Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 641 - 640: The Receding Crisis

A sharp, unusual whistling sound came faintly, and moments later, Wales heard a thunderous boom rising from the plains to the south.

This was a sound that had never appeared in previous battles, one that the Crystal Cluster Giants had never made.

He raised his head, looking towards the direction of the boom, but could only vaguely see a huge plume of smoke rising into the sky, and near the area where the smoke was rising, the Crystal Cluster Army seemed to be in chaos.

It was said that the magic weapons made by the Cecil Clan could launch attacks from several kilometers away, projecting powerful explosive devices to precise locations, and before the arrival of this ’Skyfire’, that sharp whistling sound was its most notable feature.

Reinforcements were entering the battlefield—but they were still far off.

All Holy Light Barriers had shattered, and glowing particles diffused through the air, scattering down upon the city walls, and along with the fall of those particles, arcs from the Crystal Cluster Legion began sweeping the now defenseless walls, knights with their armor shattered stepping forward with giant shields, filling the breaches on the city walls, while blood-soaked soldiers operated all the catapults — regardless of whether they still had magic power assisting them — initiating this final counterattack.

The light of the giant sun penetrated the clouds, casting a splendid brilliance, and the morning light pouring through the clouds gilded the ancient royal capital in a layer of golden shine. Everything — the blood-stained flags, the shattered armor, the long spears gleaming with a cold radiance, the giant catapults and ballistae, and the crystal frenzy surrounding the royal capital, all shimmered under this sunlight.

"Our reinforcements have begun their attack!!" On the city wall, a blood-drenched knight raised the flag of Anzu high, waving it fiercely and shouting, "Hold on to the last..."

A sharp crystal spike shot from the edge of the city wall, piercing through the knight’s chest, a grotesque, swollen monster continuing its climb on the wall parapet.

Wales swung his longsword, an invisible shockwave severing the creature’s body, and he caught the flag that was about to fall, raising it high: "Hold the line!!"

"Hold the line!!"

"Hold the line!!"

More and more whistling sounds came from afar, more impact clouds appearing at the southern end of the plains, but the battlefield of this siege was so vast, the endless Crystal Cluster Monsters nearly covered the entire St. Soniel Plains, making it likely that even with reinforcements arriving, it might take hours to advance to the city walls, and during this process, the mindless Crystal Cluster Legion would certainly not stop their assault.

Gawain and Byron also understood this clearly.

Armored Griffons swept through the sky, bringing the latest intelligence on the royal capital’s defensive line, and aboard the command center of the Pioneer, Byron was analyzing the frontline situation: "...The Great Shield of St. Soniel has collapsed, and the Holy Light Barrier that Sonia observed has also fallen. Now they rely on the enchanted city walls and knights and soldiers to maintain the defense. The densest area of the enemy is near the eastern barriers of the royal capital, but it lies outside the main cannon’s range of the Pioneer."

Gawain, looking at the battle map in front of him, envisioned satellite images in his mind: "Bombard an attack route between the due south of St. Soniel and the Gorgon River, letting ground troops enter from there, and subsequently set up a cannon position south of the eastern barriers; the coordination between fleet firepower and ground troops can divide those monsters. As long as we can withstand their counterattack, the battlefield will be under control."

"But those monsters’ counterattack might be very fierce... After all, they’ve lost even the most basic concept of ’stopping loss,’ and won’t stop until they’re all dead."

"That is exactly our goal — to reduce the number of Crystal Cluster Legions around St. Soniel as much as possible in a short time. Once their numerical advantage in the area is lost, their threat to the royal capital will rapidly decrease — the city walls of St. Soniel have self-repair ability, and as long as the damage they sustain is below their repair rate, they will remain safe," Gawain said steadily, "As for whether the ground troops can hold the pressure before that... you should trust the power of the armored troops. When firepower superiority is strong enough, numbers become meaningless — and I will personally command the ground troops, so no need to worry."

"...I understand. I’ll ensure fire support on this end and guarantee you a clear path."

Ten minutes later, Gawain left the bridge, ready to land.

He walked toward the deck of the Pioneer, and Amber’s figure emerged beside him: "Hey, hey, you’re really leading the charge—"

Gawain didn’t turn: "What, any problems?"

"Don’t forget how you died in your last life, the scene today looks too much like how it’s described when you died back then. Isn’t there any psychological shadow," Amber kept nagging, "Or is it false that you claimed to be haunted by this matter before..."

Gawain finally looked back at Amber and casually said, "So your main purpose in following me is to perform a grave-digging show if I die?"

"...Not really, I’m still technically your personal guard..."

"Then stop babbling and quietly follow — this kind of battlefield needs scouts as sharp and adept at survival as you."

"Oh — and make sure you don’t die, because explaining it to Aunt Heidi and Rebecca would be a pain if you do..."

"Shut up."

As the steel treads began to crush the ground, and the armored vehicles moved toward the battlefield with mechanical tremors, Gawain’s mood thoroughly calmed down.

Amber wasn’t beside him, but he could sense the presence of the half-elf wandering within a hundred-meter radius nearby—she was moving through the gaps between the real world and the shadow realm, observing the surrounding environment, checking for energy echoes left by the Crystal Cluster Giants to confirm the enemy’s possible movements.

