86 - Volume 13 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

HOW AM I TO ANSWER?

The Actaeon bombing in Sankt Jeder claimed the largest number of lives yet.

It was also the first Actaeon bombing carried out with clear malice. She exploded in the middle of a large Holy Birthday market, without avoiding people or issuing any warnings. What’s more, the girl carried a large number of nails. These metallic fragments heightened the killing potential of her blast, and she’d intentionally walked into a crowd to blow herself up, deliberately picking a place of celebration, where people were allowed to be happy despite the difficult times.

And the worst part of all that, as if to precede this tragedy—the truth about the Actaeon had been disclosed to the public.

The Republic. Again, the Republic. Secretly developed suicide-bombing weapons. Suicide bombs using Eighty-Six as components.

Following this, the news coverage on the Actaeon resumed in full force, with people demanding that they be hunted down, that every last one of them was captured and disposed of as soon as humanly possible. Human-formed suicide-bomb weapons were dangerous enough by virtue of being indistinguishable from normal people, so anyone suspected of it should be arrested right away. Along with the terrible, inhumane Republic people who made them.

As he listened to such radio shows, Miel frowned, feeling a chill of inexplicable terror run through him. The news hadn’t been so vicious when he first came to this country, nor had every show on the radio dripped with clear enmity and suspicion.

This was true of both the Actaeon and Republic people like Miel. It didn’t feel like they were…hateful or scornful of the Republic, but more like…

“They’re afraid of us…?”

Usually, the staff officers and battalion captains would set the TV in the dining hall to the morning news to catch up on recent events, but at this point, Shiden and her group couldn’t stand to watch it. It was all reporting and arguing about the Actaeon.

“It’s such a shitty mood,” Shiden whispered to no one in particular.

“I’ve seen this mood before,” Raiden replied. “Who did wrong, who’s at fault, who’re the traitors…and how you should punish said traitors.”

Yes, it was like when they were little in the Republic, and the early stages of the Legion War were all over the news.

Of course, back then, Shiden thought of it in simple terms. The Empire was the bad guy, and her now-late little sister parroted her. But Raiden had been kept safe in the Republic for longer, so maybe he saw what the news was like after that. How the people and the news fanned each other’s emotions on.

“It’s like they’re looking for…,” Michihi whispered. “No, like they crave an enemy… An enemy that’s not the Legion, but one that’s more simple.”

An enemy that’s easier to one-sidedly trample—that’s weaker and fewer in number.

“…This is what Lord Willem feared,” Jonas whispered as TP approached the window, trying to open the half-closed curtain.

His black eyes seemed to be looking in concern past the room, to the base outside the lodging facility.

“…What do you mean, ‘this’?” Lena asked dubiously.

Jonas looked at her in confusion for a second before nodding. “Oh, right, you can’t hear it… The civilians are clamoring outside the base. Maybe they’re trying to make demands of the army HQ, or they’re just trying to agitate the passersby. ‘Tell us the truth. Apprehend anyone related to the Actaeon, the Republic people, the evacuees. Disclose the location of wounded and returning soldiers. We know they’re infected, so just exterminate them all.’”

Annette looked up at him in shock. Using the term exterminate on human beings was horrible enough, but what’s more—

“Wait… You can hear the voices from outside the base that clearly? With the window closed?”

“House Degen is a bloodline that carries that kind of power among the Onyxes.”

Superior combat prowess was the Onyx race’s unique power, with some clans among them having particularly sharp senses. The family of Willem, the chief of staff—or rather, his old warrior clan’s attendant family had this power as a result. Or perhaps they secured and kept hold of this power over time because of their position as attendants.

“Dear cells only behave similarly to viruses, but they’re not capable of being contagious. But the civilians seem to believe the Actaeon are infected with a bomb virus, and there are loud voices demanding that those who are infected are dealt with. Or otherwise, that they let the civilians deal with them.”

In other words, discover, quarantine, and dispose of the “infected.”

But of course, since no one was actually infected, there was no one to discover or quarantine. The army and the police were occupied with disclosing accurate information, which made them come across as unconcerned about the “suicide-bomb virus” or, at worst, as attempting to hide information after the fact, which further angered the citizens. And the outcome of that was this situation.

“…There are already a few cases of victims of the bombings and their families hunting down returning soldiers and their refugees in what they call an Actaeon hunt. They were influenced by that theory that the origin of the virus is the Legion…and that everyone on the battlefield and all areas near it are already infected.”

The civilians were already harboring discontent at the displaced evacuees for eating away at their peace and abundance, so they clung to whatever reasoning let them lash out and expel them. They expanded the label of Actaeon from the Dear cells test subjects and attached it to the territory evacuees, since they were disturbing their peaceful lives.

And then they appended it to the army staff, who kept letting them down and losing. If the infection originated from the battlefield, then those living in the capital area, far from there, must be clean. And since they were clean, they wouldn’t need to be expelled—it was an easy logic to embrace.

Jonas narrowed his eyes. His keen hearing likely picked up on what Lena couldn’t: awful words of rejection and anger repeated ad nauseam.

