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Happy New Year.

Same to you this year.

We're diving into the final chapter now.

A week had passed since I’d woken up.

Knew it all along.

I’m sitting alone, facing the desk, crying.

I’ve known it ever since we started fighting. This was never gonna be avoided. Not really.

But I don’t think it’s my fault I fought all the way to the end.

You know it’s true. Nobody’s hoping for an ending like this.

This... this can't be right.

A future where I’m stuck writing stuff like this?!

Repair costs for the wrecked frame, replacing parts and weapons, fuel recovery, securing the original startup calc-unit (senseboard), battle reports, logging my own actions, and a whole mountain of other paperwork piled up.

While I was asleep, the other squad leaders must’ve already finished and handed in their reports—now I’m getting chewed out by the clerks.

What do you want me to do? I wasn’t even conscious!

I didn’t *mean* to slow down your work, okay? My unit just happened to cost a bit more than the others, used up more fuel, and needed custom parts for the weapons—what was I supposed to do about that?

I let out a long, heavy sigh when the door bursts open.

“Eld! You’re alive!”

“Alive? I’d rather be dead!”

“Then here’s Ange’s special nutrient drink! One sip and you’ll stay awake for a full day!”

“Wait—what kind of help is *that*?!”

“Come on, you’ve gotta get moving somehow!”

“Yeah, I know…!”

Ange tilts her head, nodding with that little, knowing smile. All I can do is nod back.

“Then let’s go!”

“Hmph! I’m not letting this end until it’s done!”

I downed the nutrient drink in one gulp, straight from the cup.

Tastes better than I expected. A sweet scent tickled my nose, just a hint of fruit on my tongue.

"Hey, this is easy to drink."

"Taste’s already adjusted. And now—here we go."

"Wha—?!"

Seconds after swallowing, a hot, pulsing heat surged up from deep in my belly.

Oh! Feels like it’s working!

"How’s it feel? How’s it feel?"

"Unbelievable. It’s like energy’s flooding from inside my core."

"Then one more push—let’s keep going!"

"Right!"

I grabbed my pen again, diving back into the battle with the paperwork.

◇

In the capital of the Overd Empire, the high-ranking officials stood in rigid formation within the castle’s conference hall.

The air was thick with tension.

Word had reached them—certain and undeniable—that they’d suffered a defeat in battle against the Fatal Kingdom. And like echoes of that news, the neighboring nations were now stirring with frantic motion.

Every nation’s piling troops along the border with the Overd Empire, all ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

The Overd soldiers, broken by defeat at the hands of the Fatal and drained of strength and spirit, couldn’t possibly hold the line.

That cold truth had finally pierced the Overd Empire itself—those very same conquerors who’d acted like lords of the world for so long.

A deep silence hung in the air, then a trumpet announced the emperor’s arrival. From the shadowed side of the room, the Overd Empire’s emperor, Gandrois Visulberg Overd, stepped in.

Once seated, Gandrois swept his gaze across the high-ranking elders. His face was etched with deep weariness.

“Right then. Let’s begin the meeting. Chancellor—take the lead.”

“Hai. First, let’s review the Empire’s current state.”

The chancellor unrolled a map onto the table, moving pieces to show troop deployments around neighboring nations and where the Empire’s own forces were stationed.

“First, Fatal. After the last defeat, Fatal’s forces broke through the buffer zone and launched an invasion into our towns. They’ve seized seven of them now, stationed troops there, and taken control. To prevent them from getting any closer to the capital, we’ve placed our units in the towns adjacent to each one—keeping watch.”

“Is the current force enough to hold the line?”

The chancellor shook his head at the man’s question.

“Can’t say for sure. We’re monitoring the knights who stood out in the last battle, but reports say all of them are at Fatal’s base, repairing and resupplying. The troops deployed in the towns are centered around Abnomylere—if that info’s true, we’ll hold. But if the knight said to have taken down the First Seat shows up… everything could flip on its head.”

Despair itself. That’s what Eld is to the Empire.

Just the sight of Eld on the battlefield flips everything—our strategies, our victories, all turned upside down. Even assassination attempts get stopped, somehow, by someone or something we can’t see.

An enemy we can’t handle… still out there, near our borders. What else could you call that but despair?

“Still, we did receive a letter from the Fatal side. From what I’ve seen, it seems safe to assume no further invasion will come, yes?”

“And can you tell me what’s in it?”

“Your Majesty, is it alright?”

“Proceed.”

Gandlois gave a single nod. The chancellor pulled the letter from his pocket.

“It says… if the Empire shows willingness to cease hostilities, then we should offer a truce.”

“A truce… from us!?”

“Those fools… they’re telling *us* to bow our heads?”

“Overconfidence, that’s what!”

We’ve bowed our heads before—never our pride. But to be told, by them, to lower ourselves… that’s not just defeat. It’s humiliation.

Gandrois, even he thinks the same.

