A battlefield where the Demon race and Human race were all jumbled together.
No formations. No tactics. Just a free-for-all.
Strategy and coordination meant nothing to either side. All anyone could do was kill the enemy in front of them.
I can't command troops on a battlefield.
Not in my past life, not in this one — I've never had experience leading people into battle.
Since being put in charge of the 8th Army, I'd accumulated a little experience, but the staff officers who'd been there from the start could issue orders far more precisely than I ever could.
Frankly put, I'm not cut out to be a commander.
Ability-wise, I'm better off fighting on the front lines.
But considering the purpose of this war, I couldn't just go berserk by myself.
If I went wild, I'd inflict more damage on the Human race — but conversely, the Demon race would suffer less.
I had to deal equal blows to both sides, so that would be a bad move.
So, I couldn't rampage on the front lines.
But that didn't mean I could take up command in the rear either.
I can't do it.
And if the soldiers of the 8th Army found out I couldn't do it, they'd lose all respect for me.
The 8th Army's personnel were, to put it bluntly, a ragtag bunch.
We'd been formed by disbanding the private armies of Demon race lords who'd committed crimes, then reassembling the troops.
Because of that, the soldiers' morale was low.
Some even harbored thoughts of rebellion.
I was keeping them in line by sheer force alone.
So the moment I showed even a hint of weakness, it would be over.
Deserters would start fleeing one after another.
Among them, some might even seize the chance to come after me.
I wanted to believe that I'd already demonstrated enough strength to prevent that, but if it happened, I'd have to turn my blade on my own soldiers.
That would only increase the damage, and frankly, I didn't want to do that.
So my course of action was simple and clear.
If I couldn't command, then I just wouldn't command.
I'd turn the whole thing into such a muddy, chaotic melee that command wouldn't even matter.
And as a bonus, I'd make sure no one could desert. Then it'd be perfect.
I planted landmines behind the deployed 8th Army and made sure they knew about it.
There was no retreat.
And if anyone tried to run, I would personally cut them down.
They trembled in fear beautifully.
As for what I was doing myself — I was destroying the fortress.
I hurled the demon blade from as far away as possible, staying out of sight.
That would force the Human race troops to evacuate the fortress and advance whether they liked it or not.
My demon blade could smash through fortress defenses with absurd ease.
They couldn't hole up inside. If they stayed in, casualties would only mount.
I kept hurling the demon blade, driving them forward like cattle.
The Demon race army that couldn't retreat, and the Human race army that could only advance.
They had no choice but to collide.
When both sides were herded into each other like that, strategy and coordination became meaningless.
In the midst of the chaos, I kept hurling the demon blade behind the Human race army to drive them forward, while cutting down only the minimum number who came at me.
Even my long-range throws with the demon blade were deliberately aimed to minimize casualties.
If I reduced the Human race army too much, the Demon race army would take fewer losses.
Technically, they were my allies, so minimizing their damage was what a proper commander should do.
But everything I was doing was the exact opposite.
What a terrible army commander.
Those who ended up under my command were unlucky.
I genuinely sympathized.
But this was the only way I could do this.
I'd already made up my mind.
So I kept casually tossing the demon blade, cutting down the humans who charged at me, when — even amid the deafening battlefield — an oddly powerful war cry rang out.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
My first reaction was: That's impressive lung capacity.
A knight shouting at the top of his lungs, swinging his sword and charging straight toward me.
Through the gap in his helmet, I could catch a glimpse of an aged face lined with deep wrinkles.
He looked well past his prime, yet he was fighting with more vigor than anyone else on this battlefield.
That form — or rather, that swordsmanship — looked familiar.
It was the old knight who'd cornered me long ago, back when I was still an Ogre.
"Mmm! That commanding presence! You must be the one leading this Demon race army! My name is
Ugh, how exhausting…
The old knight Nyudoz had closed the distance almost right next to me and, without a care for anything else around us, challenged me to a one-on-one duel.
This guy really couldn't read the room.
We were past the stage of talking about honorable duels.
Did he seriously want to duel in the middle of a chaotic melee like this? Was he an idiot?
He was definitely an idiot.
But there was something refreshing about that idiocy.
He was an idiot, sure, but he was a man who lived by a straight and unwavering code.
He was faithful to his own convictions and lived with stubborn, honest integrity.
A little — no, quite a lot — enviable.
Completely different from me, who was always indecisive and waffling.
"I accept."
The reason I bothered answering out loud was simply because I wanted to.
I wanted to fight this man in a fair, head-on duel.
Nyudoz hadn't realized I was the same opponent he'd fought before.
Back then I'd been an Ogre, so I looked completely different now.
Well, I had no intention of telling him that.
No matter what the past held, this man wouldn't care.
For me, it was a rematch of sorts.
That thought gave me a strange feeling, but what I had to do didn't change.
"Come, then!"
Nyudoz lunged forward with blinding speed.
It was a speed you wouldn't expect from an old man — or more precisely, from someone wearing heavy armor.
People said the Human race was inferior to the Demon race in Status, but that lunge was sharper than most demons could manage.
In the entire 8th Army, I doubted many could match that kind of charge.
"!?"
Even so, he couldn't reach me.
I was far stronger than I'd been back when I was an Ogre.
My demon blade shattered Nyudoz's sword.
It had probably been a renowned blade, but against the brute force of my Status and demon steel, it was cut clean in half.
Then I split open Nyudoz's neck.
He wasn't even given a chance to resist. His head fell to the ground.
I wanted him to die peacefully — before he could even feel the pain.
It might seem presumptuous of me to think such things.
But it was the least I could do.
Apparently, Nyudoz had been an important figure to the Human race army. The soldiers who witnessed his death fell into disarray, and their lines collapsed.
Once one corner crumbled, the rest of the Human race army toppled like dominoes.
And so, our 8th Army claimed victory.