bookworm

THE EMPIRE MAKES ITS MOVE
The Empire had a mystery man among its ranks. His name was Tatsuya Kondo—an otherworlder who knew everything there was to know about the imperial underground. He was the imperial capital’s darkness itself.
Tatsuya kept his black hair short and tidy, his bangs flowing gently down toward his eyes, and he had a relaxed, if well-honed, manner of carrying himself. On the surface, he seemed like a nice young man, still in his early twenties. But on the inside, he was cold and calculating, eyes glinting from his barren face. They seemed sharp enough to see through anyone they looked at—not friendly, but clever and cunning. It was only to be expected…for First Lieutenant Kondo wasn’t at all the age he seemed.
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Here in the imperial capital, otherworlders were not too uncommon a sight. The Empire pledged to safeguard them, and they had been collected from all around the world. Tatsuya was one such person rescued by this plan…and it entirely had to do with the magic that existed in this realm.
Over seventy years ago, Tatsuya risked his life for the sake of his country and served in a special military operation—a kamikaze squadron ordered to strike enemy naval fleets. Tatsuya had no comment on the need for this mission. Looking back on how things were those days, all he thought was, well, there was nothing else he could do. He just looked back at the men who lived and died serving under him and hoped he could find some kind of meaning in their actions.
Even now, he never forgot about them. And to make sure of that—so he could continue living with the memory of his comrades—he retained the same rank of first lieutenant that he held back then.
So Tatsuya had headed off to his death—but with a flash of explosive heat and light, he instead found himself in another world. He felt death at arm’s length, but rather he survived.
It was the emperor himself who saved Tatsuya. Luck was on Tatsuya’s side that day.
He appeared in a garden accessible by only the emperor and a few close associates. The emperor happened to be relaxing there that very moment.
“How interesting,” Tatsuya heard a voice say. “Perhaps this is fate at work.” Then he passed out, and when he woke up, he was completely intact, not a scratch on him. His luck had saved his life—the same life he’d once abandoned, which he now swore to use to repay the emperor’s kindness. All the powers he awoke to after his journey across worlds, and his brush with death, he gave to the emperor. That remained true to this very day.
He never appeared on the public stage. He never aged, looking exactly as he did back then. And there, in the imperial intelligence office nestled in the capital’s shadow, deep in the Empire’s darkness, he could be found.
A mysterious figure stalking the halls of information; a man hidden behind the Empire’s shadow. A human; a wrangler of evil.
Tatsuya Kondo went by many monikers. He was the head of the Imperial Information Bureau, and he was feared as a question mark—one not even the commander of each division could ignore.
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The IIB had picked up information that Gadora sent a team led by Shinji to conquer the Dungeon.
“Ah. I see. Good work.”
First Lieutenant Kondo was a quiet man. He said no more than that. His informant, used to this treatment, saluted and left—Kondo was never one to state his thoughts to others.
The report submitted to him contained detailed information on Yuuki’s men. Over a thousand otherworlders had been collected from around the world. A little under a tenth of them had awoken to zero unique skills; these men and women were set up in the imperial capital and allowed to live their lives in peace. A little over a tenth had battle-oriented unique skills; they numbered over a hundred, and each was assigned to the division that best suited their abilities. The rest were referred to nonmilitary professions based on their skill set, finding useful work in a vast variety of professions.
Right then, the problem was that the otherworlders awakened to battle skills. Yuuki Kagurazaka was the founder of the Free Guild in the Western Nations, serving as grand master until a year ago, and he harnessed that power to rescue otherworlders. That, at least, was how Yuuki described himself, but the IIB already knew that was a lie.
Trends indicated that he had grown friendly with the Rozzo family, taking advantage of their influence. The IIB knew that the West was proceeding with an illicit, forbidden summoning program that had led to large numbers of otherworlders in their lands. There was no other explanation for why they had so many battle-oriented ones in their possession. Through the use of a locking curse, it was also possible to force the summoned into an irreversible oath of loyalty. These summons were the best way to build a team that was guaranteed never to betray you—and now those otherworlders were deployed in a variety of militaries.
Kondo saw this as grave news. An imminent danger. He had consummate perception skills and an intuition that was truly fearsome. And Kondo was right to be concerned. The results were revealed in this report—based on his words and actions since moving to the Empire, the Imperial Information Bureau believed there was a high probability that Yuuki was going to launch a coup attempt.
They also had a list of the people Yuuki had tapped for the effort. Based on his achievements, the Empire had accepted his request for asylum, but he didn’t seem to appreciate it much. Instead, he did his own thing, working hard to expand his power and putting his handpicked associates into each army division. Several of them had even been appointed Imperial Knights, one of the Empire’s highest honors. The army division was one thing, but allowing traitors into the Imperial Guardians—the force built to protect His Majesty the Emperor—simply wasn’t allowable.
Kondo could no longer let this slide. This is dangerous, he decided. Yuuki Kagurazaka, you are clearly someone who deserves to be eliminated.
Now, however, was not the time to act. Lord Gadora, master sorcerer and one of the most powerful people in the Empire, was reportedly connected to Yuuki. They had evidence to back up this report, but it was unclear just how deep this relationship was. Lord Gadora’s importance to the Empire went without saying. Kondo doubted he’d turn traitor on a passing whim—but he also knew that he worked alongside the Empire chiefly because his goals matched the state’s ideals. Perhaps, then, some trigger might put his goals in conflict with the Empire.
If it ever does, that old man is just as dangerous. In which case…
Yuuki…and Gadora.
Yuuki looked like just a boy, but his actions indicated the touch of an experienced man. Like Kondo himself, he was too dangerous a subject to judge on looks alone. Gadora looked like an aged man, but he was much more than that—a living monster, really, having lived for over a thousand years. Anyone who wanted to oppose him couldn’t go in with a halfhearted approach.
So it was time to gather information. They had evidence, but there still wasn’t enough intel. For now, it was too early to move out in the open. He would carefully investigate each of Yuuki’s otherworlders and examine whether any had locking curses upon them.
But if Yuuki or Gadora made any suspicious moves…
“…Don’t expect a public trial.”
First Lieutenant Kondo, the man hidden behind the Empire’s shadow, would never give mercy to traitors.
