Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports Chapter 213: The Lord threw a sun

Roke watched the colossal creature writhe in the mountain path, its flesh surging, Worm-Eaten Household corpses falling like a tide. His lips trembled slightly, and a chill spread through his heart.

He quietly glanced at Louis, who was higher up, trying to discern even a hint of panic or hesitation on the Lord’s face.

But what he saw was a faint smile.

“You’ve arrived,” Louis murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m not afraid of you coming out; I’m afraid of you hiding and refusing to erge.

Since you’re willing to leave your shell, this matter becos much simpler.”

He raised his hand and waved it decisively, his voice not loud, but carried by the command flag through the wind and snow, reaching the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) eyes of every squad along the defense line:

“Heavy Magic Bomb, prepare.”

“Yes!” The knight squad in the distance responded in unison.

The artilleryn, already ambushed behind the earthen wall on the mountainside, swiftly took action. Heavy tripods landed with a “clunk,” as stable as rock.

Imdiately, a large, pitch-black Magic Bomb was lifted into the loading slot, its casing glowing with a faint, cold light.

That was Silco’s proudest invention.

And at this mont, he stood by the fourth-floor high window of the main earthen castle, his elbows propped on the windowsill, gazing at the colossal body of the Mother Nest slowly crawling out of the forest valley.

It was a horrifying monstrosity, a giant mass of putrid flesh, insect shells, and venom glands stitched together; mucus and insect corpses continuously poured from its body, covering the entire mountain path like a moving plague.

But Silco showed no fear.

Instead, he smiled, his eyes gleaming with a mad light, muttering, “Only an opponent like this is worthy of my Magic Bomb. Today, let see your true power.”

Above the high ground, Louis watched the Mother Nest’s movent trajectory without blinking, assessing the wind direction, terrain, elevation, and enemy density.

After completing his ntal calculations, he raised his right hand, slowly bringing his fingers together like a blade, pointing directly at the pulsating, swollen nucleus sac in the Mother Nest’s chest and abdon.

“Fire.”

As Louis’s words fell, the knight pulled the trigger without hesitation.

“Boom—!”

The Magic Bomb launcher roared, spewing a violently trembling, blue-white incandescent light.

The tripod suddenly recoiled, the heavy kickback shaking the ice and snow, making the ground subtly tremble.

Unlike traditional Magic Bombs, this Magic Bomb was a condensed, massive energy body, emitting a soul-stirring, scorching low hum as it flew, like the fire of divine retribution falling from the sky.

The Mother Nest sensed it.

Not through its eyes, as it had no true sense of sight.

But through instinct, a perception etched deep within a creature’s primitive genes, only activated in the fleeting mont before death.

At that mont, it paused.

Its massive arthropod body trembled slightly in the snow, all its tentacles stilled, even the parasitic insect corpses halted as if sensing the main brain’s anomaly.

The incandescent light falling from high above, without any sound, possessed more oppression than a storm, more destructive power than a volcano.

A strange emotion arose in its will.

Not anger, not vigilance, not the hunger of a predator—but fear.

True fear.

It could not understand what this was, could not na it, and could not even find a reference in its instincts.

It only knew that if it didn’t flee, this thing would make it disappear.

But it was already too late. In the re hesitation of its chaotic thoughts, the firelight had arrived.

“Thud!!!”

The explosion instantly engulfed that section of the mountain path. Within a core diater of about fifty ters, the surface rock lted into flowing, crimson magma from the high temperature.

All Worm-Eaten Households, whether weak or enhanced individuals, were directly vaporized before they could even let out a cry of agony, leaving no trace behind.

Beyond the blast center, the high-temperature shockwave swept across eighty ters of the hillside like a sky-burning inferno.

The air current, like a burning giant wall, crushed down, throwing and engulfing insect corpses, mud, and shattered rocks.

Those insect swarms not destroyed at the blast center also ignited in the air current, their bodies charred, writhing, and collapsing, emitting a series of popping sounds.

And the colossal Mother Nest, its sensory system struggled to decipher the mass of light and fla descending from the sky.

Yet, it could only capture countless fragnted signals within its neural network: intense heat, distortion, alienness, lethality.

Its carapace ultimately could not withstand this ultimate firepower, a fusion of alchemy and magic energy.

The heart sac between its chest and abdon was precisely hit; in the high temperature, its swollen internal organs burst, insect fluid boiled, and black smoke billowed like a poisonous cloud into the valley sky.

Multiple deep cracks appeared on the surface of its shell, and its tentacles were torn and scattered by the shockwave, breaking like dead branches.

Those enhanced Worm-Eaten Households, once deed irrecoverable, lost their last reliance under this strike. Their bone armor lted, their venom sacs exploded, making reconstruction impossible.

The firelight had not yet extinguished; in the scorched pit, only a burning remnant of a body remained, struggling, trembling, and disintegrating between the flas and the cold snow.

This was civilization’s judgnt upon savagery; it completely failed to comprehend the infinitely evolving malice of humanity.

After a few minutes, at the edge of the scorched pit, the flas still hadn’t died down, and the mountain wind, laden with heat and black smoke, howled through the mountain path.

The Mother Nest no longer existed, only a carbonized remnant, continuously collapsing and disintegrating on the ground, like consud sin turning to dust, carried away by the wind.

Silco stood on the high platform of the earthen castle, the strong wind disheveling his ssy hair, and the firelight reflecting flickering flas in his eyes.

