Prosnark's Eastward Advance (1)

Prosnark.

Officially, the Prosnark Coalition.

The nickname I usually go with: Space Nazis.

And the name the rest of the galaxy uses for them — the Exterminators of the Cosmos, or the Scourge of God. A dangerous nation by any measure.

That lunatic state had finally ended its rest period and was launching a full-scale war. The news left me stunned beyond words.

And no, it was not for any petty reason like my vacation vanishing into thin air.

So when my leave was forcibly cut short and I rushed into the Imperial Palace, I could fully understand the bewilderment written across the faces of the countless bureaucrats waiting there.

"How is this even possible?! Attacking the galaxy's three great superpowers at the same time…!"

"Perhaps they actually have a way to win?"

"Prosnark may have looked formidable in fleet battles, but their opponent is Kerzin's Invincible Fleet!"

And that went for even the highest-ranking officials seated closest to Artraia — not just the ordinary bureaucrats.

"What's the situation looking like?"

"Ah, you've arrived. Intelligence just contacted us — they're finishing up a polish on the latest reports as we speak."

"I see."

The newly appointed Foreign Minister spoke with careful composure, clearly intent on gathering every scrap of information he could.

"…Has the Executive Ministry uncovered anything of its own, by any chance?"

"I'm afraid I have to disappoint you. Until moments ago, I was still on leave."

"Ah."

Of course, the moment he realized he was talking to a pitiful civil servant whose first vacation in ten years had just been shredded, he promptly turned his head away.

At any rate, while we traded those trivial asides, officials scattered across the Empire either gathered in person or joined via hologram.

"Her Majesty the Great Empress of the Holy Sevelian Empire now enters!"

"Let us rise."

"Yes."

With Empress Artraia's entrance, the imperial court session began in earnest.

"It appears everyone is present. We'll skip the formalities and move straight to the matter at hand."

"Yes, Your Majesty!!"

Given the gravity of the issue, the session proceeded at a rapid clip, free of ornamental rhetoric.

"In the face of Prosnark's lightning invasion, the border defense fleets of each nation have been annihilated. The affected powers are currently mustering their fleets and attempting to form defensive lines of their own."

As the briefing moderator spoke, the main screen in the chamber displayed a simplified map of Prosnark's advance routes.

Several members of the Military Council frowned at what they saw.

"Hmm? Why are they only punching a straight line through Kerzin Federation territory?"

"Exactly. Have they not considered being encircled by Kerzin forces stationed elsewhere?"

It was a pure straight-line thrust — the kind that called to mind the Qing army during the Byeongja Horan of my previous life, simply driving forward without pause.

But the answer to that question proved rather shocking.

"Regarding that issue — the Kerzin Federation abandoned every region of the former Prosnark territories under their control and withdrew of their own accord."

"…"

"This is only what our Intelligence Bureau has determined, but Kerzin transferred everything from the former Prosnark zone back to their original homeland: defense fleets, mining operations, countless fortresses and structures… shipyards, interstellar hubs — even the population."

"Oh…"

"In the truest sense of the word, they moved everything. You may regard that entire vast expanse as nothing but empty void."

…That never happened in the game.

The revelation that Kerzin had run a scorched-earth strategy against Prosnark from the very start hit me with genuine sensational force.

Demolishing every building on every planet. Stripping the mineral veins clean.

"Impossible. The population living in that region alone must exceed ten billion!"

"Remarkable. Truly remarkable."

They even dragged along every last stubborn civilian who refused to listen?

Considering the colossal resources and political capital required for such an operation, it was nothing less than a declaration of will: Prosnark would get nothing. Not a scrap.

And as if to transmit my shock directly into the world, an event message appeared alongside it.

Watching someone pull off scorched-earth tactics in a science-fiction setting, I slapped my forehead in my mind.

Once the commotion had settled somewhat, the interrupted briefing resumed.

"In the early stages of the war, the Prosnark fleets that had begun their broad border penetration began consolidating into three major waves."

At the moderator's words, the briefing screen highlighted each fleet in turn.

"First, Wave One is currently locked in a standoff at the Kinam Corridor — the sole hyperspace jump route connecting Kerzin territory to the former Prosnark zone."

