After our second meeting with the Divine Word Church was over, I found myself living through days so hectic I thought my eyes might spin out of my head.
It was all because the Demon King had forced the Tenth Army's full-scale operations onto my shoulders.
The Tenth Army technically already existed by name, but in practice it had been nothing more than a private militia for a provincial lord—its substance was practically nonexistent.
So rebuilding it was no different from starting from scratch.
I pulled personnel from other legions, sure, but the vast majority of the soldiers assigned to me were fresh recruits.
Green-as-grass kids who'd just graduated from the academy.
And since anyone with real potential had already been snatched up by other legions, all that was left for me were the dregs.
The ones I did manage to poach from other legions? All of them either had terrible records or minimal accomplishments.
Let's be blunt—I'd been handed a pile of rejects.
And now I was supposed to turn this into a functioning military force? You've got to be kidding me.
So there I was, running myself ragged trying to turn this rabble of degenerate soldiers into battle-crazed combat fanatics.
In the beginning, some idiot actually tried to sneak into my tent at night during a field exercise. Can you believe that? But after my heartfelt and sincere persuasion, he had a change of heart.
Now every last one of them is obediently loyal to me.
The fact that they all look like dead fish? You're imagining it.
What? Nobody tries to sneak into Fermina's tent at night?
Have some sympathy.
That girl is practically invisible.
She's the Vice-Commander and should theoretically be even more active than me, yet somehow not a single soldier can remember her face.
Poor thing.
Wait—how is Fermina even more of a wallflower than me, the guy who literally uses perception-inhibition magic?
If Fermina weren't here, this army couldn't function. Period.
She handles administration, soldier training, supply logistics—you name it. She's a one-woman miracle worker pulling off feats on eight fronts at once.
So why can't the soldiers remember her face?
That's one of the Seven Mysteries of the Tenth Army.
Incidentally, one of those mysteries involves why there are drawings of me sleeping floating around. Don't ask.
Between all of this, I spent roughly a year buried in the army's affairs, with no time to spare for anything else.
The elves were left entirely in
I don't have to do everything myself, and both Agner and the Demon King are competent, so I wasn't worried.
Well, the Demon King hadn't actually done much of anything.
In truth, interactions with the Divine Word Church couldn't really move forward until the plan to raid the elf village kicked into high gear.
And to make that happen, the war with the Human race had to end first.
My Tenth Army was growing nicely, but the other legions had seen some shuffling around too.
First, Oni-kun took up a commanding post.
Oni-kun was appointed commander of the Eighth Army—just like the Tenth, it had been nothing more than a name on paper.
Unlike me, though, he actually had proper personnel to work with.
He eliminated the lords who had connections to the elves, rounded up the private soldiers those lords had been managing, and consolidated them into the Eighth Army.
Agner was of course involved in purging those elf-connected lords, but officially, Oni-kun was the one who acted to avoid tipping off the elves.
He used that achievement as leverage to waltz into the commander's seat with great fanfare.
A faster rise through the ranks than even Mera.
Speaking of Mera, he officially took over the Fourth Legion from Bart and became the Fourth Army Commander.
Bart himself seemed wary of Mera, but with no one else capable enough to fill the role, he reluctantly handed over the seat.
Now free, Bart was being kept busy with command of the Demon King's direct forces and administrative duties.
Hang in there, Bart.
Don't lose, Bart.
Next was Black, who'd been given the Ninth Army.
But let's be real—the Ninth Army was Black's personal army. Period.
Dragons, wyverns, you name it.
Whether it was because of administrator authority, or because I simply didn't know they already existed, these creatures who had taken human forms made up the Ninth Army's ranks.
They weren't even Demon race.
By any measure, they were stronger than the other legions—no, they were absurdly strong.
These were not people you wanted to move around carelessly.
If my Tenth Army fought them, we'd get crushed without question.
Even the lowest-ranking member was potentially stronger than the executives of other legions.
Legions One through Three were proper Demon race forces.
Legion Four had a vampire at the top, but everyone else was a normal Demon race force.
Legions Five through Seven were all normal too.
The ones that weren't normal started from Legion Eight onward.
Anyway, with that, the legions were roughly in order.
Once the next generation of vampire kids graduated from the academy, I'd integrate them into the army, let them acclimate, and preparations would be complete.
I couldn't increase the personnel any further.
So the roster was set—but that brought up one problem.
Supplies were short.
Weapons and armor, mainly.
Given the current state of the Demon race, food production had to be the top priority.
The population was already declining, and we'd conscripted every able-bodied person, which meant there was a severe shortage of people working in production.
If we didn't funnel nearly all of them into food production, the entire Demon race would starve.
So weapons and armor inevitably got pushed to the back of the line.
I know—preparing for war and not having weapons sounds ridiculous.
But that was the situation.
And my legion was the Tenth Army.
Out of all the legions, from first to last, I was number ten.
Meaning last.
Supplies were distributed to us dead last.
So we had nothing decent!
The First Legion under Agner was outfitted with magnificent armor and swords, while all we got were used goods and shoddy merchandise.
Fermina had been arguing for better equipment, but competent as she was, she was still an inexperienced junior officer with no track record.
The higher-ups wouldn't give her the time of day.
When I tried going to Bart directly, he flatly told me that if there was nothing to give, there was nothing to give.
Bart had been running himself ragged with huge dark circles under his eyes, and even he said it was impossible. That's how dire the situation really was.
There was no point in pestering them further for things that didn't exist.
But without equipment, you can't fight.
I'd never held a weapon in my life before this, but even I knew it was a bit much to tell soldiers to fight bare-handed.
So I decided to rely on the one person who could make them.
"Alright, here's the deal—make them for me."
"Whoa whoa whoa. I'm busy too, you know?"
How dare you turn down my request, Oni-kun. You've gotten awfully full of yourself.
As you've probably guessed, the person I asked was Oni-kun.
Oni-kun could forge demonic swords using his Unique Skill.
It consumed MP, so he couldn't make them infinitely, but being able to craft weapons without raw materials was a huge plus.
I didn't need anything fancy—just decent swords would do.
I probably could've poached personnel from the Eighth Army instead, but...
I'd have been willing to exchange some of my hand-made undergarments (boosted defense included) for Eighth Army soldiers.
If you won't do this for me, there's no telling what I might resort to.
After persistent and tenacious negotiations, Oni-kun finally agreed.
That took care of weapons.
For armor, I gave up on actual plate and had everyone wear clothes woven from my thread.
Honestly, they had better defensive stats than most full-body armor out there.
Dressing all the soldiers in matching white full-body outfits and lining them up made the whole unit look like some kind of shady secret organization.
The white wasn't laziness on my part.
It wasn't because coloring them would be a hassle or anything like that.
Absolutely not.
And so, the Tenth Army's preparations were nearly complete.