The Personal Pressure

The sky over the outer perimeter was gray and cold, as if autumn had exhausted itself unnoticed. Pale sunlight filtered through thick clouds, casting light on the Organization's flags standing proudly atop the strongholds that the 4th Legion had painstakingly captured. The scene was eerily quiet, enough to make anyone who witnessed it pause and question their own steps. But for Lunamaria, this tranquility only stirred up a storm within her. The indirect confrontation at the second perimeter was slipping out of her control. Stratos, the man she once thought would be easily subdued, was reacting faster than anticipated. Not only did he hold the supply lines, but he also launched a series of counterattacks that put all her assault branches in a tight spot. That uneasy feeling kept welling up, clinging to her relentlessly.

Standing there, her eyes glued to the strategic map, her hand absentmindedly caressing the worn corner of the table. The order from headquarters to mobilize the 2nd Legion lay silently before her, but beside it were reports of chaos from the 4th, 9th, and 12th Legions. Everything was contradictory. Her lips moved slightly, whispering as if to herself.

"Stratos... He's not as slow as I thought. Or perhaps... are all the orders from headquarters fake?" Her brows furrowed deeply, revealing unmistakable doubt. A chilling thought crept through her mind: had she unwittingly danced to the tune set by the enemy?

"I think so too, Luna." Leon stepped closer, arms crossed, his voice low and firm.

"Even though this order is indeed from headquarters, and the 2nd Legion assured us they are on their way. But in the past seven days, not a single person has shown up. I can't help but doubt it anymore."

She took a deep breath, about to speak when an electronic signal interrupted. A letter from her father, Effandor "Red" Whieblod. Her finger hesitated as she opened it, and each stern word pierced her heart.

"Luna, headquarters has requested that you hand over command to the 9th Legion. Why do you stubbornly continue this campaign? Do you understand how dangerous your actions are for both you and the 4th Legion? Explain yourself before things get out of hand."

She clenched the paper tightly, her breathing rapid. If headquarters truly wanted her to relinquish command, then that order and the promise of support from the 2nd Legion could only be fake. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead as she realized they had fallen into a trap.

"I bet we're being led by the nose in our own game, Luna. This fake order is pushing the assault team into a death zone, and if we prolong this, the entire plan will go up in smoke." A few steps away, Javis tilted his head, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

"Now I understand why you're so wary of him. At first, I thought you were just exaggerating about that guy!"

"Leon, Javis, recall all the assault teams immediately! Withdraw and restructure! Continuing now is like walking straight into that bastard's scythe." Without hesitation, Lunamaria looked up sharply, her eyes blazing with anger like loaded guns.

However, the pressure kept coming. The main communication screen lit up. An online meeting from the Organization's headquarters. All three main commanders had to take their seats, extreme tension evident on their faces. She sat up straight, hands on the table, the light from the online screen making her face look even more anxious. On the other side, the powerful faces of the Organization's headquarters appeared, not very friendly. The atmosphere in the room was compressed, ready to explode at a single wrong word.

"Lunamaria Whieblod, do you understand what headquarters' order demands? We requested that you hand over command to the 9th Legion, yet you brazenly led the 4th Legion into a dangerous whirlpool. Who do you think you are to casually ignore orders?" A middle-aged woman spoke up.

Lunamaria clenched her hands lightly, taking a deep breath. She knew that if she defended herself clumsily, her career would collapse right there. Her eyes swept over Leon and Javis, then back to face the screen.

"I do not deny that there was an order. But the situation on the ground forced me to be flexible. At the outer perimeter, we have the upper hand and are pressuring Nation. If I stop and hand over command to the 9th Legion, the situation will freeze. The 9th Legion is not familiar with operations in this area; they will take time to adapt, and Nation will have enough time to find a way to counterattack. I believe that continuing the offensive, targeting the enemy's logistics and information, will keep Nation on the defensive. We did not intend to disobey orders; we believed this approach would salvage the opportunity."

"Salvage the opportunity? You're just justifying your stubbornness. If the 9th Legion is not familiar with the terrain, why didn't you report it? Why didn't you find a solution within the framework instead of acting on your own?" An old commander with silver hair spoke bitterly.

"I know I took a risk. But the front line doesn't wait for new orders. Every decision must be quick. If I hesitate, Nation will reinforce their forces. I chose the difficult path because I believe it's the only way to maintain pressure before the 2nd Legion—" She stopped abruptly, realizing she almost let slip something she shouldn't. The 2nd Legion, that damned fake order, was what was dragging her down. Her eyes darkened, as if she had just stepped on a critical weakness.

"You don't deny continuing the attack despite the order to stop. So how are you preparing for the consequences?" A younger official asked coldly.

