Vandoria, Dawn Province
After days of forced marching, Duke Pierre and what remained of his army finally reached the border of Dawn Province. What was once a proud force of 30,000 Vandorian troops had withered into a ragged column of barely a few thousand—wounded, limping, battered, humbled.
"Sir," an officer reported, "we should reach the city by nightfall."
"Good. Once we arrive, we'll contact the capital. Tell the men to keep moving," Pierre replied, his voice gravelly with exhaustion and humiliation.
They marched through the serene, fertile countryside of Dawn. Green pastures. Rolling hills. Quiet streams. All beautiful—yet tainted by the stares of beastmen and human farmers working the fields. These people, originally Ravendawn citizens, had suffered under Vandoria's taxes for years. And now, when they saw the arrogant Vandorian army staggering past—wounded, bruised, humiliated—they didn't show sympathy. Some even smirked.
Pierre caught their expressions.
Laugh while you still can, you cowards…
When my army is reinforced, you'll be the first to pay. You'll regret betraying Vandoria.
You will regret betraying Vandoria.
His thoughts boiled, dark and vindictive.
A few hours later, his columns halted. An army blocked their path—thousands strong, Ravendawn banners fluttering, wyvern riders circling overhead. Smoke rose from the city of Dawn behind them.
At the front of the formation, mounted on a white steed, was Prince Luxius.
Pierre's face twisted.
"Y-You damned prince! You abandoned your position and cost us the battle!"
Luxius calmly raised his chin. "What do you mean? I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be—standing in a city that belongs to my people. And my battle is just about to begin."
"You made a deal with the demons!?"
"I would make deals with any demon," Luxius said calmly, "if it let me punish you."
"You traitor!"
Luxius raised his sword.
"RAVENDAWN—CHAAARGE!"
The field erupted into a roar as the prince's army surged forward.
---
Valinor, Capital City of Elvandar
Valinor is a beautiful and typical fantasy elf capital where somehow a huge city and a lush forest with giant trees can coexist together. Towering trees serve as skyscrapers, connected by elegant hanging bridges. Floating islands drift lazily overhead.
Oh, and don't forget the huge monstrous tree at the center that is so tall its crown disappears into the clouds. People can call it either Yggdrasil or the Tree of Life.
Graceful perytons (basically a deer with wings) carried elves through the air. Massive roc birds transported goods between districts. Magic hummed through the leaves, and sunlight glowed emerald through enchanted canopies.
Elvandar wasn't just green—it was aggressively green.
Clean energy, clean magic, clean souls.
No meat. No alcohol.
And as expected from vegans in any universe, they think they are better than anyone else.
Their perfection made them an isolated kingdom, simply because no one else could survive the constant lectures. But other nations wouldn't dare to openly go against the Elvandars, since not only are they the masters of beauty care and anti-aging, they are also the masters of environmental warfare.
Inside the gleaming white palace built around Yggdrasil's trunk, the elven leadership gathered around a mana-comm crystal:
· The beautiful elf Queen, Thessalia Ulmaris
· The handsome Grand Druid, Vulred Neremin
· The equally handsome Grand Magus, Paerith Elkhazel
· Several Great Druids and Archmages, all angelic in appearance
A sweating technician crouched beside the mana-comm, surrounded by bubble wrap and an open box. He held an iPod in one hand, instructions in the other.
"Let's see… scroll until I find the Bluetooth setting…" he muttered.
"How much longer?" Queen Thessalia asked, her beauty so radiant it somehow increased the technician's panic sweats.
"Y-Yes, my queen, I'm still trying to activate it."
The Grand Druid wrinkled his perfect nose. "Ugh, a demonic device in our sacred halls…"
"At least it's better than letting an actual demon set foot inside," the Grand Magus replied. "Though I sense no mana from the device."
After rejecting Murica's offer to help set it up—because obviously no demon was allowed inside Elvandar—the technician finally succeeded.
"Bluetooth connected… done. I think… I think it's ready, my queen."
Instantly, the druids and magi cast a shimmering protective barrier, protecting the queen from any potential demon trickery. The technician, notably, was not included in that consideration.
Queen Thessalia gestured. "Turn it on."
Gulping, he pressed the sideways triangle button.
The crystal flickered. Music played.
A triumphant fanfare—Hail to the Chief sounds alike—played as Solo appeared in the projection.
"Greetings, leaders of Elvandar. I am Alex Solomon, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Murica."
The elves straightened.
"That's the demon leader other than the Demon King?" the queen asked.
"Yes, your majesty," the Grand Druid replied.
The Grand Druid and Grand Magus dramatically stepped forward.
"Greetings, Alex Solomon! I am Elvandar Grand Druid, Vulred Neremin."
"And I am Elvandar Grand Magus, Paerith Elkhazel."
"We present to you the Queen of Elvandar."
"Protector of the Elf."
"Keeper of the great tree of life, Yggdrasil."
"Thessalia the Third."
The technician panicked and hit pause.
"Umm... excuse me, sires, my queen…" The technician read the manuals and scratched his head. "Uhh, this is not a normal mana-comm transmission. This is called a video, a recording… so basically this is just like a letter. With pictures."
Silence.
Elven nobles tried desperately to maintain dignity.
The queen cleared her throat.
"T-then carry on… continue that... thing."
The recording resumed, showing peaceful Murican life, and technological marvels.
