Chapter 633 — Rapid Deterioration
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
The crystal giants all changed at once.
In the northern reaches of the Red Maple region, at Outpost No. 3, the sky hung overcast, a fierce wind howled, and the guns thundered.
Great numbers of crystal giants that had wandered in from the eastern regions were now racing across the plains—those swollen, deformed horrors moving in wild frenzy, sweeping over the flats, surging past the hills, some hurtling into the distance, others charging the Legion's defensive line. Harsh arcane arcs split the air, lighting up the tainted plains beneath the dim sky, and on Outpost No. 3, a key node upholding the line, the guns never ceased.
Heavy magitech cannons made minute adjustments to their firing angles under the action of their mechanical mounts; a rune-rail flickered, and shells trailing pale cyan vapor flew into the distance. In their tank emplacements, the Warhammer Type I tanks fired again and again, their denser barrage pounding the plains east of the outpost, weaving a fire net so tight no wind could pass.
A Cecil captain in white armor traced with blue stood behind the emplacement, watching the battlefield through his tactical visor.
Unbroken chains of explosion flashes and shockwaves blanketed the frenzied crystal host; every second countless twisted limbs and shattered crystals were blasted into the sky. Yet against that murky sky, still numberless monsters poured in from afar, falling meaninglessly upon this line of death.
The captain shut off his visor and turned from the emplacement.
Nearby, a signal officer infused his voice with magic and bellowed: "Battery Two, cool down—swap in the accelerant rails! Battery Three, commence fire!" "Burners preheated!" "Shells delivered!" "The Pathfinder has reached position!"
The captain hurried through the busy artillery positions and the supply trenches, the crack of weapons and the shout of orders rising and falling around him. He passed a sentry post and made for a tall commander wearing a knight's insignia and a short black cloak bearing a white emblem.
Three short, muffled thumps sounded close by; three bright signal flares shot into the sky, their stark flashes lighting the camp and spilling their radiance across the silver-white surface of the knight's armor.
"Sir! The enemy's assault has been checked—they're pinned beyond the line," the captain said, snapping a salute to the commander before him, his words tumbling out fast. "But those monsters show no sign of falling back, no trace of discipline—they're in a state of absolute frenzy."
The commander nodded. "Keep consolidating the eastern line. However many come, they die on the fire line—our supplies and men are sufficient."
"Yes, sir."
The captain took his orders and left. The commander glanced once at the battlefield, then turned and strode toward the command post.
A low, deep hum carried over from the direction of the Gorgon River. In the fading glow of the signal flares, two terrifying beams of energy—like rivers of pure light—suddenly blazed to life, piercing the dim sky and sweeping the whole battlefield from west to east. Then, with solemn deliberation, they raked across the plains swarming with crystal giants; wherever the beams passed, giants and rock alike were vaporized, leaving only a scorched and smoldering waste.
Inside the command post, the Weave terminal hummed, its holographic projection displaying the half-length image of Philip, supreme commander of the ground forces.
The commander halted before the terminal and saluted, his voice ringing out: "General, the line at Outpost No. 3 is stable. The calibration beams have swept the eastern and northern approaches. We can establish the next strongpoint."
"Maintain suppressing fire. The next advance unit enters from the southwest in thirty minutes," Philip said evenly. "What's the situation with the crystal giants over there?"
"Out of control. Frenzied. Almost no reason left—but no sign of any decline in power."