Total War 2

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The unidentified liquid filled the egg. Inside, Satan was curled up like a fetus, his eyes closed as if asleep.

The egg continuously received demonic aura from the outside. An immense amount of aura flowed into the egg, and Satan’s body greedily absorbed it, devouring the power. His body gradually transformed.

Having entered a pseudo-sleep state for intensive level-up, he wandered through the unconscious realm as if dreaming.

With all his senses and reason blocked, only his innate nature and emotions remained within.

Memories include emotions. Satan reminisced.

Strangely, the most vivid memories from his life spanning thousands of years were all events that had occurred within the past 200 years – memories involving Razvolnic.

Memories of being defeated countless times by the overwhelmingly powerful Razvolnic. The memory of failing to protect his precious Demon Lord. Memories of being brutalized, even having his eyes gouged out.

In the unconscious, hatred and rage swirled violently. Despite his lack of consciousness, he bared his menacing fangs and emitted a threatening growl:

“Grrrrr…”

Within the unconscious realm where only hatred and a murderous nature remained, the will to kill that one man flared intensely.

Simultaneously, the will to protect the precious one he had already lost once also burned fiercely.

This force of will caused Satan to unleash an anomaly.

Witnessing this, the Demon Lord was filled with admiration.

[…Greater than I imagined.]

The violet egg glowed brilliantly. As she placed her hand on its surface, demonic aura was drawn from her.

Inside the egg she watched, the once-small boy’s form had vanished, replaced by a monstrous entity that had grown large enough to fill the entire space, its appearance now grotesque.

Satan’s body continued to expand in real-time as it absorbed the aura.

Unprecedentedly, the Demon Lord directly infused her vast demonic aura into Satan.

Originally, intensive level-ups did not occur in this manner, for no mortal could withstand her full power.

However, the Demon Lord had decided to expend Satan as a one-time pawn in this war. Thus, despite knowing it would lead to his demise, she directly infused him with power to exhaust Razvolnic’s strength before a glorious destruction. Of course, Satan had accepted this as well.

Yet Satan displayed an anomaly beyond her imagination.

[To endure this much…]

It would have been unsurprising if he had burst and perished long ago from the sheer amount of power, yet Satan only continued growing stronger without end.

How far could he go? The calculated limit had been surpassed long ago. Still, there were no signs of collapse from Satan. The Demon Lord continued infusing him with power.

[At this level…]

Perhaps, instead of her whose movements were constrained by the rules, he might be able to achieve the feat of slaying the warriors.

Originally, she had not even dared to expect this, but now Satan was performing beyond her imagination.

His will was creating a miracle to serve the Great Demon Lord’s command.

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The enemy is approaching—!!

Doyun rose from the bed and donned his attire.

He retrieved his cloak from his subspace, the elegant gray cloak fluttering as it settled on his shoulders.

Extending both arms, he inserted his hands into the open holes on either side. His hands emerging from the holes were encased in jet-black gauntlets with a metallic sheen.

Clank, clank!

The thick gauntlets made metallic sounds as they resized to fit his hands perfectly.

From the twelve spears in his subspace, he pulled out four and slung them across his back. He tied his sword’s sheath to his waist.

Having completed his full armament with top-tier items, Doyun took a step forward and spoke solemnly:

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Dokkomuyoung, composed as ever, followed him out of the room.

“Prepare for battle!”

“Move, move quickly!”

“Cavalry, this way!”

Outside, countless soldiers bustled about, preparing for combat. Doyun strode through their midst with a grave expression.

Before heading to the battlefield, Doyun entered another room.

Upon opening the door and stepping inside the dark, unlit chamber, he saw a skeleton seated on the bed.

The skeleton gazed up at Doyun with azure flaming eyes and moved its jawbone.

“Impressive.”

A brief observation from Vyuskr towards his friend Enoch Razvolnic, who had acquired a new body and armed himself as the Supreme Commander.

His friend truly shone brightest when taking the field as the embodiment of the Alliance itself – a long-held belief.

“Kill those bastards and come back.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The skeleton clicked its skull.

