novelraw Chapter 460: The Battle of the Two Aces, Alchemy Technology? Merely a bunch of gimmicks and tricks!
Chapter 460: The Battle of the Two Aces, Alchemy Technology? Merely a bunch of gimmicks and tricks!
Chapter 460: The Twin Aola War — Alchemical Technology? Just Gimmicky Tricks!
Year 341 of the New Calendar, Autumn, the Twin Aola border.
Aola Kingdom’s Crimson Iron Riders, led by the ranger-general Elvy, used the thunderous downpour as cover to launch a lightning-fast raid and seize the strategic border stronghold of Ironwall Fortress from the Divine Kingdom of Theo.
The assault was devastatingly swift, ripping open a breach in the defensive line the Theo kingdom had maintained for years.
The prolonged tension between the two nations was shattered by this blow, collapsing into the raging inferno of full-scale war.
When the news reached Aola’s royal court, the Red Iron Dragon Emperor stood on the high dais, looking down over the realm that stretched across wilderness and mountain ranges, a late-autumn wind carrying a chill across his heavy scales.
His blood relative, the iron dragon Sorog, reported the frontline situation and the reactions of surrounding states in a low voice.
After a moment of silence, Garoth slowly turned his massive head. Sorog’s figure shone in his deep black vertical pupils.
"The Twin Aola War?"
He repeated the phrase, a hint of amusement in his tone."Yes."
Sorog bowed his head slightly. "Romania and its neighboring states are calling our conflict with Theo that, because both kingdoms have an 'Ao' syllable in their names, they’re adjacent north and south, and old grievances run deep. Based on relative position, they call us North Ao and call Theo South Ao."
"So the clash has been named the 'Twin Aola War.'"
Garoth made a soft nasal sound, neither approving nor rejecting the label.
He was more concerned with substance. "Tell me your thoughts."
The iron dragon inclined his head minutely.
"Our territory is vast and our border is long, leaving large gaps between defensive nodes. Supply and troop movements are constrained by terrain," Sorog outlined his plan, his claws drawing rough lines on the stone dais. "Seizing Ironwall Fortress is a critical wedge."
"I intend to root forces there and turn it into our forward base and stronghold inside Theo territory."
He paused to ensure the emperor grasped the strategic intent. "Using Ironwall Fortress as a core, we will garrison heavy troops, reinforce the defenses, and simultaneously dispatch several lords to lead forces toward strategic points: Greenvale, the Normann Pass, the Drywind Hills, and the Palmer Highlands."
"In doing so, Ironwall Fortress becomes the hub from which we open multiple fronts, building an assault axis into Theo’s depth, forcing them to split troops to garrison and exhaust them."
Garoth listened quietly, then nodded at last.
"Proceed."
He said.
Sorog wasted no words. He pushed off with powerful hind limbs, unfolded his enormous wings, stirring the air above the dais.
His figure rose and quickly shrank into a dark speck on the horizon as he flew toward the front.
Garoth did not follow to the battlefield.
Wars at the kingdom level have their own tempo.
Legendary-level powerhouses are like nuclear weapons; they aren’t tossed onto the board recklessly at the opening.
Theo had numerical superiority in legendary strong figures, including high-ranking powerhouses, while Aola was known for the ferocity of individual legends, especially the Red Iron Dragon Emperor, whose battlefield record was fearsome.
Both sides feared each other; mutual probing and caution was the norm.
Garoth returned to the royal court’s rear mountain.
There lay piled mountains of high-density black oil, crystals, and gemstones.
He needed time to consume these energy-rich materials, to soak his body in black oil, and in the silence to repeatedly hone his claws and scales, bringing his condition to its peak to face the even higher-level confrontations he would inevitably encounter.
This war had only just begun.
Time ticked by quietly amid the thickening smoke of war along the border.
After Elvy’s Crimson Iron Riders completed their raid and withdrew, Aola’s war machine shifted into full operation.
Regiments belonging to Starbreaker Maul, Iron Will, the Eye of Extinction, and other warhosts poured through the breach at Ironwall Fortress and occupied it in waves.