“It makes them think the Republic, with its many betrayals, is the true evil, and that evil should be expelled…that they’re allowed to expel the Republic’s people so long as they have a justified reason. This is what he feared.”

Meanwhile, the soldiers on the battlefield, who were all presumed to be possibly infected, didn’t want to see themselves as targets to be expelled.

“…Human suicide bombs are just messed up. There’s no way a virus can turn people into bombs.”

They weren’t Actaeon. They didn’t have some suicide-bomb virus.

“Are you sure they’re not some kind of new self-propelled mine…? Maybe they just hid it well because it’s indistinguishable from a human…”

After all, if they had a bomb in their body, surely it could be taken out with an operation. If it was a disease, it could be cured. If they were originally humans, they could just say what happened, and everyone would be glad to help them, right?

But they didn’t do it, so they must be some new model of self-propelled mine. Didn’t it prove that they were some hostile weapon that couldn’t be operated on and didn’t obey humans? Right?

“And they all hid the case with the wiretaps, right? The Republic, the Eighty-Six, the high-ranking officers.”

When the chips were down, the major nobles, the generals who sat in the comfort of their safe offices in the capital…

“Maybe they’re hiding something else from us. Something they don’t want us to know.”

“—I wish they could take the bombs out of us with an operation.”

Pinning a worm onto a fishhook and throwing it into the water, Citri muttered this as she watched ripples spread over the water’s surface.

They moved through the Vesa territory while avoiding the camps set up by the western front’s army, and they were drawing closer to the defensive formation set along the Saentis-Historics line. But currently, they were in a deep ravine inside the woods, meaning their voices wouldn’t travel too far, so Kiki and the rest were enjoying fishing while chattering loudly. Yuuto did warn them they might scare away the fish, but they turned out to be pretty successful. In fact, Yuuto was the only one who was oddly unsuccessful.

Having apparently given up, he sat by the riverside without his fishing rod and looked at the water sparkling as it reflected the faint winter sunlight filtering down through the treetops. Hearing her comment, he glanced over at Citri, and she continued speaking.

She was quite proud of everything she did today. She made the fishing rod herself, was brave enough to pick up a worm from under an overturned rock, and pinned it to the hook without his help. So since she was capable of doing that…she wanted to talk about this, too.

Yuuto hadn’t asked what clarity did to them in that research laboratory, probably because he could sense they didn’t want to talk about it. And that consideration from him was why she wanted to tell him.

To tell him the story of their…of her weakness and her cunning.

“Like I mentioned at first, the Actaeon were given a set time limit, after which they would detonate, but the setting was incomplete.”

Mines activated by having pressure applied to them, but they also had a safety feature that made them explode after a set time, and this was much the same. Having mines remain buried in a battlefield long after the fight was over was dangerous, and digging up countless mines took time and effort. It was necessary at times to have one’s weapons self-destruct so they didn’t end up hurting the people of your own country.

But in the case of the Dear cells, the researchers weren’t able to perfect this safety feature, both in animal and human experiments.

Yuuto returned his gaze to the glittering stream.

“…And that’s why you all decided to run away from home before December.”

“Yes. Our time limit was set to this year’s Holy Birthday, so we have no way of telling when in December it might happen. Honestly, it’s gotten dangerous even earlier than that, so we should have fled sooner.”

As a safety measure, they were injected with activator cells that would interact with the Dear cells, awakening them after a prescribed time. But they’d activated ahead of schedule, making the Actaeon detonate at unpredictably early times.

If they were set to detonate in ten days, it could end up being several days earlier or several days later. And when set months or years ahead of time, the discrepancy grew even larger. A weapon that could explode unpredictably during transport or standby was a weapon that couldn’t be used, but at the same time, there was no sending a person who’d been turned into a bomb onto the battlefield without a means of disposing of or detonating them. Especially if those people had been forcibly turned into bombs.

The detonation-disposal feature might have been workable had a mechanical component that triggered it been included, but the Dear cells were designed to sow doubt in an enemy country by being injected into people who would be taken prisoner. A mechanical component would be foreign to their bodies and therefore easily detectable, defeating the purpose of the safety device.

“…To begin with, the Dear cells aren’t as simple as the Republic said all those years ago, when they threatened the Empire with turning animals into bombs.

“The activator for it has to be implanted surgically, and we were put to sleep during the surgery, so we don’t know exactly where the cell tissues were placed. And since the Dear cells are made from the Actaeon’s own cells, they aren’t considered a foreign object, and no scan can distinguish them.”

Citri and Yuuto couldn’t hear any birds, perhaps because they were so close to the battlefield, and it was so cold that they couldn’t hear any insects chirping, either. All they could catch was the murmuring of the stream, the occasional rustling of leaves in the distance, and Kiki’s, Ashiha’s, Imeno’s, and Shiohi’s voices as they played together.

“And even if there was some other way of spotting the Dear cells, there’s always the risk of us detonating during the inspection or the operation. The doctor and nurses trying to help us could end up dying, so I doubt the Federacy would even attempt to save us. And if it did, that’s all the more reason those doctors shouldn’t have to die…and more than anything…” Citri paused there.

