Tartarus looks down on us for looking down on them. The Angels of Paradeisius, at the very least, have some sort of morality to claim to. As farcical as their stagnant utopianism is, we can pretend to be infatuated by the fact that they are a group of races that have managed to remove all opposing thoughts from their mindset and society. Tartarus though exists as purely a failed state.

The demons reproduce in litters, and these litters can be up to a dozen large. They are apex predators of their world, much as humans are on Arda. They have managed to form strict society and civilization, that is undeniable, and then they approach us and ask us to be impressed that they have managed to somehow achieve the very basics that any sort of animal with basic social instinct is capable of achieving. They have hierarchy? They have invented the concept of storing societal labour in money? They can write and read? If that planet were an individual, it would beg to impressed for the fact that it wakes up in the morning or that it knows how to breathe.

On Arda, we would have long fixed this problem. Whether it be through strict population control or culling or eugenics, this overpopulating trait would have been eliminated for the long-term good of the world at large. To try and understand their mentality is an exercise that is merely fatiguing. It is not complicated, nor advanced. The fact they pretend their society should be looked upon with awe is more a case of their own arrogance and stupidity, for there are none on Arda who would attempt to do what they have done.

They have managed to apply the economic phenomenon of hyperinflation onto their own biology, and then they lecture us that we do not treat their individual lives or problems as precious.

– Excerpt from “Other World Reviews: Tartarus”, written by Goddess Maisara, of Order.

“We cannot fire! Goddess! We cannot fire!” Agrita turned away from her soldiers and looked south, towards the Ashfront. It had stalled in that valley for a full month. Olephia’s presence behind the Ashfront had been an effective dam against the demons. But Olephia was just one Goddess and she struggled to keep up with moving cars, much less entire armies. Tartarian forces would sneak past her every day, it was always much of the same, a thousand here, two thousand there, maybe five hundred somewhere else.

And Agrita would clean up what Olephia missed. The men directly under her command were the response force that made sure the unfortified, unevacuated cities to the north would not become slaughters. “Give me a test.” The Goddess of Rilia peeled away from the demonic army, this was obviously some sort of elite cohort she had never seen before. Their banners were white for one, their armour gleamed. They had cavalry and greater demons about too. And they had a leader at the very front.

That was unique, normally these sorts of demons would march as rabble. As a great conglomeration of bodies that raced across the countryside on their way to plunder. Agrita had to forcefully tear her gaze away and to her tanned men. The southern Rilian sun was hot even as the world was slowly plunging into winter. They were shorts and shirts, many with tattoos bearing Agrita’s emblem of a golden eagle. There was no need to fortify, the tanks and support vehicles and artillery would shred the demons apart as they had done so for as many other groups.

Agrita trotted over to the near man with a weapon her oversized frame could actually handle. A man with a rocket launcher, his partner next to him with another rocket in his arms ready to fire. “Give me that.” Agrita commanded. She took the rocket launcher into her arm, holding it like a rifle and aimed it at the central figure. A demon notably larger than the legionnaires marching behind him. His gaze was pointed forwards, straight at the Imperial soldiers that Agrita was leading. A crown of pale, bone-white horns made a crown around his head, almost as if he was some sort of stag.

The Goddess of Rilia tightened her finger around the trigger, or tried to. It felt like her body was simply shutting down. She poured her whole will into pulling that trigger, she felt the muscle in her arm strain, her finger quiver, her knuckle turn white. And she released her breath.

Kassandora had warned of this.

That demon had a classification all to itself: Do Not Bother Engaging.

Pax.

Pax has breached the Ashfront. Cancel Malam’s Rerouting of Fer, Kavaa & Maisara. Fortia shall be here within the day. Prepare for Operation Unkillable.

– Surface War Orders, written by Goddess Kassandora, of War.

General Ekkerson looked over the maps as artillery shook the world around him once again. The fractures left behind by the Antworks in the mountains did well to assist in the carrying of vibrations. He could listen to the music of the queen of the battlefield all day long as she played her drums. More reinforcements was coming in from the mobilizing Kirinyaa, volunteers were pouring in even from the Arikan nations too. Not so much to fight for the Empire, but to pay back some sort of debt they thought they had from the slaying of the Jungle.

Ekkerson did not care for the reasoning, more bodies were always appreciated. Factories that had started construction during the Reclamation were finally coming online. They produced tanks and artillery and the lifeblood of the military: ammunition.

And ammunition would be needed. Kirinyaan-made Star Missiles did not need to be nuclear to stop the massive hordes of magicians who were melting through the Kirinyaan Mountains, Ekkerson would not want them to be either. The localized power of the Stars was more than enough to halt a melting formation and his men operated on the surface as much as they did underground.

The ground shook once again as artillery on the surface shook the underground bunker. Lamps on wires wobbled from side to side, one of the captains reached up to steady the central one across the cheap wooden table that hosted a map of eastern Arika. Khmet had collapsed, demons walked into their cities, that nation was still operating under the roles of yesteryear, of Pantheon Peace. There hadn’t been an army there to stop them.

