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The United Kingdom of Yugoslavia.

A small to medium-sized nation born from the remnants of the Ottoman Empire, the last vestige of the once-great Turkish Empire that had fallen with the tides of time, stitched together haphazardly with the thread of Slavic nationalism.

They had two defining characteristics:

First, their primary export was pork. Second…

“Let’s create a nation solely for Slavs!”

“Pan-Slavism! Pan-Slavism!”

They were one of the most extreme nationalist states in Europe.

How long had they been forced to bow beneath the feet of the Ottoman Empire? How long had they lived under the humiliation and oppression of those Islamic nomads?

After a long wait, finally! A time of glory had arrived for the South Slavs!

A time of glory had arrived. Or so they mistakenly believed.

“Yugoslavia? Aren’t they just a collection of newly independent, weak nations? There’s no way they’d dare to challenge us.”

At the Berlin Conference, we were insulted.

“A member of the German royal family will be placed on the throne of the Kingdom of Croatia.”

We were betrayed.

“Montenegro will be ceded to Croatia. And a member of the German royal family will be placed on the throne of Albania.”

And we were oppressed.

The Ottoman Empire had retreated, and the South Slavs thought their time of glory had come. They believed they could once again rule the Balkan Peninsula, just as the Serbians and Bulgarians had in the past.

But this was nothing more than a sweet delusion.

We were still slaves. Though we wore no shackles, we were still slaves.

And on June 28, 1915…

BOOM!!

A liberating explosion echoed through Sarajevo. Or so they thought it was a liberating explosion.

“Ha…”

As the war began, the numerous problems they had been unaware of, or rather, had desperately tried to ignore, began to surface within the United Kingdom.

“We don’t even have machine guns… we’re short on rifle ammunition…”

“If this continues for another month, the entire nation might starve to death!”

Everything was in short supply. Food, ammunition, weapons, even uniforms were scarce.

They were desperately importing weapons from the Tsardom of Rus through the Black Sea and Dobruja, but… the army of the Tsardom of Rus was itself a pre-modern force that couldn’t even properly equip its own soldiers.

Even if the allied nations were struggling with weapon shortages, it was better than having their own sons die on the battlefield without guns.

Of course, they did generously provide them with a handful of outdated weapons.

But… those outdated weapons were literally outdated. Most of the guns didn’t even fire bullets, and many of them broke down at the slightest provocation.

But the United Kingdom of Yugoslavia couldn’t say a word.

“It’s free, isn’t it? Pay up if you’re not happy.”

In the end, it was the Kingdom of Yugoslavia that was desperate. They had thrown a bomb to break free from their shackles, but they were still someone’s slaves.

‘But if we can break through Montenegro, if we can somehow manage Montenegro…’

They could import massive amounts of supplies from the Western Allied forces. The noose around their necks would finally loosen.

And so, half-pushed, they gathered all their forces and launched an offensive towards Montenegro.

Unaware that a sharply honed blade was poised, ready to pierce the crown of their heads.

August 23, 1915. 4:30 AM.

“Charge!!”

In the dim, pre-dawn darkness, the 9th Army’s cavalry unexpectedly crossed the Danube River without any prior bombardment.

“Enemies! The German Empire is coming!”

It is commonly believed that the cavalry fell into decline with the start of World War I. This is true. Barbed wire completely sealed off the cavalry’s movements, grenade launchers easily tore through fragile flesh, and machine guns spat out dozens of bullets per second.

The advancement of technology had completely erased the light cavalry, the last vestige of the knights of the Middle Ages.

At least, that was the case on the Western and Italian Fronts, where the great powers were abundant.

The main enemy on the Balkan Front was the United Kingdom of Yugoslavia, which was struggling with a shortage of even rifle ammunition, let alone barbed wire, grenade launchers, and machine guns.

The United Kingdom of Yugoslavia, already struggling with a lack of supplies, and having squeezed out every last drop to send to Montenegro, had no power to stop the Imperial Army’s cavalry, which was surging in like a burst dam.

“Ugh, aaaaaah!”

“Save me!!”

In the end, the United Kingdom of Yugoslavia was forced to relinquish all the territory it had gained by driving out the Kingdom of Hungary within days of the start of the battle with the Imperial Army.

