Chapter 14: The Rift and the Defense

Nightfall, on the outskirts of Belobog.

"Silvermane Guards, charge with me! We will not allow a single monster to breach our defenses!"

"Yes—!"

The quiet of the night was shattered by the rapid footsteps of the guards, following the commands of their young officer as they charged into the desolate, silent wasteland.

Before them lay a newly opened rift, a spatial fissure spreading like a malignant tumor, continuously spewing corrosive energy.

From within the expanding fissure, accompanied by a grotesque, esophagus-like quivering, monsters were being vomited out one after another.

The first to arrive were the Mindless Masks, floating entities stitched together from the faces of victims consumed by the rift. Devoid of thought and emotion, any trace of their former humanity had long since vanished.

Within their dark, hollow orbs, they channeled the rift's energy, casting a faint halo over the Winter's Shadow Wraiths that crawled out after them.

Almost visibly, the once sluggish movements of the humanoid monsters became swift and agile. Their icy, crystalline heads turned sharply toward the Silvermane Guards, who stood in a defensive line, blocking their path.

As the Winter's Shadow Wraith moved, its twisted armor creaked and groaned. The icy axe in its hand slashed through the air with a chilling gleam, its force enough to make any who underestimated it pay a heavy price.

Yet, before it could strike, a golden-haired youth clad in silver armor, wielding a massive shield fashioned from a modified instrument case, dashed forward. His boots left shallow imprints on the ground as his fist, faster than the monster's strike, connected with its face.

"Ha—!"

A sickening crack and a loud crash echoed as the Winter's Shadow Wraith was sent flying, half of its icy head shattered, its neck twisted like a corkscrew. It crashed into the horde of monsters behind it, knocking several down and causing chaos at the rift's exit.

The young officer gestured backward with his hand.

"Prepare suppression fire!"

The Silvermane Gunners at the rear quickly set up their steam-powered hand cannons—though "hand cannons" was an understatement; they were more like large-caliber artillery.

As the barrels finished heating up, the armored gunners let out a roar, aiming their cannons at the rapidly spreading horde of monsters. With a deafening boom and the recoil shaking their bodies, the cannons unleashed a torrent of fire.

Meanwhile, the Silvermane Marksmen, acting as support, picked off any monsters that escaped the cannon fire. Their long-barreled rifles, loaded with rift-piercing rounds, took down crystal-elemental creatures that attempted to take flight.

These bird-like monsters, composed of crystalline elements that roamed the rift, possessed only rudimentary intelligence. Yet, their mere presence brought a persistent chill to the surroundings. If they broke through the encirclement and reached the residential areas, it would spell disaster.

Thus, while the marksmen focused on eliminating stragglers, they also kept a vigilant eye on the creatures' movements.

When the cannon fire momentarily ceased for reloading, the Silvermane Vanguards charged forward with a battle cry.

This simple tactic often proved effective against the mindless monsters, suppressing them with ease.

However, the young officer leading the charge sensed something amiss.

It was as if the battlefield had been thrown into a boiling pot. The frigid cold brought by the Winter's Shadow Wraiths and the Frostborn Constructs had vanished, replaced by a stifling heat.

After smashing an oncoming crystal construct with his massive instrument-case shield, the young officer turned his gaze to another street, where his comrades were fighting another battle, one guarded by a figure of immense prestige.

"...Is that the main battlefield?" the young officer muttered to himself.

"Sir Gepard! Void creatures are emerging!" his adjutant warned, readying his halberd for another charge.

These otherworldly beings, their bodies resembling grotesque, sickly branches, wielded the power of the Imaginary, twisting reality at will.

As one of the Void creatures swung its sharp claws, golden traces of Imaginary energy surged through the air. A Silvermane Vanguard who had been about to attack was instantly flung backward by the force. His light armor offered no protection against the corrosive power of the Imaginary.

The two collided, and before the wounded soldier could even scream, his body was hurled into the air, his chestplate shattered.

"—!"

Gepard could see the soldier's chest caving in, blood spraying from the visor of his triangular helmet. After rolling on the ground a few times, the soldier twitched and fell still.

Such scenes became increasingly common after the Void creatures appeared.

The Silvermane Guards' encirclement was breached, and monsters poured through the gap. Some gunners, still reloading, were suddenly exposed to the enemy's attacks.

Yet, not a single soldier retreated. Falling back would inevitably disrupt the formation and crush morale.

"Hold the line! Don't let them widen the breach!" a squad leader in the vanguard shouted hoarsely.

Even if it meant greater casualties, the Silvermane Guards pressed forward, desperate to buy their comrades a chance to survive.

Gepard, too, refused to stand idle. Though he was deeply concerned about the other front, he knew that to provide reinforcements, he had to end this battle quickly.

After a moment of swift decision-making, Gepard roared, "In the name of Landau—!"

He stepped forward, his instrument-case shield cutting a sharp arc through the air. The power of Preservation, channeled through his will and the shield's defensive mechanisms, summoned a wall of ice from the shield's base.

"Through ice and snow, I have forged this ambition, which will never end!

As his words echoed, the ice rapidly expanded into an insurmountable barrier, pushing back a large number of monsters. At the same time, a translucent film enveloped every Silvermane Guard on the battlefield.

The attacks of the monsters, which would have otherwise inflicted serious wounds or even death, now merely caused faint ripples on the protective barrier.

"All Silvermane Guards! On my command, counterattack!"

Gepard's battle cry rang out once more, his fearless charge toward the Void creatures inspiring awe in his soldiers.

They followed his orders without hesitation, ignoring the attacks raining down on them. The organized counterattack dealt a heavy blow to the rift's monsters, weakening their assault.

Unnoticed by anyone, a fresh breeze swept through the stagnant, oppressive battlefield, dispelling the stifling heat and leaving behind a cool, invigorating air.

While the soldiers here fought with renewed vigor, the other battlefield had descended into a desperate struggle.

After a monster several stories tall, clad in heavy armor and burning with raging flames, emerged from the rift, the Silvermane Guards there had already resigned themselves to death.

Were it not for the noble figure who stood unwavering at the front, directing counterattacks with masterful tactics, the battlefield would have already been reduced to ashes.

Yet, the sheer disparity in power could not be overcome by tactics alone. The young woman fighting on the front lines grew paler by the minute, her cheeks flushed with an unhealthy redness, her lips cracked, and her throat raw and painful.

Her gaze repeatedly fell on her comrades, many of whom were severely burned and on the verge of collapse. Anxiety and the need to remain calm warred within her.

And deep down, a reluctant possibility lingered in her mind.

...Had her mother's plan gone wrong?