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The moment I said I would sortie, Aylia shouted.

“Restrain him!”
“On it!”
“Okay!”

Big Sis Fern and the others grabbed my shoulders and back, pinning me in place.
Shatina blinked repeatedly, completely unable to follow what was happening.

“U-Um, Lady Aylia, what is this?”

Aylia answered in a tone as though explaining to a child.

“Sir Veit is a fierce general with so many feats of valor that listing them would be tiresome, but each time he accomplishes one, he does something reckless. That is why we are restraining him like this.”

Isn’t that a bit much?

“When have I ever been reckless, Lady Aylia?”
“All the time!”

Everyone’s voices rang out in perfect unison.

But we don’t have time to argue, so I press my case.

“It’s fine. There’s no danger this time.”
“That’s what you always say, Veit.”

Big Sis Fern pushes down harder, and even I can’t break free from her.

“Calm down and listen to me. I possess a spell directly taught by Her Majesty Demon Lord Gomoviroa. With the ‘Arrow Ward’ spell, I can deflect even catapult attacks. I’ll buy time, so evacuate the citizens. I will be in no danger whatsoever.”

Monsa peers at my face from uncomfortably close, looking doubtful.

“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”

I lied.
The Arrow Ward spell can barely handle handheld crossbows. It would likely be almost useless against catapult stones.
But right now, convincing them is what matters.

“There’s no time. Shatina, prepare the most imposing Zarian-style outfit you have. And food.”
“F-Food?”

Shatina’s eyes widen, but there are many other preparations needed.

“And once the city is secured, station the werewolf unit in squads on the rooftops of the northern buildings.”

Now Big Sis Fern looks puzzled.

“What do you want us to do, taking position on the rooftops? We can’t fight from there.”
“It’s fine. Oh, right. Whether it’s Zaria’s or the Demon Lord’s Army’s, raise as many flags as you can find.”

This is going to get busy.

And so I found myself eating at the governor’s mansion.
That doesn’t mean I’m relaxing.
I plan to sortie alone this time. Once I enter the battlefield, there will be no resupply or rest until the battle’s finished.
I can handle physical fatigue with magic, but there’s one crucial element magic can’t do anything about.
Nutrition.

If the protein stored in my body runs low, the effectiveness of healing spells such as regeneration decreases.
If carbohydrates run low, enhancement spells like strength augmentation wear off more quickly.
So I’ll store as much as I can now.
I eat the whole roasted lamb the maids timidly bring. High-quality protein.
In between, I stuff my mouth with assorted fruits. Carbohydrates.
There’s a paste made of stewed beans. Ah, more protein. Looks easy to digest too.
I need to eat more.

“What’s this?”

When I point to a white lump, Shatina’s maid flinches.

“G-Goat cheese.”

Goat cheese. Protein and… calcium!
Excellent. It’ll help if I fracture a bone.

“I’ll take it. Bring more.”
“Y-Yes.”

While I’m preparing so thoroughly, the bystanders whisper carelessly.

“The enemy’s almost here—what’s the captain doing?”
“Carb-loading before battle, apparently.”
“Even then… that’s not a normal amount.”

Old Man Wodd chuckles leisurely.

“Two thousand soldiers are no more than a light warm-up to him. A dependable young man.”
“Really…?”
“Well, compared to killing a Hero, two thousand soldiers hardly count.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”

They just say whatever they like.

Before long, the maids overstep and even bring alcohol.

“W-Wine… and pear liquor.”

Wine. It could replenish carbohydrates, but it burdens the liver. That would negate the enhancement spell I’ve placed on it.
So I politely decline.

“Thank you. But I’ll enjoy it slowly after the battle is over.”
“Y-Yes.”

When the maids retreat nervously, the werewolves start up again.

“Veit’s planning to finish this quickly.”
“It’s the captain we’re talking about, it wouldn’t be surprising.”

I borrow the late governor’s armor and mantle from Shatina. The mantle is embroidered with Zaria’s crest—politically effective as well.
But is it really acceptable for me to borrow this?

