaissance has become critically important.

The Cecil Clan has its own Gryphon Knights, but in limited numbers, and the Gryphons bred by humans fall far short of the elven Giant Eagle in flight altitude, speed, and adaptation to reconnaissance tasks. With the current state of anti-gravity technology not yet fully decoded and aircraft still unrealized, Gawain invited Sonia, while the Silver Queen also issued orders, allowing the entire messenger team, including Sonia, to serve the Cecil Principality in a ”hired” capacity, intervening in this war.

”Now we need to clarify the situation in the Red Maple District—an unusually large number of Crystal Cluster Legion are gathered there, and the combat strength and organization level of the Crystal Cluster Giants are significantly superior compared to other areas. I believe at least one command center exists there, with high priests from the Oblivion Association stationed.”

”Leave it to us, the eyes from the sky will clarify that command center,” Sonia nodded straightforwardly, ”Do you have any suggestions, though?”

”Only one suggestion,” Gawain said leisurely, ”Try to fly a bit higher—those giants have learned air defense after being attacked several times by Gryphon Knights carrying bombs.”

...

Continuous troops disappeared into the land interwoven with hills and forests in the south.

An unexpectedly organized army is steadily advancing northward, originating from the eerie lands at the southern borders, spreading smoothly and resolutely like some relentless tide towards here. Countless divine evils lost contact during this process, whether weak ”mutants” or powerful ”initial divine evils,” all indistinguishably submerged within the tide.

The commanders far in Red Maple City cannot accurately perceive the specifics of the frontline situation, but they can sense some ”qualities” released by the tide—steel-like firmness, emotionless advancement, terrifying explosions, fierce flames, consuming everything...

Archon Xidon stood on the tower in the Red Maple castle area, his crystallized eyes filled with angry light: ”It’s been this long and you still can’t organize a decent counterattack?!”

A priest from the Oblivion Association, wearing a dark priest robe but almost entirely transformed into the divine evil form, bore the Archbishop’s wrath with difficulty: ”The Cecil Clan’s magic machineries are exceedingly powerful, especially offensively... They can strike from incredibly long ranges, and after our divine evil army’s forced counter-charge, it only results in massive casualties...”

”So those converted rejects choose to refuse executing the charge orders? That was an order, not a suggestion! It’s an order that must be executed!” Xidon angrily slammed the table, causing a loud banging sound, ”What is a divine evil? It’s a war machine devoid of fear, pain, and hesitation, a cold blade! But now those once powerful war machines are scampering all over the plains like driven beasts, utterly disgraceful!”

In furious rage, the priests were silent as cicadas in winter, but after a brief release of anger, Xidon proactively calmed himself.

He took a deep breath, feeling his somewhat uncontrollable nervous system rapidly recover under the suppression of magical powers—for the sake of transforming into a stronger divine evil entity, he absorbed too much power from the Flesh Abyss. This made him more powerful, but also slowed his transformation, and before the transformation is entirely complete, his temper became even more irritable.

Despite regaining calm, he still realized that his anger was meaningless.

He’s not adept at military command. In fact, most priests from the Oblivion Association aren’t adept at handling battlefields—they are ultimately from a dark sect, with high-ranking members all priest-born. The powerful divine evil (Crystal Cluster) legion did indeed swiftly destroy most of the Anzu Kingdom’s military and Eastern Legion’s forces, but not because a bunch of dark priests had superior command; it was just that the legion was powerful enough.

Xidon calmly recognized this point and then contemplated who best suited the current situation.

Numerous commanders converted from the Anzu Kingdom’s military and Eastern Legion have now been deployed north, to attack the defensive line on the outskirts of St. Soniel City. The battle there is extremely crucial and cannot be influenced. Among the remaining commanders, the one likely most useful now is Clod.

In the east of Red Maple City, within the ruins almost entirely reduced to rubble in The White City, the Crystal Cluster Giant Clod paced irritably along the tall city walls, some silent lower-ranking commanders keeping their heads down nearby, while farther away, a powerful snowstorm hovered mockingly between the castle area and Inner City District.

Minutes later, Clod’s pacing suddenly came to a halt. He reached for a small Crystal Ball on his belt, the surface of which flickered continuously with light, emitting noticeable heat.

Clod stared at the Crystal Ball for a moment before rubbing its surface; in the next second, the voice of Archon Xidon came through the communication spell bound to this magical device: ”Don’t tell me you’re still dealing with that snowstorm!!”

”In fact, I am still dealing with it,” Clod said, restraining his frustration, ”We’ve encountered unexpected trouble.”

Heaven knows why the Magic Web inside continued running after the Magic Web nodes on the outside were destroyed! It only reduced in power a bit but still ran! The Cecil Clan definitely withheld many technical details while manufacturing the Magic Web and imparting it to local aristocrats! That thing wasn’t any ”ordinary large magic circle,” not a magic circle that would stop functioning simply by extracting a few key loops and cutting some energy connections!

”Listen, I’m not interested in the trouble you’ve encountered,” inside the Crystal Ball, Xidon’s voice continued, ”Our legion has met challenges in the south, you...”

As Xidon’s voice reached halfway, another strange buzzing and roaring sound suddenly pierced Clod’s ears, causing the Crystal Cluster Giant to raise his head instinctively.

