Every monster on the battlefield felt the decree sink straight into their souls.
The words of their absolute ruler—Atem, King of Eterna—were not merely an order.
They were law, backed by unshakable authority and absolute trust.
Loyalty surged. Resolve hardened.
Then, another voice followed—sharp, merciless, and decisive.
‹The feigning strategy is hereby terminated. Crush the fools who dared trouble Atem-sama's heart. Show them the full might of Eterna.›
The moment those words rang out, all restraints vanished.
Joy—raw and violent—flooded the monsters' hearts. No longer suppressing their true nature, they released their mana in full. The youki they normally sealed away while living within Eterna now erupted freely.
The surrounding magicule density spiked instantly.
The battlefield itself seemed to tremble.
There was nothing left to fear.
Driven by instinct, pride, and devotion, the monsters surged forward—
Gobta heard the command clearly even as artillery shells screamed down from the sky.
"…Finally," he muttered. Then hesitated. "But wait—will it really be okay to abandon the mission halfway?"
"It'll be fine," Gobchi replied calmly. "Our role was to pressure them until they revealed their hidden cards. But if this keeps dragging on, we'll start losing people for real. They won't send out their elites unless we scare them properly."
"…You think so?"
"Yeah."
They spoke casually, standing amid explosions and shockwaves. Observers would have sworn it was impossible to hear anything in such chaos—but to them, it was normal.
"If it were up to me," Gobta said, "I'd rather the strongest enemies come out first."
"Speaking of which," Gobchi added, "Commander Gobta—you're one of the Four Heavenly Kings, right?"
"Hey! Even if that's true, I'm the weakest of them!" Gobta snapped. "Seriously, don't remind me!"
Despite the light tone, Gobta and the Goblin Riders were burning with excitement. The order they had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Artillery fire continued to fall with surgical precision—not to annihilate them outright, but to kill through shockwaves. The enemy never intended direct hits.
Gobta saw through it immediately.
A direct hit meant death.
A near miss meant survival.
Every member here was at least A-minus rank—each one worth a hundred soldiers. Even serious injuries could be healed quickly with potions.
That was why Benimaru's strategy had been to feign distress.
They weren't meant to lose—only to appear cornered.
While they played decoys, the rest of Eterna's forces would cut off retreat routes and prepare for a decisive counterattack.
"Once the tanks start running low on ammunition, the Empire's elites will show themselves," Benimaru had said casually.
Gobta had nearly shouted in protest back then.
But Benimaru's word was absolute—far more terrifying than the Imperial Army.
And this time, it was all to keep Atem-sama safe.
Gobta had tried to argue when the operation was explained, but the moment Atem's name was mentioned, every complaint vanished.
At first, Gobta had hoped to overwhelm the enemy in the opening charge.
That hope died quickly.
So they reverted to their role as bait.
But now—
That phase was over.
A decree from Atem, followed by Benimaru's execution order.
There was no reason to hold back.
It was time to unleash everything.
‹You are now authorized to attack without restriction. Master Hakurou will command the Green Numbers. Gobchi—take charge here.›
Gobta relayed the order through Telepathy Net. His voice was calm—but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
‹Understood. Then what about you, Corps Commander Gobta?› Gobchi asked with a shrug.
Gobta smiled wryly.
‹We're done pretending. I don't care about titles—but Atem-sama is watching. I won't embarrass myself in front of my king. I'm going all out.›
The look in Gobta's eyes made everyone straighten instantly.
They rarely saw this side of him.
"Heh… so you're finally using the strength I acknowledged in you," someone muttered smugly.
‹Why are you suddenly acting so high and mighty?›
‹D-did you hear me?!›
‹Well, either way—Gobto will do his best too!›
‹Heh. I expect nothing less.›
Gobta sighed.
Gobto had been with the unit since the earliest days. Talented, eccentric, and heavily influenced by Atem's refined tastes, he now wielded two longswords while wearing a long black coat. He hadn't mastered dual-wielding—but he used it anyway.
Normally, Gobta would worry.
But Gobchi was here.
That was enough.
Finally, Gobta turned to the one presence that demanded real caution.
