False God's Body

The plains were filled with the scorched-earth stench left by raging flames. Dry, hot winds from the Eastern Territory swept up sand and dust, beating against the tanks' track guards. Twelve chariots moved in a vigilant formation, crushing across the blackened earth of the Holy Spirit Plain beneath the gradually sinking sun.

Company commander Siniel sat inside the command vehicle, observing the distant terrain through a periscope.

This was a reconnaissance unit—a reconnaissance unit with powerful firepower and excellent survivability. It had nine Warhammer main battle tanks, three Iron Ambassador Tanks, and dozens of experienced, loyal, courageous soldiers. Under normal circumstances, such a force could rout an old-style noble army ten or even dozens of times its size and breach a fortress defended by mid-tier or lower Supernatural Beings. For a "reconnaissance unit," it was absurdly powerful. Yet on this scorched battlefield, Siniel still had to remain exceedingly cautious.

Because Crystal Giants roamed everywhere across the plain, and he and his company had entered an area that had not been "purified."

The area around Thorinburg was where the Crystal Giants had run most rampant. Naturally, the land and towns here had suffered even more grievous wounds. Along the way, Siniel had seen countless collapsed and abandoned walls and deserted farms. The luxurious houses built by the wealthy had been torn down into ruins, and once-valuable fertile fields had been trampled beyond recognition. While they still retained their sanity, the Crystal Giants had possessed at least a trace of order. But since falling into madness, they had begun destroying everything along their path. Wherever they gathered, almost nothing remained intact.

Vibrations from the Chariot Engine rumbled up through the floor beneath him. This heavy, sturdy steel machine gave Siniel ample reassurance. Just a few months ago, he had been a junior