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Chapter: 45
The nobles who had opposed Claude’s decision sprang to their feet one after another. Among them, a middle-aged noble seated closest to Claude demanded an explanation.
“A wartime state, you say?! Your Grace, we haven’t all agreed to this yet—!”
“Count de Ville.”
Claude cut him off and fixed the middle-aged noble with a calm, steady gaze. He had spoken nothing more than the man’s name, yet the noble froze in place, unable to move.
“…Y-Yes, Your Grace.”
“You served briefly in the knight order during the previous lord’s era, didn’t you?”
“Th-That is correct.”
“Then you must have recited it until your ears bled. The creed of Loren.”
At those words, not only Count de Ville but all the opposing nobles lowered their heads, caught completely off guard. Claude swept his gaze lightly over them, then let out a disappointed hum.
“Surely you haven’t all forgotten? You, of all people—the heads of the houses that uphold Loren.”
“N-No, sir!”
“Then why don’t you recite it again, for old times’ sake?”
“L-Loren is one. Rejoice as though it were your own joy in times of happiness; shed tears together in times of sorrow; and when there is cause for rage, let all carry flames in their hearts.”
Count de Ville recited it on behalf of the group. Claude stepped closer and gave his shoulder two firm pats.
It could have been praise for doing well—or a warning to tread carefully.
“If a nation does not uphold its creed, it will fall.”
His voice was low and calm, yet unyielding, filled with quiet resolve as it echoed through the council chamber.
“Throughout history, the rulers of Loren have never turned away those in need. And now, from an allied land, a knight of Loren—who once devoted his sword to this country—has reached out for help. And more than that, it is a child of the same goddess as myself.”
“……”
“Is any reason greater than that required?”
“…No, Your Grace.”
Crushed beneath Claude’s presence and the creed of Loren itself, the opposing nobles finally raised the white flag.
Though they possessed the right to speak, the final authority lay with Claude. And after Pascal’s execution not long ago, none of the house heads dared to openly defy him.
“Division commanders, gather the knights currently on standby. Excluding the units necessary to defend our territory, prepare all remaining forces for deployment.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Marquis Langlois.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The marquis overseeing Loren’s military forces answered crisply.
“How many troops can we assemble, excluding the border guards?”
“Eight thousand regular soldiers. If we include the mercenary companies and militias stationed in Loren, we could muster up to fifteen thousand.”
“Exclude the militias. Mobilize over ten thousand—regular troops and mercenaries only. Also, work with Sir Bertot to ensure smooth coordination between the knight order and the common soldiers.”
“Understood.”
“Sir Bertot, gather all Aura Masters within the knight order. Form the ranks with the Masters at the core.”
“Yes.”
“And you house heads present here—provide material support to the best of your ability.”
With just a few words from Claude, the entire situation was brought under control. The nobles who had barked like enraged dogs at Jeanne earlier now tucked their tails between their legs before him.
Jeanne could not tear her eyes away from the sight.
Even after becoming king, Alexis often wavered, constantly mindful of the nobles’ reactions. Though she never voiced it, there had been many days when she felt disappointed in her liege.
But Claude was different. With only a handful of words, he subdued the nobles entirely. The way he dominated the room with gentle charisma—without a single act of violence or harsh word—was the very image of the ideal relationship between lord and vassal she had long envisioned.
If only I had chosen Claude from the start.
She would not be feeling this desperate or anxious now.
“We’ll end the meeting here.”
Before she knew it, the council had concluded. Having received their assignments, everyone filed out of the chamber in different directions. Jeanne turned her feet, intending to follow the division commanders back to the knight order.
“Jeanne.”
Claude called out, forcing her to stop. By then, everyone else had already left, leaving only the two of them in the room.
“…Yes, Your Grace.”
“Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t use honorifics when no one’s around?”
The Duke of Loren who had effortlessly commanded the nobles was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood Claude—Jeanne’s friend.
It would have hurt her pride to admit that his authority as a lord had overwhelmed her into speaking formally, especially when it was Claude of all people.
“I just… said it without thinking.”
She averted her gaze and scratched the back of her neck.
“What’s with that reaction?”
“What reaction?”
