Chapter 452 - 417: Three-Dimensional War (2)

Chapter 452: Chapter 417: Three-Dimensional War (2)

Velin held up one finger. "First, establish standard units of measurement. Distances must be precise down to the ’yard,’ and directions must be precise down to the ’degree.’ You will report coordinate readouts from your heads, not go by ’feel’!"

"Second, create a system of brevity codes. Who is authorized to speak on the public channel? What’s the codeword for a surprise attack? What’s the designation for an enemy High Tier Mage? All of this needs to be written down as ironclad rules to be memorized by heart."

Velin didn’t give Ola a chance to catch his breath, continuing, "Also, the most important point—a multi-branch coordination manual."

"Our army is a mix of humans, Transcendents, Sky Knights, and Sarah’s swarm." Velin glanced to his side.

"When a Stuka is on a bombing run, how do we avoid interfering with a ground Knight’s charge? When Soldier Ants launch a surprise attack from underground, how should the heavy infantry phalanx maintain a safe distance?"

Velin looked at the completely stunned Ola, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Therefore, all of this must be put down on paper and become an instinct etched into the very bones of every soldier."

At a signal from Velin, two attendants pushed a small cart forward, laden with a thick stack of military books.

"For the next month, aside from sleeping, you will all spend the rest of your time holed up in the conference room. I want you to take our unique unit characteristics and personally write the White Tower Territory’s *War Manual*."

"If you can’t write it, or if it fails in practical drills..." Velin narrowed his eyes, a dangerous smile gracing his lips. "Then you’ll all really be sent to the logistics department to feed horses."

Ola stared at the books, each one looking more like a brick than a tome, and swallowed hard.

"One month?"

Ola’s face was a picture of misery. "My lord, isn’t this too rushed? We just suppressed the plague. Shouldn’t the territory be recuperating and rebuilding? Can’t we take our time hashing out this manual?"

"Take our time?"

Velin sneered. "Do you think we have time?"

He looked at the confused Ola and said in a low voice, "You only see that we won the battle against the plague. You don’t see that the Duchy is bleeding."

"Hector took a heavy blow." Velin’s gaze was profound as he looked at the crowd. "The Black Steel Squad was annihilated, and the workshop collapsed. But that was just one heavy punch. It’s far from enough to take him down."

Tristan seemed to realize something, his expression changing slightly.

"And that’s not the worst of it. The Royal Capital..."

"Correct." Velin nodded. "Although we contained the plague, other regions were clearly slower than us. The Duchy’s spring planting this year is a write-off. Grain prices in the Royal Capital have increased tenfold in three days, and mass starvation is already occurring in the commoner districts. Famine is the gunpowder, and the collapse of faith is the fuse."

"More importantly, the Imperial Faction has shamelessly established contact with the Empire’s regular army. We have to prepare for the worst—that ’Sun-Gleam’ Dragon Eagle Knight Order is just the vanguard. The Duchy’s civil war could break out at any moment."

"Damn it, those traitors!" Ola swung his fist through the air. "They’re about to sell out the whole Duchy, and those soft-balled cowards in the Royal Faction are still in the dark?"

"Being in the dark isn’t what’s scary. What’s scary is pretending to be asleep." Velin was not swayed by Ola’s anger. He gently tapped the stack of incriminating documents he had just brought back from Mine No. 7, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "That’s why I must go to the Royal Capital myself."

"What?" Ola’s fist froze in mid-air, his eyes wide as saucers, as if he’d just heard the most absurd joke. "You’re going to the Royal Capital? That place is a quagmire right now! Hector is definitely there with his jaws wide open, just waiting for you to walk into his trap! We have troops and supplies. Isn’t it better to defend the White Tower Territory?"