Vyuskr would not participate in the early stages of the war, remaining here instead. His task was to absorb the power of the countless lives lost on the battlefield as the war unfolded.

“Rampage out there. So I can show you a lot.”

He spoke in a grating voice. There were no farewells or well-wishes as his friend departed for the battlefield.

He could not even imagine his friend dying on that battlefield. That was the kind of man his friend was.

Doyun nodded and turned to leave the room.

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room Vyuskr had gestured towards.

Another swordsman sat with his eyes closed, focused in concentration.

It was Brudhild, the warrior and Vyuskr’s son.

In the dark, unlit room, Brudhild’s eyes flashed open, his flickering gaze fixed in the direction of the impending battlefield.

‘The battlefield where I’ll stand alongside my father.’

He had taken that battlefield countless times over the past hundred years, but this time, he sensed something different.

His swordsman’s intuition told him:

‘Perhaps today…’

Today might be the day he fulfills his father’s dream.

Feeling the cool chill of his sword, Brudhild steeled his mind.

His will, fueled by his father’s presence, shone vividly in his azure eyes.

“Move the ballistae! This way…!”

“Infantry forces, under the walls…”

Doyun walked forward, towards the battlefield.

A soldier came running and knelt beside Doyun’s path.

In his respectfully extended hands was an extremely long spear, and attached to it, a large banner – the symbol of the Alliance.

Without sparing a glance, Doyun accepted it as he walked and slung it over his shoulder, the Alliance banner fluttering behind him.

Soon, like the soldier who had handed him the banner-spear, countless soldiers and knights knelt along his path to show respect to the Supreme Commander, the warrior.

Among them, Doyun continued walking, his gaze fixed ahead.

As time passed and all the soldiers completed their battle preparations, leaving the fortress silent, a faint tremor could be felt from the ground where the soldiers had formed rows.

Gugugugug…

“…Gulp.”

Someone swallowed nervously. As everyone could sense, this was the tremor of the Demon Lord’s forces marching.

Given their absence from view, they were likely still at a distance. Yet their footsteps transmitted tremors that reached here, as if proclaiming their sheer numbers.

The tremors, unnerving to all, caused the knights and soldiers’ bodies to tense.

After what felt like an eternity, the enemy forces finally began appearing beyond the horizon.

Soldiers scouting from atop the walls and watchtowers let out hushed breaths.

“Whoa…”

“…Insane.”

Having witnessed a glimpse of the immense calamity, they grew oddly calm, even dazed, as they muttered:

“So that’s… the Demon Lord’s forces…”

Not the mere tens of thousands of dragonkin they had faced thus far. An army that could not be stopped by mere walls and delusions of defense.

This was the Demon Lord’s full might. The true Demon Lord’s forces, in all their glory.

The army of annihilation that had terrorized the continent for hundreds of years.

As the ocean-like horde of black dragonkin consumed the entire horizon, finally allowing all soldiers beyond the scouts to behold their form, someone murmured despairingly:

“…Can we win?”

Words a soldier should never utter, yet the words spilled from his feeble voice as if an idle remark, overwhelmed by the enemy’s sheer numbers.

And for good reason – their centuries of history clearly attested to their despair. That was an invincible force of destruction.

Yet simultaneously, another history… no, a myth, spoke to them.

The footsteps of a living myth echoed through the silent fortress.

Thump, thump, thump.

He walked, the focus of everyone’s gaze.

Thump, thump. Thump.

And finally, he ascended the walls.

The ash-gray cloak billowed behind him. The four long spears strapped to his back glinted.

He planted the banner-spear he had slung over his shoulder into the wall’s floor. The large banner depicting the Alliance’s symbol fluttered in the wind.

The soldiers all gazed at his back as he stood before them.

His back obscured the oncoming black ocean. Though it filled the entire horizon, his back was vast enough to conceal it all. A mountain larger than the sea itself.

The man standing before the sea, Enoch Razvolnic, spoke:

“We will be victorious. As we were a hundred years ago.”

The living myth told them:

“I will deliver you all.”

The final, total war that would decide the Alliance’s annihilation or salvation had begun.