Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 619 - 618: Iron Throne

The holographic projection from the Magic Web Terminal gleamed, creating a wondrous atmosphere of mixed fantasy and technology in the room after dusk. Gawain sat in front of the communicator, listening attentively to Kamel’s report from the rear laboratory.

"...Pittman has confirmed that high-level Crystal Cluster Giants are converted from the priests of the Oblivion Association—not ruling out the possibility that ’commanders’ converted from other Transcendents might appear in the future, but for now, the fanatical Followers of Oblivion are the core upper level of the Crystal Cluster Legion...

"The Crystal Cluster Giants converted from ordinary people are smaller in size and have lower strength. Their thinking ability, or the remnants of their rationality, rely on higher-ranking individuals to maintain. There is a peculiar dependency relationship between higher and lower-ranking Crystal Clusters; lower-ranking Crystal Cluster Giants can think, but their thought process is not complete...

"Pittman and I unanimously hypothesize that this unique connection among Crystal Cluster Giants indicates they possess a certain degree of ’psychic communication.’ Commander-level Crystal Cluster Giants may be able to control nearby units through this psychic communication or perceive the status of distant Crystal Cluster Legions, but such sensing won’t be very clear and will rapidly diminish with distance—this conclusion comes from multiple isolation control experiments."

"After losing their commander, lower-ranking Crystal Cluster Giants quickly weaken and lose reason, degenerating into monsters that act solely on instinct. Complete weakening takes about an hour—rationality ceases immediately..."

Gawain listened closely to Kamel’s report without missing a word, occasionally furrowing his brow, and at times relaxing it.

Thanks to the researchers in the rear, soldiers on the frontline do not have to face unknown enemies. As more and more infection samples are sent to the rear, and as Kamel activates his memories from the Gondor era, the various characteristics of the "divine evils infectees" are finally revealed to the world.

Next to Gawain, Sir Philip, who was listening in, had a thoughtful expression on his face: "To some extent, psychic communication ability... no wonder they could organize a large-scale pursuit of Soldrin in a short time before, and maintain high organization without conventional scouts and messengers."

Gawain looked at this young knight who was increasingly becoming a mature commander: "What are your thoughts?"

"The psychic communication ability of the Crystal Clusters is a troublesome advantage for us, meaning they have no less speed in information flow on small-scale battlefields than we do, possibly even faster," Sir Philip pondered seriously. "But very clearly, their psychic communication ability is also very limited, the command structure established is relatively chaotic and unclear, not impossible to deal with. Moreover, I think the massive loophole in their organizational structure is more of a focus than the advantage brought by psychic communication."

Gawain nodded slightly: "As long as we destroy the command nodes, they will quickly collapse—mindless monsters are much easier to deal with than organized soldiers."

"I will formulate a feasible tactic with deputy officers, staff, and think tanks," Sir Philip said solemnly. "If it works, our advancement speed will certainly accelerate."

Gawain couldn’t help but feel a bit sentimental: Without Byron Kirk nearby for fun and games, Sir Philip’s efficiency in thinking tactics evidently skyrockets, perhaps even using the threads spared from fooling around for tactic-making...

Then Kamel continued to report on the research findings from the rear: "Additionally, we compared the magical surge and erosion degree on divine evils carriers and mutants, and have a preliminary conclusion on the ’ritual power’ that causes them to suddenly mutate from carrier to mutant state—related to divine intervention."

Gawain gently inhaled: "It’s indeed the power of gods..."

"I found activated divine evils Factor inside infectees who fully mutated into Crystal Cluster Giants—although equipment limitations prevent full separation, I can judge they were activated by some inducement. Just as the ancient Gondor Empire extracted flesh and power from Amoen, the Giant Stag, to create the first-generation divine evils, the Oblivion Association must have its own ’energy source’ to reactivate those divine evils Factors that originally became latent hereditary factors. So far, although evidence is yet direct, we can theoretically affirm that the Oblivion Association holds some kind of god-like power or a substitute for god-like power..."

Gawain’s expression remained calm, showing no surprise.

Long before this disaster broke out, he already realized the Oblivion Association was brewing some astounding schemes behind layers and layers of mysteries, and vaguely guessed it related to ’gods’—after all, the initial fall of the Three Great Dark Sects apparently has ties with the Divine Realm, and their ultimate goal being pointed at the gods is no surprise.

Following this, after conversations with Tiel, the sea demon with rich experience in both devouring and preparing in the realm of god-slaying divulged information further confirming Gawain’s guess. For this reason, he even requested Tiel to make preparations ahead to handle potentially terrifying dark plots involving gods.

At this moment, Kamel’s research finally gives some evidence from an empirical direction: the Oblivion Association has brought a ’god’ into this battlefield.

This gave Gawain enormous pressure, but he did not despair because of it.

The power of gods is terrifying to mortals; if a truly enraged god descended, perhaps the Cecil Clan would indeed be powerless to resist. But could the Oblivion Association bring a true god down to assist in warfare? Obviously not. They at most found flesh remnants similar to Amoen and activated some portion of its activity, or artificially created a powerful monster with partial divinity through forbidden techniques. Regardless of which possibility, since it’s something made by those evil cult followers using human spells, it surely isn’t indestructible.

Sacrilegious followers must be able to control...

Even if the Oblivion Association has produced a living ’Artificial God’ impossible to destroy with Cecil’s artillery, there are still Tiel and her oceanic demon allies who can help. Although they perhaps can’t handle a real god (despite regularly eating God of Storm sashimi that doesn’t resist), as the fallen empire daddies with über technological prowess, they surely can deal with a ’flavored’ counterfeit.

