Chapter: 275
As Ivan delved into the fifth military camp, his sense of smell detected an unusual odor. It was the faint trace of a scent that his nerves, pushed to the extreme since entering the Demon Realm, barely sensed.
Ivan brought his axe down, shattering the struggling orc’s skull. The orc, three times the size of the others, crumbled without even a scream.
He slowly lifted his head. The smell was an unbearable stench. While it wasn’t surprising for demons to possess such filth, this odor was different.
It wasn’t a scent from demons or beasts. It was the body odor emanating from human sweat. The kind unique to humans who hadn’t rested in a long time.
It was the distinctive smell exuded by humans under stress, tension, and extreme situations.
“Who goes there?”
Ivan straightened up from his hunched position in the ruined camp. From the opposite direction, the western thicket rustled, hinting at an approaching presence.
He placed a hand on his pistol and took a moment to breathe. In the spot his gaze fell upon, a figure staggered to its feet.
“…”
Ivan paused for a moment as he recognized the individual.
A frail, almost emaciated figure. Standing at 178cm, most of the armor was shattered, with only a shoulder pad and insignia left in shabby condition.
His unkempt hair and scruffy beard obscured his face. If encountered in Frechenkaya, he would have been mistaken for a beggar from the slums.
However, Ivan silently offered a military salute. After a brief moment of silence, the man reciprocated the salute.
Only then did Ivan speak.
“You are alive….”
“Just like you.”
The old man’s eyes glimmered beneath deep wrinkles. His gaze was sharp, like a finely honed longsword. One could only wonder how long he had wandered here, but there was a sense of endurance that remained unbroken even in the face of hunger, cold, and the fear of survival.
“Duke Volonovin.”
“Ivan Petrovich, Colonel.”
The two exchanged a solemn nod once more.
Beyond the Grand Gate of the northern front, he was the one responsible for removing threats from the Demon Realm, managing the population, and running colonial administration.
A noble with the most extensive territory in the nation, yet a soldier without even a single parcel of land within the country’s borders, a war hero loyal to the nation long before he even opened his eyes in this land.
The reason the Empire could expand its territory threefold.
‘The Hangman Duke,’ Mikhail Arturovich Volonovin. A more familiar name would be ‘The Sword of Conquest,’ the Reaper of the North…
He was someone whom Ivan believed had perished the moment he lost control of the northern demon realm.
And for such an individual to appear in this state before him meant that…
“What remains of your forces?”
It indicated that at least some combat troops were still intact.
He was definitely not the type to throw himself into the demon camps for a hopeless suicide. He was someone who would keep fighting until death.
Unless he had lost his achievements while preparing to raid the demon encampment, Ivan turned his head toward the thicket. The stench wafting from Duke Volonovin was coming thicker from deeper within the forest.
The Duke replied calmly.
“Seven thousand.”
“That’s… more than expected.”
“Is it really?”
The Duke chuckled bitterly. It was a significant number indeed. Leaving behind an armed force of seven thousand, completely isolated in enemy territory without a supply line or rear support, was nothing short of a miracle.
However, considering the cost of that miracle, it might be seen as proof of his incompetence rather than his abilities.
“Most of the subjects in Krasilov from the colonial realm were killed in the first assault. With nothing left to protect as a soldier, the operations became simpler. If it’s just for survival, they could live longer.”
“It doesn’t seem that way.”
“True. I didn’t live just to survive.”
He smiled with a gaunt face. It was a smile that reeked of blood.
“Your oath said, didn’t it? ‘Do not grieve for those who have left first,’ correct?”
The Duke said this as he waved his hand. Soon, men hidden among the thickets and branches began to emerge one by one.
The men with the appearance of defeated soldiers gradually revealed themselves. They were thin, shabby, and all bore wounds, with very few possessing intact equipment.
Yet, each carried a fierceness more potent than any strong soldier.
“Our oath, while establishing our military presence and colonial administration in this land, was different from yours, Colonel Petrovich.”
The Duke took a deep breath, turning to face what lay behind him. Then, a voice emerged from a man well past his seventies, more powerful than one would expect.