If there was anything left to do, I’d want to charge in right now and smash them flat.

The Abnomüle unit’s still intact. The Avila Bomb launch site’s deep inside the empire—still under our control.

It’s possible, if we tried. If it meant something—

But the Abnomüle unit’s already pinned down by Fatal’s own Abnomüle force. The Avila Bombs? Fatal’s set up active defenses. Already, they’re useless at nearly every key position.

So no matter what we try, it won’t hurt Fatal enough. And if we push too hard… we might just wake up the invasion that’s stopped now.

That’s not a choice an Overd Empire emperor can afford to make.

Didn’t notice Gandalois clenching his fists in shame, the chancellor went on.

“If we’re offering a truce, there are conditions attached.”

“Just hear me out.”

“Reveal the exact location of the Hyimagia Liquid refining facilities.”

“Wha—!?”

“Revealing the location of a refining facility? That’s like handing over your heart on a platter!”

“Exactly. We’re calling it a truce, but really it’s a surrender. If we agree to this, every nation’ll come rushing to seize the site. And we’d be forced to defend it—slowly losing ground, bit by bit, from the places we’re guarding.”

It’s a forced checkmate. The land we’ve expanded is being taken back, and what’s left won’t feed our people. We’ll inevitably need trade with other nations—but the alliance centered on Fatal blocks us from importing food properly.

Whether our nation crumbles and falls first… or gets eaten by some other country first.

The future was only two choices.

“Damn it… Fatal.”

“Can’t you think of anything?! That’s your job, isn’t it?!”

“Yes, it is. And I’ve already told His Majesty the plan.”

The chancellor answered with calm confidence.

Then turned his gaze toward Gandrois. Gandrois gave a single nod, stood up.

“We’ll ally with mercenaries. Now that we still have land, our income is greater than any other nation’s. So we’ll spend without hesitation—bring mercenaries into the empire, scatter and break through the eastern blockade.”

The Overd army’s strength was undeniably cut deep in this battle. But the empire has long-standing ties with mercenaries.

Hire mercenaries on an even greater scale than before, break through from the lands we once destroyed—then the empire won’t fall. Stand firm in total resistance, and even Fatal won’t dare move recklessly.

This was Overd’s last hope for survival.

“Our nation is not yet done. So long as I live, Overd will not stop its march across this world!”

With Gandalois’s fierce declaration, the empire’s course was set.

◇

N37,11,58 E19,36,20 This was the spot where Fatal’s reconnaissance unit had arrived.

Before them stretched an endless sea. Behind them, the desert they’d crossed lay vast and dry.

“The coordinates point right here…”

Bernard, in charge of the reconnaissance unit, squinted at the map and the coordinates, scanning the empty stretch around him. Nothing seemed to stand out.

“Now, there’s a chance something’s here…”

“Enemy mercenary intel, though. That traitorous princess. Who knows what’ll pop out of nowhere.”

“Stay sharp—let’s start the search. For now, we’ll focus on the coastline, combing the ground.”

‘Understood.’

Ten members of the unit scattered at once, beginning their search. Naturally, nothing showed up.

After about an hour, fatigue crept into every one of their movements. Bernard called a halt.

“Just wandering around won’t work, huh?”

“Could be we need a keyword. Or it only appears at certain times. Or… it’s all just a fake.”

“Should we wait a few days?”

“Dangerous, though?”

If the mercenaries’ intel’s right, other mercenaries might be using this place too.

If the enemy’s got the Armunale, we’d be wiped out in a heartbeat if they spot us.

“But we can’t just go back saying nothing’s there. At the very least, we need to figure out what this coordinate’s for.”

“Then I’ll have the desert camouflage tents readied. We’ll set up a bit inland from the coast.”

“Fine. Get the preparations going. I’ll scout the area a little more.”

“Understood.”

The troops begin setting up camp. In the meantime, Bernaard returns to the vantage point overlooking the shoreline.

The sea stretches out before him, dotted with tiny islands.

That’s when it hits him. Comparing the map, those islands are just barely within the coordinates.

“Is that it?”

But what the hell’s on that lone island anyway? The sea’s split off from it, and there’s not so much as a dock along this coast.

So if there’s anything on that island, they’d have to come all the way here by boat—just not from around here.

“Better keep an eye on the sea, just in case.”

If a big enough ship—big enough to carry Armunale—were floating near here, we’d spot it with the naked eye, no problem.

So Bernaard decided to set up twenty-four-hour watch on both the desert and the sea.

And three hours in, the anomaly came sooner than expected.

“Captain Bernaard!”

A soldier on sea watch called out, urgent, saying there was something you had to see.

“Found something?”

“Look at that.”

The soldier pointed. There, stretching from the shore to the lone island, was a single path—just a path—leading right across the water.

And not just sand—look at that, paved with stone too.

“Road?!”

