TWO MISGIVINGS

Gadora was at an impasse—about two things, mainly. One, it went without saying, was about who might have been trying to murder him.

If the assailant didn’t even alert me to their presence, that lowers the range of possibilities greatly. I have my thoughts on their identity…but…

But Gadora admitted to himself, he was too afraid to state the name. Because if his forebodings turned out to be true, it meant all his sinister designs—and those of Yuuki and his gang as well—had been playing into Emperor Ludora’s hands the whole time.

…No, it may just be possible. The emperor has lived far, far longer than I have. He commands knowledge beyond any average person’s perception, and he has the power to match. It wouldn’t be strange at all if he saw how events would transpire and made his move decades in advance. But if so…

Gadora was far away from the Empire. But if his suspicions were true, he thought, then Yuuki was in danger. So now what? Should he warn him or just let him be? That was the problem. Yuuki was hardly a stranger; he had a decent enough affinity for the man. Despite that, Gadora was firmly on the side of Rimuru’s forces at present. He couldn’t rock the boat right this moment.

If he was truly concerned, he could have revealed everything to Rimuru and sought his advice. But if he disclosed all this uncertain intelligence and turned out to be wrong, it’d send Rimuru’s trust in Gadora plummeting. Gadora had already betrayed the Empire once; any further loss of confidence would affect his very position in life.

The pluses and minuses to all his options left Gadora frozen in place, unable to take action. And that wasn’t all. The second doubt in his mind made all his thoughts frazzled, flying in every direction.

That face, that ambition… It is absolutely the same as what Emperor Ludora exhibited. But even the sight of me didn’t seem to faze him at all. He truly appears to know nothing…and I doubt he is a fake, but…

There was no way Ludora could be there. No matter which angle you debated it from, Gadora concluded there was no other answer…which meant that person was just someone who resembled Ludora.

But if that person was His Highness… No, that’s silly talk. Let’s think about who stabbed me. I have to conclude that I know the murderer, but if my hunch is right, that kid Yuuki is in trouble. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep at night unless I at least give him a warning. And let’s inform Sir Rimuru as well.

In the end, Gadora gave his friendship first priority. It might damage his reputation, but that was fine. In this nation, after all, might truly did make right—and in Gadora’s eyes, survival of the fittest was exactly what he hoped for.

Finally reaching this conclusion, Gadora quickly sprang into action.

“Yuuki, it’s me. I’d like to give you some advice. To tell the truth—”

Before even asking what Yuuki was doing, Gadora laid out his main points in a single onrush.

“Whoa, um, this is sudden.”

“I am afraid it has to be. Think about my position, won’t you? Sir Rimuru might start to foster doubts about me thanks to this, so I don’t have time to debate the finer points with you. I’ll do what I can over here, so just keep an eye out for any nighttime assassins, all right?”

With that, Gadora ended his magical call with Yuuki. Then in the same motion, he walked off to report to Rimuru. In a well-oiled business, he recognized how important it was to stay in touch, report what you know, and be open to discussion. He was an expert at raising the apprentices and other people under him, and he didn’t scrimp on those tenets.

“So the old man’s okay after all, huh? And I guess he’s made himself at home over at Rimuru’s place, even.”

Yuuki mulled this over with a grin, his gaze toward the window. The imperial capital was facing a long rainstorm, all but blocking his view outside—but even through the rain, his eyes detected a suspicious figure. Based on the person’s well-trained movements, it was clearly someone directed to surveil him. The realization made Yuuki smile expectantly, and he stayed where he was. Kagali, the other person in the room, spoke up first.

“Do you mean Gadora? Well, I’m sure he did. Even a former demon lord like me has always found him a wily sort—the kind you’d best never turn your back on. That’s why our relationship was so fruitful for us.”

Yuuki nodded. “It was. I gained my position in this nation thanks to him. And just now he gave me some of the most valuable information I could ask for.”

Gadora, he was sure, wouldn’t hesitate to give him useful intel on Tempest. For example, intel on Chronoa, that sort-of Hero. Her fate was still unknown, but if Rimuru was alive, he must have defeated her. Still, if Rimuru had actually contained all her wild violence, there’d have to be rumors about it by now—but Yuuki had heard nothing.

