v1prologue

Prologue: At The End of War

The days that had unfolded with unbroken normalcy came to an abrupt end that day. Perhaps there had been omens, subtle signs of what was to come.  

Yet she was far too young to grasp the intricacies of the kingdom’s affairs or the machinations of neighboring nations. Everything had begun and ended beyond her knowledge, in realms she could not touch. All she could do was stand frozen, stunned before the chaos that erupted so suddenly.

Somewhere, a voice roared in fury.  

Somewhere, a voice wept in despair.  

Somewhere, a voice screamed in terror.  

Countless voices, layered in a cacophony, wove a song of annihilation. It was a melody of screams, roars, and shrieks which mingled with every other sound of anguish, blending with the thunderous howl of flames and wind. To discern each voice was impossible. This was the death rattle of a nation, the final groan as it perished.  

“Hime-sama!”  

Beyond the window, a bizarre sight met her eyes the far in the distant sky, an enormous shape floated, defying comprehension.  

Its distance was impossible to gauge, but its sheer size was undeniable. Compared to the Sky Dragon Cavalry soaring closer, it was as vast as a castle...no, perhaps a small mountain.  

And it floated without any supports, held it aloft. No cables suspended it. It hung there, like a cloud in the heavens.  

Magic could turn the impossible into reality, but this...this sight was beyond all measure.  

At first glance, it resembled an upright cylinder. Yet, upon closer inspection, it revealed itself to be something more akin to a statue. It mimicked the form of a maiden in prayer, her arms folded at her chest, a human shape rendered in colossal scale.  

A giant statue, soaring through the sky.  

That was—  

“Hime-sama!”  

It took a moment for her mind to grasp that this was the enemy army’s fortress.  

“…”  

Terror gripped her. Overwhelming, suffocating terror.  

She tore her gaze downward, as if fleeing the sight.  

But below, another hell awaited.  

Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Enemy soldiers—everywhere.  

The ground below teemed with enemies, an endless tide.  

Countless soldiers surged forward with relentless force, a wave of destruction. They charged, weapons raised, shields thrust high, crushing and slaughtering all in their path. She saw it. She could not unsee it.  

“Where are you!? Hime-sama!!”  

Even a young girl, ignorant of strategy or tactics, could see the truth.  

This was a battle they could not win. There was no path to victory.  

“Hime-sama…!”  

With the force of a battering ram, an elderly court lady burst into the room, nearly collapsing.  

“Oh, Hime-sama… to find you in such a place!”  

Her face was a mask of fear and desperation, contorted beyond recognition. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes disheveled, her appearance utterly wretched. Gone was the poised court lady who once declared, with serene authority, that “a court lady’s first priority is dignity.” She must have fallen somewhere along the way. A scrape marred her cheek, blood seeping from the wound.  

“Please, this way… quickly!”  

“…”  

The court lady seized her hand, pulling her through the castle’s corridors.  

The familiar scenery, once so comforting, had transformed into something alien.  

Everything was scarlet.  

It was the hue of raging flames, the stain of spilled blood, the color of destruction, overwriting the castle’s familiar vistas, consuming them utterly. National flags, once proudly raised, burned with showers of sparks. Ornate paintings curled in the heat. The carpet beneath their feet alone resisted the flames, soaked as it was with blood.  

The floor was turned into a graveyard of countless corpses.  

Enemies and allies lay indistinguishable, their numbers beyond reckoning. Some were no longer recognizable as single bodies. Others bore forms clearly inhuman.  

Most had been slashed to death, their wounds gaping. Yet there were others who charred black, or melted like heated candy, their bodies collapsed into grotesque shapes. The methods of their deaths defied imagination.  

Men’s corpses, women’s corpses,  children’s remains, elders’ remains. Every form of death lay scattered across the floor.  

Through this nightmare—  

“It’s alright, Hime-sama, it’s alright.”  

The court lady’s words, spoken as if to convince herself, echoed as she wove between the corpses—sometimes stepping over them. She made no distinction between friend and foe. There was no time, no space for such considerations.  

