The first day in the Demon Realm's calendar finally arrives. The 1st of the Month of Dark, P.D 1014.

Snow already covered the land in white. Winter is finally here, and so, animals also take their turn to hibernate themselves through the cold and harsh Winter. Yes, winter is the time to rest from the hard work in Fall for men and animals alike. A chance to be together with their family, feasting on good food, engaging in random chatters, solely to waste time until the cold winter is over and the long-awaited spring arrives.

Yet, despite the cold and the harshness of winter, men still prevail as the most foolish creatures ever walked the earth.

Legions upon legions of men cladded in armor begin to gather at all sides of the vast Asphodel Meadows. From the west are the humans and their allies from the Nine Kingdoms Alliance, and at the east are the grunt soldiers of the Demon Realm. Despite the heavy snowing, each side all seem to be ready for a bloody fight. What looks to be the beginning of another war is, however, just an "annual" demonstration of power from the two opposing factions. This demonstration consists of both side gathering every men they can, outfit them in imposing armors and arm them with cheap weapons before sending them all to stand still under the cold till the end of the day. After ten years of constant showcases of power, the soldiers from both sides more or less mutually agreed that this day is the traditional "Get yourself a cold" day.

This day is originated from the ceasefire ten years ago, in the aftermath of the Hundred Years War. The negotiation back then ended when both side agreed to stop fighting for a period of time. However, due to the circumstances in that time period, the demons lost a huge chunk of their former frontier – the Primero region – to the occupation of the Alliance at the end of the war, and the ceasefire denied their chance to reclaim. They still needed time to rebuild their now-weakened army, however, so the attack plan was stalled. In fear of retaliation during their own recovery, the Alliance invested a lot of resources and manpower to the defense of their new frontier – called by the demons as the Dark Line. In a fit of paranoia, the top guys in charge of the Alliance believed that their enemy might attack when they least expected it, especially during the Demon Realm's sacred holiday. And so, at every start of Winter, the Alliance mobilized every men in their disposal in preparation to counter the invasion attempts from the demons in their imagination. Ironically, the Demon Realm's top brass actually interpreted this as an attempt to invade them instead. So, they also gathered their own men at the start of every winter in order to bolster the defense of their land from threats made by the imagination of the Alliance's top heads. Each aggression from one side led to the paranoia of the other. A grand scale comedy that amused even the now-absent gods.

And so, this charade has already going on for ten long winters. While there were still some battles here and there, none actually reached the scale required in order to reigniting the great war of the past. A common belief from both side is: The moment a drop of blood is shed in this day will mark the beginning of this century's greatest war. But both sides dared not to make it happen…at least for the time being, until they have enough men to throw away and enough steel to break apart.

The lands in Primero region are vast, but their resources aren't actually worth enough to defend to the last man. However, the people from the Kingdom of Metallum – the kingdom at the farthest east of the West continent – want anything but another war on their own shores. That caused them to become the biggest investor of soldiers to maintain and defend the territories in this one-ocean-away realm.

The soldiers of Metallum make up the bulk of the Alliance's infantry. While a set of full plate armor was once the privilege only for the noble knights, this kingdom of Metal pride themselves as the only army who can brag that every single one of their soldiers are armed to the teeth! The common attire for a son of Metallum fighting here is a full set of iron armor, along with an iron shield and an iron sword. The most special thing about their equipment is that they are all self-sufficient. Yes, their equipment are not provided by the military, but from their own family instead, either self-made or bought from an iron workshop with reasonable price. It's a family tradition of Metallum to provide their sons with weapons and armors before they go off to battle. This is a cultural thing, due to this kingdom being a nation of blacksmiths. There's an old custom from Metallum which is to present a hammer, a pitch-fork and a sword in front of a one-year old child. If that child picks a hammer, he will become a blacksmith. The pitch-fork is a farmer. And the sword, a soldier.

However, no matter how strategically important the Primero region is, constantly defending a vast chunk of land like this will inevitable put a dent on the occupier's economy. And indeed, it has. Metallum can't bear the cost of defending Primero alone, after drafting a lot of their men and contributing tons and tons of weapons and resources. And so, that's where the other kingdoms jump in, in the form of military and supply aids, along with the provision of advisors and generals. They get the benefit of having a sturdy defense wall just by opening their wallets and sending a few men. Of course, Metallum's King back then – the late King of Iron – didn't want to be used as a mere puppet, so he demanded the other kings to send their own armies as well. After years of arguing, the other kings agreed to send their own men to the frontier, little by little, until this coalition army gained the strength it has nowadays.

