"That concludes the agenda," I said, my voice steady as it carried across the chamber. "Before we adjourn—does anyone have anything to add?"
What came next would depend entirely on how the Empire responded. We would remain flexible. Coordination with King Gazel had already begun, and the operational details would be handled by the headquarters staff. The corps commanders each had their own burdens to carry. If there were no urgent matters, this meeting could end here.
Just as I was about to dismiss everyone, a single hand rose.
Masayuki.
"Um… could I have a moment?"
I turned to him. "Speak, Masayuki."
He hesitated, then swallowed. "I—I have a question. You named me a corps commander, but… you never explained what the Volunteer Corps is actually supposed to do."
Ah. That.
For a moment, I regarded him in silence. He was still a student by origin—raised in a peaceful world. Being given command during a war would weigh heavily on anyone like that. Even I understood that pressure all too well. Power came suddenly. Responsibility followed immediately.
"You're right," I said at last. "I should have explained it properly."
Masayuki straightened unconsciously.
"You are not being placed on the battlefield," I continued. "Your role is not to clash with the Empire's army."
His shoulders loosened—just a little.
"The Volunteer Corps exists to maintain public order."
The room grew quiet as I explained.
"Our monsters will not panic. Their morale is absolute. But the immigrants—humans, demi-humans, and those unaccustomed to war—will feel fear. Anxiety breeds chaos. Chaos destroys cities faster than any army."
I looked directly at Masayuki.
"You possess something rare. Presence. Symbolism. People feel reassured simply by
seeing you stand firm. That is why you are suited for this role—far more than I am."
Masayuki nodded slowly. "I see… If that's what you need, then my ability will be useful."
Myourmiles immediately leaned forward, eyes shining.
"Indeed! Hero Masayuki-sama, known across nations for his impartial justice—please lend us your strength for the sake of the powerless!"
I ignored the exaggeration. Masayuki, meanwhile, looked like he had just accepted a lifelong curse.
"…Very well," he said with a sigh. "I'll maintain order with the Volunteer Corps."
"Good," I replied. "Know this as well: thanks to Ramiris, the city above ground will be isolated within the Labyrinth once the war begins."
Most of the executives already knew. Rumors had spread intentionally. Panic was easier to prevent than to suppress.
"With that measure in place, civilian damage will be minimal."
Ramiris puffed out her chest. "Naturally! With my labyrinth and Mentor's magicules, it's flawless!"
Veldora laughed loudly. "Gah-ha-ha! A triumph of cooperation!"
I inclined my head to both of them. "You have my gratitude. Truly."
A little praise went a long way—and this time, it was well deserved.
Ramiris then raised a finger. "But Atem—remember this. If Mentor were somehow
defeated and the 100th Floor were conquered, the city would be forcibly expelled from the labyrinth. It's unavoidable."
"I understand," I said calmly. "But if Veldora were to fall, the fate of the city would be the least of our concerns."
That scenario meant total war—no half-measures, no restraint.
"Well," Veldora said smugly, "I won't lose."
"And we still have the Dungeon's Elite Ten!" Ramiris added.
True. I did not expect Veldora to fight at all. But contingencies existed for a reason.
"If the impossible happens," I said evenly, "then we will still have Masayuki."
"What?!" Masayuki recoiled. "W-wait! I agreed to maintain order, not to handle that! What exactly do you think I could do in such a situation?!"
"I don't expect you to command an army," I replied. "That would be unreasonable."
Relief flickered across his face.
"I've already spoken with Hinata. She will send an aide from the Holy Knight Order to act as your second-in-command."
"Oh. That's… really reassuring."
"One more thing," I added. "You'll also be in charge of guarding the children."
Masayuki froze.
"…That's for my safety, isn't it."
"Yes," I answered without hesitation.
The children—especially Chloe—were more than capable of protecting him if the worst occurred.
That settled it.
The final matters were concluded, and yet—
A shadow lingered in my thoughts.
Chloe's memories.
My own death.
There was someone in the Empire capable of killing me. Of that, I was certain. If that being appeared, even the Dungeon's Elite Ten might not be enough.
Then Solarys spoke within my mind.