"Defense alone won’t secure our future, Ola." Velin stood up and walked to the window, his gaze piercing through the glass toward the gloomy northern sky. "If this evidence just sits in my drawer, it’s nothing but waste paper. Only by slamming it down on the table at the ducal council, in front of the Grand Duke and all the nobles, and lancing the boil, can it become a sharp arrow aimed at the Imperial Faction. Besides, some debts must be settled in person."

"But that’s tantamount to tearing off all pretense..." Ola was still trying to dissuade him.

"The war has already begun. It just hasn’t been formally declared," Kael spoke quietly, as if stating an established fact.

Velin nodded, retracted his teaching pointer, and swept his gaze over everyone present. "Kael is right. Famine is the gunpowder, the collapse of faith is the fuse, and the Empire’s intervention is the hand that will light it. The Duchy’s civil war is imminent. In this chaotic situation, only the one with the stronger fist will have the right to set the rules, and... to survive."

...

「Dawn, on the high platform of Mi Port.」

The first light of dawn broke through as a biting wind howled. The powerful Nefarian folded his grey-black wings, restlessly pawing at the stone slabs with his horseshoes.

Velin stood beside the steed, adjusting the saddle. Behind him, Ola, Kael, Tristan, and the others had all come to see him off.

"Tristan." Velin turned, his gaze calm.

"I am here, my lord." Tristan stepped forward, his expression solemn.

Velin instructed in a low voice, "Remember, while I’m gone, the White Tower Territory’s defense network cannot be relaxed in the slightest. If those rats dare to show their faces..."

"I understand." A cold glint flashed in Tristan’s eyes. "I will ensure they never return."

While Velin was giving his serious instructions, the atmosphere nearby had turned somewhat flirtatious and odd.

Xiaolan, dressed in tight-fitting leather armor, stood awkwardly beside the Pegasus. Mia was behind her, clutching a half-eaten bag of fried potato chips, her lips almost touching Xiaolan’s ear.

"Oh my, little Lannie, look at the master’s eyes," Mia whispered while munching on her chips, her tone filled with the characteristic impropriety and mischief of a succubus. "He says he’s going to the Royal Capital on important business, but I’m not so sure."

Xiaolan froze for a moment. "How could the master’s decision be false?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’re so naive." Mia grinned wickedly, poking Xiaolan’s tense waist with a finger. The hot breath she exhaled made Xiaolan stiffen. "A man and a woman, all alone, sharing a mount, and flying so far... I’d say the master doesn’t want to take you to the Royal Capital at all. Who knows, he might just find a remote little inn halfway there and land. Those wooden beds with the thin walls, tsk tsk..."

"Wh-What nonsense are you spouting!"

Xiaolan understood the blatant teasing. Her usually cold cheeks flushed crimson, and the murderous aura of a Level 5 professional vanished completely, replaced by a mortification so intense she wished she could find a hole to crawl into.

"Shut it, Mia."

Velin, who had finished his conversation at some point, turned and shot a cold glance at the succubus who seemed to thrive on chaos.

Mia stuck out her tongue and flew a little higher with a cheeky grin. "As you command, my master~"

Velin shook his head helplessly, mounted the steed, and then naturally extended a hand to Xiaolan. Face flushed and head bowed, Xiaolan didn’t dare to meet the teasing gazes of Ola, Kael, and the others. Biting her lip, she took Velin’s hand and was pulled into his embrace.

As the two settled in, a magic shield slowly rose around them.

"We’re off."

Velin took one last look at the assembled group, his gaze sweeping over the gradually awakening territory below. The white walls gleamed in the morning light. That was his foundation, the source of his confidence to face the murky waters of the Royal Capital.

He gently squeezed the horse’s flanks with his legs.

"NEIGH—!"

The Pegasus Nefarian let out a clear, ringing cry. Its massive wings snapped open, kicking up a gale as it carried the two of them into the sky like a bolt of black lightning.

In this summer of collapsing order, they left the solid ramparts behind, flying toward the vortex at the heart of power.

This time, they were not going as guests.

They were going to be masters.