86 - Volume 10 - Chapter 1.1

Fuckin’ Glory to the Spearhead Squadron!

CHAPTER 1

FRAGMENTAL NEOTENY: PLEDGE

6

There was no fear.

The first time he stood on the field of battle, he did not feel even the slightest twinge of terror.

Not from the intense roaring of the cannons tearing through the air. Not from the imposing form of the Löwe—that fifty-tonne, polypedal drone tank. Not from the scent of molten metal creeping into his cockpit or the constant tremors of his unit’s cruising systems rumbling all the way to the pit of his stomach.

Not from the ever-present, incessant wailings.

Not from the sight of a nearby consort unit being blasted in the flank by an armor-piercing round as soon as it encountered an enemy and getting reduced to a mess of aluminum alloy, blood, and viscera.

That was his closest friend from the training facility.

Their training had lasted less than a month, but in that time, the cheerful timbre of their voice and their bright smile left a lasting impression on his mind.

It had only taken a second. The Löwe’s APFSDS projectile moved with an initial velocity of 1,650 meters per second. It had hit its target before the roar of the cannon reached their ears. The acceleration propelling the depleted-uranium projectile granted it intense weight and explosive energy, and it penetrated the Juggernaut’s feeble armor effortlessly. The frail human body inside it was torn apart with almost comical ease.

They likely died instantly. Before they could even fathom what had happened. At the time, he couldn’t tell if that was a comfort or not.

Maybe it was the color of the crackling flames or the scent of scorched blood. Perhaps it was the smell of roasting skin wafting across the battlefield. Whichever it was, it had flipped a switch in his mind. A switch he’d never known existed, that he could never have been aware of during his short, peaceful life up until then.

The switch of his combat instincts.

He could feel the enemy’s sights shift. He could tell, somehow, that the Löwe’s internal automatic reloading mechanism had finished readying its next shell. By the time the barrel started rotating a moment later, he’d already pulled back the control sticks and begun moving his unit in an evasive trajectory.

The cannon roared.

The shell skimmed past him, its shock waves beating against his armor. The thin aluminum-alloy plating screeched, but even as weak as it was, this wasn’t enough to rupture it. A building behind him was unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire. It let out a pained, rumbling cry as its concrete bowels spilled out onto the ground.

The sights of his unit—his Juggernaut—were aligned. After dodging backward diagonally, the Legion’s defenseless flank stood exposed before him.

Looking ahead, the young, eleven-year-old Processor—who was once known as Shinei Nouzen when he was still regarded as a human being—pulled the trigger.

After defeating the Löwe by engaging it four-on-one as a squadron, the other team of two fledgling Juggernauts ran into another Löwe and was immediately blasted.

“Kurusu?! Oh… Oh no…”

As if looking past the curtain of powder snow and the rows of Legion, the captain of the Halberd squadron, the first defensive unit of the eastern front’s thirty-fifth ward, clicked her tongue. Alice Araish.

Teito Kurusu, who had just been killed, was a promising Processor among the fledglings who’d been thrown into the field of battle with insufficient training. He caught on quick, had grit and courage, and was capable of making clear, cogent judgment calls. He served as something of a leader among the younger Processors.

Alice had hoped he would at least be able to function in the rear in a suppressive fire position. But she was mistaken. Even in a situation where the squadron was understaffed and below its full capacity of twenty-four members, she shouldn’t have paired the fledglings together.

The Legion outperformed them in all fields, and battling them was always a herculean task. It was said that only one in a thousand Processors survived their first year of service. That was the kind of hell they were cast into.

The other surviving Juggernaut couldn’t move. Thinking of the mature, silent boy sitting in that Juggernaut’s cockpit made Alice grit her teeth bitterly. This child soldier was the same age as Teito, but he was very much his opposite—a boy, small even among his peers. Some cold part of her mind suspected he wouldn’t survive for long anyway.

His Juggernaut remained still. With her perception of time slowed down and stretched by the adrenaline pumping through her veins, Alice watched on as it stood, seemingly cowering in the face of the machine that had ruthlessly murdered his partner.

There were no consort units nearby to help him. And though she wanted to come to his aid, Alice herself was surrounded by a swarm of enemies.

It was too late. Nothing would help. And despite knowing this, she called out:

“Nouzen! Get awa—”

But just then, his Juggernaut moved.