She decided to tell him about her weakness and cunning. But even so, baring her foul nature for this strong person to see took courage.

“…I was scared the Federacy would treat us like guinea pigs, too. That they’d lock us up, cut us open, and kill us.”

So she ran, never telling a soul. She knew she’d die either way, but nothing scared her more than being treated the same as in the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s laboratory again. The idea of being locked up and killed was scarier than anything.

“You…were scared of dying,” Yuuto whispered softly next to her, so as to not be heard by the others.

She felt a tug on her rod. She caught a fish. She pulled the rod back, catching the splashing fish, and after mustering up the courage, she smacked it against a nearby rock to kill it. This would be their meal for the day.

The Federacy government didn’t stop the free press. Calls demanding the Actaeon be hunted down were projected freely over the airwaves, reaching all over the Federacy. Even to the front lines, where the soldiers originally there mingled with troops from the frontier areas.

Isolate the frontier evacuees who come from areas infested with the new self-propelled-mine virus. Don’t let the useless serfs, who only eat away at our food, threaten the people’s safety anymore.

The soldiers from the capital area were incensed. They were out here, fighting and putting their lives on the line, while the ingrateful serfs threatened their families back home.

The soldiers from the frontier areas were incensed… They were out here, fighting and putting their lives on the line, while the invaders in the capital tried to expel their families.

And despite all that, they—we still have to fight to protect the serfs, the invaders.

Ever since the tragedy in the market, Shin had been hearing of increasingly worrying events, both on the front lines and on the home front. This made him all the more annoyed that he couldn’t demand Lena’s release.

The Federacy military was fracturing from internal discord. The split and enmity didn’t target just the Republic people, but everyone from every direction. And if that enmity was to become violence—like, for instance, Lena getting hurt by the effects of it—the Federacy military as a whole would go out of control and lose all its order and integrity as an organization.

So to maintain the Federacy military’s structure as an army and a fighting force, they couldn’t return Lena to the front lines.

He wanted to end the war with her. But if Operation Overlord was to be carried out for certain, they couldn’t afford to let the Federacy’s military fall apart. And considering her safety, it was better to have her stay on the home front instead of sending her to the front lines, where it wasn’t unthinkable for one of their own soldiers to aim a gun at her for being from the Republic.

But even knowing this, Shin couldn’t restrain his anger. After all, this was being done against her will, her freedom was being infringed upon, and he could only idly look on. Lena wasn’t the kind of person to want to be one-sidedly protected, and he didn’t want to be deprived of her presence this way, either.

If it wasn’t for his duties as commander—if him slipping away wouldn’t affect the command and morale of the Strike Package as a whole—he’d have rushed over to take her back as soon as possible… This sense of responsibility weighing on him so heavily annoyed him the most. The fact that he had to act the part of the responsible, understanding adult and couldn’t go help her made him outraged with himself.

And on top of all that, he was angered that the only thing he could do was sit there and deal with his conflicted emotions.

“Dammit…!”

At this point, the reporting on the Actaeon was no different from the kind of news they saw in the Republic back in the day, when the Eighty-Six were blamed, excluded, and sent to the internment camps.

This scared Dustin.

If every show on the news and every civilian regarded them as enemies, it seemed increasingly likely the Federacy wouldn’t try to save Citri and the others; instead, they would actually hunt them down and kill them. They would do what the Republic did: deem them as criminals and cattle, then murder them all.

With that thought in mind, he pored over a map of the battlefield, examining the route Yuuto had told him. Niva Nova to Noidafune, then Niantemis, and then to the Republic territory of Neunarkis.

“…Ha.”

A smile of self-derision spread over his injured, scratched lips. The estimated path Yuuto had told him… He couldn’t make sense of it.

From the Vesa territory to the combat territory of Niva Nova. Then south to the combat territory of Noidafune, then west to the combat territory of Niantemis, and further west from there to their destination at Neunarkis.

Dustin and Amari would have to slip through both opposing armies to get there. It was doubtful they’d arrive on schedule, but Amari did tell him the waypoint they were headed for. But still, he couldn’t see the route they’d take to get there. Even accounting for any detours available along that route, and the predicted positions of the Legion patrol units, which they would have to sneak past.

With just those instructions, Dustin couldn’t meet them. He didn’t have the navigation skills required to guess Yuuto’s route.

“Ha-ha, right… All I can do is follow the path he gave me. Even if she asks me to come help her, I can’t find my way…”

—How long will this continue?

Just shouting those words wasn’t enough. It was never enough, but all he did was shout them. He did nothing else, simply blaming everyone else. He was all talk and incapable of action.

He lacked the means to reach her, the skill to survive the trip. And even if he did find them, how was he going to save her? Dustin didn’t have the medical knowledge to extract the Dear cells.

—How long will this continue? How long will I stay like this? So powerless? So blind to how powerless I am? Blind to how I think like I’m doing something, but I haven’t achieved anything?

He clenched his hands, the sound of the map crumpling in his grip resonating in his ears like mocking laughter.

As she stood in the dark, empty meeting room, looking at his back—which was hunched over in what appeared to be silent wailing—Anju finally made up her mind.

