The Right Choice (1)
The commanders of the allied army were masters at the pinnacle of their fields, but that alone could not win the battle.
The demons were strong not only because of brute force, but because their bodies, organs, constitutions, and mental powers differed from humans.
Some reflected physical attacks, some commanded elements, some—like Igor, Lord of Terror—shattered minds.
That extreme mismatch must have been why former First Legion Commander Pidero of the Great Blade fell.
In the end, the battle in the flower field was one where anyone could die.
"Advance! Advance!"
Despite the shouts, the allied forces kept getting pushed back.
And then—
"Ugh!"
The back of the soldier fighting at the front slammed into the shields of those behind him.
They turned with furious eyes—their lives were on the line—but their spirits sank as if doused with cold water.
"How long...?"
They had reached the edge of the flower field.
When their view widened, nothing among the three hundred living flowers stood taller than the rest.
We've been pushed this far?
The flower field, planted with three hundred gigantic living structures, stretched vast—twenty-three kilometers in a straight line.
Lupist ground his teeth.
Damn it...
Forcing an opening in the demons' movement was nothing like turning the head of a running horse.
The allied army was always surrounded by demons and had to generate rotational force within that enclosure.
If you compared it to power, it was like shifting currents under a whole lake to make the entire body of water rotate.
Still...
Compared to when the army of Hell first advanced, the allied forces had swung a full fourteen degrees.
If the prophecy is right, with this much inertia applied they should naturally change direction.
This strategy worked because demon behavior differed from human military logic.
Humans use war as a means to an end—
Demons make war the end itself.
They simply charged wherever they could torment humans.
So if inertia isn't taking hold, that means a human-like will is at work.
It was likely related to why the legion commanders weren't included in the army of Hell.
Lupist spread a map inside his head.
If they keep going straight... it still won't be enough.
No matter how large their army, they'd pass to the side of Bashka.
We have to try something here.
Lupist shouted.
"All units!"
But when he looked at his soldiers' faces, he couldn't bring himself to say "charge."
Their eyes were filled with despair.
"The flower field has been taken."
There was no denying the power of the living flowers; the soldiers had psychologically relied on them.
"It's over. We can't win now." Seeing troops who'd lost their will to fight, Lupist could not force them onward.
It wasn't weakness.
You fought well. You couldn't have done more.
Once that understanding creeps in, even the cold Lupist couldn't do anything about it.
"All units, fall back."
The unexpected order surprised the soldiers.
"Guildmaster—"
"Retreat. I'll hold here. Return to Bashka and plan for the future. They'll need you."
Silence fell.
"We're sorry, Guildmaster."
As if agreeing by unspoken cue, everyone's eyes flamed and they leveled their weapons toward the front.
Surrounded on all sides by demons who snickered and jeered, Lupist turned his head.
"What are you doing?"
"Well... I really do want to live, you see."
The captain grinned.
"I don't have the slightest wish to flee. My heart won't move."
They had fought together; no more words were needed.
"This can't be happening. Right?"
That single line was enough. Lupist fixed the enemy with the most terrifying glare he could muster.
"…Right."
The allied army concentrated their last remaining will in one place and prepared to charge.
"All units!"
Now he could say it.
"Charge!"
As if pulled by their very souls, the allied forces surged forward, forgetting even how they ran.
"Gwahahaha! The final feast!" The demons pouring in from all sides licked their lips at the thought of the humans they would devour—
"Huh?"
At once, their gazes turned to the empty space behind the allied forces.
"W-what is that?"
An incarnation of the Thousand-Armed Kannon shot endlessly into the sky and looked down on them with benevolence.
"Prajñāpāramitā."
The hands pressed together in the incarnation split into two.
"Paradise Fan."
In an instant, countless afterimages filled the sky like a spreading fan.
The two palms that circled the ends of the world met where the demons stood.
Countless afterimages swarmed into a single point—and all the force detonated at once.
"KRAAAH!"
The demons' wall—one even spears could not pierce—was torn apart without mercy, and Lupist shuddered.
Perceptual dissonance.
Every stage replayed vividly in his mind, yet on reflection it had all happened in the blink of an eye.
A path opened from the rear of the allied army, and finally the formation split to both sides.
"What are you staring at? Never seen a pretty woman before?"
Lupist realized.
Right, we still have that.
Too small a name for her—humanity's strongest defender, the pinnacle of the age.
"Adrias Miro."
Miro approached Lupist, enjoying the allied soldiers' gazes, and shrugged.
"If you're interested, contact me. I'm single at the moment."
While Lupist simply watched, Dante stepped forward wagging his finger.
"You're late. The other Sion commanders are already carrying out operations elsewhere."
"You brat!"
No sooner had Dante spoken than Miro slapped his cheek and spun him around.
"Ugh!"
It didn't hurt much, but the sheer impropriety stunned Dante.
