Chapter 529: Let’s See Who This Little Cutie Is?

Overlooking the shattered ring-shaped base from high above.

Thump! Thump!

Heavy power armor stomped through the corridor with dull thuds. Shattered building debris flew in all directions as the ironclad warrior in silver-black metallic power armor advanced under the tremor of an energy shield rippling from the impact of a Noble Phantasm. The boltgun in his hand thundered instantly.

The entire hallway exploded with splinters. Thanks to Mash’s shield, the physically frail Fujimaru Ritsuka and Waver Velvet were promptly kicked through a wooden door along the corridor by their Servants.

It appeared to be a staff dormitory of Chaldea. But before the two could catch their breath, the collision had already begun.

Bang! Bang bang bang! Bang!

The finely crafted wooden furniture and warmly decorated photo frames on the walls shattered under the impact of the explosive rounds. Fragments flew everywhere—glass, ceramics, metal frames, mattress stuffing—all sprayed across the room.

Especially the metal fragments—after bouncing multiple times, their force was so great that they pierced through a small wooden table shielding Waver, drawing a cry of pain from him.

It must be noted that his suit, even if of the lowest grade, still qualified as a Mystic Code. Yet just the splinters flung by the explosive rounds had such power. One could imagine: if an ordinary, unprotected person got caught in that crossfire, they’d be riddled with holes in an instant.

Beside him, the light from the flames pouring through the opening in the concrete-reinforced bunker cast flickering reflections on Waver’s uneven hair and furrowed brow.

Outside the windows that once offered a grand view of Chaldea’s frozen plains, the hum of engines echoed. A fleet of “Thunderhawk” assault craft darted from the belly bays of a colossal hovering void battleship near the surface.

On the ice field below, under the majestic insignia of the golden double-headed Imperial Aquila, large contingents of Imperial forces that had been surrounding the planetary ocean gate and launching probing counterattacks immediately split up. This included some Astartes warriors from the Iron Warriors of the Fourth Legion. Entire regiments of Imperial Guard and auxiliary forces turned their guns toward the now-ruined Chaldea base.

From the waving banners to the cold glint on the soldiers’ armor as they changed positions—

An immense pressure swept down upon Waver like a tidal wave. Even without firsthand experience in battle, and only a superficial understanding of military warfare through the Noble Phantasm Ionioi Hetairoi of his former Servant, the King of Conquerors Iskandar—

In this moment, Waver felt it clearly: this was true martial might.

A brutally beautiful force—the formations were scattered yet not chaotic, their tactical maneuvers executed with polished skill. Eyes that had long trained in the art of killing and regarded life as worthless, driven by a thirst to earn merit through severed heads—their savagery was overwhelming.

Leaving aside the fully armored giants, even the auxiliary troops with standardized equipment, or the seemingly disorganized Imperial auxiliaries in diverse uniforms, their scale and weaponry made it clear to Waver at a glance: they were not enemies one could defeat.

Facing such a force—even if one were to resurrect the entire Macedonian army that once followed Iskandar across Asia, they likely wouldn’t even be able to defeat the weakest of these so-called “rabble troops.”

This wasn’t disparagement of his own king—on the contrary, it was because he cherished that past that Waver remained rational.

This was a qualitative gap in technology and armament… and most crucially, they weren’t like the limited spirit projections summoned under the constraints of the Servant system. Here, they weren’t stripped-down infantry with only light arms—they possessed everything that came with being a true army.

Silently, Waver cast a Far Sight spell upon his eyes. Most targets were either fully encased in armor or bundled tightly in military coats, combat suits, or lightweight exo-armor. But as one Imperial auxiliary unit advanced into view, revealing their bare arms—

Waver was stunned.

Where did these barbarians come from?

Now, even the physique of Iskandar’s soldiers—once their greatest source of pride and arguably superior to modern armies—couldn’t compete.

On a side note, Waver couldn’t help but grumble inwardly about Selene’s blatant favoritism. The gap in equipment and treatment was just too extreme.

However, their direction of advance… Waver lifted his head slightly. Rows of massive Thunderhawk assault craft roared past, rushing toward the far side of the Chaldea base.

Wait, their target wasn’t here—that direction led to the cryo-chamber area Fujimaru Ritsuka had mentioned.

The same place where the A-Team, the group of exceptionally gifted magi that had been sabotaged and nearly killed by Lev before being urgently cryo-frozen, was located?

Solomon is dead. Goetia is dead. The Human Order Incineration has ended. Could it be… the cryo-chambers have repaired their bodies and they’ve awakened?!

“Fujimaru, she’s already dead—we must move quickly! Understand?!”

