Chapter 3 – Last Light (Part II)
The western wall had stopped losing ground.
For now.
Captain Elias rested his rifle against the battlements and looked over the edge.
The monster tide had retreated nearly thirty meters from the base of the wall.
Not because they wanted to.
Because the sky had come alive.
---
A shadow swept across the battlefield.
Then another.
Then dozens more.
Every soldier on the wall instinctively looked up.
Mana-powered battleships drifted overhead in disciplined formations, their undersides glowing with layers of defensive runes. Smaller escort frigates flew between them while wings of interceptors raced ahead, leaving trails of blue mana through the crimson sky.
A veteran beside Elias exhaled.
"...Sky Fleet."
Another soldier smiled for the first time that morning.
"They made it."
The answer came from somewhere behind them.
"Took them long enough."
No one laughed.
But the tension eased, if only a little.
---
A signal flare rose from the flagship.
Moments later the bombardment began.
The western plains erupted.
Columns of blue-white mana slammed into the advancing monster ranks with surgical precision.
Entire formations disappeared beneath expanding rings of light.
The pressure on the wall eased almost immediately.
"Push them back!"
"Clear the hooks!"
"Engineering teams, move!"
The orders echoed across the battlements.
Commandos surged forward, driving the monsters off the parapets while engineers emerged from cover carrying tool kits instead of rifles.
Arjun jumped across a cracked section of stone and dropped beside a shattered reinforcement pillar.
"Status?"
His apprentice checked the readings.
"Thirty-eight percent integrity."
"Good."
The apprentice stared at him.
"...Good?"
"It hasn't fallen yet."
Arjun opened his toolbox.
"That's good enough."
Nearby, another engineer shouted.
"I need a replacement conduit!"
A commando slid a heavy metal case across the stone.
"That's the last one."
"We only need one."
The commando nodded and turned back toward the wall, rifle already firing.
No one thanked him.
There wasn't time.
---
Further down the battlements, Father Michael knelt beside an exhausted infantry squad.
One by one he rested a hand on their shoulders.
The blessing wasn't spectacular.
No brilliant light.
No heavenly choir.
The soldiers simply breathed easier.
Hands that had begun to shake steadied once more.
The ache in bruised muscles dulled.
One soldier flexed his fingers around his rifle.
"...That's better."
Michael smiled faintly.
"It'll last twenty minutes."
"That's all?"
"It's all I've got."
The soldier nodded.
"...Twenty minutes is enough."
Michael stood.
Another platoon was already waiting.
---
Above Atlas, the bridge of the battleship Resolute remained calm.
Fleet Marshal Orion watched the battle unfold across floating tactical projections.
"Report."
"Bomber Wing Three has completed two attack runs."
"Western wall pressure decreasing."
"Enemy aerial response remains limited."
Orion frowned.
"Limited?"
His operations officer nodded.
"They're committing far fewer aerial units than expected."
That bothered him.
The demons never wasted an advantage.
If they weren't contesting the skies...
They were planning something else.
Before he could speak, a communications officer looked up.
"Incoming priority transmission from Central Command."
The bridge fell quiet.
Leon Akros appeared above the command table as a blue mana projection.
"Marshal."
Orion nodded once.
"General."
Leon wasted no time.
"Maintain western support for another six minutes."
Orion looked toward the tactical display.
"...Six?"
"Exactly six."
"What happens after six?"
"You'll receive new orders."
The projection vanished.
One of Orion's officers looked confused.
"That's it?"
Orion allowed himself a small smile.
"That's it."
"You don't even know what he's planning."
"I don't need to."
He looked back toward the battlefield.
"If Leon says six minutes..."
"...then somewhere on this battlefield, something happens in six minutes."
---
Central Command.
Marcus folded his arms.
"You saw something."
Leon didn't answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed on the world map suspended above the command table.
Blue markers represented humanity.
Red represented confirmed enemy formations.
Most officers watched the fighting.
Leon watched movement.
Finally he spoke.
"They're fixing us."
Ellis looked over.
"Sir?"
"The western assault."
He pointed at the wall.
"The aerial attack."
His finger moved upward.
"They're not trying to win either battle."
Marcus walked closer.
"They're buying time."
Leon nodded.
"For something else."
An analyst interrupted.
"Observation Tower Seven reporting unusual reserve movement."
Leon didn't even turn.
"Direction."
"Unable to confirm."
Marcus looked at him.
"You already know."
"...East."
The room exchanged uncertain glances.
No reports supported that.
Not yet.
Thirty seconds later another transmission arrived.
"General."
The analyst swallowed.
"Eastern reconnaissance confirms large-scale enemy movement."
Marcus sighed.
"I really hate when you do that."
Leon finally looked away from the map.
"Deputy Ellis."
"Sir."
"Recall Third Mobile Corps from western reserve."
"They're reinforcing the wall."
"They've bought enough time."
Ellis nodded.
"Destination?"
"Eastern Mana Relay."
Marcus blinked.
"...You're sending me."
Leon met his eyes.
"Yes."
Marcus scratched the back of his neck.
"I was hoping for an easier assignment."
"There isn't one."
"Thought I'd ask."
A few officers smiled.
Marcus picked up his helmet from the table.
"Anything else?"
Leon handed him a data slate.
"Take Fourth Air Cavalry."
Marcus scanned the orders.
"...You think they're going after the relay."
"I think they're going somewhere."
"And if you're wrong?"
Leon looked back at the map.
"Then you'll come back."
Marcus grinned.
"And you'll pretend this conversation never happened."
"Correct."
Without another word, Marcus turned and left the command center.
Everyone watched him go.
No one wished him luck.
Veterans didn't.
---
The underground transit platform beneath Atlas was already waiting.
Armored transport trains hummed quietly along reinforced mana rails.
Soldiers from the Third Mobile Corps boarded with practiced efficiency.
No shouting.
No confusion.
Company commanders checked names.
Engineers loaded ammunition pallets.
Priests moved between carriages distributing mana restoratives.
Marcus stepped aboard the lead carriage.
One of his captains approached.
"Colonel."
Marcus looked up.
"New orders?"
"We're heading east."
The captain frowned.
"The western wall still needs us."
Marcus shrugged.
"Apparently the east needs us more."
"You know why?"
Marcus secured his sword across his back.
"I've stopped asking Leon that question."
The captain laughed.
"Why?"
Marcus looked through the train window as it began to move.
"Because every time I think he's wrong..."
He watched the fortress disappear behind them.
"...I'm the one who ends up apologizing."
---
High above Atlas, Orion looked toward the dimensional rift.
The battlefield below had begun to stabilize.
Exactly as Leon predicted.
Then every warning crystal on the bridge lit up at once.
A radar mage's voice cut through the silence.
"Marshal..."
Orion followed his gaze.
Beyond the rift...
Dark shapes emerged from the crimson clouds.
Not dozens.
Not hundreds.
Thousands.
Wyverns.
Flying in disciplined wedges.
Each carrying an armored demon rider.
The bridge fell silent.
One officer whispered under his breath.
"So that's where they were."
Orion straightened.
"Signal every carrier group."
His voice remained calm.
"Enemy aerial legion approaching."
Around him, the fleet shifted formation.
Escort ships moved outward.
Interceptors launched in waves.
The skies above Atlas, briefly won through blood and planning, were about to become another battlefield.