A Burial Mound

The remaining flames burned fiercely, the air was filled with the pungent smell of burnt flesh, the ground in the trenches was muddy from being soaked in blood, Marcus Fenn lay in the ditch with a piece of torn flesh stuck to his face, his eyes gazing at the faintly bright sky, his body covered with a thin layer of dirt.

From a distance, it looks like a newly built grave.

Before the darkness descended, this fine young man from Entuman County, north of the Council, had excitedly thought...

Let's teach Kang De a lesson!

He had been conscripted and secretly trained months ago to prepare for war. He knew that the enemy was Distant Harbor, the evil regime led by the Cathayan Kang De. The young men were overjoyed.

Because it means victory, it means military achievements, it means rewards and glory.

War? War is not terrible.

Because he was a soldier in the Arcane Council.

Poetry and drama always speak of the cruelty of war, of evil lords and emperors forcing poor men onto the battlefield, their families enduring the torment of whips and hunger, of men forced into service turning into blood and gore under the charge of knights—but those are stories that only happen in backward kingdoms. Marcus Fenn is confident in this, for he comes from the Arcane Council, from a great and prosperous nation.

The rumbling magical machines had entered the workshop, and the family could even afford cheap magic crystal lamps. Although they still had to be careful with the crystals, it was already very good. Delicious lamb cost only one silver coin per pound and could be eaten once every three days. Tea and fruit brought from the southern islands were placed on the table, and the young brother received pocket money for the first time. Life was so satisfying.

He became an honored soldier, and his future looked bright.

And war? War is a roar of courage and passion, a charge, a fierce battle supported by mages, where the enemy crumbles before the heavenly fire and frost, while our side advances bravely under the protection of auxiliary spells. Victory brings rewards, and becoming an officer brings even more benefits. War is nothing more than that.

With passion and loyalty, they fought bravely against the enemy, gained honor, and returned home with rewards and achievements.

Whether the enemy was a rebellious island nation in the south, an unyielding indigenous people in the east, or even the Cathayan from the north, it made no difference to him.

--It's true that Kang De was from Cathayan, yet he associated with Goth People. I really don't understand.

Under the Grand Speaker's orders, the army arrived at the battlefield. Instead of preparing for battle and waiting to charge, they dug canals and constructed underground facilities on the spot. Marcus, carrying his new weapon and holding a shovel, dug the soil and erected wooden pillars under the captain's command. This was something he had never done before, and it puzzled him greatly.

During meals, colleagues would sometimes speak mysteriously and uneasily, saying that they had heard Kang De knew a kind of magic called "Forbidden Spell."

As for what the "Forbidden Spell" was, he didn't know either. It might be some kind of powerful magic, but it didn't matter. The Arcane Council possessed the most powerful spells in the world, so it wasn't surprising.

He also heard that Kang De had defeated the elves, something he was familiar with. It was said that this legendary, incredibly handsome Cathay man from China had conquered the Elf Queen, which led her to order a retreat and the withdrawal of Goth.

The related scandalous rumors constituted his entire impression of the Cathayan, Kang De.

During the night, he and his comrades gathered together, sleeping in the dug trenches without tents, their heads covered with tarpaulins. They would casually crush any lice that crawled over them, crumple them into a ball, and throw them into the fire, where they would crackle softly and release a slightly burnt aroma like roasted rice.

Andrea said, "You can try this; roasted lice are delicious." Marcus rolled his eyes—lice as food might exist in his grandparents' memories, but it had nothing to do with the glorious Council Army. As a soldier, he ate beef, stew, and soft bread.

The group gathered around the fire, drinking sweet tea and singing and cheering. The day's hard work had not dampened the spirits of the young men. The battle had just begun, and the fighting had not yet begun. They had inexhaustible energy and courage.

Someone is shouting.

Let's teach Kang De a lesson!

