Before him stood a bunny girl, her ears perched playfully atop her head, a vibrant contrast to the genuine twinkle in her eyes.

"Ah no, no my lord! I was the one who wasn't looking. Please don't apologize!" The bunny girl exclaimed, slightly flustered.

Sporting ember eyes, bunny ears, and a mage's robe, she looks absolutely adorable!

"Um, excuse me, but could I know your name?" Blackroy inquired, feeling the need to break the silence that had settled between them after their accidental bump and the following subsequent apologies.

But it had the exact opposite reaction, the bunny girl appeared hesitant and slightly apprehensive, as if anticipating that Blackroy might scold her or possibly complain about the encounter to someone else.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my lord! Please, I beg you, don't let my family suffer because of my foolish mistake. I'm pleading with you, my lord, please have mercy!" Her voice trembled with a mix of remorse and desperation.

Ugh, I can't believe I forgot – the previous owner of this body was an absolute piece of trash, of course she's going to be afraid !

"Aggh, nevermind. It's fine, you can go," Blackroy said dismissively, a tinge of annoyance coloring his tone. He couldn't help but feel frustrated by the way people consistently averted their eyes whenever they crossed his path.

She quickly bowed and hastily turned to make her way out of his path. After a few hurried steps, something seemed to shift within her. She paused, a change of emotion evident on her face, and then turned back towards him. With a genuine and sincere expression, she spoke, "As you face the battle ahead, may your steps be marked with courage, and your endeavors be crowned with hope." Her words carried a surprising depth of meaning, and for a moment, the weight of his annoyance seemed to lift.

I am in dire need of courage, but hope? There's no place for hope here, cute bunny girl with no name.

Finally alone in his royal tent, exhaustion took over, and Blackroy fell asleep within minutes. Part of him held onto a glimmer of hope that when he woke up, his laptop would be beside him, and all of this would just simply be a hazy dream.

However, reality was no obedient servant of his; it quickly shattered that hope. As he awakened, the bizarre world still held him captive. He sighed and refreshed himself of yesterday's things & thoughts, savoring the remnants of his royal breakfast. Just as Blackroy thought he might find a moment of solitude, Clendenstine burst in unannounced. Wordlessly, he positioned himself behind him, seamlessly settling into his role as his ever-watchful guardian. After a while, a soldier respectfully sought permission to enter, a message clutched tightly in his hand. The message bore urgent tidings, summoning the war council to convene once more.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A scout had returned bearing dire news: the enemy army was advancing swiftly, and they would likely come into view by nightfall. Amidst the hushed deliberations, the council room became a hub of focused energy as Eric Stormheart, with his battle-hardened aura, opened the discussion. "Our advantage lies in the terrain," he began, his voice steady and resolute. "We'll position our forces along the high ridges to the east, leveraging the vantage point to spot and gauge the enemy's movements."

Warden Lysandra Emberclaw, her piercing gaze reflecting years of wisdom, chimed in, "Indeed, and we shall arrange the archers in the forested area nearby. Their arrows will rain down upon the enemy, thinning their ranks before they even reach our front lines."

The old prime minister, nodded in agreement. "Our cavalry, led by our fastest and most agile riders, shall be stationed behind the hills to the west. Once the enemy advances further, they will launch a flanking attack, hitting the enemy's rear with precision and speed."

Obsidian, the charismatic leader of the adventurer's guild, added, "We'll deploy squads of stealthy rogues to infiltrate their supply lines under the cover of darkness. By disrupting their logistics, we can create confusion and undermine their morale."

Despite my persuasive efforts the previous day, the council held firm in their decision to utilize a specific high ground area, with the intention of delivering a substantial opening blow to the enemy noble's army. The seasoned veterans among them elaborated on the plan, dividing our forces into four agile and coordinated units, each with a unique role to play in the unfolding strategy.

The first unit, commanded by Warden Lysandra and her skilled archers totaling 800, would initiate a preemptive strike from the cover of the dense woods. However, before the arrows would fly, the two of our six mages—gifted in water and earth manipulation—would transform the uphill terrain into a quagmire, rendering the enemy's advance laborious and slow.

The second phase would see the battle-hardened Eric Stormheart, the magic knight, and his cavalry, supplemented by foot soldiers totaling 1700, with a one light and one wind mage, charging upon the half-beaten and weary enemy who managed to ascend the slope. This would serve as our most formidable and powerful force, capitalizing on the enemy's weakened state.

In the third strategic maneuver, Obsidian and his band of versatile soldiers, along with some courageous civilians, totaling 900, would circumvent the battlefield and seek to disrupt the enemy's supply lines, striking at the very heart of their logistical support.

The fourth and final unit, comprising the remaining 600, would be held in reserve, ready to plunge into the fray should any of the other units become overwhelmed. In a calculated last resort, our last two mages—skilled in fire and water manipulation—would conjure a dense smokescreen, granting these forces a chance to disengage and retreat deep into the forest, regrouping to fight another day. This strategic fallback would be repeated as long as we could reorganize, creating a grim choice between the possibility of a decisive defeat today or a relentless struggle that might extend over the course of a month.

Now, the pivotal question emerged: who would take the helm of the last group? Among our most formidable fighters, the indomitable Clendestine Silverroar stood as the prime contender. His leadership could potentially decide whether three thousand warriors would endure or a mere five hundred would remain when the day drew to a close. Yet, an unwavering bond kept him steadfastly by my side, rendering him unavailable for this critical role. Against my own desires, the mantle of leadership for the fourth unit—the unit that held an unforeseen significance—was thrust upon me.

Fuck, all I wanted was to escape. As everyone began moving to their assigned positions, I had the chance to go, but now... I don't know what to do !!