A New Land
It had been three days since they captured some unfamiliar city.
Inside the city, the atmosphere was tense—and of course it would be. After all, their slaves had been taken.
However, aside from losing their slaves, there was no other damagician. Throughout history, lands occupied in war had always faced misery, as looting and abuse were practically the default.
But the Arland army was different. They had taken the slaves, but the citizens had not been robbed of anything else.
The reason lay in Arland’s military code. The Arland army was not meant for foreign campaigns—it was essentially a force for national defense, and most of its operations took place within its own borders. Even when it ventured outside, it was usually only into the uninhabited northern wastelands.
In other words, foreign invasions were not something they ever planned for.
Because of this, the Arland military code made looting and abuse punishable by death. Why? Because if their troops were sent to a land with people in it, it was considered the same as putting down a rebellion within Arland itself. The royal family would never permit their soldiers to rob their own citizens—such actions would only earn their hatred.
Incidentally, when it came to Imperial forces invading the kingdom, the rules allowed them to do whatever they wanted in return. The invaders were stripped of all human rights; whether they were massacred or enslaved was entirely at the captor’s discretion. That said, Arlandians generally did not favor mass killings—there was no profit in it. Instead, captives almost always became slaves.
This way, those who caught them could vent their anger on the invaders’ future as slaves while also making money. Merchants and nobles who bought them gained cheap labor, so everyone was happy. And the slaves? Well, the common view was simply: “They invaded, so it’s their own fault.” In Arland, excuses like “We were just following orders” were never heard.
Because of this, while there was resentment, the local citizens remained quiet in the face of Alicetia’s army. The lord? He was still crying in his cell.
Alicetia’s forces had not only freed the slaves—they had also confiscated the assets of the nobles and the Imperial government in this city.
It was thorough. Even the hinges from the doors and the glass panes of Imperial-owned buildings were stripped away.
“Mm-hm, we’re gathering a nice pile of metal.”
The clones looked with satisfaction at the growing heap of scrap.
Once enough had been collected, they used Factory to smelt it into ingots, then carried them into the treasury.
“Forklifts really are convenient.”
“True, but even though we made them, we can’t operate them. Kazu’s the useful one here.”
It was Kazuhito who was driving the forklift, a skill he’d apparently picked up working part-time. He didn’t have a license, though.
“Princess, it seems neighboring nobles have sent reinforcements.”
“That was fast.”
It had only been three days since the occupation—much too soon.
“Apparently, losing this land would cause the surrounding nobles a great deal of trouble.
The number is an estimate, but about 200.”
The clone thought for a moment, then asked a knight:
“Isn’t that a bit few?”
“I thought so as well, so I brought the lord here.”
They sat the bound lord down before the clone and removed the gag from his mouth.
“Do you think you can beat me with just 200 men?”
“How should I know! I was captured before I could even send for reinforcements!”
The lord and his family had been seized in a surprise attack, leaving no time to call for help.
“They probably sent whatever troops they could immediately muster as a vanguard. I expect there’s a follow-up force.”
“Isn’t piecemeal deployment a bad idea…?”
Sounds like nothing but a recipe for defeat, the clone remarked, and the knight chuckled. The 200 soldiers were a hastily assembled noble levy, not Imperial regulars, and far less well-trained.
With these numbers, even the 100 knights of Alicetia’s force could wipe them out.
“Shall we go scatter them ourselves?”
The knight, fully aware of this, posed the question—but the clone shook her head.
“I can’t allow the kingdom’s proud knights to be injured by some noble’s private army. Let’s send in the Woofers Squad instead. Please, Mr. Coote.”
Coote nodded and led the other monsters into battle. Within about an hour, the enemy was annihilated.
After that, the clone deployed the Golem Legion to crush the 700 soldiers of the trailing force.
“Imperial nobles are so kind. They’ve given us food, medicine, and metal.”
“For greedy enemy nobles, that’s surprisingly generous.”
Takuto agreed with the clone’s words—not that he cared what happened to Imperials.
