Hereward’s parting words left a sour taste in Aziz’s mouth, and it didn’t take a genius to know that the others were feeling the same way too. There were a few reasons for that, but the one that featured prominently in his mind was the bit about winning the war.

The colonel, who had sat in multiple meetings, had long understood what the Five Lands’ plan was. There were no plans to crush the enemy with as much speed as possible; that was a pipe dream, given the theorised size of the enemy forces back then. Of course, now that they had seen the sheer numbers of the demons, even the coordinated fire from every new toy the North had was probably not enough to kill them all.

As they stood around, brooding, the Demigods and Paragons that had been tussling with their demon counterparts returned. Most of them were injured, one way or another, but Aziz’s heart sank when he saw two of them holding on to one body.

He didn’t know who it was, but the death of even one Paragon was a shocking blow to their fighting forces. The Paragon’s wings — clearly, it was a beastfolk — had been broken, and a huge hole punctured his chest.

“He’s from the East,” Marie whispered in Aziz’s ear. “Paragon Ming Zhu.”

Aziz ran through the files he’d read, and then nodded quietly. The Paragon used to be part of the Plenum, but after the Plenum split up, along with the Human God’s irrational actions, he left the nation for good.

Minister Eventide bowed at the corpse, and then straightened his body. The others, as if on cue, followed suit, and then helped to bear the fallen Paragon up onto their shoulders. It was a superfluous action, but Aziz could understand why they did it.

Respect.

Aziz, along with a few others who hadn’t managed to join in, watched in silence as the impromptu procession made its way off the battlements. Their destination was clear — it was the rows of bodies that were currently lining the largest square in the Heaven-cleaving Fortress.

The ground troops had taken no casualties, but the same couldn’t be said for the Guardians. The demons’ airborne troops, unlike their Soldiers and Squires, had enough physical strength, such that they could actually exploit their numbers advantage. Enough punches of a certain strength could actually break Barriers, so…

Hmm?

Aziz turned to Marie as a thought flickered through his mind. “Marshal.”

“Something wrong?”

“I just realised something.” He took a deep breath. “The only reason why we can fly is due to Dynamos and Engines, right?”

“What about it?”

“In that case, why are the demons able to fly?”

“Hmm? It’s because they have Engines…” Marie’s words trailed off. “But that’s unlikely, right. They…don’t have Engines. No Barriers.”

“Exactly.” Aziz looked at the sea of demons. The relentless barrage by the Heaven-cleaving Fortress had put a visible dent in their numbers, but after a few minutes, any proof of their gunners’ efforts had vanished.

She looked at the departing procession. “We’ve…overlooked that. You, me and everyone else. Even Ark City. How?”

“We’ll have an answer for that eventually,” said Aziz. “But we need to figure out why they’re flying to begin with. It would be a nasty surprise if the demon infantry all start flying in the middle of a war.”

The marshal shook her head. “However, if that’s the case, it’s probably a racial advantage. Is it possible that Knight-rank demons are able to fly? I’ll send Captain Barret over to ask the Ars Tribe.”

Aziz grunted. He had a feeling that wasn’t the case, though. When the two of them encountered the Ars Tribe long ago, none of them were flying; even if they were just a refugee band, flying to scout the area was something basic.

“Maybe it’s the something the Demon God or Sovereign did,” Aziz replied. “But either way, we should report this upwards.”

“Joy.” Marie’s reply was flatter than the ground, and Aziz understood why. The massive tactical advantages such a possibility had meant that countermeasures were required. As for how the higher-ups would react to such information…

He decided not to think too much about it.

“For now, we’ll just disseminate this information to the First Aerial. With any luck, word might get out to the other nations from them.”

“Yeah, do that.” Marie held her head. “I’m going to write up a report.”

He shook his head as the marshal ambled off, tired. Taking in her departing figure for a few seconds, Aziz made his way off the battlements and towards the central square, where the casualties of the past day had been laid in a row. Unlike the others milling around the area, the colonel was here to check on the types of injuries they had.

Most of them had been killed by sheer force. From the looks of it, most of the Guardians laid out here had died from severe internal bleeding; they had probably made it back to the now-overrun Defence Line Foxtrot, only to collapse moments later.

There were probably others who had been killed on the spot too, those whose bodies were never retrieved. The administrative departments would do a rollcall, and then mark out those who never returned. After a few days, they would be marked as deceased, and the War Council would assign their benefits to the designated people of their choice.

Given that they were voluntary combatants, these benefits would be far more extensive than the ones set out in the Conference of the Four. As a whole, the Guardians were people who volunteered to help, despite their families meeting the contributions quota, so their dedication had to be repaid.

Aziz, however, had a feeling that the families of the fallen would rather not enjoy these benefits.

Nothing was comparable to coming back home alive, after all.

Bowing his head, Aziz left the silent square. He was beginning to be affected by the atmosphere, and he couldn’t afford for that to happen.

Heading off in the direction of the First Aerial’s bunks, he cast another look at the rows of dead men and women, and wondered how he would feel when his soldiers were the ones lying there.