The direct commander of the First Legion and highest commander of the Imperial Army, he had personally fought in a series of major battles, including the Southern Territory War, the Crystal Cluster War, and the God Hunter Campaign. Considered the most outstanding young general on the Northern Continent in nearly a century, Philip—once an obscure nobody from the backwoods—had now become one of the Empire's most prominent figures.
Yet he remained active on the Empire's "front lines"—whether facing assembled Noble Legions, twisted and frenzied monsters, mad gods, or corrupted and unknown wastelands.
Compared with several years ago, Philip, now past thirty, had become far more composed and reserved. The growth in his experience and the many different people he had encountered after rising in status had made him no longer as simple-minded as when he had first left Cecil Territory. He no longer possessed only a head full of hot blood and rigid knightly doctrines. Yet whenever he saw these "civilized frontiers," far from comfort and ease, and the "propulsion corps" diligently building at the edge of the wasteland, he still revealed the same sincere smile as ever and spared no praise: "Mr. Gordon, you have accomplished great work—the Empire and its people will not forget this achievement."
"You flatter me, General," said Great Architect Gordon with a smile. The wind blowing in from the wasteland had been filtered through the fortress barrier, stirring his somewhat messy, poorly tended hair. "Besides, our work is far from complete. Building the Propulsion Base to the foot of the Great Wall and establishing a firm foothold here is only the first step. Next, we must truly pass through that barrier and take root within the wasteland itself. That will be the real challenge."
Philip nodded lightly, then looked toward the base. "We can