Crushing the Demon King's Army (1)
“Is that what demons look like?”
The ridgeline was packed with demonic hordes. There was something that instinctively stirred primal fear.
“What are you so worried about, Count Burden?”
At that moment, one of the five nobles participating in this war approached.
“Their numbers are 100,000. Ours are 200,000. In the end, war is just a game of numbers.”
The emperor, having received Liannen Kingdom's response, flew into a rage. With things as they were, he had two options: send his own imperial guard or cede merits to the nobles. He chose the latter.
“If you're scared, stay out of it. This is where House Roang will prove our loyalty to His Majesty.”
Burden, a Sword Master and the current battlefield's supreme commander, remained silent.
The empire's hierarchy was unique. With such vast lands, they had no choice but to recognize the nobles' autonomy, granting them independent chains of command. Though Burden was nominally the emperor's appointee as supreme commander, he had no authority to freely maneuver troops.
“……Even now, I advise pulling your forces back to the castle.”
Burden knew well how dangerous it was to fight without enemy intel. He wanted to withdraw the main force and scout with a detachment, but the nobles—fearing lost merits—had already positioned their troops outside the castle.
“Hah, why talk like that? We're loyal subjects following our great emperor. How could we cower and watch from behind like cowards?”
Their judgment stemmed from Liannen Kingdom's intel. When they acquired the northern territories, reports indicated fewer than 3,000 defenders. Thus, the demons' army must consist of individually weak foes. Yet the empire's forces outnumbered them twofold.
It's not about victory or defeat. It's a contest of who racks up more merits!
Most nobles thought that way. Burden partly agreed.
But why this unease?
His sword tip trembled. A bad premonition gripped him.
Was it because deskbound nobles held real power? Because they'd abandoned siege warfare for open fields? No—that wasn't it.
Burden swallowed dryly. The distant demons' aura felt off.
“Lady Freya, Lady Freya.”
Liliana spoke to Freya in an innocent voice. Freya eyed the humans coolly before glancing aside.
“Yeah?”
“So many humans gathered. First time seeing that.”
It was Freya's first too.
Do they have some trick up their sleeve?
Demons' foes were always Liannen. Of course, by Freya's recent standards—300 years ago—they'd clashed with the empire too. Objectively, humans were mere prey back then.
Humans became true 'enemies' just 300 years ago, when Lydia Belladis Liannen took power.
Humans always avoided massing against us like that.
Especially in open plains without cover, ripe for devouring. They feared demons' large-scale magic.
“Got a skilled mage?”
Freya tilted her head. Sometimes they'd lure for sniping with big spells—vulnerable even for demons during casting. A favorite of the Butcher, Sisilia Windsor: induce mass magic, pinpoint, shatter with Wind Shear, and snipe.
“No presence that strong. Everything below me's still fresh.”
“……I didn't ask that far.”
“Heehee, wanna hit 'em with one?”
Liliana now pissed herself at Sisilia's sight, but as second among the Seven Deadly Sins, she was formidable. Her Authority was absolute against humans—200,000 dead in under five minutes.
But Freya declined.
“Dunno. They might be suppressing presence. If you step out needlessly, they could counter. Here—I'll handle it.”
Considering contingencies.
Freya stepped forward. The 100,000-strong army parted like the Red Sea.
Freya, the time demon—one of the three great demons, weakest in raw combat power, yet untouchable even by the Four Heavenly Kings among demons.
“Nice and clumped—saves time. Then—”
Freya extended a hand toward the humans. The white-haired girl made an odd gesture; imperial soldiers scowled.
Burden, interpreting as a duel challenge, stepped out gladly.
Freya snapped her fingers impassively.
Snap—.
The clear sound echoed.
Burden's eyes widened; he halted.
Whoosh—birds plummeted from the sky.
Soldiers clutched hearts and collapsed.
No screams. They died unknowing.
Then skeletons.
30,000 soldiers dead with one gesture.
Burden stared in disbelief.
About 5.2 million years, roughly.
Stealing so much time at once thrilled Freya—it'd been ages. Enough for a decent spell even in the human realm.
“T-the whole army!”
Burden thrust his sword skyward desperately. Vast aura surged along the blade.
“Charge—!”
“……”
No response. Soldiers gawked blankly at fresh skeletons.
“Can't you hear!? Charge!”
Liliana belly-laughed at his frenzy.
“Uwahahaha—! Look at that human! Face is hilarious.”
Burden bit his lip. He maxed his aura blade massively.
Finally, soldiers' eyes turned to him.
Aura Blade. Sword Master's mark—beyond human limits.
To them, humanity's hope.
“What's that!? Uw, ahahaha! Lady Freya, these humans are too fun, right?”
To demons, a hedgehog puffing desperately.
