Chapter 39: Ninth Fortress Part 2

“Lola?” No. 08 shouted while keeping her finger on the trigger, calling her comrade’s name. “Captain Sora wants me to find you. Your mission’s done—stand with us.”

These people must have seen her portrait and recognized her. And at the moment when she was completely off guard, they untimely exposed her.

Lola glanced at Su Ling first, but she couldn’t see Su Ling’s eyes—Su Ling was looking toward the civilians at the rear, the people she was duty-bound to protect.

Yet Lola still noticed the subtle tremble in Su Ling. The professor gritted her teeth, thick blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Su Ling no longer looked at her, no longer watched her with concern; it was as if she’d decisively struck her from the protection list.

Lola silently lowered the gun she hadn’t even fired, taking a step toward No. 08.

She’d warned Su Ling—not everyone was worth dying for, and there was no need to trust others so blindly. She’d warned her.

It was Su Ling who hadn’t listened.

Why be so kind?

Lola raised her head amid the intensifying gunfire, her face expressionless as she took another step.

She curled the index finger resting outside the trigger, quietly hooking it onto the trigger guard.

She still hadn’t dropped the gun.

As uncontrollable thoughts raced through her mind about where to shoot to save Su Ling, No. 08’s voice exploded like a bomb, seizing complete control of the situation.

“No one move! Everyone drop your weapons, or I’ll kill her right now!”

Like a magical incantation, the barrage of fire vanished in an instant.

In that moment, not a soul—including Lola—dared make a move. An eerie silence took over the entire cavern as both sides ceased fire.

…

Su Ling clearly hadn’t anticipated this outcome. She froze for a second.

“Attack,” she straightened up and ordered the logistics team nearby. “Ignore me. Don’t surrender.”

But this time, no one obeyed her.

Su Ling realized the problem: out of duty, she’d positioned herself at the front of the group, becoming everyone’s shield.

What she hadn’t realized was that she herself had become the Ninth Fortress’s soft underbelly.

No one wanted to watch Su Ling die right in front of them, so for a moment, not a single person fired proactively.

This bizarre standoff caught Su Ling off guard. She saw the crowd trembling in panic and confusion, some even shedding tears—tears they hadn’t shed even when they’d been wounded moments before.

This isn’t right, Su Ling thought, guilt washing over her. The fortress she and Ide had painstakingly protected couldn’t fall into enemy hands because of her.

No. 08 gripped Su Ling’s shoulder harder, rubbing the fabric there. “It’ll explode.” The scarred warrior on her face spread her palm in a half-threat, half-well-meaning warning.

The survivors among the seven enemies no longer aimed at anyone else. Without exception, they all trained their guns on Su Ling. The moment anyone fired, she’d be riddled with bullets.

And then, their greatest threat—the Embedded Spirit Elephant—would cease to exist.

But No. 08 didn’t fire immediately. She knew Su Ling was her trump card. Pulling the trigger would be like breaching a dam; these residents would fight back, leading to mutual destruction. No. 08 didn’t want that. Her goal was total control: hold Su Ling hostage and negotiate with Ide.

No. 55 snatched a weapon from one of the Thorn Lamp logistics personnel. In a flat tone, she called for surrender: “Drop your weapons. Everyone squat down. Obey, and we won’t shoot. We’ll even resettle you all.”

No one believed her, so no one moved. It was obvious—surrender meant surviving only as lowly citizens of the First Fortress.

Seeing this, No. 55 changed tactics: “Throw out your weapons. Ten seconds. Even if you keep one gun, we’ll kill her—along with Gerta, Luna…” She rattled off some civilian leaders’ names and began counting down. “Hurry. Ten, nine…”

Su Ling watched as the first gun was tossed out, clattering toward No. 55. No. 55 caught it deftly. “Good.”

Then the second, the third…

Su Ling bowed her head in agony.

Not everyone in the Ninth Fortress knew how to use a gun. Not everyone was a tough-minded, quick-reacting warrior. The first to throw down her weapon was a woman who wasn’t particularly brave.

Su Ling couldn’t blame her. It was she who’d declared the Ninth Fortress a place for the weak to exist.

But without weapons—without fangs—they could only be held hostage. Even if Ide arrived, it would change nothing.

Faced with captured residents, Ide would be shackled too, forced to bow her back.

Su Ling lifted her head. This time, she finally looked straight at Lola.

Lola still stood at her side—or rather, at the side of her First Fortress comrades.

Noticing Su Ling’s gaze, Lola looked away at the ground. Her voice remained unchanged: “Professor Su, please don’t trust others so easily from now on.”

Su Ling didn’t rage. She simply asked, “Is there a ‘from now on’?”

Lola’s nails dug into her flesh. She kept her head down, knowing those gentle hands would never rest on her head again. “You should’ve suspected me sooner.”

“When I brought you back, I did suspect you,” Su Ling said, averting her eyes. “But I chose to believe you. It was my misjudgment. I’ve failed the Ninth Fortress.”

She blamed no one but herself—not even Lola. This cracked Lola’s calm facade, twisting her features in profound pain.

Su Ling ignored Lola now, turning her gaze to the civilians inside. Their eyes met in silent communion, like a herd of elephants exchanging infrasound waves below human hearing—nothing spoken, yet volumes exchanged.