Testarossa.
‹Testarossa-san, would you mind acting independently from here on?›
She smiled faintly and nodded.
Even amid smoke, explosions, and shockwaves, she remained immaculate. Her uniform was pristine, untouched by soot or dust.
‹Of course. I was thinking the same. From now on, I act not as an inspector—but as one of Atem-sama's subordinates. Everyone, do your best.›
She stepped down from Ranga and walked away calmly, disappearing into chaos.
Gobta watched her go, stunned—but wiser than before, he said nothing.
That, too, was growth.
Turning back, he raised his voice.
"Alright! Everyone—advance!"
"Ooooooh!"
The response was thunderous.
Gobta wanted Atem to see him.
To see how far he had come.
He admired his king—commanding, merciless when needed, yet utterly reliable. Because of Atem, the weakest goblin had become a commander feared by empires.
Now was the time to repay that faith.
"Gobchi! I'm leaving the rest to you!"
He signaled Ranga.
"Let's go, Ranga! Magic Wolf Unification!"
"I've been waiting," Ranga growled eagerly. "I will show my king—Atem-sama—my full power!"
Their consciousness merged.
Black mist swallowed them.
"Let's go wild!"
"No mercy. No restraint. Full force."
The mist collapsed inward—
And in its place stood a terrifying humanoid black wolf, armored in hardened fur, crowned with two horns.
This was the true form of one of the Four Heavenly Kings.
The Goblin Riders charged immediately.
"Don't get in Captain Gobta's way when he's serious!"
Gobchi barely finished shouting—
When artillery shells were smashed out of the air by the wolf's fist.
Those that struck directly did nothing. The hardened black fur absorbed the impact effortlessly.
Even shells traveling near six times the speed of sound failed to scratch him.
Ranga's Multilayer Barrier made it possible.
To the Imperial Army—
It was a nightmare.
"What… what is that thing…?"
"No—this isn't normal! That's a real monster—something beyond reason!"
Panic spread among the infantry.
The Armored Corps, locked into their own fortress formation, were in even worse trouble.
"Black Lightning!"
Gobta roared.
A bolt of pitch-black lightning crashed down onto the tank formation.
Nearly a thousand tanks—perfect conductors.
The lightning tore through defensive barriers, flooding the battlefield with blinding light. The resistance systems failed within seconds.
"Too hot! The defensive systems are breaking down!"
"Everyone—abandon the tanks!"
The lightning didn't just shock.
It burned.
It devoured machinery like a living predator.
Tanks exploded one after another.
What had been a fortress became a prison.
Imperial soldiers fled in terror.
Gobta laughed.
This was exactly what he had trained for.
He turned toward the remaining wall of tanks, smoke rising from their ruined frames.
Without hesitation—
He roared.
Voice Cannon.
The tank wall shattered.
Beyond it—another row of tanks awaited.
"Enough bait," Gobta growled. "Now we shine."
"This will definitely please Atem-sama," Ranga agreed.
They moved as one.
Gobta burst through the wreckage, faster than sound itself.
The Imperial soldiers couldn't even see him.
"I'll show you the result of my training with Ranga! Try to keep up—Gale Wolves Dance!"
A black wind howled across the battlefield—
And with it came a supersonic shockwave that tore straight through the Imperial tank unit.
The war had crossed a point of no return.
That shockwave was not merely physical.
It carried the magical effect "Damage Storm", a violent phenomenon that intensified as it moved. With Gobta's deliberate and precise control, the storm evolved—spiraling, tightening, and finally transforming into a full-scale "Damage Tornado Storm".
Like a living calamity, the wind twisted into towering funnels that tore across the battlefield.
Infantry were lifted and shredded.
Formations were erased.
Armor crumpled as if made of paper.
This was not a technique meant for duels.
It was a pure anti-military annihilation art.
The name of the technique—spoken with dread by those who survived—
"Gale Wolves Dance".
A dance of black wind, thunder, and absolute destruction.
By the time the storm faded, nothing resembling an organized force remained.
On this front of the battlefield—
The Empire had completely collapsed.