“…Dustin.”

Dustin wouldn’t return alive on his own. Then she’d simply have to take him along with her. To guide and protect him as they headed to the place he sought, where his childhood friend was waiting. With her skills cultivated through her many years as a Processor, Anju could do it.

Cheat for me. Don’t die.

Those words were poison for Dustin. Those words bound him like a curse, and as the one who put that curse on him with the face of love, Anju knew it was up to her to lift that curse.

“Dustin, listen…I’ll come with you. I’ll guide you there.”

They’d be treated as deserters, but she didn’t mind. It wouldn’t cause their comrades much trouble, either. She felt bad for Shin, who was torn between his feelings for Lena and his duties as commander, but in the end, she was just one platoon’s captain. Her leaving wouldn’t impact the entirety of the Strike Package’s morale and fighting potential as much as his would.

She knew it. This was cheating. And not something as harmless as Dustin’s modest, all too pure wish—but genuinely unfair cheating. It was betrayal, the kind there could be no going back from. But if nothing else, this would protect Dustin’s heart.

“We can still make it, I’m sure. If we go there together now…let’s go save her.”

Dustin didn’t turn to face her for one long moment. But then he turned his cold, argent eyes to look at her.

—Together. Let’s go save her.

You told me…to not die. To return alive, even if I have to cheat to do it… You put the curse on me, ordering me to abandon Citri. And yet…

“You’re telling me that? This has nothing to do with you, Anju.”

Yes, if he accepted Anju’s help, he’d probably get to Citri in time. An Eighty-Six Name Bearer, and one of the most veteran of them all, could slip through the Legion forces and reach Citri’s whereabouts.

Unlike Dustin, she could do that.

Unlike Dustin, she was strong.

And that was why this had nothing to do with her. His weakness, his frustration at how powerless he was, was something Anju was utterly detached from. And so if nothing else, her words—I’ll guide you there—were like her holding his weakness and sloth up for display. He didn’t want her to direct those words at him.

“I’m tired of having the witch’s curse on me… Just leave me alone.”

And only once he said that, he finally realized it. Only when he heard the sharp intake of breath behind him did the meaning of what he just said register in his mind. What letting his emotion and anger getting the better of him made him say.

He hurriedly spun around, only to find Anju had turned her back and run off. The sight of her long bluish-silver hair trailing behind her like an afterimage lingered in his eyes. And for this reason, Dustin couldn’t see what expression she made in that moment.

He could only stand stock-still until Frederica hurried in to take Anju’s place—having “seen” this, or perhaps simply realizing something was wrong—and angrily and aggressively called him a fool.

“What are you doing?! That’s a minefield over there!” Henry barked angrily, spotting a soldier from another company drive young, inexperienced soldiers ahead into a minefield.

It was one corner of the front lines where there somehow wasn’t any fighting. Despite that, the soldiers were all smirking as they replied, intent on using the fresh batch of newly arrived soldiers for target practice or to clear the mines.

“C’mon, we’re just sending him back to Mommy.”

“We need to make sure they’re not some of those new self-propelled mines, you know? If they make it back, they’re a mine; if they don’t, congrats, they’re all one of us.”

“Come on, it’s just a little prank. They’re odd-colored anyway.”

Odd-colored. People whose skin color, hair color, or eye color didn’t match. They themselves didn’t actually believe these soldiers were self-propelled mines; they simply admitted, with a smile, that they were only doing it because these were people of a different race. They were having fun persecuting someone, openly using it as one of their few ways of having fun on the field of battle.

“You think you can pull pranks like this here? Hell, you think this is a prank to begin with? I’ll report it to the higher-ups. I’m not from your company; I don’t have to stay quiet about this. Try telling that to your battalion commander or an MP.”

He had to go that high up because, much to his amazement, even the captain and vice captain for this company were in on this. The soldiers eyed him with hostility, annoyed that he’d rained on their parade repeatedly.

“Aww, just shut up…!”

“Keep your nose out of our business, Weißhaare! You think you can talk when you’re from the Republic?!”

But their insults only emboldened him.

“Yeah, I’m from the Republic. And that’s how you know that when I say you’re going to regret what you’re doing, I mean it!”

The company captain looked taken aback when Henry shouted right at him. As he inched away from him, startled, Henry thrust a finger at his face. He remembered hearing somewhere that pointing at someone kept them from blending in with a group as a faceless member with no responsibility, instead marking them as an individual who could be taken to task for their choices and actions.

“You—yes, you, First Lieutenant Kareli. Simoni Kareli. I heard you just got married, right?”

“What are you—?”

“Can you tell your wife what you just said to me? Can you boast to her that you chased people from other races until you drove them to get killed by the Legion? And what about when you have children? Can you tell them that Daddy abandoned kids their age to die just because of their race? No, you can’t. You won’t, First Lieutenant. And neither can you, or you, or you!”

He pointed at the faces of everyone present here. Everyone wore the same weird expression people had when their individual thoughts were painted over by the group they were in.

