Translator: KJ

Imperial communication lines were installed along the northern mountain range held by the Mekerel army. The latest gas masks to defend against poison gas, along with massive quantities of weapons, were supplied as well.

Thanks to the Empire's invisible hand, Mekerel's northern front, which had been on the verge of collapse, was solidly reinforced.

Amid that fierce stalemate, Valkania did something bizarre.

They massacred civilians in 'Judas', the Mekerel city they had occupied.

To me, it felt like some kind of signal.

A prelude announcing that the Continental War was near, heralding the madness and the abyss that humanity would seize for itself.

Now we will march toward the extreme.

When people no longer regard people as people. When humans treat humans as beings less than human, massacre becomes justified.

But skin color can never be that standard. Neither can features like a hooked nose, blond hair, or golden eyes. Differences of race, differences of religion, none of these can ever serve as just cause to exterminate one another.

And yet, it cannot be helped.

Because an Otherworldly Species that mimics humanity exists, we have no choice but to wield our own madness.

Setting right every moral imperative, every human decency, is something only the living can do.

For in a world that has already perished, there would not even be lips left to argue right from wrong.......

——Vrrrrrrrr

Aboard the transport ship returning to the Empire, I am reading a book.

Rustle─ rustle─

It is the scripture I stole from Rundar. Unfortunately, there are no Ezenheim ciphers or anything of the sort, only pure doctrine written inside.

"What are you reading this time, Max?"

Leon, sitting across from me, asked with curious eyes.

"The Ezent scripture."

"Hmm~ But you know, Max, I was surprised."

"By what."

Leon smiled.

"The Ezenheim in Rundar. I thought you'd kill them all."

I lifted my eyes from the book.

Looking at Leon, I smiled faintly.

"I will kill them."

Thud!

The interior of the transport ship lurched violently for an instant.

"It's just not the time yet."

Not yet. Even exterminating them requires public opinion. Once war breaks out, that enclave can be buried without any burden at all. There's no need to wipe it out now and tarnish the Empire's image.

"Fair enough~ So how's the scripture? Anything useful in it?"

I lowered my eyes again.

"The way I see it...... the religion is thoroughly warped from its very foundations."

The doctrine they serve, the way they view the world and life, is completely different from the Empire's mainstream faith.

"Yeah? Then they really are a rotten bunch."

For my part, sudde⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌nly— a thought struck me.

Perhaps they had deliberately created the very reasons for their own persecution.

"......That they are."

For monsters who exploit even their own deaths would do anything, truly anything, to achieve their cause.

* * *

......The Empire is changing. At the very least, it is far stronger than it was before my Regression.

Its military strength has already taken shape, and its internal cohesion has hardened as well.

Above all, a knight order wieldin⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌g formidable power has come to stand firm, able to check the Imperial Guard's abuses head-on.

But I had overlooked one rather crucial fact, one capable of shaking the Empire's very foundations.

Dieter Schmidt.

The genius who, before my Regression, had become Chancellor and single-handedly led the Empire as it stood on the brink of collapse, was now my right hand.

To put it another way, the Empire's internal administration now has no Dieter. And it never will.

The Empire's current finances, as Dieter had assessed them from the outside, were festering to the core.

The munitions industry runs on promissory notes circulating in the market, but the scale of that debt has already swollen beyond what the Empire can bear.

The money flowing through the various industries that appear to be booming is all promissory notes as well.

Which means, in effect, none of it actually exists.

But all of this crisis functions as yet another weapon under the circumstances of 'war'.

"We can propagandize this as an economic attack by foreign capital."

In a secret room prepared within my mansion. There, Johann Georg spoke.

On the foundation of Dieter Schmidt's meticulous finances, Johann weaves the framework of propaganda that manipulates the masses.

The collaboration of two geniuses who will be counted among the greatest in the Empire's history is, to me, like a perfectly tuned orchestra.

"In fact, we will fabricate the origins of a portion of those bad notes to trace back to overseas capital."

Beside him, Dieter added, adjusting his glasses.

The Empire's internal economy teeters precariously on notes the Empire itself guarantees.

But what if some links in those notes' chain of circulation were cunningly connected to shell companies established overseas?

"The greedy capital of foreign powers seeks to bring down the Empire's economy."

It doesn't even need to be on a massive scale. The masses only believe what they want to believe, after all.

If the aim is to use it as kindling for propaganda that ignites a nation's fury, even the smallest fact is more than enough.

"Such propaganda will practically weave itself together."

Johann added with a deep smile.

The notes' maturity dates and the timing of the war the Empire will ignite are interlocked almost perfectly. To repay the debt and quell internal discontent, war is indispensable.

