The battle site was a plain.
No cover. No elevation. Nothing that could be used to funnel the enemy, create an ambush, or offer any kind of topographical advantage. It was the kind of terrain that appeared in strategy manuals as an example of neutral ground — the environment closest to a fair battle that was possible to create.
Of course that completely ignored the fact that a single Infernal could kill dozens of humans alone.
There was fairness there, assuming you closed your eyes to everything that mattered.
[ Prepare for battle: 01:58:57 ]
The clock had appeared in the center of the terrain with the presence of something that didn't need explanation. I already knew what it was. The system had made it clear regardless.
Two hours.
It wasn't much. Thousands of units distributed among hundreds of Lords, each with their own logic, their own fears, their own decisions about where to stand and what to do. The problem wasn't the number — it was who would make the decisions that would determine victory or death. Without cohesion, that wasn't an army. It was a crowd with weapons.
The cluster of Lords gathered in a specific corner of the plain showed me there was at least some hope.
"So that's where you are."
I turned to my units.
"Wait here. I'll be right back."
✦ ✦ ✦
I knew what I needed.
In the human world, capability doesn't move things. Status does. I could be the most capable person on the field — and I believed I was — but believing that didn't move anyone. What moved people was a name they had already decided to follow before any argument was presented.
I advanced toward the group. As I approached, the circle of people opened — not for me, but to reveal who was at the center. I approached quickly, kneeling close to her presence.
"You must be Miss Unicorn. Your name precedes you."
She was the kind of beauty that didn't need context to be noticed. Hair black as night, eyes of a violet I hadn't seen in anyone before — not constructed, not artificial, simply what it was. The armor she wore was of a material I didn't recognize, but I recognized what that material meant: beside it, mine would look like it was made of paper.
But it wasn't her that had stopped the field and made me prostrate myself.
It was the creature beside her.
I had always imagined what it would be like — and the reality hadn't disappointed. There was something in that animal that made everything around seem provisional, as though the field, the Lords, the armies were the backdrop and that creature was the only element that had been placed there with intent. It was the kind of presence that explained why a family's name had been built around a single being.
Unicorn.
Not just one — two of them.
"Forgive me — I don't know you, sir."
Of course. I was wearing the helmet.
The gazes around carried the kind of disapproval that forms when someone doesn't remove their helmet before a figure of high status. It was a good sign — it meant her status was sufficiently respected for others to feel the discomfort on her behalf.
"I see you brought the creatures."
She was slightly flustered by the change of subject. I didn't mind — the clock left no room for formalities.
"Ah — yes. These are Luna and Estrela. They are—"
"What's their power?"
"Hey — watch how you speak to her, you—"
One of the men beside her took half a step forward. Her hand rose before he completed the movement. He stopped.
She had understood there was no time for that. That already told me more about her than anything else I had observed until then.
"Luna has barrier power. Estrela has area healing power."
"Duration and quantity."
"If not destroyed, Luna can maintain it for days. If directly attacked, she can rebuild twice — I brought mana potions, so keeping her standing won't be a problem. Estrela can use the healing power once taking the size of the army into account. It's not strong enough to restore limbs, but it's enough to pull someone back from the edge of death."
"That'll do. What tactic are you using?"
The confused eyes answered before she opened her mouth.
Nothing had been discussed. Nobody had formulated anything.
Worse than I had imagined.
"I have six bombards that can undermine the adversaries' strength. I also have aerial attack with Griffins and units mounted on Yokais for encirclement and rotation."
"You have Griffins?"
She noticed the units stopped behind me — but her eyes went straight to the spiders before reaching the Griffins. That made sense. Nearly three-meter arachnids had the kind of presence that didn't let the gaze advance to what was behind. The beauty of a Griffin was palatable to anyone — but first you had to get past the spiders, and clearly nobody was managing that easily. I saw the shudder in her before she could find them.
Others around also noticed — some approaching close enough for Arachne to strike her leg on the ground with the patience of someone doing it for the last time before stopping giving warning.
"Yes. Does anyone else have something notable you've identified?"
It became clear she wasn't a warrior. She had no tactical training, no field experience. But she had something I hadn't expected to find on that field — the capacity to see who people were before hearing them.
