Elizabeta returned to the barracks and sat down. In front of her eyes were mountains of paperwork still waiting to be processed. She slowly picked up a report, then promptly set it back down.
A long, deep breath followed. Her fists clenched tightly several times before going limp.
It was an anxious time. After sending the goblin "envoy," she had waited without checking the reports for some time.
When sufficient time had passed, she finally spoke.
"Summon Dmitri."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Outside the military camp, an officer disappeared with a rustle. Shortly after, the officer returned with a clanking noise.
"Your Majesty, Lieutenant Colonel Dmitri Cherkatov requests entry."
"Let him in."
As the tent door opened, Dmitri walked in with his prosthetic leg and knelt down.
"Your Majesty."
"Dmitri, what's the situation?"
At Elizabeta's question, Dmitri raised his head. After briefly gauging her mood, he spoke.
"The morale in the camp is remarkably high. Do not worry, Your Majesty. Your speech was excellent."
"Feel free to continue treating me like a fool if you wish."
"...I can report that none of the officers will desert."
"And the soldiers?"
"Desertion among common soldiers is not a variable but a constant, Your Majesty."
Dmitri bowed his head, unable to meet Elizabeta's gaze. The sound of her tapping on the table continued for a moment.
Soon, she sighed and said:
"So the numbers will increase. Is this the assessment of the counterintelligence command?"
"The command agents present here are too few to monitor the entire camp. This is merely my personal judgment."
"If it's coming from the most capable agent in this country, I should believe it."
At Elizabeta's words, Dmitri silently bowed his head.
As she said, Elizabeta was no fool. Rather, she was more intelligent than most other monarchs.
If she had no war experience, it might be different, but she was an officer with service record from the Great War era. She knew well enough that a withdrawal operation, no matter how nicely packaged, was nothing more than a retreat.
Fundamentally, it is more difficult for an army corps to withdraw than to advance.
When everyone moves forward, soldiers only see what's in front of them. They often forget their fear in the exhilaration of hearing the breathing of numerous comrades lined up beside them.
But when retreat begins, survival instinct awakens in the crumbling camp. Fear of death begins to paralyze reason.
The current withdrawal stretched from the Great Gate all the way to central Krasilov. Abandoning every city along their path.
And the 2nd Corps' designated role was to guard the northern Great Gate....
'Every military camp replenishes its soldiers from the surrounding area.'
Just as the 1st Corps operated with troops based in the colonial territories, the 2nd Corps was a force operated with the northern territories as its rear base.
In other words, the soldiers in this camp knew that their hometowns were burning, that they would be left in ruins without a single survivor.
In this situation, the only reason the corps hadn't disintegrated was thanks to Elizabeta's leadership.
Under her command, they had deliberately avoided encounters with the enemy as much as possible. They did their best to make it feel like a long training exercise against non-existent enemies.
Underground tunnels have no sun or moon. Without sky, there is only one's sense of time to distinguish days. With no visible enemy form, they couldn't even feel the direct threat to their lives.
In that distorted perception, the soldiers forgot their fear. Vaguely, they could even ignore the fact that their hometowns were being swept away.
Not anymore.
'Was this intentional?'
Elizabeta's hair fell forward as she bowed her head. Beneath it, her eyes flashed as she sank into thought.
'Is he demonstrating that real demons have penetrated to the heart of Krasilov? Suggesting they can roam this land freely even unarmed?'
The officers won't desert. They know there's no future if they lose this war, and they're elite enough not to question Elizabeta's leadership.
But expecting every single soldier to possess the same level of determination would be foolish.
Their hometowns have been devastated, and even cities that haven't yet fallen will soon disappear. Literally, physically "disappear."
Every human in this world knows this fact easily. The Great War was just four years ago, and even then, the demons left no prisoners. No survivors remain in their occupied territories.
So "some" of the soldiers will startle awake as if from a dream. When the morale boosted by Elizabeta's speech settles down, and night falls.
-The front line has been pushed back so far that an unarmed goblin could reach this area?
-If I escape alone, couldn't I evacuate my family?
They're just individual soldiers. If one disappears, there's no way to track them, no time to do so, and the loss of one barely affects the corps' combat effectiveness.
But that "one" soldier is the only force in the world for his family. It might be the last chance to save them....
And now their queen is ordering all of them, the entire corps:
-Abandon your families. Leave them as prey for the demons.
No matter how loyal and steadfast a Krasilov man might be, it's impossible not to consider desertion in this situation. There will be personnel gaps far exceeding the usual desertion rate.
In a situation where they must relocate the camp every 15 hours, constantly moving, redrawing routes, and executing a complex withdrawal operation that even the best-trained officers have never experienced before, who would have the mental capacity to prevent desertion?
Elizabeta sighed. From where she sat, she was discerning the Seven Dragon Lord's intentions from just a single goblin's words.
Dmitri spoke with a voice full of reverence for his monarch's keen insight.
"If you command, I will deploy all command agents to the perimeter."
"You mean to abandon our intelligence gathering capacity on the surface."
"We cannot perform both tasks."
Currently, the counterintelligence command had enhanced its internal intelligence capabilities to match the retreating 2nd Corps.
Across the vast region stretching from northern to central Krasilov, they were monitoring in real-time the reactions and survival of each territory, as well as the movement patterns and strategic targets of enemy forces.
Using them solely to control deserters would be a foolish decision. Elizabeta let out a stifled laugh at this forced choice between two options.
"How long until the 2nd Corps artillery division is ready at Karbinsk Great Plain?"
