The War to End All Wars (6)

Vigilance is an acutely volatile emotion.

Just as initial world-shattering fury dissipates after exchanging blows, vigilance too inevitably wanes upon receiving signals of potential resolution.

The Demons, having momentarily emerged from their existential dread, exhibited this pattern.

“Why are we being pushed back so easily?”

“Did we truly require such apprehension?”

Certainly, they retained the capacity to recognize humanity’s continued subjugation as imperative.

Yet in the immediate context, their present dominance proved undeniable – understandably bolstering their confidence despite unchanged objectives.

Moreover, this self-assurance did not stem from baseless delusions akin to the Belfast forces.

“Are we progressing according to plan?”

“Our advance outpaces initial projections by approximately two days. We shall soon reenact the legend of the previous war!”

“Excellent. Maintain this momentum!”

“But the Dark Lord commanded against outpacing the reserve forces–”

“The battlefield is inherently mutable. Surely the Dark Lord respects field commanders’ judgments! With appropriate accrual of merits, no issues should arise.”

“If you insist……”

An unobstructed frenzied assault towards Antrim, akin to a highway suddenly clearing.

From seizing the initial advantage to humanity’s rout – an eerie recapitulation of the prior conflict.

And unlike the Belfast officers reaching dubious psychological victories through decades of self-hypnosis: ‘We could have prevailed previously, so we shall emerge triumphant now!’ the Demons had genuinely tasted impending victory, only to let it slip from their grasp.

The catharsis stemmed from this tangible reality of once again advancing upon Antrim after such prolonged tribulations.

A measure of self-assurance untempered by arrogance could prove advantageous.

Yet this newfound zeal did not suddenly materialize from nonexistent loyalties driving their war efforts.

‘We risk forfeiting our spoils. Let us procure local provisions and press the advance.’

‘For every day we rest, others progress further. At this rate, my stake shall prove inadequate!’

While presently allied, the Demons remained an inherently fractious race prone to infighting and strife.

“At this rate, we can avenge the previous defeat!”

“Why settle for mere vengeance? Let us extinguish humanity’s entire lineage! From Antrim to Londinium – conquer every inch of land!”

“The blood spilled during the last war has yet to be properly recompensed. We must collect that debt, even now.”

With the initial fervor subsiding, alternative motivations gradually surfaced.

While espousing vengeance, their innermost contemplations aligned:

Swifter advances, greater accolades and power. They had selectively adopted the Belfast generals’ more unsavory aspects.

Employing indoctrination to reinforce their mental fortitude had at least precluded the outrageous notion of usurping the Dark Lord’s sovereignty. Yet they harbored intentions to subjugate any perceived undesirables.

With victory materializing, they could ponder the aftermath.

At the very least, they had commenced imbibing this mentality.

“Surely the Dark Lord cannot remain oblivious to these developments.”

“Thus the futile attempts to intervene, lacking any viable recourse.”

Edan, freshly returned from Antrim, remarked:

“Were I the Dark Lord, rather than coveting sole glory, I would mandate maintaining an appropriate pace.”

“With proper systems and interunit coordination, intervening would prove arduous. Admittedly, this was my greatest apprehension… What news from Londinium’s military circles?”

“Interrogations of captured prisoners confirmed receiving such orders, blatantly disregarded given the present circumstances.”

Outwardly unified, the Demonic ranks internally fragmented into various aristocratic factions and coalitions – a patchwork golem.

While this patchwork possessed formidable might, it nevertheless harbored exploitable vulnerabilities.

“They cannot possibly remain unscathed after such strikes.”

After all, the Demons had prioritized brute force despite foreknowledge, leaving them ill-equipped to endure subtler offensives.

So could they not conversely render the Dark Lord’s position untenable?

And the Demons’ unrestrained advance indicated:

“Any noteworthy progress during your excursion?”

“Yes, the military reorganization nears completion.”

Implying the purge of those culpable for the setbacks had commenced.

In truth, even if Freugne had completely subverted the military command, overtly or covertly ordering wholesale retreats would prove conspicuous.

