Napoleon II was undoubtedly a capable emperor. In fact, all three emperors of the world's great powers were competent rulers, facing a common enemy far beyond human comprehension.
With humanity teetering on the brink of survival and malevolent Evil Gods lurking across the sea, indulging in decadent excess would be suicidal.
Who wouldn't dream of being a frivolous monarch, free from responsibility, feasting on delicacies daily while surrounded by a harem of three thousand beauties? Yet, regardless of Napoleon II's personal desires, reality offered him no such luxury.
On a smaller scale, the survival of the French Empire rested squarely on his shoulders. On a grander scale, the fall of France would endanger neighboring Great Britain and Great Ming, jeopardizing the very existence of humanity. The weight of this responsibility was immense.
Unlike his father, Napoleon the Great, Napoleon II was no legendary hero. Lacking extraordinary talent, he would gladly relinquish his throne to a true visionary—one capable of ushering in greater prosperity for the Empire and leading humanity to victory against the Evil Gods.
In truth, even if Herta hadn't arrived, evacuating all civilians to the nearest cities would have been the optimal solution. Yet Napoleon II dared not issue such an order. Instead, he opted for the seemingly safest and most conventional approach: deploying troops to fortify coastal defenses.
He couldn't risk overstepping. A single misstep might brand him as the one who "brought about humanity's destruction."
Seated upon his throne, Napoleon II trembled each time news arrived of a village being attacked or casualties mounting in some distant region. Yet he dared not betray his inner cowardice, for countless souls had placed their hopes upon his shoulders.
If he abandoned that hope now, what would the people of France have left to rely on?
Countless times, Napoleon II wished he were merely an ordinary man. Then he could pick up a weapon and fight those cultists himself, even if it meant dying in battle, rather than sitting on this cold throne, helplessly listening to the stream of dreadful reports.
So, when Little Herta spoke, a flicker of hope ignited in the weary eyes of the aging king, now past fifty. "Just who exactly are you...?"
In response to their questions, Little Herta calmly stated, "Just a witch from another world. No need to worry—leave it to me. I'll protect this world."
After a pause, Napoleon II replied in a slightly hoarse voice, "Very well..."
The Emperor's command was swiftly relayed. Ironically, his earlier orders to deploy troops to the southern coast now hindered their response. The main French forces were already en route, leaving Paris with only Napoleon II's Imperial Guard and a handful of Secret Keepers to defend it.
Without hesitation, Napoleon II declared, "All Imperial Guard—prepare to depart immediately!"
"But..." The commander of the Imperial Guard naturally protested. If they all left, the capital would be undefended. What if monsters appeared now? Who would protect the city? Who would protect His Majesty the King?
However, Napoleon II's resolve was unshakable. "This is an order!"
The Imperial Guard numbered ten thousand strong, each soldier among the most elite in the empire. Half of them were Artificial Corrupted, individuals with exceptionally strong wills. By any measure, this was a formidable fighting force.
But considering the French Empire's vast territory spanning all of Europe, ten thousand troops seemed woefully inadequate. Assigning them the task of escorting civilians to cities was simply impossible.
Therefore, their mission wasn't escorting, but relaying orders.
Above Africa, Herta Herself used the Chat Group's teleportation function to continuously summon Herta Puppets. As soon as each puppet materialized, it immediately departed for Paris.
The ten thousand Imperial Guards had already been divided into one thousand ten-man squads. A Herta Puppet landed beside each squad and calmly announced, "When you're ready, I'll transport you to your designated city."
Almost simultaneously, the ten guards nodded resolutely and declared, "We're ready, Madam Herta!"
The puppet nodded and used Wind magic to lift the squad into the air. Its destination was a coastal city in the south. Having learned from David's previous experience, Herta had specifically adjusted the magic to minimize motion sickness.
As they drew closer to their destination, Featherless Birds gradually appeared in the Herta Puppet's field of vision. At first, there were only a few scattered individuals, but soon their numbers swelled to dozens, then hundreds, forming a dense, swirling mass in the sky. Naturally, the monsters spotted the Herta Puppet as well.
The ten Imperial Guard soldiers being towed through the air by the puppet couldn't help but tense up. With the monsters closing in and their bodies completely at the mercy of the puppet's magic, they would be utterly helpless in an aerial battle.
Worse still, they couldn't shake the fear that even if they weren't targeted directly, a strike against the puppet might cause her magic to falter momentarily, sending them plummeting to their deaths.
A normal Magician could theoretically only cast one spell at a time, but the Herta Puppet wasn't human and thus unconstrained by such limitations. Could the computational power of an ordinary human brain truly compare to that of a machine?
Just as the puppet prepared to unleash a magical attack, the Featherless Birds scattered in terror, as if they had sighted a natural predator. They fled without looking back, showing no intention of closing the distance.
That was it. The Bird-Shaped Evil God's command was clear: avoid Herta and attack humans. Though the Featherless Birds couldn't comprehend why they were encountering Herta again after fleeing the battlefield, they relentlessly carried out the order.
Soon, the Puppet arrived at its destination: Talin City. The sky above the city had once been teeming with Featherless Birds, their dense formations nearly obscuring the entire expanse. Civilians who dared to look up saw nothing but the grotesque creatures, a scene straight out of the apocalypse.
Trapped in their homes, people desperately barricaded doors and windows with furniture, huddled in corners, listening to the relentless pounding outside and the occasional agonizing screams. Heads bowed, they silently prayed.
"God... save me..."
Then, in an instant, all sound vanished. The pounding of monsters against buildings, the flapping of wings—everything ceased. The entire world seemed to fall silent.