DMZ
Dawn crept over the ruined DMZ village. Most of the fire had already gone, leaving only pillars of thin gray smoke. Some of the rangers could be seen performing perimeter checks, just to make sure no more raiders were in the area.
Inside a Humvee, Ivy sat wrapped in a blanket, cradling a hot drink. A Murica medic kept checking her pulse despite Ivy insisting she was "fine—just shaken."
A few meters away, Bella lay against a tire, exhausted, staring at Ivy from a distance.
"Here," Captain Irving said, handing her a cup of coffee while tearing into his MRE.
"Captain… will I ever be promoted? He yelled at me for fifteen minutes. Fifteen," Bella muttered, remembering her angry commander who scolded her over the radio for a full quarter of an hour.
Irving took a slow, exaggerated bite of his MRE.
"…this chili mac is good," the captain answered.
"You're ignoring my question."
"I am."
Bella deflated. "Huff… maybe I should just go back to my parents' farm. They live in the South, so I think they didn't watch the broadcast."
"One of the film crew told me the broadcast is being relayed by a thing called a satellite from space, so it reaches the whole country," Irving said calmly, "South included."
"Noooo…" Bella could only cover her face, feeling ashamed.
"Oh, cheer up. The war has just gotten started," Irving said, patting her shoulder. "Plenty of chances to redeem yourself."
"Sigh… you're right."
She slapped both her cheeks to wake herself up.
"I can do this! There's plenty of enemy to kill to make Mom and Dad proud—"
"HEEEEY!! OVER HERE!" a scream came from afar.
The voice made Bella reflexively aim her machine gun in its direction. Apparently, it was some of the survivors. A member of Jehovah's Accusess waved wildly to Bella from across the rubble, with Thug A, Thug C, and several other survivors trailing behind him.
"See? I told you!" the zealot boasted. "My Demon God would deliver us salvation!"
"Ah, you're right; after this I promise I will become one of your members," Thug A said.
Captain Irving raised an eyebrow while continuing to eat his MRE. "Another survivor?"
"Looks like it," Bella said, waving. "HEEEY! YOU GUUUYS!!"
They waved back.
"I'M SOOORRY—BUT ORDERS SAID ONLY ONE SURVIVOR IS ALLOWED~D!" Bella yelled, cocking her M240L.
"WHAAT?" The survivors cupped their ears, trying to hear clearly.
RATATATATATATATATATATATATATA
The survivor group fell lifeless to the ground, silenced by Bella's hail of bullets.
Captain Irving finished his MRE, dusted off his hands, and stood. "Well, I guess that's the last of it. We better bail out of here before the party starts."
"What party?" Bella asked.
Captain Irving pointed behind her.
A few kilometers away, silhouettes of a massive army slowly encroached across the horizon from left to right, pouring over the landscape like a living tide—a spectacular view that brought menace to everyone who watched.
Bella swallowed. "Oh my… I don't have enough bullets for this."
---
The Black House
Solo and Lilith were having a morning meeting with the Minister of Finance and Trade, Mammon, and the Minister of Defense, Satan. Everyone was in an absurdly good mood.
"I still can't get over last night's show!" Lilith beamed. "Satellites are amazing!"
"Exactly. Even though there were a few hiccups, it was great for military recruitment," Stan added proudly.
"The rating itself hit a record-breaking 32 million viewers," Mammon grinned. "This is the most pay-per-view in Murican history! HAHAHAHA."
"Wow—nearly half the country," Solo said.
Mammon puffed out his chest. Originally, the feed was just for internal military use, but he had loudly argued that not monetizing it was a criminal waste of satellite potential. Solo eventually agreed, seeing the tech promotion benefits for the upcoming public internet.
"Belphy did great," Solo said. He hesitated. "Some scenes were… intense. But I guess I've seen worse on Earth."
Solo thought this was the first time in this world he had seen humans being killed. Somehow, his human side didn't feel anything. He wondered if it was because he was already used to living with demons, or maybe because, in his past life as a journalist, he had already seen the same—or even worse—atrocities committed by his fellow humans.
"And the marketing was excellent—Luke's promotion numbers skyrocketed," Mammon said matter-of-factly.
Satan leaned forward with a smirk. "Well! Since you got your precious revenue spike, you won't complain about how I use the taxpayers' money in the upcoming battle, right?"
"…"
Stan smiled at Mammon. "Come on. A deal is a deal."
Mammon clicked his tongue but nodded. "…Tch, fine. Just don't go overboard with the expensive things."
Knock. Knock.
An aide interrupted the meeting.
"Excuse me, sirs, madam. We just received a message from the Vandoria–Ravendawn coalition. They agreed to hold a negotiation talk by noon."
