30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

Chapter 284

“Did you miss it?”

A soft voice echoed. It was not a statement expecting a response. Nekinon surely knew that he wouldn’t answer.

The molten gold wavered in silence. Even in the darkness, the luxurious bathhouse shimmered with flickering torches, and at its center, a small figure silently turned its back.

There was sound, but it was not silence. Creak, creak. The noise of grinding teeth was leaking out little by little. The goblins, who had been attending to the dreadful aura, foamed at their mouths and collapsed.

The blind king stood before him, smiling.

“Are you hurt?”

[Shut up.]

“So, your heart is wounded as well.”

As the king chuckled lightly, the sound of grinding teeth ceased. After a terrifying silence, a chilling presence thickened the air. A long crack appeared on the marble inscribed with magical runes, and the humans prepared as sacrifices fell, spewing blood.

The king quietly laughed, gently stirring the air turned black.

[Do you wish to die, human?]

“Can you kill me?”

[How arrogant. Do you truly believe that just because everyone calls you the Demon King, you can be the king of the demons? The insignificant creatures living for a fleeting moment, how dare you—!!]

“The king of demons? Now that’s an interesting tale. Since when have you had such a strong sense of kinship?”

[What…?]

“Goblin among goblins, taurine among taurines, orc among orcs, yes. There has never been a king among demons. The term Seven Dragon Lords is just as ludicrous. By declaring themselves numbers before the God of Species, you lost your independence. You once claimed to be a complete deity alone, yet now you have relegated yourselves to merely being part of a group.”

Kwaggagagga!

Before the king’s words ended, the gold surged. In an instant, it enveloped the diminutive silhouette, regaining the shape of a colossal serpent. The molten gold bubbled upward, forming scales, and the falling form hardened, weaving sharp fangs within its mouth.

Below, empty eye sockets created from pooling blood glared at the king, hissing.

[Choose your next words carefully, human.]

“You are the god of a world where gods have departed. A self-praise of those who can no longer be great alone. Quite remarkable.”

[Do you truly believe I cannot kill you?]

“Bluster is the way of the weak. Nekinon. The strong do not beg for respect. Come down. I shall not say it twice.”

Pudduddeuk.

The golden serpent ground its teeth. Amidst the roaring noise of iron plates being ground away in the forge, Nekinon’s head slowly came level with the king, locking eyes.

[Speak your mind, and if you have nothing to convey, then go away.]

“Prepare for three days.”

[…What?]

“Your intentions to turn your preparations around are commendable. But I won’t allow it just now. Wait for three days.”

The sudden request. Nekinon carefully contemplated his order. The man before him had always ensured autonomy in the choices made by them, even while designing grand strategies.

To put it more accurately… it would not be wrong to say he had neglected them. He was the one who smiled and nodded, regardless of the decisions made by Nekinon and Tanashimor.

Now, this man is issuing tactical orders?

Before anger or disdain or inferiority complex could arise, a question surged.

[Why? Wouldn’t it be better to attack before their preparations are complete?]

“Did you calculate that if the humans are fully prepared, the odds would be against you? That is quite a cautious calculation for one bearing the name of a god.”

[If you wish to continue this conversation, cease your mockery. My patience is limited.]

“There are no longer any heroes among humans, and those who pride themselves as heroes have yet to mature adequately. In such circumstances, if a force like this and the Seven Dragon Lords directly intervened, does their number really matter? Do you truly think so?”

[That is not a valid reason. What meaning is there in providing them enough time to prepare?]

“Moon.”

The blind king reached out toward the night sky. A thin crescent moon hung in the cloudy sky. It was the last quarter.

“In three days, the moon will not be present.”

[Are you saying we should launch a surprise attack during the night? Ridiculous. The nights of humans are absurdly bright compared to the Demon Realm, and this is their territory. No matter how dark the night descends, can that really be more strategically advantageous than providing them time to prepare?]

“Well, allow me to ask once more.”