Using the golems and knights, the clone stripped supplies from the defeated noble forces and buried the bodies in a single location.
“Princess, there seems to be a riot in the Domain Capital.”
Just as they were about to return to the occupied city, the locals—thinking Alicetia was gone—had started a riot.
This was entirely predictable. In fact, the clone had deliberately evacuated everyone from the capital for this very reason.
There was nothing left to take from this city—only cleanup remained.
“If they choose to oppose us, so be it.”
The clone pressed a button on a skull-marked remote.
All around, explosions ripped through the city walls, which began to collapse.
Her objective wasn’t over yet. This invasion’s purpose was to weaken the Empire’s national strength and sow chaos within it.
The Domain Capital wasn’t particularly large, but it held influence over the surrounding territories and stood as a symbol of Imperial rule. The land itself had once belonged to a nation destroyed by the Empire. Many here harbored resentment toward Imperial rule, though over a century had passed since their conquest. That former nation had also been human-supremacist, so they weren’t exactly allies to Alicetia—they merely saw her as another oppressor, replacing the Empire they hated.
The enemy of one’s enemy was not automatically a friend. That was why, sensing an opportunity, some decided to try reclaiming their independence.
Too naïve—their plans had already been anticipated.
“Now the Empire will have to put down the rebellion. Even if they succeed, the capital’s walls are gone. Those rebels must be turning pale about now.”
Likely, they had intended to use the city walls as a defensive stronghold against a weakened Empire. Alicetia’s knights had deliberately spread rumors within the city that the Empire had lost more than half its army in the war with Arland.
But without walls, the rebels would have to fight a desperate defensive battle. The Empire would never tolerate rebellion—allowing it would risk sparking uprisings in other forcibly annexed lands.
The coming clash between the Empire and the would-be independents would drag down the entire region’s economy. Combined with their loss in the war with Arland, the Empire would be left with nothing but tears.
“How ruthless.”
Takuto spoke as he watched the walls crumble. His expression was blank, without the slightest hint of sympathy.
"The Empire’s confusion works to Arland’s advantage. The surrounding nations—especially the Magic Kingdom and the Imperial State—won’t just sit by and watch a destabilized Empire.
Those two are as greedy as the Empire itself. And with this level of defeat, the Empire could recover if it gets help from them. If that happens, the Magic Kingdom and the Imperial State will make full use of the favor they’ve earned to push the Empire into attacking Arland again.”
The blame for this chaos would be placed entirely on Arland. The Empire’s people would be rallied to reclaim their pride and once again march on Arland.
Of course, losing was never in the plan. The Grisaille Project had already begun. The Empire, the Magic Kingdom, and the Imperial State—all could be reduced to scorched earth.
However, that was the last resort.
The clones were independent, but they were still a copy of the original. The clones would not desire something the original did not wish for.
There were still many other races living in the central continent. In Alicetia’s mind, they were innocent. She did not wish to drag them into it. The Grisaille Project existed only as insurance, a last resort. If this invasion ended in success, it would be buried in darkness, erased from history, along with everything created for it—unknown even to Arland itself.
That was only natural for an ultimate weapon that could never be revealed. The biggest uncertainty was whether they could deceive Gilbert. The name “Grisaille Project” had already been leaked to the nobles who had remained in the kingdom, and Gilbert would be the first to latch onto such a dangerous undertaking.
(Well, if the original just plays dead, that’s an easy win.)
The clone, like the original, was optimistic. If worst came to worst, they could simply destroy all the evidence. As for the dangerous weapons that had been created, in the worst case they could just send them to another world via dimensional transfer. What if they got used in that other world? That wouldn’t be their problem. And while the principle was the same as Earth’s, they had lavishly used magical technology, so even on Earth it would be difficult to set them off. At most, someone could dismantle them to learn the technology—if they could.
When all was said and done, the Alicetia Army resumed its mysterious, aimless march.
However, a problem had arisen—the clones were starting to disappear.