Khmet had collapsed and now, the strategy of holding the Central Mountains was under threat. This great barrier ran up and down Kirinyaa, but it did not reach the coast. Kassandora had sent divinity to the east to stall Maisara’s forces during the White Pantheon Peacekeeping Operation. “What are we doing about this situation General?” One of the captains broke the terrible silence.

They had no Divines.

They had no airforce.

They didn’t have the industry of Epa.

Soon, they would be holding a front on open ground. If Epa was barely holding on, then what was he expected to do here? “I do not know.”

Khmet has been seized. Kirinyaa stands under threat. Divinity is required. Re-route Neneria’s ship back to Kirinyaa and prepare to hold the coastal cities.

– Surface War Orders, written by Goddess Kassandora, of War.

When the Empire had told Helenna that she would receive an office, she had expected… Well… an office. It was in the name, was it not? The Imperial Bureau

of Intelligence should be situated in a bureau, should it not? Instead, she received a city block on loan and a construction site that had already been chosen for her. Well, it was something at least. At least Arascus had given her the wanted country of Ghellia, as it was known in Allian. Locally, it was either Ghelgie, Ghelgique or Ghelgien, depending on which part of the country one was in. Although that was precisely why Helenna had chosen this land, if the people here spoke three different languages already, they should be able to learn the other Imperial ones easily. She hoped so at least.

Nevertheless, it did not matter for now. What mattered was the fact that Arascus was going to officialize her IBI and that she was already letting succubi slip through the cracks. In Doschia, a warehouse had been set alight. In Lubska, a train station near a large factory. The latter had actually been caught by CCTV cameras, those had played a video of a demoness throwing fire from a distance. These reports would be more common, it was obvious. Imperial infrastructure was being targeted, worst of all, it was being hit.

Helenna sat down with a sigh in her temporary office. The floor here smelled of abandonment, the desk was shoddy, although it was just a temporary measure. Her eyes went to the list of names: Godfriend, Roderick… and they glazed over.

At this point, she just needed numbers, the first wave could be inept, it just had to secure the field for the IBI proper.

The Imperial Bureau of Intelligence (IBI) is formally declared as an entity of the Empire. The Special Imperial Service shall be temporarily placed beholden to the IBI to stem the Succubi infiltration crisis.

– IBI Creation Declaration, as spoken by God Arascus, of Pride.

Irinika raised her hands in the air as she hovered in the air above an Imperial forward base. The troops here had requested Divine assistance, they were under attack and they weren’t firing back. The Goddess of Darkness did not care, nor would she scold them for it frankly. It was admirable even, it was glorious, to think that they know that there was no point in fighting for their lives when she was here to save them anyway.

Irinika looked down upon the demons lit up by Imperial spotlights and their own flames. The lightless Esberia under Ashen skies was faintly illuminated by friendly lights, cliffs and hilltops had a faint outline of pale light where they caught the glares, and the sky above was a horrid mixture of grey and black and every shade in between. Below, demons threw themselves onto the barb wired of the forward base, and raced into trenches from which men in dark uniforms utterly smattered by ashen kisses raced away.

The Goddess of Darkness snapped her fingers as she posed.

The world went black.

And her shadows got to work as she reached for a pipe. The supply situation was getting bad if she had to start rationing her tobacco reserves. Ana would need be to sent back to base to pick some up for her. Or maybe some could be requisitioned from the soldiers. She pulled out the silver lighter, her name engraved onto it, that Arascus had given her and lit up the pipe.

For a moment, the only light that the total, pitch-black darkness allowed was the soft, warm burn of her pipe. Irinika took a deep breath, her power retreated in tandem to the smoke being expelled. Below, there was nothing left of the demons, they had been torn to shreds by her shadow. Whether it was body or blade, armour or arm, head or helmet, it did not matter. All of it had been ripped apart like paper which painted the dark ash with a layer of fresh crimson. Irinika stared down, then saw the captain.

One thing Divinity always needed to do was bask in praise. That much was certain. Any Divine who did not was simply denying themselves of one of life’s greatest joys. She floated down to the local commander, a captain from the insignia on his shoulders and spread her arms out. The man was all manner of relieved and disbelieving, although that was the usual reaction of humans who had been caught in the blast radius of her shadow’s lightlessness. “Do not worry subjects of the Empire! I have come to save you!” Irinika declared to the captain.

“Thank you Goddess!” He dropped to his knee as he spoke. One knee wasn’t enough for her, but it would do. The man had just been in a battle after all, he wasn’t thinking straight. “We ran out of ammunition, you saved us.”

Oh.

That’s why they hadn’t been shooting.