I was wrong, Su Ling thought. Some people aren’t worth saving.

She really shouldn’t trust so blindly. The Ninth Fortress was like a vacuum, starving malice of oxygen. But that didn’t mean everyone out there was kind and harmless. Humans were too complex for simple categories. Before this greenhouse fortress, only the ruthless and selfish survived—and their descendants.

I’d forgotten.

Su Ling said nothing more. Blood dripped from between her fingers to the ground. Then, in a spray of dust, the towering elephant launched its counterattack.

The guns all pointed at her couldn’t turn in time. Its trunk swept up several weapons, stomped toward their heads, and charged without slowing—its sharp tusks poised to impale Su Ling along with them.

The gunfire erupted again without warning.

Su Ling struggled fiercely.

I’d been wrong.

She couldn’t hide behind anyone. The Ninth Fortress couldn’t cower behind others to survive this crisis. When they were captured, when they showed vulnerability, enemies would trample them without mercy. She recalled her argument with Ide that day. She regretted it now. She had no right to criticize Ide. When insulted and invaded, you had to strike back—recklessly.

The tusk pierced her shoulder, tearing away the fabric there and knocking No. 08 back. Su Ling snatched up a gun from the ground and fired at No. 55 amid the chaos. She’d spotted the massive threat of this woman’s Innate Talent.

She’d neglected her training; killing wasn’t her strength. With the little elephant shot earlier, her aim wavered. But she endured the pain, fulfilling her command and combat duties.

She needed to fight. She should fight.

The crowd behind her surged forward in that instant, trying to reach her.

Su Ling didn’t flee toward them. Ignoring No. 08’s explosion warning, she charged at No. 55 and No. 08 in a suicidal rush.

The enemies had used her to force the Ninth Fortress residents to drop their guns—but she would pick one up.

If her survival hindered victory, then better to die, removing the weakness for everyone and Ide.

There would be pain, like surgery. But after healing, it’d be fine.

In that instant, Su Ling fully grasped the Thorn Lamp’s self-sacrificial creed.

Only by standing on the battlefield, facing life’s brutal brink with no one to rely on, did she realize: this wasn’t just Ide’s doctrine. It was the instinctive belief of every Thorn Lamp in their final moments.

Wrong again.

A ferocious explosion roared past Su Ling’s ear. Big Blade Scar had weighed the odds and chosen to kill. The blast shattered her eardrums, temporarily deafening her. The scene before her lost all sound—the elephant’s roar, her comrades’ shouts, all vanished.

The wounds on her body throbbed like the growth pains of awakening her Nestsoul as a child—fervent, heroic, brilliant, precious pains sweeping over her once more.

The elephant ahead bellowed wildly, growing even taller. Fueled by rage and courage, it trampled the enemies. On the verge of collapse, it wielded terrifying destructive power. The gate rattled under its assault. As it stepped back, No. 55 slid slowly down along the gate.

Su Ling had nearly forgotten: elephant herds possessed horrific combat prowess.

The dying No. 55 fired her final shot at Su Ling in her last moments. Su Ling had no time to defend; she’d turned to kill No. 08, abandoning her guard.

The bullet closed in. A lithe, slender figure leaped forward, shoving Su Ling aside and taking the bullet for her.

The round punched through Lola’s abdomen, detonating behind her.

Lola’s usually expressionless face now twisted with complex emotions. She wanted to laugh out loud. But she didn’t—just a faint twitch at her lips, almost invisible. She’d struggled for so long, finally heeding her true heart.

Regrettably, this choice plunged her into the abyss. Even if she survived by some miracle, death was her only refuge now.

“Lola!” Two voices shouted simultaneously—one from No. 08, one from Su Ling.

No one could afford to pursue it. No. 08 quickly realized the situation had spiraled irreversibly out of control. She unleashed Explosive Propulsion on a massive scale, going all-in for a slaughter, mirroring Su Ling’s self-destructive fury.

Su Ling abandoned the gravely wounded Lola, redirecting the elephant toward No. 08.

Behind her, the residents scooped up their dropped guns.

Brave yet clumsy, they pitched in. Logistics directed them to follow the elephant and provide covering fire. The assistants she’d recruited charged at the forefront.

As sounds gradually returned amid the shouts, Su Ling recognized her final mistake: the Ninth Fortress wasn’t as she and Ide had claimed—doomed to leaderless chaos if the commander fell. She could be replaced. Asta could. An He, Heidi, the Thorn Lamps—every soul in the Ninth Fortress could step up.

They weren’t as strong as Ide, but they were united, without question.

As successive explosions shattered the ceiling, a blood-soaked Tundra Wolf burst through the broken gate, trailed by the surviving dozen Thorn Lamps.

“Professor Su!” Ide spotted the severely injured woman at once.

Su Ling leaned against the wall and looked up. In the firelight, she and Ide exchanged a fleeting glance. Both were equally battered, blood forging them stronger.

“You came,” Su Ling said quickly, brushing aside the hair blocking her view. She showed no plea for help, no joy—those gentle, resilient eyes locked unyieldingly on No. 08 and the remaining two foes.

The Thorn Lamps from both sides merged like molten iron, surging toward the invaders trampling their land.