These forces were reorganized within the fortress under a unified command led by Gluttonous Ogre Karu.
The Crimson Iron Riders had accomplished their mission and retreated.
This elite mobile force would not garrison a single city; like phantoms, they remained ready to show their sharp fangs wherever the frontline thinned.
Meanwhile, with Ironwall Fortress as the center, large numbers of sappers and laborers worked day and night.
They reinforced walls, excavated trenches, set magic traps, built camps and warehouses, attempting to turn the captured stronghold into an impregnable forward fortress.
At the same time,
the Amethyst Dragon Lion, the Yaqi Serpentine Leopard, the Golden-Plumed Griffon, and the phoenix.
These four powerful lords each led their most battle-hardened corps, like four arrows loosed from bows, striking toward the planned objectives of Greenvale, Normann Pass, Drywind Hills, and Palmer Highlands.
Flames of war ignited simultaneously at many points along the long border.
To guard against possible multipoint counterattacks by Theo, four lords — the Holy Spirit Deer, the iron dragon Leticia, the Blue Dragon Zoraya, and the Gold Dragon Alberto — were deployed to several key defensive nodes within Aola, securing the rear.
On the other side, Theo reacted swiftly.
They did not issue useless diplomatic protests nor impulsively gather a massive force to immediately retake Ironwall Fortress.
They mobilized elite knight brigades, mage cohorts, and large numbers of alchemical golems, hastening to the border; at the same time, they massed troops on the more open Gray Ember Plain south of Ironwall Fortress, constructing connected camps, trenches, and towers to form a formidable defensive line named the Unbreakable Wall, intended to block Aola’s southern thrust.
Yet Theo did not remain purely defensive.
They chose proactive strikes as well, directing attacks toward Aola border points like the Shadowwood, Oxidation Gorge, Dragonfang Pass, and the Steel Ridge — attacking to force Aola to defend and thus tie down their forces.
After the first month of troop deployments, probing engagements, and tactical setup, the shape of the war quickly solidified.
Ironwall Fortress, Greenvale, Normann Pass, Drywind Hills, Palmer Highlands, Gray Ember Plain, Shadowwood, Oxidation Gorge, Dragonfang Pass, Steel Ridge.
Around these ten strategic points, bloody seesaw battles erupted across the board.
Each stronghold became a grinder of flesh and bone.
The Golden Alchemy Kingdom held advantages in a more mature, perfected command system, trained officer corps, and advanced alchemical industry, giving them superiority in organization and equipment, while Aola suffered from generally weaker individual quality among its follower races, brutal but fewer leader-level combat units, and a lack of alchemical armaments, placing them at a disadvantage.
Lines shifted repeatedly, positions changing hands again and again.
Both sides paid heavy tolls, but neither could secure a decisive breakthrough.
Legendary weaklings still watched from the sidelines, seeking the chance for a decisive blow or an opening to intervene.
Stalemate became the main theme.
Two months slid past in this draining consumption, deep autumn turning into early winter.
The Gray Ember Plain, Theo’s forward command.
Fine snow began to fall from the lead-gray sky, blending with the smoke and scorched earth of the plain; inhaling the air carried the bite of ice and ember.
The watchtower.
A tall, erect figure stood like a spear planted in the tower, wind tugging at his deep-blue general’s cloak.
Rodrigo Krowen, Theo Kingdom’s overall commander for this war, holder of the title "Shield of Theo."
His light-gray eyes pierced the snowfall, staring at the scarred frontline in the distance,
where occasional blasts lit the horizon and muffled fighting echoed, yet the whole still maintained a cruel balance.
Rodrigo was born into the Krowen family, famed for loyalty and military skill.
Generations of the family had wielded arms for Theo’s royal house and were praised as the “Kingdom’s Shield.”
Rodrigo himself had proven his worth.
His legendary defense of Hawkbeak Gorge against overwhelming odds, his ruthless suppression of the great lord rebellions, and his outstanding performance in the first Lothrian civil war forged his prestige and authority.
He was not a legend himself, but he had the authority to mobilize legendary forces.
