V4: Chapter 7:

…

Game: "Oh, you're having fun? Think fast, chucklefuck." 'Throws diseased kids at you.'

Then, the game proceeds to throw the 'diseased children' event your way, so if you don't have the Staff of Cleanse or a support character with disease cure, you get to enjoy a whole army stack being diseased… if you don't slaughter kids. If you do, you'll get half morale for three battles, which means you may as well go home, cause you're not winning any fights with half morale.

Anyway, the event's a real kick in the balls for people going the pillage, ravage, and destroy the enemy route. In-game, it can only spawn if you've razed most of the enemy villages and settlements, and things were looking real dire for the enemy to the point they're willing to use kids as disease carriers. Honestly, it's one of the worst events you can trip over if you don't have the right Artifact or the right Champion. And, even if you do have the right stuff and the right person, you only get a permanent smidge of Influence to your name for the dead.

Like 5 permanent Influence every turn for the whole game.

In twenty turns (5 years), I get to recruit a t1 Unit for free, whoop-de-doo.

Whatever, it's a curveball event to fuck over speedrunners who use unethical tactics to roll over the game.

I'll exploit the reward and turn the story against the Scholars, keep my troops marching forward, and get what I needed to do done.

As horrific as everything we're doing as, as terrible it is to go and kill so many people, and force people to take children and use them as vectors of disease… the real shitshow is looming a few years in the horizon.

I couldn't back down, we needed this win, and I needed that Third Citadel and more for a chance to win.

In short, even though my actions are leading to horrific acts like this, I needed to keep moving forward.

Sunk cost fallacy?

Yeah, no.

If this doesn't work out, everyone on the continent dies in one of several horrific ways.

I'm taking the easy way out that doesn't involve me getting, at minimum, turned into a living piece of furniture with the inability to go crazy or get used to the pain of being living furniture.

Yeah.

I'm going to keep going, despite how far I'm going to push everyone else to try and beat me.

Losing ain't an option.

…

We started encountering organized resistance once the Citadel of the Scholars of the Skies were in view.

In the shadow of the massive Citadel, the first real battles of the war began.

And, naturally, the Scholars of the Skies were found wanting on the open field.

"They fight like cowards whether on the field of battle or outside it." Conquest spat onto the floor. It was a thick globule that was scarlet in color. The Orc woman was covered head to toe in Goblin blood. "The field is yours, King of Wisdom."

Ilych came forward just after Conquest and threw something on the floor.

The entire upper torso of the enemy leader.

Carried the corpse of the male Goblin around on her belt like it was a plush toy.

Feeling pretty cute, might go out with my new pickup plush later, uwu.

"Tried to flee. Failed."

"Thanks. I'll have someone bring it to the Undead to see what they can pry out of it." The Undead, in-game, had the ability to converse with the dead. But only the 'strong' dead, like Champion and officers, who had the strength of will and ability to persist a bit after dying. They gained Clandestine Information, which was used as a resource in the Espionage Layer for the game. Things weren't clearly separated in real life, so we could use the resource just fine in the regular overlay. "Where's Sirena?"

"Here. My wounds needed to heal." The Dark Elf arrived and looked absolutely pristine. Well, Ilych looked pristine too, but her armor cleaned itself. Not a fair comparison. The Saintess of the Wardens was immaculate after wading into battle and tearing through the enemy front. She called her spells holy and divine, but I just watched her wave her hand and turn thirty Goblin spearmen into meat paste, like a divine hammer fell from up high and smashed them. Magic or melee? Why not both? Healing, too? Why not. That's what a Champion is in this world. Someone who can do practically everything. "They are a tenacious foe, but their spirit cannot make up for their lack of righteousness."

Righteousness = sheer power, in this case.

