ch41 < One side battle part 2 >

**In the Front of the Army…**

Gastar looked around in abject horror. His prized tanks were being tossed around like children's toys by a gargantuan, wolf-like beast. The battlefield was a hellscape of twisted metal and searing flames. The once-mighty war machines lay shattered, their remains strewn across the scorched earth. The Empire's chances of victory had evaporated. The command structure had collapsed, leaving soldiers fleeing in disarray.

"General, we should retreat."

"Yes, or we'll be annihilated."

His aides urged the only sensible course of action. Gastar, however, was frozen in place. Retreating now would mean abandoning the main force, caught between Tempest and Dwargon. Their survival odds would be minuscule.

But that wasn't the sole reason for his hesitation. When pushed to their limits, people's true natures emerge. Gastar's pride and ambition held him captive. Retreating now would mean forgoing any chance of glory and facing disgrace beyond mere demotion.

At that moment, Ultima unleashed her nuclear magic, causing the main airship to erupt in a catastrophic explosion. The sky was torn apart by the blast, and flaming debris rained down, crashing into other airships and spreading chaos.

"Is that—"

"Nuclear Magic?"

"No way. That's a myth, right?"

"Stop arguing. Contact the airships."

"S-Sir, we've lost all contact with the airships."

Realizing the futility, Gastar decided to order a retreat. But his decision came too late.

"I can't allow that, you know. I already gave you a chance to surrender."

A mocking voice cut through the chaos. Gastar turned to see Testarossa, her beauty now starkly contrasted by the devastation around her. He attempted to command his subordinates, but they stood motionless, their eyes blank.

"If you're trying to give them orders, it's futile. They're resting," Testarossa's voice was icy and indifferent.

Gastar spun around, only to find Testarossa standing behind him. The silence was profound—he couldn't even hear the softest heartbeat. His subordinates were dead, their bodies cold and lifeless.

"You... You killed them?"

"Hmm? Oh, I was just a bit hungry."

"Hungry?"

"Yes. So I consumed their souls."

Gastar's heart pounded in terror. The woman before him was no mere human but a demon. Her otherworldly beauty and effortless grace revealed the true depth of her power.

"W-wait. Spare me. I hold high rank in the Empire and possess crucial classified information. Spare me, and I'll be of use to you," Gastar begged, desperation evident. He had heard approaching footsteps—soldiers unlike his own, elite and formidable.

Testarossa sensed them as well and waited. Moments later, three figures emerged from the bushes, their movements precise and deliberate. They surrounded Testarossa and shackled her with chains forged from monster hair and holy silver. Their elite formation and high-quality weapons signaled their top-tier status.

Davis, ranked thirty-eighth, Balt, and sixty-fourth, Gordon. They had played a crucial role in subduing Blanc—now Testarossa—during the Lake Shore Dyed Red Incident.

"I see. So she's an incarcerated demon. This would have been quite troublesome if we weren't here," Davis said, his tone a mix of relief and dread.

"My, if it isn't you guys. You made things quite difficult for me last time; I couldn't even enjoy my meal," Testarossa said, her voice dripping with a sinister edge.

"No way. You're... the Original White?"

"Correct."

"General Gastar, order a retreat immediately."

"Y-Yes."

As Gastar prepared to issue the retreat order, an icy grip tightened around his neck.

"My, I can't allow you to do that. It would go against master's orders. I already told you to surrender."

Gastar's eyes widened in terror as he slumped lifelessly to the ground. His soul had been ripped from him with brutal efficiency.

Davis, Gordon, and Balt were paralyzed with fear. The White Primordial had not only manifested but had also evaded their efforts to restrain her. She had broken free from the anti-demon chains effortlessly.

"Were you waiting for me?" Testarossa's voice cut through their panic, her tone almost conversational.

"M-monster."

"So this is the White Primordial?"

"Can you not call me the Original White or the White Primordial? I have a name—Testarossa. I'd appreciate it if you used it."

"A name?"

"N-no way."

"Not only incarcerated but also named?"

"Retreat. We must inform the Emperor. Gordon, prepare a warp portal," Davis ordered, his voice strained. The realization that they were facing two Primordial demons, each terrifyingly powerful, was overwhelming. He hoped someone from the single digits might have a chance.

"That's right. I'll fight her," Balt declared, but as he turned to face Testarossa, a wave of dread overwhelmed him.

"Wh-where did she go?"

"Did you really think you had a chance?"

Testarossa's voice came from everywhere as she seized Balt's soul. His body crumpled to the ground, his face frozen in a mask of abject terror.

"Well then, let me savor this moment a bit longer," Testarossa said.

A familiar voice cut through the horror.

"You're still not finished, Testarossa?" A playful voice echoed.

"Ara, Ultima. You're certainly enjoying yourself."

"Rimuru-sama told us to go all out, didn't he? If you take too long, he might get annoyed."

"I know. I just got a bit nostalgic with some old friends."

"I don't care. Just finish up already."

Gordon, struggling to activate the warp portal, collapsed in anguished sobs. Davis fought to hold back his tears, but the realization that they were facing two Primordial demons was crushing. The futility of their resistance was evident.

"Fine. Here you go. Good luck. If you're lucky, you might survive."

Testarossa said as she crushed an abyss core to activate Death Streak, a spell with an abysmally low survival rate. It annihilated all living beings within a 500-meter radius. Testarossa's precision ensured no enemies survived. Had she used her full power, the radius could have expanded to five kilometers.

The forest fell into an oppressive silence. The air was thick with the stench of death and destruction. The once-bustling forest was now a desolate graveyard, littered with the wreckage of tanks and the absence of all life. The cries of the dying quickly faded, replaced by an eerie stillness. The forest, once vibrant with life, now lay in ruins, a silent testament to the devastation wrought by the Primordial demons.

Meanwhile, far from the battlefield, Karna watched all of it in live monitor.

Testarossa really became a demoness in battlefield.

The war had taken a dark turn, and he could only hope that amidst the bloodshed, testa would return to him safe and unharmed.

He is still afraid that the unknown might harm Testarossa.