Infinite Realm: Monsters & Legends
Interlude - Warfront

Interlude - Warfront

The Warfront

Admiral Lysaum watched the information getting back to him from the front from the safety of his command center—a mobile base nestled in a forest a few leagues away from the actual fighting.

The advance was proceeding well, the Sects were buckling under the Exalted Empire’s onslaught. Though there were some challenges. The initial projections had them rolling over the border Sects within weeks. It only took a few days after the first engagements for that to be revised.

The Voice that guided them all provided new projections, updating with every moment the fighting continued. Their assassination attempts had been largely successful, and the Sects had been taken off guard. What they didn’t account for properly was the way that the Sects fought. They didn’t rely as much on a command structure, a line of responsibility. They operated on a smaller scale, in cell-like teams, each capable of acting on their own with very little and sometimes no guidance.

That frustrated Lysaum and his comrades. Especially since they were forced to learn how to fight a type of an opponent that they have never faced before.

They had to adapt, change their tactics. Hit and run was pointless, they couldn’t send out smaller attack groups to strike at the Sect targets because more often than not such an action led to a catastrophic loss. On average, Cultivators were stronger than most those in the empire, even with equipment to bridge the gap. They reacted faster, a small group of Cultivators could ambush an Empire team and take them down far easier than the opposite.

And that wasn’t even taking into account their champions, those who had the resources poured into them to make them stronger than the rest.

No, the best way to fight them had been devised quickly, through the efforts of Admirals like himself and the voice of the Machine God who guided them all.

Their plan of attack was a slow rolling but consistent offensive, a constant advance with long battle lines and powerful attacks spread out across the Sect borders. That forced the Sects to fight on their terms, to fight in a way they were unaccustomed to. It prevented them from using their usual tactics to strike at isolated empire positions because there were none. They always had people close to reinforce and counterattack.

Though, it had been a logistical nightmare. Their void ships were constantly ferrying supplies, and more often than not Lysaum was dealing with distributing it.

The actual war was progressing slowly, but their victory was assured. Even with the more Sects arriving to defend, the projections were clear that it wouldn’t be enough. The Exalted Empire had more people, and their equipment made up for their deficiencies on the grand scale.

They didn’t indulge in the heretical advancement methods, but they were not weak. The Empire’s power simply lay in other directions. They didn’t touch any power that involved direct command over any Essence other than the self. Improvement of the oneself in order to gain mastery of the other was their core creed.

Lysaum himself was on the path of the mind, his processing increased far above the average. He could think faster, could take in information from different sources at the same time. He had implants that allowed him access to other devices near him, could control them remotely. A part of his power also increased the efficiency of his equipment, something that many other pureblood cthul utilized well. They didn’t taint their bodies and souls with foreign Essence. Only that with which one was born with was pure. The Framework can never become a crutch, it was to be treated like any other tool.

And now it was finally time for them to teach the rest of the world. For them to finally demonstrate their mastery over the world.

A sudden flurry of alerts drew Lysaum’s attention. New signatures detected by their drones were appearing on the eastern flank of Sector Fero-7. Reinforcements for the Sects.

He turned his eyes to the projector on the table in front of him, where a dozen officers were overseeing the battle, helping process the information that was arriving and relaying orders.

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“Status report, Fero-7,” Lysaum subvocalised, his voice calm but carrying an edge that his immediate subordinates recognized.

His mind, augmented and swift, helped cross-reference the incoming telemetry with the Empire’s extensive databases. The new arrivals clothing and regalia were inputted alongside the Essence readings from the drones. It didn’t take long for the recognition array to trigger a high priority flag.

“Admiral,” a synthesized voice responded from the command hub’s speakers, a lesser mind serving as the voice for his officers. There was no need for them to waste time when their augmented minds could do more. “Multiple new contacts detected. Preliminary analysis: cross-referencing with known Sect signatures.”

There was a pause filled with the low hum of the command center’s machinery. “Identification confirmed, Admiral. New arrivals match the Twilight Melody Sect.” Lysaum’s implants brought up the relevant data file almost instantaneously. The Twilight Melody Sect. A name that carried a significant weight in their intelligence briefings. He looked over the information.

