The Greatest Sin [Progression Fantasy][Kingdom Building]
Chapter 293 – The Drums of Civilization

Olephia leaned down and flicked the black Godstone structure. She winced and checked her nail, it was still as hard as it had been back then. And then she looked up at the tremendous Paradeisius Gate. Although when the door to the other world opened, this structure could only be described as a dam that had cracked open. It could unleash a flood from the other side.

Kassandora had said that the gateway would be opened eventually, if not through here then in some other fashion, however they simply weren’t ready at this point. Apparently, they were working on weapons in Kirinyaa that would be useful for the war, but until that happened, then Olephia had a job to do.

Not for a moment had Olephia doubted that Kassandora was sending her here for no reason, but likewise Olephia had not actually expected herself to figure out why she was to stand on this structure. But then she turned and saw the unmistakable glow of the Goddess of Light. That pale aura that seemed to light up the surrounding area with a holy ambience. Her eyes weren’t quite sharp enough to make out Allasaria herself, but Allasaria must have seen her already. That ambience had stopped advancing and was starting to circle the Paradeisius Gate. Olephia supposed she should introduce herself.

“Hi.”

Mid-way between herself and Allasaria, a sun appeared for a second. The explosion brought day-time to the night and devoured one of the ancient, abandoned castles that was guarding the gate. Although maybe the rather technical ‘deleted’ was the better descriptor; wiped from existence by an atom cracking.

“How are you?”

Three more atoms shattered. Three more suns appeared on the ground. Three more castles were incinerated. Radiation leaked from Olephia like sweat and the air around cracked with lightning of dirty-red blood.

“Go away.”

Two explosions, one ‘only’ deleted yet another of the fortresses in the area, the other set off in mid-air. More than twice as large as all the previous explosions. The warmth passed over Olephia and then the wind, trying to push her away at first, and then trying to pull her back it. The fortifications closest to it shattered as random bricks and stones were ripped from their walls by the pressure, but to Olephia it was only a light breeze.

And Allasaria fled.

“They’ve brought reinforcements!” Etala’s smooth voice shouted across the speakers. Ciria had always enjoyed that melodic voice and right now, it was pleasant break from the thundering artillery around her. They were great wagons on large tracks, a similar design to the artillery that Kassandora had used in the start of the Reclamation War, but the similarities ended there. The main artillery battery fired a volley, the guns retracted with recoil and each tank spit out a huge brass casing for a shell.

Instead of being an open topped gun, it was an enclosed turret with a position for the machine’s commander on top. And Ciria could not believe that not one of them had broken down yet. Several large water trucks had been brought to the front and they were spraying rapidly misting water on the barrels of vehicles. Ciria was reinforcing them with her powers too, she could feel the metal start to beg to be given a rest as it tried to warp under the sheer heat of constant firing. The battery fired another volley. Another set of brass casings hit the ground.

Ciria looked up at the new set of sorcerers or magicians or whatever they were. From here, the word didn’t matter anyway, they were all tiny black spots that flicked around and pirouetted in a mad ballet in the air, and then shot red beams down onto the ground. Ciria raised her radio, officially, the roles were divided with Fortia as chief general, although she was inbound to the UNN from Epa still. Zerus, Sceo and Alkom were coming from the south. They should have landed an hour ago. Maisara was to push forwards and scout out the area. The fact she had not retreated was confirmation to continue. Etala was the supposed commander of this army, although it was Ciria that did all the leading. Etala was only dealing with the act of pouring more men into the grinder to try and overwhelm Fer and Anassa. The artillery battery around her fired another volley. Water started to boil, Ciria silently realigned the warping barrels and another set of shell casings hit the ground. “All infantry, fire from a distance, aim for the new batch of reinforcements.”

It was obvious that these were humans, they were half the size of the various Anassas in the air. Likewise, it was obvious that Anassa was starting to tire herself out. What had been a bubble in the air now was a net, and she was starting to let artillery shells through if they wouldn’t hit anything in particular. Ciria was not going to give Anassa a chance to recover her energies, too many men had died already for that to happen. She would not repay the price again. The artillery battery fired again. More shell casings hit the ground. A new water truck came in to cool the vehicles down. The wet, mist from the steam was swept up by the ocean’s wind as Ciria gave another order into her radio. “All large guns, recalibrate directly on Death, the Sorceress starting to get tired.”

Ciria momentarily closed her eyes as she felt the wrath of mechanized civilization around her. The metal submerged in the ground was not her demesne, but the cogs and gears in the tracks? The moving barrels? The beating hearts of thunderous engines? The electrical radios and the cabin windows of plastic? The UNN jets in the air, each one howling as it dived down to release another burst of iron hail? The trucks behind her, both for men and for shells? Or the heavy tankers for water?

What was more civilized than that?

In the same way that she never got lost in a city, she could position all of the vehicles in her mind implicitly. Once again, the drumming of artillery shook the world. Once again, the clinking of brass shells hitting the ground sounded in Ciria’s ears. Once again, Anassa’s netting madly expanded for a moment, blocked all the shells, and once again shrunk.

Ciria raised her radio. “All units, fire sequentially, clockwise. Don’t give her even a second’s rest.” Ciria waited for a moment as her order went through, and then she heard the constant drumming. Unlike the ear-splitting bursts of before, now, it was the constant patter of heavy artillery.

