Having just narrowly avoided being wiped out, the demons and imperial soldiers pour into main Dwarven halls furiously. The large, pillared chamber we entered is also at a higher elevation than the trap room, presumably designed to ensure the lava trap won't spread to the main fortress. The dwarves' response is also noticeably lacking, so contrary to my expectations this didn't turn into the horrible meat-grinder combat with fiery death right at our heels. I guess it's true what they say. If you expect the worst, you won't be disappointed whatever happens.

Imperial soldiers make haste to secure a beachhead here while demons relieve all their cumulated anger by mauling the Dwarven guardians who were caught with their pants down. I bet the little bastards were too busy congratulating themselves for having devastated imperial vanguard and good chunk of demons without a single casualty on their side. A succubus with bit of knowledge on thermodynamics facilitating a breach in their firewall clearly wasn't part of their calculations.

I myself am feeling tad bit faint, since I'm once again running low on essence. This time I made certain to avoid going too close to zero, so I successfully avoided fainting like the previous time I used hellrime. There's also the fact that this battle and all the wrath and other dark emotions it has brought were indirectly allowed by my actions, meaning should I get to absorb some of that into my essence.

Exactly how much is due to me remains unclear, I haven't figured how that process exactly works. With contracts it's more clear cut (which could be a reason why they exist), but only overall pattern I see is vague 'you'll get it if you deserve it'. There could be some physical laws that governs it, like that the essence of malevolence being particles of some kind that the demons who created them can attract and absorb... or it could just be 'because magic' and that's it. Who knows?

Anyway, besides the fatigue, I also lost my weapon in the lava room so I'm staying in rearguard. Despite having several hallways connected to this room, the Dwarven attempts to boot us invaders out aren't succeeding. The superior Dwarven numbers are next to useless bottlenecked in the same positions they would have used to protect themselves from an invasion. And demons supported by professional imperial soldiers would be a tough a nut for anyone to crack.

Now it's a race against the clock: imperial mages should be able to open a way here and let reinforcements in, but can they do it before the dwarves break the through by pulling some new nasty trick? Which reminds me, I should do something about Celica... She took a bit of mental damage for sake of my plan, so getting her back into the game might take some effort.

"Earth to Celica."

"Uuuuuuuuu~..."

Doesn't look good, she's still moping. I have a bad feeling that even if I explain it was necessary for getting us out of the lava trap, I'll still end up having to do her bunch of very embarrassing favors if I want her to forget and forgive. Hmm, maybe I'm overthinking this. Let's try shameless denial instead.

"Celica, about the earlier... Just kidding."

"... Eh~?!"

"Got you good, didn't I?"

"Oh you~...! Bad Ais~! BAD~!"

She punches me a few times playfully, though with her ever-surprising amount of strength it manages to rattle me thoroughly. With that Celica is back in action. ...I can't believe that actually worked; she really is an easygoing one. Well, I don't dislike that about her.

"Don't do~ that again, okay~?"

"I promise."

"Good~! Now, big sis~ has little something to say to those little bastards~..."

After performing this player swap I spectate as Celica immediately jumps into thickest battle and claws at the enemy like an angry badger - how she manages to do that always keeps on surprising me. Ah, now she slams a dwarf clad in long hauberk repeatedly into wall, painting it red. Why are they wearing those? That long hem makes them look even more short than they really are. She giggles happily when the dwarf's head has turned into indistinguishable mush, and jumps at her next victim.

Other demons, though few in numbers, similarly demonstrate their brutality and power in this claustrophobic battlefield. Fighting them-- us with only little room to maneuver is clearly very dangerous. Is this why dwarves refuse to summon demons?

As the molten stone has cooled enough, flash of magic precedes the arrival of reinforcements. I can finally let out a sigh of relief. The balance of battle turns again, if only a little. Dwarves’ chances of regaining the lost ground are slim now, but they aren't giving an inch more without a fight either. The fight in tunnels bogs down as both sides barricade themselves against attacks and counter-attacks. This is far from over.

***

A week after the first hall was conquered majority of the fortress is still in Dwarven hands. I silently observe as imperial forward command attempts feverishly to find some answer to this stalemate by analyzing the sketchy maps they have of this fortress.

Despite the setback they suffered, dwarves are masters of making any offensive moves against them costly and frustrating. Including for me: just how much time I have to waste into this glorified hole in ground?

It turns out not much longer. A distinct squad of soldiers arrives from the surface, consisting of engineers and mages in light blue robes and ornamental metal pauldrons - wind wizards? The engineers carry with them strange urn-like devices, and an officer in a silver breastplate and plumed helm barks them orders.

"Special squad, rig the key locations! Wind mages, prepare ventilation spells! Everyone else, retreat to the entrance room on my signal!"

I approach him. Something is going on, and I don't like not knowing what when it could very well affect myself too.

