At the center of the circle, the tension grew thick enough to feel.
Soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, quiet but alert. No one spoke. No one left. Even the wounded leaned in, holding their bandages tighter just to keep watching.
Olga stood with her arms crossed, weight forward, jaw locked. There was no attempt to hide it—anger burned openly in her eyes.
Minerva stood across from her.
Still. Straight.
Too calm.
One hand rested lightly on the pommel of her sheathed sword, fingers relaxed like this was a formal talk, not an argument about a lost weapon and a hundred lives.
"May I ask," Minerva said, voice smooth and controlled, "why you are stopping me, Miss Olga?"
Olga let out a short, dry laugh.
"Seriously? The all-knowing princess doesn't know?" Her tone dropped, colder. "Did you even read the inventory report I sent you?"
Minerva tilted her head slightly. "I have reviewed it."
"Then you should know," Olga snapped, stepping forward, "that the mechanical giant that exploded back there was my last operational unit. The last one. The rest are scrap—or barely breathing metal."
A low murmur spread through the crowd.
Minerva didn't react. "Noted."
Silence fell.
Then Olga's shoulders tightened.
"Noted?" she repeated, voice rising. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"
Minerva frowned faintly. "If there is a specific fault you wish to highlight, I would appreciate clarity."
Olga's laugh came out sharper this time.
"Oh, I'll give you clarity," she shot back. "While you were flying around playing savior—boosting troops, lifting morale—I was inside that machine, holding off that oversized trod alone."
Her finger jabbed toward the battlefield.
"If you had helped me sooner, that giant would still be standing."
Minerva's eyes hardened.
"I chose to reinforce the army," she replied. "Without support, the line would have collapsed. We would have suffered significantly higher casualties."
Olga stepped closer, boots pressing deep into the mud.
"And without that machine," she said, voice tight, "we lose firepower. We lose leverage. We lose tomorrow."
Minerva didn't move.
"Machines can be rebuilt," she said evenly. "Soldiers cannot."
Olga's lips curled.
"That's a nice belief," she said. "But wars aren't won by beliefs. They're won by sacrifice."
That word lingered.
Minerva's grip on her sword shifted—just slightly.
"And I will determine," she said quietly, "how much sacrifice is necessary."
Olga snapped.
She stepped forward hard, mud splashing.
"You don't get to talk about choices," she said, voice cutting through the air, "after what you just cost us!"
Minerva didn't step back—but her posture tightened.
"I made the only decision that prevented collapse," she replied, sharper now. "Had the line broken, we would be collecting bodies instead of arguing."
Olga barked a harsh laugh.
"The greater threat?" she shot back. "That damn centipede was the greater threat!"
More soldiers leaned in. Even those at the edge shifted closer.
"That machine wasn't just metal," Olga continued. "It was our backbone. Our advantage. You threw it away for a temporary boost!"
Minerva's composure cracked—just enough to show.
"I reinforced the army so they would live," she said. "I will not trade hundreds of soldiers for a single weapon."
Olga's eyes flared.
"And we won't win this endless war by throwing away valuable assets!" she snapped. "You think this is about numbers? This is survival!"
She gestured wildly around them.
"Those soldiers you saved? They'll die tomorrow without support. Without firepower. Without that machine you let fall!"
From above, Richard blinked slowly, shifting on Bignum's shoulder.
"…Yeah," he muttered, "this is definitely getting worse."
Then—
A voice cut through the argument.
"Calm yourselves, princesses. We are allies, not adversaries."
It wasn't loud.
But it carried.
Everyone turned.
A man stood not far from Richard's position.
Tall—easily two meters. His black clothes were elegant, clean, almost out of place in a camp that smelled like blood and wet iron. His wings were folded neatly behind him, like he cared about presentation. Short horns curved from his head.
And yet—
He was round.
Not a little. A lot.
The fabric stretched across his belly like it was under quiet suffering.
The contrast was… difficult to ignore.
Richard frowned.
For a brief moment, something tugged at his memory—his old body, heavy, slow.
Then he looked down at Bignum.
"…Who is that pi—" he coughed, correcting himself quickly, "—that abomination?"
The man's head turned.
Slowly.
Directly.
Toward him.
Richard stiffened.
"…He heard that, didn't he?" he whispered.
Bignum didn't even blink. "Maybe."
"It is Incubus Mephyst," Bignum added. "Leader of the demon army."
Richard blinked.
"…Of course it is."
He looked back again, taking in the wings, the horns… and the very un-demonic waistline.
"…I really should expect the unexpected now," he muttered.
Mephyst began to walk toward them.
Unhurried.
Each step soft, controlled—but his eyes stayed locked on Richard.
That made it worse.
A small, cold panic crawled up Richard's spine.
Damn it. He heard me.
Mephyst stopped in front of Bignum.
Then looked up.
Right at Richard.
"Half-breed," he said smoothly, voice calm but edged with something unpleasant, "my ears must be failing me today. Would you kindly repeat what you said?"
Richard swallowed.
"I—"
Bignum spoke first. "He means no harm, my lord."
Mephyst didn't even glance at him.
"I was not asking you, Orc," he said. "I was asking the man sitting on you."
Richard forced a weak smile.
Sweat formed at his temple.
"…You're an abomination," he said, voice small and slightly high.
Mephyst tilted his head.
"Louder."
"…Abomination."
"Louder."
Richard inhaled.
Then shouted, "YOU'RE AN ABOMINATION."
The nearby soldiers flinched.
Even Bignum's shoulder tensed slightly under him.
Mephyst turned away.
Then—
He laughed.
Loud. Proud. Completely unbothered.
"You hear that?" he called out to the crowd, spreading his arms slightly. "I am an abomination."
He started walking, laughing as if he had just received praise.
"So remember it well. Fear me. Know my horror. Feel my terror."
He waved a hand casually.
"That is how one describes a powerful demon such as myself."
Richard stared.
"…What?"
Mephyst continued walking, clearly pleased.
"You hear that, ladies?" he added with a grin. "Even the half-breed sees my true nature."
Olga clicked her tongue.
"I've lost interest," she said flatly, already turning away. "Hard to argue seriously with that pig walking around."
She glanced back at Minerva, eyes still sharp.
"Next time, know your priorities better, Princess."
Minerva didn't react much.
"Noted," she said simply.
Olga scoffed and walked off.
The crowd slowly began to break apart, tension leaking out in awkward silence.
Richard blinked.
"…That's it?" he asked.
Bignum nodded.
"That's it."