Then again, it would seem like being petty is a requirement to become a King in the West continent. The amount of men sent by each Kingdom barely qualified as a regiment, let alone an army. Even if the number steadily rise higher with the passing of time, the King of Iron wasn't exactly pleased. Fearful of the demons' army rapid recovery, the King demanded the other Kings to send a huge chunk of their army to the Primero region for the purpose of "field training exercise" during the demons' new year. The other kings complied in order to stay on the good side of the King of Iron, but they still have their own condition: That is to withdraw the borrowed forces after the end of the new year day.

Yes, these vast, thousands upon thousands strong armies are only here just for a day to show off their might, before withdrawing to their own land. Another charade made by the kings in the name of defending their lands.

It's not a far sketch to say that nine out of ten men stationed at this land wouldn't want to be here if they had a choice, the one guy that says otherwise probably belongs to a mercenary group. Yes, when you have the money to throw but don't have enough men to send, and there are a bunch of mercenaries eagerly to kill for some shekels, why not hire them and get the trouble over with? And so, alongside with the main army, the kings decided to employ these men who kill for vices and greed. Using mercenaries have its own perks, you don't have to care about these mad men and just use them like disposable tissue. If ten die, simply hire a hundred more. They don't get covered or protected by the laws of warfare, so they are a good tool to use for dirty jobs that the normal army can't partake without consequences.

There are still a lot of things to say about the armies of the Heaven Realm, but if we list every single one of those right now, it will take a whole day!

On the opposite of the Alliance's coalition army, the Demon Realm's army at the Dark Line is made from one or two races only, rather than the mess the Alliance called an army. Demon Realm's army, usually called the Regular army, are mostly consist of the human's dark counterpart – the Devilmen. While Demon Realm is also a multiracial nation, they know even if they are united under a common banner, it won't be easy to have and maintain a unified army made from various races. The more exotic races have their own tasks in demon's military hierarchy, and so, they are stationed far away from the Dark Line, at the southern part of the East continent, leaving the Devilmen as the primary force to defend the frontier. However, the Orcs have the privilege to join the Devilmen in battle, due to how powerful an ally this race is and how the two have a very odd friendship, despite the…tragedies from their past. Whenever the frontier is in danger, the Orcs mobilize all their forces and go to help out. However, days like these where both side engage in a staring contest don't sit well with the Orcs, so their absent today among the demon's ranks is justified.

The Regular army is divided into three section: The North Corp, the Central Corp and the South Corp. Each corp is about 50000 men strong, guarding their own assigned sections. While in term of numbers, the Alliance's coalition army dwarfs the demons' by miles, but a common Devilman has twice the strength of a regular human, and each of them also have their own trump cards to play in order to even the odds. Numbers are not the deciding factor in this kind of war, even when quantity is a quality in its own.

The regular army is not alone, however. They have a helping hand from the cadets of Melas. These young students have undergo enough military training to function as elite soldiers. While the main task of the regular army is to make the bulk of the defense line, the cadets' missions are more varied, ranging from recon, escort, support, reinforcement to assassination, spying and sabotage.

No matter what you are, as long as you're standing on the Dark Line, you will have your own purpose, be it a soldier among the living, or an immobile corpse among the dead.

-------------------

「Asphodel Meadows - Central」

Ever since the New Year's morning, several legions from the Central Corp already gather at the east of this vast meadow. Men upon men clad in exotic armors march to their designated areas and assume their formation. Each regiment has their own type of armor, which differ in designs. Unlike the human-like standard armor counterpart of their enemy, the demons made their armor based on the images of monsters to strike fear to the enemy. It's also a way to differentiate soldiers from different regions, which each places having their own culture and belief to engrave on their armor design.

On their opposite, their enemy also do the same with their own men. Their banners are held high among the forests of men, with each banner belongs to various vassal forces loyal to the crown of Metallum. Alongside them are small flags for smaller forces, namely the mercenaries under their employment. Mercenaries don't have their own type of armors to distinguish themselves as a single force, so they use flags and flags bearers instead. Each flag indicates a different mercenary group. The more flags they hold, the bigger their group is.

And now, after playing the mind game of formation strategy, the two sides will now proceed to begin the yearly epic staring contest till the end of the day.

Snow has already colored the meadow in white. Yet, it keeps falling and doesn't seems to stop any moment. Heavier, and heavier. Colder, and colder. One may wonder if a snowstorm is going to come.

