The Warlord (9)

"The galaxy was always burning."

"That did not necessarily mean war."

"Clashes between civilizations, the gulf between rich and poor, discrimination by species."

"I would force every form of discrimination, injustice, and malice to kneel beneath my banner."

"A world where all became one—and for that end I would employ force, or anything else required."

"Yet the lofty gods of the heavens seem utterly unwilling to let me see that plan through."

"Still, I have no intention of bending my convictions over something so trivial."

"Come at me, you slaves of hierarchy who possess neither belief nor will."

Through the action cams of the Purge Squad troopers who had once again rammed their assault craft into the Warlord’s flagship, I finally got a look at the man himself in the flesh.

Facing a special-forces unit packing gene mods, powered armor, every weapon under the sun, psionics, and heavy ordnance, he stood there with only a handful of his personal guard and still carried himself like he owned the place.

"Whoa… that’s something else, yeah."

"No kidding."

It looked for all the world like some balding middle-aged guy who’d been suckered by a weird cult, hit a delayed midlife crisis, and was now putting on a spectacular display of filial piety for his old man. Riel and I kept stuffing our faces with the caramel popcorn she’d fried up herself, watching the show grow more and more entertaining by the second.

-"Die!"

-BOOM!

True to the name Warlord, he wielded every weapon as if it were an extension of his own body, matching the Purge Squad troopers blow for blow in close combat.

-"Suppress him with psionics!"

-"Pathetic parlor tricks!"

-"What—?!"

"Whoa, so the Warlord’s a psionic himself, yeah."

"Ooooh…"

The moment a psionic embedded in the boarding force tried to seize him with telekinesis, he simply hurled a telekinetic blast right back at the man. When the guns opened up—

-"Fire!"

-BRRRRT… WHIIIIINE!

-"Hmph!"

"Whoa."

"Whoa."

—he threw up a telekinetic barrier and stopped the entire barrage dead in mid-air. In pure combat terms he was the complete package; calling him an all-rounder didn’t even begin to cover it.

"The Warlord’s seriously impressive, yeah."

"You’re telling me. Never thought one guy could solo an entire Purge Squad platoon."

Of course, that heroic stand didn’t last long.

"Additional assault craft are going in, yeah. The Warlord’s flagship now has a full battalion of Imperial special forces aboard, Purge Squad included."

"Hah."

The Warlord’s proud Guard Fleet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and the Keshik fleets threw everything they had into reversing the tide, but the operation I’d planned with Ash and Artraia—Operation Space-Monster Toss—had already lured in swarms of cosmic beasts. Combined with the allied fleet’s firepower, those fleets were being ground down one by one.

In the middle of that meat grinder the Warlord’s flagship kept pouring fire into every enemy vessel around it even as Purge Squad assault craft punched into its flanks, a final act of defiance…

"Aaaagh! The enemy capital ship is closing in!"

Ash brought her massive bulk right up alongside and hammered the flagship with point-blank broadsides until it was dead in the water. Then the Purge Squad and the rest of the Imperial special forces rammed boarding craft into the crippled hull by the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dozen.

-"Nngh… so this is how I end."

What had started as a platoon of Purge Squad troopers had swollen to company strength, then battalion strength. Under that overwhelming weight of numbers even the Warlord finally hit his limit.

-"But I will never be taken prisoner. Farewell, world!"

"Ah."

Sensing the end, the Warlord took his own life before the surrounding troops could stop him. Watching it, I felt a genuine pang of regret.

Regret, yes—but also a wave of relief.

-"Minister, what should we do with the Warlord’s body?"

The field report from a Purge Squad trooper made me want to ship the corpse straight to an Imperial research lab… but that felt like crossing a line, so I crushed the impulse and answered.

"Leave enough evidence that we were the ones who took him down, then leave the body on the flagship."

Given that this was the Warlord’s final flagship, the vessel would have to be blown to dust anyway. No point leaving a corpse for his followers to rally around. And letting him go down with his ship felt like a small gesture of respect on my part.

-"Understood. We’ll carve the Warlord’s body into a nice little star shape and then pull out."

"What."

Unfortunately, the frontline troops felt a lot more strongly about the Warlord than I had anticipated. The next thing I knew, a live gore-cam feed was being broadcast in real time to every high-ranking Imperial official—including me.

"…Ah, damn it."

I grabbed the back of my neck and started to collapse—except this time Riel was right beside me, and Alina, that walking encyclopedia of a woman, was there too. No hospital trip required; they had me patched up and back on my feet in no time.

And so the Warlord was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠neatly diced into a star shape, his flagship detonated, and news of his death raced across the galaxy. Celebration erupted everywhere.

"The war’s over now, so things should stay peaceful for a while, yeah."

Even Riel, watching beside me, said as much. If she felt that way, everyone else must have been over the moon.

I couldn’t bring myself to agree.

The reason was simple.

Goddamn it.

The cursed event message was living proof that the Warlord’s death wouldn’t simply reset everything to normal. And there was still a linked event waiting in the wings, which made my heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Wait—what the hell was the follow-up event again?

The real problem was that I couldn’t remember a single thing about what came next.

Am I already suffering from early-onset dementia?

Strictly speaking, probably not. I’d been living this reincarnated life for over fifteen years already—how was I supposed to remember every last detail? I didn’t have perfect recall, and back when my memory was still sharp I’d been too busy to jot the events down.

The more I think about it, the more pathetic I look.

Deciding further rumination was pointless, I recalled my earlier conversation with Riel and unpaused.

"From where I’m standing, the chaos is only going to get worse for a while."

I steered the conversation as naturally as I could.

…It didn’t feel all that natural, but whatever.

The moment the words left my mouth, Riel whipped her head around and glared at me in pure irritation.

"What? Why, yeah?"

Those axe-blade eyes and that venomous look made me reach for the ever-ready Etiquette Injection Rod once more.

"Why would it turn out that way, yeah?"

The second she spotted the rod she corrected her attitude on pure reflex. I nodded in satisfaction, put the rod away, and answered.

"The event."

"Ah—you mean there’s still more left, yeah?"

When I nodded again she just heaved a long, heavy sigh.

"This is bad, yeah. The Galactic League is already talking about how the Warlord’s death has brought peace to the galaxy."

"…"

"So how long do you figure this chaos is going to last, Minister?"

Looking at Riel’s thoroughly enlightened expression, I hit pause again to gather my thoughts.

After what felt like several more hours of pure thinking, I finally unpaused and spoke.

"…Even on the short end, we’re looking at years."

That prediction of mine soon made its way not only to Riel but to the Imperial Diet of the Holy Sevelian Empire as well. As always, plenty of people dismissed my gloomy forecast—until the eastern galaxy erupted into full-blown chaos not long after. Once again I found myself under suspicion of being some kind of prophet (???).