— Banseim's main camp.
Banseim's forces, which had been conducting operations within Baim, were growing increasingly frustrated by the stagnant battlefield.
The orders from Ceres had been vague—crush Baim—and there were even words about killing everyone. But questions lingered about how far to carry that out, and how far Ceres would need to see things go before being satisfied.
A battlefield with uncertain victory conditions. For Banseim, Baim had been less a battlefield and more a hunting ground. But now, the momentum was shifting toward Baim.
The supreme commander tapped his desk with his index finger, suppressing his irritation.
"Can't we just bombard the city with magic and silence them? The moment we lose our numerical advantage, we sit around doing nothing."
One of the generals stood with arms crossed, looking downward.
"But if we destroy all the city's infrastructure, we won't be able to maintain the Dungeon that Baim manages. In the worst case, there's a risk it could go berserk. With a Dungeon that extends over a hundred floors underground, there's no telling how much damage it would cause."
The existence of the Dungeon was the reason Baim couldn't be wiped out in one stroke. Stimulating it carelessly and causing it to activate—or worse, to go berserk—would be catastrophic. A neighboring country that once bordered Baim had been destroyed by a Dungeon smaller than this one.
For that reason, Banseim would need to take on the responsibility of maintaining the Dungeon once it was secured.
However, the city's interior favored Baim's residents, and in the confined battlefield, it was easier for the adventurers to fight.
Even so, Banseim's forces hadn't lost ground in terms of numbers or quality. But...
"That brat from the Royal Guard hasn't come back either. If we keep bleeding our main force like this..."
As the supreme commander muttered those words, a messenger burst into the tent.
"A messenger! The unit led by the Viscount has been annihilated inside the city by the adventurers! A female knight in red armor has been spotted!"
"Not again!"
The Knight Commander stood up, frowning at the report.
"I told them to stick together at the Knight Baron and Baronet level, and now they're targeting Barons and Viscounts?"
Right after, another messenger with a pale face rushed into the tent.
"A messenger! The positions inside the city have been seized! A female knight in green armor led thousands of troops and crashed through — our units were forced to retreat!"
One of the generals roared.
"Send reinforcements! Tch, did we let them get cocky?"
And then yet another messenger burst into the tent. Covered in mud and leaning on the shoulders of two soldiers, the messenger was utterly haggard.
"What is it this time?!"
The messenger, gasping for breath, delivered the report.
"...The elite unit led by Head Guard Captain Bread has been routed. Survivors number in the thousands. Lyle Walt of South Baim seized Redant Fortress without pause... South Baim's forces are approximately thirty thousand strong... The army carries the Cartaphus banner... Absorbing the people of Baim as they advance, they are heading this way."
The supreme commander shot to his feet in shock at the report, then turned to the generals gathered in the tent.
"They had that many prepared?! ...Pull back every unit that entered the city — immediately! We need to reorganize! If this keeps up, we'll be caught in a pincer attack!"
How many soldiers remained inside Baim? And Baim had already suffered no small amount of damage from Banseim as well.
With Lyle cutting off their line of retreat, the confident expressions Banseim's generals had worn until now were completely blown away.
They had dispatched troops to Redant Fortress from their side as well, leaving them there as a precaution.
"I don't think he'd betray us, but that type of person is so capable it ends up working against them."
As I rode Porter, settling down on my side, Eva—who had been taking notes rather than watching Valkyrie No. 1 and No. 2 glaring at each other nearby—turned her gaze toward me.
"Hey, you ask someone to compose a song about their ancestor and then don't even think about it. So this Fredrix guy met the Kirin, right? I mean, how does someone who's that cold to kids end up being an animal lover? Seriously, how am I supposed to turn this into a song or a story?"
After getting an earful from Eva, I had been lying on the sofa.
"Sorry about that. But there's just been a lot on my mind. Besides, the Fifth Generation had his reasons. He was a kind person. Kind, but clumsy."
Eva shrugged and went back to writing her notes. Then, still looking at her notes:
"Aren't you overthinking this? They entered Zayin, so they can't follow us easily. Well, there's always the possibility they'll push their way in, though."
