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Chapter 1471: Blood-colored Dawn

When the Divine Will’s light finally dispersed, the sky shed its layered dark clouds and opened again.

Tens of thousands of demons stood at a distance, silent witnesses to the duel of two senior lords.

The grasslands were gone. In their place lay scorched earth — craters meters wide, boulders cracked to powder, trees reduced to torches. The word destruction was barely adequate. Yet Blood Conqueror’s massive body had careened through the golden lightning as though the Divine Will were rain on stone. He, too, had left his mark: craters shaped by the tremendous strength he’d always worn as a crown.

He was the first to fall.

Silent Disaster’s attacks were not merely formidable — her speed matched Undeserved’s, and each pass left a wound. Magic power has limits; even a senior Lord of Hell’s recovery could not keep pace with the rate at which she opened him. When she brushed past him one final time, her blades sheared through his thick calf, and victory ceased to be a question.

“This is not a commensurate battle,” Death Scar murmured.

Blood Conqueror’s abilities mirrored those of a human Extraordinary. His magic stone acted on his body alone — rendering him invincible on the field, nearly impervious to both metal and magic — but in a contest of stamina he had no answer for Silent Disaster’s relentless culling, her sharp senses, the way she slipped past every blow that might have ended her.

“Not necessarily,” Hackzord said. “Watch.”

“Cough — cough… cough…” Blood Conqueror was lacquered in wounds, blue blood fountaining from a dozen openings. His injuries had long outpaced his recovery. He braced himself against his ax, but on his ruined face there was a look of baffling joy. “Not bad. As expected of a Charita genius. I’ve long wished to see who… cough… is the strongest warrior in the race.”

”…” Silent Disaster’s armor bore fresh dents, and one arm hung at a wrong angle, the bone snapped clean through. “Had I not faced a near-death battle recently, the outcome might have been less certain.”

“This is the joy of slaughter, isn’t it?” Blood Conqueror coughed a mouthful of blue. “Compared to surrendering, this suits me better.”

She steadied her breathing. She raised her sword in one hand and walked toward him.

“Cough… Final question. Are you going to be like those trash — kneeling to the humans with the fate of our race as your excuse?”

“No.” She stopped before him. “I’m doing this for Valkries.”

The sword came down.

Ripples of magic power swept through the Realm of Mind once again. No one moved to stop them. No one was willing. The ending had seemed written from the first moment they faced each other.


“What do we do next?” Death Scar asked after a long silence. “The Mothers of Soul that need transplantation are all on the Deity of Gods. We have only three Birth Towers still producing Red Mist, and the stronghold closest to the north will fall to the Sky-sea Realm eventually. Once Arrieta and your Sky City are gone, there is nowhere left to fall back to.”

“Much needs to be done.” Hackzord exhaled. “The troops retreating from the rear must be settled. A supply line between the two cities must be established. The legacy shard must be held firmly — kept far from both humans and the Sky-sea Realm. And the race needs a new King, so that future generations do not simply end.” He paused. “But the first thing that needs to happen is to negotiate with the humans.”

I hope Valkries didn’t make a wrong choice.

He turned and walked toward camp. The race parted before him, making way.

Sky Lord looked east, toward the blood-red dawn, and said nothing in reply.


Roland was awake early when word came that the fleet was approaching. He walked to the landing site.

He was not the only one. The First Army, the engineering teams, the support crews — everyone had poured to the surface, gathered on the tarmac, waiting for the Aerial Knights’ return.

When the first biplane touched down on the floating island’s runway — unstable, lurching, but down — a cheer erupted from the crowd like something long-held finally released.

He waited. Finally he saw the Seagull and the Phoenix. The glider looked much as it had when it departed. The Phoenix was mottled with what the sky had put it through, but it flew steady — it always flew steady. The two planes rolled to a stop before him.

He was already striding across the tarmac before the staircase was raised.

“Wait, wait —” Tilly stepped off and held out both arms to block him. “Don’t come near!”

“Why?”

“You said there would be dangerous contamination after the explosion. The Phoenix was far from the target, but there’s no guarantee it wasn’t tainted. If I’ve already touched it, and you come over —”

He pulled her into a hug before she could finish.

“Who cares,” he said, laughing.

The crowd had seen it. More people surged across the tarmac, arms open, pulling the returning Aerial Knights into embraces, lifting some of them into the air. The landing area became something other than a landing area.

“Didn’t you say they were supposed to undergo cleansing and inspection on return?” Nightingale asked, her lips curling.

Anna shook her head, amused. “It seems you set a poor example.”

“Apparently…” Roland pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Woo!” Lightning dropped out of the sky and flung herself at him. “We did it!”

“Coo! We won! Coo!” Maggie followed close behind.

The other Witches came forward.

“Aren’t you going to stop everyone?” Nightingale asked, a shrug in her voice.

Tilly considered it, then laughed. “Who cares!”

The landing area eventually returned to something like order. Per the Aerial Knights’ reports, the Logistics team sorted the returning planes into batches, assessing required decontamination based on their distance from the blast. The Fury of Heaven planes that Good and company had flown were immediately decommissioned — they had been too close to the Deity of Gods.

The First Army’s senior officers assembled the final count. A hundred and forty-six planes had returned safely, meaning Neverwinter had lost nearly a third of its aerial forces, the majority of those first-generation Fire of Heaven planes. The number of senior demons defending King’s City had been on an entirely different order than the Western Front’s army. Without the measure they had taken, this battle would not have ended so quickly.

Of the two other bombers, only Kun Peng returned. When Sylvie relayed Eagle Face’s last words, a brief silence fell over the room.

“Graycastle will not forget them,” Roland said. “When we return to Neverwinter, I will see that everyone remembers their names — those who were sacrificed, and those who survived. But before any celebration, we need to confirm the physical condition of every Aerial Knight.”

“Your Majesty, the Logistics team has already made preparations,” Iron Axe said.

This was part of the plan — tracking, observation, quarantine for the exposed. With Hero’s ability to transfer illness and Nana’s ability to eliminate it, radiation sickness was not beyond them. The process would take time and cost a great deal, but Roland had no intention of abandoning anyone.

“And before all of that,” he said, slowing his voice, “I give everyone leave to celebrate tonight. For a victory that did not come easily.”

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