And onto that unavoidable war is added even the pretext of 'the scheming of foreign powers who fear the Empire'.

"Furthermore, we need full-scale military agitation to support this."

Johann's eyes glinted.

"For the sake of the great cause...... that will soon be upon us."

We call this war 'the great cause'. I agree. There is no ambition greater than the survival of humanity.

"The war's first flashpoint will most likely be Volska."

I tapped the map.

Volska. A neutral nation bordering the Empire's northeastern frontier, yet belonging to no part of the Eastern Alliance. At the same time, it maintains diplomatic and trade relations with various Western nations, making it a country where smuggling, money laundering, and disguised trade run rampant across the entire continent.

In the history before my Regression as well, the Continental War's first cannon fire rang out in Volska.

After all, the terms of the 'non-aggression pact' the Empire and the Eastern Alliance would come to sign involved splitting Volska's territory exactly in half and devouring it between them.

"Yes, sir. Then we will plant operatives of our own inside the Volskan military."

The wheel called war is slowly rolling toward us—

Brrr⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌ing.

Just then, the terminal rang.

An intriguing report from Schatz, one of my closest aides, who was not present at this meeting.

"......I'll head there shortly."

It was news I had rather been waiting for.

* * *

Arthur Winston, a Councilor of the island nation of Highland, a great power rivaling Prozen, arrived at the Empire's western border.

Stepping down onto the station platform with his family, he met the companions he had contacted in advance.

"Ah~ It's been a while."

Stephen, a Highland professor who frequently visited the Imperial Central University, and Lieutenant Colonel Collins, who would accompany them on this trip.

"Good to see you all."

Arthur Winston and his family exchanged warm greetings, then boarded the vehicle that had been waiting for them.

"Sir Arthur. What is our itinerary?"

Lieutenant Colonel Collins asked as he drove.

"Nothing much, really. Just retracing my ancestor's footsteps and heading home."

Arthur Winston's reason for coming to the Empire was clear. To write the biography of his grandfather, a war hero of the past.

"You're a man of standing. Is it really all right for you to come to the Empire so unguarded?"

Collins asked in a half-joking tone.

"I'm just a private citizen retired from politics, am I not? For the time being, I intend to live as a writer."

He planned to see with his own eyes the old battlefields his grandfather had once roamed, and to take photographs to include in the biography.

Lieutenant Colonel Collins chuckled.

"Oh, right. Professor Eschenbach says he'd like to invite you to his residence, Sir Arthur."

"Well, that's kind of him."

Arthur Winston's eyebrows rose with interest.

Eschenbach was one of the foremost intellects in the Empire, a man of moderate temperament who often exchanged ideas with scholars from other nations.

"First, you'll need to stay a night at a hotel in the western city. You should rest off the journey."

"Let's do that."

The vehicle carrying the party left the station and arrived at a luxury hotel in the western city center.

Click, click.

His daughter Sarah took photo after photo of the scenery beyond the car window with her ca⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌mera.

[Cruzio Hotel]

The hotel lobby. Arthur Winston suddenly noticed glances flickering toward them from all around, but he dismissed it as mere curiosity toward foreigners from another land and made himself look away.

Guided by a staff member, they went up to the top floor.

"Oho. Spacious."

They arrived at the room and unpacked their luggage.

"Dad, can't we go to an art museum or something later? I heard a really beautiful one just opened in the central district."

His daughter Sarah tugged at Arthur's lapel, pleading. Word of the Empire's central Arte Museum had recently become famous even in Highland.

"I'm afraid we won't have time for that. The Empire is a more dangerous place than you'd think."

Arthur soothed his daughter, stroking her hair.

"Hmph...... but still......."

"Behave yourself, and who knows."

"......Ye⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌s, Dad!"

Afterward, just as they had showered and were about to take a brief rest.

Knock, knock-

An unexpected knock broke the penthouse's silence.

"......?"

Puzzled, Arthur walked over and opened the door. Outside stood Imperial soldiers in jet-black uniforms, their faces expressionless.

They were members of the Imperial Guard.

Arthur faltered for a moment, but soon asked with composure.

"What is this about?"

"Identification."

The Guard member jerked his chin up and spat out the word.

"Identification. Hand it over."

"I don't...... quite understand what this is about."

The Guard member's Imperial Language and Arthur's Highland Language crossed in midair, neither reaching the other.

"I said hand over your identification!"

"What on......."

Just as Arthur's temper began to flare at the soldier's rough tone.

Lieutenant Colonel Collins hurried out from inside the room. Fluent in the Imperial Language, he volunteered to interpret.