Whistles and clumsy singing rose and fell. As the Grand Speaker had instructed, they were going to punish the warmongers who had unilaterally started the war and attacked the Tower of All-Seeing. As for victory... no one doubted it.

The soldiers indulged in unrestrained revelry and shouts until their officers urged them to sleep. The night was utterly still, and in the uncomfortable trenches, they drifted off to sleep until the sky was lit up.

A demonic howl echoed cruelly from the night sky overhead.

To awaken everyone from their final, beautiful dream.

They saw a huge fireball suddenly explode from the sky not far away, and strange objects like hailstones pounded the ground. A fierce storm swept across the land, knocking down several men who had climbed onto the edge of the trench. Thunderous roars filled the air, and the dark sky was torn apart by flashing Flame, with streaks of light refracting across the heavens.

He heard a clear roar carried on the wind, "Enemy attack—"

The soldiers sheltering in the trenches ran around in a chaotic mess. Some were awakened from their sleep, while others were stunned by the continuous explosions. Many brave men jumped out of the trenches with their weapons in hand, looking around to see where the enemy was coming from. But soon, many organs fell from the sky, landing on people's bodies and faces.

It's a nose, half a face, shattered fingers, and a thigh that's exploded from the middle.

This was followed by terrified screams.

A wave of reassuring aura descended, as officers tore open a scroll of morale-boosting measures and the emergency duty corps of mages began to stabilize morale.

Meanwhile, the dwarf instructor accompanying the team, despite his short legs, moved swiftly through the narrow trenches, shouting, "Don't panic! Get to the safe house! Move quickly!"

Marcus ran alongside his teammates in the dark night, amidst the explosions that seemed to illuminate the night sky with endless lightning, and the cacophony of screams from all directions. He dared not even think about what caused the dampness and stickiness spreading across his right shoulder... perhaps it was a bloody eyeball.

The sky... is raining down.

He only saw streaks of light shooting across the sky, and sharp elemental arrows raining down in dense bursts. As a former shield guard who had once defended the Arcane stronghold, he knew that it was an intercepting magic device at work.

A series of blazing fireballs exploded violently in the sky.

In countless battles, it was the powerful mages who manipulated these reliable magical artifacts to neutralize and intercept the enemy's large-scale spells and block the onslaught of enchanted heavy crossbows.

He firmly believed that this time, the powerful mages would still be able to protect them.

The ground beneath our feet was shaking violently.

A scorching wind even blew into the trenches.

Marcus stumbled along with his teammates.

He looked up in terror several times, watching the meteor-like Flame streak across the sky and crash to the ground, followed by terrifying tremors and earth-shattering roars, as if the end of the world had come and everything was burning.

The young sergeant suddenly felt a deep, bone-chilling fear.

Death is so close, all the beauty of life is behind you, and you stand at the forefront of fate, facing only the unknown and fear—perhaps the abyss of death, or perhaps survival in a desperate situation.

But whether he lives or dies, his honor and courage as a soldier have been extinguished, and he may never forget this hellish experience for the rest of his life... Only fear and anger will remain.

He finally realized that war is not a victory of honor, but a river of blood and death.

Suddenly, he felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer, as if a volcano had erupted nearby, the world seemed to stretch far away, his ears were filled with the sounds of wind and thunder, countless golden stars appeared before his eyes, black and white overlapped in his vision, his comrades in front of him screamed in pain and fell down, only Marcus staggered a few steps and stood still by the side wall.

He could vaguely see the dwarf instructor lying on the ground.

"Get down! Get down!"

The sound was intermittent, sometimes near, sometimes far.

"Put your arm..."

The dwarf was shouting in terror.

"Place it under your chest..."

Marcus didn't move; his mind had been taken over. He blinked laboriously, feeling something hot, flowing with liquid, and smelling fragrant as it was smeared on his face in the scorching wind.

Foolish and confused, a bewildered smile appeared on his face.

