『The long war ended in futility. As everyone had expected, the Great Land’s conquering army brought down the walls of the insignificant peninsula, trampling and burning its lands. The people of the continent mocked the sovereign of Han. Defeat had been inevitable, so why had he resisted so fiercely? Had he surrendered sooner, might he not have saved at least a handful of his people?

The sordid conduct displayed by Han’s king at the end of the war was decisive in shaping that opinion. As the walls neared collapse, their sovereign abandoned his dignity and proposed a truce, offering countless terms in an attempt to reach a compromise with the Great Land. Yet, firm as ever, Khan’s descendant rejected the vile king’s proposal and bravely passed judgment upon them...

That was the conclusion of the eastern continent’s War of Conquest as it was known across the continent. The truth, however, differed somewhat from what people knew. History, after all, is written by the victors.』

* * *

As Seolyun breathed her last, joy and despair swept through the opposing camps. It felt as though champions representing Han and the 「Great Land」 had fought a duel. The conquering army’s morale plummeted, while the defenders’ soared sky-high. Fervent cheers erupted everywhere.

Nothing had changed.

One fighter on the conquering army’s side had died. In terms of the outcome alone, that was all. Death occurred every moment in these War Duels. Judging only by the result, then, this atmosphere was difficult to understand.

Seolyun had died. But Arhan, who had fought her, was hardly in good shape either. He looked so precarious that a light nudge might topple him. Nor had his victory been particularly overwhelming. A hair’s breadth. He had won by the smallest of margins. Why, then, was Han behaving as though it had already won, and the 「Great Land」 as though it had already lost?

Was it because the presence those two exuded had seized the entire battlefield and drawn everyone into their fight? Because the soldiers on either side had seen themselves reflected in the two fighters? That was partly true, but it was not the decisive reason. The decisive reason was that the 「Great Land」’s conquering soldiers were, at heart, both grassland barbarians and devout believers.

The barbaric mounted warriors revered the great Khan who had once ruled the continent. They also worshipped the Father Who Never Sleeps, one of the seven chief gods. Both figures symbolized struggle. The Great Land—the Khan Empire—even had a tradition called trial by combat. Whatever wrong a person had committed, victory in the prescribed duel meant that person was declared right.

To the Great Land’s conquering soldiers, who held struggle no less sacred than orcs did, the duel they had just witnessed was close to a trial by combat. And after a fierce contest, it was the 「Great Land」’s side that had lost. Having witnessed the result with their own eyes, the soldiers could no longer fight bravely. It felt as though the Father Who Never Sleeps had declared this war wrong.

“Ugh, uhhh. Uhhhh.”

If so, even dying in this war would not bring them to the Father’s side. They would not reach the boundless grasslands where their ancestors awaited them. The unyielding courage that had filled their minds faltered in that moment. And Khan’s descendant, who could have instilled fresh courage in these ignorant barbarians, had not been recreated in the spirit world.

And so—

“R-retreat.”

The conquering army lost its will to fight entirely.

“Retreat! We’re retreating!”

Their courage deserted them.

Their resolve broke.

“W-we must ask Khan’s descendant. We must ask whether we should continue this war. K-Khan’s descendant can commune with the Great One, so he will give us the right answer. S-so we fools must return for now. We m-must return...!”

In that moment, an army held together by its absolute leader’s charisma became a disorganized rabble. The conquering army, which had advanced almost to the foot of the walls, turned and began to retreat.

“What?”

The fighters on the 「Great Land」’s side could only stare in disbelief. They had nearly broken through, and now they were running because they had lost a duel? What was this, some sort of match-fixing by crooked fighters taking bribes to throw a fight...?

“You crazy—”

“Shut up.”

But before they could voice their complaints, those fighters were killed by other fighters. Fighters from the eastern continent. Tricked by the Arena into joining this side, they were glad to see the conquering army flee in panic. They were glad, too, to see the faces of Han’s soldiers embracing one another in distant, ecstatic celebration.

