Iriel stared at him for a long time.
She looked at his hoodie, then at the golden light reflecting off the windows, and finally at the absolute, terrifying confidence in his posture.
She didn't have the strength to hurt him.
She didn't even have the strength to argue anymore.
After getting Beaten Twice, Iriel finally had some Reason knocked into her Physically.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and sat in a chair across from him, her spear leaning against her shoulder.
"Fine," she hissed through clenched teeth.
"If you're going to act like a King, then listen to the state of your kingdom."
"Although I have no interest in being a mere king but go on."
I said casually.
Iriel ignored him and pulled a series of parchment maps and tally stones across the table.
Her voice shifted into a rhythmic, military monotone—the voice of a woman who had spent twenty years counting the cost of survival.
Personnel & Deployment:
Total Garrison: 120,000 active combatants.
Mage Corps: 25,000. These are our most precious and most fragile assets.
They maintain the Barrier Shift, but their mana circuits are frayed. 60% are suffering from Mana-Back flow syndrome due to the ashen atmosphere.
Warriors & Shielders: 75,000.
These men are the hull of the fortress.
Their armor is recycled from the fallen, and their shields are thin.
Archers: 15,000.
Effective for suppressing the "Flying Units," but we are out of enchanted arrows.
Porters & Support: 5,000.
These are civilians and the wounded who can still move.
They handle the shift logistics.
Logistics & Sustainability:
Food Reserves: Critical.
We have enough for 48 hours at half-rations.
The soldiers are currently eating a mixture of sawdust and dried moss to stay full.
Without your "biscuits," the first riots would have started by Tuesday.
Water & Holy Energy: The wells are tainted by the Grey Ash.
Our Holy Water supply was at 5% capacity before your tank arrived.
We need that purity to cleanse the "Corruption" that turns our men into mud.
Weaponry & Equipment: Dire.
The Black Calamity's ink is corrosive.
It eats through steel in hours.
We have enough functional blades and spearheads for 10 days of combat.
After that, we'll be fighting with sharpened wooden stakes and bare hands.
III. The Tactical Wall: "We operate on a 8-hour rotation,"
Iriel concluded, her voice low.
"But the soldiers aren't recovering.
The Ashen Earth is causing great hindrance to recovery and promotes diseases.
It prevents deep sleep.
It feels like someone is watching you, even in the dark.
Our men are fighting ghosts while they're awake and nightmares while they're asleep.
We are a fortress of the walking dead, Hero.
That ball of light you threw…
it's the only thing that kept 10,000 men from throwing themselves off the battlements tonight."
Mu Zhong listened, his mind already cross-referencing this data with his earlier Analysis.
He didn't show it, but the "120,000 soldiers" figure impressed him.
For a world this broken to maintain such a disciplined force was a testament to Iriel's brutal, effective leadership.
After all, I never thought that so many people would band together to resist.
But it is most likely the avengers doing their best instead.
"25,000 mages," Mu Zhong muttered, tapping his chin.
"If I give them the Holy Water and a few mana-recovery biscuits, how long until they can cast a High-Tier purification spell?"
Iriel looked at him, a spark of hope—the first one in years—flickering in her eyes.
"With that 99% purity water?
They could do it in six hours.
But it would be a waste if the Darkness just comes back the moment the spell ends."
"It won't come back,"
Mu Zhong said, standing up.
"I'm going to find the source.
But first, get your men fed.
A Hero who leads a starving army is just a fool leading a funeral."
Clara immediately hugged his arm, her face lighting up.
Mu Zhong smiled down at her, the "Indifferent God" persona vanishing for a brief second to ensure the "Baby" felt his warmth.
"Let's get to work, General.
We have forty minutes of daylight left, and I want this fortress smelling like actual food again."
The heavy silence that followed Iriel's report was finally broken by the sound of Mu Zhong's sneakers clicking against the stone floor as he stood up.
He walked to the wide, ashen window overlooking the golden-scorched earth he had created, his hands still deep in his pockets as he analyzed the Landscape…
"The strategy is simple,"
he said, his back to the room.
"All you have to do is defend this fortress.
I will take care of the Demon King myself.
You don't need to worry about anything else."
Iriel's forehead had several Tic's appearing, her grip on her spear tightening.
Beside her, Clara looked up at Mu Zhong with big, doe-like eyes, her lips trembling slightly.
It was one of the Legion Captains—a battle-scarred veteran with a missing ear—who finally spoke up, his voice raspy with newfound respect.
"Sir Hero... let us at least fight alongside you.
We've waited many years for a chance to strike back.
You've given us the first victory we've ever seen, and you've fed our men.
We don't mind your... antics.
We just want to help."
Mu Zhong turned his head slightly, catching the sight of Clara's growing pout.
Oh I am really too soft sometimes.
He let out a long, weary sigh.
"Even if I wanted you to help, you simply cannot.
You would be a hindrance, nothing more.
From what my analysis has shown, the current Demon King's power has already reached SSS-Rank.
In the normal scales, that's a Half-God.
He could be termed the strongest of the Lesser Angels in Heaven.
None of you can even get close to the shock-waves of our fight without becoming absolute collateral.
You'd be dead before I even drew a weapon.
Not to mention he is now the Evil of the World.
This means that he has a special attribute thing called Anti-Life and Anti-Human Attribute.
Meaning all Life and Humans get special damage from him.
Even more so when there are still corrosive abilities of the Evil of the World itself.
This many attributes will make Humans unable to even enter the battle."