Constant drumming of guns, constant clinking of spent shells, constant explosions above Anassa and Neneria. Ciria raised her hands one again as she noticed a group of trucks stuck in the mud. The ground reformed underneath them, the mud became bricks, rubber wheels found traction on a hard surface and they drove off to resupply whatever battery they were assigned to.

Anassa’s sorcerers would try to make excursions every now and then. They would block the hails of gunfire, but ultimately, there were only four groups of them and Etala proved herself to be rather talented as a commander. She scattered her men, forced them to go to ground, and then slowly advance. And the advantage of the sorcerers was eliminated. It did not matter how many men they could cut down with a single snap of their fingers if they could not make out the men in the first place.

When each of the teams of fifteen lost two or three, Ciria watched Anassa appear next to what must have been the team leaders and give an order. And from that moment, instead of trying to aggressively push, counterattack and exploit the fact that the UNN were extending themselves, they instead resigned themselves to a defensive strategy. Two teams served as a shield, maintaining a defensive barrier around Neneria and Anassa, and two teams served as a pike, which would prod and poke whatever man exposed themselves, but no longer ventured out too far past their support.

The sky slowly turned to a purple, and then black. The stars came out and flashes of crimson would flicker like a candle trying to push the night away. And Ciria realised the disadvantage of night-time fighting. Maybe Etala didn’t see it, although Etala wasn’t on the frontlines. The great lamps, strong enough for each one to serve as a beacon, effectively blinded their night-sight. Yet they were needed for the manual loading of ammunition from trucks to tanks. Likewise, the vehicles transporting men in and wounded out of the fighting did the same. They would utterly ruin natural night-vision and resensitise men to light. And they would reflect off shiny metal. Shiny metal such as rifle barrels, whereas the dark coats of the sorcerers faded into the night sky. The only thing that was visible was the green glow of Neneria’s ghastly energies pouring into the Goddess. It gave little ambience for how large it was though and the defenders stayed far away enough from it that it couldn’t be used to silhouette them. Ciria rang Etala over the radio once again. “We’re blind out here. Issue a retreat Eta.”

The worst was that the sorcerers did not seem to get tired. And Anassa herself was somehow recovering. How, Ciria had no damn clue. The battering of artillery against the woman’s shield should have been constant, and yet it looked as if it had no effect! And Etala responded after a minute. “Both Fortia and Maisara say that it is too important to keep pushing, and that it’s all or nothing.”

“We’ll be left with nothing if this continues!” Ciria shouted. Etala took another few moments to respond.

“I’ll pull infantry into defensive lines, your artillery is to keep shelling.” Ciria was glad no Divine was here to see the scowl. “At Neneria, nowhere else!”

“WE CAN’T SEE ANYTHING OUT HERE!”

Etala took a deep breath before answering. “The Forces will be here by noon. You’re to keep pressuring so that Anassa can’t recover. Maisara refuses to pull out, I will not have the first battle I lead result in the loss of a Pantheon member. You’re shelling. It’s my men anyway.”

Ciria cursed to herself but didn’t bother arguing. If Etala wanted shelling, she would get shelling. The drumming of artillery continued, the supporting choir of rolling trucks was punctuated by lyricists who barked orders. The gunfire was the high-pitched plucking off strings that would try to chase the thunderous, long noted trumpets of sorcery.

No progress was made. Not from the combined forces of the White Pantheon and the UNN, not from Anassa or her sorcerers. For a while, Ciria was sure that even Maisara and Fer took a break for their duel to talk to each other, although the Goddess of Civilization knew that she simply didn’t like Maisara and assumed the worst. It was when the night started to recede, when the darkness started to become a light purple and then a pale blue and the black-suited sorcerers had nothing to hide in that her mood improved.

And then Etala’s voice, buzzing over the radio, crushed all hope. “Ciria! Ciria!” She yelled. “Are you there?”

“I am.” Ciria responded. Etala did not sound good whatsoever. Had she been attacked? Although then, her voice should be more pained. Right now, it sounded unhurt, but it was madly panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“Our long-range radios just intercepted communications.” Ciria’s golden eyes immediately narrowed. That was not good whatsoever. This battle could be won with just the strength they had, especially if Zerus, Sceo and Alkom would come with the day. Yet that was if the battle continued as it did. Ciria was not too worried about Anassa and Fer, they were mere walls to be beaten through. It was the architect who built those walls that worried her: Kassandora.

“And?” Ciria asked.

“I’m rerouting the air-force, taking them off you!” Etala shouted. “And the support troops should go to the coast!”

“What’s going on?”

“We intercepted this communication, one second, the men are playing it-“ Etala’s voice suddenly cut off and was replaced with a man’s deep voice that was permeated with electronic static. It wasn’t impossible to figure out what he was trying to communicate though.

“All birds, do not respond. I repeat, all birds do NOT respond.” He took a pause and then continued. “Sky Marshal has just given the order. All rules of engagement are forfeit. I repeat. There are no rules of engagement. Fly high and give them hell.”

And the moment the man finished, Ciria heard it. The ferocious and feral screaming of jet engines. Too low a pitch to be UNN or White Pantheon planes. She turned to the ocean. Her jaw fell open, her cheeks drained pale and her eyes went wide. Silhouetted against the rising sun, more than a hundred aircraft burst out from behind the horizon.

Neneria silently kept her heart agape as more and more souls entered. This many in such a short span of time, she had never even dreamed of.

Eleven million.