The dawn was breaking. The remaining soldiers were dragging their exhausted bodies to recover the remains of their fallen comrades or burning the demon corpses amid the bloodshed.
The rulers of the Six Southern Nations were leading their forces to retreat. In this unexpected victory that had occurred without anyone's help, they were all feeling anxious.
All the glory would go to Krasilov. After all, hadn't she single-handedly resolved a battle situation that had been losing despite mobilizing all the united forces?
And what was even more terrifying was that man.
That man who had ended the civil war in Tilles, crossed over to Kalion to divide those arrogant and powerful elves, ended the war in the Six Southern Nations, burned down the Papal State, and single-handedly slaughtered the Seven Dragon Generals.
Now, he had essentially finished this war alone as well... essentially, he was the hero of this generation.
Three of the Seven Dragon Generals were officially known to have died by his hand. Considering that even the Hero Party from the Great War era had barely managed to catch two with all their heroes combined, his achievements were equal to, if not greater than, those heroes.
Perhaps even after many years, his achievements would remain as epics. Everyone could see that. And everyone also knew...
That this man was a soldier of Krasilov and a favorite courtier who received the queen's affection.
The rumor that he came from the Annihilation Squad proved that he had been trained as an assassin. If he was an assassin who could even kill the Seven Dragon Generals, who indeed could he not kill?
The alliance would once again kneel under Krasilov's grasp. This was already almost a foregone conclusion.
Therefore, even in this situation...
Even in this situation where humanity's future had been secured through a miraculous victory, the atmosphere in the military camp where all the kings of the world had gathered was surprisingly cold.
"When the hell are these guys coming?"
Because the master of this military camp had been absent for half a day.
Unable to do anything, all the kings of the world were biting their lips and waiting quietly.
It took half a day for Elizabeta, who had fainted from accumulated fatigue and injuries (for no other reason), to wake up.
She had to wake up about three more times in between, clutch her chest at the sight of Ivan's face, and fall back into sleep repeatedly.
Certainly, pregnant women in early pregnancy tend to experience severe mood swings due to rapid hormonal changes. Ivan, being a rational 21st-century transmigrator, did not try to understand Elizabeta's eccentricities.
Having barely regained consciousness, Elizabeta looked at Ivan with a face that seemed to have lost half its weight and opened her mouth.
"The porridge is hot. Cool it down."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
While blowing on the porridge that had been carefully prepared for the queen to cool it down, Ivan carefully fed one spoonful at a time to Elizabeta, who had now completely regained her stability.
The meal was terribly quiet. Elizabeta seemed to have something to say, opening her mouth, then hesitating, then pounding her chest again, and then swallowing the water that her lady-in-waiting had hurriedly brought before closing her mouth.
And Ivan, rationally, tends not to engage in unnecessary conversation.
"I really feel like I'm going to choke."
"I'll pat your back, Your Majesty."
"I want to pat you!!"
Elizabeta struck Ivan's chest hard and sighed. Soon, she spoke with a calm expression.
"Well, what are they all doing? Now that the battle is over, the retreating forces must have returned."
"They've been waiting for Your Majesty for six hours. I'm told they're all still gathered at the command post."
"You should have said that first!! This is no time to be like this. Help me up. I'm getting up."
"Please don't worry and rest. I will handle it."
"...You will... 'handle' it...? That won't do. You cannot kill the monarchs of allied nations."
"...?"
Ivan gently laid down Elizabeta, who seemed to be rambling as if she hadn't fully awakened yet. As his hand touched her thin neck, Elizabeta shrank her neck as if ticklish and laughed softly.
"Don't be too gentle or too harsh. They fear you."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then... hmm... did you say they've been waiting for six hours? Then it wouldn't be a problem if they waited a couple more hours, would it?"
"That is so, Your Majesty."
Seemingly satisfied with Ivan's answer, Elizabeta smiled and gently grasped his sleeve.