“Dance on, won’t you, for the sake of the Empire. Both of you are already in my hands.”
There, in the darkness of the Empire, Kondo softly whispered to himself, a cold light in his eyes.
Inside an office with an ornate desk, a one-eyed man was seated in a luxuriant chair. A patch covered his left eye; he was skinny and appeared in his forties. His name was Caligulio, and he was commander of the Armored Division, the most powerful force in the Empire.
On the desk before him were several magic crystals—pure, high-quality examples, known sources of magical energy. With technology provided by Yuuki, these crystals—taken from the cores of monsters—could be refined into magistones, turning them into a reliable, mass-produced magic source.
Monsters would occasionally drop natural magistones, but these could only be collected from those ranked A and above—and having the huge magicule count to prove it. These natural magistones were unparalleled in quality, most often used as decoration or magic catalysts than for their content. Unless one had a steady supply of them, they were useless as an energy source.
Caligulio reached out and grabbed a magic crystal from the desk. The more he observed it, the more he realized just how high-quality it was. He put it back down, already missing the feeling of it in his hand, and picked up the report that came with these specimens.
It was from their research lab. It stated that magic crystals of this quality could each produce a hundred Empire-made magistones. They were pure enough to turn into energy as is, and naturally collecting crystals of this standard would require at least a B-rank monster.
“Damn you, Gadora! Keeping such a moneymaking opportunity under your hat…”
Caligulio was angry. He had paid off the researchers, telling them to inform him of any developments, and this report was the result. Gadora had only just brought in these magic crystals; he didn’t say where they were collected, but based on their number, Caligulio surmised he stumbled across a monster nest. They were first-rate specimens, after all, and testing indicated they all contained around the same amount of energy. You couldn’t see this consistency from harvesting different species at once—some variance would be unavoidable, and you’d have to refine them into magistones for practicality’s sake.
No, these magic crystals were surprisingly similar in quality, indicating they all came from the same species of monster. Caligulio didn’t expect to be able to tame these monsters (whatever they were) and raise them in captivity, but even regularly scheduled culls would help the Empire shore up its energy mix.
However, it appeared things were far more complicated.
Caligulio’s face twisted into a longing grin. The report concluded that securing whatever hunting ground produced these magic crystals would put them a long way toward a steady energy supply. And they had more than a vague idea where these monsters lived. In fact, they had the exact spot—the heavily rumored Dungeon, located within the demon lord Rimuru’s domain.
“That damned old man’s been giving too much attention to that kid Yuuki. I hardly see him any longer. How dare he try to hoard this opportunity for himself!”
This was the origin of Caligulio’s annoyance.
And that wasn’t all. A high-level noble he was on good terms with informed him of a rather interesting story. He, along with many of his kin, didn’t bother hiding their glee when they told him that Gadora had gone off to investigate this Dungeon—and lost three of his apprentices to it.
This would normally elicit little more than a bit of sympathy, but what Gadora brought back was the problem. It turns out he didn’t just come home with magic crystals—he brought treasure, too. Among them was a sword currently decorating Caligulio’s office, a pristine example of magisteel make that clearly required great skill to forge. It was a truly excellent piece, one only the finest artisans of the Dwarven Kingdom were capable of—in fact, considering the metal’s purity, it was even better than that. Nothing circulating within the Empire compared.
Caligulio had purchased this sword from his well-placed noble friend, part of a set of three, one of which he already handed over to this division’s technical department. The noble boasted about how it was “a rare find, perhaps infused with some mysterious power,” and he encouraged Caligulio to invest in them—even though Gadora had presented them to the noble at no charge. Caligulio asked why Gadora gave them away for free, and the noble demurred—“You know I can’t tell you,” he had bragged.
So the commander paid a total of three hundred gold coins, a hundred per blade. Even he was curious about them, and after purchasing the set, the noble finally agreed to give him a few hints.
Caligulio himself was from lower-level nobility, making it up to division commander exclusively through talent. Since the Empire was a pure meritocracy, he technically outranked the upper-crust noble he got the swords from, since his title was based on birthright alone. Normally, he wouldn’t give someone like Caligulio the time of day—but thanks to his rank, he had to at least feign politeness.
I’m sure he’s still turning up his nose at me, but that doesn’t matter. Right now, I need to figure out how to exploit them for all they’ve got.
The upper nobility never took action unless they stood to gain something from it. None of them were soft enough to tell him anything out of the goodness of their hearts. No, there must’ve been some cold number-crunching behind their reaching out and telling him about Gadora’s findings. Essentially, they had put Caligulio and Yuuki on opposite sides of the scale.
“I can’t believe how utterly greedy those nobles are! But look at you, Gadora. How dare you lobby the nobility to send the Composite Division to capture the labyrinth! You could have recommended my division, but noooo… I can’t believe he’s still sore about me taking the Armored Division from him…”
The Armored Division had just completed a major modernization campaign, thanks to Gadora’s support. Its head count had grown tens to hundreds of times over, but Gadora had absolutely no command over it. Caligulio was sure Gadora envied him for that.
“But fine. My noble informants were certainly a stroke of good luck. Now I can give them all the slip and claim this prize for my force.”
Winning over the upper-crust nobility, of course, came at a price. If Caligulio did claim that prize, a decent percentage of it would have to go into their pockets. But he still didn’t think it was a bad deal.
This labyrinth produces more than just magic crystals. This sword is simply excellent—Rare class now, maybe Unique class in a hundred years. Even faster, perhaps, given how much magisteel they used. This alone proves how valuable the labyrinth would be in my hands!
That was why Caligulio went through the effort of winning over the nobles.
Now he was thinking about how he’d continue to fund this effort, going forward—but in the back of his mind, there was one nagging doubt.
…But what could that slot be for anyway?
The well-placed noble mentioned a “mysterious power,” and he was sure that was straight from Gadora’s mouth. Caligulio couldn’t detect anything like that—but the empty slot on the hilt intrigued him. What could it mean? He had no way of telling. That’s why he gave one to his technical department, but their analysis wasn’t done yet.