Snapping back to reality, Waver shouted while hunching his body down. The surrounding roars of chainsaws and continuous fire from large-caliber guns rattled his eardrums painfully.

Honestly, Waver was lost. The Holy Grail War was over, the Human Order had been saved, and everything that followed had thrown him into confusion. He could no longer return to London. The state of his students, his adopted sister, his closest friends—everything he’d worked for—was now unknown.

What good would despair do? Waver could only hope the old men of the Mage’s Association would pull through and keep the Clock Tower intact amid the disaster.

After all, the most damaged regions were around the Pacific. The Clock Tower was in the Atlantic. The planet’s gradual disintegration had been halted by the original goddess, so there was still a good chance of survival… hopefully…

Then, the appearance of the Wizard Marshall and his orders gave Waver a temporary objective.

He wasn’t one to sit idly by, nor was he capable of diving into the supreme battlefield. But regardless of the outcome, he had to do what was within his power.

“We’ll split up. Remember, we’ll regroup in the Sea of Stars.”

“Got it!”

Looking at Da Vinci, collapsed and bloodied amidst the ruins, Fujimaru Ritsuka bit his lip and nodded.

“Alright then, it’s settled.” Waver nodded, then added with a self-deprecating chuckle, “If we survive this… Honestly, what we’re doing looks like trying to stop a chariot with a praying mantis.”

“Your Majesty! I’m counting on you, for now…” Waver’s voice trailed off. Because this choice meant sending Iskandar to his death.

“Haha! Leave it to your king!”

With a hearty laugh, Iskandar raised his short sword high. In an instant, golden sand began to swirl without wind as scorching magical energy surged.

Buzz—!

Tossing aside a woman who appeared to be the local resistance leader, the leading Iron Warrior officer’s entire body radiated with Honkai energy. The pressure intensified immediately as he swung his power axe down hard toward the blocking Mordred—bam!

The tiles shattered, shockwaves rippled out. Mordred braced against the king’s sword and grinned, “Cough, that familiar force… you tin cans are still the same. You’re not… ugh, damn it!”

But before Mordred could finish her trash talk, plasma sparks lit up.

Crackle!Snap!

So dishonorable!

Mordred’s expression changed. Forgetting all decorum, she dove and rolled like a donkey, just as an explosive plasma shot struck the ground, melting through the corridor. Accompanied by a blast wave like rolling blue flames, a deafening explosion rocked the semi-enclosed hallway with thunderous echoes.

“Kill—!”

“Hm?”

The flames of the explosion hadn’t yet dissipated when a chorus of battle cries rang out, catching the boltgun-wielding Iron Warriors momentarily off guard—such numbers.

“Saber, all of you leave this place. I will hold them off,” Iskandar shouted.

At the same time, a large group of warriors clad in ancient Greek-style bronze cuirasses charged forward, each wielding a spear and shield. A barrage of thrown spears slammed into the power armor of the Astartes warriors, producing heavy thuds.

But for the Iron Warriors—infamous within all Astartes Legions for their obsession with firepower and preference for highly technical, cold, and efficient warfare, known for their heavy armor and brutal siege tactics—there was no hesitation.

Just one word: Kill!

Several Iron Warriors carved through the Macedonian warriors like vegetables, slicing down everything in their path. Wherever they passed, Iskandar’s soldiers were either beheaded, torn apart into blood mist, or cleanly severed from multiple angles.

Blood sprayed, corpses piled.

“This expedition truly stirs my blood…”

Watching his faithful warriors fall one after another, Iskandar did not falter. Instead, he activated his Noble Phantasm to an even greater extent. More and more Macedonian warriors appeared, pouring in from all directions, using primitive weapons to stall the advance of the iron behemoths.

“Go!” Iskandar commanded with a sharp tone.

“Senpai, hurry!”

Supporting Fujimaru Ritsuka, the surviving Servants—dispersed since the fall of the Hanging Gardens—had regrouped. Their mission here was to slow the Imperial Army’s purging and occupation of this world, buying time to stabilize the Root’s grasp over the world and prolong Selene’s rejection, hoping for a sliver of victory.

Some held off incoming reinforcements, others defended against bombardments from Titan mechs in the air, and others faced assassination attempts by high-ranking Astartes commanders.

After passing through a broken hallway—boom boom boom!

Several Thunderhawk assault craft closed in. From the massive bays, a squad of heavy terminators leapt down. Their hulking bodies slammed into the ground, shattering the base’s ceiling upon impact.

As they rounded a corridor, Waver looked back one last time—only to see Iskandar brandishing the Sword of Kupriotes, charging forward in his chariot pulled by thundering divine bulls.