The king twisted his head slightly, smiling.

“Are you afraid? Afraid of the battle that comes after the humans have completed their preparations?”

[It is merely trivial inconveniences that irk me!! If you are so confident, then yes. I shall utilize all the forces in this region as I see fit, regardless of how great the losses may be! And you shall understand that all losses incurred by the demons result from your decisions. I will certainly collect that debt.]

“Do as you wish.”

The king smiled faintly as he turned and walked away. Clack, clack. The marks of the earth burnt through as he walked, using the sword wrapped in chains as a staff.

After walking for a while alone, the king raised his bandaged face to the sky and whispered.

“When the moon is obscured, the stars shine brighter.”

In the vast plains devoid of the city’s glow, how radiant must the night sky be when the moon does not rise?

Under the distant sky flowing with the Milky Way, perhaps the stars of the whole world were shining for him.

The waning crescent was advancing toward the western edge.

The moon bears the sacredness of the sun. Especially in this world. Reflecting the sunlight from the opposite side of the planet, the moon is a satellite that illuminates the ground, thus it is, metaphorically, the Lord’s eye that guards the world even at night. So he thought.

So see, Lord.

I will fulfill your will. Even if it is not the form you desired.

Prove that this world does not need gods. Absolutely.

There could be no more fitting ending to a hero’s epilogue than this. Thus he mocked himself.

*

The representative of the royal authority in Tylesse, the supreme military commander, the commander of the Eastern Knights, and the temporary titular representative of the royal duel. In short, ‘Lord Protector’. The eldest son of Jill Ber de Etarique, inheriting the title of Duke Etarique, the pivot of the next generation of power.

Opposite him stood the eldest son of the Eastvelpen family from the Kalion Council, the brother-in-law of the Rustfits family, the temporary fleet commander of the Southern Fleet of Kalion, the general representative of the family coalition, and the only disciple of the lord of the Swordsmanship Faction, Edel Cohenulf. In other words, yet another pivot of the next generation of power.

Beside them stood the Dwarf Andgrind, the dictator of all underground cities in the Sky Mountains, the king of blacksmiths, acting secretary of the Dwarven masses, officially titled Technical Commissioner, Battle Pilgrim, and Construction Captain. The king’s illegitimate daughter.

Ramiro I of Leonor, Domenico of Albina, Ermenico of Elsros, Philippe II of Lorensia, and Carlos III, the Sun King of Bellacria. The warlords of the Southern Six Nations sat in one place.

Standing silently with her hands together, representing the consensus of all of them, was the saint, Patricia, the hero of the last great war, and the only remaining core of the now-collapsed church, classified as the new faith sect.

Many battle standards symbolizing each of them lined the long military tent. The sounds of banners fluttering in the breeze could be heard, yet the inside of the tent remained solemnly quiet.

Clack, clack.

The eyes of the warlords sharpened. The sound of firm steps stepping on solid ground came from beyond the tent.

Clack, clack.

All present were powerful figures who would regard themselves as supreme rulers in their lands. Above them was only the Lord, and they were monarchs who did not wish to keep anyone else above their heads.

Yet these kings were now tense at the presence of one person.

Looking each other in the eye, they realized that they shared the same sentiment. It was absurd. Were they not here to ‘help’ this country? If they were the leaders of reinforcements, and had come here without asking for a reward, they had every right to stand proud.

However, before a monarch who had burned half his homeland, sacrificed half his troops, and yet continued the war by using his own life as bait, they could do nothing but feel the tension as mere people.

A cold-blooded tyrant who regards his own life merely as a component of strategy, commanding his close associates and loyalists to risk their lives as if it were the most natural thing to do. That goal was not his power, but one only: the survival of this country.

Steel would be softer than him. Though few of the monarchs present were younger than the woman, none were more adept at war than her.

It is natural for all power holders to be selfish. Selfishness is the bloodstream of power holders. Altruistic beings cannot even qualify to hold power. Those without ambition cannot secure or maintain power.

