Chapter 430: Chapter 432: Call of Fire Chapter 430: Chapter 432: Call of Fire Lister suddenly looked up, somewhat dazed, as he was commanding the garrison troops to fend off the attack while trying to keep the harbor running. He stared in the direction of the City-State.
In the City-State, mysterious twisted buildings surged up from otherwise normal streets, the distant land twisted and overturned, and faint thorn-like phantoms covered the mountains, chaotic shadows descending from illusions. Amidst this terrifying and eerie scene, a delicate and pale “dust” suddenly began to drift down.
This pale dust appeared out of nowhere in the sky, falling like the first snow of winter. It passed through overlapping phantoms and streets of twisted shapes, lightly settling on the streets of Frost–weightless yet seemingly endless.
Where the fine dust settled, the originally blurred and chaotic City-State suddenly became clear again, albeit only for a moment, albeit only a slight change, but Lister clearly saw that there were once again boundaries between the phantoms and the real streets.
But at this moment, he did not have time to think about what was happening, or even to consider his fate in the next minute.
The roar of the steam walkers opening fire and the booming of distant coastal artillery pulled him back to reality.
“Keep those freaks out of the dock area!” yelled Lister as he passed through the walkways between buildings and the defense lines constructed of steam walkers and temporary barricades. “Ensure the fuel and ammunition channels are clear! The port must not fall!”
Gunsmoke spread in all directions, the air mixed with the smells of fresh blood, machine oil, and the acrid scent of drying filthy mud. A steam walker was destroyed, immediately replaced by another spider machine emerging from cover, maintaining the fragile defense line.
Inside this defense line were the battered dock facilities and teams rushing through the port buildings.
Lister reached a higher position and looked towards the docks.
When monsters surged out of the thick fog in great numbers, the port nearly fell. He and his soldiers paid a heavy price to cleanse the contamination within the port area, erected a defense line on the road leading to the inner part of the City-State, and had held out until now.
According to the latest external communication, this port was now the only one in Frost still operational–the others were either still fiercely contested or had already fallen or could not function due to critical facilities being damaged.
He had to keep this place operational at all costs–because the sea battlefront was already precarious. Without this sole coastal support, the City-State's navy was truly doomed.
But… with another terrifyingly twisted City-State gradually encroaching on reality, could this place really hold?
Lister turned back, taking one last look at that piece of land swelling grotesquely from the City-State like a festering abscess, trying to ignore it as it gradually spread towards the port, and then he turned away from the defense line and returned to the defense headquarters.
Here too, it was a hive of activity. Officers and staff were frantic, with pessimistic intelligence coming from all corners. The calls and beeps of various radio communication devices filled the air.
A communication soldier sat in the corner of the room, his voice hoarse as he repeated into the radio: “Notify all ships nearby, this is the East Port, we are still operational, repeat, we are still operational–this is the only safe supply port, do not approach other ports…”
Lister approached one of his subordinates. “What's the situation at the supply dock?”
“The 'Coronet' is restocking ammunition and repairing its ammunition elevators. Its sister ship has lost power and is being towed back by a barge. Our ammunition, fuel, and fresh water are still plentiful, but the crane at Dock Four has been damaged and it's now paralyzed…”
Lister, with a grim face, listened attentively. Soon after, rapid footsteps approached from nearby. Another subordinate officer arrived by his side, looking tense: “Sir, we have an issue…”
“Everywhere has issues,” Lister said loudly, “report directly!”
“Yes, a ship is requesting to enter the port for repairs. It's… a ship from the Mist Fleet,” the subordinate officer said with a conflicted expression, “the Undead on board say their transmission mechanism is malfunctioning, and their onboard repair equipment can't handle it.”
Lister paused, then after three seconds, he gritted his teeth. “Let them enter the port. Fix it as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
His subordinate left, and Lister quickly moved to the window to observe the situation at sea.
A warship, billowing thick smoke, was slowly approaching the repair dock. The Frost Queen's flag waved at the ship's bow, and farther out at sea, wreckage floated everywhere.
“Half a century… This flag has finally returned to Frost in such a manner…”
Lister muttered unconsciously.
But in the next second, a commotion suddenly came from the direction of the corridor, interrupting the port defense commander's reflection.
“What now?” he turned his head, asking loudly.
A soldier pushed the door open, hurried and tense, with an embarrassed look as he addressed the commander: “Sir! Two… ordinary citizens, two young women, somehow got inside, insisting on speaking with you…”
Chapter end
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