Gadora didn’t mention her, either, so Yuuki couldn’t discount the possibility that Chronoa was dead. Maybe he was worrying too much about it. He decided to move on. He needed to work out the issues Gadora brought up in his emergency report.

“Oh, did he? And what did he have to say?”

“So apparently Masayuki is the spitting image of Emperor Ludora.”

“Huh?”

Yuuki grinned at Kagali, who was too flummoxed to say anything else. If someone told him that out of the blue, he’d probably react the same way.

“Right? It makes no sense. I thought that wizard finally lost his marbles, but it doesn’t seem like he’s joking. I really don’t think the emperor transformed into Masayuki or whatever, though… I can’t be a hundred percent sure of that, but…”

Yuuki recalled his encounters with Masayuki. His smile dissolved. Looking back, Masayuki hadn’t been summoned to this world. As he put it, “I turned around, and next thing I knew, I was here.” He was a visitor, someone who came to this world out of sheer happenstance, or so he thought. But…

But I can’t fully prove that Masayuki’s an otherworlder. I mean, he used magic and skills to—

He stopped himself before his mind went any further down this path.

“…Actually, let’s save Masayuki for later. Right now we need to talk about the guys watching us.”

“Oh? You were piquing my interest just then. But you’re right. It’s a bit stifling, being observed like this all the time.”

“Right? It’ll hinder our plans, and before that, I think we’re gonna have to dispose of all our preparations anyway.”

“What was that?”

“You heard me. If the old man’s telling the truth, it’s safe to say we’re in serious danger.”

If Gadora wasn’t lying, moving the Composite Division currently deployed for the Dwarven Kingdom was a bad decision. Yuuki had no idea what would happen—but even before that, he needed to step back and figure out who was friend or foe. It was a complete restart, and that’s exactly how cornered Yuuki and his cohorts were.

“…Ah. Then yes, now’s no time to be talking about that Masayuki boy.”

Kagali never doubted Yuuki’s words. If Yuuki saw danger ahead, there was never any refuting that.

“He told me he sought an audience with the emperor, only to have someone stab him in the back.”

“Someone? Not Kondo?” Kagali paused, then dismissed the idea. “No. I assumed that nobody besides Kondo could kill Gadora, but I could picture some hidden talent among the more undercover Single Digits.”

Besides, Tatsuya Kondo as the culprit was all too expected. Yuuki wouldn’t be demonstrating so much surprise if it were him.

“I agree with you on that, yeah. But I’m surprised for another reason. Gadora said he thinks he knows who stabbed him.”

The room fell silent. Kagali took a breath and peered into Yuuki’s eyes.

“…Someone both of us know well, you’re saying?”

Her eyes told him the story. They said Tell her, or else. Yuuki gave this a half smile and a light nod.

“Believe it or not, yes. Of course, Gadora could always be mistaken, but I really don’t think there’s a way to mistake this.”

Kagali’s eyes widened. “So it’s someone in our circle?”

Her smile had vanished.

“Yes,” Yuuki replied, nodding. His smile, meanwhile, only grew wider. “Our double-crosser is—”

CHAPTER 1

UNREST AND RESOLVE

A month had passed since my cabinet meeting. Today I was once again back in my Control Center, keeping up on my imperial observations.

With all our intelligence being gathered here, Benimaru and I were basically living in this place. We still went back home at night, though. For all I knew, if I left the Control Center unoccupied, Veldora and Ramiris might turn it into their secret hideout. I built that retreat for myself, and I wanted it to be used. Benimaru was keeping up appearances, too, so I imagined he was resting in his quarters as well—not that I needed to worry about that sort of thing, I just didn’t want my top commander collapsing from exhaustion before the final battle.

We had staff assigned to the Control Center at all times by this point—three shifts running the complex twenty-four hours a day during wartime. I wanted to be sure nobody was overworked. Managing our health, at least, was something I wanted to be thorough with.