«Analysis complete. The Dungeon's Elite Ten are being deployed to force the enemy to reveal their hidden assets.»
As expected.
Solarys' highest priority was my survival. I accepted that without shame.
Still—
I clenched my fist.
No matter what card the Empire played…
No matter what monster stepped onto the board…
I would not allow a single one of my people to be taken by this war.
With that resolve, I rose from my seat.
"This meeting is adjourned."
The pieces were in place.
The board was set.
From the looks of it, Masayuki had succeeded.
Among the townsfolk, the story had already taken on a life of its own.
The Hero confronted the Demon Lord.
He forced a promise.
He secured the city's safety.
That was the version spreading through the streets.
"Well done, Hero-sama!"
"Our savior!"
Masayuki stood stiffly as praise rained down on him. Adventurers and immigrants alike surrounded him, their eyes shining with gratitude. His smile was awkward, strained—but no one noticed.
Instead, the rumors only grew more absurd.
"That troubled crease on Hero-sama's brow… how dignified!"
"To think he extracted concessions even from Demon Lord Atem himself!"
"Such composure. Such refinement."
"With Hero-sama here—and Demon Lord Atem standing behind him—what could the Empire possibly do?"
"Exactly! If we leave it to him, everything will be fine!"
No one questioned the story.
No one saw Masayuki's quiet suffering behind the legend being built around him.
His popularity surged unchecked, fueled by misunderstanding and hope. And the more it grew, the more impossible it became for him to deny it.
While the city went on with its daily life—markets open, laughter in the streets, children playing beneath a sky that looked no different than yesterday—
That day arrived.
From the horizon, an overwhelming presence advanced.
The Imperial Army had come.
Steel and soldiers marched as one. The very air seemed to tighten, as though the world itself sensed what was about to unfold. The fragile peace that had wrapped the city like a dream shattered in an instant—
Gone, like a midsummer night's illusion.
...The Emperor's Game....
"You're awake, Rudra."
The words were spoken calmly, without fear, to the man seated upon the imperial throne. He wore garments of overwhelming luxury, the kind that proclaimed absolute authority without the need for words.
The speaker was a beautiful woman with flowing blue hair—the Marshal, supreme commander of the Empire's armies.
"Yes," Rudra replied, opening his eyes fully. "How did the meeting go?"
"We have decided to proceed with the expedition."
"I see. You have my thanks. And Gadra—did he object?"
"He did. As expected," the Marshal answered evenly. "He is a realist. Weapons born from otherworlder knowledge cannot rival True Dragons. He understood that perfectly. It would have been foolish for him not to."
"Heh… of course." Rudra chuckled softly. "Even so, the expedition must continue. You understand this, do you not? I am the ruler of this world."
It is what I promised Guy, he thought silently.
Turning his gaze, Rudra smiled—warm, composed, and utterly confident.
"Tell me, Velgrynd. How do you believe this campaign will unfold?"
The woman beside him answered without hesitation.
Velgrynd—Scorch Dragon Velgrynd, one of the four True Dragons, the embodiment of flame and destruction. Older than the Storm Dragon Veldora. Immortal. Absolute.
"We will win," she said plainly. "We will drive the dwarves from their fortress and shatter the arrogance of that upstart Demon Lord Atem. I will also discipline my foolish younger brother and make Guy Crimson understand something very clearly."
Her crimson eyes gleamed.
"The one who rules this world… is you, Rudra."
Rudra laughed lightly, unbothered even in the presence of such overwhelming power.
"Do you truly think Veldora will intervene?"
"Without question," Velgrynd replied. "That child never misses chaos. But he has not yet returned to his former peak. I sense no global magical storm—nothing like the disasters he once caused. His resurrection was incomplete."
"…Then perhaps my army has a chance against him."
Velgrynd smiled cruelly.
"That would be delightful. That demon lord dares to manipulate my brother and deceive my niece. I will punish him myself."
They exchanged knowing smiles.
To Rudra and Velgrynd, victory or defeat in a single battle was irrelevant.
This was a game.
A game between Rudra and Guy Crimson, played across centuries.
The world itself was the board.
Humans and monsters were the pieces.
