Ch.401The Final Resistance: Myers Highlands (1)

Guooo….

Since Myers Hills was close to the coast, the Sky Warden entered its airspace quickly without proper repairs.

The proximity to the coast was intentional—deliberately reducing one front line in a situation surrounded by enemies while selecting a location that would allow for quick evacuation via sea transport if necessary. The 1173 Corps ultimately took their own lives within their fortifications without reaching the coastline, but the 230 million lives they saved were able to escape safely to other locations.

“Isn’t it interesting?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, a wounded weapon of war entering the cemetery of warriors who endured 160 battles to the end.”

“Hmm… I think I understand what you’re getting at.”

When the wounded enter the land of the dead, they inevitably attract the attention of the departed.

Will these wounded recover and return to the land of the living? Or will they be consumed by their wounds, becoming fertilizer for this land and walking alongside the dead?

Even now, I can feel their gaze. The spirit of those who fought under the sun but never for the sun.

“Simon. Can you feel it too?”

“No. This is probably something only you can feel. Or perhaps… druids or those who deal with spirits? Only those with psychic abilities can hear the voices of the dead. After all, they are merely illusions and reflections. Just dissipating waveforms. Beings bound to a past tens of thousands of years gone. Their time must be running short now.”

“…I see.”

The specters commonly called ghosts are ultimately those who have died and scattered. Intense grudges or stubborn will keep their souls tethered to this world, and if their lingering attachments are resolved, their souls will go to where they should have departed long ago.

However, if these attachments were easily resolved, they wouldn’t be called grudges. So these specters pursue the bodies of the living to fulfill their broken missions, binding their minds and turning them into slaves. These are called revenants—spirits that cling to the bodies of the living.

I haven’t seen them for a long time except when purifying Derikson Village, but perhaps I might see them here as well.

At least, if they still remain.

After 160 battles, none of the 1.5 million soldiers survived.

The basic instinct of life—”I want to live”—as natural as a baby seeking its mother’s embrace, was something that even the most trained and disciplined soldiers could not overcome.

“My lord. We will soon arrive at the landing point.”

“Is there a place to land?”

“There’s a large open area nearby. We should be able to dock the ship there.”

“Good. After we disembark, contact CEO Karl to receive resupplies.”

“Understood.”

Turianic Industries should be able to deliver armor plates, ammunition, and gun barrels via literal rocket delivery. That’s why I delegated rocket usage authorization in the first place—for situations like this.

I’m concerned about the lack of professional facilities meaning we’ll rely 100% on manpower, but with an outstanding mage like Simon and the dwarf brothers, we’ll manage somehow. With Viktor and Raisha on guard duty, we don’t need to worry about surprise attacks.

Swoosh…

“We’re decreasing altitude.”

“We’ll be landing shortly. Please be careful as there might be some turbulence.”

“Mm.”

Viktor didn’t respond.

Because that warning was meant for Simon, who now loses at arm wrestling even to elementary school girls.

*

Clank! Clank!

The armor plates of the 1.3 million-ton warship, having lowered its landing gear, were gradually falling off, unable to withstand the air pressure.

The damaged armor plates began thudding into the soft ground one after another, while rockets sent by Turianic Industries slowly descended using ion engines for reverse thrust.

Hissss…

Soon the rocket cargo holds began to open, and enormous armor plates—exaggeratingly almost the size of a house—started flowing out like the tide with the help of machinery.

“Damn. How are we supposed to move something that big by hand?”

The Sun muttered, but his question was quickly answered.

Because they weren’t moving them by hand, but with cranes and forklifts.

Thinking about it, it was obvious—how could anyone move something weighing several tons by hand? I said we lacked “professional” equipment, not that we had no equipment at all. Turianic Industries knew this and sent some basic equipment along.

“They’re not moving them by hand?”

“What… how did you think they would move them without being Aura users?”

“Well… by tying them with ropes or something?”

“Come on. We’re not moving water bottles here…”

“Argh… don’t even mention water bottles. It reminds me of the old days…”

Viktor covered his ears, trying to shake off the nightmare of delivering water bottles to high-rise apartments. Why did such memories persist even after becoming a god?

Seeing Viktor like this, Simon smiled faintly and pointed to the dwarf brothers supervising the soldiers making repairs below.

“They’ve become almost professional repairmen now. Since they can’t match you in flames and explosions, they’ve grown in other ways. I can now cast spells twenty times a day.”

“Really?”

Viktor’s eyes widened. To be honest, he had completely turned a blind eye to his party members’ growth. After becoming a god, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t keep up with him.

Especially after the elf sisters left, this tendency grew stronger, and except for Simon and his wife, he barely interacted with the dwarf brothers beyond occasional conversations.

Recently, apart from a few in-depth discussions about the water plague, their relationship had become superficial—just exchanging a few words when passing by. Despite such a bland relationship that could hardly be called companionship, the Iron Worker Party hadn’t disbanded yet, largely thanks to Simon’s efforts.

Simon had acted as a mediator, explaining to the dwarf brothers that Viktor wasn’t just spending all day in bed with his wife, but was managing various businesses including Turianic Industries and communicating with hundreds of people daily to suppress religious conflicts across the land. This helped prevent them from feeling neglected.

However, even that couldn’t overcome human psychology, and ultimately couldn’t prevent the elf sisters from leaving due to their feelings of inferiority. Just for managing to mix the unmixable oil and water of god and humans, Simon deserved to be recorded in history books as a great man.

Screech…

Clank! Clank!

“Lift it higher! Higher!”

Viktor sighed as he watched the repair site.

He didn’t know how to react. In truth, he was naturally so insensitive that he barely even noticed his own increased strength.

Even in Parcifal, he hadn’t experienced significant psychological difficulties while directly or indirectly killing hundreds of thousands. After becoming a knight, he quickly became an apostle, and after becoming an apostle, he ascended to godhood—so it wasn’t strange that his standards for strength had become distorted.

Perhaps, paradoxically, the bleak environment where he could rely on no one had made him pursue his goals regardless of his surroundings. As they say, you reap what you sow. Those who grow in extreme situations inevitably set their standards according to those extreme environments.

“I suppose we’ll have to postpone sightseeing until the ship is repaired. We haven’t even identified who’s backing the water plague yet… we can’t rashly leave the flagship.”

“Can’t we use reconnaissance satellites?”

“I’m not on the throne yet.”

Finding the source of the water plague would be easy if we activated reconnaissance satellites. Fighter jets don’t just appear out of nowhere—they need to launch from at least an airfield or at most an aircraft carrier.

But no ruler in this world would appreciate a transcendent being freely spying on their territory. Wars break out over caught spies drawing maps, let alone surveillance satellites. Unless he ascends to the position of emperor and demotes all rulers to vassals, he cannot freely wield the legacy of the old empire.

More precisely, he chooses not to wield it to gain public support. If he wanted to, he could easily annex these 1200s-era nations by awakening the old empire’s war machines that directly violate the laws of physics.

However, that would be the path of a dictator, so he chose not to take it.