The holding of Esberia, under the conditions we face now, has become wholly unviable. Troops are running out of ammunition after Tartarus has begun to raid our supply lines. Artillery barrages are being expended upon meaningless amounts of troops. I understand that Goddesses Irinika and Anassa are under my command, but they are only two individuals and the front is endless. We are not retreating, we are being pushed back.

– General Menith’s Letter to the Central Strategy Council.

“Fire at will and keep on firing.” Admiral Callaghan gave the order as he always did. The heavy cruisers and battleships of the Eastern Eparika fleet were once again making another raiding run against the Rilian landbridge. They were the first filter, Olephia was the second, the military underneath Ashen skies the third, Agrita the fourth. The system was working so far, the populated cities in Rilia had not been touched by a demon once yet. Five floating fortresses, hidden in darkness, the mages even disabled the FSS shielding that allowed the vessels to pass through the Ashfront. Hidden in the darkness, they were invisible giants. Even the sounds of turbines straining as they pushed the vessels through the thick sludge which floated on top of the sea was drowned out by the thunderous march of millions of boots in the distance.

The twelve massive guns of the Kassandora fired one after another. That was standard procedure, Callaghan would not risk flipping the ship through sheer recoil. Behind the Kassandora, the Zawitz, the Kaczaw, the Aris and the Hallin joined the drumming orchestra. More than fifty shells arced underneath the darkness of Ashen Skies, towards the flames that were always upon the Rilian landbridge.

And as had happened before, so happened now. Explosions raced through the landbridge, up and down, left to right, from horizon to horizon as the five ships kept on firing into that mass of demons. Fire went up, standard anti-artillery tactics. Some of the shells were cooked in the air or melted down into pure slag. Those fell into the ash-covered ocean without even a splash as the ships kept their distance. Snakes of flame roared into the air. Callaghan just watched, it was the same as always, the first volley would always be the most powerful, and the later volleys, once the demons would know they were under attack, they would mount a counter attack.

The fleet admiral gave the order. “Turn on lights and prepare to retreat.” He said. “Keep distance, Kassandora leads, don’t crash into each other.” The crews weren’t sloppy, but there had been close calls already. More than a few, the Aris had scraped the Hallin at once point although thankfully, magicians had pushed the ships apart before any damage could be done.

The five fortresses suddenly lit up, their massive arrays of spotlights illuminating the sludge around them and the black skies above. And immediately, Callaghan saw the mistake when fires began to spark on the Landbridge. Not the magic of contained flames but the same style of explosions and smoke that came from explosions. Fire.

Fire that was coming back at them.

Something shot over the deck off the Kassandora. A flaming ball that flew far and then splashed into the ground. Another exploded against the ships side. A third slammed into the Zawitz. The ships turret was ripped from its mounts as more balls of flame came upon them. The switch of panic flicked in Callaghan’s mind; fuck the procedure. “ALL SHIPS! TURN STARBOARD NOW! FSS SHIELDING ON! PUT DISTANCE BETWEEN US AND THE LANDBRIDGE” He shouted into the radio to the other captains. “TURN STARBOARD! ZAWITZ HAS BEEN HIT! ZAWITZ HAS BEEN HIT!” He looked through the glass again. More fireballs.

It has been known that Tartarus exhibits some advances in technology. We have taken it for granted that they were all prototypes. All commanders should be aware that counter-artillery, albeit so far seemingly only capable of direct fire, has been spotted and sunk the Imperial Battleship Zawitz.

– General Update from the Central Strategic Council, written by Grand Marshal Iliyal Tremali.

Captain Deferre clicked the flight controls on his cockpit once again. The loss of the 1^st Strategic Missile Squadron had called upon the SkyCourt to sort the situation out. Once again, bombers were being loaded with atomic bombs as the Empire scrambled to build new launch silos for nuclear missiles. Deferre looked over at his co-pilot as the man was strapping on his helmet and readjust the strap, then went to the microphone. “Mother Hen, Mother Hen, this is Sky King reporting, are you ready on atmo-breach? Over.” The same method would have to be used as when Arseille was being bombed. Mages would have to craft a tunnel of fresh air to push the tiny particles of ash out of the atmosphere and allow the SkyCourt to fly over the atmosphere.

“Mages are coming over, sit tight and steady SkyKing. Over.” Mother replied. Deferre’s co-pilot chuckled as he began to check his side of the cockpit. More than a hundred different switches and gauges were throughout the aeroplane, all of them were green or within safe levels though. There wouldn’t be an issue with Imperial engineering, it was more a question of whether they would be able to hit a moving target.

An Archdemon in Esberia, travelling to Rancais.

Deferre just hoped it wasn’t fast.

Being within the Empire, it is definitely a different atmosphere compared to the being in the White Pantheon. I suppose the largest difference is that of mentality. Here, everyone is a cornered rat. The mood is not anything that can be compared to the White Pantheon in the Great War.

Rather, it is closer to that of a throne-room during Worldbreaking.

– Excerpt from “Spectator to the Surface War”, written by Goddess Fortia, of Peace.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep