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The city itself sprawled across the foothills of the mountain range, perched on top of tall cliffs. At the bottom of the cliffs, an independent port-fortress stood at the edge of the water, surrounded by its own ring of walls. The fortress was much larger and better fortified than the one Sunny had departed the Northern Quadrant from, and the First Army did not spare any resources to reinforce it even further.

The port was connected to the city by a chain of industrial elevator platforms, which could haul a formidable amount of weight up and down. Due to that, the fortress could be supported by artillery fire from the city wall, and even if it fell, the enemy would have to scale the tall vertical barrier of the cliffs under a rain of defensive fire.

...Not that losing the port was an option, in the current situation.

Several alloy leviathans were currently anchored near the fortress, swaying on the waves and flooding the dark ocean with the moving beams of powerful searchlights. The city itself was grossly overcrowded, housing ten times its intended population. After all remaining siege capitals of the Antarctic Center had been evacuated here, Falcon Scott sheltered close to two hundred million people.

All of them were waiting for their turn to board the battleships and be transported over the strait, to the much better protected expanse of Eastern Antarctica, where the First Army was still maintaining a semblance of control. One of the four naval convoys had been reassigned to ferry people over, but even with the prodigious capacity of the massive vessels, it was going to take a while.

The fact that several of the battleships, like Naeve's former berth and the Ariadne, had been lost to the ravages of the Chain of Nightmares did not make the process faster.

'...That's more than half of the population of NQSC. Crazy.'

Sunny was looking at the live image of the city, which was projected onto a false window in one of the offices of the local government's complex. The city shone with a myriad of lights in the cold darkness of the polar night, with the ghostly aurora swirling eerily above. There were too many people everywhere, and most of them looked lost, disoriented, or outright defeated.

The larger part of the complex, of course, was located underground, so the window had to be fake. The complex also housed the regional branch of Army Command, which was why Sunny had received instructions to visit today.

With a sigh, he turned away from the window, walked to the conference table, and sat down.

Sunny was still wearing the Puppeteer's Shroud, but the difference was that he had been given time to sleep, take a proper shower, and eat a full meal. Much more important than that, the weight of tens of thousands of souls was not pressing down on him anymore. All in all, he looked pretty refreshed.

'Where is she...'

He did not have to wait long. A minute or two later, the door opened, and Master Jet walked inside.

Soul Reaper looked pretty much the same as she had the last time he saw her. Granted, she was wearing the usual bodysuit instead of battle armor today... ah, the bodysuit... but other than that, it did not seem like the hellish months of the Antarctic campaign had impacted her in a negative way.

Noticing Sunny, Jet smiled.

"Well, if it's not young Master Sunless, valiant slayer of abominations and savior of men. It's good to have you back, Sunny."

Sunny forced out a smile in return.

"Yeah... it's good to be back. How have the last two months treated you? Because, you know, I had it a bit rough."

Master Jet took a seat at the head of the table and gave him a humorous look.

"You have no one but yourself to blame. Who asked you to be such an overachiever? I sent you to retrieve one man, and you brought me forty thousand instead. I must say, if everyone here had this kind of attitude, the Chain of Nightmares would have been over in a week. Hell, we might have reclaimed America by now."

Sunny glanced at her darkly.

"No thanks."

Considering how many refugees were currently in Falcon Scott, forty thousand was not a large number. However, a few of those thousands were actual soldiers, and a couple more were experienced sailors. That was actually significant enough to make a splash, so the news of his return spread far and wide.

All of them - both the refugees and the soldiers - also seemed to be very fond of telling tales about the Devil's many exploits. Sunny was not entirely sure what kind of reputation he had earned, but he definitely had a reputation now. All throughout the city, people were familiar with his name.

...For better or worse.

"Oh... thanks for sending me your crow, by the way. It helped a lot."

Jet grinned, but before she could say anything, the door opened again. Winter and Dale entered and took their seats. With only the four Irregulars in the office, it seemed a bit empty.

Sunny looked around.

"...Where are Randal and Jesse?"

Master Jet lingered for a moment.

"They're dead."

He grew quiet.

"Oh."

Soul Reaper sighed, then picked up her datapad, scrolled through a few documents, and addressed them in a bright voice:

"Well then, let's begin. There's going to be a big strategy meeting in an hour for everyone important enough to attend, but before that, I should update you on the current situation. In the next few days, Falcon Scott is going to be besieged by an endless sea of abominations. Our task is simple: we must ensure that it doesn't fall for at least three weeks..."