The Girl Who Ate The Death God - Upper Bound Volume, Episode 06

Sorcery existed in this world. Those who possessed the ability to use them were aptly called sorcerers, and were considered priceless treasures among the people.

Their applications were varied, from healing wounds to sweeping the earth clear of enemies.

Each of the nations had raced against each other in gathering such individuals, so as to monopolise their abilities. As a result, few could benefit from them, and in turn, they became far-off existences from the general public. To be healed by sorcery, for example, one would most likely have to pay several years' worth of the average wages.

Combat sorcerers, on the other hand, had been liberally thrown into battlefields of the past, but now, not many of them were around to be seen.

One might ask why such sorcerers, bearers of great destructive powers, were no longer put into combat.

That was because it was now impossible to gather enough to even form a single squad, and even then, training them would incur great time and resource expenses.

No matter how much those without talent were nurtured, they would never come to use sorcery. Talent, otherwise called magical capacity, was decided upon one's birth -- they either do or do not have it. Acquisition via any other method was impossible.

Additionally, in order to use sorcery, one was required to chant, a process that demanded a significant length of time. Chant times were proportional to power. One also ran the risk of exhausting their magic power, and the inability to be used in rapid succession was a fatal flaw. The general effective range was not so different from bows and arrows, either.

In short, using squads of archers were far more efficient in large-scaled combat situations.

In the time it took sorcerers to unleash one spell of their prided sorcery, proficient archers could let loose a hundred arrows.

And since it had been common practice in battlefields to target and kill sorcerers first, their numbers had decreased even further. Inevitably, they had ceased to appear on battlefields, instead serving personal escorts, and for the select few, royal guards.

However inefficient they may be on a technical level, it was undeniable that sorcery boasted impressive power.

This had led to the competing nations' research for their practical application, and as a result, the Imperial Army's magical engineers had succeeded in developing a new weapon.

Namely, the Magic Landmine.

They were made through the long process of pumping magical energy into specialised iron tubes, then carefully stabilised with a chant-activated charm. The creation of such impressive articles was a near-impossible task in itself, and unskilled handling would result in a lethal explosion.

Despite great sacrifices of resources, the Imperial Army had commenced the manufacturing of Magic Landmines. Their completed prototype had been delivered to the front lines.

Instructions of usage were as follows: 

Should a sorcerer chant the activation spell, or the iron tube be provoked with enough external force, the landmine will explode.

Simply put, they can also be detonated by simply being stepped on. Since they had been manufactured to be used primarily as buried traps, they had been named Magic Landmines. Throwing is not prohibited, but with how much it weighed, it would be impossible with the average human strength.

P.S. The sorcerer who had invented this weapon had been caught in a production accident and had already departed from this world. This occurrence was the first case of a person falling victim to the weapon's tremendous power.

[Campground, Royal Capital Liberation Force Supply Storehouse]

The Liberation Force had allocated a thousand of their regular soldiers to the defence of this strategic location.

Furthermore, they had spent a fair sum of gold to employ three-thousand mercenaries. The mercenaries' equipments were not uniform, and their unit had been formed in a hurry, however. Each of them preferred to fight as they pleased, and could not be expected to act without command -- Such was the nature of the disposable chess pieces, the mercenaries.

Liberation Force Tactician Diener had forecast a repeated attempt to attack the location. He could not afford to allocate war potential away from the main battlefield, however, and could only deploy just enough soldiers for an unlikely attempt at defence. The Liberation Force was suffering financially as well.

"...Boss, you think the Royal Army will come? The Tactician did say it's a half-half chance, but..."

A man, boorish enough to be mistaken for a bandit, sparked a conversation.

The addressed large man, the acting commander of the mercenaries, sighed in annoyance as he fiddled around with his great sword.

"Hell if I know. Well, we'll just be doing our jobs either way. If they come, we kill them all. Should be simple enough."

"They might make us knights if we do good here, yeah? You'll get to be buddies with the nobles, boss!"