He suddenly remembered the mutton in his hometown, which cost a silver coin per pound and could be eaten every three days. Life had always been good; he had a respectable job, fought for justice, and fought against evil. The future was hopeful; as long as he fought, as long as he won, as long as he won again and again, he could gain more...

But why is that?

The next moment, the devil's maniacal laughter descended from above.

His bewildered and dazed face suddenly brightened, his vision filled with intense light.

A mushroom-shaped cloud of fire rose up in the distance, almost within sight.

He gazed in awe as a magnificent display of lights and fireworks soared before his eyes. He saw fire shimmering like the sun and smoke billowing like waves. All his fear, confusion, hesitation, and despair vanished instantly. All his longing, attachment, love, and reluctance were frozen in time. His life and soul were filled with the magnificence before him, and Marcus Fenn felt a warmth that filled him and illuminated everything.

Let the scythe of death whistle past.

An invisible shockwave swept through the trench, lifting his body like a rag doll and slamming it against the corner of the trench wall not far away. His upright figure appeared completely unharmed, but his fragile organs had been struck with the heaviest iron hammer. The body named Marcus Fenn fell limply to the ground, half of the collapsed mud wall crumbled down, and clods of earth rained down on him.

The soldier stared at the sky, his pupils reflecting the torrent of Flame streaking across the dark night.

After a very long time, the night faded, and a faint glimmer of dawn appeared in the east.

The still-burning flames burned in all directions. In this land, the morning was not foggy, but filled only with twisted smoke and the smell of death, rising and spreading.

Blood flowed, wetting the soil, and the "corpse" lying on the ground gradually began to move.

The man rose strangely, crawled numbly, and groped for blood-stained biscuits and jerky on the shattered corpse a few steps away. He mechanically put them into his mouth and chewed them instinctively. Startled rats scurried out from inside the corpse's clothes and ran along the inner wall of the trench, splashing water droplets in a puddle.

Hearing the sound of water, people instinctively turned around, scrambling to the puddle on all fours. Aerial bombs bombarded the area, causing a violent earthquake, explosions that tore the ground apart, and a small-scale rainstorm. Water gathered in the trenches, but it was filled with shattered corpses and churning blood. People ignored this, greedily bending down to bite and suck with their cracked lips.

A voice shouted from above, "Hey! Don't drink it!"

People turned around in bewilderment and saw more and more people appearing, and more and more people getting up, being helped, supported, lifted, and held up.

"Your Excellency the Grand Speaker..." an officer trotted up, gritting his teeth, and whispered, "Casualties..."

"I know, don't worry, reinforcements will return soon, your army will be replenished, we will have a chance for revenge, you can make up for everything you lost in Nar."

The Grand Speaker patted the shoulder of his subordinate. "Also, hold off on sending the death notices back for now. Clean up the battlefield as quickly as possible and calm the soldiers down. I'm counting on you."

After dismissing his loyal subordinates, the Grand Speaker's expression quickly turned cold.

"This is bad."

His gaze was cold as he surveyed the battlefield. He turned to Phaethon beside him and said, "Although the Deceleration Field greatly reduces the speed of Kang De's weapon attacks, making it easier for us to intercept them, if he wins with overwhelming numbers, a considerable number of his weapons will still break through the defenses and kill my soldiers. We need more efficient defensive weapons... and better defensive measures as well."

"Especially the destructive impact of the explosion triggering gaseous elements... we need better defense plans."

"Our soldiers are inexperienced, and orders are difficult to transmit quickly. It is said that Kang De possesses a magical device for instant communication, capable of delivering orders precisely to each individual soldier..."

Phaethon scoffed, "What a weak and shameful defeat."

Griffin's eyes flashed with anger, then he lowered his gaze, suppressing his rage.

He said calmly, "If Kang De can win decisively and defeat you and me, and the observers of other countries see this and report back to their countries, then after this battle, no country in the Mortal World will dare to oppose him."

The God of the Star Palace revealed a sinister expression and coldly said, "I understand."

