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Chapter 1342: Unceasing Advantage

“What’s the situation?” Tilly asked.

“The demons that attacked the convoy are almost entirely wiped out. The rest are fleeing.” Sylvie lowered her scope. “It’s our win.”

“A pity I never got to do anything.” Andrea leaned back with a shrug that managed to suggest both disappointment and resignation at once. “Looks like the grand demon lord from last time is still nursing his wounds.”

Seagull had spent the entire battle holding station in the clouds, watching for Hackzord or any other Senior Demon. Against enemies with abnormal abilities, Andrea’s close-range sniping remained the most reliable answer — but only if the shot could actually land.

Sylvie felt relief where Andrea felt frustration. She understood why. This operation had demanded that Seagull move with the convoy rather than lie in wait as it had during the Sky Lord ambush. Hackzord hadn’t sensed them that time because the plane hadn’t been present at all; she had directed the battle through the Sigil of Listening. Today they were visible — or at least traceable, if Hackzord arrived with a fresh Eye Demon. The calculus was simple: a Senior Demon appearing alone could be shot. A Senior Demon with escort would almost certainly spot Seagull before Andrea could fire, and what followed that was harder to predict.

Their absence was the better outcome. Everyone back. Mission done. There was nothing more worth being glad of.

“Better that nothing came of it.” Tilly shook her head. “If Hackzord had actually arrived, the convoy wouldn’t have left in one piece.” She tilted the glider through the cloudbase, banking west. “Now that victory is confirmed — let’s assess the battlefield before we go.”

Sylvie had done this often enough. Without obstacles to stop her, a cursory survey cost only a little magic. She extended her sight across the slope, read the shapes of things, counted.

Then she stopped.

“Two thousand — no.” She took a breath. “Close to three thousand.”

“Three thousand?” Wendy’s voice cracked with the number. “How could there be so many?”

“Those Mad Demons weren’t charging the convoy.” Sylvie looked toward the distant mountain slope, toward the hundreds of small perforations she could now read as entrances — holes bored to reduce Mist expenditure, each one sealing a chamber below. “They were scattering. In every direction.”

Most of the enemy had been sleeping underground, held in reserve until they were needed. When the fortress Monstrous Beast collapsed and its Mist supply cut out, the Red Mist dissipated faster than they could outrun it. These demons hadn’t surged out to destroy their attackers. They had surged out on instinct, the way a drowning creature lunges toward air — driven by the absence of the Mist they needed to breathe, scrambling downhill toward Sand City and Sedimentation Bay, toward any supply region still pumping.

Neither city was close enough.

The world the Red Mist had claimed — now clean, crystalline, the cold air cutting straight to the snow — had become a death-trap. They fell in a spreading ring at the base of the hill, one after another, limbs going still. A few wore small gas tanks on their backs and might reach the treeline. Most lay where they dropped.

The general staff had predicted this. Graycastle could not put a God’s Stone of Retaliation in every soldier’s hands, and the demons couldn’t fit a gas tank and breathing apparatus on every Mad Demon. The troops they sent into heavy combat were equipped. The ones left in reserve, holding territory, were not.

Two days later and it would have been a different battle entirely.

But they hadn’t been two days later. The First Army had counterattacked the morning after the retreat from Sedimentation Bay, recruiting drivers from outside the regular ranks to field enough trucks. It had been a decisive choice — which meant it had to have been made quickly, under pressure, without the luxury of certainty.

“After this battle,” Tilly said, with a curl at the corner of her mouth, “I imagine the name Pearl of the Northern Region is going to spread through all four kingdoms.”


With fewer than a hundred soldiers, they had killed close to three thousand demons. One steam-powered truck lost. Two Fires of Heaven. No soldiers dead.

The news hit the First Army headquarters at Cage Mountain and the voices in the room got louder. Even in written reports, something changed — the register of the words, the confidence in how facts were laid out. Victory has its own grammar.

Edith showed none of it. By the day the reports arrived, she had already submitted the next plan of attack.

Iron Axe approved it immediately.

The truck convoy was still on the road back when it received orders to divert — heading not for Cage Mountain but for the western pass. A water resupply truck carrying refills for the Magic Cubes met them halfway and turned to join the column. The Aerial Knights flew back to Thorn Town for a short turnaround, then took off again and made the western pass airport before nightfall.

The following noon, after driving through the night, the convoy crossed into the Kingdom of Wolfheart’s western territory. Three more trucks were lost to night driving — ruts, unseen potholes, the ordinary punishment of roads in the dark — but the remainder reached their target and attacked another fortress-like Monstrous Beast without pause.

The demons had expected to be targeted. They had not expected the counterattack team to cross the entire width of Wolfheart in under two days. The second Fortress Beast had only just retreated inside Gust Castle when the column reached the ten-kilometer mark. With no peripheral defense in place, the trucks drove inside the envelope and unloaded four Longsong Cannons before the Devilbeast patrol could mass to stop them.

The Aerial Knights hunted. Sylvie read the field from above; Tilly coordinated the responses. The new pilots — most with less than six months of combat — came close to replicating the first battle step for step. When the demons sent their air troops against the artillery, the Aerial Knights hit them from above, broke their formation, and the god’s Punishment Witches on the ground handled whatever reached close quarters.

By the third day the demons had begun expanding their outer defenses, sending troops to wreck the packed-earth roads between cities. But the roads ran for hundreds of kilometers and couldn’t be destroyed fully. While steam-powered trucks circled the approaches to Sand City — drawing eyes, pulling attention — twenty-five Fires of Heaven skirted the Impassable Mountain Range and struck the Red Mist supply lines directly, raking Metalstone Ridge from the air.

Two aerial engagements lost. A battlefront grown too long. Devilbeast reserves depleted and slow to replenish. The effects bled together and became a pattern: by the time enough demons gathered at any one point to mount a proper response, the Aerial Knights had already vanished into the cold, howling sky.

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