"Who do you compare yourself to? Don't you know Adrias Miro? I'm a busy woman."
Dante's eyes flared.
"You gave the orders. Those people risked their lives on a difficult mission."
"Difficult? No, that should be called impossible."
"…What do you mean by that?"
"Heh. Kid, you act so clever—listen. I'll tell you."
Miro tapped Dante's head and gave him a coquettish smile.
"No matter what you think, the world is far deeper and more complicated. Everything I do has a deep meaning." Lupist interjected.
"I'd like to hear that. What is this deep meaning you speak of?"
"There's no Satan here, is there?" Dante asked.
"The Sion elites lured him away?" Lupist added.
"No. He probably wouldn't have come anyway. The workings of the world stray from human logic. You can't calculate everything with thought. You must know the essence."
Lupist asked, "What is Satan's essence?"
"The universe's greatest coward. He wouldn't interfere in a large-scale war from the start. He always takes only the sweetness of victory from behind. Remember: Satan always gets what he wants. If you don't drive that into your head and act accordingly, you'll be swept away by the Law of this world."
"So you sent your comrades to the brink? They could be dead."
Miro was calm.
"Don't be human-centric. Look at the whole. I didn't send just anyone. To catch Satan you need to delicately tamper with the Law from the outset. Sion's elites went to do exactly that."
Dante conceded.
Only from Miro's viewpoint—one that observed the world from its highest point—could Satan be trapped.
Dante's expression shifted; Miro was satisfied.
"Of course, you're the ones changing the world. If you hadn't fought so fiercely, could I have arrived? In that sense, death is also life. Everyone's lives come together to create this situation."
That was the Law.
"…Then what do we do now?"
"What else is there to do?"
Miro stepped forward. "Open a new future."
Kiaaaa!
Beyond the demon army, Kaidra flew in, carrying Zulu, Kangnan, and Arius.
Shirone chose the golden dragon Metira.
He's taciturn, so the explanation will be short.
His gray hair split and fluttered down; he wore a coat cut like blades. He was strikingly handsome, but his eyes were like steel, lending a grotesque impression.
"What?"
Shirone repeated when he heard the plan.
"Iruki will drop an elemental bomb? In the capital of Tormia?"
"Yes. Human forces are carrying out the operation now, and the success rate is fifty-fifty. But if we join, we can completely overturn the situation." Shirone blinked.
So... trade the entire population of Bashka to annihilate the demon army.
The ice dragon Frige spoke.
"It's a good strategy."
She had short silver hair and straight-cut bangs and wore a dreamy expression. True to dragon nature—famous for never showing emotion—her assessment was blunt.
"For humans, it's the best they can do. If it succeeds, there will be hope for humanity."
Shirone nodded.
"Yes. That's right."
The Iruki Shirone knew was someone who could detonate an elemental bomb to wipe out the demons.
So it's unlike him.
And the Iruki who was Shirone's closest friend would do anything to prevent things from reaching that point.
Even if he had to give his life...
He was the type who would find an answer no matter what, and he had the ability to do so.
...It must have been hard for you, Iruki. Poine asked.
"Where shall we bring him? Bashka, where the elemental bomb will detonate; the cathedral where General Iruki is; or anywhere in the world. All of those places will need the Messiah."
The Twelve Apostles fought according to Shirone's will.
"There must have been a reason."
Shirone said with a sad expression, "There must have been the biggest reason in the world—something that couldn't be solved by his death alone."
Somewhere, someone sniffled.
"That's right, Messiah. Don't be too sad."
A girl with black hair braided into twin tails spoke. She wore a dress woven of grass and straw, and tears glistened in her large eyes.
The sprout dragon Eitra.
Beneath her dress, her legs were as thin as chopsticks—unmistakably a girl—but—
She's an Apostle I absolutely need. Her healing power, which handles life information, has made immense contributions to every dragon's fighting.
"Thanks."
Though she was the first Apostle to receive praise, nobody felt displeased this time.
Blitz asked, "Messiah. If so, where shall we take him?"
Shirone, having carefully confirmed the world situation Metira explained, spoke slowly.
"We are..."
Tilting.
Even in the heart of enemy lines, Lupist could read a massive inertia.
Small, but twisting slightly—and then more—in the demons' movement.
Four degrees. Just four more degrees.
Forces acting beneath the surface.
Now three degrees.
Miro's shockwave, Rian's shockwave, Amy's shockwave, and the shockwaves of all the others combined—
Two degrees!
Kukukukukuku!
One degree!
Finally, the great lake that was the demon army began to rotate as a whole.
"It worked!"
As Lupist shouted, the demons punched through the allied formation.
Their direction: southwest.
If they continue straight...
They would strike the capital of Tormia, and the elemental bomb would detonate over Bashka.
A disaster—or a miracle?
No one dared make the call.