141: The Reason for Fighting
—How long will this war continue?
I had a precise and complete answer to that question.
“Until the human race is extinct.”
“Is there no way to stop the fighting?”
“No.” I answered immediately.
“—Really?”
I felt as if she could see right through me. If she asked if there was really no way to stop the fighting, and I said no, it would be a lie. Theoretically, almost anything was possible.
So, I answered again.
“If you mean a realistic way, then no.”
I smiled faintly.
“The most realistic option would be a ‘peace treaty.’ We would assassinate or otherwise eliminate the war hawks and bring the peace faction to power. Then, we would sign a peace treaty with each nation and ‘cease all hostilities.’ —That, I suppose, could be called ‘stopping the fighting.’”
“Is that not possible?”
“The premise itself is difficult. We don’t have the military strength to guarantee a peace treaty. —And we have no reason to trust the enemy.”
It would be a repeat of what I had once told His Majesty.
We could only win through ruthlessness. And… we weren’t the only ones who had been ruthless.
We could no longer forgive each other.
To seek peace now would take an eternity.
And the bloodshed… would be far greater than if we simply continued the war.
Peace was an expensive commodity, one that could only be bought with a great deal of blood.
“Why? What is the meaning of this war?”
Lital-sama’s voice was filled with sadness. She must be kind. Perhaps—she couldn’t understand.
The feelings of a weak race, who couldn’t even live for a hundred years, who couldn’t fly, who feared fire.
“There is no meaning.”
“…What?”
“I said, there is no meaning. What humans want is a ‘guarantee of absolute safety.’ —Even if we destroy the demons, they won’t be safe, but racial differences are… conspicuous.”
“…What will we do… after we destroy the humans?”
I had an answer for that, too, and I had discussed it with His Majesty and Liz from time to time.
The thought of counting my chickens before they hatched sometimes crossed my mind, but it was better than waging war without a plan for the aftermath.
War was a means to an end.
And our nation’s objective was not the extermination of humanity. It was simply that, when considering the interests of the Listrea Demon Kingdom, the existence of humanity could not be tolerated.
So, my personal objective was the extermination of humanity, but for Listrea, it was just a stepping stone. Not the final objective, and certainly not an objective a nation should strive for.
“For a while, we will colonize the human territories. Their population will have decreased, and their food supply will be scarce. So, we will promote settlement and development.”
This was the northern part of the continent. The reason the Listrea Demon Kingdom’s national power was not commensurate with its size was because this was a harsh land to live in, with a small population.
Furthermore, as a long-lived race, their population did not grow quickly, and if they were to increase it recklessly, they would face a shortage of food and supplies.
To completely control the south, including the fertile central continent, the humans had made all demons their enemies.
So, if the demons were to make all humans their enemies, to reclaim the fertile lands of their ancestors, it would simply be a matter of cause and effect.
“And after that?”
“We will eliminate the ‘reason to fight.’”
“…What reason is there to fight?”
“‘I’m hungry.’”
“…Hmm?”
“‘I have no home.’ ‘They are different.’ ‘I’m scared.’ …There are many reasons. We will simply eliminate the root cause of all discontent.”
I knew peace.
The small world I had lived in had been, without a doubt, peaceful.
“To have food, to have a place to live, to have those who are different by your side from the moment you are born… to make that normal. To teach them that ‘different’ is not something to be feared.”
I couldn’t just import that way of life.
And yet—I knew.
A world without a reason to fight.
“To raise a ‘generation that does not know war.’ —That is all.”
In words, that was all. A very simple logic.
But Lital-sama sighed.
“…That is difficult.”
“Yes, more difficult than war.”
“Is war… easy?”
“Anyone can start one. Ending one… ending one on your own terms… is difficult.”
Even now, I couldn’t say I never thought about it. About inflicting a certain amount of damage, then, when our national power was more balanced… creating a ‘realistic’ peace.
“I still… wish for a peaceful resolution.”
But that was a treacherous path, a tightrope walk. And if I were to fall, I would take the entire nation with me.
I couldn’t choose such a ‘difficult’ path.
“‘The extermination of humanity’ is the ‘easiest’ path.”
“…You speak… with such clarity… such logic.”
“It’s my specialty.”
“Is that… human logic?”
“No. If we call that which is built on reality and reason ‘logic,’ then there is no need to add the qualifier ‘human.’”
We could communicate with other races. We lived in the same world, under the same physical laws. So, we could share the same logic.
And yet—we were still fighting, shedding blood.
For something we could not yield.
“This logic is ‘correct.’”
“This… painful… this… sad thing… is ‘correct’?”
“I have ordered my subordinates on missions where there was a possibility of death. …You, too, have probably done the same.”
“…Yes.” Lital-sama nodded.
“It was ‘correct,’ was it not?”
“Yes…” Lital-sama nodded deeply.
“I knew. That what is correct is not always painless.”
“Yes. And what is painful is not always correct. But you think, and you think… and if it is still correct, then no matter how painful, you have no choice but to do it.”
Even if it was ruthless.
Even if it was the work of a demon from hell, killing a fellow race from its weakest point, spreading discord in its wake.
If, logically, the bloodshed would be less.
Then I would do it.
“That is logic.”
The conclusion could not be changed—if it were, it would no longer be logic.
To simply wish for peace, to chase after an ideal, would surely lead to hell.
And in that hell, it would be Listrea that suffered.
The scales around Lital-sama’s mouth twitched.
I had no experience reading a dragon’s expression.
—But to me, it looked like a smile.
“It’s sad.”
“Yes.”
We were both supreme commanders of the Demon King’s army.
We both carried the same responsibility.
So, all we could do was say that, and nod.
Those who knew the same truth. Those who had tasted the same pain, a pain that came with that truth, and licked each other’s wounds.
Hopefully, there would be no such pain in the future.