Of course, unlike in the West, the sword era’s well and truly over in the Empire anyway…
He was right. No matter what kind of value was locked inside this sword, it meant little to his modernized division. Only a well-trained warrior could get much use out of it—one like Caligulio himself or his close advisers. That was why he couldn’t wait to hear the results.
A few days later, Caligulio received an astonishing report.
“Allow me to explain,” said his chief technician, who came over to deliver the analysis in person. Following a scientific examination, they had discovered quite a few things. For one, the slot wasn’t a design touch. It was an energy absorption device, a vehicle for the efficient production of magic. This wasn’t a sword at all—it was really more of a magic launcher.
“This is from the demon lord Rimuru? …Then we sure can’t make light of him, no. What an interesting idea.”
“Absolutely so. I believe it’s meant to confuse opponents into believing it’s a close-range weapon, only to surprise them with magic. And if the right energy supply is inserted into a slot, the caster—or the wielder, I suppose, in this case—can cast magic with no effort at all.”
Yes, the most unique aspect of this weapon was how it let people nonsensitive to magic cast their own spells. It just flew in the face of common sense.
“But,” the chief technician asked, “are you sure this was discovered inside the labyrinth?”
“Yes, we’re sure about that. I sent some of my own men to the scene, and they backed up everything Gadora told us.”
Caligulio had sent a team of his own to the monster city of Rimuru to gather intel on the labyrinth. Their investigation hit a brick wall around the Floor 40 region, but a merchant gave them an interesting bit of info. Apparently these slotted weapons were discovered inside the labyrinth, and while they went at a premium on the market, they were still cheaper than Unique-class arms.
“So what are they for…?”
“Hmph! Think about it a little. We only approve a new weapon after extensive testing, don’t we?”
The chief technician was an intelligent man, but not at all a tactician. Only when Caligulio spelled it out for him did he understand their usefulness.
“Ah, I see… So they’re putting them in the hands of that massive crowd of adventurers and having them examine their performance? That does make logical sense. When we placed a magistone into this slot, the sword immediately went up a rank and became a powerful magic sword, but we don’t think their utility ends there. They’d need to experiment a great deal more to gain a full picture of it. I’m sure it would take them years.”
“Right! So instead, they’re more or less passing ’em out at random and letting the masses test them. And once they have all the data they need, I’m sure they’re planning to take them all back.”
Caligulio had, to some extent, accurately read Rimuru’s motives. Based on his own experience, he knew an experiment like this would take time to conduct. For now, these were strictly test weapons—but it’d still be dangerous to let them buy any more time. Humans were strange and interesting creatures; some of them had a knack for stumbling upon the kernel of something brilliant, especially those who willingly exposed themselves to danger.
“It really is a smart idea,” he mused. “Literally conducting human experiments in a lab where nobody would ever die.”
“We were told this bracelet was required for that, but our analysis hasn’t produced any reportable results yet. If the rumors about that are true, it’d certainly be a boon to military training, wouldn’t it?”
The chief technician took out a carefully sealed box and showed it to Caligulio. Inside was a Resurrection Bracelet, one of the treasures Gadora brought back.
“I’m sure this example’s a fake, of course. Regardless, if our army can capture this labyrinth…”
If it did, and discovered this bracelet system to be the truth, the results for his force would be beyond substantial.
“Hohh… You are an ambitious man, Sir Caligulio. But are you prepared to fight a demon lord over it?”
“Of course I am. It’d be a bad move to challenge him for no reason, but the Forest of Jura is right in the middle of our invasion route, and this labyrinth’s at a spot we can’t possibly ignore. Someone has to capture it.”
“Hee-hee-hee… Well, it’s all in how you frame it, I suppose.”
They exchanged a chuckle over this.
“Think about it, after all. In one fell swoop, we can secure a stable magic crystal supply and an efficient test space—and maybe the enemy’s latest new weapons, if all goes well.”
“In that case, it’s imperative the Armored Division captures it before someone else does, isn’t it, Sir Caligulio?”
“No need to remind me. You can expect big news before long.”
The chief technician gave this a pleased smile. Caligulio returned the favor with a thin smile of his own.
“It’d seem the old man is losing his wits, though,” said the technician.
“‘Seem’? Oh, I’m sure of it. He’s so distracted by the magic crystals, he failed to realize this sword—and the labyrinth itself—is the real prize.”
“One unfortunate side effect of focusing so much on magic, no doubt. After all, a weapon that can change its rank is nothing short of a breakthrough.”
Caligulio believed his technician was right. Gadora was a great man, but the age of pure magic was over. A new wind called science was blowing across the land, and that combined with magic heralded the beginning of a new era.
And that, you see, is why I’m better qualified to lead the Armored Division. That old man could’ve won my respect if he only knew where his place was. But if he’s going to recruit Yuuki for his schemes, I see no need to show him mercy.
As he thought this, Caligulio began formulating a plan. Attempting to take on multiple demon lords would be ill-advised, but Rimuru alone would not be a problem. The Storm Dragon—one of the Empire’s most fervent desires—was targeted for a takedown. They had a new weapon, developed by Caligulio himself, and with it they’d force the Storm Dragon to do their bidding. If they pulled it off, it’d pay huge dividends, even if it required some sacrifice…and yet Lord Gadora remained staunchly against it. That was the last straw, the one thing that made Caligulio and Gadora part ways.
Pfft! Once we tame that evil dragon, the demon lord slime will be a pushover. Then we’ll prove to the masses that we are the strongest force in the Empire!
The time had come, and Caligulio couldn’t be more excited. He’d break the nose of Gadora for all his insolence, and he’d firm his position within the Empire for good. But before he could, he needed to prove himself—he needed the dragon tamed, and the labyrinth captured, by his Armored Division.
And to make that happen…
“It is time to march. I will make the proposal at the next Imperial Council.”
“Ah, the day’s finally here…”
Caligulio nodded. No need to wait for all their demon lord preparations to wrap up. He was ready to shut the mouths of anyone using that as an excuse for hesitation.
You won’t get your head start, Gadora. And Yuuki—I bet you’re ecstatic to have Gadora on your side, aren’t you? Well, I’m about to teach you exactly where you belong.
He sneered at all his foolish colleagues. They had every chance to gain valuable information, and they let it go by without even realizing it. They were all a bunch of imbecilic wannabes anyway—Caligulio was sure of it.