“I went against opposition to back you up, and you don’t even say thanks.”
Claude grumbled like a child demanding a reward for doing a good deed. There wasn’t even a trace of the imposing presence he’d shown the nobles.
She was dumbfounded—but it was true that she could deploy thanks to him.
“Th-Thank you.”
“Why are you being so obedient? That’s not like you.”
“……”
What was she supposed to do if he complained even after she thanked him?
Jeanne narrowed her eyes in warning, but Claude only chuckled softly.
Then he reached out and gently ruffled her hair. Startled by the sudden contact, Jeanne flinched.
“Wh-What are you doing all of a sudden?”
“Relax.”
His steady eyes and voice supported her.
“Your homeland won’t fall. Not ever.”
“……”
Normally, she would have brushed his hand away and told him to stop. But right now, she desperately needed those words—and that reassuring touch telling her everything would be fine.
* * *
Two days after the monster horde was discovered, the northern region of Rdel finally fell.
The valiant knights who had remained behind to fight until the end were reduced to nothing more than chunks of meat, strewn throughout the castle.
Crunch. Crack.
Locust-like monsters the size of humans mingled with ant monsters, tearing into the corpses. The sounds of flesh and bone being ripped apart were nauseating.
A man observed the scene from the highest point of the castle.
Unlike the other monsters, he bore a form close to human—but his skin was so pale that his veins were clearly visible. Though built like a seasoned warrior, his lips were tinged with the purplish hue of a corpse.
He was Abaddon—the king of insect-type monsters, the Demon King’s right hand, the destroyer who left no life in his wake.
He was recalling events from long ago.
[Wipe out the humans.]
The Demon King had issued only a single command.
The king’s orders were absolute. Some monsters settled in seas or forests, ambushing humans who approached. Others pretended to coexist with humans, slowly devouring them from within.
Neither approach suited Abaddon’s temperament. Killing a mere few dozen humans was unsatisfying, and pretending to be friendly disgusted him.
What he wanted was overwhelming power—slaughtering humans in an instant and watching the terror on their faces.
And so he waited. Deep beneath the northern and southern lands, he raised his brood, teaching them nothing but the instinct to slaughter humans.
When the time came, he would first erase Brien. Then Loren. Then the Kingdom of Hisar…
He intended to leave no trace of humanity on the continent.
But he failed.
Just as the northern regions of Brien were nearing total annihilation, Loren’s forces arrived from the north and Brien’s army from the south, exterminating his brood.
Determined to act personally next time, he gathered his strength and raised another army years later.
And once again—he failed.
[It was you. My father’s enemy.]
He was utterly defeated by a single human woman.
Before the divine power of the goddess’s child, he was completely helpless. Reduced to crawling pathetically across the ground as he tried to flee.
But the woman did not let him escape. She pursued him relentlessly.
[This is for my father.]
[Ghk!]
[This is for the people of Dongremian!]
[Kyaaaaaah!]
Pain tore through his entire body as darkness swallowed his vision.
That was the end of his life—or so he thought.
He opened his eyes again, back to a time before the attack on Brien had even begun. He knew exactly why his memories remained.
It must have been the Demon King…
Having awakened again, Abaddon resolved that this time, he would surely bring about humanity’s extinction—and that he would personally kill the woman who had slain him.
To that end, he devoured his own brood to replenish his power. The current Abaddon was far stronger than he had been before his regression.
[All southern forces, listen.]
Abaddon was a being both whole and many—a monster connected to his brood, able to communicate through thought alone.
[Continue slaughtering the humans. But if you find a child of the goddess with blond hair and green eyes, report to me immediately.]
[Kiiieeeeeek!]
The shrieks of his brood echoed through his mind, their bloodlust surging at his command.
After issuing his orders telepathically, Abaddon sent another mental directive to the subordinates feasting below the castle.
[From here, change the route to the southeast!]
The woman had spoken the name Dongremian. It was surely a place of great importance to her.
Abaddon crushed a human corpse beneath his feet and soared high into the sky. His soldiers followed after him.
Winged monsters darkened the heavens, while eight-legged beasts blackened the land below.
It will be most entertaining to trample that place before her very eyes.
