“Hmm…cheeky little bastards,” Daggrull muttered to himself in frustration as he watched his vanguard force get blown away by missiles.
He’d never expected this, not at all. He’d been looking forward to a completely unprepared enemy, but he was just kidding himself.
“What now, brother?”
Glasord, his ever-reliable younger brother, wanted to know. Only then did Daggrull realize he had been talking out loud.
“Heh-heh-heh… It’s been a long time since I had a real battle. Let them have their fun for a little while. They need to get their battle instincts back.”
Losing their momentum from the start was irritating, but it wouldn’t mean that much in the end. The enemy was putting up much more of a fight than he thought, but even this was trivial to Daggrull.
The Bound Titans numbered thirty thousand in all. Some were weaker, inexperienced troops, of course—but even if they got sifted out, all their elite soldiers would still be enough. In fact, if they all just fled the battle once things got busy, it’d do a lot for their survival rate.
“Roger,” said Glasord. “Any new soldiers, or those without Ultraspeed Regeneration, can head back at this point.”
Glasord, understanding Daggrull’s intentions, lightly nodded and began to give out instructions. He was in his element, the prospect of a large-scale war not seeming to bother him at all. A calm general made all his staff calm, too, and since the chain of command was in good shape, they quickly regained their composure.
Soon, the giants were using their incredible strength to throw projectiles at their foes. This wasn’t part of the original plan, but the giants were gleefully crushing huge rocks into smaller ones and heaving them around as they pleased. This turned out to be a tremendously destructive attack, perhaps even equivalent to the bone archers’ missile launchers. It was a quick lesson in just how impossibly well suited for combat the giants were.
These rocks rained down on the Long Wall. Every hit caused considerable damage, and any monsters in the way were reduced to dust. However, the Long Wall itself stood—as it should have, because beneath the peeling outer wall was the dull glow of magisteel.
“Damn you, Luminus. Of all the nasty surprises…,” muttered Glasord.
“The barrier prevents us from teleporting into or beyond the Long Wall,” said Daggrull. “We’ll be at a stalemate here if it’s not broken.”
Glasord sounded less than thrilled. Daggrull just snorted as he read the situation. His first move was a poor one, and looking back, he should have seen it coming. After all, that scheming demon lord Rimuru was on their side.
He had expected Michael to crush Rimuru, but to his great surprise, he heard Rimuru had his number instead. There was no longer any looking down on him as the new guy in demon lord-dom. Daggrull had always recognized his talents, but he now realized he should see Rimuru as his equal…or maybe even stronger than him.
Rimuru was a born genius at spotting the enemy’s strategy, then taking advantage of it. Daggrull fully understood Rimuru hated to see his friends suffer any casualties. So—and this was so classically Rimuru of him—he deployed immortal monsters for his first wave. These were wimpy guys, save for how the sun strangely didn’t seem to bother them, but their offensive force could no longer be ignored.
Daggrull wasn’t familiar with these weapons, but clearly, they were too powerful for a low-ranked giant to withstand. A few of them attempted a suicide charge in response, but they were knocked down by the lines of zombie soldiers ready to strike them. They didn’t seem to be casting magic; instead, they were hurling small, gravel-like pellets at high speed.
Both of these attacks were effective against the giants. Their species had high resistance to magic, but that was meaningless in the face of what looked like purely physical strikes. Against them, low-level giants with no regenerative skills were just lining up to be killed. Fortunately, the defenses of this enemy were the same as the ordinary undead.
The battle was mostly fought at long range, but considerable damage was done to both sides. This strategy probably only worked because of the Long Wall Luminus had built, but having to struggle against a force that’d normally never slow him down annoyed Daggrull to no end.
“Can you believe it?” he asked. “I didn’t think I was underestimating Rimuru, but just look at this. My wonderful foot soldiers, being defeated by the lowest of low-ranked undead!”
He still had his old memories, and his core personality hadn’t changed, either. He had no deep-seated hatred for Rimuru, and if he could help it, he didn’t want to fight a war against his old friends. But his memory of the era as one of the old gods—an age when all he wanted was to rampage until he ruled the planet—made him fiercer inside. He wanted to rebel against the divine Veldanava and show just what he was made of. That, he believed, was what Veldanava hoped for, too. The hope that the child may someday outshine their parent. He couldn’t disappoint that divine parent with the way he fought today.
There were some who were fated to be “god-killers,” and Daggrull was one of them. So he couldn’t stop now. Even if it meant betraying his friends—even if he wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing to do.
Then he recalled something.
“Ever since she killed my friend Twilight, Luminus and I have constantly been at each other’s throats. This, too, is another reason why I must fight.”
Yes—Luminus, the demon lord Daggrull recognized as his rival, had killed her own father. He hated her for killing his friend…but he was also jealous. Respectful. All those feelings were intertwined inside him, making for an extremely complicated mix of feelings.
Then he remembered. His sons—Daggra, Liura, and Chonkra. He had already detected their presence in this battle. They were enemies this time, but he wondered what kind of fight they’d show him. He had spoiled them in their younger years, making them strong in muscle but not in actual ability. They could take down an average demon lord, but against a “real” one, it was no contest.
Daggrull loved his sons, but he didn’t expect much from them. Or…really, he never trained them because he didn’t want to burden them with the karma of having to kill their own dad. Defying the Creator was absolutely impossible…but his sons would be freed from that curse.
Yes… I will go down my own road. You must take the one that each of you believe in!
Of course, to enjoy that freedom, one must have the strength to protect it.
“What will we do about your kids, my brother?”
Fenn seemed amused by this as he asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? If anyone stands in our way, we’ll mercilessly beat them down! If they can feed off that pain, then good. If not…”
…let them rot in the sand. That was the absolute rule of this world—survival of the fittest.
Hopefully they’ve gotten at least a little stronger. At least so they’re not quaking in their boots in front of me.
Daggrull didn’t hesitate. All that mattered was his mission. He was always a warrior that way—a pure, simple warrior.
Then, in just a little time, the full fury of the giants would sweep across the battleground.
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