Across Many Kingdoms in Talvaris
Murican Foreign Office worked tirelessly, delivering the recordings to every kingdom willing—or unwilling—to receive them.
Royal courts. Noble estates. War councils. Military headquarters.
Everywhere the projection crystals flickered to life.
They watched.
The horrors of DMZ Village unfolded not as ink on parchment, but as moving images no one could dismiss as exaggeration.
Rape.
Pillage.
Murder.
Not summarized in tidy reports. Not softened by political phrasing.
Seen.
In vivid, undeniable detail.
In some courts, nobles turned their faces away.
In others, attendants rushed forward with basins as dignitaries vomited.
Generals clenched their fists.
Queens covered their mouths.
Councils trembled—not from fear, but from anger.
Then came the next scene.
A female Murican soldier collapsed beside the body of a dead human child, sobbing as she clutched the small corpse in her arms. (Belphy had insisted on replacing this scene with professional actors.)
The soldier's shoulders shook. Her voice broke. Her grief sounded raw.
Across Talvaris, many viewers discreetly sniffed.
Some wiped their eyes when they believed no one was looking.
Then Ivy appeared.
A lone human girl, bloodied, terrified, fighting desperately to survive.
In throne rooms and council chambers alike, whispers began.
Praying for her safety.
And when the Muricans arrived—
When gunfire cut through the raiders—
When soldiers shielded her with their bodies—
Many watching the projection actually cheered.
When the human girl—Ivy Elara—was finally shown safe under Murican medical care, the cheering faded into silence.
Her face was pale. Her voice trembled.
"My family were simple farmers… We fled Vandoria's oppression. The demons welcomed us… fed us… sheltered us… Those months were the happiest we'd ever had."
Her lips quivered.
"Until the Vandorians came. They killed my parents… They almost killed me… Sniff… if not for the Muricans… HUAAA—"
Her breakdown—while an actor nurse gently pulled her into an embrace—hit every audience like a physical blow.
No one spoke.
No one dismissed it as propaganda.
It was effective.
---
Divine Empire of Celeste, Celestial Palace
Even the royalty of Celeste watched the recording.
Nobles dabbed delicately at their eyes with silk handkerchiefs. Queen Catherine made no attempt to hide her tears. King Gregory turned slightly, pretending to adjust his crown as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
The hall remained silent as the images continued.
Then Duke Pierre appeared on the projection.
His voice rang out, arrogant and unrestrained.
"SUBMIT, OR MY ARMY WILL SWEEP YOUR BORDER! AND MARK MY WORDS—WE WILL BE MORE TERRIFYING THAN ANY DEMON COULD EVER DREAM OF BEING!"
The reaction was immediate.
The atmosphere in the palace stiffened as if the air itself had curdled.
Gasps rippled through the hall. Celeste nobles whispered sharply to one another, outrage barely restrained.
When the projection reached its end, Solo's figure filled the crystal once more.
"My fellow leaders, as you can see… this tragedy was not started by us. We only want peace and harmony…"
His voice remained steady.
"But somehow, the Vandorians saw that as weakness, and tried to take advantage of it—to invade and enslave us. We fought their invasion and repelled them. Without this video technology, we might not have been able to prove our innocence."
He paused.
"Now, I hope you can understand us a little better, and be willing to hear more… by opening a diplomatic channel with us. Thank you."
The projection faded.
The crystal dimmed.
Debate erupted across the chamber.
Voices overlapped. Arguments sparked. Confusion lingered.
But amid all the uncertainty, one conclusion formed with remarkable speed and unity.
The Vandorians were complete assholes.
Nearby, the summoned hero, Nobuyuki Sora, stood quietly beside the saintess, Isabel.
Isabel was visibly shaken—hands clasped, breathing shallow—just like everyone else who had watched the Murican video. Knights, nobles, court officials… none of them had been prepared for that.
But Sora's expression was different.
Tight.
Rigid.
The kind of stillness that came from panic being forced into a very small box.
What is happening…?
Why are demons using Earth technology?
No—worse—
Why are the demons not being the bad guy here?
His chest tightened.
If this keeps going… will I still be needed as a hero?
Will I become unnecessary?
Useless?
…Fuck.
Before the spiral could dig any deeper—
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
"SILENCE! SILENCE!"
Cardinal Corvus slammed his staff against the marble floor. The sharp echo cut through the hall like a blade.
The murmurs died instantly.
No one dared to test the patience of the man whose authority often eclipsed even the emperor's.
Corvus stood tall in white-and-blue robes that gleamed beneath the torchlight, immaculate and severe. Behind him, rows of Holy Knights stood in perfect formation—motionless, silent, statues carved from faith and steel.
