Her faint breathing came in uneven gasps, and the world reflected in her eyes warped as though bent out of shape. Her legs, stubborn as if throwing a tantrum, refused to carry her forward, and even the smallest step felt like trying to cross treacherous terrain. Even the phrase battered from head to toe would have been an understatement. Makoto’s condition was horrific.

The misfire of Heavy Burst had blown apart her left arm. Everything from the elbow down had been blasted away somewhere far off, and what remained had been torn up nearly to the shoulder. The incomplete magic barrier had failed to absorb the backlash, leaving burns and lacerations devouring her entire body.

“Look closely. It’s me.”

Moving with the staggering gait of a revenant, Makoto lazily called out into the darkness. A shadow that had blended into the dim gloom stepped forward.

“I’m surprised. To think you survived that explosion.”

It was one of the Rehazen Knight Order members who had participated in the assault. They were not the sort who would rejoice at meeting again, and his manner was thoroughly businesslike. Even with a girl in front of him whose arm had been torn off and whose whole body was charred and mangled, he didn’t offer a single word of encouragement. Typical of the Rehazen Knight Order, really.

“The mud… acted as a cushion. And the corpses mixed in the mud made pretty good decoys too… I guess.”

“There is a healing mage among the support personnel waiting at the meeting point. Please wait a little longer.”

The knight disappeared back into the darkness. Makoto sank to the ground and, unable to bear the dull pain any longer, stretched out her remaining arm. When she felt along her side, she discovered a sharp white shard embedded there.

“That fire guy… really did a number on me.”

She couldn’t even tell where the fragment had come from, it could’ve even been a piece of shattered bone. From the blood loss, her vision narrowed and swayed from side to side. Just as Makoto was about to lose consciousness, a sharp slap struck her cheek, and her eyes snapped open.

“Ow… that hurts.”

Her eyelids had grown heavy. Glaring at the culprit through half-open eyes, she saw the Rehazen Knight Order knight standing there without the slightest hint of guilt.

“Do not pass out. If your magic barrier breaks, you’ll die from blood loss and pain. Keep talking until we close the wound.”

“Talk… in this situation?”

The imperial knight who loved playing with fire, the kingdom’s knight who seemed devoid of emotion… every last one of them had a screw loose in their heads. Makoto’s thoughts fled reality, drifting into the absurd conclusion that what the world needed more than civilization or culture was screwdrivers and wrenches.

“What happened beyond the shoulder?”

“Everything below the elbow was torn off, so that’s gone. Up to just before the shoulder couldn’t withstand the magic… so it blew apart.”

It had been nothing more than a makeshift trick from the start. The price for that was the misfire. It had served as a diversion that allowed her to escape the Demon Fire user whose eyes had been blinded by the flash, but the fact that she had been forced to flee by sacrificing an arm made Makoto mock herself. It was no different from those creatures that shed their tails or limbs to escape.

“Completely blown to pieces, then. In that case, reattachment will be impossible.”

After giving instructions to the accompanying healing mage, the Rehazen knight changed the subject.

“We would be troubled if you failed to obey commander Gran’s strict order not to go too deep.”

“I know… I got greedy. But really, that coming from you people?”

“…On that point, I can’t argue.”

Despite his words, the knight remained irritatingly calm. Thanks to the teachings of their detestable past commanders, the lives of both themselves and others held little value in this order. Even if a comrade died, hey viewed it only as a reduction in the military strength of the order and the state.

This knight was still among the better ones. Aside from Johanna and a few rare exceptions, most of them didn’t see people as individuals, but as numbers. In fact, aside from the support personnel, the number of soldiers who had taken part in the assault and survived could be counted on one hand. They might’ve lamented the loss of manpower, but they didn’t mourn the individuals themselves.

“Gran’s… going to be so annoying about this.”

“You mean Lady Gran, Makoto. That said, one of the objectives of this operation, the blockage of the Refun Mine and the mountain fortress, has been accomplished.”

“I should’ve just fired a shot and run… What the hell was that guy? He’s way worse than before.”

“Yes… it seems we grew greedy as well.”

Even a Rehazen knight with almost no sense of empathy seemed deeply shaken by the fact that they had nearly been wiped out by the aftereffects of Demon Fire. For once, their feelings aligned.

“Hah… haa… the real battle’s still ahead, right? Dying in the opening skirmish would’ve been pretty pathetic… wouldn’t it?”

◆

Because of its value, the area around Refun Mine had always been plagued by conflict. To firmly secure control over the mine, a mountain fortress had been constructed. In times of crisis, it also served as a strategic base. Now, people from the mining town and those caught in the mudslide downstream were being carried in one after another.

Two days had passed since that battle. The healing mages were still running themselves ragged trying to save lives, while Justan was busy coordinating with the local garrison and the Selta territory authorities.

Walm had experienced many battlefields before, but the toll on his body and mind felt heavier than usual. Was it because he had burned Makoto, Ayane’s childhood friend and someone from his own homeland? During the brief rest Justan had granted him, Walm lit a cigarette of violet flame, letting it smolder as he stacked one butt after another, but no answer came.

“I’ve killed more people than I can count. What difference does it make now? It’s just one more.”

In a deserted corner of the ramparts, he drew in the bitter white smoke and questioned himself again and again, yet nothing settled cleanly in his mind.

“Self-defense… a justified killing… huh. That’s just packaging it nicely. No matter how I say it, I still killed her.”

