In the end, Atem concluded that the Empire's most realistic path of invasion would be through the Great Eterna Forest. Every morning—before his regular war meeting with Benimaru—he reviewed the strategic routes once more, refusing to leave even a single blind spot. He was a king, not a dreamer. And he acted accordingly.
If the Empire attempted to enter through the Great Eterna Forest, they would be forced to confront the greatest deterrent of all—Veldora the Storm Dragon. The Empire would never risk a direct confrontation. They would almost certainly attempt deception, likely using a massive decoy unit to distract Veldora while their true forces slipped through another route.
That meant Atem needed a flawless defensive structure.
There were three main routes the Empire could use inside the forest. One was dangerously close to Dwargon. If they chose that path—even after Eterna's warnings—the Empire would be crushed between Dwargon's elite army and Eterna's own forces. Atem judged that no sane general would pick this suicide route. He lowered the alert level there.
That left only two viable invasion lines.
However, Atem did not let the obvious blind him. Usually, enemies who appeared predictable were the most dangerous. Splitting one's army was a poor strategy when facing a powerful force, so Atem considered deliberately dividing his own forces:
Veldora guarding one route
Eterna's full army guarding the other
A simple but devastating counter-move. Even a decoy force wouldn't be enough to slip through.
Even Atem—who wasn't a military man at heart—could see this clearly. Which only deepened his suspicion.
If I can see it… then a true strategist would never rely on something this simple.
Another possibility formed:
Perhaps the Empire had begun to underestimate Eterna.
Perhaps they believed sheer numbers would crush even Veldora.
Or perhaps… they intended to use trickery instead of power.
For example, they might send their main army openly while dispatching elite units in small groups—platoon-sized assassins—skirting the forest paths and regrouping deeper inside. There were countless trails hidden beneath the canopy; monitoring them all was impossible. And a misstep could lead to ambushes as deadly as what Hinata once orchestrated.
If an Imperial force equal to a platoon of Hinata-level elites slipped through, the damage could be catastrophic.
Eterna simply didn't have enough personnel to guard every inch of the forest. Rushing to intercept after discovering the Empire's objective was one of the worst possible scenarios. It risked losing the initiative entirely—a situation Atem refused to accept.
The biggest problem, however, remained unchanged:
In war, unpredictability was a blade sharper than any sword. A single unexpected decision could tilt the war before it even began.
Atem considered dozens of possibilities… and found himself circling the same conclusion.
Should I strike first?
Would a decisive preemptive blow be the cleanest path?
The more he thought about it, the clearer it became:
A preemptive strike was the rational choice.
It spared Eterna anxiety.
It seized the initiative.
It forced the Empire onto the back foot.
And yet—
Atem exhaled softly, the Pharaoh's discipline overtaking the warm ember of impatience.
"No. I will not attack first."
Perfect answers did not fall from the heavens. Solarys might provide calculations, but strategy also demanded intuition, flexibility, and the willingness to adapt.
Atem decided—once again—to advance with controlled readiness, waiting for the deciding moment rather than acting blindly.
This conclusion steadied his mind. He allowed himself a rare indulgence: taking a bite of the sweet pastries Shuna had made. Long nights and deep thinking demanded a small offering of comfort. He paired it with the black tea Shion served.
"Eating them alone is unworthy of a king, Atem."
Benimaru finally entered Atem's office. Their private strategy meetings had become a ritual. Atem didn't comment on his lateness—Benimaru's responsibilities were heavy, coordinating all of Eterna's war preparations.
Atem simply nodded. "Shion. Serve him tea as well."
"Yes, my King!"
Benimaru, still scarred by Shion's cooking experiments, eyed the cup as though it were a ticking bomb. Atem almost smirked. Only black tea—nothing more. Still, Benimaru stayed cautious.
"Thank you. Just what I needed to keep going,"
Benimaru said, relaxing slightly. "We've been blessed with abundant sugar, so sweets like these feel almost luxurious."
"Peace allows luxuries," Atem replied. "Though I wonder how long this peace will remain untouched."
Benimaru shrugged confidently. "If a decisive battle comes, we can simply defeat the Empire and end it."
That was Benimaru—always reliable, always ready for war. Atem appreciated that confidence, yet hoped Benimaru remembered the goal was avoiding war when possible, not charging into it.
"Enjoy!" Shion said cheerfully as she placed the tea down.
Benimaru savored the scent. Then asked:
"What about Diablo? Is he attending today?"
Atem gave a knowing sigh. "He is mediating another dispute."
"Again?"
"Yes."
Diablo had been forced into becoming Eterna's full-time arbiter.
Ultima and Carrera clashed every day. Not out of hatred—but because their pride demanded constant competition in everything they did.
And Diablo, endlessly patient yet eternally dramatic, handled the storm daily.
Atem sipped his tea, his gaze turning sharp and calculating.
The chaos Diablo had been dealing with lately wasn't particularly unusual—at least, not for demons.
