Chapter 984 — Critical Balance

The defenders in Winterwolf Fortress's castle district have surrendered?!

When the news reached him, Philip shot up from his chair, his eyes wide.

"Yes, General," said a ground-force commander standing before the nearby aether-network terminal, his face streaked with smoke and dust. Behind him in the holographic projection lay a vast expanse of ruins still spewing smoke and fire, with soldiers bustling through them, and in the distance, under temporary floodlights, disarmed Typhon troops could be seen being marched away. "Their supreme commander has abandoned resistance. The castle district's shield has now been shut down from the inside. We are taking control of the castle's various sectors."

Philip frowned. Just as he had been unable to fathom a few days ago why the Typhons had suddenly gone to war, so now he could not fathom why they would choose to surrender—it ran entirely counter to the intelligence predictions regarding the current supreme commander of Winterwolf Fortress, and equally counter to the disposition of a War God gone out of control, one that sought "the bloodiest possible war, ever expanding in scale."

"With the castle's formidable fortifications, they could have held out for a while longer—could even have hoped to last until reinforcements arrived and extricated themselves," a staff officer said, perplexed. "Only the outer city has been breached, the inner castle is virtually intact... and the Typhons simply surrendered? General, what do you make of this..."

"Typhon's 'Wolf General' has never surrendered before, to say nothing of the fact that this generation's Wolf General seems to be a hardliner thoroughly hostile to us. Frankly, I don't believe they would surrender so easily either," Philip shook his head. "But they have shut down the castle's shield, and with our ground forces progressively taking over the whole of Winterwolf Fortress, I truly cannot conceive of any scheme they might have left to turn the tables... In theory, if they truly meant to keep resisting, any plan would be better than surrender."

The staff officer asked curiously, "General, you mean..."

Philip raised his head and looked toward the aether-network terminal: "Have you made contact with their supreme commander?"

"Yes, General," the commander on the other end of the comms channel nodded at once. "We've made contact with her—but she says she 'wants to speak with someone of equal standing.' I believe she wishes to speak with you directly."

Philip pondered briefly, then nodded. "I understand. I'll be there shortly. Continue with the takeover and sweep operations, establish a forward camp on site, and be ready at all times to respond to a Typhon counterattack or to push further east."

"Yes, General!"

...

An Luo was still lying in bed; in fact, even now moving at all remained extremely difficult for her. The buzzing noise in her ears had faded considerably, and the formidable constitution of a high-tier Transcendent was rapidly repairing the damaged parts within her. Amid her gradually recovering hearing, she could make out the clamor and bustle outside.

Her last remaining guard unit was being disarmed; the Cecilians had already taken complete control of this place.

They were right beside her.

An Luo struggled to shift her gaze. She could see Cecil soldiers in strange armor standing rigidly at various points around the room, warily "protecting" the place, while the trusted soldiers who had been tending and watching over her had been disarmed and "invited" into other rooms. In theory, she should not be seeing them again for a long while.

Not seeing them... perhaps that was for the best—the young Wolf General could not help thinking.

For she truly did not know how she ought to face the subordinates she had lived with day in and day out, whether those tainted by the War God or those who remained fully lucid... She knew her Winterwolf Knights, knew every one of them; they must all have been prepared to fight to the last breath, even ready to pit their flesh and blood against the Cecilians' war machines. Xuanyue Castle could have continued to stand, might even have held out until reinforcements from the rear arrived... But none of that could come to pass now, because their supreme commander had chosen to surrender after a single bombing run.

And the entire Winterwolf Knights, upon receiving the order, had carried it out without a word of complaint... which only deepened the inexpressible pressure An Luo felt.

As her thoughts drifted, a pain suddenly stabbed from one of her wounds, cutting her thinking short. She could not suppress a low groan, and her body shifted slightly—which only brought greater agony.

"Try not to move. The new potion is taking effect," came an unfamiliar soldier's voice from beside her, cold and hard yet tinged with a little nervousness. "Hold on a bit longer—a medical cleric is on the way."

An Luo looked toward the voice and saw a young face—a Cecil soldier, or perhaps a low-ranking officer. They were all ordinary people without mana fluctuations, and her own vision kept swimming, so she truly could not tell whether the one standing before her was a soldier or an officer.

At least these Cecilians hadn't mistreated the surrendered defenders... that was something, at any rate.

Just as An Luo was thinking this, she heard the sound of military boots striking the floor suddenly coming from the direction of the door, and at the same time the young man's voice sounded by her ear: "Ah, the cleric is here—"

A medical cleric? A priest?

Somewhat curious, An Luo forced her eyelids open and looked toward the sound of footsteps. Then she saw a woman who appeared quite young, dressed in what resembled a nun's habit, though here and there on the habit could be seen devices like armor plates, a metal backpack, and runic trailing chains. This oddly attired "Sister" walked toward her, carrying in her hand what looked like a rather heavy "battle staff"—and perhaps it was her imagination, but the staff seemed to be stained with blood.

Then this "Cecil Sister" arrived at An Luo's bedside. She set the heavy battle staff down on the floor with a thud and bent down toward An Luo, who saw that the woman wore some kind of gauntlet with a mechanical structure—however one looked at it, it seemed to have nothing to do with prayer or healing.

This was the cleric responsible for treating her wounds? Since when did Cecil's nuns look like this?

Doubt flickered through An Luo's mind. Although it hardly seemed the time to concern herself with such details, she could not help but cry out softly: "Wait, I'm still..."

"Don't move about," the young nun said at once, pressing a hand onto An Luo's shoulder. "Your left eye is already blind—I'd rather not accidentally ruin the other one."

An Luo fell silent, then tugged at the corner of her mouth, bitter yet somehow relieved: "...So it really is blind..."

"If you cooperate well enough, it might grow back someday—after all, Cecil's technology is the best in the world," the Sister said, sounding rather pleased, her tone carrying an air of matter-of-fact confidence.

An Luo listened to her words but only stayed silent, saying nothing more.

...

Pei Yi felt as though he had sunk into a long, strange, gloomy, and oppressive nightmare. In this nightmare he seemed to have been replaced by another person, doing terrible things in a muddled daze—yet throughout the nightmare he had always felt himself to be lucid. Some power had twisted his perception of the entire world: what he saw was no longer what he truly saw, what he did was no longer what he truly wished to do. He was like a clown puppet swaying before a flickering candle, desperately performing motions that seemed normal—yet casting a shadow on the ground so twisted and grotesque it could not be recognized.