But even as he derided his peers, his mind never stopped working. How could he glean the most profit from this? He thought this over as he began to assemble his full proposal to the emperor.
And with that, the Empire would begin to move.
The Imperial Council was about to begin.
The military officers—and the civil officials, too, seated in a neat row—were all nervous. This was not a peacetime gathering, and nobody else even dared venture near the great conference hall where the Council took place. Things were different with this meeting; everyone could feel it.
Everyone bowed their heads when the emperor’s entry was announced. Behind the blind, they could sense someone—the United Emperor Ludora Nam-ul-Nasca, supreme leader of the Nasca Namrium Ulmeria United Eastern Empire, the world’s greatest military superpower. He never spoke directly to the masses; only through the blind could one be privy to his presence. He was the apex of society, and only his closest associates even laid eyes upon him. Simply being there overwhelmed all nearby. He was the sole commander, the absolute, and just a very small handful of people were permitted to voice their opinions around him.
Nearly two hundred people were assembled in the meeting hall. The commanders of each imperial division were there, along with their aides. So were the elite members of the Imperial Guardians, standing at attention in a clean, well-practiced line. Government ministers, and members of the House of Lords, filled the chamber’s seats—a truly distinguished group of people, all with their heads bowed as one.
Only the rustling of clothes echoed in the silence.
Then all sound disappeared. With that signal, the prime minister motioned toward the chief of protocol.
“His Majestyyyyy the Emmmperorrrrrr!!”
Everyone in the chamber voiced their greeting in unison, breaking the stillness like a mighty choir. So began the Imperial Council—one that would doubtlessly go down in history, for they were scheduled to debate the Empire’s upcoming invasion.
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The meeting solemnly began.
With regards to the large-scale campaign in the works, opinions among the Council were divided into two factions—a cautious, conservative side and the more enthusiastic among those calling for war.
The first topic for discussion: What pretense would they use to launch the war? It was a silly question—the emperor willed it, and so it shall be. But was war possible? That’s where opinions differed. One side called for careful action; the other, an all-out trouncing. Meanwhile, the civil officials argued that they should begin with diplomatic efforts—a call to surrender, for example, or some threats to lay on the pressure.
If the emperor believed the time for war had come, no one had the authority to defy him—but the imperial edict had yet to arrive, and so every side brought their own motivations to this Council. The war was a matter of time; how to wage it was the issue. The demon lords, their domains dotted across the continent, were an annoyance, but none of them would take action unless their borders were violated. The real obstacle was the Storm Dragon, and the debate subsequently turned toward the Forest of Jura.
One Council member voiced his opposition to the war.
“If I may, Your Majesty, I am against this campaign.”
This was Lord Gadora, the Empire’s greatest sorcerer, and he spoke without a hint of fear.
“How shamelessly timid! You bring this up yet again, Sir Gadora?”
He was rebuffed by Commander Caligulio of the Armored Division. This happened every time—they were the leaders of their respective factions, conservative and belligerent.
“If we want to strike the West, that will not be an issue—but Veldora, that evil dragon, lurks in the Forest of Jura. We have only confirmed the dragon’s revival two years ago. How could we not be cautious?”
Some voices agreed. Others derided Gadora for his weakheartedness.
Over three hundred years had now passed since the Veldora massacre; the terror it caused had largely faded from people’s minds. The war hawks formed the majority faction; the situation didn’t look as good for Gadora’s side.
Caligulio, sensing this, decided to fan the flames.
“There is much, my lord, we can learn from your more cautious stance. However, as I’ve said here many times before, we now have foolproof measures against Veldora. With our new weapon, it is now fully possible to make that dragon bow to our commands!”
“That is absurd! This is not a forum to talk about your dreams, Sir Caligulio. Nobody can deny the possibility of it failing, so why would we not be cautious? Especially now, when the entirety of the forest is ruled over by a new demon lord! They say demon lords never form alliances, but there’s no reason to go out of our way to antagonize one. We have word that the dragon is revived and working in a partnership with Rimuru, the new demon lord. And with any demon lord, the proper way to go about things is with a nonaggression pact!”
The Valley of Death that linked the Empire with the former domain of Clayman was large enough to march a large army through. That option, however, was off the table, for it meant making an unauthorized entry into the demon lord Milim’s territory. If these were fertile lands, their army could proceed much faster than if they had to navigate a forest, but the advantage wasn’t worth riling Milim over. Along similar lines, a path through the Forest of Jura would put them within shooting distance of the West—but Veldora the Storm Dragon was back, and right next to him was the demon lord Rimuru.
As Gadora saw it, there was no need to deliberately create more enemies. Several of the Council’s civil officials agreed with this—but Caligulio just snorted at it.
“In that case, Sir Gadora, are you asking the Empire to give up on its dearest of wishes?”
If they can’t traverse the forest, it’d be difficult to deploy a substantial force in the West. Caligulio’s question thus had the full support of the military behind it.
“Sir Caligulio is right, my lord. Before the mighty Empire, a demon lord is no threat at all!”
“How can you be so disrespectful in front of His Majesty?! Dare you defy the will of the emperor, Sir Gadora?!”
“No! Think about it! Instead of taking on a demon lord, it is far wiser to win the cooperation of the dwarven king. We’d suffer no casualties, and it would make seizing the West that much easier!”
Gadora tried to rebuke these opposing viewpoints. But one onlooker laughed at him.
“You are the one being absurd, Sir Gadora. The dwarven king is renowned as the Master of the Sword. His predecessor was a mighty champion, and he is just as powerful. He is surrounded by a legion of other notorious heroes, all capable of putting up more resistance than any demon lord. I would relish the chance of waging battle against them, but that is not our main objective. Instead of fighting a group of champions, we would receive far more public support for slaying a demon lord!”
This shouting came from Gradim, the Beast King and commander of the Magical Beast Division. All he had to do was stand up, and the intimidation he exuded was overwhelming. He had the air of a ruler and the power to tame any magical creature. He was also one of the foremost fighters in the Empire, leader of a proud band of warriors. In terms of strength, the commander was said to be the second best in the Empire—he wasn’t in the Single Digits rankwise, but his powers had quickly earned him a post leading a division. Being in a position untouchable by any ranking duel made him believe he was the strongest, and thus Gradim resented the Empire’s Marshal, the one person higher than him in the military hierarchy.
