Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1251 The Final Battlefield - Part 1 (First Update)

The further they went, the more mutated monsters they encountered. The stench of extradimensional energy emanating from them nearly suffocated the knights, fueling their fighting spirit with rage. These snake-men were diverse, and Aparishia's power armor quickly identified some of the species the vanguard had previously encountered. Some were mutated humans, while others had crossed the veil of reality to reach this world. The latter were extremely highly mutated; the giant snake-men that had protected Dr. Pedro Domiggs were everywhere, and even the strongest knights needed considerable effort to slay these monsters.

The monsters surging in from all directions like a tidal wave were repelled by the knights' barrage of fire, but it didn't take long for these creatures to reappear, even more mutated—the best way to distinguish between mutated, corrupted human snake-men and extradimensional snake-men was to kill them and observe whether the corpses would decompose and dissolve in a very short time. The small lessons learned in battle did little to ease the knights' burdens, for they faced a scene of utter despair. The hellish road leading to Quetzalcoatl, stretching for tens of kilometers, was teeming with monsters. No one knew whether the knights had more ammunition or the monsters outnumbered them, because the massive steam currents formed by the floodwaters crossing the mountains and merging with lava covered the entire battlefield. Everyone had to fight in the thick fog, and visibility ten meters away could only be seen through electronic eyes.

Everyone fought on corpses, the blood of genetically modified warriors and mutated creatures soaking their feet, cooling the lava. Even their breathing filtration systems couldn't dispel the sulfurous stench in the air. The knights had long been coordinated through a command chain formed by the communication system within their powered armor; discipline and organization were etched into their souls, allowing them to fight with order even when suffering over 30% casualties. However, their enemies were not simply organic creatures. Many snake-men had grown colorful wings and shed their limbs, using their magical wings to soar and dance with astonishing, aerodynamic agility in the boiling air, relentlessly attacking fighters and gunships descending from suborbital space, and sometimes even swooping down from the sky to attack the knights on the ground.

Even worse were the snake-men wielding staffs. Although the knights encountered no more than five in the twenty-minute battle, each snake-man sorcerer inflicted heavy casualties on them. Their armor turned to stone, or they were struck by unseen sonic waves, their internal organs shattered. Normally, explosive shells fired at the snake-man sorcerers were blocked by strange magic; only sufficient firepower and courage could break through the barrier. Killing each snake-man sorcerer took the knights nearly three minutes.

The knights spontaneously organized tactical support squads and heavy armored vehicles into an anti-aircraft fire network. On this stormy night, beneath the clouds tinged red by heat radiation, thousands of burning stars plummeted from the sky. Aparisha heard agonizing cries coming through the communication channel, but still took a step forward, stepping over the mangled corpse of a knight, and wielding his execution axe to smash the twisted, mutated body before him. His explosive rifle was already empty, and reports from the tactical squads continued to fly past him.

"Brother!" he shouted. "Lieutenant Nixon! Brother, cover fire!"

There was no response. Still no response. Only when the artillery was fully loaded and the barrage of fire had turned the solidified rock back into lava did Aparisha have a chance to look back. He saw his adjutant lying on the scorching rock, the blood flowing from his mutilated limbs rapidly evaporating and drying, his genetically modified organs desperately trying to stop the bleeding, his brain subconsciously commanding his lungs to contract and expand, increasing the blood oxygen concentration. Even though his adjutant had fallen, the battle flag symbolizing the First Company's military achievements remained firmly planted in the soft lava, standing tall.

Anger, regret, and other emotions quickly welled up, but these emotions also disappeared just as quickly.

Medics rushed to help, carrying the adjutant into a field medical vehicle converted from a heavy armored car. The company commander's helmet-covered face remained largely expressionless. He continued to remain silent, then used a brief lull in the fighting to adjust the succession order in the chain of command—a task he had performed many times, each time meaning a battle-hardened knight was rendered incapacitated. But this time was far more perilous. His troops had advanced too far, breaking out of the armored units' cover; the mutated creatures' claws could even reach his powered armor. All this stemmed from his excessive haste in implementing the Emperor's advance strategy. His uncontrollable rage, intoxicated by slaughter, had prevented him from promptly filling the fire channels left by the Emperor and the Royal Guard as the vanguard.

He will repent, but not now.

Aparisha knew he had no time for mourning. He didn't know if his lieutenant would survive, or even if he could still fight. Battle and death were inevitable parts of every knight's life, but Aparisha hoped that one day he could lie on blood-stained ground and die a glorious death.

Even after stepping onto this road paved with lava, it is still more than ten kilometers away from Quetzalcoatl.

Just as Aparishia took a deep breath, preparing mechanically to receive the next order for attack and advance, the serpent-men's attack was delayed. The mutated creatures, gripped by fear and panic, dared not advance, huddling together to keep as far away from the Emperor as possible. Compared to the colossal Quetzalcoatl, all distances seemed insignificant, but to the knights, the Emperor, riding a pure white horse and wielding a holy sword, exuded an aura far greater and more intense than Quetzalcoatl in the sky. Many saw the Emperor fighting alongside them; whenever a knight was caught in a fierce battle, the Emperor and his Royal Guard would always appear with jet-powered motorcycle squadrons, traversing the battlefield to repel the offensive. Many more of the knights' jet-powered assault motorcycles, guided by their programming, plummeted from suborbital altitudes. A few were intercepted and shot down by the flying serpent-men, but most landed on the ground under the cover of fighter planes and gunboats.

This is a charge.

Aparisha was deeply ashamed of his unfounded suspicions. He summoned all the main battle tanks, armored vehicles, hovercraft, and hover assault boats that were still mobile, as well as all the tactical squad knights who had not yet been assigned a mission, regardless of their original organization. They all boarded their vehicles and assembled behind the emperor, forming the army for the final assault. The emperor rode his pure white steed past the battered armored forces, waiting amidst the artillery fire for all the knights to gather on the corpses of the mutated creatures. He merely nodded to the knights, whose armor was damaged and whose limbs were missing, and this simple gesture was enough to restore the confidence of the genetically modified warriors.

"We have not failed yet, and no one can deny our efforts." The Emperor removed his helmet, his eyes, filled with supernatural power, gazing upon his warriors. Even the falling rocks and burning ashes from the corpses could not obscure his radiance, which enveloped him like a cloak. Every knight who had come into contact with the Emperor could see that he was now vastly different from the Emperor before the war. He was more powerful, more holy, more... incomprehensible, as if a star in the void had been enveloped by a mortal body. Though one could not feel his heat physically, one could not look him in the eye spiritually. Aparisha knew more. He knew that the Emperor wanted to lead them into hell, to dig honor from the corpses of the enemy, to forge the spirit of the future race through sacrifice and courage.

"We wield our blades for the survival of the human race; we have not yet failed. True failure is dying meaninglessly, allowing the evil of humanity to gnaw at our honor and erode the peace we created. As long as we stand here, guns and swords in hand, we have not failed!"

The emperor raised his holy sword, and its dazzling light pierced through the thick fog.

Immediately afterwards, a ruby-red beam of light descended from the sky, its immense heat dissipating the clouds and thick smoke. The colossal creature emerging from the clouds cast its shadow, its scales shattered, its flesh evaporated, and a sound incomprehensible to humans visibly spread out.

"Fight or die!" The emperor turned his horse around and led his royal guards into the thick fog. Light guided the knights, and they followed in his footsteps into the final battlefield.

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(End of this chapter)