The air in the ditation Room grew sowhat humid.
The faint blue halo of the Deep Sea Echo Conch pulsed outward in rings, making it seem as if the entire room was subrged in the depths of the ocean.
Allen sat cross-legged, his eyes tightly shut.
The fifth Core Matrix was like an unfinished Tower of Babel, with thirty-six Will Runes as its load-bearing pillars. The nineteenth was already complete, and the twentieth was slowly taking shape.
According to the cultivation efficiency boosted by the Echo Conch, if he ground it out for another thirteen months, he could inscribe the [Golem Projection Formula] and steadily push open the door to becoming a Second-level Wizard.
But war, that damned thing, never plays by the rules.
The Beast Tide wasn’t going to give him a thirteen-month grace period to develop.
Twenty days.
No, the countdown was already down to nineteen days.
The mont his thoughts fell into disarray, a stroke of a Rune went askew.
Allen decisively cut off his Spiritual Power, enduring the slight backlash.
The blue light deep in his pupils temporarily dissipated, replaced by an extrely clear, cold look.
Allen examined his own ntal state.
Anxiety. It was an emotion he had rarely experienced since arriving in this world.
In the past, whether fighting Crystal Shell Giant Scorpions in Three-way Canyon or hunting Rock Armor Earth Dragons, no matter how dangerous the situation, he had always been the one controlling the tempo of the battle—he chose when to open fire, when to retreat, and when to deploy the "Big Boy."
But this ti was different.
The first wave from the west alone consisted of over one hundred thousand Magical Beasts and ninety-four Second-Level Magical Beasts, not to ntion a Morning Star-level Magical Beast that was on its way.
In this high-stakes ga, he wasn’t even qualified to be a player; at best, he was a chess piece struggling just to survive.
This feeling of being rushed and forced into a fight had aggravated his "fear of insufficient firepower" to a terminal stage.
His primary consciousness focused, forcibly suppressing his stray thoughts as he resud his deep ditation.
His calm deanor in the face of a great enemy wasn’t a sign he was giving up and letting things rot.
It was because he had forcibly converted this ditation Room into an assembly line.
His seven ntal sub-threads were already running at full power.
The floor was covered with all sorts of materials and semi-finished components. Three Craftsman’s Hands floated above different workbenches, their fingertips precisely manipulating Rune Carving Knives.
Three Alchemy Servants coordinated with the Craftsman’s Hands, securing workpieces, passing materials, and clearing away waste with chanical efficiency.
These were dedicated tasks for three of the ntal sub-threads. Each one controlled a Craftsman’s Hand, engraving Runes onto core components. In a life-or-death situation, production capacity was everything; not a single second could be wasted.
The battlefield for the other four sub-threads was invisible and intangible, but even busier.
They worked with Jarvis to simultaneously manage the defensive deploynt of five Golem Legions, the warti production schedules of six assembly lines, the reallocation of resource priorities for the mines, and the inventory count of ammunition.
Three Golem Legions and the patrol units had already been dispatched to the front lines. The Fifth Legion was positioned in the center to provide support, while the Third and Fourth Legions were arrayed on the northern and southern flanks to prevent the Beast Tide from pouring in from the sides.
The Second Legion was stationed at the mouth of Three-way Canyon, using the terrain to construct a second line of defense.
The First Legion guarded the core workshop area, serving as the final line of defense.
The Sixth Legion—its first batch of skeletons was still on the production line.
"Jarvis, how much longer until the Sixth Legion is at full strength?"
[At current production capacity, full assembly will require three months.]
"Can we speed it up?"
[If you work around the clock and deliver 20% more core components, the speed can be increased by 8%.]
"Execute."
Allen treated himself as coldly as he did his enemies. ’Why bother sleeping? I’ll have an eternity to rest when I’m dead.’
His philosophy was simple: if it doesn’t kill you, then push yourself to the breaking point.
With his seven sub-threads already handling everything they possibly could, the most efficient thing his primary consciousness could do was continue to cultivate.