I smiled at Eva, who was worried about Banseim's movements.
"No need to worry. It looks like they're reorganizing their forces and holding position. They split into two groups out of fear of a pincer attack, but they still outnumber us."
That said, even with Novem's group doing their thing inside Baim, we still needed to pick up the pace.
Inside the Jewel, the Third Generation was deep in thought.
"We might have ships, but how many can we send at once... Piecemeal deployment of forces is a losing move, you know."
The Seventh Generation was laughing.
"They won't be able to go all-out with their magic in the Dungeon anyway, out of fear of it collapsing. And with Novem on our side, she should be able to deflect even a bit of reckless fire. Wow, as expected of a former goddess. Well, she was a dark god, wasn't she? Either way, it doesn't matter."
They really were a carefree bunch.
Unit One, who was in the Porter's cargo area facing Monica, came over to report to me.
"Oh, this is a report from the sisters at Zayin. It looks like they've set up rest areas at Zayin. If we can make it that far, we'll be able to give the soldiers a break."
Upon hearing that, I sat up.
"That's a relief. Pass along my thanks to Aura, Selma, and Gastone."
While Banseim's forces were searching for us across Baim's territory, we were heading through the Four-Nation Alliance toward the port.
The reason was simple: it would be rude to keep relying on sneak attacks every time, so this time we'd go in head-on. This was the Third Generation's idea. As expected from the one who came up with scorched-earth tactics — pretty dirty. The Third Generation was really dirty.
Miranda was commanding thirty Valkyries, the soldiers brought from South Baim, and the adventurers and soldiers who had joined up in Baim.
In terms of raw numbers, it was fewer than three thousand, but they were well-equipped and had sent all unnecessary personnel to the rear. While studying maps of the urban area and monitoring enemy movements, they surrounded and struck down any enemies they found.
Miranda had arranged wooden crates in a row and spread maps across them, marking positions.
"So, the evacuation is progressing, I take it?"
She asked a grizzled, veteran-looking adventurer, who nodded.
"It is. But I've never heard of evacuating into a Dungeon with an escort. It's like seeking refuge in a Monsters' nest, isn't it?"
Miranda looked at the adventurer.
"What else can we do? We don't have ships to evacuate them on. The merchants fled on their own. So we have to do what we can."
Too large a population — that was the result of a city that had flourished through magic, where even healing was available via magic, leading to unchecked population growth. On top of that, Baim relied heavily on food imports. Yet despite importing so much, it was all consumed, and they still managed to earn money by exporting other goods. The reason was that Baim had managed a massive Dungeon.
And that swollen population was now dragging them down. With insufficient places to evacuate to, Miranda and the others had decided to make use of the Dungeon.
"Besides, a Dungeon is so unexpected that no one would think of it. Once you're inside, it's the adventurers' domain, right?"
At those words, the adventurer nodded. He placed a hand on his head, smiling faintly.
"I certainly wouldn't want to fight in there. We're practically already waging war in a mountain of rubble as it is."
Baim's cityscape, which had prospered thanks to magic and fire, had crumbled, with rubble strewn across the streets. Many buildings had collapsed and were now nothing but ruins.
Around them, Baim's soldiers watched Miranda and the others. Then the adventurer who had been serving as their spokesperson spoke up.
"...If people like you had come sooner..."
Was he resentful toward Miranda's group, or toward the upper echelon that had fled? There was no doubt his feelings were complicated.
Miranda let out a small sigh.
(I need to steer the resentment toward Baim's merchants and Guild executives carefully. Still, supplies and soldiers keep being sent in one after another... With the enemy's offensive weakened, falling back to regroup wouldn't be a bad idea.)
At the position Zayin had prepared, we were resting the soldiers.
After this, we would march hard toward the port of Galleria, and from there board the arranged ships to enter Baim.
As we made those plans, Clara lay exhausted in my tent from the effort of operating the Porter. Monica was preparing snacks and drinks to serve the guests.
The tent felt tense. Outside, dusk had fallen, and the sounds of soldiers drinking and making noise drifted in.
