Chapter 1429 - 1429: Try Moving Even One Finger

Clearford City…

Clearford City no longer looked anything like it used to.

The streets were wrecked. Buildings lay half-collapsed. Fires still burned in places, turning the air acrid and thick with smoke.

Before all this, Clearford had been one of the strongest compounds—second only to Fallen Star City and Atlas City. Its growth had been steady, its systems organized, its people proud.

Then the dimensional rifts opened.

Clearford survived several brutal battles… only to be taken in the end by a group of Flamekin.

And the Flamekin were monsters.

Cruel by nature, openly hateful toward humans. After they occupied the city, they treated enslaving humans like daily entertainment. If they woke up in a bad mood, they'd simply sweep a neighborhood in fire—then stand there listening to the screams, thrilled by the sound.

Since the occupation began, the number of humans burned alive that way had already climbed past a million.

Even General Cross—steady as he was—had reached the point where he'd wanted to throw everything away and fight those beasts to the death more times than he could count.

But every time, he swallowed it.

For the bigger picture.

For the people who would die even faster if he acted rashly.

Still… living like this every day, grinding his teeth through hell, had hollowed him out. In barely ten days, he'd become gaunt and exhausted, like the life had been drained straight from his bones.

"Still nothing from Fallen Star City?" General Cross asked, his bloodshot eyes fixing on his aide.

"Not yet," the aide said carefully. "But since Deputy Commander Fang said Ethan and the others are preparing to move, it should be… soon. Probably within the next few days."

"Alright." Cross waved a hand, dismissing him.

He knew he couldn't rush it.

But every extra day meant more people dying—more families erased in flames.

He didn't have the patience to wait.

He didn't have the stomach.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

A series of explosions shook the area.

Flames burst up around the building like someone had poured gasoline on the walls. Screams rose instantly from nearby rooms, sharp enough to cut through the smoke.

Everyone inside stiffened.

"Those bastards…" someone hissed. "What are they doing now?"

A shrill voice rang out from outside.

"Everyone in this house—get out here!"

The room went cold.

A bad feeling crawled up everyone's spine.

"How did they find this place all of a sudden?" Director Michael said, voice low. "Did they learn something?"

General Cross let out a slow breath, strangely calm. "Don't overthink it. If they're here, they already know we're here."

"But how?" Director Vaughn frowned. "We haven't even gone outside—"

He stopped mid-sentence as realization hit. His face darkened.

"…Someone told them."

"Enough guessing," General Cross said, and there was no fear on his face at all.

If anything, there was a flicker of relief.

"Since we've been exposed, we go out."

"General…" someone started.

No one wanted to walk into that.

But hiding wouldn't save them. Not now.

A moment later, they filed out.

Outside, a group of Flamekin stood at the entrance, watching them with cold, amused smiles—like people waiting for a show to start.

Farther back, countless humans watched from a distance. The moment they saw General Cross step out, faces tightened, alarm spreading through the crowd.

In front of the Flamekin, several people were already lying face-down on the ground, trembling, too terrified to lift their heads.

A Flamekin leader stepped forward—a man with a long knife scar across his face.

His gaze swept over the group.

"Which one of you is the leader of this city?" he asked.

"I am." General Cross stepped out, expression flat and steady.

"Good." The scarred man's grin turned ugly. "You hid pretty deep. If these people hadn't told me, I wouldn't have found you."

A man on the ground shook violently, tears spilling down his face as he slammed his forehead into the dirt again and again.

"General, I'm sorry… I didn't want to… they were going to burn my child alive. I couldn't— I really couldn't…"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

The others on the ground didn't speak.

They just pressed their faces harder into the earth, like if they buried themselves deep enough, the world would forget they existed.

"So it was you," one of Clearford City's officials snapped, rage shaking his voice. "After everything General Cross has done for you, you sold him out? Do you have any conscience left?"

Only a handful of people inside the compound even knew this hiding place existed.

And these few—were part of the liaison group responsible for keeping contact with General Cross's people.

Of course they knew.

No one had expected them to sell everyone out anyway.

The surrounding crowd erupted. Angry curses flew from every direction, people screaming until their throats went raw.

General Cross raised a hand, cutting the noise off.

He looked at the men prostrated on the ground. "You don't need to blame yourselves. We were going to be found sooner or later. This isn't on you."

Hearing that only made them press their faces deeper into the dirt.

"I'm sorry… General…"

"You're a terrible 'leader,'" the scarred Flamekin said, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. "We brought them here on purpose. Wanted to see you lose it and chop them to pieces."

He smirked. "And you don't even kill them. Boring."

"We humans don't think the same way you do… Flamekin," General Cross said evenly.

Monsters almost slipped out. He swallowed it at the last second—thinking of the millions still trapped in the compound, still breathing only because the Flamekin allowed it.

He kept his voice flat. Controlled.

"You didn't come all this way just to watch me execute a few people. So what do you want?"

"Haha. Of course not." The scarred man's grin widened, cruel and lazy. "You humans have been getting a little restless lately."

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.

"I wonder… if I hang you on the city wall for everyone to see, will they behave?"

"No…!" someone cried out.

General Cross hadn't even spoken yet, but the crowd around them started panicking, voices rising all at once.

Seeing their reaction only made the scarred man look happier.

"Hahaha. Since you care about him that much…"

His smile turned vicious.

"…then I have to hang him."

He waved his hand.

"Someone. Grab the old man. Hang him on the wall."

"Gladly."

A group of Flamekin strode forward with cold smiles.

And then—

The crowd moved.

People who'd been shaking in fear a moment ago suddenly stepped out, forming a human wall in front of General Cross.

They'd finally pushed past the terror.

They were staring the Flamekin in the face.

"Get back!" General Cross shouted.

"No, General!" someone yelled, voice cracking. "If something happens to you, Clearford City is finished! What's the point of crawling through life after that?"

"Yeah!" another shouted. "Clearford City doesn't raise cowards! We've been waiting for your order—just one word, and millions of us will stand together and fight these beasts!"

"Even if we can't kill them… we'll tear a piece off!"

"Better to die fighting than live like this!"

"Back!" General Cross snapped, harsher now, forcing command into his voice.

The people in front of him trembled with anger and grief, faces tight with unwillingness—but in the end, they still stepped back, because it was him.

Because he was the last thing holding the city together.

"Interesting." The scarred Flamekin looked entertained.

Then his eyes narrowed.

"Since you stepped out once… don't step back in."

He lifted a hand.

"Burn them all."

"You—!" For the first time, General Cross's calm mask cracked, his face going pale.

His voice dropped, heavy and urgent. "Hang me. I won't resist. But let them go."

The scarred man laughed like he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Haha. You say it like you could stop me if you did resist."

His grin sharpened.

"Kill them."

At his order, the Flamekin elites' faces lit with savage delight. Fire ignited in their hands, swelling into roaring heat.

And then—

The space above the ground between both sides suddenly tore open.

A dimensional rift split the air like a wound.

A cold voice followed immediately, carrying a pressure that made the flames seem to hesitate.

"Go ahead," the voice said, deadly quiet. "Try moving even one finger."

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