Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 640 - 639: Reinforcements

The platinum scepter lightly touched the Pope, and a sky-reaching Holy Light suddenly descended. For a moment, Saint Ivan III’s aged body became upright and powerful, as if he had mysteriously regained his former peak. But his resistance lasted less than a second—the Holy Light descending from the sky did not shelter him, nor did the surrounding floating Holy Light. All the sacred light seemed to turn into deadly flames, beginning to consume Saint Ivan III’s body. Within the brilliant flame, he gaped angrily at Veronica: "Why..."

"In essence, the Holy Light is just a form of energy," Veronica calmly watched as Saint Ivan III’s body gradually dissipated in the brilliant flame, her expression still gentle and serene, yet her tone cold as machinery, "If your way of harnessing energy is too outdated, your devotion means nothing."

Saint Ivan III’s body disintegrated, ultimately leaving only a sentence filled with resentment echoing with endless obsession in the Great Hall of Radiance: "Deceiver... you will be... destroyed by the Lord..."

The brilliant flames gradually subsided, and the Great Hall of Radiance returned to its previous state. The sea of Holy Light continued to surge with prayers, while the bishops kept their heads lowered in prayer, as if they had seen nothing. Veronica grasped the platinum scepter, and the focus of the Divine Descent had shifted from Saint Ivan III to her. Under the gaze of some will of the God of Holy Light, her body began to split apart.

"Destruction... perhaps," Veronica said softly, holding the platinum scepter, step by step approaching the Pope’s throne. As her body continued to crack open, revealing luminous fissures, she slowly sat down, "But it’s alright, ’we’ are many..."

In the next moment, her head hung heavily, and her entire being slumped like a porcelain doll about to shatter upon the broad chair, and life completely left this body.

But only in an instant, she raised her head again, the cracks all over her body beginning to heal at an alarming speed, and a stiff mechanical voice emerged from her lips: "Reactivating this interface... re-downloading personality data..."

Moments later, fully restored, Veronica quietly sat on the throne, clutching the platinum scepter tightly. The bishops who were praying devoutly collapsed one after another in her sight, becoming fuel for the torches of Holy Light, while her gaze seemed to pierce through the entire cathedral, the entire city, landing on the distant city wall.

The cathedral bells tolled long, the brilliance vast. The divine power from the Great Hall of Radiance, after a brief undetectable fluctuation, stabilized again, a fluctuation masked entirely by the overwhelming Holy Light shrouding the entire cathedral, unnoticed by anyone the events occurring within this royal temple...

The night of the fifth day was lit by the radiance of the Divine Descent. As the giant sun rose, spreading splendid dawn over the ancient royal city, this glorious city still stood on the land.

This was the morning of the sixth day.

With the collapse of the Great Shield, all mage towers were severely damaged, barely operational for half a day before they finally ceased functioning entirely, announcing the collapse of St. Soniel’s magic defense at the arrival of the sixth day.

Led by several palace mages, all remaining mages capable of fighting stood on the city wall, prepared to launch one final magic strike against the creatures, nearly to the point of mutual destruction.

Wales Moen watched those figures clad in magic robes as if witnessing hundreds of years of kingdom’s accumulation marching towards destruction.

Transcendents are the foundation of a kingdom, and mages, among these transcendents, are even less expendable than knights—because in most cases, mages are not just adept at battle but also hold countless inherited knowledge. Excellent scholars are not necessarily excellent mages, but all mages are undoubtedly excellent scholars. These scholars... were meant to explore knowledge in relatively safe environments, using wisdom to propel the kingdom forward.

Having absorbed much intelligence regarding the Cecil Principality, Wales affirmed this notion even more.

But now, St. Soniel’s defenses had nearly collapsed, forcing these mages, who held vast knowledge and wisdom, to stand on the city wall, to become sacrificial shields, to serve as expendable weapons, dying cheaply and swiftly here...

In previous battles, the Great Shield could at least fend off most enemy attacks. Even as defending troops sustained continuous casualties, most mages could rely on the Great Shield for self-preservation. But now, with the Great Shield gone, once the effects of the Divine Descent ended, the fragile mages would likely suffer heavy casualties immediately.

In the Inner City District behind, the radiant giant, brought into this world by the Divine Descent, had begun to dim, and the monolith barriers surrounding the royal capital showed signs of illusionary wavering, indicating one thing: The power of the Divine Arts was about to end.

Baldwin Franklin’s voice came from behind Wales: "Your Majesty, we’ve collected enough oil in the entire city, enough to support battle for more than two days."

Wales turned his head, seeing the Duke of the West already devoid of his usual pristine appearance, with his magic robe damaged in many places, traces of smoke and dirt evident all over him, fatigue etched deeply in his face.

Yet despite this, the Duke still maintained a poised elegance, his demeanor carrying a sense of authority, as if these qualities were deeply rooted in his very blood.

The new King exhaled softly: "Good, with the oil, we can at least repel one or two waves of attacks..."

Those creatures feared fire, intelligence paid for with the lives of soldiers on several southern front lines. Under normal circumstances, large-scale battlefield flames rely on mages to create—but what if there are no mages or their power is insufficient to maintain the entire defensive line’s fire?

Soak stones in oil using ropes, ignite them to replace magically ignited stone balls, pour oil down the city wall, and it can likewise ignite a fierce wall of fire as intense as the burning lands below. In the absence of magic support, there are still alternative methods.

