Chapter 1200 — Autumn Homecoming

The investigation into that remnant power of the End of All Things out in the wasteland had ground to a standstill, but that did not mean the great empires beyond the Magnificent Wall would halt their march to retake the wasteland — quite the opposite. It was precisely because everything inside the Wall remained unknown that the empires felt the added pressure, and all the more urgently needed to push their strength into the wasteland's interior, even if only to plant the first forward base.

And so the mortal nations' counteroffensive into the wasteland began.

In the south of the continent, the Silver Empire had already joined hands with the Highland Kingdom to raise a vast corps of Rangers, and had begun advancing northward along the border forest alongside the Guardian Great Tree, steadily compressing the contaminated zone outside the Magnificent Wall. In the north and northeast, meanwhile, Typhon and Cecil had mustered enormous manpower and material and begun laying several railways that cut straight through the contaminated zone, preparing to use these "steel arteries" as fulcrums with which to pry open the stubborn barrier of pollution that ringed the wasteland.

Grand Architect Gordon stood on the watchtower of the first curtain wall of Southgate Fortress, his gaze fixed on the distant edge of the Black Forest. Deep within it he could make out the faint, half-hidden shapes of man-made structures thrusting up between those towering, twisted trees, their metal or crystal spires glittering in the sunlight, linked one to the next like jewels set into the forest, pointing the eye onward, far off, toward the Magnificent Wall.

Those were the outposts planted in the Black Forest — the exposed spires of the outposts' mana broadcast towers and shield generators.

In years past, many had regarded the Black Forest as a dead realm where no life could survive for humankind. The nations had balked before its blockade and abandoned that frontier, deterred by the prohibitive cost, the immense risk, and the meager returns of fighting it. But two nations were the exception. One was the Typhon Empire, which had always maintained a watch zone over the western wasteland; the other was Cecil, which had always held the reconquest of the wasteland as its aim. And of the two, the Cecilites had pushed even harder in this regard than Typhon.

As far back as the Ansu era, before the Cecil Empire was ever founded, during that joint operation in which the nations repaired and reinforced the Magnificent Wall, Cecil had used heavy incinerators and armored columns to carve a road through the Black Forest, straight toward the wasteland. And after that joint operation, this "temporary passage" was not left to decay; instead it received long-term maintenance and a whole series of "augmentations." On orders from the imperial capital, the Construction Corps garrisoned at the southern foot of the Dark Mountains used the road as a foundation, continually widening the area under Southgate Fortress's control and building a chain of outposts and supply nodes along the way, its controlled zone stretching south all the way to the foot of the Sentinel Tower.

And now, at last, that long labor had come to the hour when it would matter most.

The "Sentinel Road" through the Black Forest would serve as the foundation for the advance into the wasteland; the energy stations, depots, and supply nodes set along its length would provide vital support for the engineering troops to follow. A charged railway of the highest standard yet achieved would set out from Southgate Fortress, run through the Black Forest and the belt of plains around the Sentinel Tower, and reach the very foot of the Magnificent Wall; after that, the Empire's iron bastions and legions would travel this steel artery to the lands of the ancient kingdom of Gondor, and there raise the first forward base of humanity's counteroffensive into the wasteland.

Footsteps sounded beside him. Gordon drew back his gaze from the Black Forest and turned toward the source of the sound, and saw a colleague approaching — a squat, stocky man, solid with muscle, wearing a thick black coat.

That was Bruce Stone, an outstanding craftsman who had been promoted to Grand Architect two years earlier. This master engineer, of dwarven blood, had been one of the earliest members of the "Hundred-Person Aid Corps" to come down to the southern frontier in the days when this was still the Cecil Territory. During the Magnificent Wall's restoration, the engineering team he led had shone brilliantly — a major reason for his promotion — and in the coming campaign to retake the wasteland, this technical expert, so experienced in "construction within contaminated zones," would also serve as one of the principal heads of the engineering department. A singular honor, without question.

"Hey, Gordon," Bruce raised a hand in greeting, his voice booming like thunder in the mountains, "did you see the first engineering echelon assembled in the square? Those earth-elemental resonance guide rails, the oversized lift mechanisms, and the shiny mechanical pods! I tell you, I love our new assignment — the most advanced engineering machinery in the whole Empire has been sent out here!"

"I saw it. Of course I saw it — I've been looking at it all morning," Gordon shrugged. "And we'll be looking at it a good while longer. Building a railway from here into the wasteland is no simple job."

"We already have a road, out in the Black Forest — with all those stations along the way, every bit of the preliminary surveying and logistical supply will be that much easier," Bruce said, coming up beside Gordon, his face glowing red. "I'd bet the Typhonites are falling behind us on this one. They're laying a railway out of Winterwolf Fortress into the wasteland too, but they never built this many supply stations and energy stations in the Black Forest over the past few years, and after that fight at Winterwolf they don't have that many construction mages left..."

"According to what I've heard, they've already sent twelve thousand construction mages into the Black Forest, Bruce," Gordon said, glancing at his loud-voiced colleague. "And eight thousand more are on the way."

Bruce's glowing red face stiffened at once. After standing dumbstruck in the cold wind for a moment, the dwarven-blooded architect could not help muttering: "Damn rich people... damn money power..."

"Look on the bright side. Think about the situation as it stands — the Typhonites being able to pour this much effort into it is a good thing for us," Gordon said unhurriedly. As one of the first technicians to follow Gawain Cecil, he had been involved in nearly every large-scale project in the Empire and had been briefed on many of the "grand plans" His Majesty had laid out, and by now he had naturally acquired a somewhat different eye for things. "Retaking the wasteland is not the business of one nation. Once the vanguard reaches the Magnificent Wall, the more reinforcements we have around us, the safer our soldiers and our engineers will be."

Bruce rubbed the tip of his nose. "...Hell, you actually have a point."

Gordon grinned. He looked down at the gate beneath the high wall and saw the engineering corps' vehicles already beginning to roll out, and said offhandedly, "Rather than puzzling over a headache of a 'situation' like that, I suddenly thought of a joke I keep seeing on the Cecil anonymous board of the neural network..."

Bruce rubbed his reddened nose. "What joke?"