War Has No Victors

The alchemist guild used their spiritual power to command the alchemical golems to attack.

Crafted with meticulous handcrafting, reinforced with special enchantments, made from the finest materials, and ingeniously designed, this piece is powered by arcane magic, with master engravings of runes that drive levers, gears, and bearings to generate powerful energy.

The mechanical war dog is agile and swift, moving like the wind across the battlefield. It has a small crossbow mounted on its back, equipped with five burst bolts and five poison cloud bolts.

The colossi are heavy and massive, with formidable defense and immense power. They can form defensive formations, launch ranged attacks, and absorb blood and mud to strengthen their bodies and resist magic.

Obsidian gargoyles also soared through the air, equipped with small alchemical bombs.

The Clockwork Warrior wielded four long, sharp blades, cutting through everything in his path with lightning speed.

The fixed turret winds its heavy bowstring, using a precise transmission system to load enchanted crossbow bolts. Large sights, equipped with precision aiming and deadly strikes, are locked onto the alchemical war chariot that is moving like a whirlwind.

This is an experimental weapon from the Mechanical Transmission School of the Twilight Moon Alchemy Military Science lineage.

Their goal was to create more powerful engines, more efficient transmission systems, lower prices, wider and more efficient production, and greater output, ultimately producing alchemical weapons that could replace flesh and blood, rather than supplementary branches of the current Royal Army.

In a climate where martial spirit prevailed and Continental Army honorism was Twilight Moon, such an idea was utterly heretical. To completely banish valiant elven warriors from the battlefield, leaving war to be fought by cold, metallic bodies and a bunch of alchemists hiding in the back, what use were battle-hardened officers and tirelessly skilled soldiers? What honor could such a war possibly hold?

Most importantly, this will lead to unemployment among soldiers and the loss of voice and social status for the vast majority of junior and middle-ranking officers, and even high-ranking generals—so go to hell, you motherfucker, get out of here, you big liar.

Therefore, from its inception, the Mechanical Transmission School encountered a great deal of cold shoulders, exclusion, and ridicule.

The mainstream alchemy military discipline inherits the fine traditions of the Phoenix King Malegith's era and has been consistently praised and supported by the Royal Army, but it is only support. In terms of charging into battle, seizing victory and glory, the elven warriors are the eternal protagonists.

For a behemoth, reform and change are extremely painful processes.

Because the resistance and inertia are simply too great.

The leader of the Mechanical Transmission School, the alchemist Master Majes, has always been ostracized by his peers and neglected by the military. Even as an alchemist who attends the Arcane Council, he was forced to join the Goth Expeditionary Force to participate in this "real war exercise." He hoped to demonstrate the role of alchemical weapons in this war, which was not taken seriously by the Council, in order to attract the attention of some army generals.

Yes, this war launched against Goth was hardly taken seriously by the Dusk Moon Parliament. The disparity in national strength between the two countries was so great that no one doubted the outcome of the war.

Until Kang De's Mass Projection destroyed the five Dragon Banner Legion.

When the expeditionary force launched its offensive again, the staff officers realized from the battlefield reports that Kang De, as an alchemist, was also a formidable opponent. The unheard-of alchemical chariot was actually a terrifying war machine. The Cathayan by Kang De was not limited to the terrifying Forbidden Spell that could destroy armies and cities; he could easily destroy an army without even using that spell.

Out of the idea that "anyone will do, just send them up and try to stop that guy," Master Majes and his alchemical weapons were remembered.

They were deployed to the fourth and first line of defense, which consisted entirely of elven troops.

Such contempt and disdain could no longer anger Master Majes, because he had at least obtained reports on the previous battles and even earlier, as well as information on the results and intelligence of Kang De's alchemical chariot.

The content both excited and terrified him.

This also prompted him to agree to the conscription and go to the battlefield.

Because he realized that the alchemical chariot might hold the light of the next era.

This light might be the light ahead of the path he has trudged through so far, or it might be the light of a completely different path. He was terrified of both possibilities. The former meant that the Cathayan had already far surpassed him, while the latter might even negate the path he had chosen in his life.

After all, even his most prized work couldn't single-handedly defeat an army.

But he still came.

Having heard about such alchemical weapons, how could I not come and see them for myself and try them out?

So he came.

The battlefield was filled with the smell of blood and gunpowder, and the pungent odor was accompanied by roaring sounds as the strangely shaped alchemical war chariot traversed the battlefield.

The alchemist Majes gazed at the shadow of war.

Subsequent descriptions and reports are far less real and useful than firsthand observation. At least when Majes saw the shape of the alchemical chariot, he suddenly had some inspiration and became thoughtful.

He realized almost immediately that the shape of this tank was not just the designer's preference, but rather the culmination of countless experiences and wisdom, which made his heart sink.

The weapons mounted and raised on various parts of the tank made him smell blood and death.

