The Ravendawn-Murica patrol quietly guided the luxurious caravan to a stretch of road far from the main refugee path that had been cordoned off. When the last wagon wheel creaked to a halt in the clearing, tension settled over the entourage like a heavy fog.
"E-Excuse me, sir. Is something wrong?" The butler wrung his hands as he approached the patrol captain. "The soldiers at Dawn said we were cleared to leave."
"Nothing wrong," the Ravendawn captain said, voice flat. "Just a routine inspection. Please tell everyone inside the carriages to step out."
"Y-yes, sir. At once."
Moments later, a wealthy Vandorian merchant family emerged—fine silks, polished jewelry, and the unmistakable confidence of people who believed wealth could shield them from consequences. Two adult sons, both in their twenties, stood beside their rotund father and jeweled mother.
"H-how can I help you, sirs? I'm merely a merchant," the father stammered.
The captain didn't answer. He stepped aside.
Behind him stood someone the merchant thought long dead.
Ivy.
Escorted by Murican soldiers.
The entire family stiffened, faces contorting between fear and guilt.
"I-Ivy? Y-You're alive? O-Oh, thank the goddess…" the merchant choked out. "I'm so happy to see you safe, child…"
"Hello… master," Ivy replied softly.
The word 'master' made everyone in the Murican-Ravendawn patrol tighten their grip on their weapons.
"Are you… friends with these soldiers?" the merchant asked, voice quivering.
"I guess so." Her eyes scanned the entourage, her voice sharpening. "Master… where is my mother?"
The question landed like a blade.
The family froze. The butler looked ill. Guilt rippled through them like a visible tremor.
"S-She… she was…" the merchant tried, but his tongue faltered.
Ivy sighed. "Never mind. You don't need to answer. I already know."
Captain Irving stepped forward. "Miss Ivy. Are these the ones?"
Her eyes turned icy.
"…Yes, Captain. The family. The guards. The staff."
"And the slaves?" Irving asked.
Ivy's gaze drifted to the rear wagons. A cluster of terrified girls, no older than ten to fifteen, huddled in chains like herded animals.
"No. They're new. They don't know me."
Irving nodded at the Ravendawn captain.
The captain nodded back.
And the world erupted.
RATATATATA RATATATA
The Murican rangers cut down the armed guards with ruthless precision.
"KYAAA-!"
SLASH-SKRRK
Ravendawn blades cut down the butler and staff swiftly, blades flashing.
The merchant and his family collapsed, screaming, watching their world collapse in seconds.
This was necessary. Ivy had become a political symbol—a Murican miracle survivor, a poster girl for international diplomacy. If foreign nations ever discovered she had been a slave and prostitute, the narrative would shatter. Talvaris treated slaves as property, not people.
Loose ends could not remain.
Now, only the merchant family remained alive, trembling on the dirt.
"I-Ivy! Please!" the fat merchant cried. "Tell them to stop! I'm… I'm your father…"
She stepped toward him.
"I know."
She raised a Murican 9mm.
The Murican soldiers were startled.
"How the hell—?" Irving muttered.
BANG BANG-BANG BANG-BANG BANG
Her shots were clean. Two for the wife. Two for each son.
They fell instantly. Lifeless.
The merchant stared at their bodies, horror swallowing his breath.
"That's why," she whispered. "I'm killing you last."
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG—CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK
She kept pulling the trigger long after the bullets were gone, her hands shaking violently, her face blank.
Captain Irving lunged forward and forcibly seized the pistol from her hands.
"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS!?" he shouted, instinctively glaring at PFC Bella.
"Eh=?" Bella checked her holster.
It was empty.
"EEEHHHH!?"
Ivy simply bowed her head. "…I'm sorry, Captain."
She turned and walked away, shoulders trembling.
Irving sighed heavily. "Show's over. Release the slaves."
The squad dispersed into action. Chains fell, children ran.
Ivy kept walking until she reached an empty Humvee. She crouched behind it, hugging herself, trying to keep her body from shaking apart.