The soldier he’d named and singled out from the group averted his eyes in guilt, his face going red in what might have been anger. The blind anger of being pulled out of the safety of a group and backed down into individuality, where one could be blamed and shamed for their actions.

“I—I just don’t have to tell—”

“Are you stupid?” Henry cut him off mockingly. “You think people won’t find out? It came out when the Republic did it, and the whole country was trying to hide it then. But the world at large found out. So what you’re doing is bound to come to light. Let’s see you, then, when you get called demons for what you did. When you get called inhuman monsters for the rest of your lives!”

He’d started laughing without even noticing it. His lips curled up like a gash cut across his face, and he bared his teeth with a maddened glint in his eyes.

“And even if that doesn’t happen…even if no one else ever finds out, you’ll know it. Everyone else might not know, but you will. So there’s no running from this. The truth will thrust itself before your eyes someday. You’ll do it to yourselves. I—”

Yes, I…I’m part of the Republic, which drove out and slaughtered the Eighty-Six, even when it happened to my stepmother’s family, Claude’s family. I looked away and carried on with my life. And so—

“I’m the same! I abandoned my family. For ten years, I walked around like nothing happened, like everything was fine. But it wasn’t fine—my little brother was still alive. And when I found out, I fell apart. I realized myself that I was scum who’d thrown his brother to the dogs and lived for ten years like I’d done nothing wrong!”

And that’s why Henry couldn’t forgive this. He couldn’t pardon his own sins. He kept blaming himself for the fact that he’d looked away from the expulsion and slaughter.

“So there’s no running from this. In ten years or so, when your children grow up, or when you just see some kid in town, the guilt will come crashing down on you like a hammer. There’ll be no escaping it. You’ll catch up to yourself someday. So stop this, before it comes to that. Before you become like me!”

“F-fine, I get it! Shit!” First Lieutenant Kareli said, looking at Henry with fearful eyes as he angrily stomped on the ground like an outraged child.

“I’m not in the mood anyway after all that shouting. Let’s stop this and not do it again. Satisfied?”

It seemed this attempt to placate Henry was closer to telling him to keep his mouth shut. He then glanced over at the young soldiers.

“…Sorry. Our prank went too far.”

Not that this could be written off as a prank.

As he left, the child soldiers followed. This was their unit, and they had no choice but to follow. One of them turned to look at Henry before they left. He was dark-skinned, with pale-golden hair and bright-colored eyes.

“—Weißhaare.”

Henry froze where he stood. The boy was right, and Henry didn’t get involved to come across as a hero to be thanked, but still.

First Lieutenant Nino, who’d hurried over upon hearing of this altercation and seen it all happen, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was him who’d told Henry about Claude’s phone call, and the two started talking as a result.

“First Lieutenant… I understand.”

“…Yeah.”

“…Captain Nouzen.”

Shin realized that he must have really been visibly angry if a foreign soldier, Olivia, had to call out to him.

“Captain Olivia. I…”

As a soldier from another army, Olivia wasn’t under Shin’s command, and despite them both being the rank of captain, Olivia had been an officer for longer, to say nothing of him being older and an adult. Not that he was far enough in age to be his father…but he was like an older brother or cousin and, therefore, someone Shin could complain to.

“What should I do? I’ve been sitting still, waiting for this to resolve itself and for her to come home, but that hasn’t happened. It’s getting worse, in fact. I feel like I should have ignored orders to begin with and gone to take her back. Do I have to obey these orders all the time because I’m a commander, a soldier? I want to go save her, but if I do that—”

Me, as operations commander, as a commanding officer, as a soldier, as the leader of the Strike Package’s Processors… But Lena’s not here, and I want to go take her back…

“Does growing up and not being a child mean…nothing goes your way, and you can’t do anything about it?”

Hearing Shin’s truly childish question, Olivia replied concisely:

“Yes.”

His blue eyes looked hard and cold.

“Being an adult means you stop being a child under the protection of grown-ups. It means having things you need to protect that aren’t just your own well-being. It means you have to take responsibility for more things. It means you don’t just live for yourself, and that when you need to make sacrifices for your choices, you’re not the only thing you might have to sacrifice.”

“…”

Just like that one-eyed major general, who’d done everything in the name of the Federacy, of the mission, of not letting child soldiers become killers. He took on that task, even though it meant leaving his wife and children behind. And he did it with the intent of entrusting the future his wife and children would live in to the Federacy military—to Shin and the Strike Package.

I want to tell him that I am a soldier. He was the one who told me to live properly.

“And yes, the reason you don’t know what to do right now is because you understand the weight of your responsibilities. Because you’re weighing the outcomes of your choices. You care for Colonel Milizé, and you care for your comrades, and you know you have responsibilities to follow…and on top of all that, you know you can’t expose Colonel Milizé to danger. You’ve already made your choice, knowing now is the time to wait and protect the place she will return to.”

“…But.”

He couldn’t tolerate it anymore. He couldn’t help but feel there must be a way to make sure everything went well for both Lena and the Strike Package, and he couldn’t tolerate the fact that he couldn’t find it.

