Chapter 1368 — Thunder and Torrential Rain

Dark clouds were gathering, covering the entire sky above Fort Greta at an astonishing speed. In barely a minute, the once-clear sky had been shrouded in gloom as though night had fallen, and a wind heavy with moisture began to blow across the plains and hills. Even the sound of trees swaying from the direction of the forest seemed to carry a blurred undertone of churning water—the soldiers on the defensive line, still fighting desperately against the Aberrant assault, soon noticed this extraordinary change. Those with strength to spare glanced up and immediately saw the "smiling face" that stretched across nearly half the sky and was still growing larger.

"What the hell is that?!" A knight-captain with a hideous scar across his cheek stared in shock at the grin drifting among the clouds. However you looked at it, the thing was far too eerie, so much so that even this battle-hardened knight felt his skin crawl. "That cloud is grinning at me! And it looks like a girl's face!"

A missile's shriek cut through the air nearby. Beside the knight-captain, a combat mage responsible for his squad's suppressive fire launched a volley of arcane missiles toward the enemy's position, then glanced up as well, unconsciously rubbing his eyes hard. He mumbled as though in a delirium: "Am I dying...? I've heard that when people are near death they see the faces of those closest to them in the sky... Did my grandpa turn into a beautiful girl after he died and went to heaven?"

Before the battlemage finished speaking, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded nearby, and a knight in light armor came charging around the corner of the bunker. The young courier knight shouted at the top of his lungs: "The King's orders! Friendly fire is incoming—evacuate this area immediately! All forces retreat toward Fort Greta! The King's orders—all forces fall back to Fort Greta!"

"Retreat?!" The knight-captain grabbed the courier who was about to run past him. "Friendly fire? What friendly forces? Weren't we told there were no reinforcements?"

"I don't know! Just follow orders!" the courier said rapidly, then turned and sprinted toward the other side of the bunker works, continuing to relay King Odris's direct orders at the top of his voice as he ran.

The previous order had been to hold the line at all costs; now came the instruction for a full retreat. The knight-captain was somewhat stunned, but it did nothing to diminish his obedience—after swiftly suppressing all his doubts, this veteran captain grabbed the battlemage beside him, whose mind was clearly wandering, and his booming voice echoed along the section of the line he commanded: "Retreat!"

Across the narrow, desolate wasteland leading toward the wastes, among the layered bunkers and anti-tank spikes built to counter the Aberrants, the soldiers of the Highland Kingdom—who had fought in blood for nearly a full day and night—began a rapid withdrawal. As they retreated, they did everything they could to leave behind masses of magical traps and mana crystals teetering on the brink of dangerous overload. Meanwhile, in the temporary command post behind the line, King Odris's gaze swept repeatedly across the sky, watching the gathering clouds shift in the increasingly dense rain.

"The retreat order has been issued, Your Majesty," the commander's voice came from beside him. "The Aberrants are rapidly occupying our former positions."

"Good. We'll prepare to withdraw to the fortress as well," Odris nodded, speaking quickly. "Remember to leave some explosives behind—it's been proven that those charged Rebecca crystals can play a significant role even when they're not fired as shells."

The commander immediately acknowledged the order. Beside him, Prince Lorin could not help but ask: "Father, are we really withdrawing completely from this position? Perhaps we could leave some elite rangers to coordinate with the Cecil and Sea Siren—"

"You don't understand their way of fighting—especially the Cecil's," Odris shook his head, looking at his heir, who had only recently come of age and still lacked much experience. "The best way to coordinate with the Cecil on a battlefield is to get out of their field of fire as quickly as possible—the faster the better. If you'd seen those footage records, you'd know that the new-model magitech cannons they use are completely different from what you understand as 'long-range firepower'..."

Soon after, the temporary command post where Odris stood also began an orderly withdrawal. The banner representing the Highland Kingdom was lowered from the rapid-construction walls raised by "mud to stone" spells. Behind them, the dark clouds covering the entire battlefield had thickened to a critical point; the sky, almost indistinguishable from night, churned with moisture so dense it seemed tangible. And among those heavy clouds, a massive figure wreathed in faint luminescence suddenly flashed through the darkness.

Ashlaina in her dragon form pierced through the thick cloud layer. Her body was covered in steel-forged mechanical armor, the faint glow of navigation lights flickering on and off at the tips of her wings and tail, while the rather terrifying clouds around her seemed to part before her as though sentient, not hindering her flight or her observation of the ground in the slightest. After circling briefly twice, Ashlaina activated the Magic Web terminal at her chest.

"They've already withdrawn... Well, I'll be—someone actually managed to read the 'signal' those Sea Sirens put out. These humans' intuition is really something else. Byron, prepare for fire coverage—those monsters have entered the target zone. Listen for my coordinates—"

Moments later, a piercing shriek tore through the heavy canopy of sky. From the distant direction of the Holy Aldo River, several "streaks" of pale cyan light shot into the air, carving arc-shaped trajectories that seemed intent on slicing the sky apart as they flew straight toward the vast wasteland northwest of Fort Greta. From the direction of the fortress, one could see a series of flashes suddenly erupt within the dark clouds covering the sky—like thunder threading through the clouds, like sparks falling from the heavens. After a brief delay, the piercing shrieks from the sky transformed into terrifying explosions rising from the earth.

On the ground, the Aberrants—who had just "broken through" humanity's final defensive line and were flooding like a tide into the positions the Highland Kingdom's soldiers had held—were instantly engulfed by successive explosions and lethal shockwaves. The commanders behind these monsters barely had time to feel any joy at breaching the line before they received signal feedback of massive casualties among their frontline forces.

On the towering walls of Fort Greta, King Odris—who had just retreated to safety—had not yet had time to remove his cloak or wipe the rain from his hair when he heard the earth-shaking roar from the northwest. Those dreadful booms, like muffled thunder and bursting shells, rolled between heaven and earth. Even at such a distance, they still shook this ancient and glorious bastion; windows protected by steel frames trembled faintly, and shelves and weapon racks creaked with unsettling friction. Prince Lorin ran to the observation platform. The enormous mushroom clouds rising from the distant earth and the bright arcs continuously streaking through the clouds left this young man—who had only recently set foot on a battlefield and had little understanding of "contemporary art"—staring in utter stupefaction.

He even trembled slightly before this power that resembled a natural disaster—not from fear, but from pure shock.