Gadra was deeply unsettled—troubled by two truths he could not ignore.
The first was obvious.
The one who tried to assassinate him.
Someone I couldn't sense at all…
That alone narrowed the list to a terrifying few.
Gadra did not want to accept the answer forming in his mind. Because if his suspicion was correct, then it meant the worst possible conclusion: the Emperor had known everything. Every maneuver, every hidden scheme, every quiet betrayal—seen, understood, and permitted.
We were never players, Gadra realized grimly. We were pieces.
Emperor Rudra had lived far longer than any
ordinary man. His wisdom, his foresight, his power—none of it could be measured by common sense. Preparing for betrayal decades in advance would be trivial for someone like him.
If that was the case, then Gadra's survival was not mercy.
It was permission.
And that thought chilled him more than the blade that pierced his heart.
Leaving the Empire had saved him—but it also meant that anyone still inside was in danger. That truth pressed heavily on his conscience.
Which brought him to the second, more disturbing matter.
That face… that presence…
There was no doubt. The aura was unmistakable.
It was Rudra's.
Yet the man he saw had shown no recognition. No acknowledgment. As if Gadra himself were a stranger.
That was impossible.
Rudra could not have been there.
Which left only one answer.
A different existence… wearing the Emperor's shadow.
Whether it was a fragment, an echo, or something far more dangerous, Gadra did not yet know. But he was certain of one thing:
The one who stabbed him… was connected to Rudra.
And that meant this could no longer remain a private doubt.
Strength ruled this land now. And in Eterna, strength was measured by resolve, not silence.
Gadra made his decision.
Without hesitation, he initiated Magic Communication.
‹It's me. There's something you need to know—immediately.›
There was no time for courtesy. No room for hesitation.
‹I was attacked inside the Imperial palace. Not by chance. Not by an unknown. Someone who erased their presence completely. Someone I believe is tied directly to the Emperor himself.›
A pause.
‹If I am right, then the Empire has been aware of every scheme from the very beginning. No one is safe. Not even those who believe themselves untouchable. Be vigilant. Trust no shadow. And above all—do not let your guard down while you sleep.›
With that warning delivered, Gadra severed the connection.
There was nothing more he could do on that front.
His next step was clear.
Gadra went straight to Atem.
He would report everything—every doubt, every suspicion, every impossible detail.
Because Atem was not a ruler who demanded blind loyalty.
He was a king who valued truth, even when it was inconvenient.
And if the shadow of Rudra truly stretched this far…
Then the coming war was far more than a clash of nations.
It was a battle against a will that had ruled from the dark for centuries.
Gadra clenched his cane tightly.
This time… I will not look away.
A full month had passed since the council of executives.
Since then, I—Atem, King of Games and sovereign of Eterna— had spent nearly every waking hour inside the Control Room, watching the Empire with unblinking focus. This was where every thread of intelligence converged, where the board was laid bare and every piece was visible.
Benimaru and I practically lived here.
At night, we still returned to our residences. That was non-negotiable. If I left my quarters unattended for too long, Veldora and Ramiris would inevitably claim it as their personal playground. I had invested far too much effort into building my hermitage to allow that fate.
Benimaru, disciplined as ever, always looked
immaculate. He made sure to rest properly, and I allowed it. A supreme commander collapsing from exhaustion before the decisive battle would be an embarrassment I would not tolerate.
The Control Room never slept.
Staff rotated in three shifts, ensuring constant vigilance without burning anyone out. I personally ordered that health be prioritized above all else. A war won at the cost of one's own people was no victory.
As for Veldora and Ramiris—they required no such instruction.
They had been excited at first, eager for battle. But after a month of waiting, boredom overtook them. They returned to their research lab, telling me—quite shamelessly—to call them when something interesting happened. Frankly, the Control Room was quieter without them, so I allowed it.
At present, those gathered were myself, Benimaru, Souei, Shion, Diablo, and Geld, whom I regretted pulling away from his construction work. I wanted this war finished quickly—before Frey's patience finally snapped.
But war is dictated by the aggressor.
If the enemy does not move, even a king cannot force battle.
We had estimated the Imperial tank units would arrive in twenty days. Instead, their advance slowed deliberately. They were not delayed—they were posturing, flaunting their military might.
Thanks to continuous surveillance via Anubis, the Watcher of Fate, we were accustomed to the sight of tanks. But to those seeing them for the first time, they were no different from colossal metal beasts.
Even monsters feared them.
Magic beasts of A-rank and below fled from the Imperial advance. That alone spoke volumes.
