Chapter 38: Ninth Fortress Part 3

An He commanded her Ravens to pursue the Golden Eagle! She keyed her shoulder radio: “Sentries, defend!”

The “defend” hadn’t fully left her lips when an elbow hooked around her neck from behind. No. 1 hadn’t chased Ide—she’d targeted this new threat. Calmly spitting blood, she tightened her hold.

An He’s face flushed crimson in seconds. Her talents failed—Shatterblade Time and Parasite inert. No. 01’s physical prowess never faltered.

In that choking instant, all An He’s questions answered: No. 1 hadn’t brutally honed her body for nothing. When talents vanished, only she remained unaffected.

Her talent offered no buffs, so she’d forged herself into a weapon.

Damn it.

Damn it!

Ten seconds in, agony tore at An He’s throat, vocal cords shredding, skin numbing from pain. Oxygen starved her brain, thoughts fracturing—so she didn’t notice No. 1 pressing a gun to her back.

The Raven pursuit faltered from An He’s mental haze. No. 1 tilted her head and squeezed the trigger—this battlefield veteran didn’t want to strangle her foe; she preferred a clean bullet.

A half-second before the round fired, An He’s numb fingers found the leather pouch at her waist—home to her self-destruct tool, the White Phosphorus Button she’d used before.

She hesitated one beat, then smashed the button against No. 1’s elbow. A streaking Raven followed, beaking the casing open. Flames erupted, hundreds of degrees engulfing the two women and the bird.

No. 1 recoiled in pain, elbow loosening. An He slipped downward from gravity. The bullet punched through her shoulder blade, grazing her heart, lodging in her chest—nearly through-and-through.

Pain. Worse than any wound before, stripping her last shreds of awareness.

She dropped to her knees, white phosphorus flames licking her clothes.

No. 1 tried stamping them out, forced to release her.

With her fading wits, An He tore off her jacket, shaking free of the embers. She looked up—Sora peered through the distant firelight, brow furrowed.

Sora shouted something, but An He’s ears rang, words lost. Guessing from context, the Golden Eagle had breached the wall, scanning terrain.

Even as flames consumed her, No. 1 radioed No. 55 a string of numbers—their internal coordinates.

An He craned back weakly. White phosphorus, once lit, burned unquenchable—even sand wouldn’t douse it. No. 1’s fire raged fiercer.

Under An He’s gaze, No. 1 abandoned extinguishing it. She barked positions rapidly, guiding the Golden Eagle to punch through the High Wall for precision.

But time ran out. Sentries atop the wall nailed the Golden Eagle. The next instant, An He drew and fired—straight at No. 1’s forehead, resolute.

No. 1 didn’t dodge.

Her report complete, she gazed calmly toward Sora.

Behind her, the Golden Eagle slammed heavily into the High Wall, leaving a long bloodstain on the cold metal.

No. 01 was dead. An He whipped her head back toward Sora’s position. The twenty-odd enemies who had survived Ide’s bombing were gone—all of them vanished in a single second!

Damn it, they’ve failed.

An He felt a towering rage. The sand and gravel clutched in her palms ground into her skin until it bled. She hated war. She hated mental Innate Talents! And spatial Innate Talents too!

She must have zoned out for half a minute—maybe longer—when a tall figure drenched in blood rushed up to her and hauled her to her feet. “An He, get up. We need to hurry back to the fortress.”

…

Tina clutched her waist. Ide’s bomb had wounded her badly, and blood poured nonstop from the gash. She didn’t dare imagine it: of all the soldiers around her who could still move, only twenty-odd remained.

They had paid such a steep price to reach this point. There was no turning back now.

No. 55 was still alive. No. 08, who wielded Explosive Propulsion, was still fighting fit. And there were three other Embedded Spirit Bodies with decent combat ability.

Tina’s brows furrowed deeper than a mountain gorge.

Ide’s ability was stronger than she had imagined. Even stripped of her Innate Talent, she had taken a huge swath of their people with her—far beyond expectations.

But what exceeded all expectations was that sky-darkening swarm of Ravens. What the hell are those things?! Tina’s eyes burned bloodshot with rage.

“Commander, what do we do next?!” No. 55 asked Tina for orders. At the cost of sacrificing No. 01, they had breached the High Wall. But they couldn’t linger—the sentries on the wall were already chasing them down.

Tina snapped back to reality. “Split into two teams. One heads to the Underground Shelter to control the residents. The other goes to the Iron Smelting Plant to seize control.”

Just taking the Iron Smelting Plant wouldn’t cut it. Their losses were devastating; the survivors were too few. Even if they captured the plant, they might not hold it down. They probably couldn’t escape the Ninth Fortress at all.