She gagged her own mouth with both hands.
And screamed.
"MMMPHH… MMMMPHHH… MMMMMMMPPPPPHHHH-!"
Her entire life's worth of pain and terror forced itself out in a single, silent, all-consuming cry.
But everyone heard.
And everyone pretended not to.
---
Murica, Teksas
The barren red plains of Teksas rumbled under the roars of two furious beasts.
One was a giant animal with wyvern legs, reptilian wings, a monstrous tail, and the unmistakable head of a very pissed-off rooster with a murderous poultry rage (yes, it was a cockatrice).
SCREEEEECH!
Across from it, a battle-scarred minotaur with a massive axe and the physique of a gym god. Muscles twitched with anticipation.
RRROOOAAAAR!
The minotaur charged first.
The cockatrice gathered crackling magic in its beak—an electric orb that burst forward like a thunderbolt. The minotaur dodged, leaping aside with shocking agility, then leapt again, axe raised high.
SLAAASH
The creature's head toppled cleanly to the dirt.
ROOOOAAAAARRR!
The minotaur raised the severed head, bellowed his victory.
Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap!
"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer declared, "our final initiate—Billy!"
An audience of well-dressed demons applauded. Solo, Monny, and Governor Arnold Suasanasegar—the scarred, suit-wearing minotaur legend—sat in the front row.
"Now," the announcer continued, "please welcome Prime Minister Alex Solomon and Governor Suasanasegar for the graduation ceremony."
Solo and Arnold joined the new graduates—minotaurs, ogres, trolls, and cyclopses bearing the scars of many battles. The banner above them read:
KING RANCH COWBOYS GRADUATION
Solo presented each graduate with a cowboy hat. Arnold handed out boots.
Becoming a cowboy in Murica was no joke.
King Ranch—the pride of Murica—was 324 square kilometers of electric-fence-fortified land built like a demonic Jurassic Park to keep the hell pigs, manticores, cockatrices, and other "livestock" from escaping and eating passersby.
It was only logical to hire giant-type demons as ranchers.
Unfortunately, today's event revealed a problem.
A big one.
---
"WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM?!" Solo screamed.
Dozens of imported Ravendawn cows, goats, and pigs—supposedly premium livestock—were skinny, shaking, traumatized.
Arnold patted Solo's shoulder.
"Sigh… What do you expect, Solo? These animals are stressed. Every four hours there's always a manticore or other farm beast trying to break into the enclosure because they can smell the easy prey."
"And not only that," he pointed to Billy. "Do you think seeing giant ranchers walking around doesn't scare them?"
Billy gently tried feeding the chickens.
The chickens took one look at the towering minotaur and panicked into a stampede. Several died on the spot.
Billy was sad.
"And that's not even the main issue," Arnold continued. "Their feed. We can't grow corn or hay. Soil's still sour even after the bitch barrier's gone."
"So we have to keep buying feed from Ravendawn?" Solo asked.
"Yep," Arnold confirmed. "And it's expensive as hell."
"NOOOO…!"
Monny pushed his glasses up. "Told you this would fail."
"My bacon… my burgers…" Solo wailed.
"Look, Solo, as a friend, I'm warning you," Arnold added. "You keep pushing this, and you'll lose the farmers' vote."
"Sigh… I understand, Arnold."
---
Bashington DC, The Black House
Solo and Lilith were walking in the hallway. They had their meetings for the post-Vandoria-Ravendawn situation this morning.
"How about hiring one of those elves to fix our land?" Solo grumbled. "Make it fertile."
"Not possible," Lilith said. "They barely let us build an embassy at the border."
"Ugh, stingy vegan tree-huggers…"
"And don't call them vegans out loud."
The cabinet room doors opened.
Waiting inside:
· Levi, Minister of Foreign Affairs
· Stan, Minister of Defense
· Monny, Minister of Finance & Trade
· Mo', Director of Intelligence & Counter Humanoid‑Intelligence
"Morning," Solo said, sitting as staff poured his coffee. "Alright. Vandoria situation. Go."