How should we evaluate this so-called deity? Arrogant, haughty, disdainful of the Mortal World, and indifferent to everything, yet easily swayed and losing all sense of propriety when it comes to Kang De.

It's really easy to use.

The name "Kang De" is like a button; pressing it will immediately change his mind. He will actively promote and support anything that can undermine Kang De's will, and he will not hesitate to assist in anything that can hinder Kang De's goals and actions.

Griffin sneered inwardly, but said no more to him. He turned and returned to the underground bunker dug deep into the trenches, where observers from various countries were emerging one after another, their faces showing undisguised surprise and unease.

"It is my responsibility to put you all in danger."

Griffin's robes swayed slightly, his expression calm, and he smiled, "However, there's some good news... Although our soldiers suffered few casualties in the face of such an offensive, the Deceleration Field greatly reduced the threat of Kang De's alchemical weapon, causing most of his attacks to be intercepted and blocked in mid-air by the point-defense magic device."

"Although some attacks penetrated the defensive network and struck the positions, most of the magical devices remained intact. The soldiers had taken cover in advance, avoiding casualties. It proved that the earth was indeed perfect armor, and Kang De's massive attack demonstrated his incompetence and cowardice—launching an attack at night, meticulously planning, yet achieving little, and that was all."

He chuckled, "The so-called 'Dragon of Cathay' only launched one long-range attack before lying low. I thought he would take the opportunity to lead his army to launch a surprise attack on our positions... He's quite clever! He knew we would be on high alert and ready to counterattack at any moment, so he simply didn't come to avoid humiliation!"

Hearing the laughter, the observers joined in with a smile.

But after all, those dispatched were the best of the best in the armies of various countries. Although they did not speak, their eyes conveyed profound meaning.

--Are you kidding me?

--I already found it strange. They claimed to be punishing Kang De and mobilized a large army, but their tactics and objectives were nothing more than entering Goth's territory and starting to dig trenches for defense. They said they "didn't expect to reach Distant Harbor." How could a war planned from the beginning as a defense be won?

Griffin, seemingly oblivious, continued, "However, gentlemen, to be fair, there were casualties last night... But as you and I both know, military progress comes from bloodshed and sacrifice. Last night's casualties prove that trench design and soldiers' concepts still need improvement, including tactics..."

Against this backdrop of a flurry of repair, rescue, cleanup, and treatment efforts at the site, Grand Speaker Griffin Williams spoke eloquently.

He pointed to the trench that had been partially destroyed, to the blood and water pools that had accumulated in it, and spoke of the importance of reinforcing the structure and drainage, as well as the safe house to prevent heavy bombardment.

The smartly dressed, upright professional officers listened attentively to the Grand Speaker's detailed explanation, their eyes following the Grand Speaker's pointing finger as they looked at each piece of evidence, nodding thoughtfully.

Kang De's attack last night greatly shocked them. Real combat is the best teacher, and they began to believe in the importance of fortifications such as trenches, and their views quietly changed.

As these onlookers listened to the Grand Speaker's confident explanation and plan, doubts and gloom involuntarily arose in their minds—you draw lessons from last night's attack, using the soldiers' casualties as experience for improvement, but what about Kang De? What will he gain from this obvious advantage, or even a narrow victory?

They no longer knew which direction the war would take; they could only wait.

However, as these gentlemen meticulously conducted their post-battle debriefing and offered their opinions, their gaze occasionally drifted to a spot in the trench that had collapsed halfway, but they quickly looked away as if nothing had happened.

The embers of fire still lingered nearby, and a nauseating atmosphere drifted through the air. The ground, soaked in blood, was muddy and disgusting, mixed with bits of flesh and excrement. A dead man lay there, his eyes staring at the sky like a dead fish, his face still covered with bits of flesh from who-knows-where, and his body piled with filthy mud.

From here, it looks like a ridiculous grave.