"I would like to be commanded by you. What do you suggest?"
✦ ✦ ✦
"I'd like to hear everyone's capability. If anyone has something different from the standard, speak now. We have less than two hours — it would be better if you spoke quickly."
The group's eyes went between me and Carla. She didn't seem confused. She seemed like someone who had arrived at a conclusion before I finished speaking.
"This man was recommended by my father and will help us."
A pause.
"He is the most capable newcomer here. In my name, I ask everyone to cooperate."
She was good with words. She was making a bet — on a mask, on a stranger — with the conviction of someone who had learned to identify competence before knowing credentials.
The Lords began to speak.
Nearly ninety minutes of inventory. Names, units, special capabilities — or the absence of them. I listened to them in batches with the attention of someone building a map while listening, cataloguing what was useful and discarding what wasn't without letting the distinction show.
In the end, the result was what I had expected.
Seven hundred and eighteen Lords. Half with incomplete units. Less than a quarter with anything that could be called real force. The human field was, in its majority, newcomers who had arrived in the Oasis without clear direction and had invested in ways that made sense for defense — not for war.
There were exceptions.
Some with status high enough to compensate for meager armies — the kind of Lord who had bet everything on becoming personally stronger, ignoring everything around them. It worked up to the point where it no longer worked.
And there was a surprise.
A girl. She couldn't have been more than fourteen — and I had wondered for a moment what someone had been thinking when they sent her. The Oasis had sending costs that made the decision always an adult one. Someone had made that decision regardless, for reasons I preferred not to speculate about. But the system had noticed — she had managed a chance encounter before consolidating the kingdom, the kind of access the Oasis reserved for cases it classified as irregular.
"Did you know I also have an Owlbear?"
I said it with the simplicity of someone who hadn't yet learned to use information as currency.
"Really? Damian is very strong. With him on our side we can win, can't we?"
Her Owlbear was of a different species from mine. Reddish-brown fur with the kind of build that made the space around seem smaller — larger than mine, with a presence that intimidated before any action. It was clear this one had earth magic. Setting that creature aside, her army was meager — fewer than thirty units, most of them first-line archers clearly built in a hurry. That made sense. Probably all the investment had gone to that glutton.
"Probably. You can go back."
✦ ✦ ✦
The clock showed thirty minutes.
The analysis had taken longer than I had calculated. Analyzing so many Lords with the attention each deserved had a time cost I had underestimated.
I regrouped with Carla. Two nobles were at her side — clearly of lesser prestige than her name, but significant enough to be there beside her rather than anywhere else.
"What did you find?"
"Mediocre, at best. But it was what I expected to find."
A pause.
"It's going to be a hard fight. With many deaths. But I think it's possible to win."
Both nobles smiled.
Carla didn't.
I held that image for a moment. The smiles of the two contrasting with her serious face — she had heard what the two hadn't heard. Not the part about winning. The part about the deaths.
The taller of the two had an athletic build and the highest individual status I had registered on the field. His army was meager — few units, none of notable quality. All the investment had gone into himself. That made him powerful. It also made him arrogant with the solidity of someone who had never needed to depend on anyone.
"Very well, noble Lord. What tactic should we use?"
It was a question formulated as though he already knew the answer and was testing whether I would say something different.
"The best tactic we can use is hit and run."
The words went down like something both their stomachs rejected before it reached their brains.
"That would be a dishonor to our families. We should stand and fight."
The second noble was smaller than the first, more restrained — but had the best army in the group. More evolved than mine, which meant he had invested in the castle in ways I hadn't managed — probably because he didn't have creatures consuming resources in parallel. That didn't diminish his capability. On the contrary. Without the chance encounters that had defined my path, I would probably be exactly him.
He was the only one in the group with mounted archers on cavalry — something sufficiently rare for me to have noticed before he opened his mouth.
His objection wasn't arrogance. It was genuine conviction. And genuine conviction was, in a certain way, harder to deal with than arrogance — because arrogance you work around, but conviction you need to respect before disagreeing.
"If you don't mind your own life, I wouldn't mind letting you fight them directly."
A pause.
"But I would prefer you give me command of your cavalry."
