"Let's go back in time a few days."
The border guard at Leonor's northern frontier was heading toward the trade railway line to make what was already his fourth recommendation this week—one that bordered on pleading.
It was a long ride on horseback through the deep forest where no station existed. Still, with royal orders in place, he couldn't just handle this carelessly.
He rode his horse while gazing at the gleaming, polished rails.
"Hello there—!!"
At the guard's shout, workers hammering the tracks in the distance stood up. One person from the group walked over with heavy steps.
"So, is the work almost finished?"
"Oh my, we still have quite a way to go."
The worker, who looked like he'd never held a hammer in his life, replied with a sly smile.
To the guard, this man seemed more suited to weapons than tools. Even with his smooth face and gentle smile, that impression remained.
He was muscular and large, but not with the greasy bulk common among laborers—rather, he had a genuinely solid build.
Though the corners of his eyes were smiling, his gaze itself held no trace of a smile. They were the eyes of a professional killer who could dismember someone as easily as breathing.
Though they had been meeting for two months now, the guard still felt himself shrinking back each time—a survival instinct. He hesitated before speaking.
"Well, it's been several months already. His Majesty is asking why the work is progressing so slowly..."
"Come now, did we break it?"
"No, but still. There's such a thing as common sense. A slightly damaged rail and one overturned train car—and we've been stuck at the border for months because of it."
This was the trade route crossing the border between Krasilov and Leonor. During the train derailment accident two months ago, the Krasilov authorities had issued a stern warning about management responsibility.
And then, as if doing a favor, they offered to make repairs free of charge. Honestly, knowing the Krasilov people, that seemed highly unlikely... but somehow the tracks were quickly repaired.
From what he'd heard, it wasn't even a major accident. And when he first started his inspection duties, the tracks were already in perfect condition. The overturned train had vanished without a trace.
Yet these foreigners kept tearing up perfectly good tracks, laying them again, and then tearing them up once more. He couldn't understand what they wanted.
They must be protesting, trying to gain something from this opportunity. Those Krasilov people, always up to something.
The guard retreated, grumbling without accomplishing anything.
-Rumble rumble....
Well, seeing how the ground shook so powerfully and hearing such loud noises... Yes, they must be doing some construction work.
When the rumbling that had been echoing throughout Leonor finally subsided.
The large man watching the workers repairing the tracks grinned.
"Let's head back now, boys."
"Yes, Lord Pavel."
The massive tunneling machine that had departed from Pritzenkaya passed through Leonor, crossed the border into Belacria, and finally arrived at the Ovidis Plains.
Two months after departure. In the underground of Ovidis.
Elizabeta raised her arm through the dust and rumbling, gazing at the sunlight filtering through.
"My most excellent men."
The most powerful legion this country boasted responded from beyond the long, darkness-shrouded passage. With all their might at her slightest gesture.
Wind gusted through the passage leading to the surface, blowing her hair in long strands. A military officer approached her raised hand and presented her with a military flag.
The lily and the bear.
The Krasilov insignia, embroidered with silver thread, flashed brilliantly white as it caught the direct sunlight. Though sufficiently heavy, Elizabeta's slender arm held it without the slightest tremor, waving it straight ahead.
Toward the monster's fortress in the distance, distorting colors under the sunlight.
"I wish for nothing but ruins and wasteland to remain in my path."
The legion advanced following her gesture. The massive steel legion moved past her, shifting their feet.
To willingly fulfill the wishes of the most powerful monarch on this land.
They do not shout battle cries. There is no pre-battle excitement, no war trumpets or drums to respond.
Only the operational sound of heavy steel mechanical devices with interlocking cranks, and countless military boots moving in unison.
If she wishes it, it shall be done. Because it was so obvious, they found no reason to answer.
If she commands it, so it shall be. Even if ordered to march to certain death, they wouldn't even utter the slightest groan of resolve.
No one considers the rising sun and setting moon remarkable enough to mention. No one gives special names or reasons to what is natural law.
Therefore, no one in the legion offered to fulfill Elizabeta's wish. It would naturally be done.