Some rumors said he had lycanthrope blood in him, but none of these had been confirmed. Whether that was true or not, Gradim was definitely the type to act on gut instincts instead of reason, and Gadora therefore had trouble dealing with him.
“Sir Gradim, I fear you are making an incorrect comparison. I am saying that we should make King Gazel our ally!”
“Fool! If we were going to annex the Dwarven Kingdom as well, your point would make sense. If anyone gets in the way of the Empire’s ambitions, all we have to do is pound them into submission. But what kind of scheme is this? We have all the war power we need, and we still can’t take action because of this tepid nonsense you’re spouting at us!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! The Dwarven Kingdom is a natural fortress. The idea of taking it down by force is simply—”
“Silence!! Why must you continue your pathetic mewling in front of the emperor? This is exactly why you were dismissed from your role as division leader!” Gradim the Beast King shouted at the top of his lungs. He was telling the truth. Until about thirty years ago, the Gadora-led Magic Division was one of the three major ones the Empire boasted. Now, though, all its best talents were reassigned to technical departments, and the others shuffled into other posts.
This was because magic, at the heart of it, depended on the talents of individual casters. First, you needed magic force to cast anything, and that wasn’t something you could acquire in a class—that limited the numbers right there. Second, while magic was an effective tool in battle, the Empire had developed a weapon that all but supplanted it—a portable magical weapon, commonly called a spellgun. These were powered by magistones that activated a magic circle carved inside the gun barrel, allowing anyone control over magic. A single spellgun could generate only one type of magic, which was a disadvantage, but their usefulness still couldn’t be overstated.
Meanwhile, for close-range combat, the Empire had developed magic sabers. These handheld weapons operated on the same principle as spellguns—they were small arms preinstalled with magic. The example they set was part of why imperial military technicians could pinpoint what the Dungeon-made slotted weapons were for.
It was clear now that both sides of this conflict were thinking in similar ways. And now that even those without natural talent could cast magic, the role of the Magic Division was over. It was the end of an era, a melancholy moment for Gadora.
But the scorn for Gadora wasn’t over yet.
“Ha-ha-ha! You are well advanced in years, my lord. Your magic knowledge is the treasure of the Empire. You have given untold assistance to the Armored Division’s development of new magical weapons…but as Sir Gradim stated, you’re speaking out of line. Have you completely lost your nerve?”
Caligulio gave him a mocking laugh. Snickering bubbled up from the seats of the military and the House of Lords.
“Don’t any of you understand? That evil dragon holds control over natural disasters. He is one of the most powerful presences in the entire world.”
“You are the one who fails to understand, my lord. The imperial military is not what it used to be. We have studied the knowledge of many from other worlds; the ‘science’ they have brought with them. We have obtained an entirely new and different technology from what this world knew before, and with this new technology, our army has grown dozens of times more powerful than the last generation. Sorcerers like you are anachronisms, failing to keep up with the march of time. It is time for you to accept His Majesty’s good graces and humbly announce your retirement.”
“Wh-what?!”
Gadora fumed at this…but it was just an act. He had, after all, already capitulated to the demon lord Rimuru. He was trying to guide the Council away from war, but beyond that, he didn’t care much what came next.
I pity every one of these buffoons. Science is a wondrous thing, but the Sorcerous Dynasty of Thalion has its own secret knowledge—sorcerous science, they call it. Sir Rimuru himself is an otherworlder. And the Empire may be kept secure by its military might, but for how long…?
Now that he knew the truth about Tempest—and about Rimuru—victory for the Empire seemed very uncertain to Gadora. He didn’t wish misfortune upon his former colleagues, and he felt a debt of obligation to the emperor. That’s why he made an honest effort to steer the Empire off its course…but if it failed, he wouldn’t dwell on it.
Yuuki had a coup simmering anyway, and once it broke out, Gadora intended to keep the emperor secure. He was sure Yuuki wanted the emperor assassinated—if he planned to conquer the world, then all its leading figures were nothing but obstacles. Before now, he let him do what he wanted—but now that he had no reason at all to wage war, Gadora could no longer allow Yuuki’s schemes to plunge the world into chaos.
I can’t say what’ll happen in the future, but I doubt what I say here will change anything. Now, I suppose, I’ll fulfill Sir Rimuru’s request and build up more excitement for the Dungeon.
With that tacit decision, Gadora turned his eyes toward Yuuki—who, up to now, hadn’t said a word.
Seeing Gadora fall silent, Caligulio assumed victory was his.
Gadora’s Magic Division was dismantled in the military’s last major reshuffling. Since then, Gadora had been treated as a technical adviser for the Armored Division, an honorary post and nothing else. But he was widely known for his champion-level powers, and he may still have had more influence around the Empire than Caligulio himself.
And it was Gadora, and Gadora alone, who recommended Yuuki as a division leader. Simply infuriating.
Caligulio didn’t like it one bit. The great Gadora, lauded as a master sorcerer, was an old man—but his career was filled with meritorious deeds. He knew he couldn’t afford to shed his politeness when dealing with him. But:
Heh… He’s a relic of the past. Now he’s nothing but a crotchety old man, a drain on all of us.
Over time, the Empire had grown into a superpower in war. And as sad as it was, poor old Gadora simply couldn’t keep up with that.
The Empire was in a new era, and its three new military divisions were incomparably stronger than before.
………
……
…
The Armored Division Caligulio led was the largest military division in the Empire, driven by a combination of otherworld science and magical technology. Its force consisted of over two million deployable soldiers, but this included troops garrisoned across imperial territory. Only about a million could engage in maneuvers on a moment’s notice—but this was still an army on a stupefying scale, one unthinkable a hundred years ago.
The Magical Beast Division Gradim led was using DNA analysis technology brought by otherworlders to capture and raise magical beasts. The tamed, powered-up creatures this program produced now formed the core of this division. Nothing like this had ever been attempted before with such beasts, but this division made it happen—and thanks to their effort, the Empire could even train magical beasts as battle mounts.