"Kerzin holds Kinam, Prosnark holds Toth, then."

As the moderator spoke, fleets from both Prosnark and Kerzin continued to mass along the corridor.

"Next, Wave Two is advancing slowly toward the Zeltech front, engaging every fortress and fleet in its path."

"…Do those Zeltech idiots not even know how to fight a fleet battle? They're just feeding units in piecemeal like madmen."

I nodded inwardly at the muttered remark that followed the moderator's words.

"Finally, Wave Three destroyed Zutrakfor's border defense line — the Proton Fortress — along with the first fleet assembled there, and is continuing to push deeper."

With those final words, the moderator stepped back, and the chamber filled almost at once with noisy debate.

"Does Prosnark ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠truly believe it can win, to act like this?"

"Even so, charging headlong into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the galaxy's three great superpowers…"

"Perhaps they've simply given up."

"Indeed. With the Galactic League already imposing massive trade sanctions, they may have decided to go out in a blaze of glory rather than starve."

For the majority present, the prevailing view was that this war would end in Prosnark's crushing defeat.

It wasn't as though information networks were as underdeveloped as Earth's during the Second World War of my previous life…

And everyone already knew that Kerzin hadn't simply lost vast territory — they had deliberately scorched it.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity granted by God Himself!"

"Exactly! A holy war to reclaim the northern regions that were stolen from us!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"No — we should seize Prosnark territory as well, and ensure those forces of evil can never run rampant again!"

And that line of thinking seemed to ignite the militarist soul that appeared to be hardwired into the DNA of the Empire's people.

"But for all their wickedness, the Prosnark are not fools, are they?"

"Would it not be wiser to observe the situation a little longer first?"

Of course, the rational faction that exists everywhere tried to douse the roaring flames with cold water…

"How can you treat the matter of sacred territory so lightly!"

"Are you a traitor?"

"N-no, nothing of the sort — I merely meant we should proceed with greater caution…"

Before the zealots who wanted not only to reclaim the lost northern territories but to build a Sevelian Lebensraum in place of the Space Nazis, those objections were little more than droplets of water.

And then something happened that poured oil straight onto the fire…

"Your Majesty! The ambassador of the Kerzin Federation requests an audience!"

"…Admit him."

In the middle of a session already devoted to this very war, the ambassador Kerzin had dispatched arrived at the Imperial Palace in person.

"I trust Your Majesty has been well, Empress Artraia."

"You seem to be managing rather well yourself, Ambassador. Even now."

Upon entering, the Kerzin ambassador offered his formal greetings to Artraia according to protocol.

"I would have preferred lighter conversation, but my government has issued instructions."

With those words, the Kerzin ambassador cleared his throat, then went straight to the heart of why he had come.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Secretary-General Rakshar of the Kerzin Federation requests that the Holy Sevelian Empire join us in this holy war."

Producing a diplomatic document written in the distinctive phrasing of the Kerzin Federation, the ambassador pressed on.

"In the face of wicked Prosnark's advance, we must stand and fight as honorable members of the Galactic League!"

"…"

"Zeltech and Zutrakfor already stand with us — but if Sevelia joins as well, it would be as good as gaining a heavenly host!"

"Hmm…"

"That is all."

When the ambassador finished, the reaction in the court session was nothing short of fervent.

"Hear, hear!!"

"Your Majesty, is this not the very moment to wage a holy war?!"

"The reclamation of the northern territories! That glorious purpose!"

Even among the existing neutrals and those who had favored caution, some began to shift their stance.

"Well, if Kerzin is with us…"

"No matter how strong Prosnark may be, four against one should be more than enough, shouldn't it?"

Even Empress Artraia herself seemed to be genuinely deliberating.

"Indeed… it does not seem a poor prospect."

At that, a faint smile naturally touched the Kerzin ambassador's face.

But just as the mood was about to tip decisively, someone slammed on the brakes.

"No. We must not enter this war."

At the sudden dissenting voice, the Empress, the assembled throng, and even the Kerzin ambassador all turned their eyes toward the sound…

And at the end of those gazes stood the speaker himself.

Which is to say, me — and under that crushing weight of attention, I had no choice but to hit pause again out of sheer awkwardness.

Ugh, damn it. Talk about pressure.