"I'll be fine with being paid my gold. Not interested in the nobles. Not gettin' what's there to be jealous about..."

The Mercenary Commander remarked on the foolishness of the thought, and the boorish mercenary sighed in disappointment. He had ideas for his own career in the case that his boss ascended to nobility.

"Ain't it a waste though? You're good enough to be commander, so I think you'll do fine up there."

"Now, being too greedy will be the end of you. Different places for different people. It's fine to just try hard enough to keep yourself alive."

"Aye-yup. Got it, sir!"

To the mercenary's cheerful answer, the commander knit his brows and glared back.

"Did you really, though? Well, not that I care. It's your life."

The Mercenary Commander, having finished the maintenance of his great sword, heaved a sigh.

He felt uneasy, but not to the point of significant worry, about the fact that the troops were too little for the Supply Storehouse's defence. Noise alarms had been laid about the vicinity, and they had set up some of their trump cards, the Magic Landmines.

This impressive new weapon was likely being used in the engagement on Althia Plain as well. On the outside, it was simply a child-sized iron tube. At a glance, one would call it mediocre at best, garbage scrap at worst.

But the magical energy charged up inside was beyond absurd, and its explosion would cause great damage to the surrounding area. Those involved with its experimentation process had been at a loss of words upon witnessing its power.

"Some scary weapon they came out with, eh. I swear, one day we won't be able to even walk freely..."

"We'll have to be careful, too. Wouldn't wanna be near when it's set off."

"That's annoying, for sure. And I bet we'll have to clean the mess up, too," the Mercenary Commander shook his head.

"Yup, definitely."

"I know, right -- Wha-what was that!?"

The loose-lipped mercenaries' ears were visited by the uninvited sound of a terrific explosion.

"W-what the-- what's happening!?"

"A landmine in the forest exploded!"

"Hey! Who the hell set it off!? Enemy, ally, or animal!?"

Someone, or something, had stepped on a Magic Landmine. The mercenaries hurried to confirm what it was, praying for it not to be an unfortunate ally.

"Royal Army, Third Army Banner! Enemy attack--! Cavalry unit!"

"So they're here!"

The Mercenary Commander stood himself up vehemently.

"The enemy was caught in a landmine, and their men and horses are in disarray! We should strike now!"

The scouts delivered their first report. This was, indeed, a great opportunity.

"This is our chance, boss! Everyone is already done preparing!"

"Let's go, boss!"

"It's time to rake in the dough!"

The mercenaries cheered on without pause. They were not fighting for their client's just cause, but to earn gold by killing enemy soldiers. If they did not do their job, they would not make any gold.

"Alright, tell the regulars to fortify their defence! Mercenary unit, follow me! We'll clear the disordered enemy in one fell swoop!"

The Mercenary Commander hopped on his horse, unsheathed his great sword, and raised a battle cry to announce their interception.

The Royal Army Cavalry Unit had fallen into turmoil.

They had exited the woods and were about to carry out their offence on the Storehouse, but they had been attacked by someone, or something, before they could.

The ground had blown up, the horses had lost their footing, and a large portion of the unit had already been claimed. The attack was undoubtedly a magic spell.

However, sorcerers were nowhere to be seen. Nor were there any enemy soldiers within the magic activation range.

The Cavalry Captain, colour drained from his face, frantically exclaimed. The cavalry must not stop moving. Such was the ironclad rule that had been driven into the heads of all recruits.

"Curses -- we've come this far, and we won't pull back! Get your act together and charge! Attack!"

"B-but Captain, the horses are all riled up! They're not listening!"

"You can't even manage a horse properly!? What did you even do for your daily training!?"

"E-even if you say that -- Dammit-- Listen to me, dammit!"

"Bloody hell--! Gah, arrows incoming--"

"Captain, enemy troops! Aiming bows! We've been spotted!"

The cavalrymen, struggling with their reins and calming down their horses, were buffeted by a piercing hail of arrows.

They had been spotted by the Liberation Force Garrison. Now, mounted soldiers were rushing in high morale toward them from the Storehouse's vicinity.

