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Chapter 702: The Empire's Loss
Chapter 702: The Empire’s Loss
An electric crackle erupted in the Imperial Soldier’s ear: "Azimuth 175, Altitude 3500, Prepare to fire!"
With a sharp metallic grind, the cannon’s barrel surged upward. The Ogre loader moved with practiced precision, slamming an armor-piercing shell into the chamber. The crisp clink of the bronze casing echoed like a silver coin striking stone.
Through the targeting scope, the crosshair locked onto the blurred silhouettes soaring high above—winged figures with the grace of divine descent.
The Holy Guard’s longswords burned with a blinding radiance, and from above, cascades of Tianhuo Fall, divine light, rained down like celestial punishment, searing the earth and igniting the Imperial ranks.
To mortal eyes, they were arrogant embodiments of supremacy—angels worthy of worship, divine envoys beyond human comprehension. But to the Imperial Soldiers?
Just enemies. Just targets. Just data points to be converted into battle merit.
"Fire!"
The Commander’s roar exploded at the same instant as the first shell roared from the muzzle. The shockwave from the cannon blast ripped off the soldiers’ military hats, sending them spinning through the air.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
In an instant, the sky erupted in a storm of orange-red flame. Shrapnel wove through the clouds like a burning net, hurtling toward the high-altitude Thrace Holy Guard.
To counter the divine offspring of angels, the Empire had inscribed special runes onto many of their armor-piercing shells—runes specifically designed to disrupt Sun God power.
The Holy Guard Chieftain—six-winged, serene—gazed forward with cold detachment. Golden eyes flared with inner fire, and a mark upon his brow pulsed with light.
"Sacred Chant seals the forehead. Divine eyes burn like torches."
He chanted softly, raising his flaming sword. The blade traced a circle in midair, and from swirling fire, a crimson rune array materialized before him.
One by one, the other Holy Guards followed, their low, resonant hymns rising in unison. With longswords drawing circles, more crimson rune arrays bloomed across the sky—until they converged into a massive inverted pentagram, hundreds of meters wide, dyeing the heavens a hellish orange.
"Boom!"
"Boom! Boom!"
Anti-aircraft shells slammed into the rune array, detonating in furious explosions—but the array barely trembled. Only ripples of raw energy rippled outward.
The array was vast, complex, but not holy. It pulsed with a blood-red hue, thick with unnatural malice.
On the ground, Tal frowned, muttering: "An inverted pentagram…"
The Holy Guard raised their swords. With a deep, thunderous roar from the sky, burning meteors burst forth from the rune array, plummeting toward the Empire’s soldiers like celestial wrath.
Worse still, each meteor was encased in a whirling, inverted pentagram—its core spinning with unnatural power. Even the shells, once fired, were warped, compressed, and fused into a single regiment, forming a metal sphere nearly ten meters wide, hurtling down toward the earth.
The sky trembled. The earth shuddered. This full-power strike carried a force rivaling a Ninth Circle arcane banishment spell—far beyond the reach of mortal resistance.
"Wrrrrr—"
The Imperial Soldiers’ eardrums screamed under the assault of a violent, invisible pressure wave. Confused, they looked up—then froze in place.
The sky split open, revealing intricate, crimson carvings. A fireball, trailing sulfurous flames, tore through the clouds like a divine hammer.
"Kai Xiusu above!"
"That’s…"
Dread surged through their hearts. Their minds, once filled with arrogance, now screamed in terror. Their faces drained of color. Some stood paralyzed, lost.
They had always watched enemies scream and writhe in agony during disasters.
Now, they were the victims.
Now, they were the ones trembling in despair, waiting for the end.
Tal snapped into action, barking orders: "Anti-aircraft guns—intercept them! Open fire!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Dozens of anti-aircraft cannons roared, spewing flame and thick smoke. Shells shot skyward, weaving another net in the air.
But the meteors were wrapped in the inverted pentagram—immune to mid-air detonation. They didn’t explode. Instead, they absorbed the shells, pulling the metal into their cores like hungry veins.
Scorching debris rained down like fire, burning the earth, siphoning life force from the soldiers, piercing through steam tanks with ease.
Before the meteors even struck, a searing thermal surge swept across the ground. Heat blistered skin. Dust stung the eyes. The air reeked of burnt flesh and scorched metal.
The soldiers tried to flee—but found no escape. The meteors had already surrounded them, sealing off every path. The entire frontline position was encircled.
The earth cracked open. Scorching chains erupted from below, writhing through the air like serpents, cutting off all roads. The Imperial Army was trapped.
Fear turned to despair. Some soldiers dropped to their knees, praying to their god—Emperor Kai Xiusu of the Ember Empire—begging for salvation.
"Great Red Dragon…"
"King Kai Xiusu, bless us! We’ll survive!"
The half-dragon officer stared at the approaching meteors, teeth clenched, sweat soaking his back. "We can’t die here…"
Tal knew—once those meteors landed, his entire mixed division would be annihilated.
This could be the first time in Empire history that a full division was wiped out. As the commanding general, he would be etched into the Pillar of Historical Shame.
He raised his rocket launcher, targeting the descending meteor above. "Spell Defense Unit—hold the line!"
Over a hundred massive Ogres lifted their great shields. Runes across the metal flared to life, emitting a shimmering anti-magic field. A hemisphere of defense, hundreds of meters wide, enveloped the Empire’s frontline.
But the meteor descended like a hammer on an eggshell—crushing the shield with effortless force.