"Speak of the devil. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make," Stan said, standing and leaving the room.
---
DMZ
The center of the ruined DMZ had become a meeting point. Hannya stood calmly, flanked by Rangers. She was now face‑to‑face with the Vandoria–Ravendawn representatives—Duke Pierre and his knights. Behind them stretched an endless army filling the horizon, ready for war.
"Hey, demon girl. Where is Leviathan?" Duke Pierre demanded.
"His Excellency is currently arranging diplomatic drafts for other kingdoms," Hannya replied. "So I'm here to represent him and the Murica Foreign Office. We demand that you pull your army back from our border and issue an apology for the atrocities committed in this village—killing innocent civilians and dozens of Murican citizens, and leaving only one poor survivor…"
Duke Pierre frowned. One? He had specifically ordered the mercenaries to leave a few dozen alive to spread fear. Someone was going to get demoted—violently.
"So the Demon Duke is not here?"
"…No. He is not," Hannya said. "We also demand reparations for this act of aggression. The list will be delivered at a later date."
"Reparations?" Duke Pierre could no longer hold back his laughter. "HUAHAHAHAHA! Ohh, are you blind? Can't you see how utterly defeated you are? My army covers the horizon, ready to crush you, and yet not a single Demon Duke stands here? Hahahaha!"
Hannya watched him coldly, silent, letting the Duke finish his laughter.
"Oohh, heh heh. I was ready for the worst, but the Goddess's blessing is truly remarkable," he said as he pulled out a parchment. "But regardless, I stand here as a noble representing my kingdom. I bring our list of demands—if you want me to halt the invasion."
Hannya skimmed the page. "Two hundred thousand gold… eighty thousand skilled‑labor slaves… fifty thousand female slaves… and full submission to Vandoria as a vassal state…"
"Yes, yes. I see your attempt to portray the Demon Kingdom as civilized, and I acknowledge that," Pierre smirked. "But I also see that you've turned to diplomacy because your kind has grown weaker than you were millennia ago!"
He jabbed a finger toward Hannya.
"The world will soon learn of your weakness. Still, Vandoria is generous. We will help you become civilized by taking you as a vassal and shielding you from other kingdoms that might wish to raze you entirely."
"I'm bored of watching you witless beasts play at politics."
He scoffed.
Then he snapped.
"SUBMIT, OR MY ARMY WILL SWEEP YOUR BORDER! AND MARK MY WORDS—WE WILL BE MORE TERRIFYING THAN ANY DEMON COULD EVER DREAM OF BEING!... AND WILL YOU STOP POINTING THAT DAMN THING AT ME!?" Duke Pierre screamed at the cameraman—and at Belphy, who had been recording the entire time.
"Oh—ah, please, don't mind us," Belphy said, performing a theatrical chef's kiss. "Your presence is magnificent. Stay in it."
Pierre sputtered.
"...Whatever. I GIVE YOU UNTIL THE END OF THE DAY TO SUBMIT!" Duke Pierre continued.
"...And cut! That's a wrap," Belphy said, sighing in relief.
The camera crew and Rangers clapped in celebration, leaving Duke Pierre and his knights dumbfounded.
"For the international version, please deliver it to our office before the weekend," Hannya reminded Belphy.
"Tch. Your office and its deadlines," Belphy replied as he packed his things.
Hannya and Belphy continued their conversation while walking away from the DMZ, completely ignoring the duke.
"W—WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS!?" Pierre bellowed. "ARE YOU IGNORING ME!? AND WHY DID YOU TOSS THAT ON THE GROUND LIKE TRASH!?"
He pointed at the parchment Hannya had deliberately thrown aside.
"Ah, that?" Hannya said calmly. "Like you said—it's trash. Why would I waste my time, or my boss's, with trash that holds no value?"
"You want to know why it's trash?" she continued. "Because the ones presenting it will, by day's end, be nothing but lumps of meat."
Hannya sighed before speaking again.
"Fine, here's something unclassified: yes, our demonic capabilities have weakened, but by our own choice. With our current technology, every soldier in our military is ten times deadlier than ever. Now, if you'll excuse me, I hope you have a nice day."
She gave a courteous bow with a smirk before turning away and leaving Duke Pierre behind.
"H—HOW DARE YOU!?" the duke roared. "I HAVE DECLARED WAR ON THE DEMON KINGDOM! WAR! I WILL RAZE EVERY INCH OF YOUR LAND!"
He continued hurling insults and threats as the demon contingent left the DMZ without a single glance back.