"I understand," Corvus began calmly, voice resonating through the chamber, "that this… 'visual record' is unprecedented."
He paused, letting the word linger.
"But do not forget—this was presented to us by demons themselves." His gaze swept across the court. "Do not be swayed so easily by their lies."
A court official hesitated, then cautiously raised his voice.
"B-But, Cardinal… our spies did report events similar to what the video showed. The details… they match."
A ripple of uneasy murmuring washed through the hall.
THUMP.
"SILENCE!" Corvus roared.
The echo rang even louder this time.
"Yes," he continued sharply, "there may be some truth mixed in. That is precisely what makes a lie powerful."
His eyes burned with certainty.
"The demons—spawn of deception—know this well."
He turned toward the throne.
"I trust His Majesty shares my concern."
The emperor swallowed, fingers gripping the armrests.
"Y-Yes… yes, of course," he said quickly. "We must not simply trust the demons."
Corvus nodded, satisfied.
Then he turned.
His gaze locked onto Sora.
"And what is your opinion, O otherworlder hero?"
Sora stiffened. The sudden attention snapped him out of his thoughts. His heart pounded—but beneath the anxiety was something else.
Relief.
Someone was finally saying what should be said.
"I don't know much about demons in this world," Sora said, voice steady, "but where I come from, demons twist the truth to serve their evil desires."
Corvus's lips curved into a thin smile.
"And so our hero has spoken."
He glanced back toward the throne.
"And our king agrees."
He turned back to the court.
"That is enough."
With a snap of his fingers, a Holy Knight stepped forward. Without hesitation, the knight lifted the iPod from its pedestal and turned to leave—without waiting for approval from court officials, advisors, or even the emperor himself.
"I will bring this demonic tool to the basilica for containment," Corvus declared. "We do not yet know what corruptive effects it may have."
He began to walk away, then stopped just in front of Sora.
"And hero," Corvus said quietly, eyes sharp, "remember this."
He straightened.
"Grow your strength, quickly."
His voice then lowered.
"The demons have now tasted human blood… They will crave more."
---
Vandoria Capital, City of Vans
"Eewwww. They drink the blood and eat the flesh raw? That's disgusting. Bleekh."
"I know, right? This is exactly why I would never date any of those grunts."
Two succubi lay prone inside the bell tower of a church overlooking the city square.
Megan—short hair, binoculars pressed to her eyes—slowly scanned the streets below. Janet—long hair, cheek pressed against the stock of an MK22 sniper rifle—kept her scope trained on the gallows.
The capital of Vandoria spread beneath them like a lavish imitation of a 19th-century Paris: ornate stone buildings, extravagant balconies, and aristocrats dressed in layers of finery and entirely too much lipstick.
Today, however, the city square was packed.
A sea of citizens crowded around freshly constructed gallows and guillotines, their excitement buzzing through the air.
"My friend says the CDC is losing its mind," Megan said, stifling a yawn. "He's been working overtime for weeks because of that outbreak."
She lowered her binoculars slightly.
"Ugh. I miss home. I can't wait until this assignment is over."
"Don't worry," Janet replied calmly, adjusting her scope. "After today, we're going back. No more guys who wear more makeup than we do."
Megan suddenly stiffened.
"Oh—Janet! There they are!"
Across from the gallows, a raised scaffold had been built for the royal family. King Alphonse and Queen Colette took their seats, followed by Crown Prince Beau and Duke Louis, leader of the noble faction.
The king frowned, scanning the area.
"Where are Prince Adrien and Prince Alan?"
The butler bowed deeply, sweat visible on his brow.
"I'm terribly sorry, Your Majesty. The second prince and the third prince have still not arrived."
"Tch," the crown prince muttered. "They probably partied too hard again last night."
Once the royalty were seated, the announcer stepped forward.
Behind him, the condemned were led toward the gallows.
A woman.
A young man.
And a young boy.
"GOOD CITIZENS OF VANDORIA," the announcer shouted, voice magically amplified, "BY THE ORDER OF THE KING, THESE CRIMINALS ARE THE FAMILY OF DUKE PIERRE!"
The crowd leaned in.
"HE IS GUILTY OF RECKLESSLY—AND WITHOUT ROYAL PERMISSION—ABUSING HIS POWER TO ILLEGALLY ATTACK A NEIGHBORING COUNTRY!"
The announcer pointed dramatically.
"TO PLUNDER! TO AMASS WEALTH! FOR HIMSELF AND HIS FAMILY! AND TO SATISFY THEIR GREED!"
The square erupted.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOO!"