"Officer, what are these? There was no mention about this during the campaign planning."

"Lady Aisen? These are special enchanted ordnance."

"Yes, I can see that."

"The general himself decided this approach. The council of officers estimated that fighting dwarves tunnel by tunnel would not be cost-effective."

'Cost-effective'. Now there's a lovely way of saying that the tunnel-to-tunnel battles are littering the halls with corpses and getting negligible gains in return. Before I can demand more details, the soldiers report back. Whatever they did, it is ready now.

"OKAY PEOPLE, RETREAT TO YOUR DESIGNATED LOCATIONS!"

Soldiers make haste back while demons look around trying to decide whether this includes them, and whether they should care. The hurry in which soldiers leave makes a good case that they wouldn’t want to linger here, and all leave, myself included.

The entrance room, which is filled by cooled lava-stone except for a tunnel created by mages, is full of retreating soldiers, with those longest on the field leaving for surface. A group of wind mages noticeable in their light blue robes and metallic ornamental shoulder guards stand ready at the opening. They seem to be preparing to cast wind spells in turns to keep continuous stream of air in effect.

"Buuu~! Why'd~ they retreat now~?"

"I have an inkling…"

Enchanted urns in key locations... Otherwise I'd have said those are explosives, but the addition of wind mages changes things. If I'm right with my hunch, they've chosen quite a nasty tactic.

I peek into now deserted section of the main hall, and witness the beginning of the empire's game changer. A dirty yellowish fog slowly spreading its fingers, kept away from our tunnel by the wind mages. I can hear the shouts of dwarves just out of sight - presumably their advance troops sent to find out why imperial forces retreated. They start coughing and screaming at an alarming rate, which is soon followed by gurgling death rattles.

The empire has deployed poison gas to eradicate the dwarves.

***

I walk around the fortress after the devices conjuring poison gas did their job. I cannot see a single living dwarf left in these silent halls. The special squad had located key points in Dwarven network and placed them there. Key points in its ventilation, to be exact. From those the clouds spread throughout the fortress, killing each and every dwarf it touched.

It's even less pretty sight than you'd think. The gas didn't just suffocate them: wherever the cloud had concentrated and touched skin, it left hideously melted burns behind. That sight is going to haunt in the nightmares of whoever has to clean this place up.

There are magic spells to conjure poison gas, but an attack anywhere near this in scale or intensity is unheard-of, at least if the soldiers I heard talking about it are right. However, the part that surprised me most was that it didn't really surprise me. I hadn't heard anything about this plan beforehand, but I still feel somewhat familiar with the concept of massive scale gas attack. It's as if I had actually seen it happen myself before. Just when and where did I witness something like that? And why are there no emotions attached to that memory? Even I found it disturbing here and now, so that lack of feeling is almost ominous. ...I'm not one to turn away from the truth, but if I had that kind of memories, is aspiring to regain them really worth the trouble?

No... Going off on the tangent because of fragments of memories is pointless. I decide to just continue on with my scouting. Some areas are devoid of all dwarves, living or dead. Only the strictly functional furniture is left in the empty rooms. I assume some of them might have been out of the gas' circulation area, or maybe managed to locally negate its effect with magic, and so survived to escape. But vast majority of their race in this mountain have fallen victims to this.

Then I come to a room with many small beds and... Oh. Their children have beards too. Bit of the mist still lingers around the small corpses, but with my poison resistance I am safe from its effects. But it's not the gas that is giving me this oppressing feeling. This sight... I don't even like the dwarves, so why does this disquiet me so?

Okay... Let's be rational. Would a long torturous battle have been better? One dragging on from hall to hall, tunnel to tunnel, possibly lasting for years? Objectively that could be much worse than this. And as ruthlessly utilitarian the dwarves would have done the same in the empire's position. Do it onto others before they do it to you, right? But I just can't manage to cast away this growing feeling of wrongness that is unbecoming for a demon.

Even if we agree that I'm not like other demons, taking this so hard is unlike me. My episodic memory may be fucked up, but I do know how my own personality is. There's always something bad happening somewhere anyway, so if one starts investing emotions in misfortunes of strangers, there is no end in sight. Therefore, if it doesn't concern me, I just ignore it.

But now that I think about it, since I became a demon I may have actually been more proactive and helpful than I thought I could be. Like... I wouldn't have just helped out Athala with the zombies without expecting compensation, nor thought of sticking around to make sure the soldiers get out of the lava room in time. And I especially would never have accepted something as troublesome as the position of ambassador - puppy eyes involved or not. Is it because the world is so full of shit that I'm subconsciously adjusting to balance the scales? ...Or is this change a symptom of something else entirely?

Or maybe it's nothing. My worry about morality rings a bit hollow when my reason for coming here was to claim the best loot before anyone else. Hey, they are already dead so this is just pragmatic.