“Quiet. Need focus.”
Liliana zipped her lips, nodding frantically.
Freya gazed skyward, drawing in air. A massive magic circle formed beyond clouds—in the heavens.
No fire, ice, lightning etched there.
It was—denial of order.
Revocation of life.
Severance of time.
“Stop it! Must stop it! Throw your lives—! Even if torn apart!”
Burden couldn't grasp Freya's act, but decades on battlefields screamed instinct: that spell mustn't happen. None would escape death upon activation.
Burden roared madly; some humans charged late. Imperial mages belatedly cast barriers.
Freya did nothing. No need.
150,000 ground troops weren't dead—yet.
But their deaths were already 'recorded' in the circle.
Irreversible fate.
Red letters shone in the sky.
Those who shall disappear, I deny your existence.
⸻!
No explosion, no screams—150,000 vanished from earth. No corpses left.
“Left 20,000.”
Freya stared straight at the silent plain, frozen Burden.
“Do what you want with the rest.”
She turned, interest gone.
Watching Freya vanish through the gate, grinning demons gather—Burden realized.
What fighting demons meant.
How foolish his empire was.
**
“280,000 imperial troops have perished. They're clinging to the castle desperately—but at this rate, they won't last a month.”
Silence hung in Liannen Kingdom's audience chamber.
They'd expected the empire no match for demons.
But not this devastation.
“P-please—”
The diplomat prostrated, trembling.
Lydia smirked at the attitude shift.
“Grant us mercy, Your Majesty!”
Tears welled as he pleaded.
“If the empire falls, y-your kingdom won't be safe either!”
Unlike before, the emperor ordered: offer all authority for swift Liannen aid.
He begged desperately.
“280,000! 280,000 lives lost!”
Lydia's face showed no emotion. She gazed transparently at the imperial envoy.
“How far has the Demon King's army advanced?”
“B-Braccas Territory, Your Majesty.”
Hasn't crossed the Maginot Line yet.
Not time for forced intervention.
“Demon King's army casualties?”
“……Virtually none.”
“……Virtually none?”
Even without experience against demons, the numbers don't add up.
The empire didn't know Liannen's strength, but Liannen knew theirs precisely. Such massive losses so quickly was anomalous.
The empire had Sword Masters. Stronger than the Holy Nation's.
If Holy Nation Sword Masters equaled Windsor regular knights, empire elites matched high knights.
A few below Sword Emperor rank—enough for Seven Deadly Sins.
Yet no resistance meant—
Off-spec existence.
Demon King's side had something rivaling or surpassing Four Heavenly Kings.
That legion commander, Freya the demon.
Such caliber unbeatable by empire.
Time until irreversible imperial collapse nears fast.
Sisilia set Maginot Line as threshold for intervention.
But Lydia had no such intent.
Aiding empire only when they surrendered everything.
Problem: no time for emperor's deliberations.
Only solution—
Lydia decided swiftly, turning aside.
“Sir Erterion. Bring it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The envoy snatched the pledge, read—and paled like sky falling.
“This... makes us a vassal state.”
The pledge was ruinous for empire—clauses crushing them.
A polite threat.
“Too much! Even for kingdom aid, we can't accept...”
Lydia spoke impassively.
“Won't accept?”
“……!”
“Can empire overcome alone?”
“B-but!”
“One thing learned in 300 years fighting demons.”
Lydia smiled faintly.
“Better human rule than demon.”
“……”
He'd read countless reports. Even in print, the horrors transmitted fully.
The queen spoke no lies—cold reality.
“Besides, that pledge is merciful. Compared to what your empire did to others.”
“Or is your pride worth more than the empire?”
“N-not my pride, Your Majesty. Emperor accepting... unlikely.”
“Then your task.”
Lydia's gentle tone sharpened, eyes wide.
“Stake your life on that slim chance! We've always done so!”
Her fury echoed.
The envoy felt his heart crumble.
He wanted to accept.
But—even with full authority, beyond his power.
“……May I report to His Majesty?”
Lydia nodded.
“Granted.”
The envoy slunk out, shoulders slumped.
Lydia sighed, hoping they'd accept before more deaths.
As queen, she couldn't send knights gratis.
“No time for this.”
Lydia summoned Sisilia immediately.
“Sisilia. Full authority to you—head to empire now...”
She paused.
“What's with the mask?”
“Sorry, Your Majesty.”
Sisilia coughed delicately, gazing pitifully up.
“Seems I caught Type A flu—can't do missions. Send Eddie instead...”
“……Don't know Type A flu, but I get the cure.”
Lydia's lips twitched after ages.
“Sir Erterion.”
“Yes.”
“Fetch Chiron.”
“Right away.”
Sisilia flung off the mask, clutching Lydia's hem.
“I-I'll go!”