Of course, my comrade Veldora was not a concern of mine on that front, and neither was Ramiris. Both of them got ample rest without me having to remind them—or really, they went out and screwed around all the time. They were excited about the war at first, but after a month of no movement, they seemed utterly bored with it. They were selfishly back in their own research lab now, telling me to inform them if something happened. Ah well. They’d just get in the way of things regardless, so I let ’em do what they wanted.

Right now, the top brass in the Control Center was Benimaru, Soei, and me, along with my secretaries Shion and Diablo. Geld was there, too; I shouldn’t forget about him. I felt bad about halting his construction projects for so long. I really wanted to get this war over with fast, before Frey started getting really mad.

But that, of course, depended on my opponents. In war, the attacking side held the initiative; if the opponent never showed up, you couldn’t fight even if you wanted to. The Empire’s tank battalion, which I assumed would enter the scene in around twenty days, was moving far slower than expected. In fact, they seemed to be crawling along on purpose, trying to show off their might as they advanced. My Argos magic system kept a watchful eye on them day and night, but if you’d never seen a tank before, I’m sure they looked like terrifying creatures. Even a real monster was still gonna be afraid of giant, horrible opponents, and the magic beasts ranked A or below in the forest had already fled far away from the advancing imperial force.

So where were they? Well past their borders, that’s for sure. Entering our nation without permission was fully against international law, as enacted by the Council of the West, but the Empire never did play by the rules. With things as they were, the question was how we could strategically take advantage of this. We could use it as a cover to stage a surprise attack…but we really did need to try talking at least once, I thought. There would be an order from the Empire to surrender, I understood, so until we could reply, I wanted to hold off on any attack.

“I know it’s too slow of us, but we haven’t finished our own preparations yet. I see no need to attempt to deceive them. We will decide everything in the first battle regardless.”

Benimaru agreed with me, not looking particularly concerned. So a bit relieved, I watched over our continued preparations for the anti-Empire war.

Finally, all those days of waiting were about to come to a close. The Empire had stopped advancing and begun to assemble into formation. They were no fools—they had zero intention of fighting fair and square from the beginning, it would seem, so apart from the tanks, they had brought platoons of infantry into the forest as well. Vast numbers, in fact. Their total number had exceeded seven hundred thousand, around 70 percent of the Empire’s entire force. We had known about this for days now, but it was worth going over again.

“Guess it’s safe to assume this is the main force,” I said.

“I imagine so,” Benimaru agreed. “It appears they intend to trap the dwarven army, and their tanks are acting as decoys.”

“So they’re trying to avoid being pincered in as they advance into our territory. They’re being remarkably careful, considering the size of this force.”

The tank battalions seemed slow not because it was a show of force or whatever. They had a more important goal in mind—to attract our attention until they could get their main force of foot soldiers in position.

“Not that we didn’t see through their schemes, of course. Having control over information puts us at quite the advantage,” Benimaru said with a smirk.

“Keh-heh-heh-heh-heh… Well played, Sir Rimuru. Dancing on your palm the whole time, were they not?”

Diablo, wasting no opportunity to praise me, also interjected. I was used to it by now, so I gave him a nod and a “Yep” for his effort. Figure out how Diablo’s mind works, and he’s actually really easy to handle.

“Regarding the imperial infantry, I think we slightly underestimated the threat they pose. Each one of the soldiers seems decently powerful enough, and we’ve seen nobody defect from their ranks. They are assembling at a site about nineteen miles away from Rimuru, the capital. That’s where they are building a command headquarters and establishing their position.”

Soei, attracting the attention of everyone else in the room, went into further detail. Moss, it turned out, had given him some valuable intel as well, intel that proved accurate beyond complaint. It was a nice complement to our Argos, and it gave us a picture-perfect map of the enemy’s location.

“If they’re this close to our throats, wouldn’t it seem unnatural if we didn’t react?” I asked.

“No, I wouldn’t be so sure. They see themselves as the superior force here, and what’s more, they are trying to keep their actions covert. Presumably, they’re preparing to demand our surrender, then spring right into action.”