“Damn it…”

King Peter I of the United Kingdom of Yugoslavia gnashed his teeth as he looked at the map.

At this rate, the capital was in danger. It was virtually impossible to stop the enemies advancing from the north…

“Your Majesty… now is the time to retreat.”

“Retreat further? That’s the capital! Are you telling me to abandon the capital?!!”

The capital of the United Kingdom of Yugoslavia, Belgrade, was the only industrial area in the kingdom, where all the factories were concentrated. If it fell, all that would be left for the kingdom would be a desolate countryside and a poorly armed, ragtag army.

“We cannot abandon everything with the capital! Your Majesty! We must make a choice now!”

“Ugh…”

…Yes. He was right. In the end, the nation must exist for the capital to exist.

“We will retreat for now. We will designate Sofia, the capital of the Duchy of Bulgaria, as our temporary capital, and we will continue our resistance from there.”

Peter I’s order to retreat. Upon hearing the order, the officials and generals of Yugoslavia packed their bags with bitter hearts and quickly began to flee.

Fleeing the Imperial Army’s rampaging hooves, into the vast valleys of the Balkan Peninsula.

But they did not yet know. That the Empire’s malice was more insidious than they could ever imagine.

“Hang them.”

The necks of three Yugoslavians were bound with rope.

“Get rid of them.”

He kicked away the three baskets.

The three Yugoslavians felt the oxygen in their brains gradually depleting as they hung in the air, twisting and turning their bodies, before finally hanging limp in place.

This was a common sight in the city of Belgrade, now a very ordinary scene.

Now, the 9th Army was filled with anger at the barbarians for daring to assassinate Your Majesty the Emperor, and with a desire for revenge for ignoring their homeland, let alone apologizing for it.

“Here! There’s Yugoslavian trash hiding here!!”

“Come here!!”

“Kyaa! S, save me! Please, kind soldiers! Save me!”

The city of Belgrade, where murder, rape, and arson were rampant, had become a giant hell solely for Yugoslavians.

“Clean it up neatly! Don’t leave any dirty bugs in Europe!”

Even the military police and officers, who were supposed to restrain the soldiers’ looting, were joining in on the looting and destruction.

There were even soldiers competing to see who could kill the most Yugoslavians.

“T, this can’t be…”

Soon, the Danube River, which flowed through Belgrade, was filled with the stench of rotting blood and corpses of Yugoslavians.

John Rabe, a journalist from the Holy Roman Empire who witnessed this scene, wrote the following in his article:

“The pond outside Belgrade was dyed crimson with blood. It would have been even more gruesome if it had been taken in color. Prisoners were made to dig the graves in which they would be buried, and the prisoners knelt in front of the graves and had their heads cut off. Many Imperial Army officers are very skilled with their swords, and the moment the sword strikes, the head falls off and the body falls into the grave on its own.”

Of course, that article was never published in the Empire. It was censored by the government, as expected.

This was not limited to journalists from the Empire.

Even journalists from neutral countries had to undergo a physical examination to the point of being stripped naked before they could escape from Belgrade, the hell that had unfolded in this world, to the land of the living.

“C, can humans really do this…”

But secrets cannot be hidden forever.

Some journalists with a strong journalistic spirit managed to reveal what had happened there to the world.

The Belgrade Massacre. Peter I, upon seeing the report on the incident that would later be known by this name, said in a trembling voice.

“The Empire must explain the horrific massacre that took place in Belgrade!”

Then they chuckled and replied as follows.

“First, apologize for the assassination of the late Emperor.”

Of course, this was an attitude only shown to barbarians. To Britain, France, and the Tsardom of Rus, whom they considered to be civilized, they replied as follows.

“No massacre occurred in Belgrade, and the ‘civilians’ mentioned in the report are not civilians but ‘militiamen who have been disarmed.'”

In fact, the United Kingdom of Yugoslavia had created a significant number of militias when the war began. But… logically, there was no way that women, six-year-old children, and toothless old men would be in those militias, right?

But they were fiercely fighting against enemies who had to judge them under international law.

The judgment of international law was too far away, and the Empire’s fist was too close.