Chapter 657 — God Hunt

With almost no delay, on the transmitted surveillance image, through the Brave Ones' viewpoint, he saw that beam as well.

The deafening roar of artillery rose. Heavy fortress guns mounted in mountain emplacements began shelling one after another once the calibration beam fired, and countless shells of every size and beams brimming with immense energy crossed the vast distance to strike the enemy still beyond sight. The continuous thunder of the guns was louder and denser than on any day since the line had been established; had the tactical car not promptly raised its soundproofing barrier, Ma Qi doubted he would even be able to hear his own voice amid the roar.

The adjutant's voice came from beside him: "General! All units have begun the attack per the prearranged orders, and the Brave Ones squad has entered the covering zone."

"Keep up the attack, draw the target's attention," Ma Qi ordered loudly. "'Hound' squadron, move to rendezvous with the Brave Ones, then withdraw into the eastern marches per plan."

"Full firepower along the line for ten minutes, then all units withdraw according to the timetable."

"Charge the Iron Throne's power spine, release the chassis restraint hooks."

Orders were issued one after another, and around him came a constant stream of responses from his subordinates and the tense, busy cadence of commands from every other post, yet in this moment Ma Qi's mood instead grew calm.

The soldiers here were excellent soldiers, the commanders excellent commanders. As Cecil's most powerful and most advanced ground war machine, the Iron Throne enjoyed its distinction, and every member of its crew was an elite drawn from the various forces—veterans who had lived through the Defense of Cecil, the Southern Unification War, and the Battle of Bedrock Fortress. Those veterans, combined with a sufficiently powerful war machine, meant that in Ma Qi's hands lay the finest cards this nation could play.

He could ask for nothing more.

Along the defense line, units began to act on their orders—those meant to hold, held; those meant to withdraw, withdrew—while Ma Qi and his crew waited quietly in the Iron Throne's control center, until at last the next stage arrived.

"Target entering visual range!" a soldier reported loudly.

That monster steeped in contradiction and strangeness appeared. Amid a great cloud of dust rising from the distant plain, the flesh-composite monster emerged in radiance, racing at full tilt toward the defense line.

It was covered in wounds, its flesh crumbling away—how much of that was native to its deformed body and how much came from the shells and beams the line had fired, no one could say. It seemed to have taken considerable damage already, but judging by its distance and speed, this line would likely struggle to stop it.

Ma Qi could not help but sigh: with more orbital cannons and beam cannons, they might perhaps stop this monster—but he also knew that was unrealistic. Those colossal weapons could not be produced overnight, and even if they were, there would not be enough skilled technical soldiers capable of operating them.

The artificial god noticed the obstacle barring its path, and it noticed too that the source of its unending pain was the "flying insects" launched from that very obstacle. It burned with instinctive rage, and it ran in that rage, looking as though it would soon break through the Cecil defenses.

But defensive warfare was not limited to "holding the line."

The target entered the marked zone. The railgun batteries nestled in the mountain walls gradually fell silent, the four beam cannons likewise ceased fire at the same moment, and the magic nets at every position were shut down entirely—yet at the heart of the whole defense line, a war machine that had lain dormant for a long while roared to life.

Several cannon reports rang out, and the arsenal cars at the front and rear of the Iron Throne bared their fangs. The great railguns thundered deafeningly, and as the heavy guns spoke, the several magic-energy crystals mounted atop the train's roof blazed alight in the same instant, a violent surge of magical force flooding the battlefield in a heartbeat.

To a monster lost in frenzy, one that took vitality and magic as its prey, the lure was simply irresistible.

"Arsenal cars, fire—first volley hit!"

"Onboard magic-energy obelisks activated!"

"The target is moving again!"

Ma Qi drew a deep breath, raised his arm, and brought it down hard:

"Iron Throne, launch!"

A shrill train whistle rang out between the mountains and the plains; the clatter and grind of machinery filled the air as the armored train, clad in black armor and heavy shields, started forward. Its high-performance repulsion propulsion and low-friction undercarriage made the ponderous steel monster far more agile and swift than it appeared. Even as the enraged "god" began to turn and give chase, the train had already pulled away from the platform along the rails, burst out of the defense line, and hurtled toward the White Sand Hills, gathering speed all the way.

And behind the Iron Throne, on the plains west of the charging rail, was the artificial god, now running full tilt in its fury.

Behind the "god," that trail mingled of life and death, of scorch marks and flowering vines, bent in a striking curve before the Sorin Fortress defense line, then veered south and stretched away into the distance.