Chapter 1327 — More Savage Than Savagery
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
A sky-high blaze scorched heaven and earth; rampant living flames lunged into the darkness of the winter night, as if daylight had come a second time and the sun were rising anew above the horizon—not long ago, the aberration horde had utterly destroyed and occupied this land, corrupting and pulverizing everything they touched; now, in turn, that very fact became the excuse for this land's defenders to unleash their fury without restraint.
Upon this land there was no longer anything that needed careful protection; wherever the living fire spread, only the ugly, malformed flesh and bone of those monsters remained.
"A fine fire indeed." Wycliffe, freshly treated and bandaged, stood atop the iron-cast cathedral tower, gazing through the translucent energy shield and reinforced glass toward the distant mountain pass. The living flames were splitting apart at the edge of the earth; countless elementals clambered over the mountainsides, leaping, scattering meteor showers of fire, or simply exploding in place into enormous mushroom clouds. Their brief lifespans were already nearing their limit—the artificially created elemental environment would lose balance and dissipate within the next few minutes—but as fire elementals, the closer they came to collapse, the more terrifying their power.
The human king even conjured a chilling image: what nightmare would unfold if even one such incendiary bomb were to fall into an ordinary city? But at least in this moment, that nightmare had descended upon the heads of those ugly monsters, and Wycliffe could not keep the corners of his mouth from curling upward, feeling a joy that rose from the very depths of his heart.
"The infernal incendiary is more powerful than I imagined..." A steady voice came from beside him, interrupting the king's reverie. The White Knight commander named Amair had come up the stairs not far away, his heavy iron boots striking the floor with a dull, powerful sound. "No wonder Princess Frostbloom stressed to us again and again that it must never be deployed near our own people, and that the safety distance must be sufficiently far..."
Wycliffe turned and saw the light cast by the arcane crystal lamps falling upon this "medical priest's" armor; the rune-covered surface of the plate shimmered with a faint radiance, making it impossible for him to tell whether it was mere lamplight or the "afterglow of holy light." But to him now, and to the surviving soldiers in the great cathedral, every one of these "priests" from the Cecil Empire radiated a sacred splendor—even their warhammers, heavy cannons, and burners seemed as holy and pure as light-forged relics.
These reinforcements, descending from the winter night sky, had saved not only him and his soldiers, but also the vast lands and countless people beyond the Augustre Mountains.
"Allow me to express our gratitude once again," the king said with great solemnity. "Whether from a personal standpoint or from Augustre's, we owe you an enormous debt—one day, this debt of friendship will be repaid."
"Then let it stay owed for now, Your Majesty. This war is not over," Amair said in a deep voice. "The flames of the infernal incendiaries will soon fade. After that we will remain here, using the cathedral itself and the engineering materials carried by the ground forces to build a new defense line. With air support, we can seal this breach—according to intelligence from the Dawn of the Mortal World, those monsters are temporarily withdrawing, but they will return soon enough. No one knows how many aberrations remain in the wasteland. Until we counterattack to their stronghold and purify the entire wasteland, we still have a war to fight."