The flames continued, and the explosions continued.

The high-speed metal arrows whistled through the air, and he saw an array of heavy shield soldiers being easily torn apart. Looking at the huge bloody holes and mangled internal organs bursting open behind each soldier, he understood why the tips of the metal arrows were not made sharp.

This was enough to make him even more shocked and terrified.

The power of tanks and weapons stems from ingenious craftsmanship. Countless arrows with almost identical workmanship may be due to countless human efforts, but the small design details at the top of the arrow are not the result of genius or inspiration, but rather the accumulation of experience after countless bloody deaths and brutal killings.

Cathayan Kang De, the man from Aurora... was he really from Cathayan?

What exactly happened in Cathay?

Various thoughts flashed through his mind, but the war was urgent, the battlefield was ever-changing, and the killing intent was overwhelming. The alchemist had no time to think carefully; he had to command the battle and confront this formidable enemy.

To verify some things.

And to prove it to this Cathayan.

To prove the power, will, and honor of the elves.

Perhaps their strength is slightly insufficient, but they still have the courage to fight against powerful enemies.

Obsidian gargoyles swooped down from the sky, mechanical warhounds charged from both flanks, ballistae aimed autonomously, colossi slammed their fists, lifted boulders, their bodies shrouded in mud, and clockwork warriors and puppets lined up, ready to attack.

Master Majes' eyes shone brightly, and with a flick of his finger, he unleashed his war machine.

The massive, heavy supply wagon lowered its cargo platform, the canvas was lifted, and a huge, bronze-yellow sphere, as tall as two men and engraved with magical patterns on its surface, rolled down with a thunderous roar and flashed with intense magical light, heading towards the high-speed alchemical war chariot.

The command horn sounded, the remaining soldiers scattered, and the alchemy troops under Master Majes spread out on both flanks. The huge bronze ball spun wildly, unstoppable, charging forward.

The Humvee turned to meet the bronze sphere, its cannons opened fire, and a hail of bullets rained down. However, Majes' mind was like a wheel, and his Magic Power propelled the bronze sphere to constantly shift its position. Its surface spun rapidly, and a whirlwind of cold air swirled around it. The densely packed bullets, like a meteor shower, were constantly deflected and deflected, sparks Mars everywhere.

"Records state that shaftless crossbow bolts pierce through armor with extreme speed and power, but they are not without weaknesses. Lacking a shaft and fletching, they lack sufficient enchantment space, making their trajectory susceptible to interference and weakening by wind magic. They are less stable than refined arrows, and are particularly effective against atmospheric shield spells. They are still effective against heavy armor, but the specific armor configuration still needs experimentation... They are not indestructible; at the very least, dodging and hiding are necessary..."

An apprentice was taking shorthand notes beside him, and Majes kept talking, his eyes shining even brighter.

In an instant, the bronze ball roared towards them. Just as the two were about to collide, the alchemical chariot turned its wheels, drifted and spun to avoid the bronze ball. But just as the two brushed past each other, Majes's surprise attack began.

The magic runes shone brightly, and the tightly fitted copper sphere suddenly sprang open, its top blooming like a lotus flower. Its massive body unfolded and stood up, resembling a hero's statue. Its left arm was a ballista carrying ten heavy explosive bolts, while its right arm was a propelling Warhammer powered by water-based three-state conversion.

The Centurion War Armor, in its ramming mode, is a massive bronze sphere that charges back and forth with unstoppable force. In its killing mode, the upper body is a humanoid mechanical war puppet, while the lower body is a high-speed mobile hemisphere.

The two sides passed each other, and the Centurion instantly transformed into battle form. This was a long-planned surprise attack. The alchemical weapon raised its Warhammer, turned its direction, and smashed it down on the top of the alchemical chariot.

Meanwhile, the alchemists, who had practiced with their leader and mentor for a long time, simultaneously manipulated their respective alchemical weapons. Warhounds fired explosive crossbow bolts, gargoyles dropped small bombs, colossi smashed rolling stones, fixed turrets fired heavy crossbows, and clockwork warriors and puppets crouched low, wielding their weapons, and launched a high-speed attack.

This is a decisive and unstoppable combined attack.

Alchemists yearn to make their mark here.

With such coordinated attacks and surprise strikes, they were confident that the enemy would find it difficult to resist.

But just then, the sounds of machinery roared in.

The outer shell of the alchemical chariot suddenly popped open.

The next moment, the front of the car slammed into the ground, the rear soared into the air, and the car body expanded in mid-air. The cold and complex thousands of parts reassembled and meshed with amazing posture and speed. Hydraulic propulsion, engine roar, gears meshed, bearings turned, and the Transformers separated its hands, pressed them against the ground, pushed off with all its might, and leaped again, dodging the deadly crossbow bolt. The alchemical bomb exploded behind it.

