The War to End All Wars (9)

Before Ull departed Londinium, the orders he received from Freugne were clear and concise:

“Once the war begins, I will periodically send you a list. Since you likely won’t recognize the Demonic commanders by name alone, I’ll include distinguishing characteristics like their appearance and attire as well.”

“So whenever a battle occurs, I have to take care of those listed individuals?”

“No, quite the opposite actually.”

“?”

“While I can’t say about other Demons, those particular ones you must keep alive. And if possible, refrain from even threatening them.”

“…? I fail to understand.”

Stunned by the sudden betrayal move from humanity, Edan shuddered slightly, prompting Freugne to swiftly correct the misunderstanding.

“The Demonic commanders you’ll likely encounter first are undoubtedly among the most aggressive and gungho within their ranks, by virtue of occupying those positions, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so.”

“Hence they must survive. The most belligerent, ambitious ones who cannot wait for the Dark Lord to enact his grand stratagem.”

To continuously provide fodder for the kingdom’s forces that she and Edan had painstakingly nurtured.

To aid in propelling the relentless offensives doomed to self-destruct the Demons while operating under the misguided conviction that incessant aggression was the answer.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar notion, really. The very reason humanity had been steadily pushed back thus far.

The sole distinction between Freugne and the Dark Lord, if any, was that Freugne possessed ample justifications from past defeats to oust Belfast’s existing commanders, whereas the currently spearheading Demonic officers were sheer upstarts laden with victories instead.

“Hence the Dark Lord can never dismiss them. At least for the foreseeable future.”

Of course, just as she had experienced, a accumulation of defeats would eventually resolve that issue over time.

However, by then, how many losses would the Demons have suffered? Enough to render their prior victories meaningless?

At first, they could brush off a few losses as mere flukes.

And after more, they would insist it was a temporary condition, blaming unfavorable terrain or home advantages, grasping at any excuses to persist.

Hadn’t something similar transpired at the Antrim council already?

The Demons would undoubtedly double down further rather than back off.

Freugne appended one final remark.

“The lower and midranking officers are another story, of course.”

“Understood.”

No organization could function without middle managers, after all.

And unlike the top brass solely fixated on advancing, those who thought too much could prove far trickier adversaries if their heads remained clear.

The infiltrated Ull retrieved his railgun.

Initially, he had contemplated employing melee weapons like daggers, but the Demons he had engaged thus far involved one-on-one, or at most three-on-one scenarios.

Unless capable of area-of-effect attacks like Edan, stealthily assassinating while concealed proved more viable than openly fighting where he lacked endurance to withstand protracted offensives.

He clearly recalled whom to preserve.

One Demon stood at the rear, observing the battlefield like admiring artwork. Pristinely attired in an immaculate uniform despite the circumstances.

‘That one can be spared for now.’

As could his chattering entourage. Their banter would undoubtedly prove unpalatable regardless.

Ull shifted his gaze towards the vanguard.

There were several Demons akin to his unit’s sergeants, raucously bellowing orders at the frontlines. Clad distinctively from common grunts, they ventured perilously close to incoming fire while manhandling troops into position.

“What did you mishear? Don’t withdraw, push forward first and clear any jammed rounds!”

“You there, what’s your assigned duty? Well? Then why are you still sitting here blathering? Your position is over there, so get moving!”

“Maintain formation! Lone wolves charging the humans risk encirclement and annihilation! Always remember, this isn’t like old times – a single stray round can kill you now!”

Unbeknownst to the officers who issued him this weapon, it was a modified railgun with cost disregarded.

While complex urban environments might compromise stealth, a suppressor had been installed to render it virtually silent amidst the cacophony of gunfire and artillery barrages.

Output limits had also been loosened; a single hit sufficed without requiring multiple shots. Any struck Demon would unlikely return to that battlefield.

Squeezing the trigger produced a muffled thump.

Yet the Demon grunt mere paces away remained oblivious.

Moments later, one officer’s head burst open.

---

Something seemed amiss.

A tangibly different atmosphere from usual.

“Perhaps the kingdom troops are simply overconfident from never facing us properly before?”

“No, it’s definitely something else, though I can’t pinpoint it.”