“If we can just reach His Majesty...if we can just reach His Majesty's side—”  

Their journey through the castle took twice as long as it should have, each step a labor through the carnage.  

That they encountered no enemy soldiers was a miracle, a fleeting stroke of fortune.  

But—  

“Your Majesty! I’ve brought Hime-sama!”  

The court lady’s cry rang out as she threw open the doors to the audience chamber.  

“…!?”  

She froze, rooted to the spot in horror.  

This grand hall, where over a hundred vassals once paid homage, was a symbol of imperial authority. Now, it lay desolate, an empty void. The light of the setting sun streamed through the windows, casting a ruinous, languid hue over the forsaken space.  

At the chamber’s farthest end—  

The throne, where the Emperor should have sat, was empty.  

In its place—  

“Yo… Your Majesty…!?”  

The court lady’s voice broke into a voiceless gasp.  

On the floor, a short distance from the throne, a man lay face down. His face was hidden, but his build and the opulent robes, woven with gold and silver threads, left no doubt as to his identity.  

And there was no mistaking that he was dead.  

A pool of blood spread slowly across the marble floor, a silent testament to his fate.  

“N-No…”  

The court lady’s whisper trembled as her bloodshot eyes fixed beyond the Emperor’s corpse.  

There, eight figures stood in a semicircle.  

Each was armed. Swordsmen and knights bore blades, while mages carried Gundo. Some bore beast-like ears or tails, marking them as demi-humans. Their battle attire varied, as did their appearances and skin tones, suggesting a unit drawn from diverse nations—a coalition forged for this moment.  

“…Majesty...Your Majesty...Your Majesty!?”  

The court lady’s scream tore through the silence as she rushed toward the fallen Emperor.  

But in the next instant—  

—Badzun.  

A dull thud reverberated through the grand hall.  

One of the eight had moved. With the greatsword in their right hand, they had severed the court lady’s head...or so it seemed.  

The act was so swift it defied perception. Only the subtle shift in the swordsman’s stance, and the sight of the court lady’s head which frozen in an expression of shock arcing through the air, confirmed the truth.  

And then—  

“…The daughter of the <Demon King>?”  

One of the eight spoke, their voice low and cold.  

Eight pairs of eyes turned to her, their gazes piercing.  

The court lady had shouted, carelessly, “I’ve brought Hime-sama!”  

There was no denying it now, no feigning ignorance. They would show no mercy.  

Even without her words, the outcome would have been the same.  

In a castle drowning in death, one or two more bodies would go unnoticed.  

No...leaving the bloodline of the <Taboo Emperor> alive was unthinkable. Any who bore the slightest suspicion would be slaughtered. It was only logical.  

“There’s no choice then.”  

“Even a child is no exception.”  

“We must eliminate any future threats.”  

The eight advanced toward her, their steps unhurried, deliberate.

  

“For peace.”  

“For justice.”  

“For the world.”  

“We won’t ask for forgiveness.”  

The swordsman who had slain the court lady raised their greatsword, its blade catching the fading light.  

“Go ahead...curse and scream as much as you like as you die.”  

And then—  

…  

In the year 1604 of the Continental Calendar, the Warring States period, which had ravaged the Felbist Continent for three centuries, drew to a close with the fall of the Gaz Empire, the northern titan.  

The forces marshaled were vast: 620,000 souls, encompassing knights, soldiers, mages, saboteurs, and mercenary bands. Three Aerospace Fortresses led a host of magical weapons, joined by special forces—the Abandoned Beast Corps, the Sky Dragon Cavalry—all unleashed to eradicate the Gaz Empire, branded the “root of all evil.”  

The six major nations of the continent, united in their conquest of the Gaz Empire, forged peace treaties in its wake, declaring an end to the war. The Gaz Empire was carved apart, its territories divided. The immense wealth of the <Taboo Emperor> was apportioned for post-war reconstruction, managed by the six nations. The Empire’s vaunted magical technology followed suit.  

It was the dawn of a peaceful era, longed for by all.  

But—