“Ah, this is art!” he murmured, almost wanting to dedicate an aria to his own designed Magic Bomb. “Precise, violent, thorough purification—perfect. So perfect it makes one want to cry.”

And at the very mont of the explosion, the entire earthen building suddenly shook.

It wasn’t a swaying motion, but a shock originating from deep underground, a thunderous tremor like a roaring mountain.

Wooden planks on the walls groaned, window fras shook out dust, oil lamps hanging from beams swayed violently, and so people lost their footing, screaming and crouching down.

Roke was leaning against the window opening, ready to shout, “Steady, don’t panic,” but then the next second, a “Boom—!”

The tremor suddenly intensified, and a thunderous roar ca from outside the mountain, as if the air itself had ignited.

At that mont, the earth seed to have been struck by a mighty punch from the heavens.

He felt as if his soul had been sucked out, his legs went weak, and he fell to the ground with a “thud,” his backside aching, but he couldn’t feel the pain because he had seen it.

He personally witnessed that sun-like Magic Bomb descend from the sky, landing directly above the Mother Nest’s heart sac, and then exploding.

That was not an explosion; that was the coming of the apocalypse.

The Mother Nest, like a giant chunk of at thrown into purgatory, rapidly festered, disintegrated, and burned into charcoal in the flas.

Boiling insect fluid and burning tissues burst open together, black smoke surging like a poisonous dragon erging from its abyss, rising towards the sky.

The entire valley seed to have been punched by a giant god; the terrain was instantly reshaped, incandescent flas surged, scorched pits overflowed, and tentacles scattered.

Roke watched, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, but he couldn’t utter a single word.

Only one thought remained in his mind:

The sun had fallen.

Roke finally couldn’t hold back, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, muttering, “...The sun—the sun burned that big monster to death—”

“What? What sun?” A stir went through the crowd.

“What did you say? Is the monster really dead?”

“Explain it clearly! Hurry, explain it clearly!!”

Soone pulled him up from the ground, and he sat up abruptly like a startled pigeon, his eyes wide, gasping for breath, shouting word by word:

“It’s true! The Lord threw a sun! It fell from the sky! It burned that monster, as big as a mountain, to nothing in one go!”

He was already incoherent with excitent: “It—it wailed on the mountain, struggled, rolled down with fire, and then ‘poof,’ it exploded!!! Do you understand? It exploded into ash!!”

He waved his arms, like a madman, yet also like a prophet who had witnessed a miracle: “I saw its shell crack with my own eyes! Its tentacles broke! All the insect fluid exploded out! The entire mountain path was burning!

That wasn’t fire at all, it was the wrath of a god! Believe —the Lord, he is the master of the sun!!!”

Inside the earthen building, after a brief silence, sothing ignited.

With a roar, cheers erupted like a flood.

“The sun! The sun!! The Lord threw a sun!!”

“We’re saved!!”

“The sun belongs to Red Tide!!”

The crowd cheered, knelt, shouted, and cried excitedly, as if the flas had also burned into their chests.

They couldn’t see the battlefield, only piecing together the terrifying and sacred strike in their minds through Roke, their temporary comntator.

But they knew one thing: this battle was won.

They had survived.

Their Lord had truly thrown down a sun.

On the other side, Louis stood on the high ground, his expression as calm as water.

The cold wind, carrying the scent of scorched earth after the explosion, blew from the depths of the valley, stirring his cloak.

Black smoke still billowed in the sky, reluctant to dissipate.

He did not look at the charred remains.

The boiling insect fluid, twisted carapaces, and burst tentacles held no aning in his eyes anymore.

What truly mattered was: the Mother Nest’s heart sac had been completely incinerated in the flas.

He slowly raised a hand, bringing his index and middle fingers together and sweeping them forward.

“Begin cleanup.”

His tone was not loud, but the surrounding knights imdiately sprang into action.

They stepped out onto the snow, clad in fire-resistant cold iron armor, carrying flathrowers with a faint hiss from their nozzles.

Orange-red magic flas, carrying suppressed fury, surged forth from the long barrels, dragging tongues of fire as they rushed out, as if fire snakes coiled at the muzzles suddenly leaped up, pouncing on the remaining insect corpses on both sides of the hillside.

Those injured, not yet dead, still-breathing deford creatures had barely begun to wriggle and struggle before they were engulfed by the incandescent flas.

The fire quickly penetrated their bodies along their carapaces and joint seams; the flas churned beneath their shells, and they twisted, convulsed, then monts later burst into charred chunks of flesh and tar.

The snow on the ground, licked by the flas, stead with mist and a burnt odor; the mud, mixed with insect fluid and lted snow, was step by step scorched into an empty battlefield.

Louis watched quietly, finally letting out a slow breath.

He rarely showed emotion during combat, especially in front of his knights.

But at this mont, he truly felt a sense of relief from the depths of his being.

They had saved Red Tide Territory.

The Mother Nest, that most difficult tumor to deal with, had been eradicated in one go.

It didn’t even have a chance to launch a counterattack before collapsing in the flas.

The threat from Snowpeak County was halved at this mont.

What did this an?

It ant his most important foundation was secure.

It ant that he could now free up more troops and resources to rescue other territories in Snowpeak County.

From the distant earthen castle behind him, a burst of cheers even reached him, which made him smile.