These were used by the Empire’s greatest champions—those who analyzed the blood of ancient heroes and made it their own. These champions were innately powerful, and awakening the forces within their blood allowed the Magical Beast Division to recruit nothing but these champions. It was a comparatively small division, only around thirty thousand—just one in one hundred thousand had this kind of talent. But their mounts were magical beasts, at least A-minus in quality, and when matched with the right champion, their power was incalculable. It was truly an elite force, worthy of being a full division despite its smaller size.
Finally, the Composite Division Yuuki led was a group of talented individuals with extremely powerful latent abilities. The general public considered this division a hodgepodge of scrappy odds and ends lacking any real cooperative spirit, but that wasn’t the right way to describe them. They didn’t work well with others because they were already pretty omnipotent by themselves. As a band of exceptional, tough-to-control individuals, they had many talented otherworlders, their latent potential anybody’s guess.
It was populated by those with irregular traits, things that couldn’t be reproduced after extensive experimentation—difficult to handle, but packing more of a punch than an A-rank magical beast. They may not have known what their abilities were, exactly, but as weapons, they were too good to dispose of—and this force was where such accomplished people were inserted.
They had barely been supervised up to this point, but with Yuuki as the division’s new leader, it was reborn as a treasured force, one whose powers couldn’t be defined by pure numbers. They totaled some two hundred thousand people, about half of whom were deployable—the rest were commissioned intelligence officers, office staff, and so forth. That, and within the Composite Division was also a specially selected elite force—the foundation of the entire division, one absolutely faithful to Yuuki.
………
……
…
This was the composition of the Empire’s three new military divisions. It was a formidable power, and the moment the emperor gave the edict, 1,130,000 soldiers could likely begin operations at once. According to the Imperial Information Bureau’s latest intelligence, the Western Nations’ total fighting power was under a million troops; in terms of what was deployable right then, they’d likely be happy to gather four hundred thousand. Even more encouraging, the IIB expressed doubts that this could act as a coherent force, due to expected logistical difficulties.
It was thus an unruly mob of four hundred thousand against over a million imperial-trained elites. The numbers were simply overwhelming. And right at the core of this overwhelming imperial force was Caligulio’s Armored Division.
Caligulio intended to bring his own handpicked forces out on the field to handle this war. He planned to deploy a million soldiers, as follows:
• The Restructured Armor Corps, the division’s main force
These soldiers boasted the latest in otherworld technology and magical modifications. As individuals, each one ranked at least a C-plus, and some had even reached A rank.
• The Magitank Force, their most decisive weapons
This was a squadron of three thousand magitanks, the latest new imperial weapon brought into practical use. Each one had a crew of five, and they offered firepower that broke all previous rules. Their main armament, known as a magicannon, could fire bolts that shot out at two thousand yards per second. A magitank could hold fifty of these bolts, firing them up to five times a minute, and they packed a punch—the equivalent of a tactical-level high-speed flame spell.
Although these bolts were launched with magic, fundamentally, the shots themselves were simple metal balls. They could still smash through things like anti-magic barriers and anti-archery defenses, making them a fearsome mass-based offense. Thanks to that, the kind of force you once needed a wizard to unleash (assuming you could find one) was now at the beck and call of a common soldier. These magitanks resulted in a major breakthrough for the army, due to the difficulty of defending against them.
Two hundred thousand soldiers were assigned to this force, including mechanics and other personnel, and the more tanks you added, the more powerful it’d become.
• The Flying Combat Corps, responsible for a set of highly classified weapons
This consisted of four hundred flying airships—the treasure of the Empire and a testament to the grand new knowledge the otherworlders brought with them. Each airship could house up to four hundred people, a staff of fifty piloting them while the rest handled defensive magic or operated the cannons. They were fitted with many magically amplified guns, making them warships bristling with offense and defense, and they were also useful as transportation craft. In this world, the concept of air superiority didn’t really exist; no army paid any attention to antiair defense, so the Empire could transport large forces while the enemy’s guard was down. Airships could also assist in surrounding an enemy on the front and rear, making pincer attacks child’s play—another invention that turned conventional tactics on their head.
A hundred thousand people were assigned to this corps, mostly members taken from the old Magic Division.
With this many soldiers at his beck and call, Caligulio was basking in a feeling of omnipotence.
For example, the average strength of a knight in this world would be around C rank at best, although it varied depending on the size of a nation. Pad that strength with weapons or armor and put them through grueling training, and you might see that brought up to a B. Meanwhile, the Armored Division put its members through assorted magical modifications—after a health evaluation, anyone deemed fit enough for it was half forced into the operation. This successfully lifted the baseline for the entire division, and that was true for the forces stationed elsewhere across the Empire. They were like an insurmountable rock—Caligulio was sure of it.
For this grand campaign, he planned to deploy all the magitanks and airships at his disposal. He had enough soldiers to overwhelm any foreign alliance—in quality and quantity—and he had so many new weapons to unveil. As he saw it, the Armored Division was the best way of showing the full might of the Empire to the world.
Why worry about Veldora? Why worry about a demon lord? My division alone could conquer the whole world!!
It was with that confidence that Caligulio observed Gadora. That was why he noticed the sorcerer’s eyes shifting over to Yuuki—and the next moment, Yuuki spoke up for the first time in this Imperial Council, as if he’d been waiting for the opportunity.
“I agree that old man Gadora’s overly careful. I think he’s just being too wary—and I’m counting the Storm Dragon when I say that, too. Like Commander Caligulio said, the Empire as it stands now wouldn’t have a problem against him, don’t you think?”
The fact that Yuuki seemed to agree with Caligulio put him on alert. That bastard… He’s gonna nominate himself to capture the labyrinth, isn’t he? You may think I’m not on to you, but you’re wrong! You can’t hold a post as lofty as division commander without keeping yourself well-informed!
As Caligulio thought this, he flashed Yuuki a friendly smile. Gradim was an exception to that rule, but really, it was only his scale-breaking strength that put him at the top of his division. Yuuki, meanwhile, was Caligulio’s enemy from the start—the post was far too lofty for him still, he believed.
