146 – Ceasefire (1)

“…This concludes the report.”

The reporters bustled about. They vied for a chance to report the exclusive before competing news outlets. The investigator, having finished his report, couldn’t avoid the barrage of questions.

Enough with the stories of the Magocracy’s contact with the Demon King’s army, the massacres committed with forbidden magic.

What mattered was the ceasefire.

“This war… we have to end it, no matter what. Save even one more life.”

“Roll the cameras.”

The investigator descended from the platform. I brushed past him, taking his place. A battery of cameras swiveled, following my every move.

Climbing onto the platform, I glanced over the prepared speech.

[I am Erich Ronstein, an officer of the Mado Nation. I have returned alive from a deserted island occupied by the Mazoku. From this moment onward, I will relate what I saw and experienced there.]

All I had to do was repeat the report given by the previous officer. Even that alone would have a profound effect.

But… would that truly end the war so easily?

The Mado Nation was, to a considerable degree, closed off.

Shouting myself hoarse here, day in and day out, would achieve nothing if it didn’t reach the people of Mado. And as long as the Generalissimo held power, the Hazkaiel government would attempt to control the flow of information.

Even if word of my return somehow reached the other side, they would likely dismiss it, claiming I was coerced by the Unified States into spreading lies.

So, what to do then?

Simple. Find the frequency bands the Mado Nation used to incite its citizens and soldiers, and bleed a signal into them.

Of course, those bands were protected by Mana ciphers, making them difficult to crack. But the way I was now, I could do it.

I crumpled the speech, tossed it aside, and snapped my fingers.

[“Waves, spread.”]

Mana coalesced, infusing the magnet embedded within the microphone.

I laced my Mana signature into the broadcast, scattering it.

[“To the Mazoku and the heretical Eight Shadows mages hiding throughout the Mado Nation government: For your research and attempts into the forbidden art of raising the dead through mass slaughter, I hereby pronounce immediate execution.”]

That was all. As I stepped down from the platform, a flock of elven reporters, brows furrowed in confusion, unleashed a torrent of clicks.

“Was that the language of demons you just spoke?”

“Could you tell us what you just said!”

“It seems you deviated from the speech you dropped here! Is there a reason for that?”

Amidst the deluge of questions, my gaze locked with Adora’s. She was examining the prepared statement, her expression blank for a moment, before a small, knowing smile crept across her face.

“Major, you’re sharp, aren’t you?”

“Give it a try, Commander. Nothing’s better for sticking it to those b*stards.”

“Ah, yes. That would be good.”

Adora handed the speech back to me and strode onto the platform. Her gait was brisk, almost buoyant.

“Ahem.”

Clearing her throat, Adora began.

[“From this moment, I will announce the list of those to be purged.”]

[“Minister Leonhardt Adranz.”]

“……What?”

[“Deputy Prime Minister Hagen Welpenstein.”]

“This cannot be.”

[“Secretary to the Führer, Ludwig von Enkron.”]

“Who on earth……?”

[“Propaganda Minister Dietrich Wiemberg.”]

“Which b*stard, which b*stard has exposed our identities!”

[“Commander-in-Chief of the Schutzstaffel, Albrecht Stillen.”]

“Ahem.”

[“Minister of Munitions, Friedrich Nordmann.”]

“Did those fool Marok finally fail, then.”

Numerous other high-ranking officials were named one after another. Their commonality was that they had appeared like comets the moment the Führer came to power, serving to assist him.

[“National Leader, Redmund Wilhelm.”]

“……”

Indeed. The bond they shared was none other than the Führer. The one who had risen from unlicensed doctor to leader of a nation, with the support of the Marok people who were dissatisfied with the Holy Empire’s diplomatic meddling and the economic depression.

[“I grant you all a month’s grace. Choose one of three options. Swear the Pact of Jeriem to commit suicide, inform the Marok people of your crimes and surrender meekly to the Allied Forces, or resist to the bitter end and meet your ruin.”]

The Führer rose from his seat. He ordered his secretary to summon the important figures. A short while later, the most prominent black mages of the underworld had gathered.

“Just one more step and our paradise for mages will arrive…”

“Annoyingly, a turncoat has appeared.”

“The information must have been leaked from somewhere. Does anything come to mind?”

“Führer.”

At the call of the Commander-in-Chief of the Septarchy, the Führer raised his head.

“It is highly likely that Major Adora Gifold is the culprit.”

“Did you analyze the magical residue carried on the radio frequency?”

“The analysis reveals that it was not her magical residue. However, the voice is a match.”

“We cannot be certain. If the magical residue is wrong, the voice could belong to another person. It could even be fabricated. And you know, don’t you? That all my loyalists are trustworthy.”

