Since the Imperial Guard Corps perished alongside the Elector Palace, the Imperial Capital Defense Force now stood as the sole remaining combat unit of the Imperial Army within the capital. Yet compared to the well-equipped Guard Corps, the Defense Force was severely undermanned and underequipped. After all, their primary duty was maintaining order—not defending city walls.

Inside the command office, General Fisher knelt on one knee before Moura.

"Your subordinate Fisher stands ready to follow your orders, Marshal."

"Good," Moura nodded. "From this moment, you are mine."

A surge of power flooded Fisher’s body. He lifted his head, crimson light flickering in his aged eyes. His entire frame seemed decades younger.

"Oh! This is the War God’s blessing!" He clenched his fists. "Courage and strength fill my veins! Magnificent! Thank you, Marshal Moura!"

Moura merely offered a faint smile, patting the old general’s shoulder. He knew his "Puppet War King" blessing was no divine grace—it was War God Balder’s spiritual drug, forcing soldiers to fight unto death. The War God craved blood. More blood. That was the true nature of Moura’s blessing: a curse disguised as power. Yet for armies, it unlocked absolute combat potential—ruthless, inhuman, devastatingly effective. As Fisher submitted to Moura’s command, crimson light ignited in the eyes of every Defense Force soldier, swept up in the Puppet War King’s fervor.

While the Imperial Army basked in this fervor, a pitch-black shadow materialized on the street before the barracks. Iduchi, swathed head-to-toe in linen bandages, strode calmly down the corpse-strewn avenue. Even the dead spilling from the Yomi Gate instinctively shrank back, clearing a path before him.

"Mio——!" The lipless slit of Iduchi’s mouth curled into a savage grin.

His voice pierced the granite-reinforced walls of the military compound like a blade. Standing at the command room entrance, Mio felt a chill crawl up her spine. She turned toward the street.

"Iduchi has come," she said. "He’s advancing down the avenue."

"That bandage bastard’s here!" Aimee grinned fearlessly. "Perfect timing—just when we’re swamped."

"Prepare to engage!" Moura commanded. "All soldiers to the main gate! Archers to the walls! Mages, battle stations!"

"Poor strategy, Marshal," Fanatic interjected, her face blooming with a bewitching smile. "Throwing soldiers at a Death Servant is meaningless. Your men and that monster exist on entirely different planes. Only true power can face such a foe."

"How can we know without trying?" Moura’s gaze turned icy. "Imperial soldiers are the finest."

"Among humans, yes—I concede that," Fanatic purred. "But before a Death Servant? Humanity means nothing."

Moura’s eyes burned with suppressed fury.

"Mio and I will intercept him," Mio stepped forward. "Fanatic, can you hold this base? Iduchi specializes in close combat—terrible match for your magic."

"Indeed..." Fanatic sighed regretfully. "Against a blade-wielding madman, this mage is useless. But I can fortify our position with barriers."

"We entrust the defense to you."

"Leave it to this one," Fanatic smiled sweetly. "In exchange... tonight, you *must* visit this one’s chambers. I’ll cherish you properly—in every way~~"

A deeper chill than Iduchi’s presence slithered down Mio’s spine. This seductive sorceress was dangerous in ways the Death Servant wasn’t. Grabbing Aimee’s hand, Mio knelt before Moura just as Fisher had. Moura paused, then understood.

"Mio," she declared, "and Esmeralda. We request temporary assignment under Marshal Moura of the Empire."

"Granted!" Moura’s nod was sharp.

War God Balder’s power surged into Mio. Beside her, Aimee’s eyes blazed crimson with renewed vigor—but Mio felt the blessing barely touch her. Still, any strength mattered now. Within minutes, Fanatic’s barrier activated: a pale blue dome encased the command post, transforming it into an impregnable fortress. Yet as its core, Fanatic stood frozen—unable to move or cast further spells.

"No time to waste," Mio drew her Force Field Sword. "We move out!"

"Roger!" Aimee’s shout rang with spirit. "Ready when you are!"

The bandaged Death Servant halted before the Imperial shield wall. Iduchi’s beast-like instincts sensed something unnatural about this army. Ordinary humans would flee at the sight of a Death Servant. Yet these soldiers held formation—shield-bearing infantry blocking the gate, archers poised on ramparts, crimson light burning in every pair of eyes. No fear. No hesitation.

