Simmons listened to Violet with a face like granite under frost. He only lifted a hand, a quiet blade through air, sending his adjutant away to arrange things, then spoke.

“Violet, say whatever you want, but whether that one wakes still hinges on us. Without the United Army’s tech, you think digging up ancient science keeps this pace?”

Compared to his son, Simmons wore decorum like well‑pressed steel. He knew where to press on the Elders’ soft spots; without a leash on the tiger, the United Army couldn’t make Elders fight. In the end, it was coins on a scale, profit for profit.

At the word itself, Violet’s expression clouded like a storm rolling over dark water.

“You dare bring that up? Your United Army’s research crawl even qualifies as ‘research’?”

Violet wasn’t some fool kept in a paper lantern. Since their awakening, the Elders taught humanity almost without reserve, memory etched like star‑script in bone by the ancient civilization—enough to hurl human science a whole era forward. And the Elders did just that.

The result?

Core scientists thrown into cages like birds, and the gifts handed down turned into blades in the United Army’s fists. Especially Aether—parsing the world’s rules is a mountain; humans without the strength keep marching in place, yet they never drop the dream of weaponizing that mountain wind.

The revival plan itself went wandering like a lost banner. If the Elders hadn’t hit a wall, how would they swallow this mess?

Maybe the wise ones of that ancient age foresaw today’s rot. They set no shackles on the Elders; with their power, they could’ve waited for the Eldritch Gods to drown Earth like a black tide. If not for the leader’s flicker of revival, a lantern in the storm that spoke of guarding…

“We humans aren’t the Elders. We don’t have your kind of wisdom. Slow research is normal. But you—breaking the pact—aren’t you afraid we’ll shut the project down?”

“Then shut it down. From today, the Elders pull out of every battlefield. Let your species fend in the wild.”

Violet’s voice was winter steel. She dared flip the table because a hidden ace lay under her silk, and that ace stood at her side.

Reason was simple: in Aphelia, the Leader’s power had begun to thaw like spring from stone. If it were rumor, Violet wouldn’t be sure. After seeing Aphelia’s hand just now, certainty bloomed. As the vessel of the Leader, Aphelia was already beginning to become the Leader.

She took Aphelia’s hand and turned to go. From the entrance, Valkyries in Aether rigs surged in like a wave of iron. No doubt Simmons’s orders. Beyond their Aether gear, black metal cylinders rode their backs like slim coffins.

“You think these can bar our way?”

Violet’s tone carried killing frost. She hadn’t expected the new general of the American theater to be so blind, mist over his eyes in noon sun. A man like that in command—humans really did court extinction.

Simmons rose from his seat like a slow‑lifting gate and walked toward them, voice gravel on steel.

“Of course not. Everyone knows the Elders are strong—strong enough to face Daemon Beasts. But your strength, everyone knows it too. It all comes from Aether.”

“Daemon Beasts feed on Aether as well—that’s why you can fight them. When humans hold Aether on your level, what are you worth? Besides as a ticking bomb, I don’t see the point of you Elders…”

Violet cut him off like a blade through gauze.

“General Simmons, looks like you haven’t set foot on a battlefield.”

“Hmph. Violet, mouth hard at death’s door. You really think you can walk out with that little witch safe? The United Army’s Aether Dissolution Weapons are already deployed to every theater. Results will come quick. When they do, even if I kill you, HQ won’t touch me. Lucky you—you’ll watch the front lines.”

The adjutant hustled back with a tactical computer, a storm window of light. It showed the front. Without the Elders’ check, a Daemon Beast tore the defense like claws through paper. Heavy guns waited in the rear, and bombers rose like steel swans into a bruised sky.

Violet’s gaze grew more mocking, a cat’s smile in moonlight. She didn’t bother looking at the screen; she looked at Simmons the way one looks at a fool.

“To test your shiny new toy, you wreck a defense won back over years. The blood up there isn’t yours—it’s soldiers’, a red rain on stone.”

“Doesn’t matter. The new weapons will turn a Daemon Beast to ash. Then every nation will lean on our Aether arms. Daemon Beasts won’t threaten humanity. What took years, we’ll reclaim in a night.”

Simmons drew a cigar, its ember a tiny sunrise. In wartime, such luxuries were rare as snow in summer; even he hoarded them. But now he burned one, joy boiling over like spilt wine.

Aphelia sighed, wind through reeds. Truth was, she hated being dragged into this mud. She couldn’t see what capital these people had to threaten anyone. To her eyes, humans clutched potent magitech trinkets; before Aether’s tide, tin charms sink.

Above the Daemon Beast, bombers knifed across, dropping oddly shaped bombs that gleamed like iron fruit. The beast, a colossal lizard sprawling on scorched earth, only watched those fruits fall.

In the next heartbeat, its back split like a fault line, and a vast black shape vaulted skyward, swallowing bombs and bombers alike in one ink‑black gulp.

Simmons sucked air, a man hit by ice. Losing two bombers wasn’t small. Against Daemon Beasts, strategic weapons were bones counted one by one; early factories lay in ruins, gnawed by monsters.

But the sacrifice seemed worth it. The beast had swallowed Aether Dissolution bombs. Let bombs into your belly—dig your grave.

It wasn’t just Simmons. Everyone except Violet and Aphelia held a breath like glass. To them, it was history’s hinge. If Aether Disruptor weapons worked, humanity finally gripped a blade to strike back.

Air in the command room froze like winter in a jar. A minute crawled by. The Daemon Beast stopped moving, its colossus sagging like a felled tree. The room ignited; joy burst like spring flood.

Men laughed through tears. On the front, soldiers fired shells in bright arcs. After the scientists’ double‑check, the verdict came—the Daemon Beast was dead.

“Elders, oh Elders—what else do you have to say, huh?!”

Simmons whipped out his sidearm, cold moon pressed to Violet’s temple. The Valkyries snapped open their black cylinders; white mist poured out like frost snakes.

“This is anti‑Elder gear, same compound as the Aether Dissolution bombs. How’s it feel? Still proud?”

The moment the mist kissed skin, Aphelia’s face rippled with confusion, a strange tide. She caught the fox‑curve of Violet’s smile and understood. She let go of the urge to kill, and watched them like a puppet show.

“Maybe look again. Ruling too fast isn’t a general’s poise.”

Violet’s smile widened, a crescent over snow. But Simmons’s head was drunk on victory, wine that blinds. He saw her stance as a cornered beast’s snarl. If she had a card, let her show it.

Boom.

From the tactical display came a thunder that shook the tin room. Simmons sobered as if doused in cold river water.

“What happened?!”

“R‑Report, sir—the Daemon Beast… revived!”

The screen showed a battlefield turned to a red ocean. The beast, meant to sleep on charred soil, had risen raging, a storm made flesh. Human heavy weapons became toys tossed by waves.

“Impossible! No reason for this! Right—it wasn’t fully crushed. Keep firing!”

They didn’t need his shout. The front was already pounding. But the so‑called Aether Disruptor weapons now hit like ordinary shells, gouging craters like pockmarks to slow the beast’s stride, doing it no harm worth naming.

By the original plan, with Valkyries and Elders in the dance, they could leave carved wounds and drive it back. Now, to avoid friendly fire, Valkyries had pulled out. Elders were recalled by Violet. Ordinary troops stood like wheat before a scythe.

The American defense line’s doom came lapping in, a black tide against a trembling shore.