30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

Chapter 234

*

A few days ago, in a moment when time was reversed.

The guard at the northern border of Leonor headed towards the trade train line to make a plea-like recommendation for the fourth time this week.

Since it was deep in the forest without a single station, it took a while even on horseback. Still, because of the royal decree, he couldn’t handle it carelessly.

He drove his horse while looking at the shiny, gleaming tracks.

“Greetings—!!”

At the guard’s shout, the workers far away, who were pounding at the tracks, stood up. One of the group walked over with a heavy gait.

“Is your work nearing completion?”

“Oh, we still have a long way to go.”

The worker, who looked like he had never swung a hammer in his life, said with a smirk.

In the guard’s opinion, this person seemed better suited for a weapon than tools. Despite his sly face and soft smile, it was still the case.

He was a muscular giant, but not the kind with the oily bulk that workers usually had, but rather, he had a truly solid build.

His eyes were smiling, but inside, the gaze was devoid of any smiles. It was the eye of a professional killer, one that could chop a person like breathing.

Although they had faced each other for two months, the guard instinctively flinched every time he saw him. He mumbled hesitantly.

“No, how many months has it been already? The Majesty is asking why the work is progressing so slowly…”

“Did we mess it up?”

“No, still. Isn’t there such a thing as common sense? Because a little damage to the tracks caused a train to topple, we’ve been stuck here at the border for several months.”

This place was a trade route crossing the border between Krasilov and Leonor. Two months ago, during the train derailment accident, the Krasilov authorities issued a severe warning about management responsibility.

And as if out of benevolence, they announced they would repair it without charge. To be honest, considering those Krasilov folks, it was absolutely impossible… Nevertheless, the tracks were quickly repaired.

Honestly, it wasn’t that big of an accident, I heard. Even when he had just started his site inspection duties, the tracks were already intact. The train that had toppled had vanished without a trace.

Yet, those foreigners tear apart perfectly fine tracks day after day, re-embedding them, then tearing them up again. He couldn’t figure out what they wanted.

Perhaps they were staging a protest. Trying to gain something out of this opportunity. Regardless, those Krasilov folks.

The guard stepped back, grumbling without any gains.

* -Kugugugu….

Well, at least seeing the earth shake vigorously and the loud noise coming from it means they are indeed working.

When the booming noise, which had been echoing around Leonor, finally subsided.

The giant man, gazing at the workers repairing the tracks, smiled slyly.

“Let’s head back now, boys.”

“Yes, Sir Pavel.”

The massive earth-moving machine that had departed from Frechenkaya advanced through Leonor, crossing over the border to Bellacria, and finally arrived at the Ovidis plains.

At the two-month mark since their departure, Ovidis’s soil;

Elizaveta gazed at the sun shining through the noise and dust, raising her arm.

“Behold, my finest men.”

The most powerful legion this country takes pride in responded from beyond the darkened passageway. They exerted all their strength at the slightest gesture of her small hand.

A wind blew through the passageway leading to the ground, causing her hair to flow wildly. A military officer approached with a flag.

The lily and the bear.

The Krasilov seal embroidered in silver shimmered brightly in the sunlight. It was heavy enough, yet Elizaveta’s slender arm swung it straight ahead without a tremor, facing forward.

Far away, toward the lair of the monsters distorting colors under the sunlight.

“I hope only ruins and wastelands remain in my path.”

Following her gesture, the legion marched forward. A massive steel legion crossed before her.

To willingly carry out the wishes of the mightiest sovereign on this land.

They did not shout. There was no excitement before battle, nor responses from war trumpets or drums.

Only the sound of the heavy steel mechanisms of the crank turning, and countless footsteps of military boots moving in unison.

If you wish it, it will happen. It was so obvious that there was no reason to find an answer.

If you command it, it will be done. Even if commanded to march toward death, they would not utter the slightest groan of hesitation.

No one speaks of the new dawn as the sun rises and the moon sets. No one attributes special names or reasons to the obvious.

Thus, before Elizaveta’s wish, no one among the legion would respond with a willingness to carry it out. It would naturally come to be.

