The Demon Sovereign (8)

Throughout those protracted weeks of quasi-stalemates…

The soldiers had remained utterly relentless following the offensives shattering those exasperating deadlocks.

They charged forth as if predators pursued from behind – any momentary respites could potentially incur catastrophic consequences.

Scattered tanks were hastily shunted aside while the wounded were consigned to trailing contingents before reigniting their engines.

The rationale proved simple:

“Absolutely no halting under any circumstances!”

“This represents an opportune juncture! To utterly devour those Demons still reeling from our potent offensives before they can reorient themselves!”

“You imbeciles remain imbeciles nonetheless! Utterly incapable of properly waging warfare! But you should possess the bare minimum competencies to scavenge upon the morsels left behind by your vanguard predecessors, should you not? Hmm??”

Any momentary pauses could potentially enable the Demons to regain their lucidities.

“Humans! The humans have manifested!”

“Not another false alarm this time, is it? The real deal?!”

“But we witnessed their retreats just last night. How have they caught up already?”

“Our Empire spanning decades has finally met its demise! The end has arrived!”

While the majority – having been evicted from their cozy trench shelters – still remained oblivious to that profound sense of displacement…

Excluding Freugne’s newly reconstituted specialized contingents after harvesting their predecessors’ accumulated experiences, the remaining troops’ combat capabilities had remained essentially unaltered.

“Enemies ahead! How shall we proceed?”

“Summon Sergeant Vill-… oh no, he deserted elsewhere. Surely some veteran non-commissioned officers accustomed to such situations remain?”

“Vill typically resolved everything ordinarily, so we’re rather……”

“Utterly disastrous, as expected.”

“Commander… I’m terrified… please embrace me……”

“Fucking hell.”

No, they could hardly have grown stronger by forcibly extracting their ace elements – only depletions could realistically transpire.

Freugne had not suddenly conceived brilliant strategies encircling 5,000 with mere 300 troops, nor acquired Demon Sovereign-esque powers psychically imposing unnatural courages through mass hypnoses.

Therefore, this gambit had represented considerable risk acceptance even for her.

While puncturing holes through defensive perimeters remained meticulously plannable, subsequent progressions proved considerably more nebulous and unpredictable by their very natures.

As anticipated, inputting simple ‘advance’ commands had compelled those armies into contorting every sinew towards compliance:

“You shall manage the captured Demon prisoners! Should any attempt escapes, either re-apprehend them or – failing that – immediately neutralize them as straightforward assignments!”

“B-But we’re merely culinary personnel–”

“As proud Glasgow soldieries, surely you can fulfill such humble tasks, can you not? Now then, you possess trigger fingers, do you not?”

“Yes sir, we do!”

“Excellent. I shall rely upon your diligent services henceforth!”

The Glasgow armies epitomized this era’s quintessential insular organizations – their hermetically sealed environments fostering vertical hierarchies alongside constrictive rigidities.

Despite officially championing unconditional loyalties alongside unwavering obediences as paramount tenets…

Instinctive skepticisms still manifested, prompting General Andre – seldom affording individual grunts excessive interactive durations – into swiftly proceeding towards his next destination regardless of whether they accepted his rationales.

The cooks previously stirring split-pea porridges now found themselves cosplaying as elite shock troopers – clutching rusted firearms alongside ragged uniforms despite complete disqualifications.

The drivers who had arrived bearing the Gracious Queen’s chocolate rations found themselves reassigned on-site into ferrying troops towards frontlines within their own transport trucks instead of returning to their originating depots.

“Accelerate! Stomp that pedal harder, until the engines combust!!”

“Uuwaahh, but I’m unfamiliar with operating these contraptions! I merely occupied the passenger seats previously…!!”

“Depress the left pedal to accelerate, right to decelerate! You lack even that rudimentary knowledge, do you not?!”

“Kkkhhuuaaaarrgghh!!”

“Ah, my mistakes – the opposite directions.”

Despite those transitional mis-steppings…

This rigid organization’s sole flexibilities – rapidly swapping and slotting new role-designations before compelling performances – had finally shone resplendently.

Such improvisational delegation gymnastics at virtually real-time cadences represented capabilities seldom encountered across other institutions.

And techniques previously reserved for geriatric privates quantum-superposing themselves into microscopic universes during existential crises had escalated into frenzied applications.

“Stop pursuing me! Get lost! This feels like awakening from nightmares!!”

“Did you not always delight in arriving upon our territories previously? Hmm? Allow me to reciprocate this visitation for once!”

The chaos – comprising high commands’ kowtowing combined with middle-management circuses alongside ground-level anguished acquiescences – had utterly engulfed them.

Even Freugne – renowned as the foremost virtuoso after Edan in holistic strategizing – had relinquished half her meticulous planning reins amidst that cascading entropy.