“Don’t ruin this.”

It was only a spirit world, yet the eastern-continent fighters smiled with joy. All of it was an illusion, yet they smiled with satisfaction nonetheless. In this moment, winning or losing did not matter to them. It was a false victory, and for them as participants in the War Duels, it was actually a defeat. But they did not care.

“Don’t ruin it...”

The fighters simply closed their eyes, each remembering the past. With their eyes shut, the eastern-continent fighters gladly met death at the hands of Han’s charging defenders. The defenders’ counterattack had tremendous momentum. So much so that one could imagine them winning even if the eastern-continent fighters had not laid down their weapons, even if the conquering army had not retreated.

“The true! King! Is helping us!”

“Follow him!”

The defenders’ momentum was tremendous. Its source was the dragon artifacts. After Arhan’s victory, the dragon artifacts had begun radiating brilliant light. Bathed in that light, the defenders shook off their exhaustion and advanced like seasoned warriors, burning with zeal.

“... What the hell?”

The fighters from Han all reacted much the same way, including those holding the glowing dragon artifacts.

“Why did they all suddenly turn into berserkers?”

“Are those Arena clowns pulling something again? They’re always playing bizarre tricks to keep the story from getting predictable, aren’t they? Like swapping the fighters’ sides this time...”

“... You think?”

Their bewilderment did not last long.

The 「Arena」’s hosts were famous for their eccentricities, after all. Those antics were even worse in exhibition duels than in official ones. The fighters had seen their ‘strange tricks’ far too often to be surprised, so they took it in stride.

Well, they would probably spout some bullshit again about a ‘hidden element’ based on concealed historical truths of the War of Conquest. Or a ‘surprise intervention’ by the Arena to create an entertaining scene...

While the fighters were coming to terms with it that way—

“...”

Outside, a scene quite unlike what they imagined was unfolding.

“...?”

“...?”

The 「Arena」’s staff were watching.

Among them, the very planner responsible for these 「War Duels」 stared at the scene unfolding before him and spoke in an exceedingly grave, serious voice.

“What the f*ck?”

* * *

In a fierce war, it was common to select champions and hold a captain battle. All the more so if one’s own champion was exceptionally skilled. Winning a captain battle greatly boosted an army’s morale, and morale was extremely valuable in war.

But captain battles did not play a pivotal role in warfare. Normally, the most important things in war were supplies, troop management, proper organization, and the like...

“What in the world is this?”

Faced with this unforeseen development, the planner felt as though someone had struck him hard in the back of the head. A headache setting in, he forced himself to think. Yes, the 「Great Land」’s conquering army might behave that way. Weren’t they a band of fanatics whose thinking resembled that of orcs? Without Khan’s descendant, the conquering army might panic in a situation like this.

Yes.

‘That could happen in reality...’

In ‘reality.’

‘But these aren’t the real conquering soldiers. Why are these bastards recreated in the spirit world running wild on their own?’

The conquering army there was a virtually constructed group. They were mirages that could vanish with a wave of a hand. The Arena’s planner had not wanted a recreation this ‘realistic.’ An intended development would have been one thing, but this was clearly unintended. The fierce war was supposed to continue here, followed by desperate fighting between the fighters for the remaining time. Along the way, the dragon artifacts were supposed to shine, and there needed to be events showcasing certain fighters the 「Arena」 was promoting. And yet, why, all of a sudden...?

‘Why? Why the hell? Fck?’ *

The planners who meticulously designed the Arena’s matches were tolerant of most situations. They would not hesitate to make laughingstocks of themselves if it provided entertainment. Some planners even introduced themselves with the derogatory label ‘clown.’ Among planners, belittling oneself to promote an event was praised as ‘professional.’

But this was different.

Planners were tolerant of most situations, but not of matches they had designed unfolding in an ‘unintended direction.’ That dealt a tremendous scratch to their pride and brought their inflated egos crashing down. Naturally, then, the first word that rose to the planner’s lips upon witnessing this incident was ‘f*ck.’

