CH1423 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1423: Probe

“Be careful! They’re charging again!”

At Fishball’s warning, the defensive line of fewer than a hundred men produced a concentrated burst of fire. Under the barrage, the agile monstrous beasts were forced to slow their advance, crawling low beneath the smoke and flying gravel.

The two 75mm cannons had been waiting for exactly this.

Within a thousand meters, they were astonishingly accurate—their power far beyond the anti-demon rocket-propelled grenades, the nemesis of the stubborn rock monsters. The miniature monstrous beasts climbing at the front were the first to be hit; their upper bodies shredded apart, limbs landing a hundred meters away.

After several beasts fell, the rest retreated and vanished back into the Red Mist.

But everyone knew it was the calm before the storm. The monsters could regroup from any direction at any time.

This was not only happening in the northern reaches of the Kingdom of Dawn. From the mountains of Wolfheart to the Coldwind Ridge in Graycastle, battles erupted simultaneously at every moment, differing only in scale. The First Army had adopted a corresponding countermeasure—large troop concentrations for larger enemies, and smaller teams to handle isolated intruders. Fishball’s assault force existed precisely to fill the gaps and clean up what slipped through. By holding the city as a base, they intercepted demons that tried to cross over and kept a foothold for humanity.

Even as a low-ranking officer, Fishball understood the stakes. According to the higher-ups’ calculations, the Red Mist produced at Hermes would be enough to envelop the entire City of Glow within months. Fighting inside the Red Mist would soon become the norm. Soldiers needed to adapt to a battlefield without Witch support and to hold it day after day.

It was an unavoidably passive situation. No one could predict where the next attack would come from or how it would approach the warning perimeter. Establishing a fixed defensive line along the entire northern border was impossible—they lacked both the manpower and the logistics. The higher-ups were caught in a bind.

Fortunately, the soldiers had grown into their weapons. Even with just dozens of men, they could unleash a formidable volume of fire in a short window. Fishball’s team alone—four general-purpose machine guns, ten horses, and two cannons—could hold its ground against anything short of a Senior Demon.

The deadlock, after all, stemmed from the First Army’s inability to touch the floating island. Even if they fought their way onto the Hermes Plateau, there was no way to destroy a moving fortress. All they could do was hold.

The only force capable of threatening the demons directly was the Aerial Knights formation led by Princess Tilly.

“If I’d known things would turn out this way, I’d have joined the Aerial Knight Academy,” someone muttered.

“Enough of that. The standards there are too high—you think it’s as easy as enlisting here and passing basic training?”

“Joining the First Army is already an honor. My cousin couldn’t even get in.”

“But Princess Tilly is there…”

The sentence landed without a follow-up.

The images of Iron Axe and Princess Tilly surfaced unbidden in Fishball’s mind. The comparison needed no elaboration.

“Shut your mouths!” He shook the thought loose and berated them. “The Aerial Knights may go head-to-head with demons, but we are the ones protecting the citizens. The enemy could come again at any moment—watch the sentry signals!”

“Yes, sir…” The topic shifted quickly. They probably understood how unanswerable the comparison was.

“Captain.” Hanson approached with his rifle. “One of my men spotted an elevated position to the west with a good sightline. It allows observation over the enemy and is difficult for them to climb. A machine gun there could suppress the wall-climbing beasts.”

At least some people on this team are still reliable.

Fishball looked toward the indicated direction and made his decision quickly. “I’ll take five men. I’ll leave this position to you. You know when to hold and when to pull back.”

“You’re going yourself?”

“It’s our first time in this area. I’d rather see it with my own eyes.”

He knew the flank position was far more important than it appeared, and he knew Hanson’s character. His vice-captain was not only a fine marksman but prudent and steady. He was more than qualified to hold the line.

“Understood.” Hanson saluted.

Fishball chose five reconnaissance soldiers and they climbed toward the slope together.

The elevated area bore a resemblance to Northbound Slope—a gradual incline that ended abruptly in a cliff face twenty to thirty meters high. At the top, the trees and dense vegetation offered good cover and concealment.

Its only flaw was the Red Mist. It lay thick and still across the hilltop, cutting visibility. While it did not impair outward observation, being immersed in it was unpleasant.

“Light some fires to disperse the mist, then sweep the surrounding area.” Fishball found a suitable firing position and set down the machine gun.

The location was ideal. The steep cliff formed a natural barrier, especially against the monstrous beasts that left their backs entirely undefended. Fishball decided to mark it for future use before the next attack came.

He waited.

No crackling of flames came. No sound of firewood being gathered.

What’s going on? How long does it take to collect kindling?

He frowned and called out twice. The forest answered with silence.

Something was wrong.

Even if there were enemies, there should have been at least one shot.

Neither Hanson’s man who’d scouted the location nor the six who’d climbed up here with him had reported any sign of the enemy. The silence was too clean.

Then he heard it—a faint rustle to his right, as though something had stepped onto grass.

Fishball spun and raised his weapon—

A dark shape moved in front of him. Cold light pricked his cheek.

CRUNCH.

His hand went light. His weapon had been split in two.

A tall figure stood before him. She walked barefoot, light garments hanging from her blue skin—no armor, no metal objects other than the sword at her side. That was how she had moved without a sound.

It’s over.

That was his first thought.

The pamphlets from the higher-ups said this clearly: the more humanoid a demon’s form, the greater its power. Aside from the blue skin and her height, her features bore a striking resemblance to a human’s. He could only imagine what that implied.

What surprised him was the absence of fear. He felt none. The only thing in his mind was how to warn his comrades that a Senior Demon had infiltrated their position.

But the sword did not move.

The demon reached into her clothing, withdrew a piece of paper, and dropped it in front of him.

“Take this. Bring it back. Hand it to the Three Chiefs Witches.”

Her intonation was strange, the flow of her words labored. But the language was unmistakably human.

“I don’t know who the Three Chiefs Witches are.” Fishball’s hand crept toward the pistol at his waist. “And I will not help my enemy—”

“Send it and your companions stay alive.” Her words stopped his hand. “The Three Chiefs are leaders. Bring it back, and people will know.”

A purplish portal of magic opened behind her.

She stepped backward into it and disappeared without a sound.

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