"Then stay by the side of this drowsy monarch for a moment. Ah, but don't open your mouth. I still feel like my stomach is turning over."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Touch my stomach. It's burning."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Ivan placed his hand on Elizabeta's thin waist. She trembled slightly and looked up at Ivan silently for a moment.
Not long after, Elizabeta opened her mouth.
"You..."
She seemed afraid to continue, swallowing her words, and then continued with a sigh.
"How do you think of yourself?"
"You are my lord."
"Is that all? Am I to you just in a lord-vassal relationship?"
Ivan looked down at Elizabeta.
This great queen always appeared grand despite her small frame. In every moment she walked, stood, or sat, there was an unapproachable aura around her.
Even when giving a single command, it was like a roar, and with each breath, there was a deep resonance. Like someone born to rule.
Under her gaze, all her subjects had to tremble in fear. She herself was a powerful superhuman, and her authority had never been broken since her succession to the throne.
But at this moment, Elizabeta was trembling like an ordinary woman. Her hunched shoulders suddenly felt real. She was a small woman, not even half his size or build.
Like a wounded bird, Elizabeta was both afraid of and craving Ivan's answer.
Ivan still looked down at her with a stern face.
"I may never overcome the shadow of Major Cherenevika. I will rightfully endure it, and I have the confidence to do so. But... one thing... even so..."
"...Your Majesty."
"Even so, could you... see me... not as a queen but as 'me'...?"
Elizabeta's shoulders began to tremble slightly. She covered her face with her hair and asked.
"Am I asking for too much? If I... if I weren't the queen of this country, you probably wouldn't care for and embrace me like you do now... But still, even so..."
"Elize."
Ivan placed his hand over Elizabeta's. Beneath it, warm breath and trembling tickled his wrist. Small. Everything is. This hand, and the face beneath it.
"No one can overcome memories. Because memories are preserved at their most beautiful moments. Just as terrible moments can be pleasantly reminisced upon after they've passed, how much more polished would fond memories become over time? So, I too won't demand from you... love beyond memories."
Elizabeta was already sobbing.
"But... for me to ask you... for emotions other than loyalty... is this small selfishness of mine... truly too much...?"
"..."
"Say something. Anything will do...!! You, you must know how I, how I feel about you!"
"Elize."
At Ivan's words, Elizabeta flinched and shrank her neck. But Ivan continued, soothing her shoulders.
"You asked me how I got here. Do you remember?"
"...And you answered that you came on foot."
"Yes. The reason I didn't give any other explanation is simply because there is none."
Ivan slowly stroked Elizabeta's shoulders, then placed his hand on her thin waist and gently caressed it. Elizabeta trembled lightly and let out a comfortable sigh.
"I couldn't remember the process."
"Remember...?"
"How I got here. What I was thinking. What process I went through, how many days it took to get here. How I could get here so quickly. None of those things came to mind."
"Why...?"
"Because I thought you were dead."
Ivan removed his hand from Elizabeta's eyes. Her reddened, swollen eyes looked up at him.
"Reading the traces of defeat, I learned what I didn't want to know. How many people would have died here. What kind of battle had taken place. And that demons don't leave corpses behind. So..."
"That I, that I would have died there?"
"...Yes. After that, I just walked. Maybe I ran. I kept walking until I saw the demons... until I saw the Seven Dragon General's army. Without sleeping, resting, or eating anything, I just walked."
So in other words,
"I came diligently on foot."
This one sentence was probably the best description he could give.
At this awkward man's first emotional expression, Elizabeta suddenly looked into his eyes.
Ivan's eyes were not meeting hers. He was hesitating with a slightly distant gaze.
That wetted a corner of her heart in a way that couldn't be exchanged for anything. Elizabeta's lips trembled finely.
"Ivan Petrovich Yeremov... you..."
"Stop."
"You love me...!"
"Stop."
"So it was true. It was true...!! Is this truly not a dream? If I, if I am dreaming now, wake me up quickly... no, no, no. Don't wake me! Let me enjoy it a little more, a little longer before I wake up! I'll get up on my own, so just a little longer...!"
"Stop, Elize. Stop."
