Chapter 432: The Call of Fire

Lister, an unwavering and resolute leader of the garrison troops, found himself maneuvering through the bloody chaos of a warzone located in the bustling core area of the harbor district. In the midst of the disarray, his main priority was to keep the crucial arteries of the port active and functioning despite being continuously hammered by the relentless barrage of an attack that seemed to come from another dimension.

Out of nowhere, his attention was forcefully diverted from the pandemonium of battle towards the direction of the city-state. A look of confusion and surprise spread across his rugged, battle-worn features.

Without warning, strange, warped structures began to sprout and materialize from the heart of the city-state. Regular streets began to shudder and warp, transforming into a perplexing, paradoxical urban landscape. The far-off terrain is distorted in eerie, unnatural ways, with a prickly illusion stretching across the mountain like a ghostly curtain. A cascade of chaotic, multicolored lights descended from this spectral illusion, painting a bizarre, spine-chilling scene. Yet, in the midst of this grim spectacle, a peculiar occurrence took place – a delicate, ghostly “dust” began to fall from the sky.

This heavenly dust, like a specter floating in the sky, wafted gently down like the inaugural snow of the winter season. Each particle swirled through the tangled illusions and the alien streets, finally finding rest on the frost-kissed cobblestones below – as insubstantial as a dream, yet seemingly endless in its descent.

Wherever this mystical dust landed, the previously blurry city-state, shrouded in illusions, seemed to regain some of its original clarity. Albeit transient and minimal, Lister registered the emerging demarcations between the actual streets and the illusory ones.

However, in the escalating heat of battle, there was no opportunity to contemplate this mysterious phenomenon or to dwell on his own looming fate. Instead, the harsh cries of steam-powered walkers and the deafening roars of coastal defense guns violently snapped him out of his contemplation, throwing him back into the stark reality of the battlefield.

“We must drive these abominations away from the dock area!” His voice resonated through the stone-lined corridors and hastily erected barricades, galvanizing his soldiers and subordinate commanders. “The fuel depot and ammunition conduits must remain operational! The port cannot be allowed to fall!”

A thick cloud of gun smoke hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid stench of blood, engine oil, and the dry, mud-caked earth. The defensive lines began to waver as a steam-powered walker fell to the onslaught, quickly replaced by the next mechanized steam walker, determined to hold the line no matter the cost.

Behind the protective barrier of the defensive line, teams of dedicated individuals hustled among the damaged dock facilities, working tirelessly to keep the heart of the harbor beating.

From a high vantage point, Lister took stock of the situation at the dock.

The monstrous enemy horde surged forth from the fog in staggering numbers, threatening to claim the port as their territory. He and his men fought back bravely, flushing out the dock invaders, forming protective lines on the city-state roads, and demonstrating resilience in the face of overwhelming odds.

Judging by their latest external communications, Frost’s last bastion was this single functioning port. All other harbors were either caught in the throes of savage battles, overwhelmed and taken over by the enemy, or rendered completely unusable due to extensive damage to essential infrastructures.

Lister realized the gravity of the situation – the port had to remain operational at all costs. The maritime defenses were barely holding together, teetering dangerously on the verge of annihilation. Without this one remaining coastal artery, the city-state’s naval forces would inevitably be condemned to destruction.

However, an unnerving question hovered over them, casting a grim shadow – would they be able to hold their ground as the grotesque, distorted city-state steadily advanced into their realm?

His eyes surveyed the abhorrent, cancerous land that had sprouted from the city-state – a relentless, spreading blight ominously creeping towards the port. With a heavy, sinking feeling, he tore his gaze away from the sight, leaving the frontline to return to the strategic epicenter of their defense operations – the bustling command post.

Inside the command post, a scene of organized chaos unfolded. Officers and staff hustled in a whirlwind of activity, grim news streaming in from every direction. The constant drone of communication devices filled the air, and the palpable tension in the room reflected the urgent predicament they found themselves in.

