Chapter 432: The Call of Fire

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Lister, the steadfast commander of the garrison troops, navigated the chaotic battlefield of the harbor district’s core. Amidst the turmoil, his primary mission was to keep the port’s critical functions operational despite the relentless barrage of an attack that seemed to come from another dimension.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn away from the battle to the city-state. Confusion and surprise spread across his rugged, battle-worn face.

Out of nowhere, strange, warped structures began to emerge from the city’s heart. The once-regular streets shuddered and twisted, transforming into a perplexing, paradoxical urban landscape. The distant terrain distorted in eerie, unnatural ways, with a ghostly curtain-like illusion stretching across the mountains. Chaotic, multicolored lights cascaded from this spectral illusion, creating a bizarre, spine-chilling scene. Amidst this grim spectacle, a peculiar phenomenon occurred—a delicate, ghostly “dust” began to fall from the sky.

This ethereal dust, like a specter floating in the air, drifted gently down like the first snow of winter. Each particle swirled through the tangled illusions and the alien streets, finally resting on the frost-kissed cobblestones below—insubstantial as a dream yet seemingly endless in its descent.

Wherever this mystical dust landed, the blurry city-state, shrouded in illusions, seemed to regain some of its original clarity. Although transient and minimal, Lister noticed the emerging distinctions between the real streets and the illusory ones.

However, in the escalating heat of battle, there was no time to contemplate this mysterious phenomenon or dwell on his own looming fate. Instead, the harsh cries of steam-powered walkers and the deafening roars of coastal defense guns violently snapped him out of his contemplation, pulling him back into the stark reality of the battlefield.

“We must drive these abominations away from the dock area!” His voice echoed through the stone-lined corridors and hastily erected barricades, rallying his soldiers and subordinate commanders. “The fuel depot and ammunition conduits must remain operational! The port cannot fall!”

A thick cloud of gun smoke hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid stench of blood, engine oil, and the dry, mud-caked earth. The defensive lines wavered as a steam-powered walker fell to the onslaught, quickly replaced by the next mechanized steam walker, determined to hold the line at all costs.

Behind the defensive line, teams of dedicated individuals hustled among the damaged dock facilities, working tirelessly to keep the heart of the harbor beating.

From a high vantage point, Lister assessed the situation at the dock. The monstrous enemy horde surged forth from the fog in staggering numbers, threatening to claim the port as their territory. He and his men fought back bravely, forming protective lines on the city-state roads and demonstrating resilience in the face of overwhelming odds.

Based on their latest communications, Frost’s last bastion was this single functioning port. All other harbors were either engulfed in savage battles, overwhelmed by the enemy, or rendered completely unusable due to extensive infrastructure damage.

Lister understood the gravity of the situation—the port had to remain operational at all costs. The maritime defenses were barely holding together, teetering on the verge of annihilation. Without this one remaining coastal artery, the city-state’s naval forces would be doomed to destruction.

However, an unnerving question loomed—could they hold their ground as the grotesque, distorted city-state steadily advanced into their realm?

His eyes surveyed the abhorrent, cancerous land that had sprouted from the city-state—a relentless, spreading blight ominously creeping towards the port. With a heavy, sinking feeling, he tore his gaze away from the sight and returned to the strategic epicenter of their defense operations—the bustling command post.

Inside the command post, a scene of organized chaos unfolded. Officers and staff hustled in a whirlwind of activity, grim news streaming in from every direction. The constant drone of communication devices filled the air, and the palpable tension in the room reflected their urgent predicament.

In one corner, a weary communications soldier hunched over his radio. His voice was raspy and strained from continuous broadcasting: “Attention all vessels near the coast, this is East Port. We remain operational, I repeat, we are still operational—this is the only safe harbor for resupply. Steer clear of other ports…”

Unfazed by the pandemonium around him, Lister approached one of his subordinates. “What’s the current situation at the supply dock?”

