“Lord Road, how shall we deploy our forces?”

A soldier asked as Road gazed at the monitor displaying the map.

He was a figurehead commander whose sole role was to relay Road’s will to the troops as a whole. His name was Argo.

A civil official in his early forties with a splendid beard.

Whenever Road entered the battlefield, Argo was always there to convey his orders across the ranks.

This spoke to his excellence as a commander, but it was also due to his own fervent wish.

He was trembling with joy.

Serving royalty was considered one of the greatest honors in the Empire.

Yet he wasn’t particularly devout.

He held loyalty to the Empire, of course, but what truly stirred his heart was a faith bordering on fanaticism toward Road.

(Ahh, to witness Lord Road’s battles once more after so long… This is bliss, utter bliss.)

He was thrilled.

The first time he’d seen Road in action was during the war with the EU.

That massive conflict, already dragging on for five years, had ground into a stalemate.

Then came the royal figurehead, thrust in as a military advisor.

Or so he’d thought.

A mere child—not even worth calling a ten-year-old upstart—taking command? It seemed like an insult to warfare itself.

They’ll suffer a crushing defeat and hand command over to me.

Worst case, they’ll pin the blame on me.

Argo had met Road in a foul mood, steeped in such gloomy thoughts.

But his views changed in an instant.

◇ Flashback: Road’s First Battle ◇

“Send Alpha to point A-21, Bravo to A-32.”

“!? …But there are no enemies there?”

“They’re there. An ambush. I’d say eight… no, ten of them.”

The map showed friendly and enemy positions.

All friendly intel was complete: five units named Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo.

Enemy positions were unknown; only visible units were marked.

(Hmph. Even as royalty, what could a ten-year-old brat possibly know?)

Argo inwardly cursed.

He resented how this royal had swooped in with authority, stealing the command that should have been his.

Road’s background was unusual, which weakened the military’s loyalty to him as royalty.

The child of the Emperor and a second-class citizen—initially not even acknowledged, until the Emperor changed his mind.

A sudden royal.

Perhaps that’s why Road had been shipped off to the battlefield so quickly.

Argo had assumed they hoped he’d die there.

“Understood. All units, proceed as ordered!”

Command was with the boy for now.

So he’d follow, indulging the kid’s delusions.

He’d come crying later, or wail that it wasn’t his fault.

With a sigh born of such feelings…

“This is Alpha! Enemy sighted! Engaging!”

“What!?”

But reality unfolded just as predicted.

“This is Bravo! Alpha’s engaged—moving to support! We can hit ’em from behind like this!”

“R-Right…”

In mere minutes, the ten-unit EU-made KOG squad was annihilated.

They’d been lying in ambush, only for combat to erupt suddenly, then double the firepower to strike from the rear—instant wipeout.

“I-Impressive…”

(Coincidence? No way. How? Does he know the enemy’s intel?)

Argo listened to Road’s instructions one after another, speculation swirling.

Every order was swift, flawless, victorious.

“Impossible…”

Before long, the enemy lines crumbled, their base right before them.

The surrounded foe surrendered without a fight.

“This is Delta! We’ve seized the enemy HQ! They’ve surrendered. Orders?”

“Tell them to treat the prisoners with respect. Argo.”

“Y-Yes!”

A frontline stalemated for a month fell in a single day.

Victory after victory, total triumph.

As if Road knew every enemy position, every intent.

The entirety of the battlefield.

Every prediction in this battle came true—later dubbed “foresight,” an unchangeable fixed future.

The EU could never alter the victory Road had foreseen.

This battle was the beginning.

The start of the “Devil’s Brain” who sealed the victor of the ten-year war later called the EU Great War.

The origin of Road Earthguard, the world’s most feared royal.

“I’ll rest a bit. The rest is yours, Argo.”

“Sir!”

Argo snapped a crisp salute.

He realized he’d lost all anger toward Road.

With heartfelt respect and awe, he saluted as if before the Emperor himself.

This was when Argo first trembled at Road’s command.

He felt he’d glimpsed the pinnacle every commander aspired to—a pinnacle too beautiful.

And Road’s courteous treatment of prisoners struck him as gentlemanly.

Even as a person, worthy of respect—a boy of just ten.

Younger than his own child by a decade or more.

“All units, report casualties!”

Argo handled post-battle affairs.

They had to secure the captured base, so he checked each unit’s status.

“This is Alpha! Casualties… none! Replenish ammo and KOG energy, and we’re good for sustained combat!”

“Good work! Excellent!”

(No casualties in a fight like that? Outstanding.)

Minor wounds and resupplies needed, but zero losses—an incredible result.

Argo thought the unit leaders deserved rewards.

He credited skilled troops—until the next report paled his face.

“This is Bravo… zero casualties here too!”

“What!?”

“This is Delta… same here… no casualties…”

“Huh!?”

“This is Charlie! Zero losses!”

“No way…”

“Echo reports no casualties ei…ther…”

Reports poured in from each unit.

Every one: zero casualties, zero deaths.

Unheard of in any battlefield Argo had seen—impossible.

Like winning chess without losing a single piece.

You can’t aim for that; the difficulty was beyond imagination.

Only if pros faced amateurs—but the enemy commander was a veteran who’d held for a month.

Road matched that level.

Argo trembled.

Road was beyond measurement—far above him.

From that moment.

Like a rabid fan, a cult follower.

He began worshiping Road like a god.

“Right. Let’s encircle them slowly. Leave a gap from point B to C. Redirect those forces to point E.”

“May I ask the intent?”

“I’m no thrill-kill murderer. I’ll give the civilians a chance to flee. Once the resistance fight’s over, the third-class citizens can have it.”

“Yes sir! Your merciful judgment humbles us!”

Argo relayed Road’s will.

Opening that sector was Road’s mercy—a path for battlefield escape.

The resistance who killed Yumir needed annihilation, but Road had no intent to slaughter innocents.

Yet the true purpose was deeper.

And like strangling with silk, a slow, inevitable defeat enveloped Kenya and the others.

…

“Isshin-san! The slums… they’re completely surrounded now…”

“Evacuations?”

“Evacuations… seem to be going smoothly? Not sure, but they’re progressing!”

Radio from the evacuation team confirmed smooth progress.

“Good…”

(A trap? But the Second Prince is said to be honorable. Intentional…? He killed the imperial princess? Kenya said he escaped, but damn it! Nothing makes sense! Still…)

“Then full force for a breakout at one point. Evacuations are probably fine!”

(If that Road royal’s as rumored… evacuations should be safe.)

“Understood!”

Isshin’s orders were spot-on.

An ace commander who’d survived deathlines countless times—a top Japanese general.

Best move here: enemies encircled all sides, so punch through at one point.

Kenya’s group attempted it under orders.

The optimal, swift judgment.

But precisely because it was optimal…

“Why… are there so many enemies here…?”

No escape from Road’s foresight.