Yesterday it was the extradition of criminals, and the day before that it was the treatment of suspects in custody. Sometimes they fought over the food menu, and other times they nearly destroyed half a district arguing over who deserved to buy new fashion clothes first.
If it were just talking, it would have been nothing.
But when Ultima and Carrera fought seriously, even hardened criminals would pale.
Only Diablo had the authority—and the ferocity—to stop them.
Venom, his unfortunate subordinate, had already become a regular victim of their temper. Not just insults—physical beatings too, delivered with cheerful brutality.
At least no residents were harmed. In fact, the situation had grown so notorious that people had begun placing bets on when Ultima and Carrera would next clash.
Still, it was a problem—one that would only get worse if ignored.
That was why I had Diablo restrain them.
But even he was nearing his limit.
His loyalty to me was absolute, but even absolute loyalty had cracks.
A few days ago, Diablo had dragged Ultima and Carrera into the Labyrinth.
Not for fun—
but for a lesson.
He used the fact that you couldn't die inside the Labyrinth and beat them without hesitation. He struck them with enough force to shatter mountains outside, his eyes shining with fury disguised as "discipline."
And yet…
They came back more excited, practically glowing with joy at the chance to fight him again.
Demons truly are troublesome…
Even I, with all the weight of a Pharaoh's authority, could only sigh.
While I was discussing military matters with Benimaru, Diablo suddenly entered—exhausted, but standing tall out of pride.
"I have kept you waiting, Atem-sama…" he said, bowing deeply.
"You handled your task. Sit," I ordered calmly.
"No, no, please do not refer to it as hard work. Being entrusted with your command is—"
Benimaru cut him off with a tired voice:
"You don't look tired, Diablo. So let's move on."
Diablo froze, straightened, and forced a composed nod.
"…As you command."
If he still had the strength for long speeches, he wasn't close to collapsing yet.
There were more important problems to address.
The number of immigrants into Eterna continued to grow at a rapid pace.
And with more people came a wave of issues—employment, stability, training, and maintaining order.
A nation could not function if people simply wandered with nothing to do.
To strengthen the economy and prevent unrest, every citizen needed work.
But matching skills to jobs wasn't simple.
Some newcomers were skilled craftsmen.
Some were farmers.
Some were adventurers.
Some were performers.
For them, integration was easy.
But many had no skills at all.
To prevent them from becoming a burden—or worse, desperate criminals—I established an Education Center, operated directly under Benimaru's military authority.
At the moment of immigration, each person was asked what they could do.
Based on their answers, the Education Center trained them and assigned work accordingly.
It was the best system for a nation still developing.
"Even so," Benimaru said, "the number of immigrants keeps rising. Many are joining the military. Whether they're useful is a separate question… but they can at least serve in domestic security."
It was true.
Rumors spread quickly:
Join Eterna's army and you get paid, trained, fed, and housed.
You even learn a trade for free.
And Atem, King of Eterna, protects everyone under his rule.
Because of that, even adventurers and mercenaries joined.
Since Eterna was responsible for Western Nations defense, the growth of our army was beneficial.
But reality complicated things:
A war with the Empire loomed closer every day.
And new recruits couldn't be thrown into real battle.
Thus, I ordered a complete military reorganization, and Benimaru placed a single sheet of paper before me.
"This is the new structure I've drafted," he said. "Some changes are bold, but I believe they'll work."
Benimaru now held full tactical command—because I decided long ago that I wouId not interfere in military execution. I commanded the kingdom, not the battlefield formations.
But strategic authority still rested with me.
Only I could appoint generals.
And a general was more than rank—they were the backbone of a nation.
"Hmm," I murmured. "If you're satisfied with this arrangement, then I have no objections."
We had already argued over this structure many times.
I would not waste breath repeating the same points.
The final issue was the one I insisted on to the very end:
Gobta.
First Corps Commander.
General.
Benimaru exhaled slowly.
"I wasn't convinced at first… but now I think Gobta might actually be a good fit."
Benimaru wasn't wrong to hesitate.
Gobta was—on the surface—an idiot.
Unreliable. Lazy. A serial sleeper during meetings.
But that was only the surface.
I had seen more.
Gobta trained in secret.
He pushed himself harder than anyone knew.
And most importantly—
his men trusted him wholeheartedly.
"Exactly," I said. "He pulls through when it counts."
Sure, when it didn't count, he was useless.
But a leader's value isn't in never failing—it's in standing strong when everything is on the line.
"He's one of the Four Heavenly Kings!" Shion declared proudly. "He would never betray Atem-sama's expectations!"
Diablo nodded.
"And Testarossa can act as inspector. If Gobta shows weakness, she will correct it… swiftly."
Benimaru sighed.
"With even Diablo agreeing… rejecting it now would be pointless."
He fell silent for a moment, then finally nodded.
"…All right. I acknowledge him."
"Good," I said. "Then Gobta shall be appointed general."
Thus, a new general was chosen for Eterna.
Not because of perfection—
but because of loyalty, heart, and hidden strength.
Qualities a King of Games could always recognize.