Despite that, the men from both side don't seem to flinch even from the harsh weather. But the question is: For how long?

"This is so irritating!"

Whispers a soldier among the demons' ranks. He's wearing a grey armor, along with a face concealing helmet in the shape of a wolf, while holding a spear in one hand and a shield with a wolf emblem in the other.

Normally, chatters aren't allowed when the soldiers are in formation. But that doesn't stop the soldiers from whispering to each other to kill time. Of course, the higher ranking officers may catch and punish them for this undisciplined behavior of theirs, but then again, they are punished only when they get caught.

"What good will come from whining? Just shut up, will ya?"

Says another soldier standing in the same formation.

"Arghhh! Damn it. You're saying like you don't want to go home in time for the New Year instead of standing here in this shitty place!"

The soldier is talking about a custom among the grunt soldiers at the frontier. Knowing how hard it can be for the soldiers to fight so far away from home, before the start of new year, the commanders of each legion will nominate a bunch of outstanding soldiers and grant them a short vacation home. The thing is, what the commanders may see as "outstanding" really depends on their subjective view, so a little bribe to stay away from this shithole of a place for a brief time isn't exactly unheard of.

"I missed my girlfriend."

Says a third soldier who decided to join in the chatter.

"She probably dumped you for some rich guy already."

Again, another joins the fray. Justified, as a jovial chatter may bring some warmth for the soldiers amidst the white snow field.

"Hey hey, I believe in my girl. She won't betray me."

"Yeah, keep believing."

Before the chatter can continue however, it seems like the commander of this group is catching on to something and decides to give a glance at the soldiers. Of course, they shut their trap right before the soldiers get themselves some punishment given by the commander. Only when the commander decides to do his own thing do the soldiers resume their little chatter.

"Urghhh. I want to go home. I can't believe that coward from the scouting squad actually got chosen to go home instead."

"You mean that newcomer Lapidoth? Come on, stop being a petty little shit, you twat."

"But I swear! How can a guy who always chicken out from a crowded fight got chosen? He probably bribed the commander just to get his ass home!"

Several soldiers sigh in unison.

"Come on, let's face it, getting yourself into a bunch of men beating the tar out of each other is nothing more than a glorified suicide. We're not the Orcs, damn it, so stop thinking on the same page with them."

Once again, the commander gives the soldiers a glance, and they quickly shut up before returning to chat again. On the opposite of their location, more and more men from the Alliance's army arrive and begin to take their formation as well.

"Geez. They keep coming in droves."

One soldier wearing a boar helmet comments.

"Just for today only though. I heard that in order to compensate for the numbers, those brats from Melas will have to get their asses over here as well."

"I pity those kids, really. Fighting a war the grown-ups brought upon them."

"It's their choice. Can't blame them if they want to shed blood on their own accord. We, on the other hand, just want the paycheck."

Right at that moment, another soldier interjects in.

"But did we actually earn them though, when our job is staring at the enemy hard enough and hope they all die?"

"You forgot the monsters slaying part."

"The kids partake that as well, even more often than us. I have a feeling that they are the ones who are really fighting this war, not us."

All the soldiers sigh at the same time.

"I feel useless. The helmet doesn't help, really. It's like I'm a minor character waiting to be killed in a shitty novel or something."

"Minor? Stop making yourself look important! From what I can see, you're nothing more than a mere nameless grunt character that will die no matter what!"

"Geez. Just stop it, will ya? Stop making me feel so depressed."

A soldier sighs yet again.

"When will our torment end…I wonder?"

"Just wait for one more year, lads."

Suddenly, a strange voicearrives, one that doesn't belong to any of the soldiers. In front of the soldiers are their own commander, who's keep giving glances to the young soldiers beneath his rank.

"Commander!"

All the soldiers straighten their backs and get a firm hold of their spears.

"One more year, and we can kiss the Dark Line goodbye, lads!"

"That means…"

All the soldiers know what the commander is implying.

"Just bear with it for another year. Until then, fulfill your own duty, soldiers! No, demons of the Demon Realm!"

"Sir yes sir! We shall give our life to the Realm, sir!"

Say the soldiers in unison. With this, the commander once again leave to fulfill his own duty. Despite the lack of punishment for breaking military's rules, the young soldiers still feel inclined to keep the silence due to guilt.

It isn't long until they continue their chatter, though. It is too cold to stay still under the snow. Chatter is the only thing that can warm up people withstanding the harshness of Winter, beside a warm bonfire and a bottle of wine, of course.