"So," Iduchi chuckled, "the War God’s blessing. It won’t save you. You’re merely divine bait. *Become fear!*"

He strode toward the shield wall, leaving smoldering footprints in his wake.

"First rank!" Lucius, guarding the gate, barked orders. "Advance!"

The front line surged forward, spears thrusting through shield gaps at Iduchi. Steel flashed. Armored soldiers—and their heavy shields—were cleaved clean through the waist. Guts and blood painted the air as ten men fell to a single stroke. Watching his men’s torsos spin skyward, Lucius felt nothing. The massacre that should shatter morale felt like a quiet morning drill. No terror. No doubt. Only military honor and duty burned within him. *This* was Moura’s blessing. *This* was how the legend of the Invincible Iron Army began.

"Second rank! Prepare!" Lucius’s voice stayed calm. "Advance!"

Unflinching at their comrades’ deaths, the second line raised shields and spears. Then—two girls burst from behind the shields, flanking Iduchi.

"At last!" Iduchi roared with laughter. "Mio——!"

Mio’s reply was a Holy Silver Bullet. The rune-engraved silver round shot from her Punisher toward Iduchi’s forehead. He flicked it aside with his left scimitar—but in that split second, Aimee struck.

"Taste my blade!"

Steel flashed. Iduchi’s right hand flew skyward. Before Aimee could cheer, bandages coiled like serpents, reforming his hand. He caught his falling scimitar mid-air, flexing the new fingers.

"What *is* this monster?!"

"Aimee, fall back!"

Mio’s shout came too late. Magic flared behind the shields. Six mages channeled their power into a mid-tier spell: "Blazing Flame." Fire engulfed Iduchi. He stood unscathed within the inferno, bandages whipping around him, crimson runes glowing fiercely.

"Flames born of magic are hollow illusions," he slashed his scimitar, scattering the blaze. "False fire cannot harm me."

Mio frowned. Flamethrowers had seared him in the sewers—why did mage-crafted flames fail? She didn’t yet grasp magic’s truth: it was a "lie" that twisted reality, a phenomenon mimicking true fire’s effects.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!* Three Holy Silver Bullets slammed into Iduchi’s chest. Mio lunged, her liquid-metal Force Field Sword piercing toward his heart. Steel clashed as Iduchi parried with his scimitar. Mio fired point-blank at his head—he dodged with a contemptuous tilt. From the right, Aimee’s blade bit deep into his shoulder.

"*Get lost! Crush of Ten Thousand Juns!*" Enraged, Iduchi swung his scimitar’s pommel. Aimee blocked with her sword—*crack!*—the blade shattered like glass. Shrapnel sliced her cheek; blood sprayed. Her body flew backward, slamming into a wall. Even her silver armor, blessed by the War God, crumpled inward from the blow.

"*Martial art?!*" Mio gasped.

"Now," Iduchi sneered, "I have no limits. Show me everything you’ve got—while I still tolerate you."

*Tch!* Mio hurled two grenades and retreated. Explosions ripped through the street, shrapnel tearing the air. Iduchi strode through the smoke unharmed. He raised his scimitar—vanished—then reappeared behind Mio. She blocked the first strike with her sword, but the second blade pierced her abdomen.

"*Urgh!*" Blood choked her throat. In the same motion, she jammed the Punisher against Iduchi’s temple and fired. The bullet snapped his head back 90 degrees—a human neck would’ve broken. He grinned, unharmed.

"Is this all?" He twisted the blade in her gut, widening the wound. "Still... impressive. Most couldn’t counterattack while gutted. So..."

"So what?" Mio dropped the Punisher, seizing Iduchi’s bandages. "You’re the god’s lapdog. My enemy. I’ll annihilate you completely!"

Black sludge erupted from Mio’s wound, swallowing Iduchi’s arm. Startled, he severed his own left limb with a scimitar stroke. The sludge-devoured arm—and scimitar—vanished. Watching from the rear, Moura’s eyes widened. Behind him, Fanatic’s playful mask hardened into grim focus.

"That’s unmistakable..." she murmured. "The Fragment of Creation."

"Fragment of Creation?" Moura asked.

"A force that shakes the world’s foundation," Fanatic’s gaze turned grave. "Far too dangerous for mortals—or even gods—to control."

Moura looked toward the front lines. Mio had dropped to one knee, strength fading.