In truth, the Führer also suspected Adora as the perpetrator. Due to the loss of contact from the Tatankur Islands.

But logically, it didn’t make sense.

Adora Gifold was a puppet. A binding was placed upon her, such that her heart would rupture should she act even slightly against her own will.

“The magic laid upon that child is not generally undone. Not unless a mage exceptionally skilled in mana manipulation were to join forces with a high priest versed in holy power…”

Of course, such a thing was improbable. A mage and a priest of the Holy Order cooperating? A ludicrous notion.

“Minister of Propaganda.”

“Yes, Supreme Commander.”

“I entrust the silencing of the populace to you. Prevent any rumors from spreading, no matter what.”

“Understood.”

The Supreme Commander gazed down at a map of the world.

“We will fight to the bitter end. The coming of the Demon God can be delayed a little longer. First, we will pour all our strength into erasing the vile Holy Order from this world.”

He then proceeded to explain the advance routes for each fleet.

“Pinar’s fleet is strong, so make liberal use of submarines and drones. And inform the commanders at the vanguard to prepare for a decisive fleet battle.”

“Yes.”

The strategic discussion concluded. It was the next moment that the forensic investigator addressed the Supreme Commander.

“Supreme Commander, we have identified the source of the magical residue detected from the radio.”

“Who is it?”

“An Air Force officer of the rank of Captain, named Erich Ronstein.”

“Erich Ronstein? That name is unfamiliar.”

“An orphan who entered and graduated at the top of his class from the Laron Academy. A genius who, after obtaining his doctorate from the same institution, honorably discharged as an Army Sergeant, and then, after the war, was appointed a Second Lieutenant in the Air Force on the southern front—a true elite.”

“Elite? Elite is it… merely an average ROTC officer, I say.”

“Wouldn’t it be prudent to investigate further?”

The Supreme Commander waved his hand dismissively.

“No, there’s no need to waste resources pointlessly. It’s probably some United States lackey who captured a prisoner and manipulated his mana signature with Spiritism. A ploy to squander our manpower and time, which we absolutely mustn’t fall for.”

“But, Supreme Commander…”

“Enough. Say no more. If your report is finished, you may leave. I need time to think.”

“…Understood.”

*Thunk.*

The forensic investigator closed the door and departed. The Supreme Commander remained seated for quite some time, envisioning a world where the Holy Order and the Goddess had vanished, and the Demonic Cult and the Demon God held sway.

The corners of his mouth involuntarily curled upwards at the mere thought.

However, the Supreme Commander’s vision seemed very far from becoming reality.

And for good reason.

“Excellency… Certain troops are voicing concerns that some among them have been surreptitiously listening to the United States’ announcements.”

The army’s heart was beginning to waver.

Erich Rohnstein. That name, once deemed insignificant, was slowly gnawing away at the Magocracy’s strength.

*

“The soldiers are growing restless.”

Air Force Command.

Tetman Gepolt’s private office – he, the Southern Sea Air Force General Commander and father of Adora Gepolt.

Tetman, receiving his adjutant’s report, wore a grave expression.

“The rhetoric in the enemy’s propaganda is deeply unsettling.”

“Magical residue?”

“Analysis confirms it perfectly matches that of Lieutenant Colonel Erich Rohnstein.”

“Do the soldiers know this?”

“Every Mage of Second Class or higher recognized it before any analysis could be done. His voice, his magical signature – everything is identical to that officer’s…”

Tetman sighed.

Erich Rohnstein. Tetman was well aware of his reputation.

Erich, the officer who distributed mana stones, possessed an exceptional character. He was also remarkably efficient. As such, he was constantly being dispatched and reassigned amidst the personnel shortages.

Visiting various units to deliver mana stones, he unknowingly captivated the hearts of the soldiers and officers there.

So much so that even Tetman himself was swayed.

To the point that he had considered, given the opportunity, arranging a meeting between him and his daughter after the war, hoping to take him as a son-in-law. His orphan status was of no consequence. He excelled not only in character but also in appearance and academics.

Tetman’s sigh wasn’t just for that reason. Rather, the primary cause was another voice caught in the broadcast disseminated by the United States.

Adora.

Tetman had distinctly heard his daughter’s voice.

Adora had been dispatched to somewhere at sea a few months prior, after which contact was lost. He had assumed that she had completed her mission successfully and returned to headquarters.

Still, it bothered him that she hadn’t even bothered to contact her family to let them know she was safe.

But she was a resilient and strong girl, so he thought she would be alright. Believing so, Tetman had focused on the war.

