Chapter 709: War Mission: August
When the Light Beam fired from the Maw of Annihilation struck the outer layer of the Light Screen, there was no explosion—only a sharp, crystalline chime, like shattering glass.
August’s pride—the Divine Gift Coating, a Golden Light Membrane painstakingly forged through the ceaseless prayers of dozens of Angel Divine Offspring and over a thousand Sun Priests—cracked and peeled away like a shattered eggshell, crumbling into fragments.
Then, the Light Screen’s internal structure was torn apart by the beam’s relentless force. Centered on the point of impact, space itself warped and folded like crumpled parchment.
Finally, the sky itself seemed to cry out in anguish. The Light Screen was ripped open by the magic-guided rail cannon’s boom, leaving a gaping hole nearly a hundred meters wide.
“Amanata above…”
“What… what weapon is that? How can it possess such power? Is it truly harnessing divine strength?”
Officers and soldiers within the City of August stared in stunned disbelief. For a century, this sacred barrier had stood unbroken—now, it was gone.
But there was no time for awe.
For the Empire’s next assault was already roaring toward them.
“All units—Charge!”
“For the Empire!”
“For Emperor Kai Xiusu!”
The Blue-Footed Serpent Horn blared. From the Empire’s frontline position, a thunderous roar erupted, shaking the skies and shattering the clouds.
Vrumm—
With the deep growl of engines, the Armored Corps of the Ashen Empire surged forward like a Steel Tide, their auras blazing as they surged toward the breach.
Behind them, the infantry marched swiftly, their firearms gleaming under the moonlight. Rifles spat flames from their muzzles, firing a relentless barrage of bullets—like a storm of steel rain.
Shhhhh—
A piercing scream split the air as over a hundred Wyverns, armored in “Tianhuo” plating, dove through the gap. Each carried devastating weapons: White Phosphorus shells, napalm bombs—brutal, merciless.
Boom! Boom!
With the shield gone, the city’s defenses collapsed. Bombs tore through the night sky, raining down in relentless waves. Each explosion shook the city walls, turning the Thrace frontline into a hellscape of burning gasoline and phosphorus fire.
Steel railings melted into red-hot slag, clinging to the walls like molten glue. Incendiary agents splattered across soldiers’ bodies, igniting fires that crawled up their limbs like living things. Thick, milky-white smoke choked the air, filling the city walls with poison.
“No—no—!”
“Great Eternal Lord of Light, save me!”
Thrace soldiers screamed in the sea of flames, writhing and praying to their gods—but their pleas were useless.
Noble officers huddled in towers and fortresses, slashing at the air with ornate swords, shouting in fury: “You cowards! Counterattack! Hold the line! Don’t let them break through!”
Sun Divine Trebuchets on the city walls launched blazing arrows, piercing Wyverns mid-air. But soon, without protection, those machines were destroyed—by shells etched with tracking runes that struck with surgical precision, annihilating both weapon and crew.
On the ground, Giant Armors swung their powered fists, smashing steel constructs blocking the breach into scrap. Then, Steam Tanks poured through the gap, roaring across the city’s outer ground, hammering the walls with relentless fire.
Under the impact of armor-piercing rounds, August’s city walls cracked and blistered, riddled with charred holes. Debris rained down. The entire wall trembled, hanging by a thread.
Machine gunners perched atop armored vehicles trained their rifles on the defenders, roaring as they fired.
Tatata-tatata—
Flames leapt from their barrels, a continuous torrent of bullets tearing through the Thrace soldiers. They fell in waves.
Meanwhile, the common soldiers—armed with double-barreled rifles imported from the Empire—fumbled to reload. Often, they hadn’t even raised their barrels before being cut down by a single burst, silenced forever.
Boom—
At an officer’s command, the iron city gate groaned open once more. Out poured the elite heavy infantry of the Thrace Kingdom—thousands strong, five or six thousand in all.
They marched in perfect unison, left hands bracing ornate, sun-etched heavy shields, right hands gripping silver rifles nearly ten meters long. Their golden, opulent armor gleamed under the light of the Sun God Tower, glowing like a fortress of gold from afar.
This army was known as the Radiant Legion—renowned across the land for their battlefield glory. They had once wiped out the last remnants of the Giant Tribes in the North and were especially adept at fighting massive enemies.
At their head, a noble warrior raised a long spear, waving the Thrace banner adorned with sun and wings.
“For Thrace! For the Eternal Lord of Light!”
“For Thrace!”
Their battle cry echoed across the sky—only to be drowned beneath a deeper, more thunderous roar, the deafening sound of artillery fire.
From every direction, Steam Tanks closed in. Their turrets swiveled, cannons aimed at the Radiant Legion. Then—Boom!
Hundreds of shells, trailing thick smoke, screamed toward the formation.
The noble raised his golden great shield, bellowing: “By the name of the Sun God’s subjects—hold them!”
Instantly, the intricate carvings on the shield flared to life. A wall of light formed in midair—like magic itself—blocking the incoming shells.
But this was only a probe.
As the artillery roared, the Steam Tanks fired again—this time, unleashing armor-piercing rounds specifically designed to shatter sacred and radiant magic.
Boom!
Thick-smoke-trailing shells pierced the light barrier without mercy, exploding violently within the ranks. Soldiers were thrown into the air, armor fragments and broken spears flying through the sky.
The noble officer barely blocked one round with his shield, teeth gritted. “Hold formation! We cannot let them breach August!”
But the Radiant Legion was already in chaos. Many were stunned, dazed, some even deafened—unable to hear anything. Their formation fractured.
Thick smoke filled the frontline, blinding them. They couldn’t see their comrades—let alone the enemy approaching.
No time to recover.
The Steam Tanks charged through the battlefield like raging beasts, tracks grinding over the bodies of heavy infantry, crushing them into pulp.