With a twist of his waist and a twist of his legs, Horus completed a somersault, landing on his knees with his arms outstretched at a 135-degree angle, fully armed. His left hand held a 30mm rapid-fire tank cannon, his right a rotary grenade launcher, and the six-barreled M61A1 Vulcan cannon on his shoulder began to hum and spin.

The roar of artillery fire filled the air.

The three hurled boulders exploded in mid-air, sending debris flying. The Vulcan cannon swept across the sky, shattering the five gargoyles in mid-air. The 30mm rapid-fire cannon opened fire on the fixed crossbow turret, instantly shattering and collapsing it. Grenade launchers flew everywhere like a shower of flowers, covering the war dogs, clockwork warriors, and puppets.

Horus then retracted the wheeled grenade launcher in its right hand, the module on its back popped open, it grabbed the door-sized greatsword, gripped the throttle on the hilt, flames swirled around it, burning brightly, and turned to charge at the oncoming Centurion War Armor. On their way to charge, the two war machines simultaneously raised their left-hand ranged weapons, heavy crossbows and rapid-fire cannons flashing, their massive bodies passing each other.

After witnessing the alchemical chariot transform into human form, Majes was almost stunned on the spot.

Even though it was a battlefield, a time of intense fighting, with lives constantly falling and danger looming, the alchemist still trembled involuntarily, his mind going completely blank.

After witnessing that moment, he almost lost the ability to think.

"O gods..."

This was the common reaction of the otherworldly beings who witnessed Horus's transformation up close.

That cold, orderly, steel, and mechanical ultimate expression almost represents the supreme beauty of industry. Every structure, every transmission, every gear, the combustion of the turbine, the propulsion of the lever, together endow steel with spirit and machinery with power. It is the end of the road, the ultimate of everything.

His proud Centurion, mechanical warhound, and clockwork warrior were all masterpieces developed with mechanical transmission as their core, through ingenious calculations and deductions, and powered by magical energy... He adhered to the Mechanical Transmission School until today, but now he sees an unreachable peak.

The works that one is proud of are like the most clumsy toys in front of this steel giant.

"This road..." he murmured, "Is the right one..."

The mental pain jolted him awake. The two giants passed each other, locked in a fierce confrontation. Majes took a deep breath. Facing this unprecedented and despairing enemy, the Centurion raised his weapon once more.

Magic roared, gears turned, emitting a low hum, and the metal bodies clashed and collided once more.

Sparks flew, guns roared.

Clearly, the elven alchemical weapons were at a disadvantage. Horns sounded from the command platform, banners waved, and the elven army redeployed, preparing to launch an offensive.

The battle then continued for another twenty-two minutes.

Corpses littered the ground, and the air reeked of burning flesh. Majes lay on his back, staring at the clear sky, his face deathly pale. His spirit had been severely wounded. His battle had ended in two minutes, not because Horus had directly killed the Centurion, but because, one minute and fifty seconds into the engagement, he saw the Cathayan Kang De silently appear at the feet of the two giants, surrounded by a ghostly light.

At that moment, the Iron Giant swung his greatsword, clashing with the Centurion's Warhammer. Both exerted force simultaneously, resulting in a stalemate. Just then, Majes saw the Cathayan reach out and touch the Centurion's hemispherical motor. The next moment, he disappeared along with the Centurion.

Also disappearing was the increasingly close spiritual connection between Majes and the Centurion. For the alchemist who was immersed in the Battle Capital and whose spiritual resonance was becoming increasingly intense, this was tantamount to having his soul slashed. It almost instantly and severely damaged his spirit, causing him to suffer a serious backlash and lose his ability to move.

He simply lay on his back on the ground, staring blankly at the sky, refusing any help from his students and subordinates. He heard the incessant roars of the enemy weapons firing, and the continuous horns, the orders to continue the attack. His battle was over, but the whistling of magic and arrows, the war cries of the elves, and the thunder of iron cavalry never ceased.

But it was ultimately severed.

It lasted for about twenty minutes.

It lasted longer than the previous three battles combined.

This time, their opponents were no longer the vassal army, but the regular elven forces. They did not panic and flee despite the heavy casualties and incomprehensible attacks. Instead, they launched attacks relentlessly, wave after wave, until the last elf fell, covered in blood.

Even after achieving a substantial victory and attempting to leave, some surviving elves struggled to draw their bows and shoot arrows at them, chanting spells, while fallen soldiers repeatedly rose from pools of blood, regrouping, and the battle continued. Kang De ordered Horus to cover the battlefield with white phosphorus bombs.

He trudged through the muddy, blood-stained soil, his steps uneven, until he reached Majes.

Full of youthful vigor, yet also lingering fatigue and agitation.

Defeating an army is one thing, annihilating an army that is collapsing and fleeing is another, and wiping out an army that has been attacking with unwavering momentum and a willingness to die is yet another.

