Chapter 1021 — Annihilation Force

At the same time, across the vast, unbroken land of the whole Winterhold region, among the camps and outposts where currents of magical light surged, a piercing shriek suddenly sounded above the camp of one particular mage legion; the surge of turbulent magic crashed against the camp's protective wards — the strong, precise wards of ordinary days proved all but useless before this mighty magical craft from the old Gundor Empire; the surge punched through the camp's barrier in an instant, and countless fine electric sparks swept over the entire station like a great wave.

Hundreds of low-ranking mages and their knight escorts fell one after another — some sinking into deep coma from magical exhaustion, others dead where they stood.

A patch of the magical net covering the Winterhold defense line abruptly went dark, and at the front of the line, the mushroom cloud raised by the Annihilation Wound was rapidly dispersing.

The mountain-like giant walked out of it unhurried, its heavy tread carrying it step by step toward the line of mortals.

Several griffin scouts took to the air nearby, trying to circle and observe the giant — but two of the knights strayed too close, or perhaps the two wretched griffins had their minds broken by the ubiquitous dread pressure: they and their riders suddenly hurtled, beyond all control, toward the giant, striking its iron-grey armor like flies against a bell tower.

The armor's seemingly metallic surface suddenly rippled in layer upon layer of waves, and the two griffin riders and their mounts melted into the armor as though dissolved, leaving behind only patches of rust-like stain.

Half a second later, even those stains had vanished utterly.

The sentry's voice came from the crystal: "Second strike ineffective. Target undamaged! Still closing on our line!"

Luo Yan watched the projected image on the illusion wall calmly. "Continue."

The third orb rose, and correspondingly another stretch of camps along the defense line plunged into darkness.

Once again the vast mushroom cloud climbed, blotting out sky and sun; once again the giant's figure was shrouded in a heavy curtain — but once again heavy footsteps sounded from the depths of the blast cloud: the earth still trembled, and with that dreadful trembling the enormous iron-grey figure strode proudly out!

Palin Winterhold stood atop the high mage tower, watching through another set of monitoring devices the giant that drew ever nearer to Winterhold. The learned and valiant leader of battle mages felt his heart pounding; never had he known tension, fear, even despair such as he felt today — even without the mental corruption of a god, the sheer pressure left him half suffocated. Watching the giant march on, he clenched his fist hard, and only then realized that his palms were already soaked in sweat.

Three Annihilation Wounds! Three! Even the strongest fortress ever built by human hands could not have come through the repeated bombardment of that terrible magic unscathed — yet that giant... its stride had not slowed in the least!

Palin Winterhold knew what the Annihilation Wound was; he had taken part himself in the analysis and reconstruction of that ancient magic, and had personally completed its final link — this was a terrible power from the age of old Gundor, once sustained in this world only by the magic of the Well of Deep Blue, and now the mages of Typhon could bring it back into the world by means of their unique collective casting techniques and their immense supply of magic.

Every Annihilation Wound came at a tremendous cost: hundreds upon hundreds of transcendents drained dry, priceless crystals and gems burned to powder, and many likely to pay with their lives — it was not a "cost-effective" weapon, and when it was finished many mages had despaired of it, judging it nearly useless in real combat. But now it had been brought out, to accomplish a task that had to be done no matter the price — and yet... could it truly be done?

The sound of someone swallowing came from beside him; the Count of Winterhold knew it was some nervous mage officer's involuntary noise, but he had not the slightest thought now of reproof or reminder — he only stared fixedly at the image cast by the magic, at the figure of that giant.

Suddenly, his gaze came to rest on a certain part of the giant's body.

Near the giant's pauldron, on the surface of an armor plate close to the arm, there was a very faint black mark — so inconspicuous that at first Palin Winterfell took it for nothing more than a smudge, but he quickly realized: how could a god bear a smudge?

It was a crack! A genuine, unmistakable crack!

A god's protection could be breached!

Palin Winterfell felt his breath turn suddenly ragged, and nearby, the mage charged with observation and reporting had already stepped up to the transmission crystal, reporting with a trace of tension: "Third strike... the third strike is ineffective, the target is unharmed—"

"The strike was effective!" Count Winterfell rushed to the transmission crystal like a gust of wind, nearly bowling over the mage-sentry responsible for the report. "Your Majesty, the third strike was effective! A crack has appeared on the target's armor — His protection can be breached!"

He reported this with excitement, and from the other side of the transmission crystal came a brief second of silence, then a calm voice: "Continue."

……

The image upon the illusion wall was distorted by magical interference; a moment later the interference faded, and the ever-advancing giant once again appeared before Luo Yan Augustus.

At the giant's feet, the "scars of war" — replete with death, blood, and fire — had already spread to the very edge of the Winterfell defense line.

But the giant was not wholly unscathed — a hairline crack had indeed appeared in His armor; inconspicuous though it was, the crack truly existed.

Luo Yan narrowed his eyes slightly.

Today was the New Calendar Festival.

Today's god... was not invincible.

Yet just then, a voice rang out abruptly from empty air, saying in a most ill-timed manner: "Things look to be going well on the surface... but it seems the 'good cards' you have in reserve are hardly enough to intercept Him before He utterly destroys the entire defense line."

Unreal starlight surged through the Arcane Hall, and a hollow eye floated in midair, watching Luo Yan.

"What was that spell you used again... ah, it does seem to carry some power, but in the end it falls a little short. To destroy a god with only these arrangements — isn't that a bit too far-fetched?

"And then again... is this giant-shaped god really the God of War...? He seems rather different from what I remember..."

"Has madness twisted His image? How pitiful — to fall into madness is a truly pitiful thing..."

Luo Yan Augustus seemed not to hear the eye's endless murmuring at his ear; he merely gazed levelly at the scene displayed in the magical projection, then lifted his head and glanced at the western sky.

"Fourth strike effective, Your Majesty. The target continues to take damage, but shows no sign of weakening — the target is approaching the first warning line!"

Luo Yan withdrew his gaze and looked at the magical illusion projected upon the wall before him.

"Continue."