But their enemy was not of significant numbers. They should pull through, the Cavalry Captain deducted.

"We'll all be shot down at this rate! Those who can move, follow me! Just go forward--!"

He hoisted his spear, kicked his horse's abdomen, and rushed onward. One again, an explosion resounded behind him, but now he did not have the leeway to turn around. Since the other horses' hooves were still audible, the unit was likely not yet annihilated. All that mattered was they destroyed the Liberation Force Storehouse, no matter the damage they incurred.

Hit and Run was a cavalry's specialised role. They had to succeed, lest the name of the glorious Third Army be further sullied.

With fierce momentum, the opposing cavalries clashed head-on, and so did their commanders.

"So you're the leader! I'll have your head!"

"Silence, Rebel scum! You will fall by my spear!"

"Try me, Kingdom dog!"

"HAAAHHH--!"

"YAAAAHHHH--!!"

The Cavalry Captain and the Mercenary Commander brandished their weapons and clashed. Then, when their mighty silhouettes overlapped, stopped.

The one who lost the exchange was...

--The Kingdom Cavalry Captain.

Robbed of strength, his body tumbled down, and the mercenaries trampled him over. Gold reward was offered to the one who took the head, so the men were desperate. Like wild beasts, they tore the body apart and took away the head.

"I've slain the enemy leader! Go! Massacre the Royal Army! Don't leave any alive!"

The Mercenary Commander announced at the top of his lungs. A simple act of raising allied morale and dampening enemy momentum. He shook blood off his great sword and brandished it, as if in a proclamation of victory.

"The Royal Army is good as dead!"

"We'll get all the rewards we want if we win!"

"Kill them all!"

With their captain struck down, the Royal Army Cavalry was now completely demoralised.

Each and every one of them was surrounded by the mercenaries, many were injured, and their numbers diminished as one after another were dragged off their horses.

"C-curses! Get away, damn it!"

"Whoops. Heh heh, think you can hit me!?"

"--Hey, you're wide open! Drop dead!"

A mercenary, exploiting gaps between spear thrusts, drew his sword and aimed for the Royal Army soldier's blind spot, however...

"--Huh?"

That instant, the Royal Army soldier's face was dyed in deep red.

He looked below him, overcome by surprise, and down there he saw the ugly, gouged-out face of his adversary. It was the mercenary's spurting blood that had rained down on him.

"If your horse isn't helping, dismount and fight. C'mon, if you don't wanna die, then get off your arse already!"

The girl mowed down her enemies and dashed through fountains of blood, her silhouette dyed in red.

She glared at the flustered cavalryman while swiping blood off her blade.

"Y-yes! So sorry, ma'am!"

Shera, having dealt with the mercenaries in her immediate surrounding, now assumed command in place of her late superior officer, and was attempting an imitation of his prideful tone of speech. She found it quite gratifying.

And since she was not doing so bad, she decided to roll with it. It was far easier than formal speech and honorifics, too.

"I'll be taking over command from now on! The enemies are just mercenaries without a real leader! Dampen their momentum and kill them all!"

"Y-yes, sir."

The cavalryman, not yet comprehending the full situation, wrung out a feeble response.

Seeing that, Shera shouted back in a fit of rage.

"Keep up that pathetic voice, and I'll kill you myself!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! Kill all enemies in sight! Everyone, follow me!"

Shera, with a shout unfit for her visage, rallied the cavalry on. While doing so, she had also reaped the lives of three mercenaries with a swing of her scythe.

Encouraged by the presence of another commander, the cavalrymen gradually regained their morale.

"Hmm, might that guy be the one commanding the mercenaries? His movements aren't the same as the others..."

One man among the enemies, face stubbled with beard, mowing down the Royal Army Cavalry with his great sword, caught Shera's attention. After getting a good look, she turned around and spurred her horse toward him.

A group of mercenaries valiantly stepped forward with their swords and spears, so as to obstruct Shera's charge.

