Your War, My War (3)
The Behemoth stared ahead from within the flames. The borderlands of No Man's Land had become a scene straight out of hell manifested in the mortal realm. It bore no comparison to the landscape visible beyond the cliffs at the edge. Stones burned and melted away. The ground, liquefied by searing heat, spat sparks into the air. Every tree had long since been reduced to a handful of ash, and of course, not a single trace of living creatures remained.
The violet dome had collapsed in the explosion. Black smoke billowed into the sky. The earth had turned into a viscous mire. The Behemoth thought it difficult to take even a single step. Each time it planted its foot, the molten ground clung to its ankles. The blast had inflicted considerable wounds even on the Behemoth. Heat had pierced its stone-hard skin, ravaging both its exterior and interior. These were by no means minor injuries. Its original combat strength had likely been significantly weakened.
The wounds it had suffered in battle against humans fifteen years ago had resurfaced as well, tormenting the Behemoth once more. A great many monsters had perished. None had survived. Every last one of them had melted away alongside the stones at its feet, dissolved by that single explosion. Only the monsters now belatedly scaling the cliffs remained.
The Behemoth exhaled a low breath. Far too many of the monsters it had intended to entrust with troublesome tasks had died. Their numbers had certainly been enough to sweep away the humans, but with most of them gone, it could no longer be certain. Its instincts urged it to turn back and bide its time for another day. But the Behemoth rejected the warning of its instincts outright.
The arrogance and fury that had seized its mind had become a driving force powerful enough to override even a creature’s primal instincts. How dare they. How dare mere humans. Those same humans who, at the mere sound of its roar, would abandon their armies and flee in panic, cowering behind castle walls. There would be no more waiting. For years upon years, the Behemoth had waited long enough.
Crack.
The Behemoth lifted its foot. In a single day, this zone would solidify. Then it could advance. Being held back here had been unexpected, but it would simply kill anything that stood in its way. The Behemoth set its raised foot down. The ground sank further, pulling even harder at its ankle, as if trying to drag it down into the earth itself. Did the land of men seek to protect its people to the very end?
Had the Behemoth possessed a nose like a human’s, it would have snorted in derision. Ignoring the ground that clutched at its feet, it pressed forward. The soft, yielding earth had no effect on the Behemoth whatsoever. It was as though the ground itself rose and fell in time with the creature’s movements.
Thud. Thud.
Like the steady beat of war drums, the Behemoth’s steps maintained a constant rhythm. Its majestic bearing was so imposing that one could scarcely believe only a single being was walking forward. Reaching the edge of the melted city, the Behemoth looked up at the sky. The twilight that had settled after sunset was a deep violet.
The Behemoth let out a long, thunderous roar toward the heavens. The ground beneath its feet split apart, and the clouds in the sky trembled. At the king of all monsters’ call, the creatures obeyed and swarmed toward it. They piled bridges from their own corpses across the molten earth as they gathered at the Behemoth’s side.
Forward.
The monsters growled in sympathy with the Behemoth’s rage. Their fur stood on end, their eyes burned crimson, and sticky drool dripped from their maws. The moment the Behemoth took one more step forward, the monsters broke into a frenzied charge. Though it had lost tens of thousands, tens of thousands still remained. The monsters quickly blackened the narrow path ahead. Their advance was aimed directly at Murat.
Kill the humans.
The command engraved into the monsters’ minds activated with ferocious energy, driving their bodies forward.
Roughly three thousand soldiers, two hundred knights, and ten mages. A defensive battle to block the path in a mountain canyon rather than a proper siege. At least the terrain was on their side. There was no fortress, only mana barricades and trenches. In this battlefield, almost no sound could be heard except the clatter of weapons and armor.
How long had they been waiting? Even the merciless sunlight beating down on their helmets and the heat rising from the scorched ground had begun to fade, yet the soldiers remained silent, eyes fixed forward. Paola rested her favorite mace across her knees. A long spear was tucked under her arm, and a sword of suitable size for one-handed swings hung at her waist. She had summoned the old version of herself—the one who slaughtered enemies on the battlefield without discrimination, using any weapon at hand.
“You certainly brought quite an arsenal,” a voice remarked.
Paola turned toward the speaker. It was Christine. Paola shrugged.
“This is how I’ve always fought, Vice-Commander. I started as a common soldier, so I never had the luxury of being picky about weapons.”
Paola set down the spear she had been holding under her arm. Its shaft was a deep red with fine craftsmanship. Next came the mace, still crusted with dried blood. Then the sword at her waist. Christine tilted her head as she watched Paola lift each weapon in turn.
“Doesn’t having so many weapons get inconvenient?”
“It’s the only way I know how to fight. Unlike our Commander, who can cut down a hundred enemies with a single sword, that kind of heroic prowess is a story from a distant land for someone like me.”
Paola spoke with self-mockery.
“I get anxious if my hands are empty. In the end, a knight like me can only hide behind a pile of weapons.”
Despite her words, her hands moved with practiced, fluid grace as she handled the arms.
“Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say you’re skilled with many weapons?” Christine asked.
Paola shook her head.
“On a battlefield where human blood and flesh fly everywhere, it’s certainly an advantage. You can just snatch up whatever weapon you see and use it.”
Paola turned her gaze toward the horizon at the end of the path where the monsters would soon advance. The clouds hanging over the horizon carried an ominous, heavy hue. They were the dark storm clouds that rarely appeared in No Man's Land during summer.