He glanced toward the snowstorm in the castle area, observing large chaotic currents emerging at the top of the powerful and terrifying Magic Storm. Amidst the gradually weakening storm, countless sharp ice shards splattered outwards from the cyclone’s summit...

The snowstorm weakened!

”Archon, the snowstorm here has weakened—Victoria Wilder’s Mana is likely running dry!”

In the Crystal Ball, Xidon’s voice paused, seemingly a bit taken aback, followed by a brief silence before Clod heard Xidon’s voice once more: ”Very well, first deal with that annoying Duchess, then return promptly to Red Maple. I’ll tell you about the next task.”

The Crystal Ball dimmed; Clod stared at the magical device for a moment before putting it away again.

In the backdrop behind him (or it), the blizzard enveloping The White City is rapidly disintegrating.

...

The great barrier is about to collapse.

Victoria Wilder stands quietly on the terrace of the upper castle, watching the gradually dissolving blizzard, her face cold and indifferent.

She is dressed in a white gown, modified from a magic robe, draped with a silvery-white shawl, holding a Magic Wand inlaid with crystals and platinum. Several frost crystals emitting a chill revolve around her. At her feet is a large Array, with countless complex and profound lines and magic symbols extending from beneath her feet all the way to the edge of the terrace, reaching the interfaces of the castle’s Magic Web.

The Magic Web is still functional, but the energy it provides has significantly decreased. Victoria knows, this is because someone damaged the Magic Web Unit beneath the outer wall.

The saboteurs seemingly do not understand the principles of the Magic Web—Victoria vaguely recalls that the once-dead and revived founding hero had taught her a few terms, one of which was ”modular,” referring to the structure of the Magic Web that relies on the combination of numerous independent units.

This modular structure prevented the saboteurs from achieving their goal, allowing the magic supply in the Inner City District to persist until today, extending the time she could hold on. In fact, if she continued to persevere, Victoria could at least keep the blizzard going for another three days.

But today, she voluntarily ceased the spell.

Knights clad in gray-white armor stand on the terrace, while mages with magic robes, weary yet resolute, stand before Victoria. Behind them, soldiers of the Mountain Corps are already on the defense line, sword in hand, on the castle’s square, garden, inner courtyard, and walls.

The duchess looks at these loyal followers who have been with her for many years, takes a light breath, and steps forward.

”Today is the thirtieth day, and we have held these monsters at bay here for thirty days!

”The pioneering knights and civilians should have reached a safe place by now—at least, we have done our utmost.

”It is meaningless to continue maintaining the defense; it’s time to end all of this.

”Once the blizzard disappears, the enemy will swarm in. They might once have been our compatriots, once the Anzu people we knew, but now, they are enemies, monsters, unsalvageable mutants and sources of pollution. The only thing we can do is pick up our weapons to defend the dignity of being born human.

”Perhaps for every monster we kill here, we are giving other Anzu people a chance to survive.

”I’m sorry that I can’t take you all back to our homeland alive.

”But I am honored to die with you all.

”For Anzu!!”

The Magic Wand, filled with the brilliance of Magic Power, is raised high and then struck heavily into the ground.

The warriors stand like a forest of swords, their roars shaking the rapidly collapsing blizzard: ”For Anzu! To die with you!!”

By relying on the blizzard, perhaps people here could have lived three more days, but that would completely exhaust all Mana of Victoria and the Mage Corps, depleting the castle’s stored resources. After the blizzard stops, the brave and fearless Mountain Corps would face a one-sided slaughter, powerless to resist.

The northern parts of the Dark Mountain Range people do not like this.

The northern parts choose to die on the battlefield.

The duchess knows this, and so do the warriors.

The blizzard is down to its last remnants, and those twisted, terrifying Crystal Cluster Monsters can be vaguely seen across the snow and wind.

The Knights rush to the walls, the mages drink their last potions, and on the castle terrace, each person holds their weapon, heading towards this kingdom fortress’ last line of defense. Victoria merely holds her Magic Wand, quietly waiting for the blizzard to completely dissipate.

A familiar figure enters her view at this moment—her maid Maji walks through the soldiers, carrying two Longswords, her black hair lifted by the wind.

This is the first time for the warriors of the Mountain Corps to see this ”maidservant supervisor” in her armed appearance.

”Maji,” Victoria stops her maid, saying when she approaches, ”You don’t need to stay here; you are not an Anzu.”

”I once swore an oath to you,” Maji, holding a Longsword, quietly looks at Victoria, ”and in such a situation now, where else can I go.”

”No, you are the only one who can leave,” Victoria looks into Maji’s eyes, ”You know that—and I know that too.”

Maji shows a bit of surprise and a moment of panic, but before she could ask, Victoria has already continued: ”You go south.”

”Why south?”

”The pioneering knights previously broke through to the northwest. St. Soniel is the first line of hope; you head south—perhaps there is a second line of hope.”

The black-haired maid meets her mistress’ gaze. She knows the ”hope” mentioned by the other does not belong to the Mountain Corps.

”I understand,” she bows her head, ”I will go south.”

”Good,” Victoria takes a light breath, walks slowly forward, ”I will create a cyclone for you in the south—ride on it, hide yourself well, and then...

”Fly, Maji.”