Under Ethan’s command and his presence on the battlefield, the soldiers showed high morale and strong determination. His strength and the way he fought at the front gave confidence to the troops, and many of them followed his lead without hesitation.

Because of this, the army achieved one victory after another.Enemy strongholds were broken.

Valleys were cleared and supply routes were secured.

Each report that went back to the capital painted a picture of steady progress, and to those reading it from afar, it looked like the war was moving in a favorable direction.

But that was only on paper.

The reality on the battlefield was completely different.Every victory came at a cost.Thousands of knights were dying.

Every single day, new bodies were carried away, and the smell of blood never truly left the air. Even when the battlefield grew quiet, that silence only made the loss feel heavier.

Ethan stood at the center of all this, and even though he had seen death before, this scale was something else entirely.

He would not lie to himself.

It terrified him.

The sheer number of deaths was overwhelming.

Even for him who had seen enough death can’t compare to the number of people that were dying everyday.

If his estimation was correct, more than a million lives had already been lost on their side alone since the beginning of the war.

That number was not just statistics on paper.

It was people and soldiers who had stood beside each other, fought together, and then disappeared in a single clash.

And this was only the number under his operational range.

There were many other battlefronts.

Other commanders.

Other armies.

God knew how many had died in total.

To maintain the war, more troops were constantly being sent in as reinforcements, and new soldiers arrived even before the old ones were properly mourned.

It felt like an endless loop.

Arcadia’s population might reach close to five billion or more , and compared to that, few million might seem small on paper, but Ethan knew better.

That "small number" represented a mountain of corpses.

And it kept growing.

Even as victories were recorded, the cost behind them was becoming heavier with each passing day, and the line between success and loss was slowly blurring.

Ethan stood on the edge of a newly secured area, and his gaze moved across the land that had just been taken.

The ground was still stained.

The air still carried traces of battle.

From a distance, it looked like another victory.

But standing there, he could only feel the weight behind it.

"Where is this going..." he murmured quietly.

No one answered.

Because no one knew.

Far away from the human frontlines, deep within a barren region where even the wind seemed reluctant to pass, a secret meeting was taking place under a veil of silence and caution.

The location was hidden between jagged mountains, and thick grey fog covered the valley while ancient runes carved into the ground emitted a faint and steady glow. The air felt heavy, and there was a strange stillness as if the land itself was listening.

At the center stood a wide stone platform, worn by time but still intact, and upon it two sides faced each other without rushing into words.

On one side stood the orc representative.

He was not built like the usual warriors of his race, and although his frame was tall, it lacked the overwhelming bulk of frontline fighters. Long, aged hair cascaded down his back, pale against his dark green skin, and faint tribal patterns glowed softly along his arms.

He held a wooden staff in one hand, and despite his calm posture, his presence carried a quiet authority.

An Orc Shaman.

Behind him stood several massive orc warriors, silent and watchful, and their heavy breathing was the only sound from that side.

Opposite them stood the demon representative.

A white-haired man, calm and composed, with an expression that revealed nothing unnecessary. His posture was relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that made it clear he was measuring everything around him.

Two cloaked figures stood behind him, their presence subdued but dangerous.

For a moment, neither side spoke, and both simply observed the other carefully.

Then the shaman moved his staff slightly, and the faint sound it made against the stone broke the silence.

"The battlefield is already burning," he said, his voice slow and steady, while his eyes remained fixed on the white-haired man. "Yet you choose to come here instead of joining the fight."

His tone was calm, but there was a hint of scrutiny in it.

The white-haired man did not answer immediately, and he took a few slow steps forward before speaking.

"Because not every battle is decided on the battlefield," he replied in an even tone. "Some are decided before the armies even meet."

The shaman narrowed his eyes slightly, and the runes beneath his feet flickered faintly.

"You speak quite well," he said. "Like a sneaky bastard."

The white-haired man gave a faint, almost polite smile.

"Planning prevents unnecessary losses," he said. "And right now, losses are something neither of us can afford."

The words lingered between them.

The shaman tapped his staff lightly against the ground, and a low ripple spread through the runic circle.

"You came for something specific," he said. "So speak clearly."

The white-haired man nodded once.

"We want cooperation," he said, and his voice remained calm but direct. "A temporary alliance."

The orc warriors behind the shaman shifted slightly, and a low murmur passed through them, but the shaman did not react immediately.

Instead, he studied the man in front of him carefully.

"Demons do not usually ask for alliances," he said after a moment.

"That is true," the white-haired man replied without hesitation. "But taking without thought leads to waste, and this war is already costing too much."

He paused briefly and then continued.

"The humans are not as weak as expected, and their commanders are adapting faster than anticipated. If this continues, the war will drag on longer than it should."

The shaman’s expression remained unchanged, but his grip on the staff tightened slightly.

"We have seen the same," he said. "Their advance has not slowed."

"That is exactly why we are here," the white-haired man said.

He stepped closer, and his voice lowered slightly.

"If we attack them from multiple directions at the same time, we force them to divide their strength, and when that happens, their coordination breaks."

The shaman listened without interrupting.

"You want us to strike from another front," he said.

"Yes," the white-haired man replied. "While they focus on one side, the other collapses under pressure."

The explanation was simple, but the intent behind it was clear.

The shaman remained silent for a while, and his gaze shifted slightly as if weighing the situation carefully.

"And what do we gain from this?" he asked finally.

The white-haired man did not hesitate.

"You gain territory and resources," he said. "And more importantly, you gain room to expand without interference while the humans are occupied elsewhere."

The shaman’s lips curved slightly, though it was not quite a smile.

"You speak as if the outcome is already decided," he said.

"I am speaking based on what we have observed," the white-haired man replied calmly.

"And on what will happen if nothing changes."

The shaman let out a slow breath, and the faint glow of the runes brightened slightly.

"This is not trust," he said. "This is convenient."

"That is enough for now," the white-haired man answered.

Another silence followed, longer this time, and the tension between the two sides remained steady but controlled.

Then the shaman lifted his staff and struck it against the ground.

THUD!

The runes flared brighter for a moment.

"...Very well," he said.

His voice carried finality.

"We will move, but we move as equals."

The white-haired man gave a slight nod.

"That was always the intention."

The shaman’s eyes sharpened.

"Do not mistake cooperation for submission," he added.

"I wouldn’t," the white-haired man replied.

The agreement was made without further words.

And far away, where the human army believed they were gaining ground, the shape of the war was already beginning to change.

.......

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