Hajime walks through the chaos of the town, ignoring the rushing militia and following the bathrobe-wearing simp.
“This stay has been a mixed bag,” he thinks. “On one hand, I got a new companion with desirable features. On the other... I got completely screwed over in my quest to stream my favorite interdimensional show…”
He glances sadly at the remains of the once-great tower. “Tentacle-san didn’t deserve that ending.”
Narrator-kun: Just like in a fairy tale, Hajime’s small wish was transmitted across realms to Tentacle-san’s real body. In Hajime’s heart, he could vaguely hear a distant echo:
“Release... da... XX... XX... forg... me for t... inconv... my He...”
Touched by an unexplained warmth in his chest, Hajime smiles faintly, not knowing why.
Valiant-san: “HISSSSSSS.”
Hajime: “What’s wrong Valiant?”
Valiant (hissing): “I felt the presence of a great foe... we absolutely didn’t finish it off!”
Hajime grins.
Valiant (coldly): “Why are you smiling Hero?”
Hajime (still smiling): “Because I want to, that's no sin to be guilty about.”
He continues walking, ignoring the chilly aura emanating from his talking necklace. "She’ll eventually get over it" Hajime hopes
Just as the thought fades, battle horns blare across the city. Hajime, now tense, urges the mod escort to pick up the pace. His gut is screaming at him to leave… though he doesn’t know exactly why.
Siege towers bearing the banners of the Decadent advance, many cobbled together from scrap, plastered with the broken dreams of the followers. They proudly advertise their inadequacies, exhorting the good citizenry to betray their morals. Disgusting...
Farther back, gold-gilded towers signal the elite paypig whale units. Unlike the cannon fodder, these pigs enjoy upgraded protection and bling. They march proudly under banners like:
-
"Yasss Queen"
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"Hit Me Harder, Mommy!"
These swine are the most dangerous — financially stable and morally bankrupt.
The rest of the troops, too poor for proper transportation, improvise with leg-themed ladders and bow and adrow.
First Skirmish:
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
The cannon fodder approaches the walls. The Adchers open fire, testing the defenses of the city. The pigs launch Nocture-sponsored ads… with their poor aim, most miss and land far below the wall.
The well-rested and highly-trained militia fires back with deadly precision. Pigs rout — only to be slaughtered by their own side.
Terms & Conditions:
“You may disgrace yourself all you want — but you may never disgrace Nocture-san. Penalty: Death.”
Ironically, morale improves among the siege forces. Culling the weak increases each pig's chance to earn their queen's attention.
The scrappy siege towers draw near. Adcher fire can’t break through them. Pigs with ladders rush forward under their cover. Maximizing the hordes progress by abusing the generosity of those with means...
Saintess Elnora shouts:
“ADMAGES! Show them the beauty of the TRUE ADVERTISEMENT!”
The mage towers — manned by monks who have binge-watched nothing but holy ads — unleash beams of square-shaped advertisements. Magical pop-up beams slice through the towers, vaporizing the heretical banners they so proudly worship.
Pigs rush the wall with ladders, but are met with boiling lotion and industrial-strength creams. Those hit by lotion slip and fall. The boiled ones, too silky-smooth to recover, melt into chemical agony.
Now, the blinged-out siege towers advance. The Admages fire again — but their beams are reflected by shields made of pure darkness... and diamond-tier subscriptions. A few pigs below are caught in the deflection and die dishonorably. So is the way of Pay-to-Win warfare.
Meanwhile...
At the rear, pigs craft scrap themed catapults and begin lobbing giant stone feet. Most miss their target. Feet are indeed not aerodynamic.
A few smarter pigs build ballistae and manage to shoot foot-rods into the walls with some marginal success… though some rods strike their own climbers. Collateral damage is accepted and encouraged.
Such is the glory of Nocture’s Army!
Nocture-san, watching through a telescope:
“F*cking useless scum…” she mutters, eyes fixed on Saintess Elnora.
“She’s still aura farming…”
Through the lens, Nocture sees Elnora… slowly lifting her skirt.
Saintess Elnora:
(quietly, provocatively) “Let the war begin.”
Nocture grits her teeth and crosses her legs in a seductive dom pose.
Nocture: “Take that, you sanctimonious bitch!”
Saintess responds by showing her kneesocks... the rare half-down variety.
Nocture bites her lips and spawns a lotion bottle from her inventory. She rubs it across her thighs in perfect show technique.
Nocture: “BEAT THAT, YOU WHORE!”
She peers through the scope—
Saintess is now lovingly caressing a giant plushie of the Hero, rubbing her sock-covered feet across it with deliberate sussiness.
Nocture (screaming):
“THAT BITCH IS MINE!!!”
She kicks a pig plushie with fury, she commands the simps to get the rest of her battle gear, she finally storms toward the front lines with unbridled fury.