‘Fck!’ *

Now the sponsors who had gladly invested in these War Duels, and the many planners who had helped design them, would all have something to say. That was truly unwelcome. Truly, exceedingly unwelcome...

And so, his pride wounded and his temper thoroughly roused by the problems to come, the 「Arena」 planner went to find the cause of this ‘unintended’ incident.

“What is this?”

With superhuman patience, the planner swallowed the ‘f*ck’ threatening to escape. The people he had approached were exceedingly exalted, after all. They were ‘honored guests’ whose wrath would bring unimaginable repercussions if a mere clown from the steel city dared display anger.

“... Is something wrong?”

Witches.

The most exalted women of the Heavenly Empire.

The magical beings seated in lofty dignity looked at the planner, whose face was red as he suppressed his anger. Keeping his temper in check as best he could, he presented his case. Honored guests or not, hadn’t they clearly been hired by the 「Arena」? In his view, the witches had failed to perform their duties properly, and as their employer, he was entitled to raise an objection. Pointing out the issues one by one was therefore the ‘professional’ thing to do. Besides, if he gave actual witches a dressing-down, he could boast triumphantly about it over drinks later...

And so the planner opened his mouth.

“What is happening out there? I asked you to recreate cavalry, not all of that. Because of you, the progression I designed has gone off course. Do you realize how insulting that is to a planner?”

“... Is that so? But we sisters were asked to recreate the soldiers of both sides during the War of Conquest. We merely did as you instructed.”

“Come on, what army retreats because it lost a captain battle? All you needed to do was recreate some cavalry. And do you think that’s the only problem?”

Seeing the witches’ brazen response, the planner found his tongue loosened.

“I requested special functions for the Dragon Sword alone, so why are the other dragon artifacts glowing? And what is with Han’s defenders rampaging like berserkers? I’m being flooded with questions about whether there’s some special hidden meaning or historical significance to all this. I’ll have to explain every detail if we’re going to sell them at auction later, and thanks to you, I feel like I’ve been screwed over. This is an extremely difficult situation! At this rate, we’ll have trouble paying the agreed fee. Hah—”

While the witches remained silent, the planner brazenly poured out everything he wanted to say. When he came to his senses, he realized his emotions had carried him away and he had talked far too much. Words had momentum, after all; once poured out in anger, they tended to keep spilling beyond what one intended. With a twinge of alarm, he reviewed what he had just said for any mistakes. Fortunately, there had been no slips of the tongue. On the contrary, he had been thoroughly professional and said everything that needed saying. He doubted he would lie in bed that night regretting, like some loser, ‘I should have said that too...’

“... Is that so?”

The planner was beginning to feel proud of how perfectly he had raised the issues. Had he always been this articulate? Those senior colleagues who complained that he couldn’t get to the point in important situations were all just pompous old bastards after all—while thinking this, he felt a strange chill.

“As I said, we sisters did our very best. You said it was strange for an army to flee after losing a captain battle, but that happened quite frequently in the Age of War. Even warriors who were not from the grasslands would retreat after such a defeat, believing heaven’s fortune was not with them that day. Moreover, the dragon artifacts reacted because our recreation was excellent. We sisters perfectly reproduced the power within those treasures in the spirit world.”

“No, that’s not what I want to hear—”

“Then.”

This time, the witches did not merely listen.

The voice that abruptly cut him off was ice-cold. The veil covering the face of the foremost witch stirred in the breeze. Her eyes, visible beyond the cloth, were as beautiful as jewels. Her eyes, irises, and eyelashes alone conveyed immeasurable beauty. A mere glimpse was enough to bewitch someone...

“Then what would you like to hear?”

But the planner was not mad enough to be bewitched by them. Only upon meeting those exquisitely beautiful eyes did he come to his senses. Only then did he realize his position. Professional remarks, perfectly permissible statements, logical criticism—none of that mattered. The women before him were not people who lived by reason and logic.

