Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 618 - 617: The Front and the Rear

In the Ronsburg Base, Gawain met the batch of Anzu Kingdom’s military soldiers saved by Soldrin.

Leading these soldiers was a medium-built northern man with short brown hair and a high nose. He had changed out of his original tattered armor and into comfortable clothes provided by the base. Although there was still a hint of fatigue on his face, his mental state had evidently improved a lot.

When Gawain entered the slightly simple barracks, the knight who narrowly escaped death immediately stood up. With a few soldiers beside him, who looked slightly bewildered, he bowed in a slightly nervous and frantic manner: ”My lord, I am Balna Mitchell from the royal capital. My soldiers and I are very grateful for your generous protection...”

”Please be seated, Mr. Mitchell, I have some questions I’d like to ask you,” Gawain motioned for the knight in front of him to sit down, then casually sat on the chair beside him, ”First, let me introduce myself—you should have guessed, I am Gawain Cecil.”

This was the legendary knight, who just a few years ago appeared only in legendary stories and historians’ books, and who now has returned from the land of the dead, reclaiming the rule as the southern borders’ leader.

The aristocrats of the capital have diverse descriptions and speculations about this southern border ruler. Most choose to keep their distance, some see him as a threat, and a very few carry malicious conspiracy theories. Yet, almost everyone agrees on one point: this legendary pioneer is out of place in this era—he carries the pride of the Gondor people, the ruggedness of a pioneer, the barbarism of the original nobility, and the irrationality of The Resurrected. This is all the impression Balna Mitchell had established about Gawain Cecil in his social circle in the royal capital.

Mitchell briefly scrutinized the legendary duke before him with the most respectful look, lowering his gaze when it was about to cross the line, adopting a posture of awaiting instructions.

The pioneer hero before him wasn’t dressed in anachronistic peculiar clothing, nor did he emanate an unsettling aura. He was as the most orthodox historical records described: tall, dignified, clad in armor, as if eternally on the battlefield, with sharp but not cold eyes.

”Are you getting used to living here?”

This first question slightly surprised Mitchell. He paused for a brief moment, then quickly answered, ”Yes, thank you for providing such a comfortable environment...”

With clean hot water, tidy rooms, clothes, food, and precious medicine—and most importantly, safety—a person who has narrowly escaped from a desperate situation could not possibly express any dissatisfaction with such an environment.

”Very well,” Gawain nodded slightly, ”I want to understand the specifics of the ’Crystal Cluster Infection’ and the final breakout route of the northern legions...”

...

A temporary camp set outside Pompeii City.

Barbed wires and multi-barrel turrets intertwined, fully armed soldiers vigilantly guarded from sentry posts. Within and beyond the camp, discreet and overt magic monitoring and warning devices buzzed. Despite the small size of the camp, its astounding level of protection made it seem like an armed-to-the-teeth fortress.

Such stringent security measures have a singular reason: this is the location for researching divine evils Pollution.

Deep within the camp, in a spacious and bright laboratory, Kamel floated several centimeters above the ground. Before him, on a platform, a cage made of barrier generators and solid steel bars was securely embedded in the reinforced concrete base; inside the cage was the mission core of this laboratory—

An already utterly mutated Crystal Cluster Giant, which had lost all human cognition.

The towering three-meter humanoid stood quietly behind the sturdy barrier composed of energy shields and tangible grates, not at all volatile like the ”monsters” in common perceptions. In fact, quite the opposite: its eyes were calm and rational, even transcendent, as it focused intently on the great mage outside the barrier, without speaking a word.

”I heard from Pittman that you refuse to communicate with ’the frail humans of the old era,’” Kamel floated a bit closer, buzzing as he spoke, ”so I have come—I am curious if, within your perception, my form is considered outdated.”

The Crystal Cluster Giant offered no response.