Every additional stroke of a Rune he carved brought him one step closer to becoming a Second-level Wizard. Even if he couldn’t break through before the Beast Tide arrived, any increase in his Spiritual Power ant he could control one more Golem.
He had long since transford himself into a precisely functioning war machine.
---
「The next morning.」
Ten newly-produced Demon Eye IV models were launched into the sky one by one.
The black spheres silently pierced the sky, fanning out westward at standard intervals of two hundred kiloters. They ford a high-altitude reconnaissance chain one thousand kiloters deep. Including the advance Demon Eye deployed earlier, the line of sight on the western front was extended to twelve hundred kiloters.
The vanguard of the Beast Tide was nine hundred and ten kiloters from the workshop, less than a twenty-day journey.
On the sand table, the writhing red patch in the distance swelled another size.
Allen glanced at the real-ti reconnaissance data without any change in expression, then turned back to carving Runes.
「Late that night.」
The Demon Eye IV model that had first been sent west captured an abnormal signal one thousand two hundred and fifty kiloters away from the workshop.
On the data panel, the peak Magic Power reading quickly jumped to a new number.
12,730.
The standard upper limit for a First-level Wizard’s Magic Power fluctuation was 3,000. For a Second-level Wizard, it was 6,000.
And now: 12,730.
The number was cold and terrifying, like a written death sentence.
Allen stopped his ditation and diverted a sliver of his consciousness to access the Demon Eye’s perspective.
At its maximum range, the optical reconnaissance module barely managed to resolve a silhouette.
It was a mountain.
A moving mountain.
Cracked rock covered its body, its exposed, gigantic scales reflecting a dull light. With every footstep, the ground trembled from one thousand one hundred and fifty kiloters away.
The Magic Power scan revealed more details: around that mountain-like shadow, the movent trajectories of all Magical Beasts were extrely orderly—like iron filings drawn to a magnet, they automatically arranged themselves into neat formations.
’Is this the Morning Star-level that Master rcer spoke of?’
Allen stared at the number—12,730—for a full three seconds.
Three seconds was a very long ti for soone with his speed of thought.
During those three seconds, the instinctual fear engraved in the DNA of every carbon-based lifeform tried to tear through the defenses of his rational mind.
His pupils contracted.
His heart rate rose.
Adrenaline began to pump through his veins.
Then, in the fourth second.
Everything returned to calm.
His chanical Mind, like a scalpel, cleanly and efficiently severed the superfluous emotion of fear.
His heart rate dropped back down, his pupils returned to normal, and his long, slender fingers were as steady as a rock.
His conclusion took only a single thought: this was not a battlefield he could interfere with. A Magic Power reading of 12,000 ant this thing could obliterate him and his workshop with a single sneeze.
’Therefore, there was no need to focus too much attention on it. Just keeping an eye on it would be enough.’
"Jarvis, package all reconnaissance data from the western Demon Eyes and send it to Forged Fire Fortress."
[Sent.]
"Monitor the Morning Star-level target’s real-ti status and provide continuous updates. From now on, sync the western front’s situation with the fortress every six hours."
[Confird.]
Having done these two things, Allen withdrew that sliver of his consciousness and sank back into his Sea of Spirit.
The third stroke of the twentieth Rune descended.
Without the slightest deviation.
In the ditation Room, the Craftsman’s Hands continued to tirelessly carve components, the Alchemy Servants continued to transport materials, and Jarvis continued to direct the legions.
Everything was as it had been.
Except on the sand table, the moving mountain had shifted another three kiloters to the east.
And in the feed from the Demon Eye at the farthest end of the reconnaissance chain, on the back of the Morning Star earth dragon—a back as wide as a plain—there seed to be a faint, gray speck.
’It’s too far. I can’t see it clearly.’
But for so reason, that little speck made Allen more uneasy than the Magic Power reading of 12,000.
Reviews
All reviews (0)