Chapter 1579: The Deadly wait
"...Are we truly going to lose the strait today?!" the general muttered in dread, his voice trembling as if the words themselves were poison on his tongue.
Ruuuumble—
The ground behind him convulsed once more as yet another wave of blazing meteors plummeted from the heavens, striking like divine hammers. In the span of a heartbeat, more than a thousand soldiers were torn apart, their screams drowned in the deafening roar of falling stars. The acrid smell of charred flesh and iron filled the air, and a suffocating wave of dust and heat rolled across the battlefield.
This brutal clash was but one of countless battles erupting across the planet. At present, the Shattering Meteor Empire held dominion over roughly one-third of the world’s surface — a single sprawling continent — and that landmass was under siege from every conceivable direction: armies surged by land, fleets carved through the seas, and endless wings of aerial fighters rained down death from above. The Allies were relentless, desperate to carve out even the smallest foothold.
Yet the Shattering Meteor Empire did not merely defend. They launched suicide squads to infiltrate and wreak havoc in occupied territories. Meanwhile, Allied forces gouged open the soil, poisoning it with corruption to weaken the planet’s spirit itself as they chased a singular, terrible goal — the heart. Should the heart of the planet be unearthed or destroyed, the world would wither, its spirit extinguished, and the war would conclude in catastrophic finality.
Everywhere war raged. Across plains, seas, mountains, and skies, soldiers perished by the hundreds every passing second. Yet here — in this treacherous shallow strait where the seabed rose just enough to bear the weight of marching armies — here lay the crucible of the fiercest struggle. This narrow throat of land was more than terrain; it was the very key to survival. If the Allies won in any other theater, the Shattering Meteor Empire could counterstrike, regroup, adapt. But to lose here... to lose the strait... was unthinkable.
For if the strait fell, the Allies would claim an eternal bridgehead. A never-ending torrent of soldiers would flood into the final continent daily, a tidal wave of steel and blood. The devastation they would unleash would consume everything — forests, rivers, cities, and fortresses alike. It would not simply be a setback. It would mark the final wave, the death knell of resistance.
"I... I volunteer to annihilate the artilleries’ ground." One general stepped forward, his voice iron, his eyes blazing. He raised a gauntleted hand. "Give me a squad of our remaining elites, and grant me five shapeshifters prepared to assume Nagarath form. That will be enough."
"...Are you entirely certain?" the Marshal’s heavy head rose, his gaze boring into the man. His deep, fractured voice carried both disbelief and the faintest glimmer of grim respect. "Do you truly comprehend what you ask of us?"
The general bowed slightly, then stabbed a finger toward the detailed map laid across the ornate table. "I must pierce through eleven enemy armies and reach the emplacement of those accursed cannons. They are no ordinary field guns — they are specialized siege variants of ship-mounted artillery, anchored into the bedrock itself. They cannot be relocated without endless preparation. If I can reach them... if I can topple the ground beneath them... then the tide turns."
"Do you imagine breaking through eleven armies to be something within your grasp?" the Marshal growled, his bony jaw clenching. "Have you forgotten how pitifully few of our elites remain?"
"If the Marshal has no objection to thinning their number further, then entrust this to me." The general straightened, pride swelling in his words, his very posture radiating defiance. Though his face was half-concealed by his battle-worn helmet, the fire in his tone revealed the unshakable determination etched into his features. "I will obliterate the artilleries’ ground. I will return to strike the Allied host from behind. The rest I leave in the hands of the Marshal... and my esteemed comrades."
"...." The Marshal’s bony brows furrowed together, deep shadows sinking across his skeletal features.
The plan was reckless, almost suicidal, yet brilliant. A pincer strike: the front line would anchor while this desperate thrust pierced the rear. Should the general succeed in tearing through and unleashing the elites in the enemy’s backline, chaos would consume the Allied formation. The Marshal could then surge forward, driving the wedge home. Such a maneuver, if achieved, would not merely rout the Allies — it could shatter them, crush their morale, and cripple their campaign for decades.
"This is lunacy!" another general burst out, fury and fear in his eyes as he sensed the Marshal leaning toward agreement. "This attack guarantees the loss of General Basil and all five shapeshifters — if not their total annihilation, then at least the butchery of some! Are we truly willing to gamble with such lives?" He slammed his armored fist against the war table with a resounding crack. "Think! We have only twenty-one left who can still assume Nagarath form! If they are squandered, our last trump card will vanish!"
The Marshal’s gaze turned inward, silence stretching. Then, with a voice as cold as fractured stone, he asked, "...Does anyone here possess an alternative?"
Bzzzzzzzzzt—
As if summoned by his words, a gate at the far edge of the war plaza yawned open, spilling out ranks of soldiers clad in the gleaming silver armor of the Shattering Meteor Empire.
Yet the sight brought no relief. No spark of hope. On the contrary, as the soldiers marched forward, the Marshal and his gathered generals frowned deeply, the weight of dread pressing heavier upon them all.
"My Heavens, those are deserters..." one of the generals at the table muttered. "Have we lost another planet? Is this the third one this month?"
Such unexpected reinforcements meant only one thing: a world under the Shattering Meteor Empire had fallen to the Allies, and the surviving troops had fled to Verillion. Their arrival broke morale more than it bolstered strength.
"Does anyone have another solution?" the Marshal repeated, raising his voice to steer attention away from the bad news below.
"I propose we use displacement gear and withdraw from this sector," one general replied. "If we do, the Allies will lose their source of fresh troops for months. They won’t attempt any major campaign until they re-secure the coordinates and route their fleets to the new landing zones. During that pause their forces will shrink and the offensive will stall."
"Agreed." another general nodded. "In that time we can reorganize our ranks and reestablish control of the strait."
"Agreed."
"Agreed!"
"Impossible," the Marshal snapped, waving a hand. "We have direct orders from Lord Hedrick himself not to move for three years. We still have a month left on that mandate."
"Marshal—do you really believe those magical reinforcements will actually arrive? Reinforcements that can meaningfully help us?"
"We must withdraw immediately."
"Staying longer means losing the strait; that paves the way for the planet to fall!"
"...." The Marshal ground his teeth and then turned to General Basil. "Take whatever troops you need and execute your plan. Your sacrifice will not be in vain."
"Marshal, you—"
The generals at the table went pale with panic. Carrying out the pincer plan meant the certain loss of six shapeshifters and half of the remaining elites.
"Enough!" the Marshal barked. "We shall not disobey a direct command from the Lord, even if it means we all die!"
"...." Everyone looked down, fingers clenched tight, cursing the non-existing reinforcements in their heads. Even if his majesty the Emperor of the Shattering Meteor Empire decreed to stay they would have moved out, but if it’s Lord Hedrick, then they can only comply.
Even General Basil—the man who had proposed the plan—exhaled weakly, bowed his head, and said, "I will begin at once, Marshal." He pivoted and leapt from the platform.
But at that very moment—
Bzzzt—
"Hmm, the gate activated? Have we lost another planet?"