"He's asking for your identification, Sir Arthur."

"Ah."

Arthur drew his passport from his coat and handed it over, but the Guard member who took it instead glared at Lieutenant Colonel Collins, who had just answered in the Imperial Language.

Close-cropped hair, a ramrod-straight posture, a razor-sharp gaze.

A soldier's bearing cannot be hidden, even out of uniform.

"You. You're a soldier, aren't you?"

The Guard member looked Collins up and down, his mouth twisting. Collins saw no need to lie.

"......I serve in the Highland military. But this time I'm accompanying him purely as a private escort."

"And how are we supposed to believe that?"

"What are you talking about?"

Collins's brow furrowed.

"I'm asking how we're supposed to know you're not a spy here to surveil the Empire's military facilities, or an agent come to survey our terrain and smuggle the data out."

"......Do you people even know who this man is-"

"No need to know."

Snap, snap.

Ignoring Collins, the Guard member snapped his fingers.

"We're searching the premises. Move."

Five or six more Guard members emerged from behind. They barged in roughly, their combat boots trampling the carpet.

"What is the meaning of this outrageous behavior?!"

Arthur Winston's face flushed red with fury, but the Guard members paid him no mind.

They overturned the family's suitcases, slashed open the pillows and the rest of the bedding with knives, and reduced the room to a shambles.

At the monstrous scene, his daughter Sarah and his wife screamed.

—And then.

"Found it!"

One Guard member shouted, pulling something out of Arthur's briefcase.

They were maps detailing the battlefield terrain of the old Western War, along with photographs of military deployment charts. Materials Arthur had copied from the Highland archives to write his ancestor's biography.

"Ha, these sons of bitches. I knew it."

So they were spy bastards disguised as tourists after all. The Guard member flapped the map and let slip a laugh dripping with malice.

.......

A wealthy district in the Empire's center, the mansion of the Eschenbach family.

"......Hmm."

Arnolt von Eschenbach, a scholar of continental renown, sat in his study tilting his head as he waited for a guest who did not come.

Two cups of black tea sat cold on the table, and the academic volume he had finished to soothe the wait was already his third.

"He's not the sort of man to be this late......."

Arthur Winston of Highland.

Though they hailed from different nations, the friendship built through scholarly exchange had proven him a man of thorough character who kept his appointments to the minute.

Surely such a man would never break an engagement without so much as a word.

"Father!"

Bang—!

The study door was flung open as Arnolt's son came rushing in.

His usual composure nowhere to be found, his son's deathly pale face and ragged breathing struck Arnolt with an instant sense of foreboding.

"Sir Arthur Winston and his companions...... they say they've just been arrested by the Imperial Guard on charges of espionage and taken away!"

* * *

──Before my Regression, there was an incident like this.

Arthur Winston.

A noble of distinguished lineage from the western Kingdom of Highland. For now, no more than a Councilor, and even that, one who has temporarily stepped back from his faction. But a titan who would one day rise to the seat of Highland's Prime Minister and become the linchpin of the Western Alliance.

In his days as a private citizen, before he had gained any power, he had once come to the Empire to write some biography of his ancestor.

But his innocent intentions ended with him being mistaken for a spy by a certain Imperial Guard officer blinded by excessive loyalty and desperate for results.

─Several Highlanders have been arrested and taken to an Imperial Guard annex.

The report delivered through Schatz's intelligence network.

In that history, Arthur Winston was abducted from his hotel and subjected to brutal beatings and torture, and only after fierce protests from the Highland government was he finally released and deported to his homeland.

Looking back now, it was an utterly absurd blunder.

The incident put Highland sharply on guard against the Empire, and Arthur Winston's political profile soared.

He also became an anti-imperialist to the marrow, spearheading Highland's military buildup and an anti-Imperial alliance.

It was an incident in which the Empire handed a political gift to the Empire's own enemy.

"How much longer?"

"We'll arrive in five minutes."

Right now, I am on my way to personally meet the man the Imperial Guard dragged away.

"......."

Watching the Empire's scenery flow past the car window, I sink into deep thought.

It is a question of choice.

Arthur Winston, who will one day become a great menace to the Empire. Would it be right to kill him here in advance, and eliminate the threat?

Or.

Would it be right to instead keep him alive, unharmed and treated with courtesy, and deal with him in my own way?

"Sir Knight. This is the place."

The car stopped. An agent stepped out first and opened the rear door.

Gazing at the Imperial Guard building spread out in the distance, I let out a long sigh.

This time...... it is a genuine dilemma.

~~~

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