“Keh-heh-heh-heh-heh… I agree with Sir Benimaru. If I could add to his counsel: Nineteen miles is almost the perfect distance for the imperial army. Magic-based observation loses its accuracy at long range. They are safe from any legion magic that might hinder all their forces at once. That, they believe, is how they are operating. It is hilarious to witness, but that is the best they are capable of.”

Apparently my concerns were for nothing. I thought the Empire would suspect our lack of activity to be a trap, but here I was being told that the enemy absolutely believed we weren’t on to them. The only remaining concern was the strength of this enemy infantry.

“So, Soei, how strong are these foot soldiers?”

Soei brought up their threat level, so they had to pack a punch. Depending on his response, I figured we might have to rework our plans.

“If I could give a broad evaluation using the traditional human-ranking system, they rank the equivalent of a B. There are many advanced troops who rank over A among them, and even the lesser troops wouldn’t rank below C-plus. Even compared to the knight corps of the Western Nations, I would call them quite a superior force.”

Yes, that was more power than I expected. But in this world, wars were all quality over quantity. A bunch of B rankers was nothing to trifle with, but a single A rank would be far more dangerous.

…Of course, I didn’t want to underestimate their abilities as a fighting force.

“So there are practically no emergency recruits among them? They’re all career soldiers?”

“Right. From their training to the quality of their gear and tactics, they appear to outclass the Western Nation’s knights. Even your Hellflare would have difficulty piercing their magical defense.”

The way Soei put it, the imperial army had legion magic cast over them at all times. They were a truly impressive force, trained to the hilt, and a platoon of them would be the equivalent of an A in rank.

A force who truly worked as a team, such as Gobta’s, could be a menace. It wasn’t just the sum of each member’s skill; it was more like exponential growth. If twenty or so of them deserved an A, simple arithmetic meant we had to fight against thirty-five thousand of these A-ranked threats. Frankly, we couldn’t let our guards down. They were a pretty dangerous foe.

“Ah, we’ll be fine. That’s what the Dungeon is for.”

“Keh-heh-heh-heh-heh… Force them to scatter inside the Dungeon, and it’ll be easy to destroy the enemy before they unleash their full force. Everything is just as you anticipated, Sir Rimuru.”

Not really, no. It just meant fending them off inside the Dungeon turned out to be the best strategy of all. But depending on the enemy’s war power…

Wait. Hang on. Something dawned on me: No matter how much power the enemy brought with them, this interception strategy was valid either way. Inside the Dungeon, it was possible to disperse their forces as we concentrated ours. That was why, if you really wanted to conquer the Dungeon, you had to do it with small teams of elites, or you had no chance. Raphael strikes again, I thought.

“You know, looking back, I’m really glad we have Ramiris here,” I couldn’t help but blurt out. Benimaru agreed with me.

“We’ll keep our city from being damaged, and it’ll be a breeze to maintain our advantage. As a military commander, she’s the last person I’d want as my enemy.”

He could give frank praise like this precisely because she wasn’t around to hear him. If he complimented her in person, she’d be sneering and bragging to him all day. Regardless:

“So it sounds like we’ve got no problems, but how is Gobta’s force doing?”

My magic was currently powering a set of large screens in the Control Center, displaying scenes from multiple points. One shot depicted the area near the Dwarven Kingdom. Two thousand tanks were there, all in neat formation. They, too, were located around nineteen miles away from the central entrance, the closest access to Dwargon’s capital—exactly where we predicted they’d be.

My main concern was the capabilities of these tanks. Their turrets were pointed straight at the large main gate, one I had visited many times by now. These so-called magitanks, or whatever, were supposed to be stronger than the tanks I was aware of from Earth. Perhaps those cannons had more range than those from my old world. I sincerely doubted their fire could actually reach the gate, but…

In the public square on the other side of the gate, Gobta’s and Gabil’s forces were on standby. Both were leading their respective troops, diligently performing their duties. There were no unexpected skirmishes along the way, and the residents of the inn town were already fully evacuated. Now, as planned, Gobta’s and Gabil’s soldiers had rendezvoused here to serve as Dwarven Kingdom reinforcements.