"How dare you, you—"
"Silence."
Carla. Firm, without unnecessary volume.
Both stopped.
"You're saying this because of the bombards?"
"Yes and no. Even if we wanted to retreat, we couldn't do it in time — they're faster than anything we have. Retreating isn't a real option."
"Then what in the world are you talking about?"
The smaller one spoke. Carla's gaze made him realize the mistake before she said anything. He stopped.
"What I'm saying is that we can use the terrain as a trap while they advance in our direction. They have no ranged attack — so the approach is our only certainty. We don't control when they arrive. We control what they find on the way."
While Carla processed, I pulled from the ring what I had stored.
She looked at the item.
"Is that what I think it is?"
And in my hands, the last item I had made manually.
It was simple — deliberately simple. A small thin metal container with a metal star at the tip that descended under pressure, generating inside the mechanism a spark from the impact of metal against metal. The Oasis had permitted the replication for exactly that reason: it was too rudimentary to be classified as a threat.
It wasn't fatal. For a human reinforced by the Oasis it would be an inconvenience. For an Infernal, less than that.
But it wasn't for killing.
It was for buying time — and for that it was exactly what I needed. I had understood the Oasis's pattern over time and with every creation that had been denied: anything too strong was blocked before it left the drawing board. Anything that would prevent the fight in its purest form was discarded by the system without explanation. The Oasis protected the confrontation. It didn't allow it to be ended before it began.
But that item didn't kill. It was so small, so primitive, so apparently harmless that the system probably hadn't calculated what it represented in the hands of someone who needed time above anything else.
Sometimes the best solution is the one nobody considers enough of a threat to block.
"Land mine. It's rudimentary but my idea is to distribute them across the terrain as traps — undermining their advance before they reach the front line. Any time we gain is time for the archers and the bombardiers to do as much as possible. Close combat is our defeat. Our only real advantage is distance."
The two nobles exchanged a look. It wasn't agreement — it was the recognition that the argument was solid enough not to be dismissed even by those who wanted to dismiss it.
"How many mines did you bring?"
"Two hundred. The rest of the gunpowder is distributed between the bombards and the Griffins."
I didn't get more specific than that. The real numbers were meager — fewer than a thousand gunpowder bags, fewer than five hundred for the smaller bombards. Doing everything alone had a quantity cost I had accepted in exchange for quality. What I had would have to do.
"May I think for a moment with my colleagues?"
"Of course. But I suggest you be quick."
I pointed at the clock.
Less than ten minutes.
✦ ✦ ✦
While I stepped away from the group, a shadow approached.
The reddish-brown Owlbear stopped a few meters from me.
In the saddle — adorned with what could only be described as a stuffed teddy bear sewn into the leather, with the kind of craftsmanship that someone puts into something they carry by choice, not necessity — was the girl.
"Excuse me — I think with the nerves I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Helena. And yours?"
"You can call me Leonidas. Did something happen?"
"No — nothing. I just wanted to know what position you want me to take."
"I don't command anything here. I only make suggestions while whoever commands chooses."
I directed my eyes toward the group of three, a few meters back.
"Hmm. I see. It's just that Damian said you're the only trustworthy one here. And I trust him. I prefer to follow your suggestions."
She was completely sincere. There was no calculation in it — it was the trust of someone who had learned to delegate judgment to those who deserved it and had decided I deserved it before I said a word.
The Owlbear was watching me carefully.
I understood what he wanted.
"If you'd like — you can protect my bombards. They're going to be a priority target as soon as the enemy understands what they are. We need to keep them standing for as long as possible."
"But isn't that far from the front line?"
"Yes and no. It'll be far from the first impact — but it'll be the most pressured point as soon as any breach appears. It won't be safe. It'll be the focus of the battle at the end."
She thought for a moment.
"I think I understand. Then I'll go there."
Before she moved away, I heard something.
Not with my ears.
It was the Owlbear. A direct thank you, without words, arriving with the clarity of things that don't need translation. He was glad I had understood what he had asked without him needing to ask.
I watched the girl moving away in the creature's saddle.
"It's too early for children to die."
Nobody answered.
It was for myself anyway.
With less than five minutes left, Carla called me.
"Finally."