“Shatina, are you sure? These are important relics.”

She looks up at me with a serious gaze.

“I want you to avenge my father in his mantle. Teach them the pride and anger of Zaria.”
“Understood. I’ll hammer fear into those dogs of the Senate.”

I got carried with her momentum and accepted it, but that’s a heavy responsibility to bear…

With preparations complete, I perform stretches in the wasteland north of Zaria.
This time, I carefully apply strength enhancement magic gradually to each individual muscle. Endurance and explosive power vary by muscle, so I apply just the right amount to each.
It’s labor-intensive, but it allows prolonged activity without overburdening the body.
I never imagined knowledge from physical education and health programs in my previous life would prove useful like this.
Soleus, trapezius—lend me your strength.

Before long, an army appears over the distant hills.
At a glance, it’s indeed about two thousand strong.
Two thousand sounds like a lot, but if you think of it as twenty storage sheds that can each hold a hundred people, it’s not that impressive. They occupy only a small portion of the vast wasteland.
I can also see several wagons piled with large wooden components. Modular heavy catapults, no doubt.

The large catapults in this world are the kind where everyone pulls ropes to launch stones by manpower. In my previous life, that was called a man… what was it again?
Mandrill? Mandarin?
Eh whatever.
Either way, something like that. I’ve seen similar ones in games.
Because they’re modular, once deployed, they can’t be moved easily. If set up in a poor location, they’re nearly useless.
And to reposition them, you’d have to dismantle them, load them back onto wagons, advance under enemy fire, then assemble them again—extremely troublesome.
That’s just my impression from games, but I imagine reality isn’t too different.
That’s what I’m targeting.

Now then, this is where it begins.
This time, I’ve decided to make use of my bad reputation.
‘The Slayer of Four Hundred.’
‘The Gatebreaker.’
“The Nightmare of Schwelm.”
“The Werewolf Who Bit the Hero to Death.”
‘The Proxy of the Demon Lord.”
“The Man Who Devoured the Demonic Sea.”
Various epithets have spread about me, all of them sounding vicious.
Which means the Miraldia Alliance army advancing toward me must be on high alert.

If so, simply taking a stand here may have some effect.
In any case, I must not let the catapults approach. Force them to deploy as far away as possible and waste their bombardment.
The accompanying infantry’s primary mission is likely urban suppression, but guarding the catapults is also part of their mission.
They don’t want to die in Zaria’s infamous labyrinth either. I doubt they’ll launch a full assault until the city is half-ruined by bombardment.
If that’s the case, I can stall the entire army.
However, the enemy isn’t foolish. Preparations to lower their morale are absolutely necessary.

I release the illusion-mist spell I prepared.
It’s an enhancement spell with illusionary properties, slightly blurring my body with magical mist. It reduces visibility of the caster and lowers the chance of being hit in ranged combat.
That effect is important, but this time the visual impact is my real objective.
For some reason, when I use this spell, it produces an effect like flames.
Visibility is certainly reduced, but it’s far too conspicuous.
Master once said it’s probably because my illusion magic is just that poor.
Seeing I intend to produce mist and create flames instead, I can’t argue.

However, the result is that I am now a black werewolf clad in Zaria’s governor’s armor and mantle, wreathed in purple flames. The villainous aura is overwhelming.
Combined with my reputation, it should be quite terrifying.
I tested it in front of a mirror earlier, and it scared even me, so it should be effective. Though from a distance, it might not be as clear…
Two thousand enemy soldiers are frightening, but I’ll frighten them even more.
Whoever scares the other side more wins.

I cast an amplification spell. In simple terms, it enhances only my voice.
Cranking the volume to maximum, I shout toward the enemy army in the most villainous voice I can muster.

“FUHAHAHA!! Look who brings their toys here!! You wish to fight Zaria, protected by none other than I, veit, Vice Command of the Demon Lord, with such things?!!”

At that instant, the Miraldia Alliance army halts. Their formation wavers slightly.
They’re more shaken than I expected. Their morale may not have been very high to begin with.