"This is a miracle!! A miracle!! The Lord has truly planted a human heart in this wooden man! My goodness, I almost believed he was a golem!!"
"Elize, I need to go to the meeting now."
"Alright!!"
Elizabeta wiped her tears bravely and said.
"I will wait here! Protecting this child preciously! Ah... movement... am I feeling the baby move...? This feeling..."
"Movement is not an emotion, and it starts at 30 weeks of pregnancy. The child here doesn't even have a developed heart yet..."
"That's really sobering information. Thank you. Now get out!"
When Elizabeta shouted, Ivan silently bowed his head and left the tent. The handmaidens, startled by his movement, hurriedly retreated to make way for him.
As soon as the tent door closed, Elizabeta's scream-mixed moan was faintly heard. And the small sound of stomping feet that could be caught by superhuman hearing.
Ivan shook his head briefly and walked.
"This balance is too broken."
"Yu-jin. You're here."
"Should I... make you make a 'more difficult choice'...?"
Yu-jin stood beside Ivan with a grin. Ivan continued walking without stopping and said.
"Stop talking nonsense, how did it go?"
"Ah, you were right, brother. I took Lucia and Yu-ri to confirm, and it was really like that."
"So we've avoided the worst."
"...That wasn't the worst?"
"Hmm."
Yu-jin frowned as he looked at Ivan. He had just returned from tracking traces of demons across the great plains for the past half day.
For a mission that couldn't be officially revealed to anyone.
To find Maximillian's location.
"Which direction was it?"
"West... sir."
"It shouldn't be too far. What about Lundis?"
"He's searching underground with Enrique. He'll be back soon."
"Prepare for the meeting. Tell everyone to gather and wait. Good work."
"Yes, brother."
Yu-jin bowed his head and moved away. Ivan glanced at him and then continued walking, lost in thought.
The retreat routes of the demons had coincided.
Looking back at past battle experiences, when a Seven Dragon General dies on the frontline, all demons fragment and scatter in disorder.
This was natural. Demons worship the logic of power, and the right to command them is given only to the stronger ones.
Demons are a race with strong competitive spirit and greed. To order them to advance toward the frontline 'prepared to die,' divine authority is needed.
Therefore, during the past few centuries when the Seven Dragon Generals did not directly concentrate their military power, demons were pushed back to the demon realm without daring to invade the territories of the United Kingdoms.
The reason was simple. Unless one was a god, they wouldn't sincerely consider fellow mortals as their leaders.
While humans determine hierarchy through social structures and civilization, demons worship only the stronger ones.
Even if one rises to become a 'clan chief' or 'tribal chief,' that power doesn't last long. Before 10 years pass, if their physical strength diminishes even slightly with age, they face challenges. And if they survive that period, they earn the qualification to ascend as a god.
It's natural for a society with living, existing tribal gods under the same sky to change like that. In a world where the stronger ascend, demons had to continue their struggle endlessly to become gods.
Unlike the United Kingdoms, which had formed a civilization with a firm monotheistic religion.
In such a situation, if a Seven Dragon General died, their subordinates would never form an army in one place. The cohesion would break, and they would scatter and hide somewhere in Krasilov's territory.
With no retreat path, not much to eat, and all surrounding humans either dead, fortified, or retreated, demons would die isolated throughout the country.
However, the fact that the retreat routes coincided means that they still have a central command tower. And in this theater, there is only one 'divine being' who can do such a thing.
Maximillian. The one who became the Demon King.
There's no need to ask how a human became a god to demons. It's enough to prove 'overwhelming strength.' Overwhelming force that could make even their gods kneel.
So, west.
At the end of that direction where the sun is now gradually setting, the Demon King is waiting.
Despite the fact that if he had intervened when Nekinon died, he could have slaughtered him, the Hero Party, and everyone else in an instant and easily swallowed the United Kingdoms.
"What do you want, Maximillian?"
Ivan muttered toward the direction the sun was crossing.
"True freedom."
Maximillian whispered with a smile toward the direction from which the sun was approaching.