The clamor from outside and the sounds of Monica preparing tea filtered in clearly. The tent was so quiet you could even hear Clara's sleeping breath — Eva had fled the tent at top speed, escaping from this crisis situation entirely. The Third Generation inside the Jewel was brimming with excitement.
"Ooh! Now this is getting interesting. A tea party with this lineup? I'd pass on that in a heartbeat. Lyle really is something."
Not enjoyable. Not enjoyable at all.
"...Um, Lord Lyle? You seem to have been busy lately — how are you feeling, health-wise?"
Selma came to visit us. Naturally, the soldiers from Zayin were with her — she had come to boost their morale. Aura was too busy to make it, so Selma, the former Saintess, came in her place.
However, in Zayin, the song Selma and I had sung together had become popular and spread far and wide, so Selma seemed very conscious of that.
Her face was turning red from time to time. The ones watching Selma like that were Gracia and Eliza. The elf bards of Zayin had been performing songs for the soldiers, and upon hearing the song Selma and I sang, they came charging into the tent.
And they did it right in front of Selma, no less.
"Lyle, what is the meaning of this? You said there was nothing going on with Zayin..."
Gracia stared at me with a fierce expression. Eliza looked at me with cold, emotionless eyes — no, her eyes were slightly teary. It made my heart ache.
"No, that's just a song. It's the truth. When I saved Zayin, there were rumors about me and Aura too, but those eventually died down..."
With that, Eliza stood up.
"S-She's still here?! How many women have you been involved with?! I-I knew you had a lot, but this is just..."
From within the Jewel, the Seventh Generation's gravelly voice came echoing out.
*"Now then, how are you going to navigate this crisis, Lyle? We can't find a way out. How will you escape this disadvantageous situation?!"*
They were definitely enjoying this. The Third Generation spoke up in a serious tone as well.
*"Hey, why not just pin them down right here? It'd cause trouble later, and things would get complicated... but I'd love to see that situation unfold. No wait! Making a move on Clara right here and now could work too!"*
As expected, these guys were the worst. Surrounded by a different kind of tension than the battlefield, I tried to come up with an excuse... when suddenly my body went limp.
"H-Huh?"
Then, Selma approached me.
"Are you alright, Lord Lyle?!"
That was when Eliza—
"G-Get away from him! Think about the age gap, former Saintess. And Lyle, don't think you can distract us with such an obvious trick... Lyle?"
Eliza peered into my face. And Gracia looked at me too...
"This... could it be, at a timing like this? Why? No, I suppose it wouldn't be strange for it to happen under these circumstances, but..."
And then Monica looked at me, trembling.
"It's... Fever Time. It's Fever Time! At last, the true Chicken's time has come!"
Gracia tilted her head, looking at Monica.
"Fever Time? No, I get what you're trying to say. But if he runs into enemies after growing up in this situation, that's dangerous."
Eliza seemed to understand too, nodding along.
"R-Right. Lyle needs to be isolated. This is Rusworth, so—"
Gracia grabbed Eliza by the collar and lifted her up.
"You! What do you plan to do by saying that! Say it! Look me in the eyes and say it!"
Eliza averted her gaze from Gracia. Selma was cradling me on the floor, holding me in her lap like a pillow. This was a problem. The motherly feeling was terribly comforting.
Inside the increasingly noisy tent, Monica addressed Gracia and Eliza.
"Quiet down! There's no need to make a fuss. As for the Chicken — since he's post-growth, there's no way he can fail. If anything, you should expect that this is where he gets serious!"
My body was gradually growing heavier. And despite feeling utterly exhausted, I said to Monica.
"Wait. Hold on a second. Stop saying things like 'post-growth me is my true form'! Please stop!"
From within the Jewel, the Third Generation spoke in a trembling voice.
"What timing. Lyle really is a man who's got it, huh?"
The Seventh Generation seemed to share the same opinion.
"Magnificent. From entering Galleria to traveling by sea to Baim — timing-wise, this might just be... the perfect moment, one could say."
No. Absolutely not. This time, there was no way I'd arrive at Baim after growing up... surely. That's what I wanted to believe.