Chapter 1376: Chapter 1375: May the Mortal World Welcome the Dawn

When the glorious giant sun fully ascended to the highest point in the sky, its softly grained and radiant coronet sprinkled endless light upon Ruby City, bathing the entire city in warmth and brightness. At this moment, the cold winter had already ended, and Revival Month was bringing the earliest vitality to this land. From the towering walls of Ruby City to the borders of the burned Ruby Forest Land, warriors from various Augari tribes were gathered in camps, waiting for new orders on this warm day—the mountain barrier had been rebuilt, enemies pushed back to the wasteland, countless destroyed cities awaiting recovery and rebuilding, and the anxious people began to look forward to a new life. However, for those at the front lines, even though winter had ended, the war was far from over.

Camilla and Venna walked side by side on the edge of the stationed area outside the city, passing through the human soldiers’ camp and preparing to visit the elves’ quarters at the Ruby Forest site. When a warm breeze blew from the direction of the mountains, the fur at the tips of Camilla’s ears felt this comforting airflow. The beastmen Chieftain couldn’t help but squint, her sharp ears trembling twice in the air: "Spring has arrived..."

"Yes, I almost thought spring wouldn’t come—previously, it was the toughest winter I’ve ever experienced in my life." Venna took off her hood, letting her gray-white long hair scatter freely in the wind. Her gaze turned towards the camp nearby, where human soldiers were seen preparing between neatly arranged tents and cabins, soldiers reassembled by Wickcliff from the Western Region.

The soldiers quietly organized their equipment or silently marched between the camp buildings. Weapons and equipment transported via the continental route and international railway were already distributed to these frontline warriors. Traditional swords were replaced with Cecil-pattern Melting Swords, crossbows, and Magic Wands with I-Type Scorching-Ray Guns and Mage’s magic transmission terminals equipped with high-capacity energy-storage devices. Soldiers from every tribe were efficiently learning and familiarizing themselves with these weapons, while among tribal armies, these human soldiers’ progress was simply astonishing.

Some soldiers patrolling at the edge of the camp noticed the two tribal leaders passing from outside the camp, paused to salute Venna and Camilla, and then quickly returned to their patrol routes.

"...Did you feel it? There’s a fire burning in their chests," Camilla’s voice came from beside. The beastmen Chieftain gazed deeply toward the human camp, her ears slightly extending backward in a gesture traditionally seen as a salute to warriors among beastmen, "Everybody here is as resolute as Highland Braves, always ready for a life-and-death struggle against the invading enemies."

"After Falm Fortress fell, humanity lost two cities and countless villages. Tens of thousands couldn’t escape that Purgatory, including many relatives and friends, even their King who lost an arm due to it. As much as Wickcliff appears to handle it well, when he returned from the rear with a mechanical arm to regroup the troops, people’s rage ignited instantly—even Wickcliff himself probably didn’t foresee this," Venna shook her head, "Now, Augari tribes, humans harbor genuine animosity towards those monsters. That’s why Duke Baldwin chose to make Wickcliff’s troops the first to join the Cecil expeditionary army into the wasteland—they can withstand the greatest pressure and are prepared for it."

"But they’re also at risk of self-destruction," Camilla said solemnly, "How to prevent self-destruction under immense anger and a drive to kill—it’s a challenge even Highland Braves must face."

"It’s up to Wickcliff’s skills then; I believe he can manage his troops," Venna smiled slightly, "Besides, isn’t your Mountain Legion soon heading into the wasteland? Don’t forget to keep an eye out for our old friend."

"No need to remind me, I’m quite professional in warfare." Camilla laughed, her sharp canine teeth glinting coldly at the corner of her mouth.

Venna’s gaze shifted away from the camp nearby and looked in another direction—on her right hand lay a vast and desolate land, winter’s snow had completely melted away, the ugly scars of war emblazoned distinctly and strikingly on the earth, countless charred remnants and thick ashes covered everything she could see, once sky-high ancient trees and stone pillars engraved with the names of the ancestors crumbled onto this scorched land, buried beneath ashes and dust.

Along with the burned and buried Ruby Forest Sea were the old Forest Guardians, a segment of beastmen history, and her childhood memories of hunting and gathering here with Camilla.