“The Dwarven Kingdom has accepted Gobta’s and Gabil’s forces. This will be a united front, so they have not given up their command,” said Benimaru.

I wasn’t worried about that, since Gazel already gave us his permission, but it looked like the dwarven army kept their promises.

“Sounds like there’s no problem, then.”

“I have my concerns about how well they’ll mesh with the dwarven force…but if the Tempestians attack, and the dwarves focus strictly on defense, I imagine things will turn out well.”

A military situation like this ran the risk of a jumbled, confused chain of command. Being a joint effort between armies of differing nations, they’d have to decide whose orders took first priority. If Benimaru was there, he could use his Born Leader unique skill to force his command on them all; even in a battlefield where allies and enemies were mixed among one another, with that they’d never have to worry about accidental friendly fire. With the dwarves on the scene, however, things could potentially end in chaos. Therefore, strictly dividing responsibilities between offense and defense would actually make things more efficient.

“Maybe I’d better talk things over with Gazel one more time, just in case.”

“Indeed, with the Empire deploying, there is little time left before the start of hostilities. It’s about time for us to deploy as well, so would you like to contact him to make your final confirmations?”

Benimaru seemed to agree with me. So without hesitation, I reached out for our newly installed contact terminal.

This contact terminal was a magical telepathic device that Vester had invented. The great thing about it was that it could convey not only voice but visual information as well. It was shaped like a desktop computer, complete with a monitor, mouse, and keyboard—well, not a mouse—more like a palm-size crystal ball. The terminal activated when you touched that ball. After that, just point out the person to contact among the figures etched into the keyboard, and you’d be connected to them.

We kept it to a simple design so anybody could use it, although it did have its flaws. I said it conveyed visual information, but these were more like thoughts reconstructed in your brain. In other words, when you were jacked into your contact terminal, anything you thought could be picked up by the other side.

This was the same fundamental concept as Thought Communication, and while I was used to it enough that I could shut out extraneous thoughts, newbies might wind up unintentionally leaking intel. Any wicked ideas you came up with could come through loud and clear to your partner… And forget about hiding any secret intentions. I definitely wouldn’t use this terminal to go cruising for dates. The average, untrained person was better off using the device’s audio functions only.

But hey, they’ll address that in version two.

“Hello? This is Rimuru. Is King Gazel there?”

I began with “Hello” in this world, too, as if that was the only logical option. It was too much of a habit to drop by now, so I didn’t hesitate. But thanks to that (much to my bemusement), it had already become established contact-terminal etiquette.

“Hello. I will call for His Highness. Would you mind waiting a few moments in the meantime?”

“All right.”

I could hear panicked activity on the other end. I’m sure they had someone trained in handling the terminal, but hearing my name must’ve unnerved the person on the other end a bit. If the CEO of my old company called my desk phone out of nowhere, I’d probably be freaking out, too. Maybe I should’ve been a little more considerate.

“How rude to keep Sir Rimuru himself waiting!”

Shion was fuming about it already. If that’s what you think, maybe I should’ve had you make the call, huh? Because I think that kinda falls under the job description of a secretary, doesn’t it? But Shion never touched the contact terminal, and the reason was simple: She didn’t know how to use it. Or maybe not that, exactly. I kept teaching her how it worked, but her thoughts were apparently too strong for the device to handle. Ever since she blew out one terminal, she’d been kinda reluctant to try again… So really, she had no right to complain.

“Personally, instead of relying on some gadget like this, I’d use Spatial Transport to meet the man himself. In fact, I could bring King Gazel here, but what do you think?”

Diablo was being his usual Diablo-ish bossy self, but I wasn’t too concerned. The king had his own business, no doubt, so it’d be more polite to set up an appointment first. It was my fault this time for calling him out of nowhere. It was natural that I’d have to wait a bit—and unreasonable to get angry at all about it.

“Well, if Sir Rimuru called for me without warning, it would be difficult not to panic. I sympathize with the dwarf over there.”