”It appears you still refuse to communicate—do you anticipate rescue? Here, far from the front lines, you are far from your monstrous kin...” Kamel continued, ”I know you possess rationality, you can still think, though equipped with an entirely new worldview. Perhaps, to you, the Crystal Cluster Infection is the normal life form, while uninfected humans are a sort of mutation... But what I am curious about is, after undergoing this transformation, do you still remember your human thoughts, remember your human emotions...”

After another round of silence, the giant finally spoke, its voice carrying a certain low tremor: ”When the new era arrives, you will realize the flaws of purely flesh and blood—extinction will come naturally, and we are helping... you.”

The giant seemed slightly hesitant at the last word, uncertain if the floating luminous spiritual body in front of it should be included in ”you.”

Regardless of perspective, Kamel appeared to have no human organs left for mutation...

Kamel was indifferent to the alarming aspects of the opponent’s words; he only used two shining arcane lights to watch the mutant before him, his voice low: ”Your so-called new era—is the chaotic wave, correct?”

The Crystal Cluster Giant remained silent.

”To my knowledge, individuals like you with special powers and complete intelligence belong to the ’commanders’ among the Crystal Cluster Giants, and your residual druidic dark spells indicate that you originally should have been a priest of the Church of Oblivion—or a martyr.”

”...”

”Which echelon did you belong to in the Oblivion Association? Archbishop? Or the lower withered priest? Or the Shepherd of the Forest?”

”...”

”Where did you obtain the data on the chaotic wave?” ”What makes you certain this form transformation will allow surviving the chaotic wave?” ”Have you heard of ’divine evils’?” ”Do you understand its meaning?” ”Where did you get this transformation technology?”

Kamel’s questions came one after another, yet the Crystal Cluster Giant remained silent throughout. Finally, in a silence more unbearable than before, Kamel suddenly said, ”You know, the Gondor Empire trod this path years ago—I was part of that plan. I saw firsthand its failure, and your self-proclaimed evolutionary form is just our earliest discarded failed scheme...”

He originally thought such words would somehow affect the prisoner before him, but the Crystal Cluster Giant merely looked over calmly, and after a moment, it finally said:

”I heard that a fortress from the time of the Gondor Empire has been excavated in the southern borders...

”Your existence does not surprise me at all.

”But you got one thing wrong, ancient Master Mage, your failure was not due to technical factors or because the route was flawed.

”Your failure was because your defiance was not thorough enough...”

After saying this, the Crystal Cluster Giant stepped back two steps, returned to the middle of the cage, and sat down, refusing to engage in any further conversation.

Kamel found his efforts fruitless and eventually left the laboratory in dismay.

Outside the laboratory, Pittman, clad in a gray robe, along with several researchers, had been waiting for a long time.

”It spoke a few words to me, but it revealed almost no useful information,” Kamel sighed and said to Pittman. ”Just as you predicted earlier, most of these ’command-level’ Crystal Cluster Giants are transformed from loyal martyrs of the Oblivion Association, who maintain control over the Crystal Cluster Legion through this method, and the mouths of such fanatics are almost impossible to pry open.”

”As the Crystal Cluster Legion expands, they will eventually select new commanders from the Transcendents willing to undergo transformation, and those commanders’ mouths should be easier to open. We need not rush,” Pittman said, then seemed to notice something unusual about Kamel’s demeanor. ”What else did it say to you? You don’t look so well...”

Kamel was astonished: ”You can tell from my expression?”

”Not from expression, but the color is pretty obvious; you’re quite green now...”

”...It’s nothing major, just that the last thing it said made me a bit concerned,” Kamel shook his head. ”It turns out the Oblivion Association did indeed acquire part of the legacy of the so-called ’Rebellion’ plan from back then. In continuing to advance this plan, they created divine evils, but that Crystal Cluster Giant said they did something even more ’defiant’... I don’t understand what this means.”

”More ’defiant’ than that?” Pittman raised an eyebrow, although he too was once part of the Oblivion Association, it was clear he knew nothing of the Oblivion Association’s divine evils plan. ”Back in the day, you guys dug up the grave of the God of Nature, stripped its flesh, and refined its Divine Blood and Flesh into medicine for everyone in the nation. What could be more defiant than that? Even if they created a fake god, I don’t see how that could be more defiant than you guys...”

