# Translation
Moving around, I can determine my position fairly accurately by orienting myself using distance, surrounding terrain, sunrise, sunset, and constellations to calculate my location.
Even with a map that has a large margin of error, it's still a military map. Despite its imprecise scale, it boasts the maximum amount of information that can be marked on paper.
Therefore, Ivan could calculate his current position and the maximum distance Taurus could advance within two days.
Ten villages lie within marching distance along the infiltration route. Among them, five villages would have actually been plundered.
'Bertomang must have fallen.'
Without any prior preparation, this wasn't an invasion that a local lord far from the frontlines could respond to.
Ivan was walking through a burned village.
-Crack. Squish.
He stepped on a blackened, charred corpse at his feet. It was a cleanly stripped tibia bone. Female, and of adult size at minimum.
A long shadow stretched over his body. A structure blocking the setting sun was watching him. He turned his head.
There was a pile of bones.
'Are they from Tumur's direct imperial infantry?'
The footprints around were those of adult Taurus. Among Taurus and Orcs, only Tumur's infantry would commit such "inefficient acts" with "food."
While necromancers or other demons like daemons might occasionally perform such acts for magical rituals, Taurus did not.
These stupid creatures viewed humans as food.
Therefore, this behavior—piling up corpses and setting them on fire, with some bodies bizarrely twisted and hung on poles—was abnormal. This was a sacrifice for Tumur.
'A high-ranking demon capable of conducting rituals must be leading this group.'
He needed to raise the threat level of these creatures. At minimum, a centurion-level soldier was leading an elite force of at least a thousand troops in this raid.
Passing through a village with no survivors, Ivan unfolded the map in his mind again.
Red dots spread radially from the Bernini Mountains. Like the Black Death contaminating green meadows.
'Moramdon, Rudmiyu, and Dmonmor could still be classified as safe areas.'
He stretched his legs and chewed on an energy bar. He pictured the territories still in the early stages of invasion and thought about where survivors might flow if there were any in this territory.
The nearest Moramdon is a small territory of about four villages. Rudmiyu at least has a fortified stronghold. The vast plains extending from Dmonmor lack proper defensive lines.
If they must engage in battle with the demon army, they would need at least equal numbers. Since Taurus has mobility comparable to cavalry.
In that case...
'Moramdon alone isn't enough. At least four territories need to gather.'
Assuming he wasn't there, to stop the current Taurus forces with just the troops from nearby territories, at least four small local territories the size of Bertomang would need to gather.
When those territories gathered and secured minimal military power, what would the Grand Marquises attempt to do in front of the lords who had gathered to stop the demons?
'If they gather under the name of Etakrihi and check the Grand Marquises...'
Guillaume's plan to head to Upper Matilenne, worshipped as the hero who saved the country, would collapse. The demons would be stopped by his hand, and he would lead the gathered lords' troops toward Upper Matilenne in crisis.
At that point, all Guillaume could do would be to block these lords with his own forces. Then his masquerade would end. From that moment, he would be nothing more than a rebel.
In aristocratic politics, justification is that important.
If Guillaume, having lost justification, attempted battle, that moment would be his last.
While cutting apart scattered forces one by one requires much time and effort...
Cutting off the enemy's leadership from within unified forces is a familiar task. Surely Guillaume's military camp couldn't be more formidable than the royal palace of the Seven Dragons.
Ivan clicked his tongue and stretched his body. After feeling the energy bar dissolve in his stomach, he kicked off the ground and began to sprint.
Bertomang, a small territory consisting of a few slash-and-burn settlements and minor trading posts, fell in less than half a day after the Taurus invasion.
Only a small number of survivors, including the lord, Baron de Noir, managed to escape Bertomang. With barely fifty territory residents maintained, including five knights.
"Where on earth... what in the world is happening...!"
"There were rumors that Duke Etakrihi personally went to the Bernini Mountains. If you wish to request support, going there would..."
"What's the point of us going there separately!"
Baron Noir barked at his attendant and immediately regretted it. He was one of the few vassals who had stayed by his side. The fact that he hadn't left him even now, when the territory had been completely burned, meant he deserved proper treatment.
Baron Noir took a deep breath and looked around.
There were only a few household troops, five knights, and barely fifty refugees they had managed to gather. This meant that nearly all of the thousand territory residents had gone into the maws of the demons.
Not all would have perished. It had only been a day, after all.