Hearing Geld say that, I silently wished some of that common sense would rub off on Shion and Diablo.

In not even three minutes, I heard from Gazel.

“Sorry for the wait. I was just thinking I should contact you before long.”

Gazel’s voice boomed from the speaker adjacent to the monitor. There was no image. Raphael was handling all the operations for me, so I could transmit whatever video I wanted—but Gazel was still getting a grip on this, so he was probably sticking to audio only. Smart choice.

“Ah, good. I just wanted to confirm with you one more time about the way we’ll divide up roles in our united force.”

“Mmm, yes. That is important, but before that, I need to inform you of something. The Eastern gate into Dwargon is being blockaded by the Empire’s force.”

Just as Gadora had warned. That was probably the force led by Yuuki.

“Yes, we have it on-screen here. I’ll send it to you.”

I pointed the Argos system toward imperial lands. It was a long distance, with a magical barrier in the way as well, so the image wasn’t exactly clear—but we could still see a crowd blocking the highway leading to the East gate.

“It’s just like you told us, isn’t it? When I heard about the enemy defector, I suspected it was a trap, but perhaps we can trust that man a little.”

“Oh, I don’t know yet. There’s no doubt that Gadora’s given up on the Empire, but I’m not sure I’d trust him right now. There’s every chance he’s being used without being aware of it, too. I’d keep a watchful eye on him.”

“Ha! Tell me how you really feel, then! I’m quite glad to hear that from you.”

Gazel flashed me a joyful smile. I guess he was testing to see if I was on my guard. He never stops playing the “old training partner” card with me.

“Now, Rimuru. The envoy I sent to the Empire is just being given the runaround by them, it seems. By our laws, Dwargon can launch the first attack only as a last resort. That’s a disadvantage for us, but we dwarves pride ourselves on it, and so we must wait for the Empire to act. You don’t need to join us in that credo, but what are your plans, exactly?”

Gazel’s smile rapidly dissolved, replaced with a look of concern.

How should I interpret his intentions here? I turned my eyes to Benimaru. He returned my gaze with an easy smile. We didn’t even need to exchange words, so tuned in we were to each other. I exhaled, straightened myself up, and turned back toward the monitor. Watching the totally blank screen, I tried to sound as formal as possible.

“The imperial forces have invaded our territory without warning or permission. We cannot shut our eyes to this, and we are considering strong measures in response, including military options. Along those lines, as part of our alliance, I wanted to confirm your compliance with these measures.”

That sort of thing.

Benimaru seemed satisfied with it. Shion happily nodded. Geld was virtually quaking with excitement, and Diablo was giddily taking down notes about something or other. I had no idea what he was writing or what he was going to do with those notes, but I was sure it was nothing good. Resolving to seize those from him afterward, I waited for Gazel’s response.

“Mmm! You’re starting to sound more like a king every day. Excellent. You invited them so deep into your territory because you intended to intercept them here from the start, didn’t you?”

“Of course. We could have fought them at the border, considering the potential damage to our town…but if we do that, they might try framing it as self-defense against a monster invasion or something later on. If they’re in our lands, that stops them from claiming that, and it instills a sense of danger in the Western Nations, too. We’ve already evacuated our citizens, and by this point, we’ve got just cause to strike.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I like your force of personality, but I have to take points off for revealing all that.”

Gazel laughed at me. He was the one who prodded me about it, and this was how he thanked me? But he wasn’t done yet.

“Be that as it may, I don’t want anything slogging us down. With our militaries in particular, we can’t afford to have any discord. So let me spell it out for you. I am going to leave our negotiations with the Empire to the Jura-Tempest Federation. If, after that, you decide open warfare is the option to take, then let the Armed Nation of Dwargon act on their alliance with Tempest and join the fray! And to avoid command-chain confusion during the war, we in Dwargon will focus strictly on defending our lands. Is that all right with you?”

Ooh. That was a clearer answer than I expected. I thought that since the Dwarven Kingdom had a position of absolute neutrality, they wouldn’t dare to interfere unless they were invading our territory. Benimaru and I had anticipated that as well, so I accepted the proposal without particular alarm.