"Is it just me, or the snow is falling even heavier?"

A soldier notes as he looks in front of the field. The sky and the land are practically colored white at this moment. Vision on the opposing army is no longer clear for the demons' eyes, but they don't seem to be on the move, so the soldiers don't feel worried and just blame it on the bad weather. But they can't help but feel something's not right.

"Probably because of bad weather. This isn't the first time it happened."

"Yeah, maybe he's right."

The topic quickly changes into something else.

"Hey, let's hope that all of us can go home together at the end of this war"

Says a demon soldier.

"Come on, what are you, a girl? What's with the sissy line?"

"Hey I'm being serious right now. You don't know what's going to happen in a war. I would really miss chatters like this if some guy in this group didn't make it."

All the other guys fall silent.

"Geez. Stop being so sentimental. You're making me wanna cry."

"Heh, what a hypocrite. But…in way, I want it to come true as well."

"He's right. I still have a girlfriend waiting home. I can't allow myself to die h-"

Before the soldier can finish his sentence, an arrow suddenly comes from nowhere and pierces through his wolf helmet and his forehead, killing him instantly. A soldier's life is lost, signaling an upcoming attack from their human enemy.

But that is the least of the soldiers' worries.

"His crystal is broken! Get away!"

From the corpse of the dead Devilman, a dark cloud suddenly emerges from the mouth of his wolf helmet. It shrouds the whole dead body and begins to transmogrify the young soldier to a hairy beast with a goat-like skeletal head. It has arms similar to a human being if stretched longer than necessary. Its body is covered in a black hide with no visible flesh. There are no traces left of the former dutiful soldier, only a demonic beast remains.

"It's a Baphomet- Devi-"

With a surge from the ground, the goat demon easily snaps the head of the nearest soldier like a toothpick. The now-headless body pours out streams and streams of blood, dyeing the white snow beneath in a pool of red blood.

The other demon soldiers don't just stand there and do nothing. With spears and swords in hand, they strike their former comrade in a coordinated attack from all sides. However, the goat demon is too nimble. It jumps like a monkey to escape from the deadlock made by other soldiers. The soldiers anticipated this, so they have a squad waiting for it to land and attack.

CLANG!

But they prove to be useless as well. Its hide is tougher than an iron armor, to the point even swords and spears can't reach its flesh. The same can be said for its skeletal goat head.

"So this is…an ancient devil's power."

Powerless before the ancient beast, the soldiers can only stand and look as it continues to wreck their own formation. From soldier to soldier, it crushes them like they are just a bunch of rag dolls. When the soldiers resort to the use of magic, it kills all of the casters before they get a chance to beat it down with their magic.

"Ghehhhhhhh!"

The goat demon howls. However, right at that moment, before it can continue its rampage, a man riding a big wolf takes a surge toward it and easily slashes the head off its neck! The goat head is now lying on top of the white snow, yet its body is still standing with blood bursting through the now severed neck, and only staying there, no longer moving.

"Commander!"

Says the soldiers with relief. However, this is no time for them to relax, and the commander knows that.

"Men, get into the line formation! Prepare for unexpected enemy attacks!"

The commander swings his sword as he rides his ferocious wolf across this army to relay orders to his men. Right at that moment, another arrow find its path toward the head of the commander.

However, a commander is not a mere soldier. Before he ends up in the same fate as his own soldier, the helmeted commander takes a swing and slashes the upcoming arrow in half, effectively saving himself…and successfully locates the position of his enemies as well.

"Out in the meadows! They are hiding under the snow!"

As the commander points his sword toward the field, the mysterious attackers decide to show themselves when they no longer have the need to hide. From the ground, men cloaked in white camouflage sheets begin standing up. With how heavy the snow is falling, it's hard for the commander to estimate the enemy's numbers. He quickly gives up gathering information when there're still a lots of things that needed to be done.

"Light up the signal! Alert the other armies about this attack!"

As ordered, a soldier quickly grabs a burning torch and climbs to the top of a newly-built wooden watch tower holding a pile of straw on top of it. However, before he can do his duty and alert his allies, an enemy among the attacking party throws away his white sheet and reveals himself to be a huge, muscular blonde archer with pointy ears and a magnificent beard. He's holding a wooden bow half as big as he is. The man loads an arrow to his bow, he takes aim and shoots. The arrow goes straight through the head of the torch-holding soldier, pulling him away from the tower and to the ground, even though the archer only have a second to aim, and snow is dropping heavily around, not to mention the iron helmet the soldier wore. Such marksmanship can't be found among human archers.