“Well put, Sir Yuuki,” he said, biting his tongue. “A young, energetic leader knows how to build momentum for himself, I see.”
“Ah, I’m no one that special. But the way I see it, we still have some scout work to do before we can run a war, right? If we want to make it through the Forest of Jura, we’re gonna need to proceed through the demon lord Rimuru’s domain. And along those lines, actually, I have some interesting news—apparently the demon lord’s city can be transported completely inside the labyrinth.”
“The labyrinth?” Caligulio asked, feigning ignorance.
“Yeah,” replied Yuuki, as if expecting this. “The Dungeon, to be precise. I don’t know how it works, but it allows them to make the entire city disappear from the surface, leaving nothing but a large gate.”
Hmph. How absurd. Now I’m sure he’s going to volunteer to go explore the Dungeon himself and steal away all my interests…but it’s so terribly shallow of him!
“Oh?” Caligulio gave Yuuki a gloating smile. “Are you sure about that intelligence?”
“If it’s true,” said another Council member, “we cannot ignore this Dungeon. They may emerge from it to attack us once we march past.”
“Indeed. Assuming the Empire’s no fool, I’m sure they’re shoring up their defense lines as we speak. If the demon lord’s forces cut off our supply lines, we’ll be in trouble.”
“That could make the Forest of Jura route dangerous…”
Everyone who heard Yuuki began giving out a smorgasbord of feedback. Yuuki grinned as if this was exactly what he’d been seeking all along.
“There’s no doubting the credibility of this intelligence, no. Old man Gadora went over there himself and examined it for us!”
He had waited for just the right moment to say that, but he wasn’t done yet.
“Now, the things old man Gadora saw have convinced him that the demon lord Rimuru is a threat. And he also brought back another rumor. It said that the labyrinth goes down a hundred floors, and that the guardian on the deepest floor is none other than Veldora, the Storm Dragon. Now, there’s no evidence backing this rumor at all. Gadora’s investigations ended on the sixtieth floor after his team sadly took some losses. It’s said not even Masayuki the Hero has made it past that floor. In terms of difficulty, we believe it would rank an A-plus equivalent…and no matter what route we take to invade the West, I think this requires further investigation.”
Now Yuuki was sounding serious, doing away with his carefree attitude.
“Losses…?”
“Quite a pity. I can understand Sir Yuuki’s feelings.”
“An investigation certainly wouldn’t be uncalled for. Perhaps we could leave that to the Composite Division?”
The nobles excitedly talked among themselves. It rankled Caligulio. Tchh! You fools were all bought off by him! How dare you try to talk your way into this, Yuuki! You should’ve become a politician, not an army commander!
But the sincerity of Yuuki’s attitude was even starting to turn the minds of the nobles he didn’t bribe. It only further provoked Caligulio.
“One moment, please!” he shouted as he stood up and bowed to the emperor behind the blind. “Your Highness! Lord Gadora and Sir Yuuki seem absolutely petrified of Veldora, but not I—and that goes without saying for the Western Nations as well! It is my fervent hope that I may soothe your mind, Your Majesty, so please—give me, Caligulio, the order to begin our conquest! I promise to you I will stake my body and soul in the ensuing battle!!”
The statement sent a shiver through the chamber. Addressing the emperor directly was far beyond the realms of convention.
“Wha—?! Of all the outrageous things to do…!”
“This will not stand, Sir Caligulio!”
“Trying to get a leg up on the competition, Caligulio? Your Majesty, our Magical Beast Division is ready to deploy on a moment’s notice. Please, grant us your order as well!”
Even Gradim was entering the fray.
“In that case,” a frazzled-looking Yuuki added, “allow the Composite Division to investigate this!”
With him standing up as well, all three commanders were bowing their heads at once. At this point, only the emperor could put an end to this commotion…
…Him—or one other.
This figure stood up behind the blind and smiled sweetly. She was the Imperial Marshal, the supreme commander of the Empire’s forces.
“All right, you idiots, quiet down. You are in the presence of Emperor Ludora.”
Calling the emperor by his given name was an affront no common citizen could dream of. Only someone granted the rank of Marshal could do so without fear of consequences.
In the Empire, being Marshal meant being the strongest.
Only a very few close associates knew who she was. Not even the rank holder’s name was revealed to the public; it was said she was always attending to the emperor, protecting him. A few words from her were all it took to silence the meeting hall.
Now, as everyone in attendance fell to the ground to pay their respects, the Marshal’s voice boomed from high above.
“So what of this Veldora? He may have interfered with our previous campaign, but did that shake the Empire?”
“““No!!”””
“Of course not. And that is because our great emperor has afforded us his divine protection.”
“““Yes, ma’am!!”””
It was beyond overpowering. An air of dominance filled the room, leaving everyone powerless to resist it. And in the midst of it, the Marshal asked:
“Yuuki, was it? You have been in the Empire for not even a year, and I must praise your achievements. However, you are soft—too soft. From the moment Veldora resurrected himself until now, the Empire has not taken any action. Do you know why?”
“Because we were not fully prepared—”
This was already well-trodden territory, but Yuuki gave the answer anyway. But the Marshal answered him with a scornful smile. “No. It’s because the idiots among us were so stricken by fear of the past, they made up this or that excuse to run away. Isn’t that right, Gadora?”
“I-indeed it is!!”
Everyone, deep down, knew that to be true…and not even Gadora had the willpower to say no. It was true—he had argued for avoiding battle instead of debating whether they could beat the Storm Dragon. He had no leg to stand on.
…But what is this? Why is she, of all people, in such a panic?
Gadora was one of the few people who had seen the Marshal’s face. That’s why he could tell, despite her detached air, that she was growing impatient. But he couldn’t bring it up here. Instead, Gadora felt a vague anxiety, one whose reason he couldn’t put into words, as the Marshal continued.
“There’s no way negotiations with King Gazel of Dwargon would go well, is there? I’m sure you understand that, so why be so stubborn about it? Or are all of you more idiotic than I thought? You’re not trying to interfere with the Empire’s dominance, are you?”
The cold voice made Gadora’s spine freeze.
Has she spotted me out…?
He couldn’t believe it. He was a senior member of the Empire, one who served as counsel for the emperor—but even he found himself cringing in the presence of the Marshal.