“Thank you. I feel a lot better hearing that.”

“Don’t be silly. You must have expected this to happen from the beginning. It’s the safest tactic, to be sure, but if our alliance forces ever run into trouble, at least we’re justified to take action now. If you ever need us, feel free to tap our resources.”

Ah, how reliable of him. I had the backing of Dwargon, a nation undefeated for a millennium, and just having a place to run to in the event of defeat was enough to give me peace of mind in this fight.

“All right. We’ll send off our envoy as planned.”

“We will need to divide our forces between Central and the East in order to protect them. It’s in our own interests to keep our army on the defensive, too. And be careful. This new ‘tank’ weapon is a complete question mark on the battlefield. Even looking at the Empire’s equipment, something tells me that the age of the sword may be coming to an end. Forgive me for putting you in such a dangerous role.”

Gazel, perhaps out of concern, added that statement. No, I sure couldn’t tell him to rest easy. As he said, we didn’t know how these magic tanks performed. So I decided to give him a warning, even though I didn’t think it was necessary.

“Based on my own knowledge, I am aware of a weapon called a tank from my own world as well. They use controlled explosions of gunpowder to send metal shells flying through the air. It’s a simple principle, although the mechanism it runs on is a lot more complex—but with their power, range, and accuracy, it’s an incredible weapon, I think. If these Empire-made magitanks run on a similar setup, there’s a chance that current tactics can’t handle them.”

Gazel was right. The age of the sword would soon be over, and it was likely to bring about an even more violent battlefield.

What would happen if you used magic instead of gunpowder to send shells flying? I had Raphael simulate that for me, and the results were terrifying. It turned out that, depending on the spell invoked, you could create a magical artillery shell (a magishell?) that was overwhelmingly more powerful than what a tank, the epitome of modern Earthly science, could launch. And we’re talking a massive weapon, too…

“Are you telling me that magic defenses won’t work?”

“Exactly. You’d need a full Magic Barrier to fend it off. And given the power involved, you’d need to redouble your defense with things like trenches and earthen walls.”

“I knew it. I suppose all of us think the same way. We, too, have been working on a ‘magic-armor-soldier’ project to prepare us for the new era. They might’ve beaten us to the punch, but it’s not like we have any right to complain, eh? So can we beat them, or what?”

A tough question to answer. All I could give him was this:

“It’s not a matter of ‘can we’ or ‘can’t we,’ really. We’re just going to! That’s all I can tell you.”

The words seemed to satisfy Gazel just as much as my friends here.

“Heh… Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Well, ain’t that reassuring! Best of luck out there!”

“We’re on it!”

That’s how I ended my exchange with Gazel. As final confirmations went, I thought it was pretty good.

“That’s all the confirmation you need, right?”

“It will suffice. We have a pledge from him that we can do whatever we like.”

I nodded my agreement with Benimaru. The time had come. Now that we’d reached this point, we didn’t have to wait for the Empire to make a move. We were all ready to go here, so why not kick things off officially? Justice was on our side. The imperial forces had invaded deep into the Forest of Jura—that was demon lord territory, and there was no sugarcoating that.

Now we needed to negotiate things so we’d look like we were panicked and definitely not aware of every single thing they were up to. So who to order for it? Gobta and Gabil weren’t exactly proper diplomats, and more importantly, they weren’t very good negotiators. Especially Gabil… Looking back to our first encounter, I’m never gonna send him on any envoy work. So I decided to order Testarossa out. With her, at least, I knew she wouldn’t get killed if the Empire decided to shoot first and ask questions later.

Maybe it was all a farce, but we did need to offer a promise. I think it’s just fine to launch a preemptive attack without saying anything, but when you’re a demon lord, the way you act kind of matters. So I sent off a Thought Communication to make the order.

As Rimuru and Gazel were talking on their contact terminals, Gobta’s First Army Corps (with around twelve thousand soldiers) and Gabil’s Third Corps (around three thousand) had gathered together behind the grand gate into the Dwarven Kingdom, approximately fifteen thousand in all. They had not entered the cave itself but were camped in a large open square at the outer edge. The evacuation of everyone in the inn town was successfully completed, and now they were waiting for the Empire’s next move. No messenger had come from the Empire yet, no surrender order ferried to them, but everyone gathered here could sense that the war was about to begin.