On top of that, Gawain previously reviewed ’Deicide Fleet’ reports, and once being an atheist in his past life, when facing god-related issues, he may feel nervous or cautious but always retain some leeway—though currently this leeway might be just mystic self-assurance.

But that’s confidence at least.

What Gawain was curious about was Sir Philip’s thoughts about the forbidden power potentially held by the Oblivion Association.

"I have no thoughts," the young knight replied solemnly upon Gawain’s inquiry, "it’s the knight’s duty to obey the lord’s orders and to protect the territory and people. Under this premise, I only care about where the enemy is, not who the enemy is."

Such a response was unexpected; Gawain scrutinized Sir Philip, finding the young man’s upright fearless demeanor somewhat surreal: "Even if the opponent might be gods—or Evil Gods, or something beyond human comprehension?"

"The same," Sir Philip nodded, "charging at anyone is the same, the only difference is whether you can come back or not."

Gawain chuckled silently, shaking his head two seconds later, "I thought you’d at least feel a bit of fear."

Sir Philip’s expression turned slightly strange at Gawain’s words, then he bowed his head in thought, a bit awkwardly, "Actually, I am a little scared..."

"Oh?"

"So when I’m really on the battlefield like that, I’ll pull down my visor to prevent others from seeing my lips trembling. I’ll tie the weapon to my hand to prevent it from dropping. But I probably don’t need to write a will—I don’t have a wife or children, nor any other relatives. My property can directly return to the principality when the time comes..."

This response became immediately genuine.

Looking at the young knight’s serious demeanor, Gawain suddenly couldn’t resist pressing his forehead with his hand, "I think I might understand why Byron is so keen on bantering with you..."

Sir Philip thought for a moment but didn’t comprehend, "...Ah?"

"In any case, you don’t need to prematurely consider issues like dying bravely. We are fighting a war, not going to die on purpose; no one is going to die on purpose," Gawain patted Sir Philip’s shoulder, "Go arrange your tactical meeting. We need to enter the Red Maple District as soon as possible—if we can quickly open this passage, perhaps the last remnants of the kingdom’s military may still have hope."

Sir Philip left the barracks, and after reporting some laboratory operational situations, Kamel also left the communication channel.

Gawain sat at the table, organizing his thoughts while his gaze swept over a rear newsletter sent by Amber placed on the table:

"The situation in the eastern region is deteriorating, the Iron Throne has departed—Aunt Heidi."

"It’s better that your situation has deteriorated..." Gawain sighed lightly, "Saves me lots of trouble."

...

Since the mutation occurred, the entire Eastern Legion was engulfed in a dense fog, communications with the entire area west of Sorinburg were cut off, and both the Duke of the East and Prince Edmund vanished without a trace. The order in the entire eastern region rapidly slid into the abyss of chaos and disorder.

Rumors spread, no one controlled them, local aristocrats remaining in the east sensed a terrifying atmosphere but no one had the ability to grasp the entire situation or restrain the order in the east. News of the legion’s total annihilation became rampant, smaller families first lost control, followed by higher-ranking aristocratic leaders. Chaos spread from west to east, and the once united eastern area under Prince Edmund and Duke Silas Loland’s joint restraint showed signs of fragmentation—and what pushed the situation further into a downward spiral was the terrible news coming from the border area bordering the western region and Plains of the Holy Spirits.

An army of monsters stood up from the remnants of the Eastern Legion, now wandering the Plains of the Holy Spirits.

Those monsters seemed not to focus on the east yet; their target should be further north at St. Soniel. But the mere existence of the monster army shattered the last thread of restraint force for the aristocrats in the east—

The real aristocrats quickly made the most normal response in this era: summoning vassal knights, sealing their territory borders, returning overnight to a divided state. Then in tense confrontations, in vigilance against monsters, in mutual vigilance, the entire region’s situation instantly tightened into a hot oil pot.

In this situation, White Sand Mining Company, as the bridgehead of Cecil Principality, sent crucial information inward.

A machine of war, having completed all technical checks and tests in the Gran Region, responded to this information, heading to the east.

The road filled with magic power extended over the land, continuous magic shields covered the entire track, accompanied by the solemn hums created by steel wheels and magic mechanisms working in concert, a massive train was majestically entering the White Sand Mine Area.

In the dusk stained with orange-red, its body clad in solid steel armor shimmered with a cold light. The large train’s rail cannons and densely arranged turrets gleamed in the sunset. Its carriages were filled with fully armed soldiers and heavily armored White Knights. Its cargo platform firmly held neatly arranged war tanks and towed howitzers—It was like a fully armed steel fortress, even a moving fortress wall, heavy and full of dignity.

Holme, the general manager of White Sand Mining Company, stood in the tower by the station, quietly observing this miracle of the magical industry, a treasure of engineering, the symbol of Cecil’s strength—

Armored Train, Iron Throne.

Twenty minutes later, Holme stood on the high platform usually used for loading and unloading ores and heavy machinery, looking at the middle-aged knight who commanded the Iron Throne, dressed in black chaotic magic armor, with deep eyes and a weathered face.

"Glad to see you, Sir Maryland."

"Please don’t address me as ’Sir’," the middle-aged knight smiled, calmly extending his hand to shake Holme’s hand, "That was the Moen Royal Family’s conferral, it’s all in the past now."