725 Miracle

No one knew the outcome of the battle.

It was not until 21 later that the invisible wall that shrouded the northern seas completely disintegrated.

The musicians who had come from every nation beheld an apocalyptic scene.

The sky was broken. Even though it was daytime, the crack in the atmosphere revealed the darkness of the universe. The stars were faint. Brutal rays shot through the dry air, shining upon the cracked seabed.

The seabed was barren, having already deteriorated into grey-black sand. Above the sand, an undying crimson flame burned day and night, with no end in sight.

The sea water roared, wanting to heal the terrible scar, but it was blocked by the invisible forces that remained there.

The cracks in the Physical World and the realm of aether could not be repaired naturally, and a large amount of strange gas that leaked out of the realm of aether lingered above the sea, forming a strange yet splendid rainbow.

Most of the musicians who entered it never came out.

Afterward, the King of Black still remained in the world of dark, and the Son of God had never left the Commonwealth of Caucasian, as if nothing had happened.

Two hours later, the lighthouse's analysis report was sent to the Golden Palace and placed on the desk of the old musician.

The old musician stared silently at the results of the analysis of hundreds of musicians combined with the lighthouse's observations without expression.

Many people expected that the King of Black had been lightly injured and that Charles had been gravely wounded. But the lighthouse's analysis indicated that the King of Black had not been hurt at all, although he had not killed Charles. As far as the old musician was concerned, the most important thing was the aetheric linear diagram of the course of the battle.

From the very start, it had risen to the scale of a catastrophe. The violent fluctuations created a terrible power strong enough to destroy dozens of cities. By the end, hundreds of elements had collided, been destroyed and dissipated.

The collision of Eden and the Holy Cauldron had been even more disastrous. Fortunately, the opponents had stopped before the consequences got out of hand, otherwise, there would have been a repeat of the battle at the Sacred City.

After the collapse of the Abyss, the reason for the quiet moon's existence had disappeared, and by this point, it may have been completely hidden in the Originator. No matter how out of control the battle between the Holy Cauldron and Eden got, it would not come out to obstruct it anymore.

The King of Black and Charles were themselves the representatives of the Holy Cauldron and Eden. As they fought, the two systems collided behind them. If the two of them entered a full-scale war, the aftermath of that conflict would probably spread throughout the entire world.

Now the King of Yellow had disappeared without a trace. The last battle at the Ultimate had probably been the last time he would get involved. It was unrealistic to expect that he would once again appear to tidy things up.

Thus, without this safety valve, the survival of the human world rested in the hands of these two opponents. It could only be said that fortunately, in the end, both sides had stayed their hands. Otherwise, before winners and losers could be decided, winning and losing would already have been rendered meaningless.

After a while, the old musician lowered his head wearily and sighed.

The Commonwealth of Caucasus's Son of God had already risen to this level…

No, it would be better to say that according to the observed speed of his improvement, he should be even more ridiculous than he was now. There must be something dragging him down so that he could not fully exert his power…

All along, other than its unparalleled national strength, the greatest potential of Asgard was the support of the Three Kings. But now their opponent, even while unconscious, could resist the King of Black.

And, he could do so to an extent where it was not possible to determine a winner or a loser.

In the silence his expression remained impassive, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Then there was a knock on the door. A soldier of the Scarlet Bird Clan stood at the entrance, his face ashen. He held a military report from the frontlines.

"Your Excellency, news from the frontlines..."

"Mm, I understand." The old musician did not let him finish, just pointing to the table. "Put it here."

The soldier left, and the silence returned.

The old musician glanced at the report. He didn't even have the strength to open it.

Did he still have to read…

Total defeat! Utter, crushing defeat!

Not only did all their naval lines collapse, but the supposedly unbeatable Asgardian navy was completely crippled, and the sea fortress had even been captured by the enemy. Klein, who had been commanding the frontline, was even said to have committed suicide after surrendering.

If it had not been for the fact that a small part of the fleet had not gone out with the main force, the invincible fleet would have had to be completely disbanded!

Not only that, at the same time the Frost Giant Corps of the sea fortress had been defeated by the vengeful Knights of the Round Table. Under the power of a senseless weapon like the Firebird armor, they had taken more than 50 percent casualties, and now they could only barely maintain their defense and wait for reinforcements.

Asgard had spent a huge amount of money and manpower on this war. He had imagined breaking the Anglos' majestic military power within ten days, but now all that was in the gutter.

Although Asgard's production capacity could replace the warships lost by the navy in less than a year, it would be difficult to find something that could match up to a weapon like the sea fortress.

Within three years, Asgard would lose their advantage in the ocean.

You could not say this was not serious.

But the most important thing was to recover their morale after such a setback and win a huge victory!

At any cost!

It was not like the Anglos could conquer the whole world in a single war. Asgard could afford to lose.

For a foreign war like this, Asgard could mobilize more than four more times!

Since the naval battle was already lost, they would defeat their army!

The old musician had already started considering how to get one of the nine divisions of armored knights who guarded the borders to reinforce the Frost Giant Corps, or how to send out the domestic forces of the Western Military Region.