In one corner, a weary communications soldier was hunched over his radio. His voice was raspy and strained from continuous broadcasting: “Attention all vessels near the coast, this is East Port, we remain operational, I repeat, we are still operational — this is the only safe harbor for resupply, steer clear of other ports...”

Unfazed by the pandemonium around him, Lister approached one of his subordinates, “What’s the current situation at the supply dock?”

“The ‘Laurel’ is in the process of reloading and repairing its ammunition elevator. Its sister ship is powerless, being tugged back by a barge. We have a decent stockpile of ammunition, fuel, and freshwater. But the crane at Dock 4 is gone. It’s completely incapacitated...”

Lister absorbed the information, his face tight with concern. Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps broke his concentration. A frazzled officer rushed to his side: “Sir, we have a situation...”

“Situations are a dime a dozen,” Lister responded sharply, “Speak up!”

“Sir, a vessel from the Mist Fleet is requesting permission to dock for urgent repairs,” the officer stammered, his face a canvas of mixed emotions. “The undead onboard reported their transmission mechanism is malfunctioning, and their onboard repair equipment can’t handle it.”

A pregnant silence filled the room as Lister digested the news. Finally, with a set jaw, he ordered, “Grant them permission and assist with the repairs immediately.”

With these words, the flaming silhouette shot out of the room once more.

“Farewell, goodbye!”

Meanwhile, the petite girl in the room echoed the farewells, and in an instant, a swirling rift of shadows materialized beside her. The churning darkness within the rift swallowed her whole, causing her to vanish before everyone’s astonished gazes.

“What... What just happened...” Lister stood there, rooted in shock and disorientation. In a daze, he darted towards the open window, managing to glimpse a radiant streak shooting skyward.

Beneath this blazing trail, the coastline was awash with the brilliant light... and then, unexpectedly, it burst into flames!

“The Frost coast is on fire!” From the crow’s nest of the Sea Mist, a skeletal sailor clutched the loudhailer and bellowed out the startling revelation.

Tyrian stood firm at the ship’s edge, a stoic sentinel, while the sea roiled with tumultuous waves and a biting wind swept over the deck. Reflected in his singular eye was the view of Frost’s coast, ablaze with multiple fires.

A brilliant flame danced in the city-state’s heavens, igniting the city’s desolate outskirts – towering cliffs, jutting sea rocks, abandoned towers, and ruined artillery emplacements. These burning landmarks gradually linked, forming... a connected chain of beacons that extended along the shoreline and into various points across the surrounding waters.

“Captain!” First Officer Aiden dashed forward, raising his voice to compete with the chaos, “The last oil barrel has been used up, and the encircling fire is dangerously close to our ship!”

“I understand,” Tyrian responded calmly, a slow, relaxed smile spreading across his weather-beaten face. “And what’s the situation with the Frost Navy?”

“They have indeed followed our instructions and set the surplus whale oil ablaze. However, they are in the dark about our plans. They’ve been blindly following orders in their state of confusion and are now demanding an explanation from us.”

“Explanation...” Tyrian repeated softly, lifting his hand to point slowly towards the sea, which was becoming more and more enveloped by an intensifying cloak of darkness.

“Aiden, how does this sea appear to you?”

Caught off guard for a moment, Aiden surveyed the waters surrounding them.

In the next instant, his expression gradually hardened, a hint of fear creeping into his features.

The surface of the sea had somehow become unnaturally calm, and the encroaching darkness had slowly transformed the entire sea into a mirror-like surface.

Fires were dancing in front of this mirror, stretching from the coast of Frost to the naval battle site. The series of fires... they resembled a line of candelabras placed before a mirror.

The sounds of waves and naval artillery from the sea seemed to fade abruptly. Everything felt incredibly distant as if it was emerging from another world. Amidst this haunting and temporary silence, Aiden heard his captain’s voice, barely louder than a whisper.

“My father once said, if you are in search of him, find a mirror and kindle a flame in front of it.”

Slowly, Tyrian spread his arms wide, facing the sea which was gradually morphing into a pitch-black mirror.

“The fire is lit. Are you there?”

In the next moment, the entirety of the Frost region seemed to come alive.

“Yes, I am here.”