However, Baron Noir wished they were all already dead. Being alive under demon forces without protection would be more terrible than death.
"Lord."
He made the sign of the cross and continued.
"We must seek refuge in Moramdon, then request support from Duke Etakrihi and Upper Matilenne. If we just flee by ourselves now, who will protect these people?"
"Your Excellency, but retreating with the refugees would take time..."
"Throw away the territory residents to buy time and retreat? And then what? Could we still be nobles? Do you really think so?"
What future would there be for a rural lord who had lost his territory residents and fief, and had no position as an administrative noble? None. The noble council of Upper Matilenne would distribute the reconquered territory to nobles and then discard him.
The justification would be that he had abandoned his noble duties...
The Baron gritted his teeth and shook his head. Could he bear such a future? He had to live as a noble even if just for a day, and die like one. That was the way for his family to survive.
"If we move away from the main road, we can delay their pursuit as much as possible. They won't be familiar with the geography of this land."
"But they'll eventually catch up."
"Even in this state, we can buy about two hours. Enough time to enter Moramdon's territory. I entrust my family to you."
He wasn't wearing armor, nor was he properly armed. Just a longsword and a light tunic—a shabby appearance.
But he was a noble who had survived the last war. A knight who had survived by directly clashing with Tumur's frontlines. All the way from before the Hero Party appeared until now.
Wasn't it too short a time to say he had been steeped in peace? He still prided himself on being active.
He surveyed the few knights. They were all veterans who had rushed with him on the same battlefield. Even though they were now approaching twilight years, they were still men who remembered war.
"Come now, we should all live as nobles even if just for a day."
"If possible, I'd like to live as a noble for about another year, Your Excellency."
"Then you'll have to try harder."
When the Baron chuckled, the knights burst into laughter. Six old men in shabby attire, yet they raised their swords and spears sharply and headed to the rear of the refugee group.
"We'll buy time here. After this, leave the main road and go to Moramdon without stopping. Warn Baron Serte of Moramdon and request a muster order for nearby territories."
"But will those fellows listen to us? It would be fortunate if they don't just ignore us when we arrive!"
"Then this country will fall to just one group of demons."
The Baron laughed self-deprecatingly. Where had all the men gone who had directly fought against tens of thousands of demon legions and protected their homeland, only to now have the inland invaded by such small numbers?
Had the eastern front collapsed? Without even time to send messengers? Then is this country truly finished?
Perhaps the nearby grand lords could easily repel demons of the caliber currently invading his territory. But the failure of early suppression, the fact that demons had protruded this far, and that no one had realized this fact from the eastern front to this distant land...
What state would the territories beyond the Bernini Mountains be in? If these were merely the vanguard, if the eastern front's legion had collapsed, what would become of this country in this situation?
Despair pressed heavily on his head. The knights present who had served in the war would likely realize the same thing.
"It's too early to give up."
A strange voice came from beyond the bushes. The knights immediately pointed their swords and took stance.
Whoever it was, a stranger is always threatening. Especially in such a vulnerable situation.
Soon, a man appeared, parting the bushes. His appearance was as shabby as theirs, with clothes torn as if scraped by branches. And blood stains that seemed to have soaked his entire body before barely drying.
He looked no different from a bandit. Baron Noir narrowed his eyes and spoke.
"Who are you? We're not in a position to welcome guests right now."
"Ivan Petrovich Yeremov."
The man roughly shook off the bushes and stepped onto the road. He was carrying a heavy bundle made by roughly tying a cloak.
Trying to ignore the sticky blood seeping from it, the Baron growled.
"That's not a name from this land. What business does a Krasilov noble have here?"
"To kill demons."
Ivan's voice was flat. Rather than performing some special mission, it was as if he had come to finish what he had been doing all along.
"How did you know about this and appear alone at such a timely moment?"
"Do you have plenty of time?"
"What?"
"I asked if you have enough time to doubt, demand proof, and wait until you're convinced. You seemed in a hurry."
"That doesn't mean I should heedlessly listen to an uninvited guest."
"It's a message from Duke Etakrihi."
Ivan threw the bundle made from his roughly woven cloak in front of the Baron.
The knights who were about to react sharply to this rudeness stopped when they saw what was between the unfolded cloak rolling on the ground.
There were five severed Taurus heads. Massive bull heads with blood still wet, tongues hanging out.
The sharp fangs were those of carnivores. The knights with war experience didn't doubt their authenticity for a moment.