"Where is the Cecil Legion now?"

"The last message received was last night. They’ve already crossed the river of the Valley Corridor and are hurrying this way."

As the reinforcements drew nearer, the communication spells could establish more stable connections. Baldwin Franklin began receiving clear information sent by Victoria, and the stable communication significantly bolstered the morale of all defending troops, one of the reasons the defense has held to this day.

Wales pondered briefly, raising his head to look at the mages on the wall.

"Have the mages pulled back," the new King said concisely.

"Your Majesty?"

"We can’t let the kingdom’s finest scholars all perish here," Wales quickly said. "Without the protection of the Great Shield, in such direct group combat, these overly fatigued mages can do little. Their survival is of more value than dying here. The northwest corner gate should still be open, right?"

"It is."

Countless Crystal Cluster Monsters surrounded St. Soniel, but the city was not entirely besieged. The city gate in the northwest direction still allowed passage, with limited reinforcements from the West Frontier Corps entering the city through that gate.

"Prepare to evacuate the scholars, including these mages," Wales’s tone brooked no disagreement, "Send them out through the northwest corner."

"Your Majesty," Baldwin couldn’t help but speak, "I’m afraid this might cause instability..."

"As long as I haven’t retreated, the defense line will not falter," Wales interrupted the Duke of the West, "Moreover, I don’t want these Mages to flee—I want them to survive this battle. This city will hold, the armored warriors will defend it, but after defending it, we still need those who wield pens to rebuild it."

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

The Duke of the West left to execute the King’s orders, while Wales’ attention returned to the vicinity of the city walls, focusing on those Holy Light Barriers that could extinguish at any moment.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before his gaze was suddenly drawn toward the sky.

A few small black dots had appeared among the distant clouds at some point, rapidly approaching St. Soniel under the bright and increasingly radiant morning sun.

A few minutes later, as those dots began to descend in altitude, Wales could finally vaguely discern what they were with the aid of his Transcendent vision—

A few gryphons escorting a giant eagle.

Wales widened his eyes and watched them, observing their almost suicidal dive towards the royal capital, and as their flight altitude continued to drop, the Crystal Cluster Legion gathered on the plain finally reacted—despite being in a frenzied state, those monsters instinctively launched attacks against the uninvited guests intruding into their "airspace," arcs of electricity surged from the ground to the sky, weaving into a giant dazzling net, while at the edge of this net, the giant eagle and gryphons danced over the clouds, over the walls of St. Soniel.

They dropped some objects from high above.

Those objects unfolded in mid-air, expanding, fluttering in the wind with distinct colors, and Wales quickly saw what those drifting, fabric-like items were—

The banners of Cecil.

The King slowly widened his eyes, then suddenly began to laugh.

The founding hero arrived a day earlier than promised.

As numerous Cecil banners unfurled high in the air and fluttered down with the wind, the reverberating bell sound of the Cathedral of the Holy Light in the Inner City District gradually weakened.

The effect of the Divine Arts ended.

The radiant giant floating above the city shattered with a thud, dispersing into countless scattered beams of Holy Light into the air, as the Holy Light Barrier protecting the royal capital fractured inch by inch, quickly disappearing.

The Crystal Cluster monsters across the entire plain became restless.

The Cecil banners drifted in the wind, and in the suddenly heightened morale, Wales pointed his longsword towards the sky:

"For Anzu!!"

St. Soniel, the cheers shook the clouds.

By the Gorgon River, the cannon fire roared.

Three inland warships lined up along the riverbank, other gunboats and small gunships positioned across the river, various close-range defense guns and light main cannons aimed at the eastern riverbank, the magic power flashes were continuous, and the entire shore was ablaze with cannon fire.

On the bridge of the Pioneer, Byron’s loud voice was nearly as loud as the cannon fire outside:

"Suppress the fire, suppress the fire, clear the landing zone quickly!"

"Follow-up cargo ships, keep up, all keep up!"

"Quick, quick, quick, deploy the ramps, deploy the ramps! Let the ground forces off!"

Under the cover of the gunships, the Crystal Cluster monsters entrenched in the entire eastern riverbank were quickly cleared, and armored cargo ships approached the suitable landing beaches one after another, their ramps made of sturdy steel frames and heavy steel plates extended onto the riverbank by mechanical devices, tanks and multi-functional war vehicles already prepared drove onto the ground one after another, quickly establishing a progressive defense line on land.

And as the tank cannons roared, the ground combat units rushed onto the riverbank.

On the bridge of the Pioneer, Gawain looked at the Magic Web Terminal in front of him, displaying Sonia’s image: "...Just flew over St. Soniel...the signal has been dropped...they’re still holding..."

Gawain turned to Byron, who had finally quieted down: "Can this position hit St. Soniel?"

"It’s beyond theoretical range—but we can try a shot," Byron’s loud voice resounded again, "If precision isn’t guaranteed, when the angle’s right, I can fire a shell into the plains south of St. Soniel, but where it’ll land specifically, no one knows, it definitely won’t hit the royal capital anyway."

"Fire the shot," Gawain nodded slightly, "Tell those monsters we’ve arrived."

"Did you hear that, lads!" Byron’s face was flushed, waving his arms and turning to his crew, "Overload the main cannon, fire the hell out of that X!!"