---
Moments later, at the rear of the Vandoria–Ravendawn coalition's main army, Duke Pierre entered his tent—an extravagant pavilion that looked more suited for a royal banquet than a battlefield command post. Inside, Archbishop Antonio, Archmage Durac, Prince Luxius, and several senior officers were already gathered around a sprawling war map.
"Those insolent demons," Duke Pierre scoffed as he crossed the room and sank into a throne‑like seat at the center of the tent. "I was a fool to believe they could comprehend basic manners."
A beastman slave stepped forward and filled the duke's goblet with wine, bowing low before retreating.
"So they refused our offer," Archmage Durac said.
Prince Luxius folded his arms. "Then what is the plan?"
Duke Pierre gave a slow exhale. "Contact the wyvern corps. Tell them to prepare for immediate deployment. All units will focus on eliminating hostile forces surrounding the Great Demon Gate. We cannot allow the demons to retreat and seal it."
He paused, eyes narrowing as he considered the map.
"Additionally," he continued, "destroy any aerial transport on sight. If the demons attempt to airlift troops into our rear using their so‑called Hell Dragonflies, we intercept and erase them before they land."
"Yes, sir," an officer replied.
Pierre leaned back slightly, swirling the wine in his goblet.
"Ground forces assemble now. Beastmen and mercenaries will take the vanguard. And before anyone questions me—the Ravendawn army marches with them."
"What of the Demon Duke Leviathan?" Archbishop Antonio asked.
"Their diplomats claim he is absent," Pierre said. "It may be deception. We proceed regardless. Archbishop, ensure your holy knights are prepared."
Antonio placed a hand over his chest, faint light shimmering around his gauntlet. "My knights stand eternally ready to smite evil."
"Good." Pierre's gaze shifted to Luxius. "And you, prince, will command your troops forward. I will hear no objection."
Prince Luxius stiffened, jaw tightening. "…Understood."
Pierre rose from his seat, his cape brushing the ground.
"Excellent. We launch the assault in three hours."
---
After the briefing, Prince Luxius went back to his own tent. It was a humble structure compared to the Duke of Vandoria's lavish pavilion. Before entering, he scanned the surroundings to ensure no Vandorian personnel were nearby.
"Meja, make sure no one gets close to my tent," Prince Luxius ordered his guard.
"Yes, Your Highness," the guard replied.
Inside the tent, the prince rummaged through his wardrobe chest. He retrieved a satellite phone, pressed the auto‑dial button, and waited until the call connected.
"This is Luxius," he said in a low voice. "The attack will start in three hours, exactly as he predicted. They want us to be the vanguard."
Ravendawn, Raven Castle
Meeting Room
"…Understood, Your Highness," came the reply.
Archmage Gregor lowered his satellite phone and sighed after hearing Prince Luxius's report. He then turned around, facing King Luxtor and Leviathan.
King Luxtor, having overheard the conversation, looked visibly furious at the news that his only son would be sent to the front lines as cannon fodder.
"Well, Your Majesty," Leviathan said with a faint smile, "it is time for your decision. Are you prepared to make a pact with the devils?"
Luxtor's expression hardened. He remained silent, but his anger simmered beneath the surface.
---
Forward Operating Base (FOB) Doors
The base buzzed with controlled chaos. Vehicles rolled out, and units moved into position. From the opposite direction, a motorcade of Humvees entered the base and stopped in front of the command center. Stan hopped out with a confident grin and marched inside.
"Glad I still made it in time," Stan said. "Hanz, what's on your playbook today?"
General Hanz and his officers delivered a crisp salute.
"Nothing extravagant, sir," Hanz replied, gesturing toward the officer at the tactical display. "Since the enemy intended to overrun us with sheer numbers, we chose a conventional strategy."
The battlefield map illuminated the screen.
"We began with the F‑16 corps for phase one," the officer explained, pointing at the wyvern stronghold. "Three hundred wyverns were too many to engage directly, so we planned to cripple their base in the first sortie and eliminate any remaining forces in the second."
Stan nodded.
"Once air superiority was secured," the officer continued, "the Apaches and Abrams battalions would advance for a synchronized ground‑air assault. We prepared a flanking maneuver along the enemy's main line to break their formation before they could organize a proper defense."
"Good," Stan said. "Attach the Vulcan units to the armored divisions. Their avian fighters will target our armor if we leave them unchecked."
"Yes, sir," Hanz confirmed. "And regarding the Ministry of Culture's directive to ensure the Great Demon Gate remained undamaged, we placed our primary defensive line several miles ahead of it."
Stan exhaled in approval, the grin never leaving his face.
"Now for my main question," he said, leaning closer to the map, "where do you need me?"