The dwarven army was also hurriedly preparing for combat. The Royal Order of Dwarves consisted of seven divisions, and two of them—the Engineering Division and the Magic Support Division—were busily reinforcing the main gate and erecting a temporary barrier. An earthen wall, built up with earth magic, could have a fire spell applied to it to instantly make it stouter than a brick equivalent; enhance it even further, and you had a virtual barrier of iron.

Thus, in a very fluid process, a tri-layer defense wall was built outside the main gate—and as work continued on it, the Royal Order’s Heavy Strike Division sprang into action. The officers and soldiers were covered head to toe in magical gear, but despite that, they all nimbly lined up in formation. Some sort of event must have taken place…but Gobta and his army didn’t pay it much mind.

As the dwarves busied themselves, the First and Third Corps were all relaxing in their own ways. Gobta and Gabil were sitting on the ground, having a friendly meal together. Next to them, for some reason, there was a table setting, complete with an extravagant parasol. Sitting on its white chairs were Testarossa and Ultima, who appeared to be enjoying a little tea party.

They were being served by Veyron, looking every part like a staffer at a tropical resort. Despite his advanced age, his back was fully straight in an amazing, statuesque posture.

“Hey, y’know, this is really, really good! It feels so…manly, yeah? Great stuff!”

“Indeed, my goblin friend! I am just as satisfied. This delicate flavoring…and the more you chew, the more flavor seeps out of it. Truly a delight for the taste buds!”

Gobta and Gabil were offering high praise to a meal prepared by Zonda, Ultima’s underling. It was a whole roast on the bone, like a cartoon snack for a caveman, simply seasoned with salt and herbs. This wasn’t from the army’s pantry; whatever it was, Zonda had gone out and hunted it himself.

“As a chef, it is a tremendous honor to have two army generals offer me such praise. My specialty is court palace cuisine, so this kind of camp food is out of my expertise. Please forgive me if anything displeases you.”

With that, Zonda bowed gracefully and retreated to Ultima’s side. His double-breasted chef’s coat was a Shuna-crafted masterpiece, made from hellmoth silk and dyed the same shade of light purple as Zonda’s hair. It certainly made him stand out from the armor and military dress he was surrounded by. Even Testarossa and Ultima were sporting custom-made military uniforms; Testarossa was wearing pants, and Ultima opted for a skirt, but both were unmistakably army gear.

It was no surprise that Zonda stood out. He carried himself in an ever-so-sophisticated way, one that seemed unsuitable for the battlefield. He certainly brought a touch of class to this camp, and by now, he was indispensable. He had been teaching many of the soldiers the finer points of camp cuisine, winning their hearts and stomachs, and being Ultima’s direct underling gave him a lot of freedom. Ultima being rather a free spirit herself, she had a lot of authority as an adviser to corps leader Gabil, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. With her bold, proud demeanor, she had no problem overriding any and all complaints from the other demons. She was practically demonic royalty already, and only a small handful of people could dare offer a complaint to her.

“It’s not to my taste. You’re not offering enough dishes, either. I wish there was more variety.”

“I think you’ve got a point there. Going with these roasts and this basic hot pot—it’s just way too skimpy. You’ve come to know Shuna and Mr. Yoshida by now. Hone your skills and make yourself more useful to us!”

Unlike the effusive Gobta and Gabil, Testarossa and Ultima were not exactly fans.

“I’m deeply sorry,” Zonda meekly replied, before Gabil spoke up.

“No, no, Zonda, not at all! And I’m sure Ultima completely approves of your skill! The problem, I imagine, lies not in the taste.”

The sudden remark drew the attention of everyone around them. Testarossa looked intrigued, Ultima was peeved that someone was disagreeing with her, and Zonda was visibly shaken at the possibility that he just upset his boss. Veyron, meanwhile, was as unaffected as always.