* -Kugung, Kugung, Kugung….

The harvesters of Krasilov stretch endlessly toward the ground. Before and after the Great War, a formidable firepower that this land has never seen again.

Following the wave of steel advancing ahead of her, Elizaveta slowly rode her horse.

*

“Krasilov is here—!!”

“Dwarves?! Has the demon race come to support?”

“No! They are with Krasilov’s flag! Have they subjugated them…?”

Since the earthquake ceased, the Bellacria military encampment was engulfed in chaos. Most of the warhorses had fled, making it difficult to control the troops besieging Ovidis.

Ivan headed straight for the command center of the camp.

“What in the world is happening?!”

“Bring me the horses.”

“Horses…?”

“If I don’t go, all you will be caught up in it.”

Ivan said, fixing his gaze beyond the collapsed barracks.

Amidst the vast mountains where dust still rises like fog, familiar silhouettes could be seen.

The flag of the 2nd Legion. The harvesters were unfolding. It was the legion that made all the civilized monarchs of this world fear the name of the late king and Krasilov before the Great War.

The reapers of the conqueror Ivan. The nickname of the Krasilov 2nd Legion was Harvesters. What they harvest are land and lives.

If those who have fully absorbed the dwarven war engineering were the artillery crews, what level of power would they demonstrate?

The outline of the fog they saw was too famous.

“There’s no time. The 2nd Legion is attempting to flatten the land right now.”

“Flatten the land?! This, this is Bellacria’s territory! How dare, how dare. This is, this is—.”

“Are you going to protest after you’re dead? I’ve never seen anyone succeed among those who attempted that.”

The 2nd Legion’s harvesters were finishing their preparations for the flattening of the land.

It was a strategy to evaporate the enormous area encompassing fortresses, dominions, and vast farmland. To wipe out an enemy that is difficult to deal with from long-range.

This was a warfare technique developed by Krasilov, which was short on superhumans. Superhumans could escape by reading the direction of the shelling, so this was to eradicate that.

It flattens the entire area to such an extent that superhumans cannot escape, using artillery fire of an unavoidable level.

Each firing can be understood as a point of impact. A typical coordinated bombardment is the process of connecting points with lines. Types that break the fog and city gates.

But Krasilov’s flattening of the land is different. Through precisely calculated artillery angles, it delivers coordinated fire through precise signals. Connecting points with lines, and lines into surfaces.

It flattens the realm of ‘fief’ units. What remains below the target point is only wilderness without people, buildings, or mountains.

“Hurry, hurry! Go see!!”

It didn’t take long for the astonished officer to bring two warhorses.

Ivan and Isabelle jumped onto the horses and dashed towards the camp flying the emblem of the Krasilov royal family.

*

As soon as they arrived at Krasilov’s camp, Ivan climbed the hill along the wide-open road. Many who knew his face allowed him to approach Elizaveta without any resistance.

She was sitting on a high foundation. Perched on a throne covered with black bear fur, she was elegantly crossing her legs and looking down at him.

Next to her stood dwarves clad in steel armor and lightly dressed men.

Surprisingly, Dmitri was also standing without a wheelchair.

A prosthetic leg? At a glance, it seemed flawless. Ivan knelt on one knee beneath the throne and thought.

“Vanka.”

A chilling voice rang above him. When Ivan looked up, the queen, facing away from the sun, spoke coldly.

“Reply.”

“Ivan Petrovich Yermov presents himself to the eternal sun of Krasilov.”

“Krasilov.”

“…Yes?”

A blunt voice was heard in response to Ivan’s question.

“Ivan Petrovich Krasilov.”

“Yes…?”

Ivan heard a sharp voice again.

“Ivan Petrovich, ‘Krasilov’.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Speak. Quickly.”

Ivan followed her words in a low voice. Only then did Elizaveta lightly gesture with a more relaxed tone.

“Come closer.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ivan stood and climbed onto the foundation. Approaching just two steps away from Elizaveta, he knelt once more.

After observing his appearance for a long while, Elizaveta let out a huff and suddenly paused to check the ground.

Drops of sweat were falling from his cheek.

   

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