After standing in the cold for about a quarter of an hour, Rodrigo wrapped his cloak tighter and descended the watchtower, returning to the warm but heavy-atmosphere command room.
A massive war table nearly filled the center of the room.
It bristled with dense red and blue tokens representing the opposing forces, interlocked around the ten strategic points, presenting a suffocating stalemate.
The war had lasted three months.
Every small movement on the table represented the loss of hundreds or thousands of lives.
Rodrigo remained upright while a floating communication crystal at his side pulsed faintly, feeding him real-time frontline reports into his ear.
"Report! The Seventh Cavalry successfully repelled the third aerial strike by the Golden-Plumed Griffon corps on the Drywind Hills, but anti-airgun arrays suffered heavy losses and require resupply."
"Normann Pass urgently requests aid! The Eight-Headed Calamity and its forces have broken through the outer defenses and are assaulting the second barrier — the garrison is under severe pressure!"
"Dragonfang Pass bulletin: During our corps’ assault, the flanks were hit by a high-speed raid from the Crimson Iron Riders. Casualties exceed forty percent. Positions have contracted; reinforcements and supplies are urgently needed!"
"Greenvale saw seven small-scale skirmishes today, mutual casualties, frontline unchanged."
.....
As he listened to each report, Rodrigo’s expression remained placid as water, only the line of his jaw tightening slightly.
His adjutant Torres handed him a just-compiled parchment report in a low voice.
"In the past week, total military casualties are over eight thousand seven hundred, with four thousand two hundred confirmed dead, sir. At this pace of attrition, our reserve manpower and material stocks..."
He did not finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.
Rodrigo scanned the numbers quickly, then set the report gently at the edge of the war table.
"Estimates on enemy casualties?"
he asked in a steady voice.
"Based on frontline observations and intelligence, Aola’s weekly casualties are estimated at around ten thousand."
"That sounds like a favorable number."
Torres paused, adding, "However, the majority of their casualties are low-tier auxiliaries like gnolls, kobolds, and lizardfolk."
"Ogres, ogre elites, centaurs, minotaurs, and the core elite guards directly under their lords have much lower casualty proportions."
"And... their soldiers recover quickly."
"Many wounds that for us would require evacuation, they treat simply or rely on rapid healing and can return to the front in days."
The physiological gap between monsters and humans had become a clear disadvantage in this long war of attrition.
More deadly was the arrival of deep winter.
Wind, snow, and cold battered human soldiers’ morale and bodies, while the wilderness-born creatures endured much better.
"They are trading those wild scraps of lives for our soldiers’ lives," Rodrigo said with razor-sharp eyes. "And we are forced to accept that exchange."
Using precious human troops to trade lives with kobolds and gnolls that breed like weeds was a losing bargain to any commander.
Torres fell silent for a moment.
He asked in a low voice, "Commander, more than one frontline general has asked... how long will this stalemate continue? The soldiers are exhausted; many units cannot get full rest rotations, and the burden of evacuating the wounded grows heavier."
Rodrigo did not answer immediately.
He turned his gaze to the war table and peered carefully.
Ten strategic points were circled in red; supply lines extended like webs and were flagged as high-risk in multiple places.
"Aola’s intent is clear," he said at last, pointing at Ironwall Fortress and the other strike points. "Use Ironwall Fortress as a solid pivot to launch attacks on all sides, while holding the dangerous terrain of the wilderness to solidify defense. Their purpose is to force us to constantly split troops and exhaust ourselves across their chosen points."
"This is an overt scheme we must respond to, or the line will be pierced point by point."
"There is... a clever architect behind them."
Rodrigo raised his eyes toward the direction on the table that represented Aola’s interior, as if he could see through walls to the iron dragon’s cold pupils.
From available intelligence, he knew the Red Iron Dragon Emperor had handed military command of Aola to his blood relative.
The Iron Dragon Regent, the war prince of Aola.
And his performance had earned the emperor’s favor.
Rodrigo withdrew his gaze and shifted to a decisive tone: "Order the summons of all commanders for an emergency war council here, and contact the capital at the highest encryption level. I must request authorization from His Majesty."