True Dragons were the kings and queens.
At first, Guy commanded monsters and majins. Rudra wielded humanity. Over time, pieces were stolen, converted, sacrificed. The rules were simple—they themselves could not confront one another directly. As long as that rule held, anything else was permitted.
Destroying the world would end the game—but neither desired that. So limits existed.
There were, however, wild cards.
The remaining True Dragon Veldora.
The Primordial Demons.
These beings were not bound to either side. They could be allies—or disasters—depending on how the board shifted.
In the West, Guy's ally Leon Cromwell was constantly pressured by Jaune, the Yellow Primordial. The West itself was guarded by Violet, while the East concealed Blanc, the White Primordial. Immortal, overwhelming beings—too costly to destroy outright.
Negotiation was the wiser move.
Velgrynd alone could eliminate Blanc, but the devastation would be unacceptable. That path was closed.
There had been other miscalculations as well.
The Western Nations had unified under their own belief system—Luminism. Its authority had become absolute. Even after discovering that Luminas was a Demon Lord, it was already too late. Faith had taken root.
Worse still, Heroes had appeared.
Chronoa.
Granbell.
Their presence made direct conquest impossible.
Had they not interfered, the West would have fallen long ago.
"Still," Rudra said calmly, "the path to ruling the world was never meant to be simple. This must be Veldanava's idea of a trial."
Velgrynd smiled faintly. "As expected of my elder brother. Always fond of trouble."
Then Rudra's eyes sharpened.
"But now, the pieces are in place. Victory is within reach."
"I will checkmate Guy… and Velzard."
Velgrynd frowned. "Guy will not remain idle. If you and Veldora clash, he will intervene."
"Annoying, but inevitable," she admitted. "Otherwise, I would have dealt with that child myself."
Timing was everything. Using a True Dragon too early invited Guy's response. This time, however—
"This moment is perfect," Rudra said. "My spies confirm it."
Luminas's true identity was known.
Her double was dead.
The Seven Luminaries were gone.
And most importantly—
"Granbell is dead."
Velgrynd nodded. "Those who opposed you eliminated themselves."
To them, it was nothing short of destiny.
"Your condition?" Velgrynd asked quietly.
"Stable," Rudra replied. "My power—Army of Angels: Armageddon—is ready."
Armageddon.
His ultimate authority.
A power that demanded time, sacrifice, and preparation.
That was why the Empire had waited.
Now, with Granbell gone and the West weakened, Rudra believed victory was assured.
Guy's Demon Lords were fractured. Independent. Uncooperative.
Individually powerful—collectively flawed.
"This time," Rudra declared, "everything favors us."
Velgrynd hesitated. "If only we could claim Veldora. With him, Guy would fall."
"If you keep him occupied," Rudra said, "I will use Regalia Dominion. Complete domination is possible."
Velgrynd's smile returned—slow and dangerous.
"Then the outcome is decided."
Yet concern flickered in her eyes.
"How long can you endure, Rudra…?"
"At least until the world kneels," he answered. "The human body is inconvenient, but acceptable."
His soul was wearing thin—each reincarnation carrying memory, will, and power forward without rest. To pause would seal his strength. To reincarnate now would delay Armageddon.
He refused.
This was his era.
His game.
His victory.
Velgrynd clenched her fists.
"Have faith," Rudra said, smiling with absolute arrogance. "Watch as I dominate this world."
He sat tall upon his throne—unyielding, radiant, supreme.
The Hero Emperor Rudra.
Captivated by Rudra's towering ambition, Velgrynd hardened her resolve.
"Indeed," she said softly. "Then look forward to it. Those who dare stand in the path of your crusade will be granted a peaceful end. I shall rain mercy upon them."
With that, she drew Rudra into a gentle embrace—one filled not with tenderness, but with absolute conviction.
They spoke long into the night, discussing conquest, fate, and the final moves of their great game.
At dawn, the Empire stirred.
Steel thundered across the plains.
Magic surged through the air.
A legion unlike any the world had ever seen marched forth—countless soldiers, armored divisions, and engines of war moving as one.
Their destination was clear.
They were advancing on Eterna.