But they were cannon fodder, and when faced with the giant scythe, spun wildly like a water wheel on turbulent water, they were effortlessly killed off. Helmets crushed, heads lopped off, limbs severed, blood spurted. In the twinkling of an eye, a path of pure red was left in Shera's wake.

The bearded mercenary poised for action, holding his great sword forward.

"Nod bad at all. But this is as far as you go!"

"So you're the mercenary boss. I'll be taking that sloppy head of yours!"

"Damn cocky brat--! Piss off and die!"

"HAAAHHH--!"

"ORAAAHHH--!"

The Mercenary Commander, upon the sight of Shera, scythe aloft, gloated over the scene. His great sword was obviously faster. Before the scythe was brought down, his sword would already cut the girl apart.

He visualised the arc of his blade and made the swing, in practised hands, under strengthened arms; a simple cut. A cut that had gotten him away from countless life threats. Simple yet effective, it was by this technique that he had survived thus far.

"You're through!"

"Too slow."

The great sword, swung for the girl's right shoulder, was flicked away by the handle of the scythe.

"Ngh--!?"

Now that the man was thrown off balance, Shera brought the scythe down on him.

The Mercenary Commander was cleaved vertically in two, helmet, armour, horse head and all.

The man died, gaping eyelids pronouncing disbelief, a feeble puff of air escaping from his distorted, bisected mouth.

"Now this is what I call a work of art. It's gonna be a pain in the arse to clean..."

Now done gazing at the body while its entrails were spilling out, Shera made a splendid spin with her scythe and thrust it high up in the sky.

"The enemy leader has been struck down! Now go! Crush the Rebel scum!"

Eliminate the skilled mercenary who served to keep them together, and the rest will soon break apart. They were an off-the-cuff mob of mercenaries, after all.

"B-boss got done in!"

"Run for it! No way in hell I'm dying here!"

"W-waahhh--! H-help!"

Whether or not they had already gotten their gold, mercenaries were the type to run at the first sight of danger. 'He who fights and runs away may live to fight another day,' so the saying went. All of them immediately broke into a stampede.

Shera turned back around and ordered her soldiers.

"Don't leave any of them alive! Send them all to hell where they belong!"

"OH--!"

"Everyone, after Vice-captain Shera!"

"Royal Army Cavalry, charge! Trample them down! Destroy them!"

Shera ordered, with her face painted with blood and a merry expression. The prideful tone and conduct of one in command totally suited her fancy.

The cavalrymen, morale forcibly shot up, swept right through the retreating mercenaries, crushing them underfoot.

The Liberation Force commander in charge of the Storehouse defence, seeing that the mercenaries were degenerating into a rout, made the decision to retreat after careful thought.

They took with them only as much armaments and supplies as they could hold, and safely escaped from the scene without conflict. The supplies may be crucial, but they could not afford to lose their valuable soldiers here. This was not the only Supply Storehouse, either way. It was just that this particular one had the most supplies stored in it.

Since their enemy was gaining momentum, they ought to avoid conflict, lest the lives of a thousand of their very own soldiers go to waste. With the Garrison Commander judging so, the unit had retreated without a single exchange of blows.

During the initial confusion, the Cavalry Unit had sustained no more than five-hundred casualties. From when Shera took up command onward, they barely had any losses. The Liberation Force's Mercenary Unit had been devastated, and the few left alive had already escaped for their stronghold, Salvador Fortress. At the cost of a captain and five-hundred horses and men, it was the Royal Army's victory.

And for Shera, this was her first victory.

--And so, one hour later...

The Cavalry Unit, having taken complete control of the Supply Storehouse, proceeded to inspect the supplies that remained in the facility. The important documents had already been taken away, but a large quantity of food, weapons, and war horses had been left behind. Among them was a single one of the Magic Landmines, the tool that had dealt a powerful blow to Shera's unit earlier.

Several prisoners, each in a miserable state with arms tied behind them, were brought before Shera. Each of their faces was sooted and stained, but none seemed to have incurred life-threatening injuries. Their expressions radiated with defiant spirit, suggesting that they would escape at the first opportunity they saw.