But why was his daughter’s voice coming from enemy propaganda broadcasts?

“Commander, a message from the Allied Nations.”

“A message? They have something to say?”

“Yes, and it’s a confidential message, for your ears only, Commander.”

An officer from the Information Security Department presented the communication logs. Tetman’s brow furrowed.

“They wish to meet *me* directly?”

The Allied Nations proposed a private parley. The location: here, at the forward command of the Southern Fleet.

“Even if I dislike the machinations of those above, I cannot hold diplomatic talks without the Führer’s blessing. Surely the Allied Nations understand this… Hmm.”

Tettmann’s brow furrowed.

“Misstep, and my head could be forfeit.”

“But, Admiral.”

“I am aware. If the high command has broken the Covenant of Magic, that changes the entire equation.”

“For confirmation alone, a meeting is necessary. It is certain that the enemy holds some of our high-ranking mages as prisoners, is it not? If they are of importance, we can contact the Allied Nations under the pretext of a rescue operation.”

“…Then, we shall do this.”

In that instant, Tettmann conceived a brilliant stratagem. He scribbled a note and showed it to his aide. The aide nodded in assent.

“This method may prove acceptable.”

And several days later, a skirmish erupted between the Magic Kingdom and the Allied Forces.

The location: the Tatangkur Sea.

Since the Republic’s entry into the war, the Tatangkur Sea had fallen into Allied hands. The Magic Kingdom, following the Führer’s grand strategy, mobilized its fleet to reclaim it.

First to deploy were reconnaissance drones. Swift instruments of death, armed with ghastly mana stones, were ensnared and brought down by the Republic’s aerial nets.

“Dismantle the drone.”

“A note has been discovered!”

“What does it say?”

“It’s written in the Hui language; we cannot decipher it.”

“Interpreter, please.”

“…Blanks,” he stated. “It says ‘blanks.'”

The Allied Nations Admiral’s lips twitched.

“Here, in Tatangkur, the fogs are often dense. Prepare for boarding actions, in case we draw close to the enemy ships.”

Some soldiers looked bewildered, but the commander’s word was absolute. The troops moved to comply.

And a short time later, a series of ear-splitting roars erupted, as if heaven and earth were splitting apart.

Then, piercing the fog, a massive warship appeared. The vessel narrowly scraped alongside the *Pinar*, the flagship.

“That is…!”

“The Magic Kingdom’s flagship!”

Above the din, the chain of an anchor being dropped filled the air.

Dozens of shadows appeared on the deck. The heavily armed soldiers and officers of the Mado Kingdom, and then their general, revealed themselves in turn.

The United States Admiral studied the opposing general’s face through his spyglass. The other was doing the same, observing them with binoculars.

“A bold one, that,”

The United States Admiral muttered.

*Flap.*

The standard-bearers of both armies waved their flags. A signal indicating no intention of engaging in combat. War flags were an international standard. Placing his binoculars down, Tetman spoke.

“Lay the bridge.”

*Thunk, thunk.*

The engineers of the Mado Kingdom moved quickly, creating a gangway between the two ships.

“We’ll go first.”

United States Marines cautiously stepped onto the bridge and moved forward. But at their head stood two soldiers from the Mado Kingdom.

One of them, a woman with elegant, shoulder-length hair. Her very gait spoke of nobility, and she bore a resemblance to Tetman, maybe half.

It couldn’t be helped.

“…Adora?”

The woman was, after all, Tetman’s daughter.

“Papa.”

“Yes, why are *you* there?”

“Well, it’s a long story.”

“Can you not summarize it in a single sentence?”

“Hmm, well…”

Adora twirled a strand of her hair and replied, articulating each word carefully,

“Let’s just say, during a mission, I was shipwrecked on a deserted island due to an unforeseen accident, survived for several months, miraculously returned, became a prisoner of the United States, and now I might even be pregnant?”

“What?”

“A deserted island. Returned from a deserted island, and pregnant.”

“Deserted island? Returned? You, pregnant? No, you mean you’re carrying a child?”

“Perhaps.”

“Just what kind of scoundrel! Who dared lay a hand on my daughter…!”

“Right here.”

Adora smiled sweetly and pointed to the man beside her. The soldiers who saw the man’s face couldn’t help but be astonished. It was someone they knew very well.

“Erich, say hello. This is my father.”

Adora, linked arm-in-arm with Erich, explained with a shy blush.

“Papa, I wanted to say this upfront before you misunderstand. I… I was the one who initiated things. I know premarital chastity is a family tradition, but there are circumstances…”

“…Ugh.”

“Your Excellency? Your Excellency! Please, regain your senses!”