Danger Ranking: ORGANIZATION THREAT LEVEL SIX

FOUR INDIVIDUALS ASSIGNED THE CONSTANT MARK:

CONSTANT—THE UNDYING VOID, THREAT LEVEL SEVEN (Conditional)

CONSTANT—THE DAUGHTER OF DAWN AND DEATH, THREAT LEVEL SEVEN (Conditional)

CONSTANT—THE GRAVITY TITAN, THREAT LEVEL SIX

CONSTANT—THE SPEAR OF SORROW, THREAT LEVEL SEVEN

The Constant marking surprised him, it meant that they were figures that constantly came up in projections done by the Machine God. Important, but not necessarily dangerous, though their threat level was high. He read through everything quickly. Not the most powerful Sect overall, but notorious for the wider range of Paths and Essences utilized. The entry in the database was flagged with multiple warnings.

Lysaum processed the information in a fraction of a second. And issued new orders.

“Supply requisition for all units engaging in Sector Fero-7 and adjacent sectors. Distribute Class-Three antidotes and thermal shielding to all frontline units. Priority one.”

He watched as icons on the tactical map blinked, acknowledging his orders. The logistics network, a marvel of cthul engineering, would already be rerouting supplies, aided by the officers standing around him. Their supply ships had already prepared the shipments, and remotely piloted drones were already on the way to the troops.

He watched the fight in Fero-7 closely, what was previously a steady grind, began to shift in intensity. Reports flooded in, ambushes and probing attacks from the new arrivals. His supplies had helped, reducing the amount of losses. Fire and Venom were the predominant used by the newly arrived sect warriors.

His mind was fed by a constant stream of data from the battlefield, which allowed him to perceive the ebb and flow of the battle. Quickly, he ascertained that the lines would hold, before the projections arrived from the Central Command, he had already made suggestions for order alterations. The Voice’s projections, while adjusting for the increased resistance, still favored an Empire’s victory in the sector, albeit at a higher cost.

Then, the data streams began to stutter.

First, it was a drone in the northern quadrant of Fero-7. Its video feed dissolved into static, its telemetry vanishing. Then another, further south. Within minutes, a cascade of similar reports. Drones, their sophisticated sensor arrays designed to pierce through most forms of Essence interference, were being swatted from the sky with alarming rapidity. Not shot down by conventional anti-air, but simply… ceasing to exist.

Lysaum felt a cold knot tighten in his gut. This wasn’t the work of rank and file cultivators. This was targeted, precise, and devastatingly effective.

One of their elite had taken the field. Someone capable of dismantling their eyes and ears with contemptuous ease. The localized chaos was spreading, and he was rapidly losing his ability to effectively watch over that sector. If this was allowed to continue unchecked, they could lose territory.

He made a decision. The cost would be high, the collateral damage significant, but the alternative was worse. They couldn’t allow their advance to collapse.

He then switched to a secure, high-priority channel, one that connected directly to the Central Command. “Central Command, this is Admiral Lysaum. I have a priority fire mission. Target: Sector Fero-7, grid coordinate 777-82-12. Enemy elite confirmed on the ground, dismantling our eyes. I am requesting immediate Void Ship deployment. Authorization: Lysaum, Crimson-Star-One.”

Despite the calm in his voice, he was worried about being denied. They didn’t have so many Void Ships that they could afford to use them constantly. They were used in places across the front where they were needed the most. Using one here would mean moving it from another area where it might be needed. But the decision wasn’t his to make, he sent along all of his data, along with his personal projections of the battle. They weren’t in danger of losing immediately, but the loss of their surveillance was significant, and he couldn’t guarantee that this elite would only limit themselves to taking out surveillance. A preemptive strike was needed in his opinion.

“Request received and authorized, Admiral. Void Ship Hollow Moon is on the way. Estimated time of arrival: two hours.” Lysaum watched the tactical display, his expression grim. The icons representing his forces were holding, but his ability to watch over the enemy had been severely limited. He leaned forward, focusing all of his capabilities to fill in the gaps with his projections.

He would have to hold out until the help arrived.

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