Chapter 1 The Dust

In the port district, Lister, who was directing the garrison to resist the attack while trying to maintain the port's operation, suddenly looked up, staring blankly in the direction of the city-state.

Within the city-state, mysterious, twisted structures were emerging and appearing above the normal streets, the distant earth was warping and inverting, faint, thorny phantoms covered the mountains, and chaotic, disordered light and shadows were descending from the illusion—yet in this terrifying and bizarre scene, a kind of delicate and pale "dust" suddenly fluttered and scattered down.

The pale dust appeared in the sky out of nowhere, falling like the first snow of winter, passing through the overlapping phantoms and twisted, alien blocks, scattering little by little on the Frosty streets—weightless, yet seemingly endless.

Where the dust fell, the city-state, already blurred and chaotic due to overlapping phantoms, seemed to suddenly become "distinct" again, even if only for a moment, even if only a slight change, Lister clearly saw that there was a boundary between the phantoms and the real streets again.

But at this moment, he had no time to think about what was happening, or even about his fate in the next minute.

The roar of steam walkers firing and the distant booming of coastal artillery pulled him back to reality.

"Keep those freaks out of the dock area!" Lister shouted to the soldiers and commanders as he passed through the walkways between buildings, through the defenses made up of steam walkers and makeshift barricades. "Ensure the fuel depot and ammunition channels are clear! The port must not fall!"

Gunsmoke filled the air, mixed with the pungent smell of blood, machine oil, and the dried mud, a steam walker was destroyed, and immediately another spider machine rushed out of cover, maintaining the fragile line of defense.

And inside this line of defense were the battered dock facilities, and teams running between the port buildings.

Lister went to a high point and looked towards the docks.

When the monsters poured out of the thick fog, the port almost fell, and he and his soldiers paid a great price to clean up the contamination within the port area and build a defense line on the road leading to the city-state, which they have been defending until now.

According to the last external communication, this is now the only operating port in Frost—the other ports are either still in fierce contention, or have been lost, or are unable to operate due to critical facilities being severely damaged.

He must keep this place running at all costs—because the naval front is already in critical condition, and if they lose their only coastal support, the city-state's navy will be finished.

But… with another terrifying, twisted city-state gradually invading reality, can this place really be defended?

Lister turned his head, took one last look at the deformed land, rising from the city-state like a swollen abscess, and tried to ignore its gradual spread towards the port, turning away from the defense line and returning to the defense headquarters.

It was just as busy here, with officers and staff looking harried, reports from all over were not optimistic, and the calls and beeps of various radio communication devices rang non-stop.

A communications soldier was sitting in the corner of the room, hoarsely repeating into the radio, "Attention all ships in the near sea, this is East Port, we still exist, repeat, we still exist—this is the only safe supply port, do not approach other ports…"

Lister went straight to a subordinate.

"'Laurel' is replenishing ammunition and repairing the ammunition elevator, her sister ship has lost power and is being towed back by a barge, we still have plenty of ammunition, fuel and fresh water, but the crane on pier four has been damaged and is paralyzed…"

Lister listened with a grim face, and then, hurried footsteps came from the side, and another junior officer came to him, looking nervous: "Sir, there's a situation…"

"There's a situation everywhere now," Lister said loudly, "Report directly!"

"Yes, a ship is requesting to enter the port for repairs, it's… a ship from the Sea Fog Fleet," the junior officer said with a complex expression, "The undead on board say their transmission mechanism is faulty and the ship's repair equipment can't handle it."

Lister was stunned for a moment, then three seconds later, he gritted his teeth: "Let them enter the port, help them repair it as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir."

The subordinate left, and Lister quickly came to the window, observing the situation on the sea.

A warship belching thick smoke was slowly approaching the repair dock, the banner of the Frost Queen fluttering at the bow, and in the more distant sea, debris floated everywhere.

"Half a century… this flag has finally returned to Frost in this way…"

Lister muttered subconsciously.

But the next second, a commotion suddenly came from the direction of the corridor, interrupting the port defense commander's exclamation.

"What's going on now?" he turned his head and asked loudly.

A soldier pushed the door in nervously and hurriedly, looking embarrassed as he said to the commander, "Sir! There are two… ordinary citizens, two girls, I don't know how they got in, they insist on talking to you…"

"Ordinary citizens? Arrange for them to take shel—" Lister opened his mouth subconsciously, but he only got halfway through the sentence when a flurry of loud noises quickly approached from the corridor, and then he heard a young girl's voice shouting outside—

"Get out of the way, all of you! Let me tell you, we really have something important to say!"

Tirian slowly opened his arms, facing the sea that was gradually turning into a black mirror.

"The fire is lit, are you there?"

Thus, the Frost Sea opened its eyes.

"I am."

(End of this chapter)