Chapter 39: Welcome to the Purgatory of Mankind.

Seeing the light curtain close, Sherria could no longer contain her astonishment: “Mitia, do you know what you are doing right now?!”

Sherria looked at Mitia as if she were looking at a madwoman — the enemy was already so strong and she still wanted a full-scale assault???

“I of course knew what I was doing. I was bringing about the birth of an unprecedentedly great nation, and you were its witness. You should feel honored, Sherria.”

“Great?”

Sherria stared at her in disbelief: “I won’t even argue whether your country can be formed, but starting now a lot of people will definitely die!”

Sherria had not been ignorant of the power of Astal’s weapons; weapons of that level might seem clumsy before the truly powerful, playthings to toy with.

But in front of mid- and low-level mage-knights they were overwhelmingly lethal, and on top of that were these people whom Mitia had driven from despair to rage to the brink of losing their reason.

Whether Mitia could win or not, the destructive power she and her people could inflict would be unprecedented on the Magic Continent.

“People will die?”

Mitia stopped and looked at the slight Sherria and asked back: “Were there not already enough deaths? Do you know how many people used to die in a single winter?”

“Oh, you didn’t know, you couldn’t see it, but I could — and so could they. You could despise their weakness; they could live humbly, but nobody had the right to trample them like cockroaches or bugs.”

“They knew even better than you did. Most of them would die, but their flesh and bones would merge with this land. Either they would die as quietly as before, or they would together lift up an entirely new nation that belonged to them.”

“That would indeed kill many people.

Welcome to the human purgatory.

An age full of despair, terror, tragedy, hope, dreams, and missions!”

“All you needed to do was follow me to watch, to welcome, to witness!”

Sherria stared blankly at Mitia’s departing figure; she did not understand why a long-lived witch would say such things — shouldn’t she, like them, look on coldly from above?

Still, Mitia was right: since she did not understand, she would go and see — to see this story she had never witnessed before, one so interesting.

Mitia pushed open the door of the operations meeting room; the officers inside all stood up with a rustle, shoulders back and chests out, looking at her with eyes full of fire.

Mitia smiled as she swept her gaze around: “The operation had officially begun. Let us together turn those invaders into sacrifices.”

The officers who had been swept by her gaze straightened their posture even more to answer her scrutiny.

“If I failed, I would die with you. But I would not fail.”

“This war would have only two outcomes: either the enemy annihilated us, or we annihilated the enemy.”

“Perhaps tonight our words would soon be forgotten, but our actions would be renowned for generations!”

Having committed their faces to memory, Mitia turned and walked outward:

If I was unlucky enough to fail, then wrap my body in the party flag.

“Victory!”

Seeing her raise her arm, everyone raised their hands at the same time and shouted in unison:

“Victory!!!”

The snowy night was especially cold.

On a tower above a large building by the tracks.

Four sentries, wearing thick cotton coats, held thermoses and stood by an iron-framed glass window, looking out at the world wrapped in heavy snow.

They were the Astal Territory’s rail guards, distributed along Astal’s crisscrossing rail lines in units based on companies.

They were specifically responsible for patrol inspections and for driving off or hunting down magical beasts that entered the warning zone; they also handled certain territorial defense tasks.

“Andel, keep an eye on things. I’ll go out and check whether the firing slits have frozen shut.”

“All right! Be careful.”

Andel replied and started the searchlight to sweep around, while Roy set down his thermos, put on gloves, and pulled open the thick steel door.

As the door was drawn open, the fierce cold wind, carrying snow, rushed into the room.

He shivered, then slipped out into the wind and snow.

The other two also went to the smaller windows to adjust the spotlights and check for anomalies.

Roy, who was outside, skirted the small building against the wind and cleared the accumulated snow from each firing slit.

The large temperature difference between inside and out easily caused the snow to melt and freeze in the slits, making them hard to open, so they came out from time to time to clear them, and to blow away sleepiness.

After clearing each slit and checking whether the tarpaulins covering the heavy machine guns had been scattered by the snow, he felt a warmth fill his whole body from the exertion.

“Woo—!”

A familiar long whistle sounded in the distance, penetrating the night’s wind and snow and echoing across the silent plain.

Roy hurriedly walked to the side closer to the tracks, and the three inside the house also ran out when they heard the sound.

Through the falling snow, Roy could faintly make out that the comrades in the corresponding tower across the way had done the same.

“Woooo!!!”

The roar grew louder with the whistle as it approached.

A huge, grim steam locomotive burst through the thick snow mist before them, its crimson flag on top whipping wildly in the wind.

“All present, salute!”

As they stood at attention and saluted, the steam locomotive thundered past quickly, revealing a long line of flatcars behind it, neatly loaded with new trucks and artillery.

Watching the steam train, laden with a large amount of equipment, speed away, the few who had lowered their hands could not help but show envy on their faces.

“These are for the frontline units, right? Good stuff!”

“Damn, artillery! When will they allocate some to us?”

“I’m more curious what those things in front are used for.

I saw wheels — maybe they work like carriages?”

“Woo—!!!”

Their conversation was interrupted by that sound; they again stood at attention to wait for the next steam train to pass.

This time the cars behind the locomotive were passenger coaches, full of soldiers bound for the front.

Tonight no one in Astal slept.

All the steam stations in the territory were brightly lit; truck after truck and artillery pieces were loaded onto flatcars, and batch after batch of soldiers filed into the carriages.

Astal’s transport lines were sending troops, supplies, and ammunition outward in high-frequency waves.

All of Astal’s magicians, Mitia included, had been assigned to various trains as relay stations for information collection and distribution so the logistics department could coordinate real-time routing.

After about two waves of transport, the remaining boxed trucks were all half-tracked with front wheels and rear treads — these were the ones properly meant to work with infantry in combat.

They were called trucks, but due to engine limitations their load capacity was not great; they could not carry many people and had little space.

Their main purpose was to transport ammunition and supplies and to tow artillery — functioning as small mobile supply depots.

But Mitia was already satisfied; something was better than nothing, and the rear’s scientific craftsmen were working overtime to optimize and improve things.

Everything was moving in a positive direction.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.