In an instant, the atmosphere almost boiled over. Lunamaria could hear angry whispers; the faces on the other side of the screen seemed ready to reach through and strangle her. She knew well that one poor answer could strip the 4th Legion of its authority, and she might be demoted or worse.

Lunamaria pursed her lips, about to speak further, but at that moment, Javis stepped forward, his eyes calm but sharp, like someone ready to bet everything.

"Sirs, allow me to say a word." He interrupted with a calm but firm voice.

The screen dimmed as all eyes and attention shifted to Javis. He spoke slowly and clearly, affirming that under Lunamaria's leadership, the 4th Legion had achieved the capture of the outer perimeter, a highly desirable outcome. He emphasized that thanks to the initial strategy, they had caused significant disruption to Nation. According to Javis, withdrawing or transferring command just before attacking the outer perimeter would have been like throwing away all their advantages. Furthermore, he explained that the fake order they received from headquarters was a plot by the enemy to force them to stop the offensive, precisely when Nation needed a breather to regain balance. Although he knew her decision was a bold move, Javis expressed his trust in her intuition and calculation abilities.

"She dares to defy orders, and you dare to defend her? As an outstanding commander of the Organization, are you gambling your own reputation, Javis?" A commander interrupted sternly.

"I understand. And I'm willing to stake my reputation to guarantee it. If Miss Whieblod fails, I will share the responsibility. But if she succeeds, we will break the deadlock and pave the way for the general offensive. I trust Miss Whieblod. I choose to place my faith in someone who has proven her capability at the outer perimeter." Javis lowered his voice but remained steady.

The entire council was silent for a few seconds. A sigh came from somewhere, then a calmer voice spoke:

"Alright, you are not allowed to fail. Whieblod, we will temporarily give you another chance. But remember, there is no second chance for mistakes."

The screen went blank, and the room fell silent, with only Lunamaria's relieved sigh audible. She stood still, the tension draining her strength, but at least it was over.

"This isn't out of kindness, Luna. I just don't want the 4th Legion's efforts to go to waste. Don't disappoint me!" Javis approached, speaking softly.

She turned to Javis, gratitude evident in her eyes. She acknowledged that he had saved her from a visible defeat, and since she took command of the 4th Legion, no one had dared to stand up for her before headquarters like that. In response, Javis just shrugged and gave a faint smile, saying that since she dared to lead the 4th Legion into a game no one else would attempt, he was also willing to bet on this situation. He affirmed that they were now in the same boat. She nodded, feeling her heartbeat return to normal, a new sense of gratitude and determination welling up inside her. She silently vowed that this time, she wouldn't have to fight alone, and she absolutely must not fail.

On Nation's side, Stratos stood before the command table, his contemplative gaze fixed on the strategic map. On the Organization's marching routes, signs of withdrawal began to appear clearly. Lunamaria's assault groups had started to pull out of the second perimeter, leaving behind a devastated battlefield. Stratos gave a faint smile, as if certain of a foreseeable outcome.

"She's realized it," he muttered, unclear whether to himself or to those around him, before issuing the order to cease pursuing the assault teams.

"Got to admit, that woman is clever." From behind, a burst of laughter rang out. Kaslava entered, his demeanor relaxed as if everything was under control.

"But not smart enough to get past our rats." He said, pulling up a chair to sit down.

Kaslava leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, maintaining his smug smile. He claimed not only to have sent fake orders from headquarters but also to have directly edited them within the system. According to him, even if Lunamaria cross-checked, she wouldn't find any suspicious signs; everything was perfect. Meanwhile, Stratos remained silent, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned, showing a subtle satisfaction. He believed this was what made her take over a week to react. In a low voice, he admitted that initially, he thought the plan would only last four days, but thanks to Kaslava, she was entangled in the game longer than he expected. With the advantage just gained, seven days were more than enough to establish a new defensive position for the second perimeter, but a vague sense of worry still rose within him. She, with her cautious nature, wouldn't sit still for too long. Kaslava left the command tent, still laughing comfortably. But the atmosphere in the tent was completely opposite as Stratos returned to his heavy thoughts.

A message arrived from the royal representative: the Emperor was convening a military meeting and required his attendance. Under the cold light of the conference screens around the command tent, facing Stratos were 3D projections of many members, created by Nation's magical technology. The Emperor sat imposingly at the center, his face expressionless but exuding authority in every glance. Around him, representatives from Nation Force, Nation Guard, and Nation Abyss were all present, except for Lockon, drawing all eyes to Stratos.

"Stratos, report on the situation at the western border," the Emperor said lightly, his deep voice resonating.