In the sky, armored griffons and Giant Eagle Knights were scouting the entire battlefield, guiding the ground forces forward while providing firepower guidance for the fleet on the Gorgon River.

On the Gorgon River, the battleships with the Pioneer at the forefront were fine-tuning their main cannons, poised to launch the next round of artillery support.

Gawain, seated in the command vehicle, let out a slight breath.

Amber had made a mistake—how could the situation when his body perished seven hundred years ago be the same as today’s?

...

Amidst the roar of artillery fire, the ground forces advanced as planned to a highland southeast of St. Soniel. Under the superior firepower of the tank clusters, the advantage Crystal Cluster Legion had established through sheer numbers vanished, just as Gawain predicted—the Crystal Cluster Monsters launched continuous counterattacks driven by instinct, but were ultimately buried in the scorched battlefield under overwhelming shells and blazing flames, while a long-range artillery position was rapidly established to suppress the southeastern area of St. Soniel.

With artillery support extending from the Gorgon River combined with the firepower points established by the ground forces on the highlands, the Cecil Legion cut into the battlefield like a scorching military knife, tearing apart the Crystal Cluster Legion’s position and beginning to bleed this already out-of-control monstrous force.

Wales noticed the subtle change in the battlefield.

Faster than he anticipated, the Crystal Cluster Legion’s attack on the royal capital had weakened.

The soldiers fighting may not have the time to consider the overall changes in the battlefield, and the limited-duty knights could only focus on the walls they were responsible for, but Wales, who was constantly observing every aspect of the defense line, did not miss this slight change in the situation—the density of attacks from the Crystal Cluster Legion was decreasing, and in some parts of the southern walls, the enchanted walls were no longer continuously collapsing, even transitioning to a state where repairs and damages were being balanced.

The numbers of those monsters were dwindling, and their attack focus was gradually shifting.

Wales gazed toward the southern plains, yet still couldn’t see the exact location of the Cecil Legion—what he could see was only continuous dust and flashes from explosions, although those explosions weren’t too far from the walls, the attackers remained unseen.

The only certainty was that the power of those explosions was truly incredible—mountains crumbled, ground shattered, without exaggeration.

The Cecil Clan thus utilized their powerful long-range capabilities to complete the segmentation of the battlefield, and judging from the signs of battle from afar, they must have also executed very bold maneuvers and advances during this segmentation process.

Reinforcements were indeed still far off, but their force had already crossed the barriers of space, projected onto the defense line of the royal capital.

In the sky, the Cecil Clan’s armored griffons and Giant Eagles strafed past the battlefield for the third time, and the actions of those flying units were clearly closely connected to the battles on the ground.

Wales’ mind conjured up a wealth of intelligence about the southern borders—about the Mage weapons they used, about the weaponry procured by the Kingdom’s military in the southern borders, and details of the unification war in the southern borders.

Many things can’t be discerned just from intelligence, only by firsthand experience—even from a distance—to truly grasp the truth behind these intelligence reports.

Wales had spent a long time pondering everything about the southern borders, but the intelligence related to military affairs was always shrouded in mystery. He used his talent in intelligence analysis to outline part of the Legion’s profile but never completed the final summary due to a lack of critical information. At this moment, upon witnessing certain things firsthand, the fog in his mind suddenly cleared.

"...So this is their combat style... Superior long-range weaponry, concentrated attacks, rapid maneuvers, long-distance penetrations... all the while requiring coordination of vast legions and swift information transmission... It shouldn’t be communication spells, those have too high a requirement... Is it the ’Magic Web Communication’ the Grand Duke Victoria mentioned? Additionally, they must have established a more efficient command system to control the numerous units spread across the battlefield... what could it be?"

Wales stared into the distance, realizing he had too many things that were beyond his understanding. He couldn’t fathom how the Cecil Clan managed to sustain such large-scale long-distance communications, nor could he comprehend their command system’s operation or the logistics, equipment, and quality of their troops’ development. And upon discovering his inability even to imagine how this myriad of things could be organized, the new King of Anzu instead laughed.

The "factory reforms" in St. Soniel were ultimately nothing but clumsy imitations; the town management schemes trialed in the West and royal family’s direct fief only scratched the surface. Last year’s grand reform activities that lasted over half a year ended fruitlessly, resultant from both the deficiencies of the Reformists and stubborn obstruction by the Conservatives, leading to the cessation of these efforts. Yet, finally, the new era had arrived.

"Your Majesty," Baldwin Franklin the Duke spoke beside him, his voice slightly weary; the Duke of the West bore bloodshot eyes yet maintained calm and strength in his tone, "the enemy’s assault is waning. The Cecil Clan has occupied the highlands to the south of the east wall bulwark, cutting off the attacks from the Crystal Cluster Monsters."

Wales nodded slightly: "St. Soniel has survived."

"Indeed, the royal capital has survived," the Duke of the West said.

"I should prepare to welcome Duke Cecil."

Baldwin Franklin quietly watched Wales; his eyes, filled with bloodshot veins, held no doubt. He seemed to have discerned hints from the new King’s many actions these days, yet in the end, he said nothing more.