"So, you lost them?"
The soft voice echoed. It wasn't a question expecting an answer. He already knew Nekinnon wouldn't respond.
Molten gold rippled in silence. In the luxurious grand bath that glittered with torchlight even in darkness, a small figure stood with its back turned, silent.
Not entirely silent. Grind, grind. The sound of teeth grinding leaked out bit by bit. The goblins attending to him collapsed, foaming at the mouth from the terrible killing intent.
The blind king stood before him, smiling.
"Are you badly hurt?"
[Shut up.]
"I see, your feelings are hurt as well."
As the king laughed lightly, the grinding sound stopped. After a terrible silence, the killing intent intensified with a whoosh. Long cracks formed in the marble inscribed with magical characters, and the humans prepared as sacrifices collapsed, spewing blood.
The king smiled quietly and lightly stirred the blackened air.
[Do you wish to die, human?]
"Can you kill me?"
[Your arrogance is excessive. Even if everyone calls you the Demon King, do you truly believe you can become the king of demon-kind? A mere ephemeral creature, how dare you, HOW DARE YOU—!!]
"King of demon-kind? How amusing. Since when have you all had such strong solidarity?"
[What...?]
"Goblins with goblins, taurus with taurus, orcs with orcs. Yes. Demons never had a king originally. The term 'Seven Dragon Generals' is equally ridiculous. By voluntarily placing numbers before the names of your racial deities, you've lost your independence. You were originally said to be complete gods on your own, but now you've degraded yourselves to mere members of a collective."
-CRASH—!!
Before the king finished speaking, the gold surged upward. In an instant, it enveloped the small silhouette, restoring the form of a massive serpent. The molten gold rose in reverse to form scales, and the dripping forms solidified to create sharp fangs inside the maw.
Beneath it, empty eye sockets formed from coagulated blood glared at the king, hissing.
[Choose your next words carefully, human.]
"A god in a world abandoned by gods. Self-praise from those who can no longer be great alone. How impressive."
[Do you think I cannot kill you?]
"Bluster is the way of the weak, Nekinnon. The strong don't beg for respect. Come down. I, too, don't speak twice."
-Crack.
The golden flowing serpent ground its teeth. Amid the roaring sound of ironworks being ground away, Nekinnon's head slowly lowered to the king's level, meeting his gaze.
[Say what you want to say, and if you have nothing to convey, get out.]
"Rest for three days."
[...What?]
"I saw you preparing to rotate. I won't allow it right now. Wait three days."
An abrupt statement. Nekinnon calmly pondered his order. The man before him had always guaranteed autonomy in individual choices, even when devising grand strategies.
To be precise... it would be fair to say he had neglected them. He would smile and nod regardless of what decisions Nekinnon and Tanashimor made.
And now he was giving tactical orders?
Before anger, contempt, inferiority, or any other emotion, questions arose.
[Why? Wouldn't it be better to strike before their preparations are complete?]
"Did you calculate that there would be no chance of victory if human preparations were complete? That's quite a cautious calculation for one bearing the name of a god."
[If you wish to continue this conversation, stop mocking me. My patience is limited.]
"Humans no longer have heroes, and those who claim to be heroes haven't fully matured yet. In such circumstances, with this size of army and the Seven Dragon Generals taking the field directly, would numbers be an issue? Do you truly think so?"
[That's not a reason. What meaning is there in giving them ample time to prepare for rotation?]
"The moon."
The blind king stretched his hand toward the night sky. A thin crescent moon hung in the cloudy sky. It was a waning moon.
"In three days, there will be no moon."
[You mean to launch a surprise attack under cover of darkness? How amusing. The human night is incomparably brighter than the demon realm, and this is their territory. No matter how thick the darkness, could it provide a greater tactical advantage than giving them time to prepare?]
"Well, let me ask you once more."
The king tilted his head askew and smiled.
"Are you afraid? Are you so afraid of fighting after humans have completed their preparations?"
[I merely find the insignificant casualties irritating!! If you're so confident, fine. I'll use all the forces in this theater as I see fit. Regardless of how great the losses! And you should know that all demon casualties will be the result of your decision. I will surely collect that debt.]
"Do as you wish."
The king turned away with a faint smile and walked out. Tap, tap. Between his steps, using his chain-wrapped sword as a cane, long scorched marks stretched across the ground.
After walking for a while, alone, the king looked up at the sky through his blindfold and whispered:
"When the moon is hidden, the stars shine brighter."
How brilliant would the moonless night sky be on the great plains, far from the light pollution of cities?
Perhaps all the stars in the universe would twinkle beneath the distant Milky Way above.
The new moon was moving toward the western edge.
The moon carries the sun's holiness. Especially in this world. As a satellite reflecting sunlight from the opposite side of the planet to illuminate the earth, the moon is the Lord's eye watching over the world even in the dead of night. So they believe.
So watch me, Lord.
I will fulfill your will. Even if not in the form you desired.
By proving that this world needs no gods. Without fail.
As an epilogue for a hero, nothing could be more appropriate. So he thought self-mockingly.
The royal regent of Tilles, Commander-in-Chief of the Military, Grand Master of the Eastern Knights, and Royal Dueling Proxy. In short, the "Guardian Earl." The firstborn son of Gil Ber de Etakrih and heir to the Grand Duchy of Etakrih, the core of the next generation of power.
Opposite him,
The firstborn son of House Eastvelpen of the Kalion Privy Council, son-in-law of the Rustfitz family who heads the Privy Council, Acting Commander of the Kalion Southern Fleet, Acting Foreign Affairs Coordinator of the Family Alliance, and the only disciple of Edelplat Koenwulf, the Lord of the Sword Edge. Also a core of the next generation of power.
