May 1.
Avalon's western coast, Midsummer County.
The war was about to begin, and the armies of every nation had gathered here. The fervor of the past had gradually cooled, while a tense, oppressive atmosphere spread through the surroundings.
Although last night's emergency Promotion Ritual had been an absolute bargain in terms of exchange rate—using an average exchange ratio of less than 1:2 to raise nearly half of his soldiers by one level—from any perspective, it had been profitable. Not merely profitable, but wildly so.
—But in truth, the voices coming from inside the legions' encampments said otherwise.
Their chances of victory had risen sharply, yet an inexplicable panic had begun to spread instead.
The reason was that strength—or the lack of it—was not particularly obvious until the fighting actually began. Yet the soldiers could clearly see their companions and comrades suffering mass casualties. This war, in particular, carried the faint air of "one-way travel," and some people had begun condemning those who withdrew from the war because of their injuries.
—Could it be that some of them had deliberately joined the Promotion Ritual, using their injuries to avoid the war?
After all, the country where the demons had descended was the Stibium Kingdom, not their own.
Few people were willing to risk their lives to save the people of another country—not to mention that quite a few of them had been enemies of Stibium until recently.
The Iris Flower Kingdom had long faced oppression and threats from Stibium. Although no war had broken out, pressure on the economic, political, and other fronts had continued for many years.
Not to mention that Narcissus and Black Eagle had only recently broken away from Stibium. Avalon needed no explanation either—every hot-blooded young person still remembered the royal family being cursed and the