“Low tide,” the soldier said. “When the saltwater recedes, the ground to the lone island pops up like magic.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Should we move now? If the path appears with the tide, it’ll vanish again later, right?”

“No, no rush. Just keep track of how long it stays exposed. Crossing over only to find the path swallowed by the sea? That’d be a joke no one’d laugh at.”

“Got it.”

Now the second princess’s information felt real—solid, even.

She didn’t drag us all the way here just to show off a weird sight on her deathbed. So whatever’s waiting on that island… it must be something worth hiring mercenaries for.

Bernard clenched his fist, eyes still locked on the island, heart steady.

After a full day of watching, we figured out the path only appears twice a day—roughly around midday and just before dusk.

"Tomorrow, I’m going in on that island. I’d like to talk about splitting the squad."

That night, after leaving a few men to keep watch, Berna gathered everyone and asked.

We’d always been all about stealth, small groups, and quiet exploration. Splitting the squad meant we might not have enough hands if things went south.

But if there was a trap on the island, and the ones who crossed got wiped out, Fatal wouldn’t get word back. So we’d split up—those who stayed behind would send the message if the others didn’t come back.

"Two squads? Not impossible… but risky."

"Very risky,"

I think going straight into that island feels a bit too rushed. Shouldn’t we wait and see a bit more first?

I agree. We’ve only checked the tide once today, and we can’t be sure the change happens in whole-day chunks.

I’m with you. Given how Ovard and the neighboring nations are moving, I think we should get the info to Lady Ines as soon as possible.

I’m okay with splitting up—but maybe we could cut the number of those left behind? The ones staying can just hide and wait, that’s all.

Hmm…

Bernard gathered everyone’s thoughts and spoke.

“Then we’ll wait one more day. If nothing changes by then, we’ll split the unit into three and seven—seven will cross over to the island.”

‘Got it!’

With that settled, Bernard and the others spent the night.

The second strange shift came before sunset the next day.

This time, the lookout on the desert side sent an emergency call.

They’d spotted Armunale in the distance. Black in color. No doubt about it—definitely the mercenaries’.

Bernard woke everyone from their nap, then had them dig up and bury every trace of their passage through the desert.

Then, they draped themselves in desert camouflage, blending into the vast dunes like just another patch of sand, and stepped out to meet the mercenaries.

Tension rippled through the group as the mercenaries approached along the coastline.

Just as the tide was receding, revealing a path to the sea.

They crossed it, naturally, as if it were nothing.

Those with binoculars all turned to watch them go.

“Still that island, huh.”

“What’s on it, though?”

“Just watch and see.”

Unaware of their eyes on them, the mercenaries crossed the path and reached the lone island.

In the next instant, the entire reconnaissance unit was struck dumb.

The island powered up—part of the forest split open like a door. The mercenaries vanished into the mouth without a second thought.

“This is the secret…”

“Still time left, though?”

“Twenty minutes. Plenty to cross.”

“Earlier than planned. Move out.”

Splitting into pre-arranged squads, seven of us crossed the path with Bernard leading.

By the time Bernard’s group arrived, the opening where the machine had gone was already shut tight. But if you looked close enough nearby, you’d find the hidden passage.

“Let’s go. From here on, hand signals only.”

We checked each other’s signals, quiet as shadows, slid through the door, and slipped inside.

No sentries in sight—just lamps strung along the stairs leading down into the dark.

We moved forward, checking our surroundings as a group.

The stairs went on forever—felt like they’d never end. But after a good ten minutes of descending, the view suddenly opened up.

“This…?”

Bernard forgot he was supposed to be stealthy, let out a breath without meaning to.

The scene before us was a town beneath the earth.

White smoke curled up from every corner, and life pulsed through the air like a living thing.

“The Second Princess’s intel… this is what it pointed to?”

A few more words slipped out before someone tapped my shoulder. I snapped back to myself.

A quick apology with my eyes, then a hand signal—keep moving, deeper in.

We kept to the alleys, eyes scanning. Factories stacked with scrap metal, the whole place humming with the same kind of energy as Fatal’s workshops.

It was obvious—mercenaries here were rebuilding the Armunale.

And if they were rebuilding it… then one thing nagged at me.

Bernard’s skin prickled all over.

He was certain—there was a Hyimagia Liquid refining facility here.

Should he double-check with his eyes?

If it was a Hyimagia Liquid refining facility, the mercenaries would be guarding it tight. Breaking in now, with our current crew, would be next to impossible. And if we were spotted—well, the whole thing could be moved before we even got close.

Then again… maybe I should just pass on this possibility and let the assault team handle it.

Bernard was still caught in thought when his subordinate slapped his shoulder again.

He shook himself—too lost in thought. Looking where the man pointed, he saw it: the Armunale, coming straight toward them.

The machine that had entered ahead of us.

Bernard made his decision. Retreat. He sent the hand signal instantly.

And so they slipped away from the town, quiet as a breath.