Mo' rose, remote in hand. "After weeks of infiltration, two of my agents successfully infiltrated and recruited a local asset, brainwashed him, provided him with improvised explosives, and—well—this is the result."
The screen showed the bombing of Vandoria's royal procession.
BOOOOM!
"Whoaaaa," the room murmured in awe.
"King, queen, crown prince, nobles leader—all eliminated," Mo' said proudly. "This so‑called state‑sponsored terrorism is remarkable, Solo. Cheap, low‑risk, efficient."
"Glad it worked well," Solo said. "Send my regards to your BICHes." (Mo's agents. Obviously.)
"So what's left of Vandoria?" Lilith asked.
"Two royal princes accusing each other, a leaderless nobility, and enough tension for multiple civil wars," Mo' replied cheerfully.
Stan leaned back. "And who do we support?"
"On the surface? None. Under the table? Everyone."
Lilith grinned. "Beautiful."
Monny added, "Don't forget their colonies and vassals, they must have started to smell freedom. Their lands are what make Vandoria rich—grab those."
"Levi?" Solo asked.
Levi nodded with a smile. "I'll befriend them."
Mo' switched slides. "We also discovered Vandorian mages planning to build a waterway across the land bridge—meant to flood our invasion route."
The simulation showed a massive canal.
Lilith whistled. "That's big enough for our ships."
Stan nodded. "Their magic's no joke."
Monny's eyes gleamed. "Hmm, interesting… If that waterway existed, our cargo shipping time would drop massively."
Stan added, "Oh? That means our navy could redeploy faster also."
"And since Vandoria is an explosive keg waiting to blow at any moment, it's better to cut direct access to our new friend, Ravendawn," Levi noted.
"If we allowed international merchants to use it, we could charge tolls," Lilith said with a smile. "We can ask the Ravendawn for joint management."
"They owe us money anyway," Monny muttered. "For the captured ships."
Levi raised a concern. "But when this happened, Vandoria would want a share."
Solo leaned back. "They can't demand shares if they don't have a navy."
Everyone turned to him.
"We're still technically at war, right? Stan—wipe out the rest of their fleet before any ceasefire."
Stan grinned. "Rusalka will be thrilled."
"And let's mass some troops at their border," Solo continued. "Let's encourage the Vandorian to start our canal construction."
Monny smiled. "Fantastic."
Levi moved to the next slide. "Now, Ravendawn. Good news: alliance approved. They'll host several of our bases."
Stan nodded. "Great buffer zone if there's another country that wants to attack us."
"The Crown Prince will rule for two years, then they will transition to parliamentary democracy. Reduces civil war risk, safer for our interests."
"Good job."
"But…" Levi sighed. "Bad news: they're broke. More broke than we can imagine."
Monny screamed. "WHAT?!"
Lilith winced. "Oh boy."
Silence.
Then Solo raised a finger.
"Oh! They can pay with… wait… a free trade agreement!"
"What's that?" Monny asked.
Solo explained tariffs, quotas, cheap goods, and debt leverage.
"Hmm… so whatever resources they sell to us are going to be cheaper?" Monny said.
"Correct. Meanwhile, we can also build whatever infrastructure they, AND WE, need and put it on their tab."
"So they go into massive debt," Lilith said. "Aren't they pretty allergic to debt?"
"Well, they don't really have a choice," Levi said simply. "We are their only friends in the world right now."
Monny nodded slowly. "Their Dawn port will become a goldmine…"
"And they also have oil," Lilith added.
"And farm animals," Solo whispered.
"Tch," Monny responded.
Solo ended the meeting with a final reminder:
"I'm glad that our first war went well. But remember, we're still weak. We only have one fleet, four submarines, a handful of fighter squadrons, and a few hundred tanks. It's enough to crush a kingdom, not enough to fight a continent."
He looked around at his cabinet.
"So we play smart. We pick fights carefully. One battlefield at a time."
Everyone nodded.
"The war against the goddess is only beginning."
Murica wasn't ready for multi-front conflict.
Not yet.