"There are some things we'd like to ask. Would you mind?"

"Heh, as if any of us will talk!"

'Piss off!' the prisoner spat, and Shera immediately, soundlessly lopped his head off.

Left untouched, the unfortunate mercenary's body tumbled forward. Not only the prisoners, but also those on the Kingdom's side, were rendered mute in astonishment. Being an instinctive reaction, they were not able to immediately derive any other responses.

It was strangely astonishing to them how one could die so easily, and how one could kill so effortlessly. It was as if the victim was not human, but rather a random plant being weeded out.

"Now that was a shame. On to the next one."

The blade dripped blood as it gleamed in the face of its next sacrifice. The prisoner struggled in an attempt to break free, but the soldiers held his shoulders down.

"E-eekkkk--!"

"Would you mind telling us what this is used for?"

Shera pointed at the iron tube, which had been moved over and placed behind her.

"Uh-- th-that's -- J-just a normal metal can! It's for storing food--"

That was the end of the man's drivel. Shera, with a smile, had already lopped his head off. It falling down and rolling around proved to be a hindrance, so she kicked it away, far and high.

It tumbled about, scattering red fluid around.

"Now, no lying, alright? It's just a waste of time. I actually am busy, I'll have you know."

Blood spurted from the decapitated body, showering down on the other prisoners.

As they shivered in fear, the next sacrifice was visited upon.

"What. Is. This?"

"W-wait! We're just some typical mercenaries -- Don't kill us! F-from now on we'll fight for the kingd--"

"--Next!"

The scythe swung down, cutting in between his words.

'There are plenty of prisoners remaining,' was what the next prisoner took from Shera when he ended up looking at her right in the eyes. The man, the next sacrifice in line, was overcome with fear and divulged all of the military secrets he knew.

"It-it's a -- a Magic Landmine! It's the Empire's new weapon that explodes when you step on it or a sorcerer activates the spell! I don't know any more than that, really! S-so don't kill me! I-I beg ya!"

"H-hey! What'd you tell all that for!? Have you no pride as a mer--"

"Thank you for telling us. We will spare you -- just you."

After the other prisoner who had protested was snuffed out, the man who had answered was freed of his bonds in good manners. The one who carried out both acts with a smile was the very definition of a normal girl, barring the fact that her body was dyed in dark red.

"I-I can go? F-for real?"

The freed man asked for confirmation again and again. He was still fearful of being struck dead from behind.

"Now, hurry on your way. You really are a fortunate fellow, you know that? Here, take some food and gold. We'll give you one of these leftover horses, too, and feel free to take any weapon you like. Take care of yourself."

The man, handed a small bag of food and gold coins, was urged on to leave.

Although still in disbelief, the man soon broke into tears, expressed his gratitude, hopped on a horse, and promptly took his leave.

This man would successfully evade being captured by the Liberation Force, safely escaping to the Neutral City. He was one of the lucky souls to be spared from the Death God's uneven temper.

"Vice-captain Shera. What should we do with the rest of them? We still have ten or so left to deal with."

"We can't take them with us, so... Kill them all. There's nothing we need to ask them now. Make sure none is left alive."

Shera ran her index finger across her own neck. And so the soldiers answered, terrified by her expression,

"Ah-affirmative."

"Swift and clean executions, folks. Better not make any sloppy cuts, understand? They might hurt real bad if you don't do it right. Cut deep to reach the vital spot."

"Yes, sir!"

So saluted the soldiers, now lined up behind the prisoners.

"N-no! Please spare me!"

"I'll-I'll tell you everything! So please wait--!"

"I don't wanna die! I beg you, have mercy!"

"Shut up! Behave yourselves!"

"Worrying about survival after resisting this long!? Know some shame!"

The soldiers poised their weapons while shouting back, then after kicking down the prisoners, proceeded with their execution. Anger, insult, agony, repeated voices of all emotions filled the Storehouse.

Shera derived enjoyment from listening to them in the background while she herself toured the Storehouse, snitching food to her heart's content.

