Ch.171War of the Gods.

[If we continue like this, both will be ruined.]

By the year 103 of the Amurtat calendar, when the war showed no signs of ending, everyone from common serfs to monarchs and grand monarchs began harboring this thought in their hearts.

Farmlands abandoned by those who once tended them were already overrun with weeds. Livestock, lacking proper feed, stopped producing milk and eggs. Throughout winter, countless people perished buried in frost—either from starvation, lack of proper clothing, or homes that went unrepaired.

Finally, as spring arrived, Amurtat played its final card—implementing a rationing system. Other nations in the Amurtat faction followed suit, forcing taverns to close down almost compulsorily.

“Damn it…! I thought I’d never have to eat this kind of bread again!”

“What’s happening? Weren’t we supposed to be winning?”

As they say, those who have flown higher feel the pain of falling more acutely. For the citizens of Amurtat, who prided themselves on building a superior civilization, the implementation of rationing came as a bolt from the blue.

Fortunately, some exceptions to rationing allowed minimal food trade to continue, but this was far from enough to satisfy the needs of Amurtat’s ten million citizens.

Of course, those ten million still believed they could achieve “ultimate victory.” Despite the occasional wails of widows, loyalty remained high since the national system hadn’t yet suffered enough damage to collapse.

Moreover, even if they had been incited, the people themselves had wanted the war to begin. Anyone who spoke against the war just because the situation had become “somewhat” unfavorable would be branded a traitor.

“No matter how tenaciously those Fahrenheit bastards resist, as long as one of our soldiers can defeat one of their knights, victory is certain!”

“If we endure this time of hardship, we shall receive our rightful rewards!”

To appease the public, propaganda officers shouted through loudspeakers daily to calm the people’s anxieties. As a finishing touch, they released large quantities of alcohol from their dimensional storage warehouses, which had been stockpiled for such occasions, narrowly managing to regain public support.

Though Amurtat’s history spanned just over a hundred years, its development had been beyond imagination.

They had accumulated more than other nations in the same timeframe, allowing at least the Amurtat homeland to somehow escape the clutches of famine.

In truth, their ability to endure was partly due to massive support from smaller nations. By drastically reducing livestock numbers, the remaining animals could continue producing eggs and milk, keeping Amurtat’s livestock industry functioning normally. This meant that although prices rose somewhat, people could rationalize it with thoughts like “Well, we are at war…” which helped control inflation.

Thanks to this, they could fight for several more years. Ultimately, the Amurtat faction managed to overcome the crisis through swift countermeasures.

*

“What? You can’t sell us food?”

“That’s right. They said their own situation is difficult… They’ve returned the money we paid plus a penalty fee, but there’s nothing more we can do…”

“Damn it!”

Although Amurtat controlled the coastline, there weren’t many nations actually located on the coast, so seafood production was surprisingly low. Fish and shellfish spoil quickly unless preserved, meaning even freshly caught fish would soon go bad.

Moreover, food processing industries typically require enormous labor, and as men were conscripted or recruited for war, production inevitably plummeted.

After all, when one thinks of fishermen, one invariably pictures men, not women.

However, as the dialogue above shows, Fahrenheit was hardly in a comfortable situation either.

With access to the coast completely cut off, their only fish came from freshwater lakes. If they caught all of those, the lakes would become nothing more than large bodies of water.

Therefore, they had been barely sustaining themselves by continuing trade with the Central region—their only advantage—but now even that trade had been severed.

The reason was simple: the Central region, prone to frequent warfare, had once again erupted into conflict and urgently needed to secure military provisions.

Money wasn’t the issue, so they canceled contracts even while paying penalty fees, leaving neighboring countries that had been purchasing food through Central trade speechless.

Of course, they grew their own crops and had stockpiles, so they wouldn’t immediately collapse, but…

“When will this cursed war ever end?”

“I don’t care who wins—I just want to eat my fill of white wheat bread again!”

The problem was that no one, from the grand monarchs down, could determine when this damned war would finally end.

What made matters worse was that as economic strength slowly drained away, vassal states began taking more aggressive action, implementing a “kill before being killed” strategy. Battles involving over 100,000 troops on each side became increasingly common, and now the main forces of Amurtat and Fahrenheit had begun direct combat.

“Lord Tiberius protects us! First rank, forward! Show those bastards shock and awe!”

“Blessings upon those who carry on Fahrenheit’s ancient legacy! Knights, assemble! Let’s crush those fools’ battle lines!”

Naturally, with the strongest powers entering the fray, the war devolved into an unpredictable quagmire.

To put it crudely, it was like kingpins jumping into a beggar’s brawl.

Moreover, since the war began over the “Grand Monarch’s Throne,” there would be no ceasefire or peace treaty.

Amurtat and Fahrenheit.

One had to be unconditionally defeated, destroyed, and either the monarch or grand monarch had to be assassinated.

That was tradition. That was the rule.

Just as there was only one sun and one moon in the sky, only one nation could ascend to the solitary throne and claim regional hegemony.

Medieval technology cannot sustain total war.

Medieval productivity cannot endure prolonged conflict.

Medieval values cannot prepare for wars of annihilation.

But the War of the Throne made all these things possible.

The War of the Throne was a conflict between citizens who believed in their monarch and subjects who followed their grand monarch—the only condition that justified prolonged, total, and annihilating warfare.

If technology is lacking, make up for it with loyalty.

If food is scarce, endure with fanaticism.

Change the world not by your judgment, but by His.

The War of the Throne was fought with madness beyond will and fanaticism beyond faith. Amurtat and Fahrenheit had crossed a river of no return.

Whether Amurtat’s battle lines surged forward like the tide, or Fahrenheit’s knights charged with raised banners.

One of two outcomes awaited them, and their loyal subjects were writing that conclusion.

“The hegemony of the North is Lord Tiberius’s rightful claim! Let us punish the Fahrenheit swine!”

“Let’s teach those ungrateful Amurtat wolf packs a lesson! Knights, forward!”

That is why they fight.

That is why they do not retreat.

If they retreat, their loyalty will be trampled under horses’ hooves. If they do not fight, their banners will wear away.

More shameful than hunger was dishonor, and more terrifying than death was watching one’s beliefs crumble.

So the war continues without end.

This is what total war means.

A war where men disappear and widows clutching hungry children wail in grief is merely an amateur’s conflict, not true total war.

True total war is divine annihilation.

Take everything, burn everything, kill everything.

If you refuse, you will burn to death. If you flee, you will starve to death. If you fight, you will die by sword and gun.

“Lord Tiberius protects us! Take courage, soldiers! Final victory shall be ours!”

“Infinite glory to His Majesty Marcus on the throne! The ruler of this North shall endure forever!”

Do you hear those voices?

They are not loyal to the human above them.

They are loyal to the living god who reigns over them.

Anyone suggesting that monarchs are merely mortal humans bound by mortal fate would be condemned as a heretic.

With a single gesture from the monarchs, the air trembles and villages and cities are created.

Sages prostrate themselves before the wisdom and intellect gained through immortal lives.

No being on earth could dare meet the eyes of a monarch.

They are the creators who forged spaces for humanity to live, the guardians who protect them from demons and monsters, and the only beings who can define laws and regulations that humans can trust and rely on, establishing standards of ethics and morality.

Those chosen by humanity’s masters must rightfully fight for their gods.

Even in this world forged from fear and despair, there exist those who protect humanity. Their name is Monarch, and they are supreme beings who rule over all creation.

Thus we shall spread the good news: the gods walk among us.