So they needed to control the residents too—seize the initiative. Only then would Ide be forced to surrender.

Tina laid out the plan quickly. “Everyone, divide into two groups of ten. Move out immediately.”

She paused, then added, “Right—Heroic Spirits Society has an ally using the alias Lola. She’s Su Ling’s assistant and might be with her. Go rescue her.”

Tina used the word “rescue.” She still chose to trust Lola. She figured Lola had sent out intel, but the Ninth Fortress had intercepted the signal, so Ide had completely reworked their defenses. If that was the case, Lola’s situation right now was probably dire. She had to get her out.

Of course, betrayal and fake intel weren’t off the table. But even if Lola had turned, they should drag her back for the Saint Lord to deal with.

Tina hesitated briefly over force allocation. The Iron Smelting Plant was sure to be guarded; she needed heavy hitters there.

But the Underground Shelter was crucial too. Her team of ten had to intimidate the residents effectively.

No time for overthinking—she had to decide fast. Tina turned. “No. 55, find high ground and teleport straight to the Underground Shelter. No. 08, go with her.”

She was sending the two strongest overall to control the residents. Blame it on knowing Ide too well. For Ide, the lives of the residents always came first—above everything else.

She would seize Ide’s lifeline.

“The rest of you, follow me to the Iron Smelting Plant.” With teams assigned, Tina glanced back before they split. “No. 08, use your explosive Innate Talent sparingly. Remember—no harming the young unless it’s an emergency.”

Tina added, “But I authorize you to kill their leaders.”

Killing the young served no purpose. They didn’t revel in slaughter; this was about resources, survival. If everyone could live in abundance, no one would choose killing. Tina hated it deeply—in fact, the Saint Lord loathed it too. But the God always played cruel jokes. She and the Saint Lord had the most blood on their hands, blood that no amount of washing could cleanse.

No. 08 nodded.

No one else spoke.

The group split silently into two teams and vanished into the night, heading in different directions.

…

“Asta…” An He clutched her chest and coughed twice. Her voice was hoarse and ragged—her vocal cords damaged, her neck already covered in ugly scars. “I saw the enemy heading for the Iron Smelting Plant. Take your people and stop them!”

Now, An He and Ide had climbed back up to the defenses the way they came and entered the fortress proper. The Iron Smelting Plant lay to the southeast, closer to Asta at the main gate. An He couldn’t make it there from dead north in time—she had to ask Asta to hold the line.

Both she and Ide drowned in massive guilt. They hadn’t stopped the enemy at the Iron Wall. Even the wounded had to fight personally. But that guilt didn’t show on their faces.

They hadn’t given up on saving this sanctuary yet.

As An He contacted Asta, Ide mobilized every Thorn Lamp left in the fortress, throwing everything at Sora without mercy. They hadn’t fallen yet. It wasn’t time to surrender.

“Commander, we need to hurry to the Iron Smelting Plant.” An He gripped the stair railing. She tightened the leather strap of her shoulder guard over her wound, cinching the buckle as far as it would go to staunch the bleeding.

“Wait, An He.” Ide halted abruptly.

For the first time, An He saw hesitation and conflict twist the face of their decisive commander.

Ide wrestled between reason and emotion, torn between the Iron Smelting Plant and the Underground Shelter. She couldn’t suppress the doubt.

The Iron Smelting Plant was the First Fortress’s target. Sora had surely gone there to seize it. Ide’s most rational move was to intercept her personally.

But she couldn’t abandon the Ninth Fortress’s residents.

No time to deliberate—she had to choose.

Ide looked up, her disheveled hair framing eyes filled with resolve. “I can’t make it to the Iron Smelting Plant. I have to save the Ninth Fortress’s people. An He, I need you to support Asta. Please.”

Pain flickered in Ide’s eyes. She knew Sora had her pegged—Sora would use the residents to blackmail her, delay her, keep her from the plant.

Sora knew Ide would choose the Underground Shelter.

Damn it. Ide seethed with frustration. For this battle, she had made many changes—even altered her tactics. But this time, she couldn’t change her core. She had to let Sora have her way.

“Commander…” An He opened her mouth.

She didn’t know what to say to dissuade her. If Ide abandoned the Iron Smelting Plant, she abandoned the Ninth Fortress’s lifeline. Would the fortress even survive?

She didn’t voice it.

But Ide answered anyway.

Ide shouldered her rifle and strode resolutely toward the opposite stairwell from An He. “No matter what, I have to keep people alive. Only if they live is there hope for the future.”