Chapter 1579: Chapter 1579: The Deadly wait

".Are we truly going to lose the strait today!" the general muttered in dread, his voice trembling as if the words themselves were poison on his tongue. The ground behind him convulsed once more as yet another wave of blazing meteors plummeted from the heavens, striking like divine hammers. In the span of a heartbeat, more than a thousand soldiers were torn apart, their screams drowned in the deafening roar of falling stars. The acrid smell of charred flesh and iron filled the air, and a suffocating wave of dust and heat rolled across the battlefield. This brutal clash was but one of countless battles erupting across the planet. At present, the Shattering Meteor Empire held dominion over roughly one-third of the world's surface - a single sprawling continent - and that landmass was under siege from every conceivable direction: armies surged by land, fleets carved through the seas, and endless wings of aerial fighters rained down death from above. The Allies were relentless, desperate to carve out even the smallest foothold. Yet the Shattering Meteor Empire did not merely defend. They launched suicide squads to infiltrate and wreak havoc in occupied territories. Meanwhile, Allied forces gouged open the soil, poisoning it with corruption to weaken the planet's spirit itself as they chased a singular, terrible goal - the heart. Should the heart of the planet be unearthed or destroyed, the world would wither, its spirit extinguished, and the war would conclude in catastrophic finality. Everywhere war raged. Across plains, seas, mountains, and skies, soldiers perished by the hundreds every passing second. Yet here - in this treacherous shallow strait where the seabed rose just enough to bear the weight of marching armies - here lay the crucible of the fiercest struggle. This narrow throat of land was more than terrain; it was the very key to survival. If the Allies won in any other theater, the Shattering Meteor Empire could counterstrike, regroup, adapt. But to lose here. to lose the strait. was unthinkable. For if the strait fell, the Allies would claim an eternal bridgehead. A never-ending torrent of soldiers would flood into the final continent daily, a tidal wave of steel and blood. The devastation they would unleash would consume everything - forests, rivers, cities, and fortresses alike. It would not simply be a setback. It would mark the final wave, the death knell of resistance.