The Empire had already crossed into our territory.
Under international law ratified by the Western States Council, this was an unforgivable violation—but the Empire recognized no such laws. Now that they had stepped inside my land, how we exploited this fact would define the war.
We could have launched a surprise attack immediately.
But I chose restraint.
The Empire always issued a recommendation of surrender. I would allow them that courtesy—nothing more.
"We're not being careless," Benimaru said calmly. "Preparations are on schedule. No matter what, this will be decided in battle. There's no need for petty tricks."
His confidence steadied the room.
Then—finally—the waiting ended.
The Imperial Army halted and began forming ranks.
As expected, they did not intend a straightforward clash. Instead, they sent infantry—separate from the tank units—into the forest in waves.
Seven hundred thousand soldiers.
Seventy percent of their total force.
"This is their true main force," I stated.
Benimaru nodded. "The tanks are a decoy—and a deterrent against Dwargon. They're protecting their rear while striking us."
They advanced carefully. Not arrogance—discipline.
Their tanks stalled not only to distract us, but to buy time for their infantry to fully assemble.
Benimaru gave a short laugh. "The advantage information gives us is overwhelming."
"Kufufufu," Diablo purred. "Indeed. Everything unfolds precisely as Atem-sama foresaw."
I ignored the excess praise and moved on.
Souei stepped forward. "Their infantry is stronger than we estimated. No deserters. Fully trained career soldiers. They've encamped thirty kilometers from Eterna, with a command post established."
Thirty kilometers.
Close—but not suspicious.
"They believe we are unaware," Benimaru concluded. "They're preparing to present their demand for surrender."
Souei agreed. "Legion magic interferes with detection at this range. They are confident they are unseen."
"So how strong are they?" I asked.
Souei did not hesitate. "Average rank: B. Officers exceed A. Even the weakest are C-plus. In coordinated units, their effective combat strength reaches A-rank per platoon."
Thirty-five thousand A-rank equivalents.
Dangerous.
But not decisive.
"The labyrinth remains our answer," Benimaru said.
"Precisely," Diablo added. "Once scattered within it, their strength collapses."
And only then did the full picture settle in my mind.
No matter their numbers, the labyrinth nullified them.
Only elites could challenge it.
Solarys, I thought.
This was the result of perfect calculation.
"It truly was fortunate that Ramiris is on our side," I said quietly.
Benimaru agreed. "From a commander's view, she is the worst enemy imaginable."
We praised her only because she wasn't present.
Next, my focus shifted east—to Dwargon.
Two thousand tanks stood in formation, muzzles aimed at the dwarven gates.
Gobta and Gabil were already in position, their forces merged with Dwargon's army. The evacuation of the inn town was complete.
"Command authority remains intact," Benimaru reported. "King Gazel approved it personally."
"Good."
Still, coordination between allied armies was always risky.
" Eterna—will handle offense. Dwargon will focus on defense," Benimaru concluded. "That minimizes confusion."
I agreed.
"Let's confirm with King Gazel one last time."
I activated the Communicator, Vesta's latest
creation—a device capable of transmitting sound and thought-images alike.
Its flaw was obvious: uncontrolled thoughts leaked freely.
I had long since mastered mental discipline. Others… not so much.
‹This is Atem of Eterna. Is King Gazel available?›
The response was tense—but swift.
‹King Gazel will respond shortly.›
Shion bristled. Diablo offered to teleport Gazel outright. Geld, ever reasonable, voiced sympathy for the staff.
Then Gazel answered.
‹I was about to contact you. The eastern gate of Dwargon has been blocked by Imperial forces.›
I shared the feed from Anubis, the Watcher of Fate.
‹I see it clearly now,› Gazel said. ‹Your informant was correct.›
We spoke plainly after that.
Dwargon would remain defensive.
Eterna would lead negotiations—and, if necessary, war.
When Gazel asked if I could win, I answered without hesitation.
‹It is irrelevant whether we can win. We will win.›
His laughter echoed through the line.
‹Then may victory favor you, King of Eterna.›
The call ended.
Silence filled the Control Room.
Then Benimaru spoke.
"The time has come."
I nodded.
Justice was on our side. The Empire had invaded my domain—the Great Jura Forest.
Negotiations would proceed as planned.
And there was only one envoy worthy of that stage.
Testarossa.
Even if the Empire chose violence, she would not fall.
Presentation mattered.
With resolve carved into my will, I activated Telepathy Net—
And issued the command that would set the world in motion.