“Only—!! Death—!!”
Only death—!!
The forest trembled. The defeated soldiers waiting for the Duke’s command began to scream. Their voices, unwavering against the harsh northern winds, cried out, even in hunger and thirst.
“Only death will be—!!”
It shall become our final duty!!
The echoes continued for some time. The Duke coughed dryly before turning around. He was smiling. A smile unbroken in the face of the fear of death and the struggle for survival.
A twisted, distorted smile. As if someone who had never smiled in their life was forcing their lips upward.
The Duke and his warriors laughed like those who could express their anger in no other way.
“Did you see it, Colonel Petrovich? The First Legion is still alive, will continue to live, and as long as they are alive, they will not stop.”
“Yuri.”
Ivan briefly called out behind him. His companions were hurriedly approaching after hearing that colossal shout.
Upon hearing his voice, Yuri quickly rushed towards Ivan.
“Is this what you call a chance of victory?”
“I-I can’t say for sure…”
Yuri hesitated while looking at the Duke, then nodded slightly after a moment.
“The next path leads south.”
This meant that the wandering in the Demon Realm was now pointless. Hearing this, Ivan laughed softly.
Yes, that’s right.
He felt a newfound vigor coursing through his overtaxed nerves. His neural pathways were ablaze with excitement, making him forget his fatigue.
“Not merely dismantling the follow-up legion of demons descending from the north…”
Was the very process of restoring Duke Volonovin and the isolated First Legion itself the ‘condition for victory’?
It carried meaning beyond simply gaining reinforcements. It signified more than just securing precious time ahead of a dire situation.
It was a matter of the direction of victory.
‘Krasilov will not perish…!’
If the direction pointing to Yuri’s ‘conditions for victory’ was solely focused on disrupting the demons’ rear, he would have already moved presuming Krasilov’s downfall.
This meant he wouldn’t need to act directly to assassinate the Seven Dragon Lords, given the already overwhelming forces descending.
In such a scenario, Krasilov would have crumbled as a breakwater. An epic hero withstanding the storm of demon troops, the Seven Dragon Lords, and the Demon King.
And Ivan would have been left to witness that noble yet futile end from a pile of ruins. He could easily imagine it. The sight of Elizaveta collapsed beneath the fallen pillars of Frechenkaya….
But not anymore.
If Krasilov was destined to perish, there would be no need to rally the northern First Legion and move south. Seven thousand may indeed be a powerful force, but it wasn’t significant enough to influence a major war.
This scale of troops could only be deemed a ‘condition for victory’ when this war ended at the level of a nation’s localized conflict.
It could likely be a delusion. Perhaps a misjudgment or conjecture. A trivial fantasy struggling to find hope in a pitiful tragedy. Yet.
Yet, would he give up? Would he lament that everything was meaningless, spiraled in self-pity?
No. His long training was not for yielding and regret, but for the will to advance even while immersed in the despair of death.
It was not for excuses that he did his best but rather for the mindset that allows one to do their best, even in the possibility of failure. Though it may seem like mere wordplay, that wordplay could very well be the entirety of the world’s truths.
Therefore, Ivan walked towards the Duke.
“There will be no time to collect the stragglers. While the time you have sent so far has surely been painful, the upcoming fights will be no less so.”
“Bold of you, Colonel. If you’re trying to covet command with such threats, you should wake up from your dream. I have no intention of granting it until our blessed marriage with his Majesty.”
“…Are you all ready? If you need time, say so now.”
“What we have been doing up until now has been nothing but preparation.”
The Duke laughed sharply. The reflection of Ivan’s face in his eyes bore the same expression.
“Oh, right, Colonel. I almost forgot to ask. There was a procedure to follow when encountering allies in enemy territory, you see.”
Duke Volonovin said this with a teasing tone.
“Where does your loyalty lie?”
“To my homeland and the greatest ruler upon this land.”
“Welcome to the ranks, Colonel. You are now officially assigned to the First Legion.”
