“I’m inclined to believe that the existence behind all of this is not a living being with strong subjective will.”

After summarizing all the intelligence they had gathered, Jie Ming spoke his conclusion.

“It’s more like… a non-living entity that operates according to a fixed, colossal program. As long as our awakening and contact do not touch its core directives or cause large-scale disruption, we may simply be judged as ‘tolerable error.’”

This speculation made the atmosphere in the room turn even stranger.

Inside Rex’s mansion, shielded by layers of technological countermeasures, the two newly allied “awakened” stared at the scattered fragments of intelligence they had collected and fell briefly into thought.

The eerily peaceful social atmosphere, the vast and authentic scale of the cosmos, the number of “fallen” that might far exceed their estimates, and the invisible, orderly network that covered everything…

All these clues pointed toward an unfathomably deep system behind the curtain.

Yet they remained like scattered pearls, lacking the single thread that could string them together.

“Every ‘anomaly’ seems to have been covered and digested by a powerful ‘order,’” Rex said, tapping the metal tabletop with his fingertips in a steady rhythm. “Except in one place…”

Jie Ming looked up and finished the sentence for him: “The frontline.”

Yes. Only in that star sector locked in war against the so-called “alien threat” was there a region of constant “chaos” and “conflict” within this enormous, peaceful, orderly universe.

If this “system” had any flaw, that place was undoubtedly where it was most likely to be exposed.

Having settled on their target, Jie Ming and Rex wasted no time and immediately took action.

Thanks to Rex’s reputation as a renowned young engineer on Anvil Star and several innocuous but military-favored technical optimization proposals he contributed, the two successfully obtained special passage permits and observer status to a frontline star system.

A few days later, they boarded a military fast-supply ship carrying spare parts and energy cores. After passing through several heavily guarded stargates, they arrived at the frontline planet codenamed “Iron Curtain.”

The moment they set foot here, both of them could clearly feel how different the environment of Iron Curtain was from the rear.

The sky was perpetually shrouded in thick, metallic-colored dust clouds. The surface was covered with reinforced permanent fortifications, radar arrays, and massive energy-shield generators.

The air carried the scorched smell of ozone and metal friction; an invisible tension permeated every corner of the base.

Thanks to Rex’s status as a “technical consultant” and the “friendly” technology he brought, they were invited by the base commander—a stern-faced middle-aged lieutenant general whose eyes carried deep fatigue.

Out of consideration for the technology they provided, the two received fairly courteous treatment.

Yet for the same reason, when they requested to observe frontline combat up close—even to visit the forwardmost outposts—they were flatly refused.

“Absolutely not!” The general’s tone left no room for negotiation. “You are valuable technical talents. The rear needs you more. The front is too dangerous—stray rounds, energy splash, those elusive infiltrators… I cannot let you take that risk. This is an order, and it is for your own good.”

No matter how much they stressed “the importance of data collection for technological improvement” or vaguely hinted at “higher-level authorization,” the commander would not budge.

In the end, they had to settle for second best.

They were permitted to stay at a heavily guarded observation post several hundred kilometers behind the actual firing line and “observe” a small-scale clash that had just broken out through remote sensing systems.

On the massive holographic sand table, dots representing friendly and enemy units violently collided within a rugged canyon zone.

Jie Ming and Rex locked their eyes on the enlarged, enhanced real-time battlefield feed displayed on the main screen.

Dozens of dark-crimson figures of varying shapes surged out from the canyon shadows, charging toward humanity’s automated defensive positions.

“That’s…”

Jie Ming’s pupils suddenly contracted.

Leading the charge were creatures that moved on four limbs, standing nearly three meters tall.

Their bodies were covered in a dark-red carapace resembling cooled lava. Blazing orange-red light leaked from their joints. As they ran, they left behind scorching footprints, and could spit plasma fireballs of extreme temperature from their mouths.

This appearance, this method of attack… they were exactly the cannon-fodder bio-beasts Jie Ming knew—Meltcore Hounds!

Only these Meltcore Hounds were larger, darker in color, and their joints were armored with mechanical battle plating.

Immediately afterward, another kind of creature gliding close to the ground like living shadow drew their attention.

They had almost no fixed form, resembling flowing black sludge.

Yet they could suddenly spring upward, using condensed sharp energy spike-limbs to effortlessly tear through light armor.

They excelled at attacking from visual blind spots and could even briefly jam electronic equipment.

“Void Predators…” Rex’s voice sounded beside him.

These were bizarre organisms that lived near spatial rifts, often captured and modified by wizards proficient in shadow and spatial sorcery to serve as scouts and harassers.

There were also flying units circling at high speed in the air, hurling balls of corrosive mucus.

And burrowing units that tunneled underground before suddenly erupting to wreck positions…

Among these “alien creatures,” many traits matched perfectly with the low-cost, easily controlled contracted beasts and elemental lifeforms commonly used in planar wars back in the wizard world.

They were not completely identical—details had been adjusted, apparently re-engineered using this plane’s technology.

Humanity’s defenders relied on automated turrets, energy shields, and soldiers in powered armor to resist tenaciously.

The light of explosions, the whistling of energy beams, and the screech of tearing metal reached them through the observation system, conveying the ferocity of battle.

Yet Jie Ming and Rex were no longer paying attention to that.

They exchanged a glance and saw sudden clarity in each other’s eyes.

“No wonder we could never find those cannon-fodder units. They were all sent here.” Jie Ming said.

Rex’s expression was grave. “There must be wizards among the human combatants, yet these creatures still attacked. That means even units with no sentience whatsoever are ‘covered’ by the illusion.”

“And apart from the familiar cannon-fodder types, there are many creatures on the battlefield we don’t recognize. I’m not sure if they belong to other unlucky transmigrators or native species, but it seems this world divides factions purely by appearance.”

Jie Ming nodded in agreement. He turned to look at the “alien creatures” on the battlefield.

“Over the years, the news almost never reports anything about creatures like these. It looks like, within the alien civilization, they’re classified merely as combat units or cannon fodder.”

Rex instantly understood what Jie Ming meant.

“In other words, the true aliens who wield these war weapons are still hiding deeper in the background.”