The Demon Sovereign (6)

The battlefields transitioning into summer had become somewhat humid.

While the quagmires created by melting winter snows had largely dissipated, chilly morning mists still frequently manifested.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Want to hear an interesting story?”

Likely influenced by that distinctive atmospheric ambiance, the soldiers whiled away time disseminating apocryphal rumors – alleviating their boredoms and anxieties by postulating about some unseen entities lurking beyond their vantage scopes.

Unsubstantiated whispers about humanity deploying regiment-annihilating superweapons.

Or insinuations that the erstwhile human adversaries had withdrawn long ago, with higher commands merely feigning their continued presences to maintain discipline.

Sometimes they even interwove existing folktales with hypothetical scenarios about congealed human wraiths, ardently propitiating those spectral essences by offering residual scraps while indulging shamanistic trance states.

While invariably ominous, those delusional coping mechanisms had nevertheless become commonplace frontline occurrences alongside practical jokes and pranks.

“Emergencies! Emer-gen-cies!! The humans are attacking!!”

“What?! Where, where?!”

“All personnel awaken and assemble for combat readiness! The enemy’s entry vectors? Sizes and force strengths?”

“Uhh, false alarm – merely a roebuck.”

“You blithering imbecile–”

Beneath that overarching ‘Alliance’ designation, the Demons’ independently maintained command structures harbored one fundamental advantage:

Operational flexibility contingent upon field commanders’ discretions.

Under capable leaderships or overwhelming force superiorities, they could devise and execute efficient combat strategies swiftly without awaiting sluggish higher directives.

Certainly, competencies could hardly be expected from entities where military ranks became outright purchasable commodities.

But preceding any skill assessments, whenever unanimous charges represented the universal default stratagem, no alternative directives beyond ‘advance more, attack harder’ could possibly materialize.

Much like freeways exhibiting reduced accident rates without speed restrictions…

Everything had functioned seamlessly back when they unhesitatingly charged forth without dillydallying over logistical murmurs obstructing their paths.

But once stagnations had set in, bottlenecks began manifesting one after another.

“Damn you, hogging the entire road for yourself? Get out of the way immediately!”

“But the humans are digging trenches to ambush us up ahead! And they’ve amassed those strange automotive contraptions too……”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. This infuriating constipation. If you intend persisting with such pathetic jitters, then step aside and allow me to resolve this directly.”

Here, the independent command structures’ intrinsic flaws became glaringly apparent.

Had they remained under singular national affiliations, some governing arbitrators could have intervened.

But devoid of any unifying commonalities beyond merely serving the Demon Sovereign, proper coordinations proved virtually impossible among those essentially disparate entities.

The grunts had already resigned themselves into trench-bound sedentariness while their commanders arrogantly postured by puffing their chests in bellicose roars – each side desperately safeguarding their overinflated egos.

And their supposed sovereigns or representatives – who alone possessed mediation capacities – remained preoccupied scheming about securing propitious exit strategies without tarnishing their reputations.

Within such insular military environment, the only things truly being masticated remained gums alongside gossips.

As the old adages proclaimed – “Day’s words are overheard by birds, night’s utterances by mice, and sergeants’ commands by privates” – those stalemated Demons lamented their incessant stall-fire-retreat cycling.

“Could we not somehow extricate ourselves from this exasperating predicament already? We’ve remained entrenched here for weeks without advances.”

“Yet those initially unrestrained charges had felt so invigorating……”

And the proverbial monkey’s paw had inevitably granted their wish regardless.

Whether yet another rookie’s prank or not, those Demons protruding their craniums from trenches while rubbing their eyes had to confront undeniable realizations – that the unfolding scenes represented no mere nightmarish visions.

“This is the real deal! I repeat, this constitutes the genuine article! Not drills or fictions, but actual live combat engagements!!”

“Ah, uhh. I seem to have misplaced my firearm.”

“Well, you still possess functioning fists and legs, do you not? Then go forth and pummel them barefistedly if necessary!”

Confronted by the armored juggernauts cresting those hillsides, the Demons instinctively retaliated – whether attempting to pry them apart barehanded or bombarding them with artillery barrages.

Past experiences had conditioned them: Enduring such perfunctory exhibition matches would inevitably culminate with the humans begrudgingly acknowledging their tenacities before retreating.

Shedding sufficient bloodbaths could facilitate marginal advances, but that would involve mortgaging their futures for present survivals – an unviable option for the Demons already leveraging exorbitant future-discounted debts to fund this very war.

“They still refuse to withdraw?”

“Negative sir, they continue encroaching relentlessly!”

“Strange. The retreat bugles should have sounded by now……”

But this instance differed significantly.

By the time they reopened their eyes, those tanks – previously resembling minuscule pebbles atop distant ridgelines – had materialized directly before them with extended cannon muzzles.

-Kwwwaaanng! Pphhhewnng!-

-Tatatatatatatata!-

“Arrgghh, ughkk, eekkh.”

“Retreat, retreat immediately!”

“Impossible, all those trenches I excavated painstakingly…!!”

“At this rate, we’ll all perish here. The trenches can be re-excavated later – our priorities involve withdrawing safely for now!”

Not just the equipment, but the very troop qualities comprising this latest offensive differed considerably.