The most exalted women on the vast continent. Of their many epithets, one described them best.

“Do you want a heartfelt apology from us?”

“...”

“If you wish, we will bow our heads and apologize. But if we do...”

The most ‘exalted wives’ in the mortal realm.

“Our husband will be very angry.”

Every witch was a wife of the 「Father of the Sky」.

That was not a metaphor. They actually shared their hearts and bodies with a transcendent being, one of the seven chief gods. Consequently, throughout their lives, witches must never reveal their faces to other men. Never.

And in exchange—

“Would that be all right with you?”

One of the seven chief gods, the 「Father of the Sky」 treated every witch as his actual wife and loved her sincerely. With truly utmost devotion.

“Or would you perhaps demand our bodies?”

The moment one witch spoke, the planner felt an intensely powerful gaze. It bore down from above. A gaze pouring from an indescribably lofty place. Even the planner, who possessed no spiritual talent whatsoever, could feel it.

A god was watching him.

The 「Father of the Sky」. Among the nine goddesses and seven chief gods, he was one of the very few transcendent beings who ‘actively’ intervened in worldly affairs.

“... H-how could I dare?”

The planner had no desire to discover what the 「Father of the Sky」, ruler of the heavens and lightning, might do to preserve his beloved wives’ dignity.

“Then there is no problem?”

“Yes, none at all...”

Absolutely none.

“How fortunate.”

Now the planner was thinking furiously about how to explain this incident, and what plausible bullshit he could attach to the light pouring from the dragon artifacts. It would not be easy, but what choice did he have?

“W-would you care for some sweet pastries? I’ll bring them out with black tea in the blink of an eye.”

In the Iron Kingdom, being meek toward the strong and strong toward the weak was simply the norm...

* * *

Passionate cheers rang out.

Thunderous cheers that resounded throughout the city. One could almost feel the heat in those voices. At the unceasing cheers, a man walking along the outskirts of the steel city of Perma grinned.

“Ah, what a pity. Judging by those cheers, it seems to be over already.”

“If you find it so disappointing, you should have taken a carriage.”

“No matter. When else would I walk such a long way? Besides, the breeze feels wonderfully cool on a leisurely stroll. The nighttime scenery was beautiful, too.”

Perfect weather.

As if in response to his words, another breeze blew. It stirred the hair hidden beneath his hood—ash-gray hair with an air of mystery.

“Didn’t you want to watch as well? I hear the theme of the second duel, the 「War Duels」, was the War of Conquest. The War of Conquest—wasn’t that a war you fought in?”

“I did not fight in it. I merely stopped by briefly, to correct the behavior of a certain barbarian who failed to observe proper conduct.”

The man chuckled softly.

“Yes. That was great fun. Didn’t you crush that arrogant barbarian who claimed to have inherited an ancient hero’s legacy, and order him not to kill anyone aged eighteen or younger? I still remember.”

“Crush him? I was merely fortunate.”

“How amusing. I can still clearly picture that barbarian’s trembling face.”

Laughing with a breathy chuckle, the man glanced at the circular stadium from which the cheers came.

“Well, it’s a pity, but at least we won’t miss the most entertaining part.”

To his eyes, the circular stadium looked like a delightful playground.

A very delightful playground.

“The Endless Duel. Isn’t its final event the crowning glory of this delightful amusement?”

The man—the Iron Prince—had arrived in the steel city.

With his executioner in tow.

* * *

I woke from sleep, still half-dazed.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

The moment I opened my eyes, a firecracker went off.

POP!

“Congratulations! Sword Demon Liam. Everyone has chosen you as the star of these War Duels, and you have been granted the right to take a dragon artifact! Glory must always go to the fighter who fought most bravely! Now, hurry and choose! This opportunity will never come again!”

Hmm.

“Come on, come on!”

“Hurry! Hurry!”

... I’d only just woken up. What was all this fuss?