Although the Royal Army would not bat any eyes when presented with such things, Shera's utmost interest was being attracted by the mountains of what she considered to be the finest confections.

First, a wooden crate packed with sweets. She proceeded to rummage through it with sparkly eyes. Melted chocolate, crumbled biscuits, sticky candies, some clumps of unknown translucent substance. The mystery clump shook with jelly-like bounciness upon touch. She tried it, and found its tenderness to her liking.

Immensely curious of them all, she picked out one thing after another. The next one was a tawny, round dough with a hole in the middle. Upon closer inspection, white powder could be seen sprinkled on top.

Biting it out of instinct, she found the crust to be firm and the inside to be soft. Though she was unsure of the contrast of hard and soft textures, it was delicious regardless.

Regrettably, she could not find any more of it.

Still, she moved on to another discovery. Found in a small wooden box, a most peculiar egg-shaped confection. She could tell it was not an actual egg just from touching it.

It was soft. Its surface dented just from applying a slight pressure. She plopped it in her mouth and was in for a surprise as she crushed it between her teeth. A bittersweet juice gushed from its inside. She found it so pleasant that she wanted to scream, but since her mouth was still stuffed, she managed to restrain herself.

Now she sat down, and looked on at all the foodstuffs scattered about with satisfaction. Being surrounded with so many sweets of so many kinds, she wondered if this was what heaven looked like.

As she drowned in supreme bliss, her time was interrupted by a soldier's call from outside.

"Vice-captain, pursuers will be onto us if we don't retreat soon. I suggest that we hurry."

"...I'm making preparations right now, so give me just a few seconds here."

After stuffing her face as much as time permitted, Shera then crammed all the food she could into her pouch and went outside.

She fastened the whole load of luggage onto her horse, then licked her fingers and dusted her hands.

The horse, tapped on its body by Shera, groaned out of its nose in slight agitation.

"Is everything in order, Vice-captain?"

"...Not at all, but let us withdraw regardless. It pains me to do this, but as planned, light the fire. There's not enough time to eat them all. It's sad to waste all these things, but it has to be done."

Shera looked on at the piles of food in the vicinity, expression sad as can be.

She had no time to eat it all. Even if everyone present joined in, it would likely still take days.

It was unfortunate that they had to be burned, not to mention a waste of resources. But she would not wish for the rebel scum to potentially eat them, either, and burning them was indeed an official order.

After much reluctance, Shera gave the final order to set the Storehouse on fire. The heartbreaking decision to burn food away.

"Er... Yes, sir!"

"By the way, have you folks all packed up your share? It'll go to waste otherwise, so take as much as you can. You won't be able to fight in full force with an empty stomach, yeah?"

Shera went around, checking all of her troops' horses. And as she had ordered, they had all been fully loaded.

"We've packed as much as we could, as you commanded!"

"Then we're all ready to go. Oh, just in case, let's take that Magic Landmine with us as well. The thing is heavy, but it might be important."

"Affirmative!"

The unit proceeded to slather oil and make preparations for a fire.

Shera took a long, deep breath, hopped on her horse, and took the reins.

Right then, a dust cloud rose in the distance, and before it, a single cavalryman came rushing, his face pale.

"...What is it?"

"Vice-captain Shera! Bad news--!"

It was the cavalryman who had left earlier to scout the vicinity. All colour had drained from his face, and he was drenched in greasy sweat.

"What's gotten you so flustered? Starving, perhaps? Here, have some bread, if you don't mind that it looks this... rock-solid. Still good though. It's got a nice feel to it, what with its lack of taste..."

Shera took out a piece of old, hard bread from her bag, but the cavalryman disputed that this was not what he meant.

"This isn't the time to be eating bread, ma'am! Like I said, bad news!"

"Bread is bad news? I got some jerkies too, if you don't mind them. I was planning to eat them later, but since you insisted, I'll share. Wouldn't be nice to keep them all to myself, yeah? Besides, I still have plenty of other foods left--"

"Th-that's not what I meant! The Royal Army has been defeated on Althia Plain! The Third Army has suffered significant casualties! General Yaldar is currently attempting a retreat!"

