86 - Volume 10 - Chapter 5.1

CHAPTER 5

FRAGMENTAL NEOTENY: UNDERTAKER

4

The Legion began to retreat.

As cold, unfeeling killing machines, they exhibited no dread at the prospect of losing their comrades, nor did they feel driven to exact revenge. They either accomplished their objectives or retreated once their casualties exceeded a certain, predetermined threshold.

Perhaps in an attempt to conserve the Löwe, the receding mechanical wave let the self-propelled mines guard their back line. The enemy blips on the radar screen grew gradually less dense. Even so, the Processors tensely gazed into their radar screens, surveying their surroundings using the optical sensors, when a cold, clear, serene voice reached their ears.

The voice of the twenty-seventh ward’s first defensive unit, Bayonet’s—this squadron’s—captain.

“Undertaker to all units. Combat concluded.”

His voice rang grimly. Like the voice of the combat machines that were their nemeses. Like the voice of a god ruling over this battlefield.

“Acknowledged, Alpha Leader.”

With that short reply, the Bayonet squadron’s vice captain, Saiki Tateha, let the tension drain from his body. He could hear their comrades relax through the Resonance, too. Normally, the captain of the first platoon also served as the squad captain. But since this particular captain had a risky, melee-oriented combat style that made it difficult for him to assume command during savage battles, as well as some other circumstances, Saiki served as the first platoon’s captain.

These circumstances included both his relations with the rest of the squadron’s members and the captain’s preferred fighting style.

Looking ahead, he saw the captain’s unit surrounded by the smoldering remains of the Legion. Saiki couldn’t help but gasp in disbelief, as always. Most of the wreckage belonged to Löwe, too. While still graced with absurd mobility, they boasted the highest firepower and armor of all the Legion types, with the exception of the Dinosauria, which were rarely seen in the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s battlefield.

The Löwe weren’t units a Juggernaut could hope to match. But several of them were sitting crushed and wrecked all around him.

True, Saiki and the others had offered him covering fire in the process, but he’d still defeated over half of them all on his own. The credit went entirely to their captain and his transcendent skill.

As the enemy blips disappeared from the battlefield, the Juggernauts’ gazes all fixed on the captain’s unit.

Standing in the midst of the wreckage of Löwe was a strange, unusual Juggernaut, capable of not only matching those menacing opponents, but also living to tell the tale. Its light-brown armor, the color of dried bone, was covered in scratches that told of its long service.

Since its limiters had been undone to increase its mobility, it generated enough heat to produce a heat haze even in the spring air. It was equipped with high-frequency blades for melee combat. And drawn over its cockpit was the small Personal Mark of a headless skeleton.

The unit with the name of Undertaker. In the Eighty-Sixth Sector, most Processors died within their first year, and those who lived longer than that were branded as Name Bearers with Personal Names. This Juggernaut was the unit of one such Name Bearer—one with a reaper’s Personal Mark.

It moved like a dead soldier’s skeleton, creeping along the battlefield in search of its lost head.

The captain seemed to let out a deep breath inside Undertaker. Saiki could hear that singular exhalation in the now-silent Resonance.

“Return to base. Let the Scavengers handle recovering any wrecked Juggernauts.”

“Roger.”

With that reply, Saiki turned his Juggernaut around. This poorly made aluminum coffin moved with loud, rumbling footsteps. As his optical sensor swerved, the forest that was their battlefield came into view. Some trees were smashed and fallen, still covered in smoldering embers as they burned. Rocks had been shattered by bombardment, and the mud and undergrowth had been kicked up by multiple sets of mechanical legs trampling over them. And in between were the metallic and white wreckages of Legion and Juggernauts.

This was a standard sight in the Bayonet squadron’s and, indeed, the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s battlefields. But far in the distance, between the shade of the trees, the distant horizon was dyed red. This color alone was different. The strip bordering on the Legion’s territories was tinted a vivid crimson. There was probably a field of red flowers there. And since he could see it from this far off, it was likely quite vast.

Oh, it’s spring was the thought that occurred to Saiki.

It had been years since he’d paid any attention to the seasons. He was desperate to survive in the internment camps, so he didn’t notice the change in weather. And if he hadn’t come to this squadron, it wouldn’t have been long after he left the camp and came to the battlefield that he’d…

“…”

Come this time next year, most Processors likely wouldn’t be alive to see this crimson view again. But if they’re in this squadron, they might see it next year and the year after that. Maybe they’ll see different flowers.

Even if they themselves won’t be alive to see them.

“Alpha Leader? Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no. Sorry.” He hurriedly heeded the captain’s cold, somewhat dubious call.

Apparently, he’d been staring at the flower field long enough to arouse suspicion. Their Handler from beyond the walls wasn’t currently connected to the Resonance. The big important livestock keeper in charge of this platoon was a gutless coward. Despite it being his job, he refused to Resonate with the captain. He even cut the radio during battle.

Before battles, he would connect by way of radio to hand over command authorities to the captain and then spend the rest of the operation behind the walls, plugging his ears and shaking in terror.

Knowing this, the captain didn’t bother reporting the operation’s conclusion to the Handler. They would connect again when they were confident the battle was over and would leave him alone until then. Apparently, the captain sometimes ignored their calls since talking to them was irritating. And even then, the cowardly cattle keeper would refuse to connect to the Para-RAID.

Thanks to that, Saiki and the others could return to base, entrust their units with the maintenance crew, and get a chance to relax without having to listen to the white pig’s shrill voice…and they wouldn’t need to worry about their exchanges being overheard.

After all, the Eighty-Six were forbidden from referring to one another by their names during an operation.

“It’s nothing, Undertaker… Shin.”

Hearing Saiki call his name, the captain turned his unit to glance at him. Knowing the captain couldn’t see it, Saiki smiled.

“Good work today, Reaper.”

In the Eighty-Sixth Sector, most Processors die within their first year. And that means that most of the Processors fighting on the battlefield right now won’t be here by this time next year. They won’t be here to see the flowers blooming or the blue sky of the next spring. But this squadron might just see next year’s red flowers, or perhaps even other flowers. Even if Saiki himself would be dead by then.

Because this squadron has a Reaper, who would carry the souls of the fallen along with him.