"Yes, Commander!"
Not long after, at the command center.
Generals of Theo’s frontline sat along both sides of a long table.
Their faces were weathered by long campaigns; eyes grave, the room filled with pipe smoke and the faint tang of leather armor and iron.
Rodrigo stood at the head.
Behind him, a massive magical projection displayed the Gray Ember Plain and surrounding battle map, light dots moving slowly, representing unit after unit.
"Comrades," he dispensed with formalities and spoke plainly, "the war has reached the end of its third month."
"We have been locked in seesaw battles with Aola’s forces at the ten strategic points, costing us over sixty-seven hundred casualties."
"We have held the main lines and prevented a strategic breakthrough, but we have failed to retake Ironwall Fortress, and we have not delivered any decisive annihilating blow to the enemy."
He paused, scanning each general’s face.
"The situation has become a stalemate, and that stalemate is slowly draining our blood."
An old general with a fresh scar on his face, commander of the Third Corps, said in a deep voice: "Commander, it is not that our soldiers do not fight."
"Those monsters... their individual ferocity far exceeds ordinary soldiers. Their lords often require deployment of high-level alchemical golems or the convergence of several same-rank combatants to be barely countered."
"In frontal attrition, our human flesh simply... cannot afford it."
Aola may not surpass Theo in the number of top-tier legends, but in mid-to-high-level powerful lords and their core followers, they held a troubling advantage.
Theo’s alchemical golems and equipment were more advanced.
Yet against thick-skinned, monstrously strong foes, even that required a heavy price to win.
It seemed their superior alchemical industry was merely some set of gimmicky tricks.
"This is the crux, and why we cannot continue like this."
Rodrigo nodded in agreement, then changed course. "Therefore, from today we will change our strategy and stop playing by their rules."
He stepped aside and signaled a court mage standing in the room’s corner to come forward.
"Allow me to reintroduce the pinnacle of our alchemical engineering — the 'Sky Eye' strategic magic satellite."
"Master Elven, please explain its full strategic functions to everyone."
The court mage representative, caster Elven, walked forward clutching a staff inlaid with amethyst. Though advanced in years, his eyes were still keen as an eagle’s.
With a tap of his staff, a complex, precise three-dimensional magic diagram composed of countless glowing runes and lines materialized in midair.
"As you all know, the Sky Eye has long provided crucial battlefield surveillance, communications relay, and weather forecasting support."
"But its capabilities extend far beyond that."
He tapped the staff again and the diagram shifted to show various displays.
"The Sky Eye carries three strategic-grade magic arrays."
Elven explained each in turn.
"First: the beyond-visual-range precision delivery array."
"It can lock onto any exact coordinate on the frontline from the rear, with an error no greater than ten meters, and deliver formed units, equipment, or supplies from orbital space directly to the target location, completely ignoring terrain and enemy obstructions."
"Given Aola’s alchemical industrial level, they are entirely incapable of preventing our satellite deliveries."
A suppressed murmur of astonishment rippled through the room, young generals wearing shocked expressions.
"Second: the Holy Healing Rain array."
"It can project a high-concentration rain of life and energy over a designated area, dramatically accelerating wound healing and stamina recovery for our soldiers, temporarily enhancing the combat effectiveness of chosen commanders or units."
"The third, and most offensive: the orbital precision strike array."
"By gathering and directing energy from space to a ground point or small area target, it can unleash devastating bombardments."
The room fell into a brief hush, broken only by the faint hum of the magic diagram.
Some senior generals seemed already to know and wore grave but steady looks; others could not hide their astonishment.
Clearly, not everyone had been fully aware of the satellite’s entire strategic breadth; most of Theo, including rank-and-file soldiers and junior officers, only knew the satellite provided reconnaissance.
"If it is so formidable, why haven’t we used it before?"
A cavalry general from a western province could not hide perplexity and a trace of grievance as he demanded.
Elven’s gaze turned to Rodrigo.
Rodrigo took the question and replied in a steady voice: "Because the cost is enormous, and it signifies a strategic escalation."