Worst of all, he still had not told Ayane the truth, hiding behind the excuse of being busy.

“Someday… I’ll have to tell her.”

It was only a matter of sooner or later. Walm understood that much logically, but separating reason from emotion was something he had never grown used to, no matter how many years had passed. As if to interrupt his thoughts, the sharp clack of a sentry’s boots echoed along the wall as they made their rounds.

Drawn by the sound, he looked up. A small patch of sky, framed by the corner of the fortress wall, came into view. It was an endless blue without a single cloud. With a sigh, Walm exhaled a stream of white smoke, staining that innocent sky.

His escape from reality had reached its limit. Just as he began resigning himself to that fact, he noticed the flow of people shifting along with a sudden burst of commotion.

“What’s happened now?”

Soldiers were running about inside the fortress, messages being passed hurriedly from mouth to mouth. It was clearly no ordinary matter, yet there were no sounds of battle and no scent of blood. Even the demon mask, normally sensitive to the presence of bloodshed, remained silent. That alone was enough to tell him this wasn’t some kind of surprise attack.

Crushing the cigarette beneath his boot, Walm broke into a light run. He headed toward the infirmary, his assigned post, and searched the adjoining guest rooms for familiar faces. Among those gathered in a heated argument stood one of the guards from Highserk.

“Douglas, what happened?”

The moment Walm faced him, he knew from the man’s bitter expression that it was nothing good.

“…In Yarkuk, a force claiming to be the army of the former kingdom of Felius has risen in armed rebellion.”

Walm searched his memory. Yarkuk was a small town located between Refun and Selta. Though it had once been part of the former kingdom of Felius, it had long since been absorbed into Mayard. Even if a revolt broke out there, it would be isolated and without support. At best, it might’ve held out for a short time before being crushed.

The real problem was that, to any observer, the uprising had occurred in coordination with the attack on Refun Mine. The one pulling the strings behind the scenes could only be the Crest kingdom.

“Urgent report! Urgent repooort!”

Bursting into the room shouting the news was Justan, who had been stationed day and night at the communications office equipped with magical communication devices.

“If it’s about the Yarkuk uprising, we already—”

To Walm’s dismay, the flow of information was not going smoothly. He tried to say that word of the uprising had already reached them, but Justan cut him off.

“No, that’s not it. Rebellions have broken out in Balboa and Ranaisfer as well.”

“What?! Near the temporary border with Crest?”

It was even worse news than the uprising in Yarkuk. A rebellion breaking out during a border conflict with a neighboring nation would invite foreign intervention. For that reason, it had to be suppressed quickly and decisively.

“Refun’s main road is blocked. Can the Selta forces handle it on their own?”

The mountain fortress overlooking the region had effectively become a landlocked island along with the mine. While the sustainability of elemental magic was limited, its immediate output could rival heavy machinery. Given a month or so, the problem could be resolved, but at present, the two battalions responsible for defending the Refun region were in a pitiful shape.

“It would be possible with the standing forces alone, but our defenses would be stretched too thin.”

Justan’s concern was valid. Although Selta possessed a large number of soldiers, not all of them were standing troops. The number of forces that could respond immediately was limited.

“The Highserk forces stationed in Selta will likely be deployed as well. If everything is combined, it should amount to about a battalion’s worth of troops.”

Douglas, who had close ties with the imperial troops, mentioned them as one of the available forces. They were a unit dispatched as a symbol of the alliance between the two nations. Even within the Highserk’s army, where manpower was constantly stretched thin, they were considered a high-quality unit.

And when it came to playing the villain on the ground, there was no one more suited to the role than Highserk imperial soldiers. “They’ll handle both the carrot and the stick,” Walm thought with a sour expression. The group continued their discussion, but it was abruptly interrupted by a voice shouting at the top of its lungs.

“Where is Lord Justan?!”

“I’m here.”

Justan answered immediately. Having found the man he was looking for, the messenger rushed forward, trying to report even as he struggled to catch his breath.

“More news, I take it. Catch one or two breaths first before speaking.”

His chest rose and fell visibly as he inhaled. Once he had taken in enough air, the messenger spoke in a rapid rush.

“Orders from Selta Command! Lady Ayane and her escort unit are to return immediately!”

“Understood. We’ll begin withdrawing at once. And… there’s more, isn’t there?”

It was standard practice to position healing mages close to the front before suppression operations began, so being recalled was expected. Walm waited for the rest of the report.

“Y-yes! The Crest kingdom and the Libertoa Trade Federation have… declared war on the Mayard Duchy. War… war is about to begin!”

Confusion, shock, and anger raced across Justan’s face as he demanded the details from the messenger. Other soldiers immediately began firing off questions as well. The room descended into a frenzy. Standing apart from the uproar, Walm murmured quietly to himself.

“…After all the killing… after all those deaths…”

The smoldering embers of conflict, the unstable political climate, the clashes beneath the surface… sooner or later, somewhere, a large-scale war would erupt. His experience as a soldier had long been sounding that warning. Even so, Walm had hoped the nations would remain locked in a slow, tense stalemate while they spent their military strength reclaiming and rebuilding lands from the demonic territory.

But the news delivered instead was a declaration of war.

“In the end… nobody learned a thing. Is the dominance of the northern nations really that tempting? All that’s left behind are rubble and corpses.”

The throne of power would be built on top of countless deaths.

The fragile peace shattered. After only two years, the northern nations were once again at the brink of war.

Translator – Lyxxna