"I heard this place’s name hasn’t changed," Venna said instinctively, "Your shamans discussed whether to rename this forest sea since the once lush Ruby Forest had been consumed by fire, leaving only scorched land behind, but you rejected all such proposals and ultimately ordered to keep Ruby Forest Sea as the name..."

"The Resurrection Tree growing on the Ancestral Peak will grow even more robust after a fire. Duke Baldwin told me that people living on the Plains of the Holy Spirits believe that ’greenshoes will sprout more lushly on burnt land,’ and the Ruby Forest Sea began as a small grove, transformed by our ancestors into a ’forest sea,’" Camilla’s expression remained calm, "One day, this place will return to its lush former state, so... the Ruby Forest Sea remains the Ruby Forest Sea."

Venna blinked, and at that moment, a deep buzzing sound suddenly echoed from the heights, interrupting her conversation with Camilla—the buzzing transformed from weak to strong, few to many, gradually converging into a sound wave reverberating between heaven and earth, like a cloud beast roaring in the sky. This solemn and deep sound instinctively drew the attention of the two tribe leaders upwards, seeing the majestic figures of Dawn of the mortal world and the twelve Gorgon Flying Fortresses in their line of sight.

For most of the past winter, these awe-inspiring engineering wonders, akin to airborne cities, floated above Ruby City, symbolizing the alliance’s greatest and most advanced strength, bringing endless confidence and fighting will to the land devastated by war. Now, the massive rune matrix surrounding those sky fortresses lit up one by one, folding arrays reaching toward the sky, releasing luminous bursts like flames, magic particles surged from release grids between armor bands, enveloping the fortress’ massive bodies like mist, then this magnificent array of fortresses began gradually moving towards the eastern sky—under the glorious giant sun, their released layers of halos seemed to connect into a sea, and amidst these shimmering waves, a roaring cheer erupted from numerous camps inside and outside Ruby City.

"They have set out," Camilla suddenly clenched her fist, endeavoring to lift her head to gaze at the direction of the sky fortress cluster, eyes wide open in the radiant sunlight, her feline-like pupils constricted into two fine lines, then as if to emphasize something, she nodded emphatically, repeating, "Dawn of the mortal world has set out!"

Venna took a deep breath, usually calm and composed, yet was now stirred with unprecedentedly intense emotions, akin to when she last saw a train full of industrial goods entering Wind Song City. The gray elves’ leader watched those grandiose figures slowly merging into a blurred shadow in the sunlight, listening to the mountain- and sea-like cheers from the camps outside the city, murmuring in a voice only she could hear: "May the mortal world greet its dawn..."

"Dawn of the mortal world has set sail."

Outside the eastern camp of Ruby City, Duke Baldwin Franklin whispered, retracting his gaze from the sky. At this moment, he stood beside a frontline command vehicle with composite barrier and heavy armor; a Steel Envoy Multi-Functional War Vehicle was expanding its onboard Magic Crystal nearby, covering the surrounding area with a charging field, while further away, the war vehicle units started their engines, expeditionary army soldiers boarded transport vehicles, Dragon Cavalry Fighters ascended into the sky amidst a deep hum, establishing signal links with ground command stations—in unified and efficient command, this well-trained expeditionary force was ready to head to the battlefield.

"Send a message to King Wickcliff," Duke Baldwin turned to his aide, "My army will depart in ten minutes, moving towards the mountain barrier pass, instruct his troops to follow promptly."

"Yes, my lord duke!"

...

The sunlight gradually descended, with the sky turning a shade of orange-red that spread evenly across the platform of the train station. Located in the eastern continent, the Typhon Empire welcomed the sunset earlier than other countries. Amid the increasingly deep hues of twilight, Viscount Hemir instinctively adjusted his tie at the collar, shifted his body’s center of gravity, and once again looked up at the mechanical clock hanging on the column of the platform, feeling that the brass pointer was moving so slowly it made him wonder if it might be broken.

He stood on the train platform situated in the southwestern frontier of the Empire, far from the familiar, prosperous comfort of Aldernon, away from his beloved fireplace, garden, and high-backed chair with the sky-blue cushion. Here, there were no well-trained maids and Attendants, only rigid soldiers and single-minded technicians, no pleasant baths and flower halls, only the mechanical roar of assembly factories and mundane platforms. He had spent a long time adapting to these great changes. However, in recent days, he began to gradually admit that his ability to "adapt to the environment" might not be as talented as he imagined.