"Then, we can continue to move." I deployed the three of them alone into the battlefield. There were only two or three hundred troops, so it was just XP fodder for Champions. Micro-management is a lot easier while actually present than in game. I just needed to say it, and it happened, and I didn't need to split army stacks, get all the Champions in one place, form an army of them, and throw them at the enemy after clicking the warnings away. Yes, game, I know I'm only sending Champions against the enemy. It's not a mistake. It's the meta. "Tell everyone that we're moving again."

The battle took less than an hour, as I expected, so the rest of the army hadn't dismounted. Soldiers had taken the time to nap, to sit, or to get some snacks in, but beyond that we hadn't paused for long. That raiding force was probably meant to buy a day or so of time, but three wrecking-balls to the face that didn't need to wait to line up into formation was hard to counter.

In other words, if they wanted to slow me down, they needed to come up to me with an army of their own.

Which, of course, they wouldn't do unless they had more advantages at their disposal.

"Tell the troops down the line to double the patrols on our flanks. This may have been a distraction. Ilych, Conquest, and Sirena, I need the three of you spaced out along the army. If an enemy force tries to take our flanks, you hit them hard until a force can be mustered by the segment of the army you're with." I couldn't ignore 'real' tactics, even if it wasn't possible in the game. The Scholars had enough time and production with their Citadel to produce an army or two while we approached. If they conscripted their civilian population, they'll be able to get three. I mean, they'll guarantee that they'll never reach endgame if they eat their own population, but they could do it to try and survive now. "I've set up a quick-reaction-force with each section of the marching army. Consider yourselves temporarily appointed to them."

"I see. It shall be done. The Conquerors will earn their prize." Conquest agreed readily.

"The Wardens shall not fail you, King of Wisdom." Sirena did so as well.

Ilych's silence on the matter told me she didn't.

"You'll be a few rows behind me. If there's any danger, you can leap on over." I knew her well enough to grasp what she was thinking without her saying a word. The armored titan of a Champion was an enigma most of the time, but in a few cases it was easy enough to figure her out. "I'm plenty protect her, you know?"

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

That was enough to mollify her and she nodded, before leaving just as Sirena and Conquest did.

Once they were gone, Ayah approached and spoke to me, disguised in full plate as always.

"They are probing us for weakness."

"I know." The war host began to move and I got up from my chair, which was fetched and taken to the nearest carriage along with the table and map I'd been looking at. The small spot of shade given to me by a raised tarp was taken down, too. I took the reins of my horse and got atop him. Atrax, hopefully, wasn't going to meet the same terrible fate as the horse I took his name from. "But they're wasting their time and their men. They should just surrender, really."

"Overconfidence can lead to your death, Jack." Ayah opined seriously.

"It can. But this isn't confidence." I looked over my shoulder as she got onto a horse herself. Behind us the war host stretched into the distance. Long segmented snake of an army which had patrols above and its back. The supply train of the army was defended rigorously and every few days we set up an outpost on the ruins of a village for our aerial force to use… and for backline troops to use as a base to hunt down enemies in the rear. "This is just a fact. The Scholars don't have anything that can stop this. They simply don't have the time."

The cold, brutal truth of logistics was plain and apparent.

The Scholars faced four nations with Citadels, while their lands were burned, razed, and only their Citadel remained. The resource disparity, in terms of production and manpower and logistical capacity couldn't be denied.

Still, Ayah had a point.

It paid to be cautious.

"Still, you're right. We should be careful." I took a measured breath and nodded before giving the next command. "Get Ilych back here. Instead of security, we'll have her on the front where she belongs."

Time for a good, old tactic.

Force a dilemma down the enemy's throat, so they're too busy to fuck with me.

Think fast, Scholars.

Are you going to try and do something against my army, or are you going to do something about the murder-blender I'm sending your way?

…

Interlude: Rita

…

"You should be protecting our king."

"I would, if he didn't order me to look after you." I spoke and leapt from the tree top. My cloak flared before I reached the ground and my landing upon slickened soil was quiet. "You're encountering more opponents than expected."

