Apology
“You’re the one responsible for this defeat, aren’t you? Get on your knees.”
I stomped on the fallen Emperor’s head. Now then, how should I make this old man pay?
First of all, I’ll etch it into history that he was the worst Emperor the Empire ever had. Congratulations, old man—you’ll go down in history. Don’t complain. Rulers are usually the kind of creatures that crave having their names remembered, right?
“Y-you cur—!”
“Silence.”
One of the imperial knights flushed red and rushed at me, but I drew the revolver at my hip and shot him in the thigh. I had to act the part of the cold-blooded victor. I couldn’t afford to show any mercy here. If I acted like I usually did, they’d take me lightly. I had to behave as if I were arrogant.
“Guh…”
“What’s with you lot carrying weapons when you’ve already lost? Drop them. All of you. Anyone who isn’t disarmed in the next ten seconds will be killed.”
I fired a shot into the ceiling, and the panicked imperial soldiers dropped their swords and spears in a clatter. Honestly, losers like them should have been disarmed already.
While kicking the beaten Emperor, I waited ten seconds. Looks like they all gave up their weapons.
“You accept unconditional surrender, don’t you?”
I asked again, pressing my foot into the Emperor’s head.
“Guh… If you take my life, my Empire will fall into chaos, and it won’t become yours. Leave me alive, and I’ll help you rule!”
“…...”
I blanked out at his words, then glanced at the Arland knights. They were just as dumbfounded.
We weren’t even operating on the same premise. For them, war was a tool for territorial expansion. Naturally, they assumed victory meant annexing land, and acted accordingly—cutting deals with enemy nobles and the like. Of course, once the conquest was done, even the collaborating nobles would be disposed of. The Multispecies Federation had done the same, executing royal families that colluded with the Empire after their kingdoms were crushed. Traitors had no place on either side.
But me? I was different. I wouldn’t deny that I might take a bit of land—after all, there are ruins along the border that used to be my father’s homeland. Still, those borderlands are basically a wasteland, uninhabited because it’s been a battlefield for generations. Nobody lives there.
So maybe I’d take that much. But the Empire itself? I didn’t need it.
Conquering the Empire would only mean Arland’s downfall. The Empire’s citizens would never welcome Arland’s rule. Quite the opposite—they’d resist. To them, Arland is nothing but barbarians, traitors who consort with other races. Rebellion would be inevitable.
And when the Empire descended into chaos, Arland would have no choice but to send soldiers to suppress it. Once taken, it couldn’t be let go.
The damage would far exceed any of the small-scale clashes we’d had before. Rebellions would flare up across the Empire’s vast lands, grinding Arland’s forces down to nothing. The kingdom couldn’t bear the cost.
Worse still, Arland’s enemies would seize the chance to strike from all four sides. Already weakened, with nearly half its strength lost, Arland would be forced to abandon imperial territory. And if that happened, internal resentment would explode: Why did we spill our blood to take the Empire, only to throw it away? The blame would be immense.
That’s why we must never seize the Empire.
“You’re misunderstanding something. Trash like you is worthless to Arland. The Empire isn’t even worth ruling.”
My words made every imperial present turn red with rage. I had just told them they had no value.
Well, that was a lie. The Empire did have value—as a time bomb, to stall the Central Nations’ invasion of Arland.
First things first: the Emperor had to be executed. Not even a hundred trials could overturn that. Arland’s law was clear: any royals, nobles, or high-ranking officers who led an invasion into Arland were to be executed. The only thing a trial could decide was whether torture was to be applied beforehand. At best, the sentence could be reduced—but to death all the same.
The Empire would, of course, collapse into ruin. With its rule broken, the factions it had held down by force would rise up—the independence movements.
The Granzur Empire had grown into a great power through relentless invasion since its founding. It looked solid on the surface, but like the Soviet Union, that unity came only from a strong central government. The moment a crack appeared, the whole thing would fracture. A rock that looks unbreakable can shatter with a single fissure.
And with the Emperor gone, the Empire’s favorite pastime—the succession struggle—would ignite. The crown prince was already dangling in Arland’s capital. No legitimate heir remained. The Emperor hadn’t named a new one. And with the upper ranks of the military purged, the surviving royals would tear each other apart. This time, it wouldn’t be a tepid succession dispute. Having lost so utterly to Arland, some factions would demand a strong emperor, others would demand one who favored their own interests, still others would try to form their own states or reclaim their ancestral lands. Civil war was inevitable.
And that, in turn, was the only way Arland could survive.
“Sorry, but the Empire has to die. Most of you are criminals anyway—illegal invaders of Arland’s territory. By the kingdom’s law, that’s a capital crime. And I’ll carry out that law.
Naturally, the Empire will fall into chaos. But that’s exactly what I want. Don’t you think it’ll be glorious to watch a once-great empire that dominated the continent destroy itself in disgrace?”
Not that my true motive was just amusement. Sure, venting my anger a little felt good, but no amount of blood could bring the fallen soldiers back. They’d been gone too long. Resurrection only worked right after death—once a soul had risen to the heavens, it was impossible. If it were my family, maybe I’d risk storming the heavens to snatch their souls back. But for the soldiers? No. That would mean opposing the Goddess, the Demon King, and Teth. I’d lose. At best, I could drag them down with me by unleashing the Spirit King’s power in a suicidal burst.
