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Chapter 1432: Hunter-Killer Fire Control

“All of you know our city is under siege.” Isabella clapped once to collect the room. “But the enemy isn’t simply a demonic beast horde — behind these mutated animals stands something not inferior to the demons themselves. By reliable accounts, their assaults will only grow fiercer, and larger, until we are annihilated.”

She let that settle for a breath.

“Neverwinter and the First Army will not allow them to overrun what remains of human territory. But I must stress: visible enemies are manageable. It’s the invisible ones that kill you. That isn’t exaggeration.” She nodded at two soldiers near the far wall, who gripped a large gray tarpaulin and pulled it clear.

The sound from the room was a single collective exhale.

Balshan wasn’t an exception. She had been so fixed on the metal war machine since she’d walked in that she had missed the tarpaulin entirely.

Beneath it stood something that was not quite standing. Its body half-erect, close to two meters tall, with scythe-blades suspended in the air as though the instant of lunging had been frozen in time. But a second look revealed the wounds — a gash the width of a thumb running from chest to abdomen, held together only by whatever held a dead thing in shape.

It was already dead. It just didn’t look it.

“What you see before you is what I call the invisible enemy,” Isabella said. “In motion, it blends perfectly with its surroundings — it simply disappears from sight. Killing this one cost the First Army thirty lives, and that was in broad daylight. If more are deployed in darkness, the consequences would be unthinkable.”

“We are calling them blade beasts. Five confirmed sightings on the developing grounds, with casualties after every one. This specimen was reassembled by Summer after being killed by fragmentation. It is, without question, our most critical target.”

Amy raised her hand. “What can we do about them?”

“Good question.” Isabella produced two metal plates that caught the light from across the room. “Although blade beasts aren’t demons or hybrids, they share one thing — magic power. They’re invisible to ordinary eyes, but not to a trained Witch. What you need to learn is how to use these. Magic Stone sigils.”

After the full explanation, the system clarified itself in Balshan’s mind.

Two sigils: the Sigil of Screaming and the Sigil of Resonance. The Screaming had originally been a defense against demons; the Resonance, mostly used to locate remains. After modification, the two worked in concert against blade beasts. The Screaming projected a detection field two to three kilometers out and sounded an alarm when it sensed magic power. The Witches then had to identify whether the alarm was a blade beast. If confirmed, the Resonance locked onto the target, drawing a visible thread of light between itself and the enemy. The guns followed the thread.

Simple in principle. Brutal in practice.

The Screaming reacted to hybrids as well, so the Witches had to distinguish by sound alone — and during a large demonic horde assault, picking a single signature out of the noise was its own skill. Beyond that, the sigil’s sensitivity was degraded by terrain and material. Hills, rocks, trees all dampened it. Metal paneling could reduce its range by a hundred meters with a single sheet, which meant placing it in open ground, exposed, at the front.

The Resonance thread, for its part, passed through any obstacle without difficulty — but only Witches could see it. And if they mistakenly tagged a hybrid instead of a blade beast, the thread gave no indication of the error.

“I can teach you the sigils,” Isabella said. “I cannot teach you to keep yourselves alive. For that, His Majesty has given you a position that handles that problem.” She paused. “You are going to be tank captains.”

Tank.

“This machine behind me is the Ministry of Industry’s latest creation. It can attack, defend, and withdraw through a combined siege with relative ease. The cannon on top can break a formation of enemies. As captain, you won’t personally operate the engine or the gun — you direct the driver and the gunner. You read the sigils. You make the call.” She let the weight of that settle. “Of course, if the situation demands it, you may take the cannon yourself. His Majesty has named this system Hunter-Killer Fire Control. All of you are the core of it.”

To direct and commandeer this thing.

The image assembled itself in Balshan’s head: the great iron machine rolling forward, the sigils humming, a line of light pulling taut between her hand and something that was nowhere — and then the thunder of the gun following. Something in her chest lifted.

“In the days ahead, you’ll train alongside the First Army’s tankers and learn the machine’s basic functions. But your primary task is to master the sigils and develop the instinct to distinguish enemies.” Isabella surveyed the room. “Time is short. I expect your full effort from everyone. Pass the selection, and you will become members of Graycastle’s First Armor Unit.”


In the northern reaches of the Kingdom of Dawn, Roland stepped clear of Fran’s body and the General Staff allowed themselves, as a group, to breathe again. Their expressions were those of people relieved of something they hadn’t been permitted to show they were carrying.

The Pearl of the Northern Region was the exception. She had stood through the whole operation wearing the same face she wore at every briefing.

“How did it go?”

“Better than I expected.” The decision had been made that same day, after talking with Valkries in the Dream World. The risks of using conventional means to enter had been high for both sides and the uncertainty too wide, so Roland had taken the most direct route: pull the other party in without warning. The thick rock strata hadn’t impeded the pillar of light at all, and with their eyes closed, the Eye Demons had detected nothing. Several God’s Punishment Witches had been at his side throughout, which meant even if Hackzord had sensed his location, there would have been no danger.

Still, the method couldn’t be used frequently. Once the demons returned, they would quickly recognize the hillside as a recurring location. Any advance preparations on their part would raise the probability of detection regardless of how deep underground Roland went.

“If there are new developments, the demons will contact us by letter.” Roland turned to Iron Axe. “Maintain a permanent team here. Report any movement immediately. Beyond that, they remain our enemies — especially the Monstrous Beast. If they cross the line, show no mercy.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The next direct communication with a senior demon lord will be a long time coming, Roland thought. In the Dream World he had sensed that the relationship between Valkries and the one called Serakkas was not ordinary. He’d felt a measure of disappointment that the demon who retrieved the letter hadn’t been Hackzord himself — but as things had developed, it was turning out better than expected.

Trust, in the end, was the whole operation’s load-bearing beam.

He had not yet managed to move from the northern region back toward the City of Glow when two pieces of news found him within two hours of each other.

The first: anomalies had been spotted on the Deity of Gods. It was ascending — already past three hundred meters, a rate that contradicted everything the General Staff had theorized about altitude versus magic power consumption.

The second: Fishball’s team had spotted senior demon lords again on the slope. This time there were two of them.

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