The Gustaf super-heavy self-propelled artillery, outfitted with a fully automatic loading system and anti-gravity stabilization, was the siege weapon of the Eternal City—its finest instrument of war. Both the Eternal City and Kamar-Taj had invested tremendous manpower to deploy them at a bombardment base on the opposite side of Noahdun Town, far from the foot of Mount Fimbulwinter. A team of Eternal City technicians and a handful of recruited artillerymen were tasked with maintaining the massive guns, recording combat data for future refinement before full-scale distribution to other forces.
Under orders from the battlefield command center, fifteen colossal guns with calibers exceeding 800 mm took aim at the mountaintop, unleashing thunderous rage upon the snow-covered peak. Each earth-shattering salvo brought more of the already-crippled town structures to ruin. Spent shells were ejected like missiles by the automated breech system, with nearly ten shells fired every minute—each one a message of death to mankind's enemies. Whatever dwelled on Mount Fimbulwinter was certain to flee in panic before such fury. Below the mountain, anti-air defenses locked onto the sky, their fire-control systems guiding quadruple-barreled cannons to annihilate anything that escaped the artillery's wrath.
Constantine and his suicide squad flanked the battlefield, moving with precision between bombardment volleys, relying on both their high mobility and the artillery's suppressive fire to stay hidden. He had no choice but to be this cautious—for he had just received an order that thrilled even his gene-enhanced mind. The command instructed him to bring the boy to the very summit of Mount Fimbulwinter—currently under ferocious bombardment.
The timing aligned with his original plan, though the added condition made it more urgent. He had to deliver the right person to the right place at the right time. Reports from Kamar-Taj's mystics and frontline scouts left no doubt—they were out of time. The strike team sent to escort Bayonetta had been caught in a cross-dimensional ambush. Simultaneously, waves of creatures from both higher and lower planes surged from the mountain's peak and base, united by some inexplicable force to counterattack Kamar-Taj and the Eternal City. Even the sky-carrier command ship had been forced into combat, its naval cannons and AA guns roaring in concert to relieve pressure on the buckling front lines.
What stunned commanders most was that only a few lower-plane creatures attacked the base. The vast majority stormed toward the mountaintop, heedless of the shells falling around them. Battlefield command surmised that something far more deadly lay atop Mount Fimbulwinter—something that had to be protected at all costs. Yet clouds and smoke from the bombardment obscured satellite surveillance, delaying any confirmation of what exactly was up there.
"Order a controlled retreat. Reorganize the line," Victoria Hand said from the trembling bridge. "We've pushed too deep. Tell the siege guns to hit the ravines where the demons are coming from. Buy the frontline time to pull back. At least we only deployed mobile artillery. I'll take responsibility for this tactical mistake—but before that, Tita, I need your strike team's support."
Tatyana could only monitor the situation via her helmet display.
The harness strapped her tightly to the cabin wall. It was the only thing keeping her secure against the transport's violent turbulence. But not everyone aboard shared her calm. The soldiers in black ballistic armor were clearly struggling, gripping their prototype laser rifles as the dropship's sudden ascents and descents drained the blood from their faces behind anti-radiation masks. No one spoke. Aside from terse exchanges between the pilot and gunner, silence ruled the cabin. The external booms of artillery had replaced even the sound of their heartbeats.
"We might die... just like Lady Catherine," whispered the shy Vera over the squad channel, voicing the one thing none of them wanted to hear. "We might die to false angels."
"This is the glory we sought," Tatyana said, reaching over to squeeze Vera's hand. "At least we're not dying beside a whorehouse drainpipe or in a dumpster. We were chosen because we're the best—aren't we?"
"You're always so optimistic..." Vera clutched her hand tightly. "Do you think we'll see the Monarch?"
"Maybe," Tatyana replied with a trembling voice. She knew Vera still hadn't recovered from Catherine's death. Neither had she. Tatyana gripped the hilt of her chainsword nervously, fingers brushing over the ignition switch. "If not now, then in death. Just like Lady Catherine."
"We will praise Catherine's name and deeds forever, just as others will praise ours," another girl said quietly. "Begin the prayer, sisters. For our Lord, in His name, we shall slay the enemies of man."
The dropship lurched violently and landed. The ramp slammed down onto an ancient stone bridge—one of the last remnants of the Bridge to Heaven, the only known path from humanity's world to the mountaintop altar. The Sisterhood and special forces troops disembarked in perfect order, opening fire on low-ranking angels and demons, forming a defensive perimeter while waiting for their commander.
In less than thirty seconds, the Honor Guard arrived on their anti-gravity assault bikes. Following protocol, the boy was placed under double protection by the Sisterhood and special forces. Constantine confirmed the plan was proceeding, then revved his vehicle and charged forward with his halberd, carving a path through the enemy ranks for the others.
The magical barrier at the mountain's summit shimmered a sickly blue, its integrity fading. Multi-ton shells slammed into it at hypersonic speeds, each explosion cracking the shield like shattering glass. White fractures spread like spiderwebs, but the barrier held. Flames and shrapnel were deflected by what seemed no thicker than parchment.
The final stretch was crawling with enemies. Clearly, the enemy knew that beheading the command structure was the surest way to break the offensive. They had concentrated massive numbers of troops here.
Constantine charged like a spear hurled from the gods. His gene-augmented organs and blood, combined with incomprehensible technological power armor, gave him unmatched strength. He was a living weapon of arcane might and science. Every swing of his halberd shrieked through the air; every explosive blast shattered the supposedly indestructible bodies of outer-dimensional beasts. Few could stand before him for long. Behind him, the Sisterhood and human soldiers raised their weapons and held the line, shielding his advance from flanking attacks.
The boy was speechless at the scene before him.
He'd been confined to the dropship and hadn't witnessed the world outside. Now, he saw firsthand what human wisdom and courage looked like when wielded as weapons. He saw an ordinary soldier impaled on a lower angel's lance—yet still firing his laser rifle, burning a hole through the angel's birdlike head. He saw a girl in powered armor take a demon's barbed tail to the helmet, tearing out an eye—but still she swung her chainsword until the enemy was butchered. The wounded were abandoned without hesitation. Everyone knew what that meant—but the unit pressed forward over the blood of friend and foe alike, never once slowing down.
"Why do you go to such lengths?" the boy shouted, squinting through the smoke and dust stirred by artillery. "Is it really worth it?"
"Shut it, snot-nosed brat!" Tatyana barked without turning. She jammed the barrel of her grenade launcher into an enemy's mouth. "We do this so others can live. That's all there is to it!"
(End of Chapter)
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