Thus, the kings do not understand the ruler of Krasilov. The cruelty and ambition of slaughtering one’s own brothers and parents, beheading the powerful, were rather easier to understand, yet this dull war-who would continue sacrificing lives indifferently was incomprehensible.

Humans fear what they cannot understand. So did the kings at this gathering.

And moreover, they reverently call that which they fear and dislike awe. Awe is the banquet of gods. In this moment, the ruler of Krasilov was akin to a god among the warlords.

Clack.

Steps come to a halt. Someone swallowed hard.

The granddaughter of the Conqueror, the worst intelligence officer in the Great War, a woman who had slain all of her own kin, reveals herself.

The tent opened, and Elizaveta walked in indifferently, naturally taking her place on the highest platform in the camp and lightly bowing her head.

“Over the past few days, I was concerned that my appearance was too shabby to stand before the many kings. Thank you for dedicating your precious time to me.”

As if waiting was a matter of course.

Grateful to the reinforcements who had come with all the resources of the nation, yet maintaining the dignity of not bowing in submission.

“So, may I have a little more time? Before expressing proper gratitude to you, holding a banquet for the brotherhood of nations today, and planning strategies against the upcoming enemies. Just a moment.”

The kings’ gazes landed on Elizaveta.

“Countless righteous men have died before us. Which among us can dare say otherwise? Kings, nobles, knights, and soldiers, even peasants. Countless lives have perished, and most of them were discarded like garbage in the fields without even a tombstone. And all of that happened less than ten years ago.”

A flame flared in Elizaveta’s eyes. The anger that not even dark blood could conceal blazed fiercely.

The king who buried his people and cities with his own hands growled.

“When the Demon King died, we happily fired off cannons, declaring that everlasting peace had arrived. The demons were crushed, and heroes finally brought humanity victory. We told everyone to rest easy, that every night would no longer be a tragedy, and every day would no longer bring new despair. Is that not so? Was it truly so?”

Elizaveta slowly leaned forward. Meeting the eyes of each warlord in the camp, she continued her speech beneath her clasped hands.

“No. The enemies have come once more, and now we must stop them with less than half the strength of the last war. While we were at ease and let our guard down, they have become more cunning, more skilled, and more devious. The world has been invaded, and their armies have now crossed the last borders of the last war and reached us here.”

Elizaveta’s hands tightened into fists.

“Many have died. The territories of our homeland have been trampled, and our people now face a tomorrow more dire than before the last war. But, brothers of the alliance. Yet, here we are.”

This is how a king thanks his peers.

“Even after encountering their own destruction, everyone has come to this place. They do not view the tragedies of foreign countries as mere fables in distant lands but have arrived here. Even amidst the grasp of the enemies who were invading from every direction to dismantle us, we have once again united and arrived here.”

So, our names are not Krasilov, Kalion, Tylesse, Drovian, Leonor, Equitania, Albina, Elsros, or Bellacria.

We are the United Kingdom.

A coalition of united humanity.

“Today, we await tomorrow’s war. We stand before the armies of the demons to come. But tomorrow, and the day after that. There shall be no more wars for us. And so I shall dare to say to you with confidence. There shall be no more wars on this land. This is the last war of our era, and finally, the first of our era, and an everlasting peace will await.”

For permanent peace.

“Brothers of the alliance. We shall stand against death. Just like our ancestors, and the righteous souls who left before us have done. I sincerely thank you for standing with us.”

“Long live the alliance.”

As Oscar raised his greeting, all the monarchs echoed in lowered voices.

“Long live the alliance.”

No one was overwhelmed with excitement. They whispered calmly, with the mere intention of stating facts. Eternal peace, permanent cessation, and.

The death of the demons. The victory of humanity, for the brotherhood of the alliance. Long live the United Kingdom.

Elizaveta nodded silently and waved her hand. Soon a massive tactical map spread across one corner of the military tent.

“Now, we shall prepare for our final war.”

   

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