Ivan grasped the Duke’s extended hand. Even beneath the bony dry grip, he could feel undeniable strength.
“Your Majesty, an envoy… the envoy has arrived.”
“…An envoy? From whom?”
Elizaveta asked with tired eyes at the voice outside the barracks. They hesitated to respond.
It was a strange occurrence. Only one man in this land had the right to not answer her question.
This meant that something unusual had transpired. Elizaveta bitterly smiled as she walked out of the barracks.
Under the pale sun hanging in the sky, her soldiers had surrounded someone in a tight circle. Spearheads and gun barrels were raised towards the outskirts of the camp.
As she appeared, the guards quickly stepped aside. The throng parted for her like reeds blown apart by the wind.
She walked straight to the open area at the edge of the camp, narrowing her brow as she walked through.
Five goblins were unsteadily watching her.
“Goblins?”
“They are envoys from the Seven Dragon Lords, Your Majesty. They were requesting an audience in an unarmed state.”
“Demons sending an envoy. Has such a thing ever happened?”
“There are no records of it, Your Majesty.”
Listening to Dmitri’s words, who had started to accompany her, Elizaveta walked up to the goblins. The goblins merely smiled at her, showing no signs of bowing.
The atmosphere in the camp suddenly became tense. There was an overwhelming urge to crush the necks of those demons and mash their flesh.
Despite their terror, the goblins did not lose their smiles. Seeing this, Elizaveta stopped and nodded her head.
“Speak. What does your leader convey?”
“Hehe, oh human king. We, we are not well-versed in etiquette, so we shall relay our lord’s words as they are.”
One goblin, who was grinning maliciously, stepped forward. Clang, clang. The soldiers simultaneously aimed their weapons at it. Even under that threat, the goblin lifted its chin and shouted.
“If you surrender that girl, we can spare half your kingdom.”
“How dare—!!”
The guards raised their spears in unison. With the momentum suggesting they might attack at any moment, Elizaveta raised her hand.
At the same time, the spearhead that had almost reached the goblin’s throat halted. Drops of blood trickled down the spear.
Looking down at the terrified goblin, Elizaveta spoke softly.
“To send an envoy means you wish to respect human culture. I understand your leader’s intentions.”
“Y-yes?”
“You no longer see us as prey.”
Elizaveta turned to her soldiers, surveying them. They bore faces filled with defeat from the recent battle at the Grand Gate, the long retreat, and the loss of every city in between.
Her voice resonated towards them.
“Look. They fear us. Even a people once called gods request to ‘talk’ following our culture. Is there a predator who converses with its prey? Is there an executioner who speaks with their condemned prisoner! An envoy! Their god requests peace on the same level as us!”
“Y-you human!!”
Interrupting the goblin, Elizaveta continued her outcry.
“There are no gods in this land anymore! Have your gods forsaken us? No, that is not true! They have acknowledged we are no longer children in need of protection! They have deemed those ‘false gods’ remaining in this land as not a threat to us any longer! Oh, my greatest men, look! Are the gods not begging for dialogue from us now!”
Krasilov! Krasilov! Krasilov!!
The soldiers shouted in unison. The thunderous cheers filled their pupils, making the goblins flinch.
One goblin screamed amidst the chaos.
“Is-is the answer a refusal, you, human!!”
“You wanted her head, didn’t you!!”
Elizaveta turned to look down at the goblin. The one whose gaze met hers turned pale with fear and staggered back.
“If that is what you want, come and take it!! Convey that to your false god!!”
The gates of the camp swung open wide again. As the goblins staggered backward, not a single soldier attacked them directly.
No harm should come to envoys between states. This was the principle of the United Kingdom. The moment they began distinguishing other humans as not just ‘humans’ but as ‘humans of Krasilov,’ the soldiers needed to adhere to the same principle with the demons as well.
They were not some inescapable disaster or calamity. Just an ‘enemy nation.’ That had been proven, and would continue to be proven.
And, this was not the gravest threat Krasilov had faced, nor would it waver as it had throughout its long history.
Elizaveta could walk back to the camp with a lighter step than before.
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