While begrudgingly confronting unpalatable realities, their prior resistances had stemmed from mere reluctances about escalating to such extremities.

But regardless of actual combat prowess assessments, preserving their forces’ survivabilities to subsequently guilt-trip “We too fought valiantly!” represented paramount priorities over outright annihilations.

Between completely defenseless pariahs versus retaining some residual leverages, the latter unquestionably represented the preferable options.

“Requesting reinforcements! I repeat, this is the Beks Duchy’s Legion positioned southwest of your unit’s locales! The humans have initiated a massive offensive against us–”

The Demons clashing against Freugne’s vanguard forces had frantically transmitted distress signals.

“What communications arrived?”

“Requests for reinforcements against the human offensives. Should we depart immediately?”

“Hold, which factions issued those requests?”

“The Beks Duchy’s primary legion.”

“Hmm, you may want to disregard those as undeliverable, perhaps?”

“Undeliverable, sir?”

“Have the inclement weather conditions not been extraordinarily unfavorable recently – with drizzles and dense fogs? Ample grounds for failed transmissions, would you not agree?”

Here, the accumulated demerits from their previous reckless ‘Juggernaut Racing Towards Antrim’ had resurfaced to collect outstanding debts.

The humans? Well, admittedly they had appeared somewhat formidable from the midpoint onwards – but ultimately remained unexceptional overall, had they not? Trapped in identical trench-bound stalemates, were they not?

“Would providing them assistance not represent the wiser course of action? We could leverage this to indebt them towards us for the future.”

“Tch tch, you clearly underestimate their propensities. From all indications, this appears to represent a desperate offensive driven by their increasingly dire circumstances. Even if we intervene, they would undoubtedly leverage those very forces we preserve to subsequently intimidate us.”

“Pardon?”

“You suggest deploying our troops to reinforce them against the humans’ powerful offensives? They would show zero gratitudes, unquestionably attempting to usurp whatever contingencies we contribute towards their war efforts.”

While the Demons’ final resistance window closed…

Edan’s tank battalions alongside Freugne’s meticulously nurtured conscripts advanced steadily across the Demon territories.

---

Edan had finally surpassed Marshal Bauder, securing the coveted ‘human captor of the most Demons’ accolade.

Surprisingly, Edan refrained from overly inhumane tortures like extracting claws or inverting suspensions.

By merely providing timely dietary sustenance, the Demons could actually enjoy relatively comfortable accommodations – certainly exceeding their pessimistic worst-case apprehensions, if not outright release expectations.

And by judiciously dangling judicious carrots, Edan had successfully harvested holistic Demon Sovereign assessments:

“Cognizant?”

“Ugh, ughh……”

“Do you recall your recent transgressions over these past few days?”

“Wha-, huh? Where is this place, exactly…?!”

Their motivations for infiltrating Londinium while foaming at their maws had originated not from some nebulous patriotic epiphanies, but the Demon Sovereign’s indoctrinations.

Most had manifested lighter indoctrination symptoms – the spells’ effects dissipating rapidly, leaving them mere trembling wrecks.

But a select few who had directly confronted the Demon Sovereign required mystic interventions to regain lucidities.

Including the disoriented Demon in disheveled white vestments with hazy recollections, Edan had discovered how those directly indoctrinated had attempted piggy-backing the Demon Sovereign’s psyches to access Freugne’s cognitions.

“So these Demon Sovereigns have persisted continuously throughout historical epochs?”

“Yet they appear virtually distinct species-level divergences. One wonders whether they even constitute the same ‘Demon’ race.”

The conviction solidified:

Had even one additional Demon Sovereign existed, victories would have proven considerably more arduous. Facing a singular iteration already felt destined to induce madnesses – fortifying underground bunkers would represent wiser recourses than confronting duplicate equivalents.

Another realization had materialized through methodically domesticating those Demons:

“The Demon Sovereign’s indoctrinating influence… certainly appears waning.”

“Undoubtedly due to his severely diminished authorities.”

Indoctrinations differed from psychological reconditioning.

Certainly, the Demon Sovereign’s directly administered mind-controls approached quasi-brainwashing levels.

But psychically indoctrinating every Demon individually proved impractical.

And indoctrinations heavily depended upon the recipients’ mentalities.

Therefore, as fewer Demons perceived obeying his leaderships as beneficial, his control capacities would naturally dissipate proportionately.

“At this rate, his deposal seems imminent.”

“While certainly plausible, my perspectives slightly diverge.”

Freugne did not rely upon irrational intuitions or extrasensory perceptions.

Yet on mornings commencing with songbirds’ chirpings accompanied by peculiarly invigorating sensations…

She suspected an invisible, intangible ‘something’ exuding chilling ambiances akin to trickles of cold sweat cascading down her spine.

And her assessments postulated:

The Demon Sovereign represented no benign individual amenable to gracious resignations.

“Ultimately, the Demon Sovereign shall inevitably attempt some form of final defiances.”

Did not gaming encounters frequently manifest ‘last-hurrah’ patterns where vanquished bosses unleashed apocalyptic tantrums before their final breaths? How often had she witnessed desperate authority figures flailing to retain their pedestals after ascensions to vertiginous apexes?

While the Demon Sovereign certainly did not constitute a human…

As long as he represented a supremacist powermonger, his responses would unlikely deviate significantly from archetypal norms.