“Captain, you saw the previous operation. There isn’t always an ideal choice that makes everything turn out right. Sometimes, your only option is to pick the one choice that doesn’t have the worst possible outcome.”

And sometimes, things came to the point where you simply had to accept that there were losses you couldn’t recoup. He thought back to the Hail Mary Regiment, who’d lost their friends and their homes over and over until they couldn’t take it anymore. He thought about their female commander and those boys whose names he never knew.

They couldn’t take it anymore, and their actions led to catastrophe. They neglected to make the choice that didn’t have the worst possible outcome, and they charged down the most terrible path.

…I thought the worst of them.

Only now, when he was backed against the wall himself, did he realize that. He didn’t want to lose anymore. To not have anything taken away from him again, and having to put up with that impulse, hurt so much.

It only hurt so badly because he cared so much.

As Shin hung his head, Olivia regarded him with a strained smile.

“But all that said, you still need to vent your anger, right? Honestly, next time, you should do something to let off steam before you get that bad… For the time being, I got you permission to do some brawling practice in the maneuvering grounds. We can go for a round now, if you’d like.”

Managing something akin to a smile, Shin said jokingly, “I see. I’ll use your chest for that one, then, Captain.”

Olivia’s smile deepened. “That’s some odd nuance… Just letting you know, I’m not as good with antipersonnel combat as I am in armored combat. I’ll have First Lieutenant Shuga come along—”

“Raiden won’t be enough. You’ll need one, maybe two more people.”

Shin mockingly said something quite rude about Raiden despite his absence, only for Raiden to suddenly walk over and tell him bluntly, “Figured you’d say that, Shin…so I asked your beloved priest to come over and join in.”

Shin looked past him, shuddering, and saw him—the priest—looking less like a person and more like a grizzly bear that’d forgotten to hibernate, flexing his bulky, muscular arms.

Shin felt very overwhelmed all of a sudden.

Rito and the others could clearly see that Shin had a lot of pent-up frustration from Lena being in custody following the Actaeon affair. So perhaps as a way to let off some steam, Shin started having a friendly hand-to-hand brawl with Raiden, Olivia, and for some reason, the military priest, much to the shock and surprise of even the Eighty-Six.

The priest being a monster was nothing new, but Raiden was going all out, and Shin was definitely more savage than they’d seen him during training. Olivia fell out of the running first, antipersonnel combat not being his forte, but the boys and girls who’d gathered around to watch saw him off with calls of “Good fight, Captain!” and “I’m surprised you challenged the cap’n to a fight when he’s in such a crappy mood.”

“…But man, the cap’n’s really in a foul mood today… Vice Cap’n Shuga’s putting up a good fight, even if he has the reverend helping him,” Rito grumbled, taken aback.

“Mmm, this is some interesting stuff they’re up to. Maybe I can help ya if honor allows it, Li’l Werewolf!” Shiden stepped up to the plate, chanting a line from a movie she saw at a film festival the other day, and joined the match. Raiden jumped up and charged Shin in tandem with her, rushing past the priest. At this point, Shin’s expression took on a shade of clear anger.

“We’re supposed to join in here, right?”

“Come on, let’s go, Marcel!”

“Me too?!”

And so Tohru, Claude, and Marcel also entered the fight, and with Marcel instantly getting knocked out, the battle became a four-on-one. But despite that, eventually, the eastern front’s Reaper was able to defend his honor and beat all of them back, and it didn’t even completely exhaust Shin. He was gasping for air, though.

The priest, who had moved strictly to defense once Shiden joined in, asked:

“Did you calm down some?”

“Yes. Cleared my head, for the time being,” Shin replied, wiping away sweat with his sleeve.

Tohru fell over and demanded Shin get them drinks, with Shiden pumping her fist and voicing her agreement.

“You’re asking me to brew you tea? Me? Of all people?”

Shin really did seem to have relaxed a little, because he was able to joke like usual. Raiden patted him on the back of the head from behind.

“Just don’t outright state you’re going to mix up the sugar with the salt.”

“No, with cornstarch.”

“I mean don’t play with food, moron. The way things are now, the guys in Supplies will have your head.”

Seeing this, Rito, who’d mostly kept his voice down as an onlooker so far, whispered:

“That’s actually not that bad. It’ll turn to, like, tea jelly.”

“That might have actually tasted nice, if it wasn’t Captain Nouzen making it…,” Michihi, who approached them, said with a strange half smile.

“…Maybe we should have Yuuto try it and tell us how it tastes when he comes back.”

Yuuto, who’d entrusted the information on the Actaeon with the Republic and left with those girls. He, who was now a fugitive on the run from the Federacy military and the police.

He knew this would happen, which was why he didn’t tell a soul and departed by himself, taking all the responsibility for it on his own. And yet…

Michihi smiled softly. “Yes… When he comes back.”

True to Yuuto’s statement, it took some time, but they slipped through the western front’s defensive line in the Niva Nova combat territory, as well as the Legion’s patrol lines. It was a brief and yet long trek.