“Monsters don’t have weapons you can steal. So you have no choice but to start with plenty of your own. It’s the lament of those who possess no weapon that stands out above the rest.”
Paola prodded the ground with her mace, then frowned. The grip didn’t feel right.
“Damn it. I should have swapped it out.”
She sighed and looked back up at Christine.
“Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen Maxim anywhere. Do you know where that fellow went?”
Christine’s expression darkened.
“...Did something happen?” Paola asked.
Christine shook her head.
“After discussing it with the Commander, we judged that he would not be helpful to our fighting strength and sent him back.”
Paola’s hand, which had been poking the ground, stopped.
“Was there a particular reason?”
“His physical condition wasn’t good. We determined he might even become a hindrance.”
At Christine’s answer, Paola tilted her head in genuine surprise.
“He actually listened? That Maxim went back quietly? He never listened to a word I said.”
Christine merely nodded without offering a clear reply. Paola regarded her with a suspicious gaze. Christine had expected Paola to burst into furious anger, but to her surprise, he simply organized his thoughts and nodded calmly.
“You did the right thing.”
“...You’re not angry?”
At Christine’s question, Paola let out a small chuckle, as if asking why he should be angry.
“I was a little worried about that guy acting alongside you on your orders, Vice-Commander. He fought incredibly well, but it always looked like he was forcing a sick body into battle. Regardless of whether he was actually ill or not, it distracted me so much that I couldn’t fight properly.”
Those bastards who are desperate to die.
Paola recalled the story he had told Maxim. He briefly wondered whether he should tell the same tale to Christine—this young woman who seemed to care for Maxim with terrifying intensity. Christine appeared to be forcing herself to appear strong.
“It’s fortunate that Maxim won’t die in this battle,” Paola said.
“I don’t know what happened to him, but among those who wear the same expression he does, I’ve already sent quite a few off first.”
Christine’s face grew somber. Paola made no clumsy attempt to comfort that expression. It was an emotion they would need in the battle to come.
“So, Vice-Commander, I won’t worry about Maxim anymore. We must focus solely on the battle ahead.”
Christine lifted her head and offered a changed expression.
“Yes. It would be more appropriate to worry about the others fighting the monsters rather than our senior.”
“Exactly,” Paola nodded. “Because it’s not Maxim who’s taking on this battle. It’s us.”
For the first time since sending Maxim away, Christine smiled faintly.
Ding.
The sound of a bell rang out. Christine and Paola lifted their heads at the same time. The single toll was followed, after a brief pause, by more. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Confusion spread rapidly. Soldiers began to run. The bell signaling the enemy’s approach sounded the same here. More than half of Murat’s soldiers were likely experiencing real combat for the first time. Though clearly tense, they gripped their weapons with sharp, disciplined movements.
“After this is over, I’m going to need a month’s leave,” Paola muttered as he watched the black tide of monsters swarm forward.
“A month might not be enough,” Christine replied to his murmur.
Thud.
Then, a being radiating a presence as vast as a mountain revealed itself behind the monsters. More than half of its obsidian-black skin had been scorched a vivid, burning red. The Behemoth halted its advance. As it stopped, the charging monsters froze in place. Its eyes could not be seen. Yet every person preparing for battle knew that it was arrogantly watching them, as if observing mere insects.
No one gave the order, but every knight and soldier standing to defend Murat raised their blades and spears.
“For the kingdom,” someone murmured in a thin voice.
The one who had uttered such a romantic phrase was a female knight from Murat who had never experienced real combat. The knights and soldiers of No Man's Land narrowed their eyes at the Murat knight who had spoken those words.
“Kingdom my ass. Let’s survive first. Who the hell fights for the kingdom?”
“Well, after trading blows with those monsters for just ten minutes, she won’t be able to say things like that anymore.”
“Weren’t we all full of that same romanticism the first time we fought?”
Realizing she had spoken too loudly, the Murat knight quickly lowered her visor.
“Well, that’s fine. For the kingdom,” Paola said to the knights of No Man's Land.
The knights stared at him in bewilderment.
“We never expected you to say such a thing, Sir…”
“Then what do we fight for?” Paola retorted playfully, gripping the spear in his left hand and the mace in his right.
“...How about revenge?” one knight suggested.
The expressions of the No Man's Land knights changed. At the word “revenge,” the morale of the knights and soldiers sharpened like blades. The shattered castle walls. The cities that had burned alongside the monsters and vanished. And the heads, legs, and arms of their comrades that those monsters had severed.
“Revenge…”
Paola raised the mace in his right hand in answer.
“That sounds much better than ‘for the kingdom.’”
Other knights and soldiers began to chime in one by one.
“Revenge sounds good.”
“Yeah, those bastards destroyed my home too.”
The knights shouted their individual battle cries.
“For revenge!”
“For the revenge of No Man's Land!”
Aura began to rise from the knights’ swords. Colorful auras wrapped around their blades, and a misty glow of light emanated from the aura. Sensing the aura’s power, the monsters burst into frenzied howls. They scraped at the ground, drooled profusely, and glared at the humans. It seemed as though only the single presence of the Behemoth was barely restraining the monsters, who looked ready to charge at any moment.
The Behemoth opened its maw wide. A pitch-black, bottomless cavity was revealed within. At the same time a war horn signaling the declaration of war sounded from beyond that cavity, the monsters were released from their chains. They surged toward Murat with the force of a crashing wave.