From the beginning, clones consumed mana just by existing, and were destined to vanish sooner or later. And the original was inside a single Heidecker-model bus.
“Zzz…”
Alicetia slept, hooked up to life-support equipment. Her body was still so weakened that she could not breathe on her own.
However, thanks to the medical techniques the clones possessed and the medicines the original had made to pass the time, her recovery was progressing steadily, and before long she would be able to breathe on her own again.
“She’s going to recover, right, Princess?”
Usually Alicia would be here, holding the original Alicetia’s hand. Takuto and the knights weren’t allowed in. This place had, in a sense, become Alicia’s domain.
“Her heartbeat and blood pressure are stable. No problem.”
The clone stationed here, dressed in a doctor’s cosplay, stroked her fake beard as she reassured her.
But then another clone—the one in charge of moving the army—entered.
“She looks alright?”
The doctor clone nodded.
“Her progress is good. It’s about time we do it.”
“I see. Then let’s begin.”
The clone produced a rope—one enchanted with magic.
It slithered to life and bound Alicia.
“P-Princess?!”
“Just stay quiet for a while.”
Placing her hand on Alicetia’s chest, the clone began to chant a spell.
The original’s body suddenly jerked.
“What are you doing?!”
“What do you think? We’re making more of us. Hurry up and start chanting.”
The clone acted as a substitute for the original’s damaged mana circuits. The sleeping Alicetia began to chant, almost like singing.
When the chant ended, around ten new clones appeared.
An alarm-like sound rang through the air.
“That’s as far as we can go. The original will die otherwise… actually, her pulse is already weakening.”
“Give her a cardiac stimulant. That’s enough for today. Alicia, you’re free to go.”
The magic rope released Alicia and returned to the clone’s hand.
Alicia rushed to Alicetia’s side and grasped her hand, looking as if she might cry.
“… Is this really necessary?”
“Of course it’s necessary. Right now it’s impossible to seal the Spirit King’s crest. It rejects any external interference. And since we’re essentially lumps of the original’s mana, we become foreign objects once separated from her.”
Creating clones put a heavy burden on Alicetia’s already weakened body. But if they didn’t forcibly create them, her body would continue to absorb mana from the surroundings forever. For now, she hadn’t reached her limit, but being human meant that one day she inevitably would. And on top of that, Alicetia had the problem of having far more mana than she could control.
Many magicians dreamed of having abundant mana. But the more mana one had, the harder it was to control. That was why magic was ranked—lower, intermediate, upper, tactical, and strategic—primarily by the amount of mana it consumed. The more mana a spell required, the harder it was to use.
Clones were around the intermediate level, but they consumed a lot of mana—and they were also an increase in fighting strength.
“Besides, the original won’t be waking up for a while.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re rebuilding her mana circuits… no, we’re making entirely new ones from scratch. If she were awake, she’d probably go insane. It’ll feel like worms crawling through her body all day for about two months.”
Her mana circuits were completely destroyed, beyond recognition. For a magician, that normally meant death. Repair should have been impossible—but that was simply because the technique didn’t exist anymore. In truth, during the Ancient Magic Dynasty, it had been commonplace. Alicetia wouldn’t learn this for some time yet.
“With this technology, we could mass-produce magicians, you know.”
“What?!”
The clone left, chuckling darkly.
If they applied this secret art to anyone with sufficient mana, they could create a magician. But the research had been done by the Lost Numbers, and the clone who had developed it was already gone. No one knew what their motive had been—likely just curiosity. If the Magic Kingdom, or any other nation, learned of it, every country on the continent would invade Arland to seize Alicetia.
Having learned such a terrible secret, Alicia felt a sharp pain in her stomach.
And so the Alicetia Army set off again toward an unknown target. Not even the soldiers, nor the commanding clones, knew where they were going—because they had immediately left the main road. When Takuto, driving, asked why they weren’t following it, the clone replied, “My soul says this way.”
It turned out to be a lucky decision. Following that road straight would have led them to the Imperial Capital, just as the Imperial Army was returning there.
What do you think about this chapter?
