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Chapter 1397: The Bloody Battle in the Mountains (1)

“Be careful — the next part drops fast. Close your eyes if you need to.”

Lightning adjusted her grip and carried the Graycastle soldier to the lip of the summit. Their feet left the rock, and for one lurching moment the world fell away beneath them — a plummet of thirty meters before her power caught and steadied their descent.

When his boots touched earth again the soldier’s face had gone the color of old tallow. “Thank— thank you, Miss Lightning, I— ugh—”

“Breathe slowly. It passes.”

She was already climbing back into the cold air.


Cat’s Claw had been right. The stone pillar’s sudden impact had shattered the formation like a dropped plate: some men had frozen behind cover and never heard the retreat signal; some had heard it and refused to abandon their wounded; some had simply fought on, backs against the rock, until the Spider Demons pressed too close to move. With the bulk of the assault force filing down the mountain path in batches, Lightning was the only reason any of the stranded had hope.

Her ascent to adulthood hadn’t made her stronger — not in any way that mattered for lifting weight. But she could now hold altitude at ten meters without effort, and that was the difference between a soldier dying on the wrong side of the pillar and a soldier stumbling, pale and shaking, onto the back-slope trail.

The limitation was one body at a time. And carrying a man over a cliff face, even a controlled descent, was a plummet by any honest accounting.

The gunfire from the artillery position thinned and died. Demons and defenders alike were nearly spent up there. Lightning made three more passes and collected about ten survivors in total, setting them on a narrow path cut into the mountain’s shadow.

“I think that’s the last one.” She landed and let out a long breath. “Can you find your way down from here?”

Everyone snapped to attention. “Thank you, Miss Lightning!” One man hesitated before asking, “Do you know where the main force is?”

“Other side of the mountain, holding against Spider Demons from the north. There’s no shortcut — go straight down and reach Metalstone Ridge before the floating island clears the range.”

“Understood.” The weight of it settled over their faces. They were alive because other men were not. None of them had the luxury of standing here long enough to feel it properly.

One soldier — the one who had retched — cleared his throat. “Miss Lightning. When the pillar hit, the tremors collapsed the shelter around Cannon No. 3. I saw people near it just before I ran. I don’t know if anyone survived.”

“Cannon No. 3’s shelter. I’ll check.”

She watched them turn down the trail, then rose and banked back toward the artillery formation.

Maggie’s voice crackled from the Sigil of Listening.

“Careful, coo — the demons are loading a third pillar!”

“Can you read the target?”

“Not sure, but I don’t think it’s the mountaintop, coo!” A pause, then sharply: “It’s in the air, coo!”

Lightning climbed hard and looked. The black column was already tracing its arc across the sky, a slow and monstrous parabola aimed somewhere down into the mountain’s interior.

Not at the assault force. At the retreating troops.

The terrain down there was a labyrinth of ravines and switchbacks. A stone pillar landing among soldiers threading through those narrows would be catastrophic. The one consolation was that the same terrain that complicated the retreat also complicated the aim — the undulating ridgelines made any precision shot from the floating island nearly impossible. The pillar would land somewhere. It might not land on anyone.

She banked for the mountainside and started down.


At that same moment, aboard the Seagull, Sylvie’s eyes snapped open.

“Heavens—”

“What is it?” Andrea straightened at once. Sylvie had kept her eyes shut for the last hour, working on the theory that the Eye of Magic couldn’t be detected unless it was actively looking — and that not looking down through the clouds was the safest posture they had.

“There is an enormous magic power feedback.” Sylvie’s voice was low, unsteady. “It is moving. Toward the Impassable Mountain Range.”

Magic power feedback.

The phrase landed in Andrea’s chest like a stone. She had heard it once before — at Taquila, when Ursrook had used a decoy to flush the ambush team out of hiding. But a decoy read differently under Sylvie’s eye: the signature was wrong, too clean, too rehearsed. At ten kilometers Sylvie couldn’t see the fine grain of it, but at this range she could tell real from counterfeit.

This was real.

A genuine Senior Demon, moving fast, on approach.

They revealed themselves. Andrea didn’t know why. It didn’t matter.

“Our turn,” she said.

But Sylvie was staring at the floor of the cabin, sweat beading on her forehead. “Is it truly a demon? How can any single being carry that much—”

“How much?”

“Far beyond Ursrook.” She pressed her lips together. “The only comparison I can make is Leaf. Leaf in the Heart of the Forest.”

Andrea went still.

She had seen Leaf pour herself into the Misty Forest — a corner of a vast ancient wood feeding its accumulated life into one woman’s body. The result had been almost incomprehensible. And that was external power, borrowed from a living ecosystem. For a single body to carry what Sylvie was describing—

“You’re certain you’re not exaggerating?”

Wendy was already moving, hand on every Sigil of Listening. “Princess Tilly — Lightning — Maggie: this is Seagull. Sylvie has detected a hostile approaching the mountain range. Magic power signature suggests a Higher Ascendant-ranked Senior Lord. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage.”

“Then what do we do?” Shavi asked from the pilot’s seat, her voice carefully quiet.

“Do I need to answer that?” Andrea’s fists closed at her sides. “A bullet made from our sisters’ work deserves a target worth spending it on.”


Boom—!

The third pillar passed between two peaks at height, shearing through dead timber in a long brown scar before tumbling into the valley below. The noise rolled out and came back from the ridgelines like a second explosion. The contrast between the fresh-torn earth and the surrounding snow was stark — a wound on the mountain’s white skin.

Cat’s Claw exhaled through his nose.

His instinct about the quick retreat had been correct. The gap between the second and third pillar had been long — long enough for the assault force to settle into a defensible position at the mountainside, with the stone column now conveniently parked between them and the reserve troops. The change in elevation gave his shooters a natural advantage; the distance of over a kilometer spread the incoming threat wide enough to manage.

He only regretted the absence of the 75mm cannons. Aimed fire into the base of the pillar the moment the Spider Demons emerged — that would have been something worth watching.

He tightened his grip on his rifle and steadied his breathing.

They had bought time. Now they had to use it.

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