And come to think of it…I still don’t even know her name…
Gadora was trusted. He was treasured—there was no doubt about that. But maybe that was all just Gadora kidding himself. The thought felt like a shock wave—and then, for the first time, he began to wonder what the Empire—or really, the emperor—actually was.
Turning away from him, the Marshal set his sights on Caligulio.
“So, Caligulio. You like your chances of victory?”
“Y-yes, Marshal!! I absolutely do!!”
“Ah. Then tell us about your strategy.”
“W-well…”
He was in high spirits earlier—but the full brunt of the Marshal’s dominant presence bowled Caligulio over. His plan to bulldoze the enemy with sheer quantity, it made him realize, seemed so childish now.
Caligulio did have his own plan for the fight against the Storm Dragon, an intricate plan he had carefully worked out over the course of many years. He wasn’t afraid of Veldora—he’s just a dragon, he thought. And yes, the dragons of the Canaat Mountains were tough monsters to face—the Lesser Dragons at the foot of the peaks were one thing, but once they had grown into full-fledged adult specimens, they ranked at least an A in strength. Once you got to an element-infused Arch Dragon, that was dangerous enough to upend a small kingdom.
Not so with the Empire. All they’d have to do is deploy a force of five hundred from the Restructured Armor Corps, and they could subdue him. They had undergone repeated military training for just this mission, and as long as they didn’t make any mistakes, they wouldn’t lose too many men.
That, if anything, proved the Empire’s power. It had the strength to raise tens of thousands of these fighters. They could beat a whole flock of dragons—and as far as Caligulio was concerned, Veldora was just another dragon. Why, he concluded, are we so afraid of a single dragon?A monster’s strength was defined by the size of its magicule store. That remained true no matter how powerful one was. Dragons were so strong because their magical energy was as enormous as their physical mass. They had high defense and breath attacks that pummeled a wide range, both requiring a massive amount of magicules. So why fight them from the front in the first place?
No, Caligulio and his force had a secret plan—a new technology, a magicule-disturbing beam known as a magic canceler that had been developed under strict confidentiality.
Magic-based weakening attacks occasionally didn’t work on dragons. Some of them could annul any such attempt with Magic Interference. With this new tech, that didn’t matter. A magic canceler beam interfered with the magicules themselves—not controlling them but scattering them in wild, unpredictable patterns, making them essentially go haywire. Applied to a sorcerer, it’d jam his spell and keep him from invoking the magic. Against a monster, it’d scramble its magicule-based body and impede their movements. It’d not only weaken them, but maybe even neutralize them entirely.
This would be particularly effective against someone like Veldora, essentially a huge blob of magicule energy. It was the source of Caligulio’s unflappable confidence.
What’s more, they had a second card to play—their magitanks. The magicannons attached to them were intensely powerful, capable of dispatching even a large magical beast in one hit. After some experiments conducted with a captured live dragon, they found that a magicannon blast could even kill a full-grown, A-rank specimen instantly.
Finally, there was the wild card—the airships, their secret weapon and the crown jewel of their magical technology. They could travel at will beyond the speed of sound; no living creature could hope to outrun them.
Caligulio’s strategy for Veldora was as follows: First, his quickest forces would lure Veldora within range of a magic canceler set up in the forest. This would bind him in place, and to add to the barrage, they’d irradiate him with another magic canceler installed on an airship put on standby above. Once Veldora was weakened to a state of helplessness, a battalion of two thousand magitanks would launch a simultaneous magicannon volley—and any dragon, no matter how ancient, would surely be vaporized by that.
And should he somehow survive… Well, even a True Dragon wouldn’t emerge unscathed.
In war, a force calculated their chances of victory based on the intelligence they had accumulated. They had killed a large number of dragons by this point, using the data they gathered to fully prepare themselves. It made Caligulio absolutely sure of victory…and yet, as he addressed the Marshal, his tongue suddenly felt heavy in his mouth.
“S-so… We would deploy a tank battalion, and then we’d lure the evil dragon into position, you see…”
Sheer numbers, he thought, would win the day for him, so he planned to work out the more tactical details once they arrived on-site. The tanks could navigate even the worst of roads, and he had word of a highway built between there and the Dwarven Kingdom, one large enough to make tank transportation a breeze. He therefore concluded that tank deployment wouldn’t be an issue, but facing the Marshal, he couldn’t just make up his facts.
I was so focused on building up our war power that I neglected our on-site investigations. This was my failure…
At least he still had enough of his senses left to work that out.
“How worthless. Besides, your entire concept is wrong on its head. Once you destroy Veldora, what next?”
“…What?” Caligulio replied, unable to grasp her meaning.
The Marshal looked down on him coldly. “Why do you think the Empire never made a move while Veldora was sealed away?”
“B-because we were unprepared—”
“Wrong answer, you fool. We were waiting for his revival so we could settle matters with him in his complete state. Now we can expose him to the full glory of His Majesty. So what will we do if we destroy him? Only through defeating and ruling over him will the Empire secure its victory!”
Her words overwhelmed the entire meeting hall. Everyone was dominated by a sense of terror, or doom, as if someone had grabbed their hearts and wouldn’t let go.
Gadora was just as shaken by it. No… Is she serious? After all the time I spent explaining that mentally dominating him was impossible? But…
Somehow, the Marshal’s words were convincing. Something about them made you feel that maybe, just maybe, it was possible. The feeling gave Gadora the taste of an inscrutable sort of horror.
Yes… Looking back, it’s so strange. Who is the Marshal anyway? I’ve met her in real life, but I never even questioned why I don’t know her name. Could…? Could this be…?
A certain truth was beginning to dawn on Gadora, no matter how much he wanted to will it away. Now he wondered if the Marshal was capable of dominating someone’s mind better than anyone else—even he, the greatest sorcerer the Empire ever knew. In fact, he no longer wondered it. He was sure.
Gadora opened his eyes, turning them toward the other side of the blind. She was a graceful silhouette, as seen through the expensive silk-woven curtain, but to Gadora it looked like a monster beyond imagination. In a way, it was like a True Dragon had taken human form—a delusion that Gadora hurriedly wiped from his mind.