"An elven archer!"

Says the commander when he catches a glimpse at the enemy's archer. He knows the elves are superb archers, but this is the first time he saw an elf with the muscles and the masculinity of an Orc. But that isn't important right now.

"I have to take care of this before the whole legion turns to chaos!"

Thinks the commander. Knowing there're still other commanders to replace him, and how important it is to swiftly deal with these enemies. The commander decides to get up close and personal with the enemy in white sheets. He begins to relay the orders before leading the charge.

"Squad 1 to 4 of the 4th Legion, follow me to intercept the enemy! The others remain in formation and try to alert the other armies! Get the archers ready to shoot anything approaching us!"

Riding on top of his trusty Warg, the commander takes charge with five hundred men running behind his back. The men yell as they begin charging at the enemy.

The men in white also fully reavle themselves. They are roughly a hundred men strong. With how little men they have, fighting against the upcoming soldiers isn't much different from knocking on Death's door. Or is it?

-Fino! Go do your thing!

Yells the muscular elf.

-Roger!

Right at that instance, a man still cloaked in his white sheet begins runing toward the demon army, alone. He is followed by the remaining men not long after, though. All of them are battle ready, but facing a five hundred strong demon force with a handful of a hundred humans is too foolish.

With the Warg as his ride, the commander obviously can approach his enemy faster than his own men. The closest enemy in front of his eyes are the one called Fino, who's still hasn't take off the white sheet covering his figure. But that doesn't matter to the man in charge when he's going to dye it red with his enemy's blood.

"For the Realm!"

The commander yells. He swings his sword downward at the enemy…

CLANG!

…only to get his swing blocked by a nigh-crystal-clear broadsword, which is hidden beneath his white sheet. The one called Fino tosses the white sheet to the direction of the commander. As swift as a sparrow, the commander once again swings his sword through the white sheet, slashing it in half in an attempt to counter the attack from the blind-spot of his enemy.

However, the commander quickly loses sight of his enemy, only to find out he's aiming to attack his ride instead.

An uppercut slash. The one named Fino slashes through the head of the Warg and to the commander himself. Before his imminent death, in an attempt to defend his life, the commander tries to use his sword to block the attacking blade.

CLANG!

But, it proves to be a futile attempt. The nigh-crystal-clear broadsword cuts right through his own sword, and slashes him into half.

The commander grunts as half of his body falls to the ground. He still have several seconds before his life gives away. The commander takes a look at his slayer as he lays dying. The one named Fino is a young man wearing light leather armor, not unlike your average drafted militia you can find in the Humans' countries. He's a teenager with brown hair and sky blue eyes. He's handsome, in a country boy way. A completely normal soldier drafted to fight the war, such a shame to die under the blade of one so young. However, it's not how low-born the one who slew him that makes the commander regret his defeat, nor does the strange looking sword on his hand.

No, it is the shining yellow tattoo on the back of his right arm that irritates the commander. It's a light seal, the one granted to chosen newborns as they welcome their new life in this world. The mark of a born-hero.

"You're…a 「Hero」…"

As he holds his hand trying to reach the young man, the commander's life finally gives out, and he dies. His arm drops to the snow, clenching a fist as a symbol of his regret. The young man only gives his fallen enemy a quick nod to pay his respect, before reassuming the fight for the living.

"Commander…! You bastard!"

Yell the remaining soldiers as they witness the brief fight earlier. They all take charge at the young men, with full intent to kill and a thirst for vengeance within their hearts.

The young man holds his strange broadsword to the front before chanting some sort of spell. The sword suddenly glows and radiates a flash of light, blinding the still-charging soldiers and halts them from their path.

When the light runs out, before their eyes, the young man is no longer alone. Behind him is a hundred men with varied armaments and no uniform nor standard to prove they are from a proper army. There are warriors, mages, even priests and Beastmen. A ragtag bunch of misfits assembled together with the sole reason is to fight in this war. A band of mercenaries, led by one who they called a Hero.

The young man points his sword toward the demons of the Demon Realm as he loudly announces his will.

-My name is Sera Fino, Hero of the「Empyrean Mercenaries」 ! Demons, prepare to die !

Swords drawn. Blood shed. Corpses fall. Men fight. Demons fight. A cycle of hatred that can never be resolved. With this marks the start of the greatest war of this century, the war to end all war.

The Winter War.