"The estimated preparation time is three days, Your Majesty."
"So we need to minimize desertion losses while buying three more days."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
Elizabeta tapped the table and then stood up.
"Gather all forces except the artillery division. Prepare for engagement."
"...What? Your Majesty? But—!"
"If non-combat losses increase further, we cannot maintain the corps. Do you think the artillery division won't desert? Right now, before the corps disintegrates, is when we have our strongest force."
"But Your Majesty!! In this terrain—"
"The artillery division will gather at Karbinsk as planned and prepare for fire projection. We must fight here for those three days."
"Your Majesty.... Please reconsider. It's not about our chances of victory; I cannot even guarantee your safety."
It was unprecedented for Dmitri to oppose her words like this. Such a thing had never happened even when she commanded the Annihilation Squad.
A soldier who had never rebelled even when he had to carry out suicide missions under orders from above was now refusing the queen's command.
This was concern not for his own safety, but for the monarch's well-being. Elizabeta smiled at this loyal subject's words and replied:
"This is the arrogance of a monarch."
Sacrifice your lives. In return, I will offer my own. Commanding you to stand and die in that place—this is the arrogance of a monarch.
This is known as the last testament left by Ivan the Great. Something every Krasilov soldier knows.
Dmitri bowed his head without answering her words.
"Lord, protect the queen."
"No. Lord, protect this country."
The two made the sign of the cross and turned to leave the tent.
[So. The human queen said that.]
"Yes, yes, my lord!"
[Well done.]
With a hissing sound, the goblins hastily departed. Soon, the corps commanders gathered and bowed deeply to their lord, saying:
[Now the human queen can no longer flee.]
The humans are most threatening when their artillery is concentrated on a single point across a large plain. For this purpose, they were now fleeing, throwing their cities as bait.
Cleverly, they were escaping through underground passages, slipping through maze-like tunnels like rats. It was a distant hope to completely annihilate them using the slow-moving demons in this land.
So to halt their retreat and force an engagement, simply devouring the northern cities was not enough. This is what humans call... yes, a public opinion war?
Unlike his children, humans do not completely believe in their leaders. They do not worship them. Their loyalty always flickers and burns like a candle in the wind, a consumable resource.
[Demon King, watch. The strategy you so carefully prepared has no value before true power.]
Attack Droan, attack Krasilov, create a two-front war to confuse them?
The very fact that such a strategy was ordered against the Seven Dragon Lords proves the Demon King is merely human.
If one wished to invade humans, strategies would be meaningless. One step would be conquest, and that would be the end of them.
Now he would ignore the Demon King's orders. Complex tactical games were meaningless. If he personally commanded the corps, all his forces, wherever they had scattered, would gather under a single will.
[Foolish human. Blind, dull queen.]
His eyes fell upon the human on the dais. The queen with an eye patch looked down at him with a faint smile.
[It is not our name that is fearsome. Fear itself is our essence.]
"Try it."
The blind queen nodded with a smile.
"I will watch with pleasure."
[You must keep your promise.]
"If you truly can bring down Krasilov, then yes. I will give you Tanasimor's as well."
A grinding sound came from Nekinon's mouth as his teeth gnashed.
It was not something a mortal could so easily speak of. He stared at the Demon King for a long time, then turned away with a hissing sound.
For the simplest solution available to a god stripped of divinity. For destruction and slaughter.
"However, Nekinon. From the moment you use fear, your essence is no longer fear itself. You've become ridiculous."
In the distance, the Great Gate came into view. Below it, a small number of demons were still gathered, bustling about in their encampment.
Torches were lit all over the Great Gate. Non-human banners and poles were densely planted along the high walls of the Great Gate.
Banners made of human skin and flagpoles crafted from bones fluttered in the breeze.
-Click.
Behind Ivan, the halted troops simultaneously raised their weapons. The Grand Duke walking ahead turned around. Eyes hungry to tear apart and devour what lay before them all turned toward the Grand Duke.
Amid the storm of chilling killing intent, the Grand Duke surveyed his remnant troops once and turned his head again.
There was no great resolve or magnificent departure speech.
The Grand Duke drew the sword tied at his waist. It was an old longsword bestowed upon the Volnovin ducal family. The black blade that had drunk the blood and oil of countless humans and demons rose toward the sky.
He gave no order to advance. Pressing down his visor with his free hand, he shouted briefly:
"Krasilov 1st Corps—!!"
-Only—! Death—!!!
From the time when it was once a minor northern country.
Without the corps formation, simply called the "Royal Army."
Until again, when it destroyed two countries and seized the entire northern territory.
And once more. Twenty years into the Great War. When numerous countries perished and the front line was pushed to just beyond the border, marking them as the next sacrifice.
This country's first and strongest corps. Its final remnant troops now charged forward with weapons in hand.
No horses, no armor. Without supplies, firearms were the first to break and be discarded. Without even a blacksmith, most of their weapons had broken and disappeared, and what they carried now were merely axes and spears.
These were farming tools and hunting implements used by the colonists of the northern demon territory.
The final legacy of those countless citizens who perished in the first offensive was now in their hands. Not to save country and people, but solely for revenge.
Only death. Only death would be their final duty.
And the name of that duty would be revenge.
Ivan caught his breath among the soldiers rushing past him and looked back at his companions.
They too were gripping their weapons tightly, staring fiercely ahead. Seeing this, Ivan nodded and shouted again:
"Only death!!"
That day, the 1st Corps passed through the Great Gate.