”So I can’t understand it,” Kamel buzzed, then shook his head, ”What about your side? How did your experiment go?”

”After isolating Crystal Cluster Infectors transformed from ordinary people and ’commanders,’ all test subjects exhibited significant signs of weakening and activity stoppage, and their only remaining mental capacity is rapidly fading, indicating that the mental activity of lower-tier Crystal Cluster Infectors must rely on ’commanders’ to sustain...” Pittman spread his hands and sighed. ”In short, they’re beyond saving—from the body to the mind, the mutation is irreversible. However, individuals who haven’t mutated, merely carrying the infection, might still be saved. The latest batch of infectors sent over is currently stable, and conventional methods for treating plagues and curses seem effective on them. I’m working on finding the most efficient purification method, as well as identifying the key triggers that lead them from ’carriers’ to ’mutants’.”

...

In Cecil Castle, a spring rain has cleaned the densely-packed rooftops and the crisscrossing streets; even as the daylight fades, the city remains as bustling as it is in the daytime.

A graceful snake tail climbs up the tallest magic web broadcast tower in the city, winding around the amplifying antenna at its top. Tiel’s body clings to the steel-crafted magic mechanism, leaning out to survey the distant urban area, glancing over the lit factories operating day and night.

War is spreading in the distant north; although the land of the Cecil Principality remains safe, the war’s impact will still seep into every aspect of people’s lives. People began discussing the war in taverns and cafes, while newspapers increasingly feature northern news and opinion pieces, and the factories have entered a so-called ”wartime state,” operating with unprecedented efficiency.

Countless war machines line up to leave the workshops, with gears and bearings not cooled yet, roaring as they head to the front lines; fresh graduates from the academies, full of vigor, march to their respective posts and life paths. Despite not facing the war directly, the internal commerce of the principality has not only remained unaffected but has become more prosperous than ever. This city, driven by the power of magical industry, is so vibrant and likable that even the leisurely Tiel can’t help but be moved to thoughts of nostalgia for her sea demon homeland—

Tiel does not know what the home planet of the sea demons looks like. She was a new generation born after the Antawen Vessel crash-landed on this world. The sea demons Empire has declined since the ’Great Crash,’ no longer as glorious as it once was. However, on the teaching machines, in the fragmented data stored on memory chips, when ancient sea demons recount their distant and vague memories, Tiel has heard more than once descriptions of their home—

A world teeming with life, the ocean covering the entire planet. In the deep and gentle seawater, the sea demons’ world prospered, machines operating day and night, AI-controlled cities shone brightly on the seabed, underwater trains raced through trenches and along ridges, aircraft rushed from the deep-sea to surface altitude, satellite clusters and orbital facilities encircled the planet, overlooking the beautiful aquatic world...

Perhaps the sea demons can never return.

But Tiel’s gaze sweeps over Cecil—these land-dwelling beings, they have their homeland, and they are passionately building this place.

Maybe someday, they’ll make this place as beautiful as that ’beautiful aquatic world.’

The wandering sea demon gently drew a breath, opened her mouth, and began to sing softly.

A formless power was infused into the ethereal song, vibrating the surrounding magic power, shaking the broadcast tower’s amplifying antenna, and resonating through Cecil’s magic web—then through countless relay towers between Cecil-Black Forest-great walls, vibrating the sentinel towers, vibrating the great walls.

The song rode the space ripples, crossing endless storms and oceans.

In the eastern Endless Sea, the sea demons city ”Antawen,” now bathed in starlight, a night watch Listener was surprised as a strange frequency suddenly popped up on the communicator.

Moments later, a Deep Sea Handmaiden swayed her tail, swimming into Queen Petia’s sleeping chamber—

”Your Majesty! The missing Tide Master has been found; she navigated the wrong way during the return journey and is now on the western continent!

”She has found human allies there!

”She asks if you’d like some cookies?”