Yet those genuinely believing they could vanquish the Demons one-on-one had fought resolutely – their resolve piercing the heavens, if not their capabilities.

In that sense, it had been a necessary evil:

At least fostering the perception of expending their utmost efforts had facilitated that sincere complacency.

But that deception’s shelf life had expired. Persisting further, even an Antrim fall would instill not complacency but justified self-assurance.

“And General Andrei’s stance?”

“He has acquiesced to our proposal. Liaison protocols have been separately conveyed.”

“Good. We must soon submit the promotion roster.”

A battlefield orchestrated by Freugne’s oversight and Edan’s direction.

The Demons, fangs whetted, stood poised to plunge into the gaping maw.

---

Ull had received two primary directives:

One, periodically report on Erinne’s well-being.

Ensuring her dietary intake, unit acclimation, and freedom from mistreatment – and if necessary, undertake ‘appropriate measures.’

Yet contrary to Freugne’s concerns, Erinne harbored no expectations of pampered treatment befitting a noble daughter.

Rather, the implicit prospect of such indulgences only exacerbated her discomfort, often resulting in her deliberately isolating herself alongside Ull.

And two, upon the war’s outbreak, eliminate the designated Demonic targets.

A non-issue thus far due to their frontline detachment.

But that reprieve had concluded today.

“Do you perceive that distant smoke?”

“Yes, sir!!”

“Those are the Demons – humanity’s adversaries, evidence of this war’s connection to the previous conflict. While you have only heard tales of the Demons, you shall soon witness them firsthand within days.”

Gulp The audible swallowing amidst the tension seemed deafening.

Rather than his customary disappointment, the Captain had opted to inspire courage among his troops, for such fleeting opportunities would soon vanish.

“Do you not perceive this as the culmination of our prolonged enmity, soldiers?!”

“Yes, sir!!”

“Soon the Belfast rabble shall come fleeing here. Having underestimated those Demonic vermin, they shall seek our deliverance with quivering posteriors and teary pleas. Extend them a warm welcome upon their arrival.”

And a single lapse named ‘complacency’ had sufficed.

“Behind us stands the Belfast Republic and its capital Antrim. But beyond that lies our homeland, our families! Never forget what you must safeguard!”

“What we must…safeguard.”

Ull murmured softly.

Protecting Erinne and eliminating the Demons proved incompatible directives.

Once combat commenced, he could only prioritize the latter – a reality he acknowledged.

Had he remained solely in the rear, he could have avoided this quandary. Yet Erinne would not have volunteered if consumed by such trepidations.

Ultimately, Ull could only pursue one recourse:

“Do not stray from your designated positions.”

“What, acting as my mother now?”

“My apologies if it came across that way.”

Firmly reiterating the instructions days before the impending battle –

This rudimentary precaution represented the limits of Ull’s low-spec cognitive processes.

Rarely issuing directives himself, he lacked an extensive vocabulary and could only reference Freugne’s prior statements as a frame of reference.

“Then… I should phrase it thus. Remain in the safest locations possible, and recall the weapon usage I demonstrated previously.”

“Ah, yes, I remember.”

“If perilous, retrieve the railgun beneath my bunk and employ it.”

“…Why was it under your bunk? Are you truly from some noble household? If so, why did you enlist here?”

And among Freugne’s conversational data excluding direct commands, most pertained to Edan or related contexts.

Inevitably, her subtly embedded affectionate intents permeated those exchanges.

“If any incident occurs, call out my name loudly.”

“Huh, what?!”

“Precisely as stated. Then, um. I shall swiftly arrive barring significant obstructions.”

While an ineffective flirtatious attempt, it paradoxically resonated with the romantically oblivious Ull.

“To do what, precisely?”

“To protect you, of course.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Erinne shuddered and exclaimed:

“How can you phrase it like that?!”

“Was my statement problematic?”

“…No? Yes?”

Upon reflection, Ull seemed devoid of ulterior intentions.

Yet his subconscious implications still appeared vaguely unsettling.

That evening, upon receiving the report of Erinne’s disconcerted behavior, Freugne facepalmed before deciding to directly relay it to Edan verbatim.