“I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors! Foreign intruders, you shall not pass!” He cracked the reins, and the thunder-bulls surged forward. Like a thunderclap, they collapsed the surrounding corridors with explosive force. Iskandar roared.

“….” The Iron Warriors responded only by pulling their triggers coldly, swinging their weapons with blood-soaked resolve. If it collapses, if it explodes—so be it. Not one will be spared!

Clang!

Suddenly, a golden figure landed on the ground like a falling meteor, instantly crushing the guards around Iskandar. All heads turned to see the towering being clad in golden armor and draped in a red cloak.

“Via Expugnatio—Distant Domination!”

The moment he saw the figure, Iskandar raised the Sword of Kupriotes and shouted. But before the words fully left his mouth, a precision-forged lightning halberd cleaved through the air.

Splurt—!

The sharp halberd blade tore through leather, skin, muscle, and bone. Even the treasured sword in Iskandar’s hand was sliced in two. Blood gushed like a fountain, and the thunder-bulls beneath his chariot were cleaved apart, crashing to the ground.

Boom!

A crater nearly a hundred meters wide replaced Iskandar’s position, shattered remains scattering outward.

Swish~

With a mock gesture, the golden-armored guardsman flicked nonexistent blood off his halberd and turned to look in the direction Waver and Fujimaru Ritsuka had fled.

Thud! Thud thud!

One after another, four more guards landed heavily, then gestured to the Iron Warriors beside them to resume their mission without interruption.

“Do we pursue?”

One of the guards asked.

“No need. They’re heading toward where Her Highness is stationed… and since Her Highness was bored, throwing some interesting prey his way should help alleviate that.”

“True enough.”

As for whether letting the enemy flee toward their princess counted as negligence or dereliction of duty… well, not in their eyes. It was akin to a noble hunt: court guards spreading across the plains, driving the prey toward a designated kill zone for the royal to execute personally.

…

Inside the Chaldea base, the power grid had long since been damaged by bombardments. In the dark corridors, gunfire echoed intermittently, the light flickering on and off.

Scattered debris was swept aside as several figures dashed past at high speed, crashing through what remained of the furniture. The chaos they stirred was matched only by the urgency in their movements, bodies hunched low under oppressive pressure as they sprinted forward.

With the fire suppression systems damaged, cold water tinged with the scent of blood splashed across Fujimaru Ritsuka’s face, making him shudder. Looking up, he was met with dismembered limbs scattered beneath broken ruins.

“Senpai, ahead—someone’s there.”

Mash abruptly halted, her face expressionless.

Ritsuka noticed Mash’s grave expression and looked in the same direction—boom!

The wall exploded. Blinding white light forced Ritsuka to raise an arm to shield his eyes. A tall figure strode down the corridor, golden armor gleaming brilliantly under the flickering lights, crimson cloak of the Imperial Aquila fluttering like fire in the haze.

“Imperial Guard… and at commander level.”

In his ear, the voice of Avicebron came through a transmission spell.

Clack clack~

Just as Ritsuka prepared to speak, the Imperial Guard commander suddenly turned sharply, standing tall and proud.

A set of crisp footsteps echoed.

“Hooah… so there are still magi alive.”

With a heavy thud, a warm, oval object rolled to a stop at Ritsuka’s feet. Golden hair, limp like withered straw. Upon closer inspection, both he and Mash raised their heads in shock.

It was the head of Team A’s leader—Kirschtaria Wodime!

Staring at the disheveled magi before her, the girl at the corridor’s end curled her lips into a faint, pleased smile. Blood dripped from her fingertips, and a murderous fury burned in her sky-blue eyes.

“Just a bunch of half-dead ants… how dare you boast before me? To insult Her Majesty… all magi must die!”

Crack—!

…

Elsewhere—

In the crevice between the original universe and countless universes, the attacks of various pantheons had officially launched toward Selene at the center.

Snap!

Selene twisted her neck and crushed a large group with a backhand. She clearly felt the universe’s rejection of her weakening, while the cumulative wounds inflicted by Astartes were rapidly healing.

“Ashtart… it seems my warriors are superior after all.”

The space of the Four Realms had been completely nullified—stars and suns alike perishing, falling amidst the apocalyptic clashes.

This made the deities from high-dimensional realms, who had responded to the Root’s warning to stop Selene, feel an instinctive dread.

“Hmph!”

Ishtar Ashtart didn’t bother spouting clichés like “sneak attacks are dishonorable.” It was pointless. Selene always had a justification; arguing would only make one look foolish.

With a cold snort, she clapped her hands together—PAH!

With a sound like the tearing of the cosmos itself, she shouted, “Don’t think you’ve already won, Selene!”

————————————————————————————————————–

40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:

Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep