Chapter 426: The Final Counterattack

In the deepest reaches of the corridor, faint murmurs resonated like ghostly whispers that one couldn’t quite understand. It sounded as if the wind was softly sighing, hushed voices were discussing secret matters, there were constant footsteps like a restless soul pacing back and forth, and occasionally, the sharp sound of gunfire would pierce the quietude.

These sounds blended into one another, losing their individuality. It felt as though everything was merging into a singular existence, without the conventional sense of direction, devoid of time or space. The corridor itself was reminiscent of this feeling, shrouded in a thick fog, ready to swallow anything or anyone brave enough to walk through it.

An old man, his back hunched from the weight of many years, moved with caution through this winding, maze-like corridor. In his grip, he held a heavy wrench which would occasionally knock against the many pipes that decorated the walls of this underground pathway.

Who was this old soul? Why was he in such a place? Where was he headed and for what reason?

There had been an attack. At the stroke of midnight, the Queen’s Guard had been mobilized. But the question remained: what or who were they attacking? And where was the battlefield?

Random snippets of memories and fleeting thoughts would occasionally emerge in the old man’s clouded mind, only to disappear just as quickly. Sometimes, he felt as though he was caught between two realities, his muddled senses and memories tangling up inside of him. At other moments, he felt he had been stuck in one spot, waiting for an instruction for decades.

Looking down, the old man noticed his wrench had knocked against something. It was a helmet – jet black with a slim brim, bearing the emblem of the Queen’s Guard. It was a piece of history, not commonly seen anymore.

He stared blankly as the helmet tumbled and eventually rolled into a nearby drainage. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a shadowy figure try to emerge from the drain, but it faded into the encompassing darkness just as quickly.

With his mind awash in confusion, he trudged onwards, the environment around him seeming more and more like a thick, engulfing tar. It felt like an eternity, but he finally reached the end of this mysterious corridor.

Here, a chaotic scene awaited him. A mess of pipes, debris from a collapse, and an eerie smoke rising from the ruins blocked his way. He looked around, trying to make sense of where he was. He was certain he had never come across such a place on his usual routes in the sewer, yet he felt he was meant to be here for some purpose.

He glanced down, catching his reflection in a small pool of water next to the debris. His eyes, filled with confusion and uncertainty, stared back at him.

What was he supposed to do here?

Suddenly, the pool of water displayed an eerie scene before him—

Soldiers from the Queen’s Guard battled the monstrous beings of the corridor. With their weapons, they managed to turn these ghastly creatures into cold, lifeless mud. The very walls, which seemed to seep with a mucky substance, became dry wherever these soldiers went, and the once-consuming darkness began to wane, giving way to a clearer path.

Everything happened exactly as Lawrence had anticipated. The mere presence of the Queen’s Guard was suppressing the strange “corruption” afflicting the mirror reflection of the city-state.

If one were to describe the events taking place in this mirrored city-state, it would be as a monumental battle between two great powers. On one side were the mud monsters, and on the other, the Queen’s Guard. Their intense struggle and intertwined destinies might have persisted for a good fifty years.

Guided by Lawrence, his naval squad quickly moved through the intricate corridors, following the path previously cleared by the ghostly Queen’s Guard. What used to be a long, hours-long trek was now significantly shortened to mere minutes. Throughout this speedy expedition, Lawrence was deeply introspective and observant.

He tried to decipher the mysteries surrounding the Queen’s Guard and hoped to somehow establish a rapport with these ghostly warriors. However, all his attempts were in vain.

It was as if the Queen’s Guard didn’t even notice Lawrence and his squad. These spectral soldiers seemed more like remnants of a bygone era, endlessly replaying a historical battle. They marched, shot their weapons, engaged the enemy, and were defeated, all in a loop that might have been ongoing for countless years.

Martha’s information about the Queen’s Guard was spot-on, but it wasn’t the whole story.

Trying to work in tandem with these ghostly “allies” was a riddle that continued to elude Lawrence.

“Captain! They don’t seem to notice or acknowledge us. What should we do?” One of the sailors approached Lawrence, stating his apprehension. “Following them like this, aren’t we just dead weight?”

Lawrence’s face was a mix of frustration and determination. His eyes involuntarily drifted to a small mirror pinned to his uniform. Before he could gather his thoughts, Martha’s voice emerged from the mirror, “I’m in the dark as much as you are about this situation. I knew they existed, but I never found a way to communicate with them.”

The next moment, he spotted movement at the periphery of his vision.

A small team had detached from the main group and slipped into the drainage channels at the hall’s edges, effectively out of the monsters’ line of sight. They stealthily navigated towards a concealed area, flanking the thorny door.

Simultaneously, the front line’s firepower escalated as a hail of projectiles rained down, aiming to subdue and distract the monsters guarding the door.

Lawrence couldn’t help but hold his breath. Even though he was aware that what he was witnessing might be an illusion unaffected by external factors, his body responded instinctively.

His worst suspicions were quickly confirmed.

The team responsible for setting off the explosives, who were trying to approach the vine-covered door along the battlefield’s edge, were spotted.

Metal projectiles rained down into the drainage channel, and in a heartbeat, the soldiers equipped with explosives were consumed in a fiery blast.

Almost simultaneously, another explosives team made their way into the shadowy trench on the opposite side of the hall, attempting to covertly approach the door that was bound by thorns.

But their efforts were in vain. They too were detected, and the second team met their doom just a short distance away from the vine-laden entrance.

In the midst of this chaos, a sailor’s soft whisper reached Lawrence’s ears: “They’re disappearing!”

Snapping his head up, Lawrence watched in shock as the scene in the corridor unfolded.

The Queen’s Guard was dissipating.

After the disheartening failure of the second explosive team, the Queen’s Guard came to an abrupt halt. Their ghostly silhouettes began to wane, becoming increasingly transparent. Within moments, about a third of them had almost faded completely, resembling faint specters!

Martha’s voice from earlier echoed in Lawrence’s mind: “...they never manage to breach the final barrier...”

The weight of this revelation hit Lawrence hard. He finally grasped the depth of Martha’s words and understood the inevitable outcome of this repeated clash—the Queen’s Guard were doomed to fail. Regardless of their tireless efforts and the number of times they relived this battle, the stark reality was that they could never surmount this “last stand” in their critical mission.

This campaign had met its tragic end fifty years ago.

Each subsequent replay was merely a mournful reminder of that fateful defeat.

Lawrence felt a pang of despair, but a sudden movement caught the corner of his eye, snapping him out of his thoughts. Another figure was entering the battlefield from a remote corner of the hall.

Like the rest of his crew, Lawrence found himself transfixed by this mysterious apparition.

He was clearly no soldier. Instead, he was a young man who bore the unmistakable look of an engineer that might have been assigned to the military. His attire was a dark blue, rugged work uniform complemented by a softly angled hat on his head, evoking a fashion style that had been in vogue half a century ago. The young man swiftly moved towards the trench, a hefty wrench and a pistol hanging securely from his belt, eyeing the explosives left behind by the second demolition team.

Gripping the wooden box teeming with explosives, he made a frantic dash towards the imposing door ensnared by thorns.

For a fleeting moment, Lawrence found himself entranced, hopeful that the young man would achieve what others couldn’t.

But that hope was shattered when a bullet pierced the air, directly hitting the young engineer’s shoulder. His body recoiled from the impact, convulsing in pain, and fell agonizingly close to his destination – just a few steps away from the vine-entwined entrance.

The entire hall seemed to fall under a spell of silence, its vastness