The ground trembled under the weight of the demon army's march. A river of steel and iron-gray flesh flowed across the scarred landscape, the rhythmic thud of armored boots a grim heartbeat echoing for miles. They were a force of disciplined fury, a moving fortress of warriors whose loyalty had been captured overnight. And at their head walked the man they believed to be a marshal of hell, his sleek, midnight-black armor moving with a chilling silence that stood in stark contrast to the clatter of the knights around him.
Beside this silent enigma, a young oni girl kept pace, her crimson-tinted eyes fixed on him, a deep frown creasing her brow. Rie's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and a strange, budding sense of security. Finally, she could hold her questions no longer.
"Why?" she began, her voice barely a whisper against the wind. "Why did you call me your sister?"
Gamma didn't look at her, his gaze locked on the horizon. His voice, filtered through his helmet's external speaker, was as steady and devoid of warmth as ever. "It's a habit, kid," he said flatly.
"A habit?" Rie pressed, emboldened. "What kind of habit is asking a girl you just met to be your sister?"
He finally turned his helmeted head slightly, the glowing visor seeming to peer right through her. "And why did you run to me like that?"
The question struck Rie with the force of a physical blow. Heat flooded her cheeks, a fierce blush she couldn't hide. She remembered the overwhelming terror of finding the castle in ruins, the relief so potent it felt like pain when she saw him standing there, alive.
Gamma let out a soft, almost inaudible sound, something between a sigh and a chuckle. "You like me, don't you?"
Rie's mouth opened, but no words came out. She fell silent, her gaze dropping to the churned-up dirt at her feet.
His tone softened, losing its hard edge for a moment. "Listen, Rie. I can't be what you might be thinking. I was conditioned for war, not for... that. Emotion, love... those things were programmed out of me. Where I come from, soldiers like me are forbidden from forming intimate relationships. It's seen as a threat to operational focus". He paused, the words hanging in the air. "I've been on a battlefield since I was fourteen. I never had a family, no brothers or sisters. The only family I ever knew were the ones who fought beside me. The ones who bled with me, who screamed the same battle cries, who watched my back while I watched theirs. They were my brothers and sisters in arms".
Gamma reached out and placed a heavy, gauntleted hand on Rie's head, ruffling her hair with a surprising gentleness. The gesture was clumsy, unfamiliar, yet it sent a wave of warmth through her. "Don't worry, kid. You're safe with me. I'm not going to do anything weird to you".
A small, genuine smile finally broke through Rie's turmoil, followed by a quiet laugh. "I believe you... old man".
"Hey, I'm not that old," he retorted, a hint of mock indignation in his voice. "I'm only twenty-four".
"In demon years, that's practically ancient," she teased, feeling the heavy tension in her chest finally begin to ease. "You're probably at least sixty in our years".
"I don't know about that," he said, and for a moment, they shared a lighthearted laugh, a brief, fragile respite from the grim reality of their situation.
Sobering, Gamma's focus returned to the mission at hand. "So, tell me about this world. What's the war really about?"
Rie hugged her arms. "I don't know when it started. The village elders say it's been going on for hundreds of years. Humans, elves, and dwarves wanted to secure their lands, and so did we—demons, orcs, goblins, all the races they call 'monstrous.' Then, a prophecy appeared. It claimed that our races were an 'abomination' destined to destroy the world. That's when the Divine Alliance was formed".
"'Divine Alliance'?" Gamma echoed.
"Yes. A union created to fight what they call the 'demon war.' And with the Alliance always comes a Hero," Rie explained. "A chosen warrior, wielding a divine weapon. But this time is different. Now, they have angels fighting with them. That's never happened before".
Gamma processed this, his internal processors linking it to his own mission. Angels. Traitors. It was too much to be a coincidence. "Wait a minute. If a war is raging, how was your village so peaceful? Hanamura seemed completely untouched".
"It's protected, isolated," Rie replied. "Not many people live there permanently, mostly just children, teenagers, and the elders. The adults go to work in the bigger cities or… join the army".
Gamma fell silent, the pieces clicking into place. A backwater planet, a medieval society, and a holy war fueled by a prophecy, now escalated with otherworldly participants. To him, it wasn't just a war; it was a tactical problem. He broke away from Rie and strode toward the demon captain, whose massive frame was draped in ornate, blood-red armor.
"Hey, Captain," Gamma called out.
The captain turned immediately, his scarred face filled with reverence. "My Lord. What is on your mind?"
"Why are we taking this route? Why focus on capturing their bastions instead of forcing an open-field engagement?"
The captain pointed a clawed gauntlet toward a distant, fortified hill. "The humans have built a chain of outposts, my Lord. These bastions choke our supply lines and restrict our army's movement. Before we can launch a full-scale assault on their major cities, we must clear these strongholds and secure the territories they control. We need to expand our foothold before we can push deeper".
"So it's a war of attrition and territorial control," Gamma concluded.
"Exactly, my Lord," the captain confirmed with a respectful nod.
"Thanks, buddy," Gamma said, clapping the much larger demon on the shoulder pauldron before walking back to Rie.
"Damn," Rie muttered as he approached. "That was cool".
"What's cool?"
"You," she said simply. "This whole war... it's like a game of strategy to you, isn't it?"
Gamma didn't answer. He just looked ahead as the convoy marched on.
After what felt like an eternity on the move, a city of impossible scale rose from the horizon. Towers of polished crimson stone and black iron clawed at the sky, their sharp, aggressive architecture a declaration of power. Banners the color of dried blood fluttered from every spire. This was the capital of the demon empire, a place known as the Crimson Red. The name was fitting; nearly every structure was built from a deep red stone that seemed to drink the sunlight.
The demon knights led them through gargantuan gates and into the heart of the city, where the air was thick with the scent of sulfur and strange, exotic spices. They finally reached the central castle, a monstrous edifice that served as the seat of power. The great doors swung open, revealing a vast throne room.
The hall was lined with high-ranking demons—ministers and generals in dark, imposing attire, their monstrous features a study in deadly seriousness. And at the far end of the chamber, seated upon a throne carved from a single, massive obsidian shard, was a figure that commanded absolute authority. Her presence was a palpable force, ancient and wise, her gaze sharp enough to pierce steel and soul alike.
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