And beside him,
Dwarf Andgrund, dictator of all underground cities of the Sky Mountains, King of Blacksmiths, Acting General Secretary of All Dwarf People, with the official title of Technical Regent, Combat Pilgrim, and Construction Chief. The king's legitimate daughter.
Ramiro I of Leonor, Domenico of Albinia, Ermenico of Elsros, Felipe II of Lorencia, and Carlos III, the Sun King of Belacria. The war lords of the six southern nations were seated together.
And standing with hands clasped, representing the collective will of them all, was Patricia, the hero of the last great war and now the sole center of the collapsed church, classified as a member of the New Faith. The Saintess.
The long military tent was lined with numerous military banners symbolizing each of them. Though the banners fluttered in the breeze, the inside of the tent was sunk in silence.
-Tap, tap.
The kings' eyes tensed. From beyond the tent came the sound of steady footsteps on solid ground.
-Tap, tap.
All those present were powerful rulers who took their supreme authority for granted in their own countries. Above them was only the Lord, and they did not wish to place anyone else above themselves.
Yet now these sovereigns were tense at the approach of one person.
They looked into each other's eyes and realized they all felt the same. It was laughable. They had clearly not come to "help" this country. As leaders of supporting forces, especially those who had stepped forward without asking for compensation, they had every right to be more dignified.
But before a monarch who had burned half her territory, sacrificed half her troops, and still risen again to continue the war using herself as bait, they couldn't help but feel tense as equals.
This woman of iron blood who considered even her own life as merely an element of military strategy, who ordered her close aides and loyal subjects to march toward certain death and considered it natural. Her goal was not her own power, but only one thing: the survival of her country.
Even steel would be weaker than her. Though many of the monarchs present were not much younger than this woman, none were more skilled in warfare.
All rulers are inherently selfish. Selfishness is a component in the blood of those in power. Altruistic people cannot even qualify to hold power. Those without ambition cannot grasp or maintain power.
Thus, the kings could not understand the ruler of Krasilov. They could easily understand the cruelty and ambition that purged her siblings and parents and beheaded the powerful, but this bland warmonger who continued the war by recklessly betting her life afterward was difficult to comprehend.
Humans fear what they do not understand. The kings here were no exception.
And also, that which is feared and dreaded is called reverence. Reverence is the feast of gods. At this moment, the ruler of Krasilov was no different from a god to the assembled monarchs.
-Tap.
The footsteps stopped. Someone swallowed dryly.
The granddaughter of the conquering monarch, the worst intelligence chief of the Great War, the woman who slaughtered all her blood relatives with her own hands, appeared.
The tent opened, and Elizabeta walked in indifferently, naturally taking her place on the highest platform in the military camp, and bowed her head slightly.
"For the past few days, my condition has been too poor to appear before the assembled monarchs. I thank you for sparing your valuable time."
As if it were natural for them to wait.
With a loftiness that expressed gratitude to the supporting forces who had arrived with all their nations' resources, yet without bowing submissively.
"So, would you grant me a little more time? Before I properly express my gratitude to you, hold a banquet for today's international friendship, or devise military strategies against the approaching enemy. Just a moment."
The kings' gazes fell upon Elizabeta.
"Many righteous people have died before us. Who among us can dare say otherwise? Kings, nobles, knights and soldiers, even down to the serfs. Countless people have died and disappeared, and most of them were discarded in the fields like garbage without even gravestones. It has been barely ten years."
A fire kindled in Elizabeta's eyes. Anger smoldered, which even deep fatigue could not cover.
The king who had buried her people and cities with her own hands growled.
"When the Demon King died, we gladly fired celebratory cannons and said that permanent peace had arrived. That the demon-kind were crushed, and heroes had finally brought victory to humanity. That everyone should rest assured, that every night was no longer a tragedy, and every day no longer a new despair. Isn't that so? Was it truly so?"
Elizabeta slowly leaned forward. Meeting the eyes of each monarch in the camp one by one, she continued with her hands clasped.
"No. The enemies have come once more, and now we must stop them with less than half the numbers of the last war. While we let down our guard and felt secure, they became more cunning, more skilled, and more devious. All nations have been invaded, and haven't their forces now crossed the final border of the last war to reach this place?"
Elizabeta's hands clenched tightly.
"Many have died. Our territories have been trampled, and our people face a more gloomy tomorrow than during the last war. But, brothers of the alliance. Yet, we have come to this place now."
As if to say this is how the king of kings expresses gratitude.
"We have all come here even after facing our own destruction. We have come here not regarding another country's tragedy as a distant land's fable. From the clutches of enemies attacking from all directions to dismantle us all, we have gathered once more to come here."
So our names are not Krasilov, Kalion, Tilles, Droan, Leonor, Equitania, Albinia, Elsros, Belacria.
But the United Kingdoms.
The united alliance of humanity.
"Today, we await tomorrow's war. We stand before the approaching demon army. But tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. We shall have no more wars. So I dare to tell you proudly. That there will be no more wars on this land. That this is the last war of our era, and finally, the first and eternal peace of our time awaits us."
For permanent peace.
"Brothers of the alliance. We shall stand before death and resist. As our ancestors, and the righteous who departed before us, did. I sincerely thank you for standing with us."
"Long live the alliance."
As Oskar raised a military salute and spoke, all the monarchs echoed in low voices.
"Long live the alliance."
No one was caught up in excitement. They whispered softly, simply stating facts. Eternal peace, permanent end to war, and.
The death of demon-kind. The victory of humanity, for the friendship of the alliance. May the United Kingdoms live forever.
Elizabeta nodded quietly and waved her hand. Soon, a massive tactical map was spread out at one side of the tent.
"Now, let us prepare for our final war."