Volume 2 chapter 42
The war between the Demon Race and the Alliance ground to a halt, entering "garbage time"—a period of mutual probing and low-intensity skirmishes. Major pitched battles ceased.
However, the war in the sky remained ferocious. Demon fighter planes prowled the vast heavens like hawks hunting for prey, constantly searching for Alliance positions.
At any given moment, hundreds of fighters were on patrol. Facing this dispersed, high-altitude surveillance, the Alliance found themselves helpless.
If the planes clustered together, a dozen Eighth-Rank Knights could destroy them all. But the demons spread out. Hundreds of aircraft were scattered across thousands of kilometers of airspace. The Alliance's Eighth-Rank elites had to guard the ground camps and the sky; they simply didn't have the numbers to chase down every single patrol.
Seventh-Rank Knights could destroy a plane if they caught it, but they lacked the top speed to chase a diving fighter. They could only watch in impotent rage as the demon pilots opened the throttle and left them in the dust.
As for the Aerial Knights—Griffon and Wyvern riders—they were hopelessly outmatched.
They couldn't catch the planes, and they couldn't fight them. The Type-2 Fighter's quad-40mm cannons shredded even Sixth-Rank Knights and their mounts before they could get into range. Demon pilots would calmly climb to altitudes the beasts couldn't reach, then dive, lining up the knight in their sights. A single burst of cannon fire would turn rider and mount into a bloody mist.
Even if surrounded, the pilot just had to hit the afterburner (mana injection), and the Aerial Knights were left eating exhaust fumes.
Talisk Fortress Command.
"What? Insufficient production capacity?!"
Clyris slammed the report onto the table, shouting into the receiver in disbelief.
"Yes... Your Majesty. I... I am sorry to disappoint you..." Grayson's voice, coming all the way from the City of Darkness, was filled with guilt.
"This..." She collapsed into her chair, sighing as she looked at the blueprints spread on the table. "What exactly is the problem? Why can't we produce them?!"
On the table lay the blueprints for a rifle. To compensate for the low combat power of her demons against Alliance knights, Clyris had selected the Mosin-Nagant Bolt-Action Rifle from the System database. It was simple, rugged, and reliable—perfect for demons who had no concept of firearms.
She had specifically chosen this over more powerful automatic weapons to ease production.
And yet, Grayson was telling her they couldn't make it?
"Your Majesty, please quell your anger. It isn't that we lack the skill! It is that our steel... is insufficient!" Grayson sighed heavily. "Our current steel output is entirely consumed by aircraft, artillery, bombs, and landmines. There is no excess steel to produce rifles..."
"How can that be..." Clyris froze. Steel... insufficient?!
"There are no more people... Your Majesty!" Grayson's voice was heavy with exhaustion.
"There is no one left to expand production... Everyone has been... pushed to the limit! Your Majesty..."
No one left...
Right. The Demon Race had a total population of nine million. Every able-bodied demon was already in the factories or on the front lines.
The only reason the front lines could hold back the Alliance with oceans of firepower was because the rear was working itself to death. Without rest. Without pause.
Clyris silently hung up the phone. She looked at the dense technology tree in the System interface, a sense of profound powerlessness washing over her.
"Sigh..."
She exhaled, her heart heavy with frustration.
Suddenly, she noticed a small icon in the corner of the System interface—a square with several horizontal lines.
"Huh? What is this?"
Out of curiosity, Clyris tapped it. A prompt appeared.
[Enable Communication Function?]
[Yes / No]
She tapped Yes. The square expanded, revealing a blank page.
"What is this?"
As Clyris muttered to herself in confusion, the words simultaneously appeared as text on the page.
"What is this?"
"Eh?!"
She gasped in surprise. That word also appeared on the screen.
"Eh?!"
"What is happening? Communication? With whom?"
__________________
Ironwood Territory.
Charlo was deep in thought when a series of beeps in his mind interrupted him.
"Which bastard is @-ing me repeatedly?!"
He looked up in annoyance, then remembered where he was. There's no internet here. Where would an @ come from?
"Wait! Could it be..." He looked at the System, which he hadn't checked since his ascension. Sure enough, there were several red dots blinking.
"What is this Tencent QQ feeling..."
Charlo grumbled as he opened the interface. Immediately, a system notification popped up.
[Congratulations, Forerunner! You have successfully bound the Fourth Scourge System!]
[In the previous trial version, you gained a basic understanding of the System. However, you had not truly activated it. Now that you have met the minimum Psionic Requirement for this universe, the System is fully activated!]
[All functions are now open to you to provide comprehensive assistance! We hope you will do your utmost to lead human civilization's development.]
[Please remember: The Twilight has passed, and the Long Night approaches. Your time is short! Good luck, Forerunner! May you—reach the stars!]
"What does that mean?" Charlo stared at the text, baffled.
Minimum Psionic Requirement? Isn't that threshold a bit high? A Seventh-Rank Knight was a powerhouse in any empire—capable of flight, immune to small arms fire. And that's just the minimum entry requirement?
And what is this "Twilight has passed"? It gave him a bad feeling.
Is this some cliché apocalyptic trope where the world is about to end?
Charlo let his imagination run wild for a moment, then shook his head to clear it.
He looked at the bottom right corner of the interface and clicked on the blinking icon.
[Sub-System 01: Is anyone there?]
[Sub-System 01: How do I use this?]
[Sub-System 01: Oh—I think I get it!]
[Sub-System 01: Am I just talking to myself?]
"Sub-System 01... I remember..." Charlo stared at the spamming messages.
"That's Clyris!!"
He shouted aloud. He remembered now—that was the Demon Lord who had inexplicably received a Sub-System when he invaded her mind!
[Sub-System 01: You know me? Who are you?]
A new message appeared.
Charlo realized his shout had been transcribed and sent.
[Sub-System 01: Who are you? Why do you know me?]
Clyris questioned again, her tone noticeably sharper.
Charlo looked at his own username: [Main System]. Great. Very bot-like.
He changed the nickname to his own name, then typed.
[Charlo: It's me, Clyris!]
[Sub-System 01: You are Charlo?]
She was skeptical.
[Charlo: You got this System from me, right? Although I don't know exactly how, it must have happened when I was deep in your spiritual world! Does that prove it?]
Charlo smiled slightly. He didn't mention emotional details, using the System connection as proof.
Silence on the other end. It lasted so long Charlo thought she went offline.
[Sub-System 01: ...I believe you.]
Looking at her robotic username, Charlo couldn't help but chuckle.
[Charlo: Change your name too. Seeing that title makes me think I'm talking to an NPC...]
[Sub-System 01: NPC... what does that mean? By the way, how do I change it?]
[Charlo: ...Anyway, it's not a good title. Focus your mind on the name, hold it, and you can modify it.]
A moment later.
[Clyris: Is this right?]
[Clyris: Ah! Done!]
[Charlo: By the way, you were spamming messages. Is something wrong?]
Charlo finally asked. Clyris wouldn't bombard him with messages for no reason. She must be in trouble.
Even if he couldn't help directly, he could at least be a listener so she wouldn't spiral into depression again.
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