“They’re still human, regardless. Their armaments seem a bit improved, understandable given their reprieve.”

“Why this unease, sir? Let’s simply trample them swiftly – Command has been hounding us about our sluggish pace as is.”

“…You’re right, it must have been my imagination. The conditions, perhaps.”

Until combat commenced, the source of that vague disquiet eluded articulation.

Dwelling would merely breed cowardice, so the perturbed Demons dismissed it as meteorological mood shifts.

Deferring with ‘it’ll work out somehow.’

This unease, whose essence materialized as the battle’s contours emerged, ultimately revealed itself.

“Argh, aaargghh!”

“Ugh, leg’s bleeding! Falling back for now. Good luck, you rabble!”

“Don’t retreat here! If we all scatter, we’ll lose formation comple–”

“Aahh, my arm! My arm!!”

One factor was the humans’ upgraded weapons and equipment.

Not just the kingdom but even Belfast troops were now wielding gleaming new firearms.

Their attire seemed enhanced too, accompanied by ample medical supplies in tow. Elite units, perhaps.

-Whirrrrr-

“That… What is that thing?”

“A car, isn’t it? Humans frequently use those for transport. But why bring such an expensive vehicle to the front? Unless they intend abandoning it as an obstacle?”

“Didn’t seem like any models I’ve seen, though. And that elongated protrusion at the front… could it be?”

-Fwoosh!-

Flames erupted as agonized screams followed, the projectile gouging a lengthy furrow in the earth.

Demons familiar with rumored human armaments momentarily froze upon witnessing this unfamiliar implement.

Up to this point, their rationale remained comprehensible.

Weapons? Of course they would advance during the interim.

That was precisely why they had attacked before the humans could further develop them.

Armored vehicles impervious to standard munitions? Fair, they hadn’t anticipated that particular innovation.

But the source of the Demons’ visceral disquiet, that premonition they couldn’t articulate, stemmed from this very revelation.

-Bang!-

“Gguurgh…?!”

“The battalion commander! Our battalion commander is down!”

For reasons unknown, Demonic officers with command authority dropped in droves.

Too coincidental to dismiss as chance, it appeared someone was sniping them, quite possibly using the very railguns they had procured as super-weapons.

Tragically, even rigorously trained Demons proved unable to deflect such rounds.

“Does this make me the new battalion commander?”

“Shut your trap, the next is– By seniority, that would be–”

-Bang!-

“Gggaacckk…!”

“The platoon leader too?!”

“So am I the platoon leader now?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake…”

Demons unaccustomed to such comprehensive leadership vacuums crumbled in disarray.

---

Edan and Freugne lacked the fortitude to slumber soundly with their entire fortunes riding on this gambit.

Truthfully, none prohibited such indulgence, but with humanity’s future itself at stake, they could only maintain vigils.

While preparedness proved crucial in warfare, the most meticulously prepared force still required morale to advance.

The Demons had gained mobility at the cost of restraint, while the humans had tempered their spirit slightly for comprehensive readiness.

And if this audacious Glasgow counteroffensive faltered, a demoralized Freugne bereft of offensive momentum would need to drastically revise strategies, dedicating efforts towards defense instead.

“…How did it go?”

“The battle isn’t entirely concluded yet, but the initial defensive was successful, reportedly.”

“And Erinne’s unit?”

“Unscathed.”

The first hurdle had been cleared.

By now, the Demons likely dismissed this as a temporary setback easily overcome, just as they had previously.

In Belfast, and before that in Londinium.

“Victory often dances mockingly amidst such repercussions, does it not?”

“It would benefit us if they remain complacent for now.”

“Indeed. But we should ponder methods to perpetuate that complacency later.”

By this stage, certain maneuvers became inevitable.

Advancing towards Antrim was no longer feasible.

Yet dismissing the overzealous Demonic commanders outright proved equally unfeasible.

“It seems direct intervention is required.”

Faced with that assessment, the pivotal decision-maker’s elimination became the sole recourse.

Fortuitously, contingencies had been prepared for that contingency.

Awakening from her stupor amidst the silence, Sithe abruptly roused, surveying her surroundings with bewilderment.