“The ‘Laurel’ is reloading and repairing its ammunition elevator. Its sister ship is powerless, being tugged back by a barge. We have a decent stockpile of ammunition, fuel, and freshwater. But the crane at Dock 4 is gone. It’s completely incapacitated…”

Lister absorbed the information, his face tight with concern. Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps broke his concentration. A frazzled officer rushed to his side. “Sir, we have a situation…”

“Situations are a dime a dozen,” Lister responded sharply. “Speak up!”

“Sir, a vessel from the Mist Fleet is requesting permission to dock for urgent repairs,” the officer stammered, his face a canvas of mixed emotions. “The undead onboard reported their transmission mechanism is malfunctioning, and their onboard repair equipment can’t handle it.”

A pregnant silence filled the room as Lister digested the news. Finally, with a set jaw, he ordered, “Grant them permission and assist with the repairs immediately.”

“Understood, sir.”

As the subordinate took his leave, Lister pivoted towards the window, studying the situation unfolding at sea.

A battleship, cloaked in smoke and bearing the scars of war, slowly inched its way towards the repair dock. Proudly flying from its bow was the flag of the Frost Queen, a symbol long absent from these waters. Out at sea, evidence of innumerable brutal conflicts floated aimlessly, testifying to the harsh realities of the ongoing war.

“Half a century… The flag finally makes its return to Frost… yet under such harrowing circumstances…” Lister murmured to himself, a trace of sorrow lacing his words.

His melancholic musings were abruptly interrupted by a sudden flurry of activity from the hallway.

“What’s the situation now?” He quickly turned and raised his voice, beckoning for an update.

A soldier, his face a mixture of nerves and embarrassment, hastily reported: “Sir! We have two… civilians, two young girls. We’re unsure how they slipped past our defenses, but they’re insistent on speaking with you…”

“Civilians? They should be relocated to…” Lister began, but before he could complete his thought, a wave of noise cascaded in from the hallway, punctuated by the high-pitched shout of a youthful female voice.

“Make way, everyone! Time is of the essence! We’re running out of time!”

Caught off guard, Lister glanced up to see two young girls burst through the blockade of soldiers and tumble into the command center.

The first was a petite figure clad in a simple black cotton dress. Despite her diminutive size, she demonstrated remarkable strength, effortlessly shoving two burly soldiers out of her path. Her taller companion, wearing a rustic brown coat and matching cotton dress, seemed notably anxious.

Both appeared barely seventeen years old, with the smaller one looking even younger.

“Evacuate immediately,” Lister commanded without hesitation, his tone tinged with annoyance. “This is no place for childish pranks. If you’ve lost track of the other refugees, then…”

“You’re the one in charge, right? We’ve got an urgent matter,” the slender girl cut him off. “Is there a quiet spot nearby? We need to start a fire…”

“Start a fire?” Lister retorted, taken aback, before swiftly deducing that this was some misguided joke. He couldn’t comprehend why two unrelated civilians would create a disturbance at such a critical time. Yet, his professional instincts kicked into high alert. “Soldiers, seize them!” he barked.

Several soldiers immediately leaped into action, rushing to apprehend the girls. The smaller girl started to dart and weave. “We honestly have something of utmost importance! Any bare plot of land would do! You…”

Her words abruptly halted, her eyes widening as she peered out the window, as though she had made a shocking discovery.

“Hey! That spot over there is perfect! The entire boulevard is vacant, leading straight to the shoreline!” A triumphant leap punctuated the girl’s exclamation as she slipped from the soldiers’ grasp. She then turned to her companion. “Nina, you take that spot and add the two points we identified to the south earlier. That will be more than sufficient for this city!”