"Your Majesty, the enemy has withdrawn from the second perimeter. We have restructured our forces and reinforced the defensive lines—" Stratos stepped forward, maintaining his calm.

"Restructured?" A general from Nation Force, his face etched with wrinkles of experience and bitterness, interrupted harshly.

"Don't use fancy words to cover up failure. You've lost many important fortifications. Do you know those fortifications hold not only military significance but also national symbolism? Or to you, symbols are nothing but obstacles? We haven't even addressed your deliberate destruction of many fortifications, Stratos!"

Stratos narrowed his eyes but didn't respond immediately. Before he could speak, another commander from Nation Guard growled, his eyes seeming to pierce through the screen.

"You lost the outer perimeter, Stratos. Have you forgotten that it's the first line of defense, where we shouldn't have retreated? You handed over the entire western strategic situation to them with your own hands. Are you trying to rebel?"

"I do not deny responsibility. But if we tried to hold the outer perimeter, we would have paid with the blood of our soldiers, only to lose both the inner lines and manpower in the end. I accepted losing one layer of defense to preserve the core. If you believe that keeping symbols is more important than the lives of our warriors, I suggest you try going to the front yourselves." Stratos exhaled, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Insolent!" Another Nation Force general's eyes blazed as he slammed his hand on the table.

"Who do you think you are to tell us to go to the front? We give orders; you execute them! You exist to carry out those orders! Now you dare to argue and mock us? Do you think a few minor achievements allow you to hold your head high?"

The twin swords at his side vibrated, the gem embedded in them emitting a strong light, runes glowing red, enveloping the swords in a vast sea of magic, perfectly reflecting his current state of mind.

"Shut your mouths, you old fools!" Stratos roared, completely overpowering the oppression from the other generals in the meeting.

"As the founder of Nation Guard, I don't need to hear you question my loyalty to Nation or my achievements and obedience to orders. Don't forget, we are equal. You're still sitting in those site because the Emperor himself requested it. If not for him, you wouldn't even have fattgots left to sit here and question me."

After his outburst, he clenched his fists tightly, trying to restrain himself, his voice turning icy.

"I'm at the front line; I see clearly that if we don't accept retreating when necessary, the entire inner line will collapse. You sit in warm rooms, issuing orders easily. When I act against orders, it's not because I enjoy it, but because the situation demands it. If you want a beautiful bronze plaque honoring yourselves on the backs of dead soldiers, I yield that to you."

A long "Hmph" came from Nation Abyss's side. A commander with a voice rough like old rope sneered.

"What about intelligence? You claim to understand the battlefield, so why didn't you receive early warnings about the attack? If you didn't know anything, whose fault is that? Didn't we at Nation Abyss send the information properly? Or are you so incompetent that you couldn't understand it?"

"Don't pretend to be innocent. You are in charge of intelligence, but while I and my section were in the south supporting Lockon, not a single report reached me. Now you're blaming me? So who's more incompetent?" Stratos turned sharply, his eyes sharp.

The Nation Abyss general smirked and shrugged, claiming that his unit and Nation's intelligence network had done their part correctly. The fact that Stratos didn't receive notifications about the outer perimeter raid was due to his and his section's failure to arrange personnel and systems properly. Thus, he must take full responsibility for it.

A wave of anger engulfed them, everyone growling and blaming each other. Each word was like a flame burning away unity. Those from Nation Force provoked Nation Guard, Nation Guard bit back at Nation Abyss, and Nation Abyss mocked Stratos. Curses and insults intertwined, like knives slicing away at each unit's self-respect, turning the high-level meeting into an endless verbal battle.

The conflicts between Nation's military branches became increasingly evident, to the point where the Emperor had to intervene.

"Enough!" With just one word, everyone fell silent. He narrowed his eyes, his voice like a sword being drawn from its sheath:

"Stratos, you must quickly resolve the issue in the west and then return to the south to support Nation Force. Nation Abyss, you must report all information without omission. I don't want to hear any more excuses. My orders have been given; you will carry them out!"

The entire meeting room went quiet; no one dared to argue. The Emperor disconnected, leaving behind a heavy atmosphere. Stratos felt sweat beading on his forehead as exhaustion invaded his mind.

The meeting ended, and he sat silently in the command tent, his eyes weary. He slumped into his chair, rubbing his temples lightly. The criticisms and responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders, but in his heart, he knew there was no room for weakness. On the strategic table, a plan was complete: "Feint Attack," the very strategy he had prepared to counter the Organization's general offensive on the second perimeter.

"If she thinks she can easily penetrate the second perimeter, she'll pay the price." He looked at the map, his finger tracing a line along the defensive route while reassuring himself.