“We can’t hold!”
“These things can’t be broken!”
Hundreds of Steam Tanks split the battlefield like a flood—swift, merciless, annihilating the Radiant Legion. Corpses littered the ground, wheel tracks crisscrossing the field.
“Victory!”
“Crush these weak southern dogs! They’re nothing!”
Inside the tanks, humans and goblins screamed with euphoria, arms raised, already imagining their future rewards—promotion, glory, wealth.
But then—Thraces’ Arcane Legion struck back with terrifying might.
High above the Elemental Tower, dozens of mages in crimson-gold robes hovered in the air. They raised their wands, chanting low, deep incantations. Their voices grew clearer, the arcane web around them vibrating violently.
At the city wall’s peak stood the legendary mage, Aquilis. His crimson robes flared like raven wings in the gale. He turned his staff, golden liquid runes forming at his knuckles.
As ancient Elven incantations poured from his lips, every rune on August’s walls blazed with radiant light. The air filled with the stench of sulfur.
Aquilis opened his eyes.
Boom!
The ground before the city cracked open, revealing a chasm belching white smoke. Dozens of Steam Tanks and several Giant Armors were swallowed whole.
At the wave of his wand, molten magma surged from the abyss—floods of searing lava that engulfed the entire city, spreading like a tidal wave toward the Empire’s armored forces.
Even the unbreakable Steam Tanks melted instantly, their crews vaporized—no remains left.
Armor dissolved like wax. Crew members were preserved as grotesque flesh reliefs embedded in the steel.
In just seconds, over thirty tanks and a dozen Giant Armors were consumed. This was a spell of Arcane Banishment—legendary in power.
But the magma didn’t discriminate. It devoured not only enemy forces, but the surviving Thrace soldiers still stranded in the wasteland—leaving no bones, no traces.
“Only Aquilis could do this! Only our Arcane Legion!”
“Kill them all! Counterattack!”
The defenders on the wall roared in ecstatic relief, their voices trembling with the joy of surviving disaster.
The Empire’s Armored Corps fell back in disarray, retreating nearly a kilometer. The Empire’s spellcasters unleashed cold and water-based magic, freezing the lava into solid volcanic rock.
Airships above emitted thick beams of frigid light, scanning the area—turning everything into frozen stone.
In the end, a smooth, wave-like wasteland of solidified lava spread before August’s walls. The remains of tanks, armors, and soldiers were buried deep beneath.
“August will never fall!”
“Damned Empire scum!”
Thrace officers cheered, exhilarated by their victory—having repelled the Empire’s assault.
Deyef stared at the blackened wasteland, tearing off the tattered remnants of his uniform. His heart grew heavier.
Was this victory worth celebrating?
A kingdom that could bury its own living soldiers in molten lava… a regime that brutalized its citizens… was it still worth following?
The Empire’s Armored Corps had suffered heavy losses—one-fifth of their tanks consumed by magma.
After consultation, they didn’t charge blindly. Instead, they sent forth a ragtag army of Stellarfallen.
An ancient teleportation array carved into a stone monument flared to life within the Empire’s frontline.
Then, from the rune circle, thousands upon thousands of players flooded onto the battlefield—eager, excited, already shouting.
“Brothers, charge!”
“Move aside! Gotta get to the boss’s retirement ritual!”
“Holy crap—first to breach the wall gets a Noble Rank? This is insane!”
The battlefield erupted in chaos. These players weren’t marching to war—they acted like they were heading to a festival.
On every player’s screen appeared a quest prompt:
【Conquest of August】
Quest Type: War Mission
Objective: Conquer August. Kill Wilhelm.
Description: As the Sun God sleeps, Thrace’s era is over. These descendants of the Sun God deserve only to tremble before the Empire’s iron hooves!
Use every means possible—at all costs—to conquer the “City of Dawn,” August. Welcome the new age!
Reward: Massive gold, Faction Contribution, gold coins
Special Mission Title: 【Sunset Hero】
Players called for allies, and the effect snowballed.
“This quest is amazing! Wait—gotta summon my squad!”
“Stop mining! Come fight!”
“Get rich—today!”
Within minutes, under the pressure of the War Mission’s call, over a million players surged onto the battlefield—like a tide, rushing toward August.
“Aaaah—For the Empire! For King Kai!”
“Wilhelm, die!”
Steel Tide stuffed himself into a skyward cannon, grinning fiercely. “Clear the way! I’m gonna watch a textbook-level white give—uh, I mean, textbook-level breakthrough!”
Bang!
Dragon-Scaled Cultivators soared through the sky, carving graceful arcs before slamming onto August’s walls. They unleashed carnage—chainsaw swords slashing, blast arrow rifles firing bloody storms.
On the Sun God Tower, Wilhelm watched the horde descending upon his city. His eyes narrowed.
“Stellarfallen.”
As ruler of the Thrace Kingdom, he knew of these undead entities—those who had risen from the dead years ago across the continent. The Thrace army had recruited some.
But compared to the sheer number and strength of the Empire’s Stellarfallen, his own forces were pitiful.
Now, the players who had allied with Thrace cowered in the crowd, their ancient rifles trembling in their hands.
A warrior player, nicknamed 【Royal Knight Commander】, stared in disbelief. His voice cracked with despair:
“How could this happen? Where’s the promise of the Three Great Kingdoms? Where’s the Sun God’s favor? Thrace, wake up! Where’s His Majesty Wilhelm? Why isn’t he saving us?!”
His voice broke into a sob.
No wonder veteran players always advised newcomers to spawn in the Empire.
He had worked months to rise to a minor officer in Thrace—now, he’d be starting from zero as a prisoner in the Ashen Empire.
(End of Chapter)
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