Wave! Evacuate!! Into the City Walls!!!

* Thud thud thud thud thud—thud thud thud thud thud thud smack. Hero and Champ were racing all over the house nonstop.

I'd somehow dragged these guys inside after they kept biting at me relentlessly, gave them a thorough bath, and let them have the last small room. While I was at it, I washed off my own body too, since it was covered in their drool.

Was it the comfy bed, the warm room, and the tasty food that put them in such a good mood? They were bouncing this way and that, screaming "I'm so hyped!" with their whole bodies.

"Ugh, you're driving me nuts. How the hell do you even climb walls like that?"

And it wasn't just jumping on the floor. Like they had built-in 3D maneuver gear, they were zipping around in full 3D, scaling walls and ceilings.

"This is the butler life I chose. Just grit my teeth and endure..."

I tried everything to calm them down, but if I got in their way, they'd seriously chomp me.

"Gasp..."

Sora's kind words of comfort. I could feel the emotions coming through the chat window getting richer and richer.

Maybe because I'd worked so hard, my whole body was aching all over. I logged into the gallery to loosen up.

"? Yes, please."

This was the first time Sora had personally told me to check a post. How hilariously good did it have to be for her to recommend it herself?

With my heart pounding, I focused on the gallery screen.

"...A Wave?"

The post I'd checked excitedly expecting some prime entertainment. Instead, it showed people fleeing from an undead horde, raging and despairing, cursing the world.

"At least they're not slacking on prep. Just caught 'em off guard since it hit sooner than expected."

I figured maybe they could use my help. Good chance to win over the dragons too, and help folks out, so I made an announcement.

A thick, fertile manure scent wafted through the Krantz Empire's imperial palace. Retired Emperor Valerian Drachenkrantz was staring at the gallery.

The great emperor who rebuilt the crumbling empire. He'd abdicated to his successor Ethelricus due to health issues, but he still oversaw military matters personally.

The Moderator's Wave notice. Even with the gallery's real-time info exchange, posts piled up too fast to use effectively—this was very welcome news.

"He says to leave comments for what we need. What do you all think?"

Valerian asked his ministers without taking his eyes off the comments.

"Forgive my impertinence, but with food shortages eased by the gallery shop, the empire now needs only strong military power. Though the outer god's forces are mightier than before, seeking military aid from outsiders is improper."

"Indeed, Retired Emperor. Per the Hero's periodic reports and Lady Red Dragon's advice, we haven't slacked on prep. With all forces mobilized, we can repel the Wave."

Two of the world's five pillars. Recently, the Red Dragon and Hero had observed unusual corruption surges and advised the empire to prepare.

He nodded at their answers.

"Yes. 'Do your best, but this faster Wave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is inevitable—prepare accordingly.' How are the soldiers' preparations?"

"I report: Weapons are fully functional, warhorses well-fed and rested. Thanks to gallery baguettes, soldiers are stronger than ever—peak condition."

Valerian smiled warmly at his loyal retainers' report and praised their efforts.

"It's thanks to fine men like you that this empire endures. The people will rejoice at your tireless dedication."

"We are deeply grateful, Retired Emperor!"

The great empire, humanity's unyielding hope. Dimmed by catastrophe yet still radiant, it had one grave issue.

"Right. Now, from loyal servants' reports to the ungrateful wretches who defy the empire despite belonging to it."

All ministers in the audience chamber held their breath.

Ungrateful wretches defying the empire. No one needed explanation—they meant the eastern nobles.

Blood Emperor Valerian. His moniker from ousting a pre-cataclysm tyrant lingered fiercely in continental memory after half a century.

Aware of it, he'd always strived for a gentle image. So when he uttered "ungrateful wretches," it was a declaration of fitting punishment for ignoring the summons.

Amid trembling ministers, his old friend and in-law Duke Adrian replied.

"Well said, Retired Emperor. But our mobilizable forces are limited. Post-Wave, troops will be exhausted for eastern campaign; ignoring Wave for east is dereliction. I agree with you, but we must build more strength first."

His conclusion from endless intel and talks, reported concisely.

Valerian chuckled "Hoho," as if expecting it, and offered a solution.

"Of course I know. But Duke, did you see our crown princess... our dear granddaughter's gallery comment recently?"

"Comment... Your Majesty?"

At the out-of-left-field remark, the duke raised his head. Ministers' faces would've sprouted question marks.

"Yes, the comment. That vile remark to our precious granddaughter: 'Nothing accomplished but good anyway' or whatever—disgusting. I want to punish those eastern pigs who wrote it. No, I will."

Ministers sighed, heads now with exclamation marks.

Insult to him? He ignored it. Rebellion against the crown? He endured unless it meant needless harm to suffering people.

But insulting his beloved granddaughter? That reversed the Blood Emperor's scales.

'It's done! Blood winds will ravage the east...!'

Realizing the die cast, they awaited orders.

"You all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠understand. Assembled forces march east. I'd go too, but Wave first. Till Hero slays the undead lord, I'll hold it alone. Assign two decent knights. Eastern expedition commander: Duke Adrian von Dornenvald—you. Give all to slay the crown-defying eastern pigs. Understood?"

"We obey, Retired Emperor!"

The eastern nobles' persistent defiance. Their death sentence? Insulting his precious granddaughter.