# 47. A Prayer Toward Sunrise
The speedboat glided across the open sea. A chilling cold that belied summer crept under Elizabeth's loosened coat.
Ivan stared at the horizon of the deep night sea, lost in thought.
'If we assume the demon army struck Krasilov's north with the same pressure as Droan...'
Starting with the Pritzenkaya raid, he had already predicted the loss of Krasilov's 1st Corps at that point. The minimum scenario would be the collapse of a section of the front line, and the worst case would be the loss of the entire 1st Corps.
When communication is cut off, the corps might as well be annihilated. All troops whose positions cannot be determined are considered combat losses.
So let's assume the 1st Corps has been destroyed. Somewhere deep in demon territory beyond the northern front...
'The Northern Gate wouldn't have held.'
Even if the 2nd Corps had traveled at maximum speed, they wouldn't have had enough time to complete battle preparations. The Great Gate built along the ravine of the northern front must be assumed destroyed at this point.
The demons couldn't have physically crossed the Dwarves' Andgrund or the Sky Mountains. The demons' invasion route would naturally be limited to below the Great Gate.
And below that, at this time of year, the rasputitsa would be in full effect...
'Elizabeth would have chosen delaying tactics.'
Based on the lessons from the Great War, delaying tactics would be the best option. They would need to retreat south at least to the great plains near Karpinsk or Zversk.
The main force of the 2nd Corps is the artillery division. They need plains wide enough to withstand even the rasputitsa to deploy properly.
But they cannot continue a retreat on the surface. The artillery-focused 2nd Corps withdraws too slowly compared to the demon army.
If they coordinated with the dwarves to use underground tunnels, they wouldn't be late in retreating, but in that case, there would be no means to delay the demon army on the surface. Elizabeth isn't foolish enough to attempt guerrilla tactics with heavy artillery units.
So, the best strategy Elizabeth would have chosen is only one.
'She would have sacrificed the entire northern territory.'
She would abandon all territories without informing them of the demon invasion. To prevent citizens, soldiers, or lords from fleeing in terror.
The lords who suddenly face the demon army would attempt maximum defense and request support from Pritzenkaya.
If Pritzenkaya sends a reply saying "reinforcements are on the way," the lords would continue fighting without giving up, buying time against the enemies.
As a result, she could gain a long time until all the northern territories fall. With that time, Elizabeth could prepare for a counterattack. At the cost of sacrificing one-third of Krasilov.
"Elizabeth."
Ivan whispered, looking at the night sky. His low voice cracked between the winds and faded away.
"Hold on just a little longer."
He couldn't say anything else.
Because this was the final hurdle. This campaign would require maximum troop mobilization from the demons' perspective as well. The Seven Dragon Generals must have been involved in this operation, and after defeating the Dragon Generals deployed on both fronts, the demon army would have no rallying point left.
The demons would return to tribal society and waste thousands of years in internecine strife again. If they could endure this time, the United Kingdoms could spend centuries without the threat of demons.
The Seven Dragon Generals must know this fact too. The demons must be staking everything on this operation.
To force such losses on the Dragon Generals, even Maximillian couldn't remain in the rear. So, truly.
This is the final hurdle. The last front line. Beyond that horizon, across the demon realm, over the northern front far to the south, Maximillian is there.
Whatever he wanted, whatever he attempted, whatever purpose he moved for. The conclusion is one.
The moment they face each other, only one person will be able to see the end of this long conflict.
He quietly closed his eyes, recalling the face of that cheerful man who had always walked ahead.
The speedboat crossed the night sea.
The Great Gate that once blocked the entire deep valley of the northern front had become ruins covered with collapsed pillars and debris.
Goblins swarmed, rummaging through the piles of stones under the pillars, while tauruses dragged corpses toward the fire. The smell of burning meat wafted throughout the valley.
Orcs ran around shouting, and above them, giants from the far north moved with heavy steps.
Beyond the collapsed gate of the valley, traces many times larger remained. Numerous troops had moved south, and even now, in various regions of the demon realm, an equal number of troops were preparing to move south.
And among them, a young man wearing an eye patch was walking.
"My Lord."
"My Lord..."
With each of his steps, the demons stopped moving, prostrated themselves quietly, and retreated. Even as the powerful divine aura swirled and choked the demons, they merely bowed down, not daring to even breathe carelessly.
"Though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no harm, for You comfort me..."
An orc made the sign of the cross and bowed deeply. Before him, the young man continued walking without answering.
Stopping in front of the long plain that curved below after passing through the valley, the young man slowly lowered his eye patch.
His cloudy gray eyes turned toward the sky. Toward the east where the morning sun was rising.
For a long time, as if something existed beyond the palely shining sky.
"Enjoy this moment now."
The young man's lips parted, and a low voice flowed out.
"This will be the last performance of this world that you will see. When the curtain falls, the audience must withdraw."
The young man raised his eye patch to cover his eyes and continued walking. With each of his steps, the earth burned black as if rejecting him, screaming in agony.