But to get back on track: right now, anyone invading Arland would need to pass through the Empire. Ostland was technically another path, but the terrain was hellish. Its army was weak, but its geography was strong—mountains forming natural borders. Going through Ostland would cause heavy losses. Better to go through the Empire.
But if the Empire collapsed into chaos, no army could march through. The continent would plunge into a warring-states era, with every faction fighting for itself. Until the Empire stabilized, the Central Nations Alliance couldn’t send troops against Arland.
Airships? They’d be nothing but prey for our armed skyships. The old wooden vessels didn’t stand a chance against full-metal warships with superior range and speed. They’d be slaughtered.
The more the Empire unraveled, the more time Arland gained. Time to rebuild its exhausted economy, to reduce its reliance on me, to finish the factories that would give it the technology to face the whole world.
Just five years. With five years, Arland would have the strength to fight every nation on the continent.
Arland could only survive with overwhelming technology. With that, it could develop efficiently, reverse its position, and unite the allied nations into an economic bloc that could rival the Central Alliance. All we needed was for the Empire to fall apart.
“Now then, let’s have the Emperor himself defile the proud history of his empire. The allied soldiers want you on your knees, apologizing for everything the Empire’s done.”
“You expect me to apologize?!”
The Empire’s pride was its history of victories. That was how it had built its hegemony. For the Emperor himself, the symbol of that pride, to kneel and beg forgiveness—it was the ultimate humiliation.
I grabbed the squirming old man’s head. But then, a hand touched my shoulder.
“I’ll handle him.”
Takuto volunteered to drag the Emperor out.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. No need for you to touch this old geezer.”
With that, he grabbed the Emperor by the legs and dragged him away. To be honest, every imperial here looked alien—bald as eggs, no hair, no eyebrows, no beards. The nobles had dead-fish eyes, their will broken. The maids were weeping. All thanks to the industrial waste effect.
They were too scared to even ask for their hair back. Don’t look at me with those pleading eyes. You’ll live the rest of your lives bald.
I didn’t know it then, but this would later be remembered as the Great Baldening of the Empire incident. Not only did the war leave the Empire’s finances “bald” from crushing debt, but baldness literally spread through the capital, creating chaos in two senses.
“I brought him.”
Takuto dumped the Emperor like a sack of trash.
“Guh! Y-you dare show such disrespec—Ghah!”
Annoyed, Takuto silenced him with a yakuza-style kick to the gut.
“Now then. Get on your knees and beg.”
“Never!”
“… What should we do with him?”
Even now, he clung to his pride. Fitting, in a way. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Shall we lop off an ear?”
“Takuto, you’ve gotten scarier since I last saw you.”
He was a bit more extreme these days. Maybe just my imagination.
In the end, we decided to let the allied soldiers take turns kicking the Emperor until he begged for it himself. Call it a lynching, if you want. They kicked without expression, careful not to kill him, careful not to leave lasting injuries. Their hatred ran deep.
After about an hour, the Emperor broke.
“I… as Emperor of the Granzur Empire… admit that my nation has brought suffering… to many nations and their people through our actions… and I… apologize…”
Broken, in tears, the Emperor mumbled his apology. Looking around, no one showed sympathy. Of course not. Their countries had been destroyed, their comrades stolen, their pride trampled. No apology could forgive that.
But their lingering regrets weakened. Their resentment eased.
“We need a commemorative photo. Everyone, raise your flags.”
Not yet. They weren’t ready to fade away just yet. I gave instructions, and the fading soldiers grew solid again.
We dragged the Emperor to the castle square. Their flags were raised, and I set fire to the imperial banner with a quick Fireball.
The flag crackled and burned. Alicia held the camera while the representatives and I posed with a thumbs-up, commemorating the fall of the capital.
“Feeling a little better? Your brave fight, the fact that even in death you struck back against the Empire—this will go down in history. I’ll make sure of it.
Your pride will live on into the future, together with proof that you lived with wisdom.”
I’d have the photo copied and spread all over Arland. That way, their support would be remembered.
They had no homelands left, no families to return to. But Arland, and I, would celebrate their victory.
The heroic spirits wept quietly. Yes… to have someone to share joy with was precious. Everyone wanted that. Better to laugh together than alone. They had lived in different eras, unknown to each other, but they fought together, and they won together.
They turned to me, bowed their heads, and faded away. Looking around, the entire coalition army had vanished. It seemed they’d finally found peace.
“Alright. I’m exhausted. Let’s take over the guest palace and get some rest.”
The Emperor? I left him there. He’d crawl back on his own. The gates were under my Golem Legion, and teleportation and flight barriers covered the city. The spirits had sealed the underground passages too. There was no escape.
That night, some imperial soldiers, driven by humiliation, attacked the guest palace. Around 400 of them—mostly high-ranking officers facing trial as war criminals.
But in the morning, I found Mr. Coote dangling from a tree branch by his tail, caked in mud, snoring away. For some reason, Takuto was holding my hand, while Alicia stood over him with a kukri pressed to his neck, her face utterly expressionless.
Helios was crouched in the corner, trembling.
And the would-be attackers? They’d been piled up like trash. The knights must’ve worked hard… Wait, no? Then who made this garbage heap?
What do you think about this chapter?
