In the Eastern Empire, the title Marshal was synonymous with the strongest. Only a handful of her closest subordinates knew her true identity. To everyone else, she was a nameless, untouchable force who stood at the Emperor's side as his ultimate protector.
When she spoke, the entire room froze.
The councilors, officers, and commanders gathered inside the imperial strategic chamber dropped to the floor instantly, prostrating themselves like puppets whose strings had been cut.
From behind the bamboo blind above them, her calm yet chilling voice flowed like a blade.
"What is this nonsense about Veldora? He disrupted our last Great Expedition. But tell me—"
Her voice sharpened.
"—did it shake the Empire?"
" " "No, ma'am!!" " "
"Of course it didn't. This Empire carries the blessing of His Great Majesty."
" " "Yes, ma'am!!" " "
The atmosphere grew so heavy that no one dared breathe too loudly.
Her presence wasn't explosive—it was inescapable. Like an invisible pressure that crushed resistance before it even formed.
Her attention shifted.
"Gadra."
"Yes, ma'am!" he answered instantly, trembling.
"You advise caution. You always advise caution. Tell me—why has the Empire not made a move since the Storm Dragon revived?"
Gadra swallowed hard.
"It's because we were not prepared—"
"Wrong."
Her scorn cut through him.
"It is because fools like you use fear of the past as an excuse."
"Ye–yes ma'am!"
Her words landed like hammer blows on their pride.
Deep down, every officer knew she was right. Gadra included.
But today… something felt different.
Why is she so agitated?
Gadra had known her true identity longer than most. She was normally calm, distant—cold, yes, but never impatient.
Yet today she felt… tense.
And that made Gadra uneasy.
The Marshal continued her assault.
"Negotiations with King Gazel of Dwargon will not go smoothly. That is obvious. So why insist on this foolish idea?"
Gadra's heart clenched.
"Are you trying to impede the Empire's supremacy?"
Her voice was soft.
Too soft.
But it felt like a blade pressed against his throat.
"N-no! Of course not!"
He could barely breathe.
Has she figured it out?
Her instincts were terrifying.
Her insight was inhuman.
For the first time, Gadra questioned everything about the Empire.
And about the Emperor himself.
Calgurio Steps Forward
The Marshal shifted focus.
"Calgurio."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"You believe you can defeat Veldora. Correct?"
"Yes ma'am! Our victory is assured!"
"Then explain your plan."
"Th-that's…"
Calgurio froze.
His rehearsed confidence evaporated under the weight of her presence.
He did have a plan—one he'd built over years.
He simply never expected to be forced to justify it under oppressive scrutiny.
Dragons, in Calgurio's mind, were nothing more than living masses of magicules. Dangerous, yes, but manageable.
He explained—haltingly—how the Empire's technological might gave them total advantage:
• Magic Cancelers
Devices that scrambled magicules, disrupting spells and weakening monsters.
• Magic Tanks
Each equipped with a magic gun capable of annihilating an A-rank monster in one hit.
• High-Speed Airships
Capable of speeds beyond Mach 1, unreachable by biological creatures.
He described how they would:
Lure Veldora into a forest rigged with cancelers
Immobilize him using airship beams
Finish him with magic tank volleys
His voice trembled as he presented it.
He had been so sure.
So confident.
But now…
Under the Marshal's gaze…
It felt childish.
Her reply was cold and merciless.
"How incompetent."
Calgurio's blood ran cold.
"What will you do after destroying Veldora?"
"Huh…?"
His mind blanked.
"You misunderstood the Empire's inaction. It was not due to lack of preparation."
Her authority filled every corner of the hall.
**"We waited because we intend to defeat the Storm Dragon properly—
and make His Imperial Majesty's might known to the world."**
Silence crushed the room.
Gadra trembled.
She's serious… she actually intends it…
Her plan wasn't simply to kill Veldora.
It was to control him.
Madness.
Absolute, terrifying madness.
The Marshal's Presence… or Something More?
Gadra stared numbly at the bamboo blind.
Beyond it…
A silhouette.
A shape that should not exist.
Elegant. Terrifying. Not human.
For a moment—a brief, horrifying moment—he imagined the figure of a True Dragon standing there in human form.
He shook his head violently.
Impossible.
And yet…
The fear lingered.
"Well then… I would like to propose a plan," Calgurio said, forcing confidence into his voice.
"Proceed," came the Marshal's cold, glacial command.
He explained the situation clearly:
The Armored Corps must enter the Great Jura Forest from the east.
Atem, Demon Lord of Eterna, had his forces gathering near the Great Ameld River.
He had fortified an inn town on the frontier and placed it under strict guard.