Regardless of whether opponents brandished literal firearms, pursuing them with bloodshot rageful eyes alone already invoked primal terrors.

Initially overwhelmed by sheer violence into retreats, the Demons now backpedaled through sheer inertial momentums.

Therefore, they needed to capitalize upon maximal extractable advantages before exposing their actual ‘death-build’ status.

Group surrenders from mere railgun barrages would undoubtedly become increasingly unwitnessable sights.

And how extensive had these manic sprints persisted?

“Over those distant horizons, do you perceive anything?”

“Perceive what, exactly?”

“Observe through this telescope.”

The outcomes from solely focusing forwards while charging forth – glimpsing only swirling debris alongside trampled comrades’ footprints:

“Can you discern that peak’s banners?”

“…While minuscule, I believe I can perceive something.”

“Those represent the Demon Capital’s crowning banners. Maintaining this momentum for another day should deliver us directly before them.”

They had finally arrived at their long-awaited destinations.

---

Even worms would thrash when trampled underfoot.

But despite enduring not just underfoot smotherments but vicious additional stomping as well, defeatist attitudes persisted unabatedly.

While logically comprehending that congregating could increase survivability prospects akin to felled lumberjacks binding together…

Those erstwhile teammates had relegated such commonsensical recourses into peripheral blindspots – enabling the territorially displaced Demons to commence raucous outcries against the human onslaught precisely as follows:

“Your Majesty, how can you permit such indignities? Our sovereign lands suffer utterly defilement under human bootheels!”

“……”

“Promptly summon reinforcements without delay. Should we not rightfully reclaim what legitimately belonged to us?”

“……”

“Your Majesty, respond I implore you!!”

The supreme leader of all Demonkind. The illustrious archmage alongside their racial vanguard.

A figure once extolled by some yet dreaded by others – that designation no longer held overarching significance.

The tides had irreversibly shifted. Humanity had proven considerably more insidious than anticipated, and the Demon Sovereign’s decades-spanning machinations had crumbled into utter inanities.

“Enough.”

Yet losses of authority did not necessarily equate to personal incompetencies.

“Speak your intents.”

“Have you marshaled your troops into readiness?”

“Affirmatively. If you would only bestow reinforcement orders, I could immediately–”

“Very well. Then resign yourselves unto suicides.”

“……!”

The Demon Sovereign softly uttered while raising his withered hand.

That Demon’s indignant protestations froze instantaneously.

And after a momentary pause, he responded with contorted rictuses blurring boundaries between grinning or weeping:

“…It has been an honor serving you!”

Thud thud, Bang. Then a heavy flump.

The muffled sounds of someone’s body collapsing echoed faintly from behind closed doors.

He lacked abilities remotely manipulating human mentalities akin to psychic dominations.

His capacities only extended towards reading other individuals’ memories by channeling through previously indoctrinated Demons – or issuing self-termination directives as just witnessed.

While sufficient justifications for Demonic coronations, such aptitudes could never decide martial conflicts outright.

His grandiose aspirations systematically neutralizing Freugne had dissipated into nonexistences, while cathartic terminations of human officers had failed catalyzing meaningful strategic pivots – he clearly lacked Ulric’s proficiencies selectively culling desired targets through personal deployments after all.

“You there, approach.”

“…Yes, you have summoned me?”

One subordinate hesitantly shuffled forwards as the Demon Sovereign bestowed benevolent smiles upon him.

He harbored no intentions punishing the faultless.

Merely that during such eras, further consolidations by removing potentially treacherous elements represented judicious precautions.

While innumerable scholars had already exhaustively deliberated the reasons behind humanity’s perpetuations…

The Demon Sovereign’s personal conclusion involved one solitary rationale:

‘Their inability to unite.’

Whenever harboring auspicious prospects, they unhesitatingly undermined their very allies’ posteriors by prematurely devouring the entire pies for themselves.

Despite wielding decisive strikes capable of exterminating humanity into virtual extinctions, they prioritized bickering over self-interest calculations ahead of grandiose visions.

“Is this not utterly laughable? Those who had once fervently striven to prove their unsurpassed loyalties above all others now resort to such internecine disunities and dissensions.”

“……”

“It appears I have remained upon this throne far too prolongedly.”

A weary sigh filled the vacant halls of the desolate Demon Capital.

His grayed beard cascaded down his chest in flowing rivulets.

Deeply furrowed wrinkles etched across his countenance, while the very hands that had once gripped half the world now trembled faintly with enfeeblement.

All ascendancies inevitably experienced declines – the cosmic inevitability.

Therefore, he had resolved unleashing one final gambit before utter obsolescences, however belated.

He understood this essentially represented political suicides.

Yet if utterly inert awaiting equally calamitous doomsdays regardless, why not indulge that plunge?

And finally…

“I shall personally enter the fray.”

“…Your Majesty.”

The Demon Sovereign heaved his leaden haunches upright.