"Sometimes, I truly feel like there’s something wrong with my mind," said the Viscount softly to his Attendant beside him after waiting half a day on the platform. His voice was very low because he didn’t want the nearby waiting craftsmen and soldiers to hear his mutterings. Yet, he didn’t mind sharing these words with his personal servant, whom he trusted even more than any sibling in his family, "I actually applied to come to this place... It’s less than a day’s journey to the border guarded by Count Dyson! I feel as if I can smell the stench of wasteland in the air."

He didn’t really know if the wasteland had a smell, but the tense, desolate atmosphere in this frontier town genuinely made him feel as if every morning here greeted him with a scent emanating from the wasteland—a smell that’s too close to death.

The servant spoke, voice as gentle as ever: "Yet, you still applied to come here, as a brave Typhonian, to play your irreplaceable role—not everyone has your experience in managing multiple factories and quickly organizing large-scale technical teams."

"Well, I must admit I’m indeed slightly better than those pampered fools in handling these aspects," Viscount Hemir pinched his temples, "Moreover, how did that phrase go... The Empire needs every citizen to fulfill their duty, especially in these hard times... We all must be ready."

He adjusted his tie again—finally, he straightened it down completely. If he were in a salon in Aldernon, he would never commit such a vulgar act, yet at this moment, it gave him a tremendous sense of relief, making him regret torturing himself with such a useless item for so many days.

Then, he looked up again, watching the V-shaped track extending toward the south, disappearing into the horizon.

This is a difficult period. Even the proud Typhonians must admit the current hardships, but as an aristocrat, he must assure his followers that the tough situation will eventually pass, and everyone should play their part in the process—perhaps this bit of pride truly plays a role. He applied to come here, to this border town just a day away from the frontline, and now he waits for a train coming from the south.

This railway leads to the Blue Rock Hills, ironically, it has almost never been truly used—as part of alliance commercial activities, it was rapidly established after the 112th meeting, only to be immediately ravaged by the war soon after. Those foolish and vile monsters wreaked havoc upon it. Now, the silver elves and Typhon warriors reclaimed the once-fallen land, repairing this precious transportation line. The station under Viscount Hemir’s feet has awaited their visit for an entire winter, and today it is finally to welcome its first train.

Just as Viscount Hemir couldn’t help but look again at the mechanical clock, the loud whistle of the train finally came from the horizon.

The Viscount immediately stood upright, all impatience and fatigue dissipated.

He must present himself in the most dignified manner, like a true Typhonian, to welcome the elves.

The Magic Train roared down the tracks, its engine emblazoned with the emblem of the Silver Empire already clearly visible, with Repulsion mechanisms adjusting the angles, allowing this heavy and massive iron creation to gradually slow down. Carriage after carriage moved closer to the platform, and the waiting craftsmen and soldiers quickly gathered, awaiting the controller to deactivate the magic barrier on the platform.

Viscount Hemir’s gaze fell on those freight cars slowly coming to a stop. Those flat freight cars had enormous objects firmly secured with robust steel frames and bolts—they were heavy and valuable industrial goods.

Purification Cores from the Silver Empire—strictly speaking, these are initially processed, yet-to-be-finally-tweaked and installed Purification Cores.

The key to the Barrier Wall is the Purification Tower. As a seasoned strong country, the Typhon Empire can certainly build Purification Towers, but being able to construct them is one thing. Production capacity is yet another.

Having endured the calamities by the War God and internal reshuffling, maintaining the eastern line’s situation wasn’t as easy for the Typhon Empire as outsiders imagined.

The domestic production limit is in place. If the frontline legions are to be maintained, the production of Purification Tower components will be affected. To fully produce purification devices, the war machines of the frontline will become powerless.

But now, the situation is finally improving.

"Inform General Andresha," Viscount Hemir laughed, looking at the Purification Cores fixed on the train, resembling giant spindle shapes, as if he saw mountains of treasure lying before him, "The Purification Cores she wanted will soon be delivered!"

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