"They have decided to try and kill me, instead of the main army." Ilych stated the matter simply, as though speaking of the weather. She had her blade hefted on her shoulder. Before her and around her were fifty bodies. These weren't Scholars, but those of various races. Mercenaries. Well armed and armored too. Plate over chain mail. Armor darkened. Weapons dripping with poison. None came close to using them. There was one of the Merchant Tribes with the blood of a bear, nearly twice Ilych's height and nearly thrice as wide, and covered in more armor than a horse for a knight. His upper half was ten meters away from his lower half and his massive maul gripped tightly in his hand. "This is good."

The plan had been simple.

Send forth Ilych to raid and pillage on her own. An army of one, which would cause untold damage and harm, while the rest of the host lumbered forward. If she was ignored, then she would wreak havoc and kill. If she was not, then she would kill, while the host would march unimpeded. Over the course of two days and nights, Ilych sallied forth and found none that could match her. Once, Rita had to accompany her, as she did against the Guardians of the Moon.

Now, Ilych did it on her own.

"Supplies?"

"Right here." I handed over the bag of supplies that I carried for her. It was as large as my torso and contained only the essentials for Ilych. It was unfurled in the middle of the blood-soaked battlefield. Munitions, rations, and water. All that Ilych would need to continue her fight. It seemed to not be enough. "Let me help."

Ilych nodded and handed her the 'revolver.'

The large weapon's cylinder opened, and I cleaned it and filled it with powder and shot, before carefully adding the 'primer' caps to the end which the hammer would strike. Those were still highly experimental. These were the newest iteration, but they still needed improvement, according to our King. Nonetheless, the practicality of the weapon was apparent. With one blast, armor became meaningless and there were many large soldiers and mercenaries around who were felled by the weapon. Holes the size of fists were punched through their armor and out their back.

This sight was familiar to me now.

"How goes the march?" Ilych removed her helmet. Some would expect the face of a monster beneath its snarling visage. Instead, there was a mane of raven-black hair, a sharp set of features, and glittering emerald eyes. Between handsome and beautiful, she had no ferocity in her visage, and she took in the battlefield with eyes bereft of any loathing or hate. There was only the look of a job well done. She consumed the water and rations provided to her with one gauntleted hand, uncaring of the scent of blood and corpses around us. "How many days lie ahead?"

I was about to answer when Ilych suddenly spear tackled me, with her free hand redonning her helmet.

A second later, a tree behind us burst apart, then we heard the crack of a gunshot.

I took in the trajectory of the strike, took in the crack of the bullet, and traced the treeline in the distance. My eyes went across the forest. Not on the ground, the bullet raced downward. The noise had bounced off the ground, too. The bullet reached us and we heard the crack three heartbeats apart. A kilometer away. The wind was blowing in an easterly direction, and the birds in one section of treeline are higher than all the others.

There.

A Child of the Elm, hefting a rifle as long as she was tall, was now readying herself to leap from tree to tree.

Too late.

I took my bow, got my arrow, and loosed it at her as Ilych's tackle took us to safety.

The moment she let me go, my arrow speared the head of my former kin.

"Dead?"

"Dead." I confirmed but kept my eyes on the tree line. No further shots came. The moment I spoke. Ilych leaned against a tree and pushed up her helm to continue eating. "I'll keep watch."

"Thank you."

The words were concise and simple, but they were enough, and I leapt upward and reached the nearest branch with bow readied as I strained my eyes and senses.

Ilych ate below me, just a few paces away from the last battle she made, and a chilling thought occurred to me.

I gazed at the tree that the bullet had struck and my fears were confirmed.

The tree was sagging, sloughing, and crushing itself under its own weight.

That bullet had not been enough to kill Ilych, but the payload would've had a chance.

The Scholars were producing diseases and having children try to ferry them into our army.

Would they not also have the means to create poisoned weapons of great potency for their army?