“Understood!” The young girl named Nina swiftly responded. Then, with an unexpectedly mature grace, she turned and executed a respectful bow in Lister’s direction, her face an interesting mixture of embarrassment and apology. “I’m sorry, Sir, my friend can be somewhat brash. We’ll take our leave now…”

Lister could only stare in dumbfounded bewilderment. The bizarre scenario playing out before him left him grappling with the surrealness of the situation. Nevertheless, his sense of duty compelled him to step forward. “Stop, you…”

However, he couldn’t finish his command as something even more astounding transpired.

Suddenly, the girl standing before him radiated an intense wave of heat. Before anyone could react, she metamorphosed into a dazzling stream of fire. The flame coursed across the room, its intense luminescence feeling as if it could set one’s very soul ablaze. In the next moment, the streak of fire darted towards an open window, aiming for a high platform in the port vicinity.

Still reeling in shock, Lister could only watch the bewildering scene unfold. But before he could even attempt to understand what was happening, the flaming entity returned to the room.

The incandescent trail arched towards him, reshaping itself into the silhouette of the girl. From within the searing pyre came a polite voice. “Thank you for defending the city. I must leave now! Farewell!”

With these words, the flaming silhouette shot out of the room once more.

“Farewell, goodbye!”

Meanwhile, the petite girl echoed the farewells, and in an instant, a swirling rift of shadows materialized beside her. The churning darkness within the rift swallowed her whole, causing her to vanish before everyone’s astonished gazes.

“What… What just happened…” Lister stood there, rooted in shock and disorientation. In a daze, he darted towards the open window, managing to glimpse a radiant streak shooting skyward.

Beneath this blazing trail, the coastline was awash with brilliant light… and then, unexpectedly, it burst into flames!

“The Frost coast is on fire!” From the crow’s nest of the Sea Mist, a skeletal sailor clutched the loudhailer and bellowed out the startling revelation.

Tyrian stood firm at the ship’s edge, a stoic sentinel, while the sea roiled with tumultuous waves and a biting wind swept over the deck. Reflected in his singular eye was the view of Frost’s coast, ablaze with multiple fires.

A brilliant flame danced in the city-state’s heavens, igniting the city’s desolate outskirts—towering cliffs, jutting sea rocks, abandoned towers, and ruined artillery emplacements. These burning landmarks gradually linked, forming a connected chain of beacons extending along the shoreline and into various points across the surrounding waters.

“Captain!” First Officer Aiden dashed forward, raising his voice to compete with the chaos. “The last oil barrel has been used up, and the encircling fire is dangerously close to our ship!”

“I understand,” Tyrian responded calmly, a slow, relaxed smile spreading across his weather-beaten face. “And what’s the situation with the Frost Navy?”

“They have indeed followed our instructions and set the surplus whale oil ablaze. However, they are in the dark about our plans. They’ve been blindly following orders in their state of confusion and are now demanding an explanation from us.”

“Explanation…” Tyrian repeated softly, lifting his hand to point slowly towards the sea, which was becoming more and more enveloped by an intensifying cloak of darkness.

“Aiden, how does this sea appear to you?”

Caught off guard for a moment, Aiden surveyed the waters surrounding them.

In the next instant, his expression gradually hardened, a hint of fear creeping into his features.

The surface of the sea had somehow become unnaturally calm, and the encroaching darkness had slowly transformed the entire sea into a mirror-like surface.

Fires were dancing in front of this mirror, stretching from the coast of Frost to the naval battle site. The series of fires… they resembled a line of candelabras placed before a mirror.

The sounds of waves and naval artillery from the sea seemed to fade abruptly. Everything felt incredibly distant as if it was emerging from another world. Amidst this haunting and temporary silence, Aiden heard his captain’s voice, barely louder than a whisper.

“My father once said, if you are in search of him, find a mirror and kindle a flame in front of it.”

Slowly, Tyrian spread his arms wide, facing the sea, which was gradually morphing into a pitch-black mirror.

“The fire is lit. Are you there?”

In the next moment, the entirety of the Frost region seemed to come alive.

“Yes, I am here.”

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