The elves watched with unfamiliar discomfort.
---
Hearthguard Cairn, Capital City of Dwargonia
Deep beneath the mighty Tambora Mountains spread Hearthguard Cairn—a sprawling steampunk metropolis illuminated by copper lanterns and magma veins. Steam trains roared through tunnels. Steam automobiles rattled along metal roads. Steamships docked in cavern harbors. Steam airships launched from vast hangars carved into the mountain heights.
The dwarves were the antithesis of the elves.
If elves embodied natural elegance, dwarves embodied industrial chaos.
Elves were tall, statuesque, flawless.
Dwarves were short, rugged, and… aesthetically challenged.
Elves cherished trees.
Dwarves cherished chopping trees.
Elves avoided meats and alcohol.
Dwarves threw barbeque parties every weekend.
They hated each other—but no one dared provoke Dwargonia, since not only were they the masters of brewery and barbeque, they were also the masters of creating fantasy killing machines.
Inside the Grand Fortress, the five clan leaders of the Grand Council watched the same Murican video:
· Clan Silverfist leader, Tubrat Silverfist
· Clan Axebreaker leader, Dwordoug Axebreaker
· Clan Oakenbrew leader, Calgirra Oakenbrew
· Clan Bluespire leader, Nelfilyn Bluespire
· Clan Sandbeards leader, Orroth Sandbeards
Mara, the Murican ambassador, sat in the middle of six dwarven soldiers in armored steam armor—all armed to the teeth. He didn't seem bothered.
"So," Tubrat grunted, "the demon kingdom is now a mechanical nation like us?"
"Correct, Council Member Silverfist," Mara replied politely.
Dwordoug Axebreaker leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Then answer me—between your machines and ours… which is stronger?"
It was a trap question. Diplomatically unsolvable for anyone but a demon.
Mara smiled. "Ours, of course."
Silence.
Then—
"BUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The council erupted in roaring laughter.
"You've only been mechanical for what—one century?" Nelfilyn cackled.
"Maybe we should test it someday," Orroth snorted.
"HAHAHA! We like your honesty, ambassador," Calgirra said.
Mara bowed slightly. "Thank you."
The dwarves appreciated bluntness, not flowery diplomacy. Mara fit in perfectly.
"Play the rest of the…" Orroth Sandbeards said. "Whaddya call it? Video."
The recording continued, showing DMZ Village's peaceful coexistence between demons and other races. Jehovah accused civilian demons of having inaudible friendly conversations with convicts & prostitutes loving husband & wife.
Then the Vandorian raid began.
The dwarves leaned forward, eyes darkening.
A female Murican soldier rushed in, shouting:
"OH NO! THEY'RE KILLING CIVILIANS! WE HAVE TO STOP THEM!" (Belphy had dubbed this part)
The dwarves grunted approvingly when the Muricans gunned down the raiders.
---
Across Many Kingdoms in Talvaris
Murican diplomatic teams worked tirelessly to deliver the videos to every kingdom they could reach. Royal courts, nobles, generals, and councils watched the horrors of DMZ Village.
Rape. Pillage. Murder.
Not written in reports, but seen in vivid, undeniable detail.
Some turned away. Some vomited. Others trembled with anger.
Then came the scene of the female soldier crying devastatedly, hugging the body of a dead human child (Belphy insisted on re-shooting this part using professional actors).
Many sniffed discreetly.
And when Ivy appeared—a lone human girl fighting for her life—many viewers whispered prayers.
And when the Muricans saved her, they cheered.
When the human girl—Ivy Elara—was finally safe under Murican medical care, the room went silent.
Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"My family were simple farmers… We fled Vandoria's oppression. The demons welcomed us… fed us… sheltered us… Those months were the happiest we'd ever had.
Until the Vandorians came. They killed my parents… They almost killed me… Sniff… if not for the Muricans… HUAAA—"
Her breakdown, as she was being comforted by a actor nurse, hit every audience like a punch.
---
Divine Empire of Celeste, Celestial Palace
Even the Celeste royalty watched the video. Nobles dabbed at their eyes. Queen Catherine openly wept. King Gregory pretended to adjust his crown while wiping his tears.
When Duke Pierre's arrogant threats appeared on screen, the room stiffened in collective disgust.
"HAHAHAHA! Submit to us, or my army will storm your borders! And trust me—we can be more frightening than you demons!"
Gasps filled the hall. Celeste nobles whispered violently.
By the time Solo delivered his closing message—
"My fellow leaders, as you can see… this tragedy was not started by us… we only want peace and harmony… But somehow the Vandorians see that as weakness, and try to take advantage to invade and enslave us. We fight their invasion, and repel them… But without this video technology, we may not be able to prove our innocence. Now, I hope you can understand a little bit more about us, and are willing to hear more… by opening a diplomatic channel with us. Thank you."
The video ended. Debates broke out across the room. Many were confused… but most now agreed on one thing: The Vandorians are complete assholes.
The summoned hero, Nobuyuki Sora, stood beside the saintess Isabel. She looked devastated by the video.
But Sora was thinking something else entirely. He was confused.
And terrified.
Why are the demons using Earth technology?
Why aren't they the villains?
What does this mean for me?
If demons aren't evil…
Am I even needed as a hero!?
His internal scream echoed louder than anything inside the hall.
"Fuck!"