"Baron, your muster order won't convince the nearby lords. But if it's the word of Duke Etakrihi, that's different."
"Evidence... I have no evidence to convince those nobles. No proof that it's Duke Etakrihi's word."
"Stake your neck on it. Say you'll accept execution for forging the Duke's orders if it's false."
"What?!"
"Do you have more to lose?"
Ivan looked over the territory residents once and then back at the Baron.
"Whether the nearby lords gather to stop the demons, or they get pushed back and fall like this, don't you have nothing more to lose anyway?"
"Isn't the Duke's name too lofty to guarantee with just a few words from you?"
"I don't guarantee."
Ivan dropped his blood-stained sword with a thud. It was chipped and worn. This is what happens when you just pick up whatever's visible. Indeed, weapons should be carefully maintained.
"Instead, I prove. Don't stake your lives here to buy time. They're too valuable for that. Spread Duke Etakrihi's message to all nearby territories. The Duke is continuing the battle in the Bernini Mountains even at this moment."
"So the front has indeed been pushed back to Bernini...!"
"Now go. Gather an army under the Duke's name and return. Make sure to establish Moramdon as the frontline within five days, sufficiently."
Ivan took a sword from the foremost knight and turned around. The knight who had handed over his sword in confusion stared at his own hand with a blank expression.
It was taken before he could respond. He hadn't even perceived the approaching hand. Just from that, he could gauge the other's skill, and the knight looked at Ivan's back with somewhat intimidated eyes.
Ivan examined the sword once and said quietly.
"Well maintained."
"There's still much use for it in this era."
"Excellent."
At Ivan's words, the knight suddenly asked.
"Do you have a reason to risk your life? You're from Krasilov, aren't you?"
"Do demons distinguish humans by nationality?"
Ivan smiled slightly and secured the sword, tying it to his waist.
"Or did your country's hero distinguish humans by nationality when saving them?"
"You speak as if you're a hero yourself."
"I'm not worthy of that title."
But I can follow their example.
Ivan deliberately swallowed his last words. He recalled Gilles Berg's final words. Even in that era, as in the current one, there was never a lack of hero parties, he had said.
He still couldn't think that way. It wasn't self-consciousness, but simply dispassionate self-objectification. Self-consciousness was an emotion only petty men like Gilles Berg possessed.
He would save these people. For his purpose. Not because he valued the continuation of Tilles or the lives of its people.
Only for his purpose. To check the Grand Marquises and eliminate one of them. For purely political reasons.
Therefore, he couldn't pride himself on being a member of the Hero Party. The hero and his companions tried to save everyone they saw without any purpose, simply because they were there.
A normal person couldn't follow those madmen. Citizens have their own lives to live. Ivan was thus content to remain in the position of a scout.
Therefore, the objective modern man Ivan, instead of considering himself part of the Hero Party, was just going along with his friend's nonsense.
After all, wasn't he trading on his friend's name in this situation?
"I'm grateful for your dedication."
Glancing at the Baron who bowed his head with an impressed expression, Ivan was about to move on when he stopped.
"Ah. Just one more thing."
"Speak."
"Where does your loyalty lie?"
"Naturally toward my lord and this country. For the great thousand-year royal family of Tilles."
At the Baron's answer without a moment's hesitation, Ivan quietly nodded.
That's enough, he thought.
That was the end of the conversation. The Baron comforted the territory residents and left the road.
Left alone, Ivan moved on and thought.
'Since I didn't erase the traces, they'll arrive within half a day.'
He had prepared a path by mixing the traces of fleeing refugees with the bodies of a few scattered Taurus pursuit teams.
They would now charge with their eyes rolled back. Toward where he was.
Could he alone face about a thousand well-trained Taurus, with at least a centurion among them?
He could. He had done it before.
Not by confronting them head-on, but by conducting delaying actions and slowly whittling them down. He had faced twice that number before.
Then what about facing Taurus who gathered in formation and charged?
He could do it. He had seen it done.
Gilles Berg had done it even when not fully matured, just after receiving his knighthood.
If he was outmatched by that young boy, how could he even serve as a scout?
If he had seen something even once, he never found it difficult to imitate. That was what his training had been for.
Ivan checked his weapons and lit a campfire in a suitable spot. Using wet branches to ensure plenty of smoke rose, stirring it.
Grilling energy bars adequately over the fire and munching on them. With cold eyes, he stared at the horizon connecting to the forest.