The border between the Pale Empire and the Holy Empire has become a true Hell.
As the smoke of battle rose, the already poor air quality deteriorated to an extreme degree with the roar of countless cannons.
Thick smog covered the entire city engulfed in war, and the smell of gunpowder in the air was so strong that it was hard to breathe. If you took off your gas mask and took a few breaths, you might be choked to death by the smoke, or your nostrils and respiratory tract would be completely blackened.
It was early winter, and the biting wind couldn't dispel the lingering smoke in the city. The harsh weather, combined with the winter chill, cast a cold, bleak shadow over the entire city, seemingly a sign of its impending destruction.
"Hoo, may the Pale God bless you!" The elderly but strong Paul kept exhaling hot steam as he used his hands, which were already blackened by smoke, to pull down his mask and put in the soldiers' rations distributed by the logistics department—a kind of steak specially made from the flesh and blood of the Pale God —and chewed it with great effort.
His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and he stared numbly out the window of the high-rise building at the street across the street, wary of the Holy Empire's soldiers.
In the stairwell beside him, soldiers with guns were everywhere, along with some corpses stuffed into the back corridor.
The entire building was bombarded from the middle and collapsed, with corpses with limbs protruding from the shattered concrete and steel rubble.
Shell fragments and bullet casings were scattered everywhere, and the outer perimeter of the wall resembled a beehive, with bullet holes visible everywhere.
The smell of gunpowder even masked the stench of blood and decay, making the city resemble the embers of a fire, leaving only the mingling of blood and fire.
Old Paul's words greatly displeased the two-winged captain standing to the side. He slapped Old Paul hard on the back of the head and roared, "What a fucking Pale God! He's a monster!"
If it weren't for him, how could we be in this state now! Damn it, damn it, damn it! He ruined my life, he's the reason my life is over!"
Paul's head trembled slightly, quite frightened by the captain's whipping. He moved his feet cautiously, quickly stuffing the jerky in his hand into his mouth. He didn't dare to talk back to the captain, but in his heart he didn't take it seriously.
"Without that Pale God, I, Paul, would have starved or frozen to death last year. With the existence of the Pale God, I not only survived to this day, but I can even eat my fill and have meat. I don't have to worry about making a living at all. How wonderful the Pale God is! He should be the one to destroy you damned rich and powerful!"
When facing the battlefield, people have different ideas.
However, the fates they faced were remarkably similar.
Just as everyone had finished eating and the soldiers were about to lean against the wall to rest for a while, the commander's voice rang out in the corridor.
"All troops assemble! By His Majesty's order, launch an immediate all-out attack! We must clear the Holy Empire's soldiers from the Holy Lord City! All troops prepare; the counterattack will begin in three minutes!"
The piercing whistles, accompanied by the commander's shouts, rang out incessantly, bringing a renewed sense of despair to this city filled with the smoke of war and death.
Three minutes passed.
"Boom! Boom! Boom..."
A deafening roar of artillery fire accompanied a dense barrage of shells streaking across the sky, crashing heavily onto the buildings opposite with a whistling sound.
The deafening explosion ripped off the building's facade and even shattered the internal load-bearing walls.
The entire area of the room collapsed, burying the Holy Empire soldiers below.
Amidst the thick smog, the dense gunfire and scattered flashes of light continued unabated, and even the screams of the dying could hardly break through this barrage of fire.
"Boom!" The witch, who was using a flamethrower to spray fire towards the opposite stairwell, was shot and her gas-storing organ was blown apart. She exploded with a bang, and the flammable gas burst into a huge flame in the air.
Bird-men with wings on their backs, strapped with bombs, whistled out of the stairwell window. Under the captain's pressure, they acted as a suicide squad and were blown up in mid-air, creating a deafening explosion.
The Birdman Captain, who had just slapped Paul, was forced by the overwhelming pressure from the supervisory team to strap bombs all over his body and fly out of the window in utter terror.
"Bang!"
The deafening gunshot pierced his wings, but it also propelled him with the last bit of momentum as he glided into the opposite stairwell.
Then, a burst of fire from an explosion caused the opposite building's stairwell to collapse.
"Boom!" Countless pieces of debris flew everywhere, and the long corridor of the building was blown apart by the explosion.
Paul had just been feeling happy, was now forced to desperately raise his gun under the commander's pressure and follow the group as they charged towards the opposite stairwell.
"Sizzle!" A Holy Empire flamethrower soldier squeezed out from a crack in the collapsed ruins, and then scorching flames sprayed towards Paul's team.
"Ah... ah... ah..."
Paul's body was covered in flammable gas from the flamethrower, and he instantly burst into flames, writhing wildly in the fire like a fireball, letting out hoarse cries of pain.
However, this is merely the most insignificant example among the deaths around us.
Since the Pale God took over military power, in order to make himself feel more present, or perhaps to find some amusement, he has enjoyed micromanaging the front lines from the rear of the battlefield. This is a way to engage in psychological warfare with the opposing commanders and to gain thrills from it.
Norton had never attended military school and had absolutely no humanity; he didn't consider morale or timing when deploying troops.
He felt that surprise attacks were effective, so he sent out large forces to launch them. He also found small-scale battles interesting, so he commanded his troops to engage in small-scale but large-scale combat.
Coupled with his Pressure that could radiate across the entire Southern Continent, allowing him to monitor every move on the battlefield, he turned this Cataclysm War, which involved the entire Southern Continent and a staggering six million participants, into a two-dimensional military strategy game like Red Alert.
Norton in Biyang is utterly rotten to the core!