Replenishment, provisions, training, morale, combat capability...

In the silence, the old musician mournfully stroked the few hairs on his head as he tried to pick the best method out of the thousands available.

This time, no matter what, they must completely crush the Anglos with the power of thunder, even if they had to pile their men up until they reached as tall as the sea fortress!

After this painful decision, the old musician suddenly relaxed.

Dedication required courage and determination, but the subsequent implementation required only experience and skill, and he had never lacked for ideas and ability. In terms of mass-scale mobilization for war, the old musician could head most of the political and military offices responsible for it. Without this ability, the Emperor would not rely on him as his deputy.

Before sunset, he had figured out a general strategy. He leaned back in his chair, carefully thinking if there were any holes in it.

But at the moment, the harsh sound of alarms rang out from the foot of the mountain the Golden Palace was on.

The sound of the alarm was mixed with the lighthouse's bell ringing.

Three long and three short.

The old musician was stunned, and he suddenly leaped out of the chair.

This was… a homeland security alert!

The bell would only be rung if Asgardian soil was threatened.

The slight uneasiness in his heart was magnified infinitely. The crisis that had been created by some leak made him nearly lose his composure as he pushed open the door and dashed towards the Ministry of Military Affairs.

A clerk in gray rushed forward with chaotic footsteps and saluted the old musician. "Your Excellency, the Military and Political Affairs Office requests an emergency meeting!"

"His Highness?" the old musician asked without thinking. He could not lead a meeting that dealt with homeland security. The Emperor himself must preside. But where had the Emperor gone?

"His Highness is meeting with the Burgundian ambassador, and has ordered you to represent him," the clerk answered. "His Highness will come as soon as he can."

The old musician did not dare to hesitate anymore, and he rushed towards the central conference room.

"What on earth is going on?"

"Three minutes ago, the Commonwealth of Caucasian officially declared war on us. At the same time, the Caucasian Redemption Corps landed on our soil from Port Norman, and has already engaged with Clear Seas Squadron."

"The Commonwealth of Caucasian?" The old musician was stunned and went numb. "How is this possible?"

How was this possible? How was this possible? How was this possible?

This question echoed around in his mind: how could it be the Caucasians?

Why? Nowadays, the Commonwealth of Caucasian had no ability to mobilize for war! They didn't even have any provisions, much less weapons and supplies. Where would they get them?

After experiencing the attack of a catastrophe, the devastated Commonwealth of Caucasian was born again in a revolution known as the Liberation of Capital. At the moment, it could be said that it had cleared away its deficiencies and had the potential to become a great country. But the price of this turmoil was terrible famines and epidemics, as well as a severe lack of supplies.

How would the weak Commonwealth of Caucasian mobilize their national reserves? It would be difficult to reorganize their citizens in just a few months. Not to mention that more than half the citizens were refugees and were being hit with plague after plague...

The Commonwealth, which had lost all its provisions in the catastrophe's attack and the several years of famine, had missed this year's spring plowing.

Although they had a vast amount of land, land that they could cultivate was few and far between. Most of it was a snow-covered wasteland. They could only barely cultivate it once per year, and they could not even support themselves on such poor soil…

They were like a knight that could not even fill his own stomach. No matter how strong he was, he had to eat his fill before he could fight a battle.

But now the Commonwealth had declared war on Asgard…

Were they crazy?

In the chaotic conference room, the old musician sat down with a gloomy expression and listened to the quarrels of the officials representing the various clans. Finally, he grabbed the crystal ashtray beside him in anger and dashed it against the wall as hard as he could.

The noise rang out.

Everyone was stunned.

The old musician looked at them all coldly. After a while, he sat back down.

"Tell me, how have they solved their provision problems?" he asked coldly. "Which nation violated the treaty and sold grain to them? Why did our agents in the Commonwealth not report this to us?"

Everyone fell into an awkward silence.

After a while, someone with an unreadable expression passed over to him a photo that a spy had covertly taken

"I'm afraid it's because of… a miracle?"

The old musician held the photograph silently, looking at the image on it. He fell into a long silence. In the photograph, a vast expanse of fertile farmland rose above what should have been a barren wasteland. Numerous heavy stalks of wheat grew out of the barren soil, bending under their own weight. The huge amount seemed to turn the entire field into a golden blanket. In the center of the wheatfield, there was the silhouette of someone holding wheat seeds and sprinkling them onto the barren ground beneath his feet. Everywhere he went, green sprouted from the earth.

"It is said that the Commonwealth's granaries were filled overnight." The Director of Intelligence loosened his bowtie, his face pale. "According to our private statistics, one acre of these d*mn seeds can produce over 100,000 kilograms of rice… Under the control of the Son of God, they can mature in one day and one night. And that's not all. In the Caucasian hinterlands, dozens of abandoned mines have developed an abundant amount of rare mineral deposits overnight. This is not something that humans could have predicted, Your Excellency." He hung his head in shame. "We couldn't do anything."

The old musician said nothing, just stared at the photograph before him. He silently lit a cigarette.

A miracle?

"Does anyone have a blanket?" The old musician closed his eyes. "I'm a little cold."