The pressure on the attackers is increasing.

"What... is going on with you guys?"

His voice grew lower and lower, his eyes bloodshot, and he glared at Majes, muttering, "Why don't you run? Do you know what you're doing?"

Majes looked at the Cathayan, who was younger than he had imagined, and asked softly, "Who are you?"

Kang De stared at him, and he stared back at Kang De.

"There's no way Cathay could have such a thing, otherwise they wouldn't have been defeated, otherwise they would have unified the world long ago..." The alchemist murmured, staring at Kang De, "Who are you? Who exactly are you?"

"I am..."

Kang De stared at him calmly, his eyes filled with a palpable killing intent, radiating an aura of calm yet madness. He fought for over twenty minutes, until he killed the last standing elf.

Horus fired white phosphorus bombs, the intense flames burning the exposed limbs, and then sprayed thickened gasoline, causing the Flame to burn fiercely and annihilating any possible resistance.

Behind Kang De was a blazing fire, with thick black smoke from the burning corpse.

"I'm just a human being who wants to wipe you all out. Your courage, resilience, and tenacity have been misplaced. This is Goth's land. You're all bastards. I'm the one who will punish you."

Majes blinked, then gave a bitter smile.

"I see."

He said.

The mission is complete.

Having faced the enemy head-on, he witnessed the courage of the elves, confirmed the light on the path ahead, and realized that he had followed the right path. Now, it was time to complete his final mission.

The light of the next era should not be held in human hands.

A subtle glint flashed in his eyes.

During this period, his internal organs, Magic Power, and even the long and abundant life force of the elves had been transformed into a living alchemical bomb, and his life had come to an end.

A figure flashed through my mind.

I'm sorry, I can't go back.

The surging energy within him had been suppressed to its limit.

Then, a hand was placed on his face.

Kang De's cold gaze met his.

The next moment, a violent and terrifying spiritual force descended upon Majes' body, enveloping his entire being and restraining the raging power. Then, the alchemist felt his soul being grasped and crushed by a giant hand. Everything about him was exposed to fate, annihilated, strangled, and painfully dissipated.

Radiance flowed from the master's eyes, absorbed by Kang De's eyes. The shattered fragments of the soul merged the most essential and proudest skills into the Fire Thief's soul, along with a fragment of the most profound memory before death.

A beautiful, innocent, and shy figure lingers in my mind, never fading away.

After a long while, Kang De slowly stood up. Behind him, the battlefield was filled with smoke Flame, and billowing black smoke columns shot into the sky, condensing and refusing to disperse, like a dark curtain of sky.

Are there no winners in war?

He asked the Sword Saint Cascading Snow a question, but the latter could not answer.

A Xing hugged Kang De and whispered, "How about we go back to the island and leave this place behind?"

Kang De slowly shook his head.

So A Xing and the Sword Saint Cascading Snow quickly rested, while Horus rushed across the battlefield, dragging over several cartloads of supplies. "Father, I've found these."

The canvas was pulled back; those were alchemical golems, like mechanical war dogs, probably backup replacements.

Kang De's eyes flashed, and one of the mechanical war dogs twitched, then slowly stood up.

"Take it back; it might come in handy."

After the Sword Saint Cascading Snow had finished resting, Hilmeria looked at Kang De's silent face, paused for a moment, and said, "Teldrassil owes you, and I don't know how I can ever repay it."

Kang De glanced at her only before shattering space and returning to the White Mist World.

Then, without stopping, they reversed the flow of time and arrived on Earth.

A gust of yellow sand blew, and the dry air rushed towards him. He stood atop the mountain, looking down. Horus stood beside him, his voice low and deep. "Father..."

"How can I look my father in the eye? Why did I go to this lengths for Goth?"

Kang De's tone was wooden.

He had previously drifted in another world and experienced war, killing countless people. That was a different life, and he thought he had gotten used to it. But when he reunited with his family and was looked at by his father with worry, disappointment, unease, and pain, he realized just how different he had become.

Was it worth it for Goth?

"I didn't know. You are my father, and you also have a father," Horus said slowly. "You said you had your father to discipline you..."

"Perhaps it would be better for them to think I'm dead than for them to be like this... Horus, I was wrong. No son wants to be disciplined by his father."

Kang De rubbed his face, and then the grim and gloomy expression on his face disappeared.

A relaxed and peaceful smile appeared on his face.

He slid down the mountain, entered the cave, broke through the barriers, reached the depths, and embraced his father.

"It's alright now, let's continue on our way to rescue our mercenary friends."

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PS1: 6,000 words.

PS2: Ugh, writer's block is so painful... I haven't slept well these past two days, and it's even more difficult to write. But the rest of the story will be incredibly exciting, and the final emotional build-up is almost complete.