-Boom, boom, boom....
Krasilov's Harvester Battery extended endlessly toward the ground. The mightiest firepower this land had ever seen, both before and after the Great War.
Elizabeta slowly rode her horse alongside the flow of steel that advanced past her on both sides.
"The Krasilov have arrived—!!"
"Dwarves?! Have the demon folk come to aid us?"
"No! They're with the Krasilov military flag! Have they subjugated them...?"
The Belacria military camp had been in chaos since the earthquake stopped. With almost all war horses having fled, it was difficult to control the forces surrounding Ovidis.
Ivan headed straight for the command post.
"W-what is happening here?!"
"Bring me a war horse."
"A war horse...?"
"If I don't go, you'll all be caught up in this."
Ivan spoke while fixing his gaze beyond the collapsed barracks.
Through the vast landscape where dust still rose like fog, he could see familiar silhouettes.
It was the flag of the 2nd Legion. The Harvester Battery was being deployed. The legion from the days before the Great War, when all civilized monarchs of the world feared the name of the former king and Krasilov.
Ivan the Conqueror's reapers. The 2nd Legion of Krasilov was nicknamed the Harvesters. The crops they harvested were land and lives.
What kind of power would they display, these artillery units who had fully absorbed and developed dwarven war engineering?
The battle formation Ivan saw was too famous to mistake.
"There's no time. The 2nd Legion is attempting a Ground Leveling."
"Ground Leveling...?! Th-this is Belacria's territory! H-how dare they. This, this—"
"Are you going to protest after you're dead? I've never seen anyone succeed among those who tried that."
The 2nd Legion, the Harvester Battery, was completing preparations for Ground Leveling.
It was a tactic that vaporized an entire vast area including fortresses, territories, and extensive farmland. To incinerate troublesome enemies from a distance.
This was a warfare technique developed by Krasilov, which lacked superhumans. Since superhumans could read artillery directions and escape, to eradicate them...
They would overwhelm an entire area too large for superhumans to escape from, with artillery fire impossible to avoid.
Each artillery strike could be understood as a point. Conventional barrage fire is the process of connecting points to create lines. The kind that destroys battle formations and gates.
But Krasilov's Ground Leveling is different. Through precisely calculated firing angles and precise signals for simultaneous fire. Connecting points to form lines, and lines to form planes.
It "levels" an entire "domain." Leaving nothing but wasteland under the sky of the target area—no people, no buildings, no mountains or rivers.
"Hurry, go see for yourself!!"
It didn't take long for the shocked officer to bring two war horses.
Ivan and Isabelle leaped onto the horses and galloped straight toward the military camp where the Krasilov royal insignia fluttered.
Upon arriving at the Krasilov military camp, Ivan followed the wide open path up the hill. Since many recognized his face, he was able to approach Elizabeta without any hindrance.
She was seated on a high platform. On a throne covered with black bear fur, she crossed her long legs elegantly as she looked down at him.
Beside her stood dwarves in steel armor and men in light attire.
Surprisingly, Dmitri was also standing without his wheelchair.
A prosthetic leg? It looks completely natural. Ivan thought as he knelt on one knee below the throne.
"Vanka."
A cold voice rang out above his head. As Ivan raised his head, the queen, with the sun at her back, spoke coldly.
"Answer."
"Ivan Petrovich Yeremov presents himself to the eternal sun of Krasilov."
"Krasilov."
"...Pardon?"
In response to Ivan's question, a curt voice replied.
"Ivan Petrovich Krasilov."
"Yes...?"
"Ivan Petrovich, 'Krasilov'."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Speak. Quickly."
Ivan repeated her words in a low voice. Only then, with a somewhat relaxed tone, did Elizabeta gesture lightly.
"Come closer."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Ivan stood up and climbed onto the platform. Approaching to within two steps of Elizabeta, he knelt again.
After examining his appearance for a while and exhaling with a "hmph," Elizabeta suddenly noticed something on the ground and paused.
Beads of sweat were dripping from his cheek.