Upon hearing so, commotion instantly broke out among the cavalrymen. That was not the kind of information they would want to instantly believe.

"Ridiculous! This is the eight hundred-thousand strong Third Army we're talking about! There's no way they're losing to the Rebel Force!"

"I don't have the details! But it's true that the Third Army is being driven back!"

His breathing rough, the soldier reported the Royal Army's defeat. Just as he finished, he tumbled down from his horse, sprawling out to rest right then and there. The horse itself was also on the verge of exhaustion; it was apparent that they both had spent their all running back here.

As much as the soldiers wanted to not believe it, the news was not false. They may hate to accept it, but they had to.

"Vice-captain Shera, we'll have to hurry back to Antigua Castle. Pursuing enemy forces might come at any time now."

"It's likely that the enemy is already informed of us having captured the Storehouse. It's only a matter of time until they return here!"

"Calm down, folks. Panicking won't do us any good. In times like these, it's important to take our time and think things through."

From her food bag, Shera reached for a melting bar of chocolate and took a bite. Its enchanting sweetness was just what she needed to revitalise her parched heart and soul. And she did not forget to cleanly lick off what was stuck to her fingers.

On the other hand, the chocolate was not good for her horse, apparent as it snapped up in slight panic.

"B-but -- if we don't run now--!"

"W-wait! Th-there's someone else is coming our way. H-hey! You alright there!?"

Another cavalryman came rushing, bearing news more urgent than the last. Arrows were stuck on his back through his armour, and he was bleeding from the wounds on his face. This cavalryman was the one whom Shera had sent to the main army as the messenger of their exploits.

Since he had heard of the Third Army's defeat, his destination now was supposed to be Antigua Castle, though.

"Agh -- Antigua Castle has fallen, and is already under the Rebel Force banner! We -- The Cavalry Unit is now completely isolated!"

"...Tha-that's even worse!"

"C-c'mon, you're kidding, right?"

"If Antigua is gone, then what -- Where can we return to--"

Beyond commotion, the cavalrymen were now at a loss of words.

The whole region of land they stood on was enemy territory. The nearest landmark to them was the enemy stronghold, Salvador Fortress. The Royal Army's base, Antigua Castle, had also been occupied.

The Cavalry Unit's numbered two-thousand and five-hundred in total. They no longer had a place to return to.

The closest option was the Belta Castle up north-east, but even that was too far. The probability was low for them to safely escape all the way there.

"Vice-captain Shera, we..."

"Wh-what should we do?"

"Vice-captain Shera!"

Hell if they charged onward, hell if they turned back.

By now, the enemy likely has already been informed of their attack on the Supply Storehouse. And if so, troops would have certainly be dispatched on their pursuit. 

They had no doubt that the Liberation Force in the engagement was going to lay siege to them as well. With such turns of events, the unit seemed to be headed for certain annihilation.

Should they dismount from their horses, discard their blades, and resign themselves to a humiliating surrender? Should they push onward to the enemy stronghold, and die honourable deaths? Or should they attempt to cut open a new path, and head northeast to their nearest territory, the Belta Castle, hopeless as it may seem?

"Er, Vice-captain Shera?"

"...What, you folks want some chocolate?"

With all eyes of her cavalrymen on her, Shera flashed an innocent, childish smile. She proceeded to throw half-eaten chocolate into some of her troops' mouths, semi-forced them to chow down, then licked her fingers clean once again after that was done.

The cavalrymen, in mute amazement, had their mouths smeared with chocolate.

As for Shera, she now set her sights on the Armoury, left with plenty of unused Liberation Force equipment. While energising her brain with sweetness, she devised a plan, and carefully considered whether or not it might get them through.

The Third Royal Army had faced their defeat on Althia Plain. Currently, they were on the retreat, under pursuit from the Royal Capital Liberation Force. Great was the damage they had taken. Their Antigua Castle, fallen.

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