They were now in the western side of the Noidafune territory, by now firmly within Legion turf, and stopped deep in a nameless forest on its northern fringe. They were by a large lake, also nameless save for whatever local name the residents who’d lived nearby once gave it. And scattered at the edge of that lake, by the shadows of the long tree and all over the branches, were white, long-necked birds.

Even Shiohi, whose drooping eyes tended to be sleepily half-open, looked at them with wide eyes as she whispered:

“…Swans?”

“There’s a few swans here, but…these are mostly geese.”

Or maybe ducks—Yuuto couldn’t always tell them apart. He’d seen fowl like these, which weren’t chickens, in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. They were edible if they hunted them down.

Some of the cattle and livestock that’d been freed during the evacuations likely ended up running because of the fighting that followed, leading to them gathering in Legion-controlled areas. This let them avoid animals like bears and wolves, which the Legion did recognize as offensive targets, allowing smaller livestock to live safely here even after the front line was pulled back.

Then again, foxes and birds of prey weren’t targeted by the Legion, either, and these livestock were domesticated animals that were used to living under the care of humans. Yuuto pondered that finding prey probably wasn’t a problem for any mountain cats or foxes living nearby.

But Yuuto didn’t speak these violent thoughts aloud, so Citri and the others didn’t know about them. Instead, they approached the birds, making quacking sounds at a flock of geese that were used to being cared for by humans, and grinned at them happily.

“They’re so friendly!”

“So cute…and fluffy…!”

Oh…

After seeing this, Yuuto realized that it would be best to give up on catching one of them for dinner.

Not only was he incapable of saving Citri, but he also hurt Anju on top of that. He said something unthinkable to his precious girlfriend. That realization finally drove Dustin to a corner. Maybe he should have just rushed out to the battlefield to find her, even knowing he’d never make it. Considering the state he was in, maybe he should just betray Anju and set out, returning or surviving be damned.

He wanted someone to agree with him. Tell him he was right. But no one indulged him that way, so he called out to Amari again, seeking words that would spur him on. But the moment she saw him, Amari’s eyes widened.

“…I’m sorry. This is a bit late to say, but perhaps I shouldn’t have told you after all.”

“Did she say anything else? Did Citri say anything else?”

Their words overlapped, but he was unable to stop himself and kept going. He didn’t care for her apology. Citri’s words mattered more. He wanted to be told Citri blamed him for his powerlessness. That she said something that would send him charging to the battlefield without looking back, running until he exhausted all his strength.

“Did she ask why I didn’t save her? Call me scum? Say I should just…die?”

Amari cocked her head a little. Dustin’s expression was visibly awful, so she wasn’t too taken aback by how incoherent he was being. But…

“She didn’t ask to be saved…”

“Look, Yuuto!”

Citri hurried over to him, one of those birds—a goose or a duck—in her arms. Apparently, the goose had jumped into her arms for want of attention, and Citri looked as ecstatic as a child.

“It’s really friendly! And spoiled, too. It likes getting pats. Come on, Yuuto, try patting it!”

Her pale-violet eyes twinkled with joy, and for the first time, he saw her make a truly carefree smile. He reached out almost unconsciously, spurred by her words—not for the goose looking at him with its black eyes, but for Citri’s long flaxen hair. For her smooth, pale cheek under it, dirtied by their long journey.

Citri’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t run.

But the next moment, a bird on the lake—a real swan—let out a monstrous screech that one would never expect from its graceful form and flew away from the water. And despite the sound coming from another creature, it was a distress cry, and it made the geese flee in a panic. The one sitting in Citri’s arms likewise flew off in a flutter of feathers.

“Ah!”

“Whoa!”

The two got out of the way, of course, and he pulled his hand away before he could touch her. The other geese all flew off around them, filling the area with feathers. It was almost like snow—except it was too fluffy and dirty. They peered at each other, looking absurd with feathers covering their head and hair.

And then Citri and Yuuto both burst into laughter at once. Both of them tried to laugh it off, to pretend they didn’t notice that strange impulse that had guided them a moment ago.

Amari’s expression looked dubious, like she was confused as to why he had to think about this in a way that made everything more complicated than it should be.

“She just said she wanted to see you. That she wanted to see her friend one last time… She was worried about you, what with the offensive. But after hearing you were fine, she said she wanted to see you before the end, because you were her best friend… Oh, right.”

As Dustin held his breath, she continued, looking like she just remembered something.

“She said she wanted to apologize to you proper. For breaking a promise that you’d go to school and play together tomorrow. To apologize for disappearing.”

Those were words he didn’t expect. And…honestly, once he stopped to think about it, it was an obvious wish to make. It left Dustin stunned.

“…She wanted to see me for that?”

He hardly even remembered it anymore. He couldn’t even come up with the idea of her wish being something as simple and obvious as wanting to see a friend again.

How would I even save Citri? When did I start assuming Citri even wanted me to save her? I’m acting like I’m some kind of chosen one, some savior. Or some kind of saint of penance, shouldering the sins of the foolish. I treated Citri, and all the friends who got taken away from that new town, like they’re a tragedy that happened to me. I held them up like a banner, to show off that I’m on the right side, that I’ve known tragedy.

—How long will this continue?!

