Danger sense? That’s a talent, isn’t it?

The first large-scale conflict between humans since the fall of the old civilization began in Goldendoon.

Sure, we’d fought battles with hundreds before—but this was the first time either side had thrown ten thousand at it.

First, let's look at the imperial forces that made it out—(......)

A white pigeon circling above Goldendoon descended to land on the hand of an old man with a bald head.

"Damn it!"

The small cry came from Meldura Duras, the bald old man at the rear of the imperial army, preparing a group ritual spell.

He was using a pigeon familiar to keep watch, but the moment the familiar got close to Golden Dune, it triggered the enemy’s detection magic. Strong one too.

I thought the familiar would be killed right then—but it was just left alone.

One reason, I’m sure. They want to show off their strength. The fact that the familiar was a dove with no offensive power probably helped too.

Meludura shuddered.

There were dangerous types gathered around the young lord of Elxil.

First, a woman in old-fashioned mage style who’d spotted her familiar without trouble. She bore a crest Meludura had never seen before.

Meludura wasn’t a Seal Officer, but she’d memorized nearly every crest ever found. This one? Nothing. Nothing at all. And that glow—no doubt she carried terrifying power.

"Damn. Definitely a top-tier crest... probably legendary class."

Meludura had heard the enemy had a dusk alchemist. That was shocking enough. But two top-tier crests? That’s when fear finally sank in.

Probably the idiotic castle and that massive bridge were the work of that dusk alchemist. I can say that with certainty.

At this point, our chances of winning are practically nil. And now a legendary-class mage joins the fray...

"This is bad."

Meludura muttered it again, without even realizing.

"Master... w-what do we do now?"

One of Meludura’s apprentices, who’d been watching the enemy through a small animal familiar, turned pale and snapped at him.

"Can’t be any doubt. The real problem’s that bee man."

Meludura sent the dove again—this time to check on the bee man, their ally. And shuddered.

The bee man had just declared himself a demon.

Lucky for Meludura, the bee man had pulled back from the front line right after. No hesitation needed.

Surrendering. Don’t know if you’ll really let me live, but staying here just means dying anyway! No annoying bee strategist to worry about now!

"Hah! All of us, together with our master!"

"Nice words. But you’re just scared of dying."

"Of course I am."

"Hmph. Honesty’s good. Then everyone, use enhancement magic—let’s retreat across the great bridge!"

"“““Hah!!!”””"

With that, the magic unit at the rear quickly pulled back. The imperial soldiers, hesitating before, ignored the charge order altogether and scrambled away, fleeing headlong in the wake of the magic unit.

After hours of fleeing backward across the Dōn Bridge, a group of Mizuho samurai stood waiting ahead of them.

At first, Meludura braced for an ambush—but then she saw the figure waiting at the front. And everything clicked into place.

"Right, Masumune Saintclair, wasn't it? So that’s why your betrayal was all part of the plan."

Meludura exhaled, offering her hand. The man who’d led the Empire across the Dōn Bridge—Masumune—grasped it in return.

"Records are scarce, but back in the days when people fought each other, the scheming was outright obscene. The Mizuho region was a patchwork of petty states, so I’d remember a few tricks from that era."

Psychological warfare—something you’d never learn fighting monsters alone.

"Now then, Masumune. What’s our fate going to be?"

"Kyle-sama is lenient toward those who surrender. We’re sending food by steamship right now. So stay put quietly until the war ends."

"Uh-huh. Got it."

So, over ten thousand soldiers had their lives spared.

Meanwhile, the imperial forces launching the attack on Goldendown were in disarray.

First, a third of their troops deserted. That was ten thousand men gone from the start. And the very core of their strength—the magical assault division—was the first to go.

You could imagine how panicked the commander must have been, knowing full well how hard it was to breach the fortress, now that the only unit capable of breaking the gates was gone.

Still, the commander swallowed every ounce of panic and began reorganizing the troops.

"Use the assembled trebuchet units—mobile siege engines—on the gate! Speed up the assembly of the stationary heavy siege engines! Bring out the battering rams!"

Having judged a long campaign impossible, the commander threw every siege weapon they had into the breach.

But the battering ram carved from a massive log, the trebuchet hurling multiple boulders the size of heads—neither could breach the gates of Goldendawn.

The walls were made of mysterious stone, so destruction was never even considered from the start. But the gates were wood. They might break.

“Maybe… if the Trebuchit is assembled…”

The commander muttered.

If it could launch a boulder the size of a man, even the sturdiest gate should shatter. He repeated it like a prayer.

The bulk of the siege engines were carried by those with “space storage” magic, scattered across the field. Not as absurdly capacious as Craft, but still, the elite mage corps had a few skilled enough to carry heavy loads.

Of course, those mages had fled first. But at least they’d left the gear behind. A stroke of luck in the midst of disaster.

That’s exactly why the commander—should’ve been sharp—didn’t notice it. Not a single arrow had come flying in, even as the imperial forces pressed forward with all their might.

★

This was the command chamber of the fortress.

Dozens of clerks were scrambling, analyzing the battlefield in a frenzy.

At the far back sat Lord Kyle, the lord of the domain. To his left and right stood King Vaindeck and the living god of the Mizoho Shrine Nation, Muten, wrestling with the flood of incoming documents.

Kyle plucked one paper from the pile.

“So, about a third of the imperial army has pulled back, then.”

Zaid, the lead clerk, replied.

“Yes. Currently under the command of Masamune.”

Zaid spoke not like a brother now, but like a bureaucrat. Kyle found it slightly irritating.

“Any more imperial soldiers ready to surrender?”

“No.”

Zaid stated it plainly.

Had to state it plainly—couldn’t move forward without it.

“…Understood. Tell Alphard to begin with me.”

“Confirmed.”

Zaid bowed, sent orders to the messenger, then returned straight to the desk piled high with reports.

Alphard, supreme commander, acted the instant he received the command.

“Know they’re cornered. Still charging—impressive. But we’ve wounded the Golden Dune. Now they’ll pay.”

Alphard looked down on the imperial troops, brushing aside arrows with a casual flick of his hand.

“Why’d they bother paving the square with stone tiles instead of alchemical-hardened rock? Seems they haven’t figured it out yet.”

Why stone tiles, not hardened alloy?

Stone tiles are sturdy enough, but when tens of thousands of soldiers march over them, they shift ever so slightly—move, even. Heavy siege engines make it inevitable. And most imperial troops carry heavy armor too.

Every time the tiles twitch, a thick, viscous substance oozes out from beneath, seeping through the cracks.

It was Trimoche—mass-produced by Craft.