"BOOM!"
A deafening explosion tore through the sky. Flames shot upward. Thick smoke billowed across the earth, consuming everything—soldiers, cannons, steam tanks—reducing them to ash.
The thermal surge overturned everything. Charred limbs and metal fragments flew like shrapnel, forming a monstrous storm.
Then—ripples tore through space.
A tear split the sky. Dozens of spatial rifts split open, and from them poured a flood of warships—over a dozen airships, hundreds of wyverns—surging forth like a storm of living clouds, instantly dominating half the sky.
"Aaaarrrrgh!"
Alje, riding his Dragonvein Eagle, soared high above. He stared at the pillar of fire and dust, his eyes narrowing. "Too late… we’re too late."
He raised his longsword, pointing at the Holy Guard far above.
"We don’t let them escape! For the fallen warriors—avenge them!"
Instantly, the wyverns roared, flapping their wings, breathing torrents of dragonfire—like a tidal wave of flame, charging forward in full formation.
Beneath the airships, elemental heavy cannons locked onto the Holy Guard, firing thick beams of raw power—crackling with lightning, frost, and fire, unleashing a storm of elemental fury.
Missiles rained from the sky, dense as a storm, slamming into the Holy Guard.
After unleashing that cataclysmic meteor assault, the Holy Guard’s power was nearly spent. They could not endure another battle.
Many of their bodies had begun to warp—skin cracking, revealing crimson flesh beneath. Feathers from their wings burned away mid-flight, their forms flickering like dying embers.
The Holy Guard Chieftain turned, six wings flaring, his expression unreadable. He spoke, voice cold:
"Our goal has been achieved. No need to linger. We leave."
"Yes, Lord."
At the order, every Holy Guard raised their longswords in unison—perfectly synchronized, like puppets on strings.
"Wrrrrr—"
A column of light shot into the sky, tearing through clouds like a divine pillar. The ethereal hymn returned, echoing across the heavens. The inverted pentagram beneath them spun faster, warping space around them. The air shimmered, fractured, then glowed with otherworldly light.
"Damn it! They’re teleporting! We can’t let these Thracians escape!"
Alje roared, diving at breakneck speed, a crimson afterimage trailing behind him.
"You hold the space open! I’ll disrupt them!"
On the airships, the Empire’s court mages raised their staves, chanting ancient words. They wove a vast, intricate spellcraft model—seeking to seal the space.
【Dimensional Lock】
Thick chains of light emerged from nowhere, glowing fiercely, coiling around the sky, slowly closing in like a cage.
Alje closed the gap.
One hundred meters.
Fifty.
Twenty.
As Alje swung his longsword, aiming to cleave the Chieftain’s head—
Hundreds of Holy Guards vanished in a flash of light. Their bodies flickered into transparency, then dissolved into nothing.
The hymn warped, distorting into a low, rasping laugh that echoed through the sky.
"Swish!"
Alje’s sword cut through empty air. The full-force strike cracked the space around him, fissures spiderwebbing through the atmosphere.
He reined in his giant eagle, hovering in midair. Below, the battlefield was a wasteland—charred corpses, broken tanks, scorched earth.
His face darkened. "Damn Thracians… they got away."
Alje circled down, landing. He knelt, examining the wreckage, inhaling the air—sharp, sulfurous.
He picked up a handful of ash. His brow furrowed. "Spiritual soul residue? Not Sun God power… this reeks of Hell."
He sighed. "This was an entire mixed division. The Military Faction will be furious."
His gaze lifted to the western front command center. His expression hardened.
In Isak Valley, the temporary command post of the Empire’s Western Front, news of the frontline disaster sent shockwaves through the high-ranking officers.
Chaos erupted. Arguments flared.
For the first time since the Empire’s founding, a division-level unit had been wiped out—completely.
If word reached the capital, it would spark outrage across the entire realm.
"What? The Third Combined Division… annihilated?"
"By Kai Xiusu’s grace! That was fifteen thousand men—complete armored regiments, air support! How could they be wiped out by Thracians?!"
"I told you! Tal’s a damn fool! He never had the command ability for a division!"
"Great Red Dragon! A whole division—erased! This is the Empire’s humiliation! What face do we have to show King Kai Xiusu?"
"Enough!"
Arturo slammed the table, rising to his feet, his voice thunderous. "The damage is done!争吵 and blame are meaningless! I am the highest commander here—and I take full responsibility!"
He scanned the room, his gaze piercing each officer’s face. Then, his voice softened, grim.
"We underestimated the Thrace Kingdom. We underestimated Fadalan’s depth. We split our forces, pushing into the northern regions like we did before—cutting off the Third Division from the main force. That’s how this happened. Their Holy Guard can unleash attacks on par with Ninth Circle banishment spells. Without High-Grade warriors like Duke Alje or Duke Misha to counter them, they could destroy an entire division in an instant!"
Another officer spoke: "We must change tactics. As one of the Three Great Kingdoms that inherited the Sacred Fedran, Thrace has more tricks up its sleeve. We should advance steadily—no reckless charges."
"But we’re fighting on Thrace soil!"
"If we move too slowly, we’ll fall into attrition warfare—and our supply lines will fail!"
"Then we abandon the scattered cities to the Stellarfallen. Focus the main force and launch a full-scale assault on August!"
The officers erupted again, arguing fiercely.
Arturo gripped the massive map of Thrace, his fists clenched so hard blood welled from his knuckles. His voice was raw, desperate:
"Holy Guard…"
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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