But the Empire had a problem—marching to the inn town risked passing too close to Dwargon, and King Gazel was known to have a strong alliance with Atem.
"If we march along the river, we risk provoking Dwargon," Calgurio argued.
"We would be wedged between two nations—Atem's Eterna and Gazel's kingdom. Our supply lines would be vulnerable. Even our airships wouldn't be able to resupply if we cannot secure a base camp."
His logic was sound.
"Therefore," he continued, "we avoid the main roads. We march through the forest instead."
The room buzzed with murmurs.
But the Marshal cut them down instantly.
"That is inadequate," she said.
Her voice was calm—but it froze the blood of everyone listening.
She allowed the debate to continue, but the officers could feel her displeasure growing behind the blind.
Calgurio swallowed and continued presenting alternatives.
Calgurio took a risk.
"We should strike Dwargon. If negotiations with Gazel fail, then he is not an ally. A hostile kingdom has no right to exist."
Shock spread across the room.
"Are you insane?!"
"Dwargon is an armed fortress!"
"We could win, but the destruction—!"
Arguments exploded.
But Calgurio pushed through.
"Dwargon's defenses are magic-based. If we deploy our magic tanks and cancelers, we can neutralize their greatest strength. If we remove their defenses, they will fall."
Silence returned as officers began considering the terrifying logic.
A strategy formed in their minds:
Pretend to target Atem's frontier base
Swing around through the Great Jura Forest
Strike Dwargon Central with the tank division
Cut Atem off from reinforcements
Calgurio concluded:
"If Dwargon is in crisis, Atem will have no choice but to act. And if we prepare the battlefield in advance, we will intercept him."
"That," said the Marshal, "is acceptable."
Her approval made everyone stiffen.
She continued:
"Calgurio. You will handle all operations regarding Demon Lord Atem."
The room froze.
This was no small assignment. It was a declaration:
Calgurio is responsible for facing the King of Games himself.
Calgurio bowed, suppressing a shiver.
"Yes, ma'am."
"This alone is not enough," she said.
"To pressure Dwargon, the Mixed Corps will attack from the east. The commander of that corps will also defend the capital. Prepare accordingly."
The Mixed Corps commander nodded stiffly, swallowing his protests.
Then the last remaining commander lost his composure.
"P-please wait!" roared Beast King Gladium.
"Does this mean my Magic Beast Corps will not participate in the main war?! My corps is the strongest in individual combat! We must not be left behind!"
He was desperate—nearly frantic at the idea of being denied glory.
The Marshal laughed softly.
A sound more terrifying than a roar.
"Calm yourself, fool. I have prepared a battlefield worthy of your corps."
Gladium's eyes shone with hope.
"What is my mission, Marshal?"
"You will lead the entire Magic Beast Corps
north."
"N-north?! Are you telling me to cross the Canaat Mountains?!"
"That is correct," she replied.
"You will descend from the mountains and invade Ingracia by sea. The Kingdom of Farmenas can be erased once Dwargon falls."
Gladium froze in shock.
"B-but our Empire doesn't have battleships for such transport—"
"We have something better," the Marshal said.
"Calgurio."
He stepped forward reluctantly.
"Y-yes, ma'am. As the Marshal said, we have developed a new state-of-the-art weapon. An 'Airship.' With the Air Assault Division, transporting the Magic Beast Corps across the sea is entirely possible."
The hall erupted.
Three hundred airships.
Sixty thousand warriors.
A direct strike at the Western Nations.
The implications were monstrous.
Calgurio raised a hand.
"However, since airships are essential for fighting the Storm Dragon, we can only assist with transport—not battle."
Gladium wasn't bothered.
"A battlefield is a battlefield. Leave the rest to us!"
The hall roared with ecstatic shouts:
"We will win!"
"Victory belongs to the Empire!"
"Long live the Emperor!"
Calgurio smiled to himself, satisfied. His plan was working.
A northern invasion would blindside the Western Nations, forcing them to split their attention from Eterna.
Atem would be drawn into defending Dwargon and his own borders.
And while the West watched the Jura Forest…
The Magic Beast Corps would fall upon them like a hammer.
"Is there anything you do not understand?" the Marshal asked.
"—No ma'am," Calgurio answered.
"I will coordinate with Gladium-dono and finalize the invasion plan."
Gladium thumped his chest proudly.
"Aye! Drop us where we need to be, and we will crush them!"
The Marshal nodded once.
"Good. Begin preparations immediately."
" " "Yes ma'am!" " "
On that day, with Emperor Rudra saying not a single word…
The Eastern Empire committed to a simultaneous three-front invasion.
The Imperial edict was issued.
After centuries of dormancy…
the behemoth finally awakened.