And yet he forgot those trivial but oh so precious memories he had with her and everyone all too easily. He forgot that she was a human being who once lived at his side, and he reduced her to a token to justify his actions and selfish attempt at atonement.

“I…”

The reporting on the TV and radio and the atmosphere of the capital outside the living room of Ernst’s estate and all across the Federacy were heavy with anger and misery. The hatred toward the heartless Legion was actually the lightest, and it didn’t stop with just disdain for the Republic’s actions. People of the Federacy were enraged at their own countrymen.

The Republic for developing the Actaeon, the government for trying to hide it, the Eighty-Six and returning soldiers for being infected, and generally, the fact that there was no telling who might be a ticking time bomb. The evacuees were nothing but pesky beggars, and despite their fleeing the farms and factories making everyone’s lives worse, they didn’t know their place and kept whining and shouting about injustices and discontent.

The many who died in the Morpho bombardments, the army that failed to defeat the Legion before things became so dire, the government, the nobles who controlled the army, the Vargus who were useful despite being nothing but cattle to be burned through in battle. And the so-called elite heroes, the Strike Package, were also good-for-nothing. Useless Eighty-Six.

Ernst let out a sigh akin to a breath of flames.

If they were going to shout at the saints on the cross for dying before they could save anyone… If they were going to curse those on the battlefield for being useless when they themselves remained in the safety of the home front…

Were they, the ones who only cared about blaming everyone else for being useless, not the most useless people of all?

“I got one! Look, Yuuto!”

When Ashiha hurried over to him, a chicken with a snapped neck in her hands, even Yuuto had to stare at her in surprise.

“You caught it?”

“A fox did!”

Just as it caught its prey, a large creature appeared out of nowhere, lording over it, and the fox had to leave its catch behind and flee.

…Well.

Animals competing over food was common enough in nature. And even if it left its prey behind, there was no guarantee the fox that ran off would come back for it.

“…Impressive.”

“Right?!”

Ashiha proudly held up the chicken she stole from the fox.

“Whoa, awesome!”

“A real chicken. Where did you find it?”

“Wow, this is great! We can have an actual feast!”

Citri, Shiohi, and Kiki had just come back. Shiohi had been gathering firewood, while Citri and Kiki both carried lots of apples in their arms.

“We could add some apples…” Citri cocked her head excitedly. “And make a cake with the rest. We still have some sugar and bread; maybe we can cook something that looks the part.”

“We could slice them up, fry them, and put them in bread with sugar to make them more cake-like. What do you say, Yuuto?”

Yuuto did think that even with all that in mind, they picked too many apples…but then he blinked at Shiohi’s question. A cake?

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” Citri giggled.

“You’re surprisingly flighty, Yuuto!” Shiohi appended.

“…Sorry. What do you mean?”

Seeing he really couldn’t figure it out, the girls exchanged impish smiles and then said it on the count of three.

“““Today’s the Holy Birthday!”””

For the last decade, the Federacy military tried to prepare special meals even on the front lines during the Holy Birthday. Molded meat steaks with traditional applesauce, and heavy cakes sprinkled with dried fruit.

But now there was no glossing over the reality of things.

One armored infantryman, Vyov Katou, eyed the fancy cake that was usually made with sugar and eggs, the likes of which he’d never seen in his hometown, and spoke reproachfully. Even though before now, they would gladly eat such luxury foods.

“For how self-important they act, the city people and nobles and Eighty-Six don’t do anything for us. It’s all their fault; that’s why people keep dying left and right.”

A few of his comrades, sitting nearby, nodded in annoyed agreement. The Legion’s recent assaults cost them many losses because of the useless armored division that lagged behind them and the cowardly artillery forces not offering them enough fire support. But these guys survived despite all that. Some of them were friends or acquaintances of his family from his hometown.

“Someone has to be guilty for this. It’s got to be their fault.”

“—Honestly, the war should have been over by this Holy Birthday.”

Before he knew it, Ishmael realized that he’d been hearing things like this, which were more resentful than hopeful.

“We should have nuked them. We’d have beaten them if we just nuked them. It should have been over by now.”

“Apparently, that was the technical institute’s new secret weapon. Using that would have burned those scrap monsters away. But then the leviathan had to get involved.”

“And the Fleet Countries’ people were collaborators.”

This was idle gossip spawned from the Hail Mary Regiment affair, which had been maliciously contorted into material for distrust. With the air of doubt and suspicion already thick across the battlefield, this rumor spread like wildfire all over the northern front.

The Fleet Countries’ people were all outsiders. They resented the Empire for invading them. They weren’t really human, but monstrous descendants of leviathans.

Those insults, said behind their backs loudly enough to be heard, contained more fear than scorn, and that’s what the Fleet Countries’ people found the most eerie. These people all acted like wounded, frightened animals, scared senseless of the unknown.

And since they were wounded and frightened, there was no telling what their fear and self-preservation might drive these cornered animals to do next.

“Man, must be nice, being an injured soldier. Unlike us, they don’t have to fight!”

This time, Theo wasn’t the one who was told that to the face; it was a corporal with a prosthetic leg who was engaged in paperwork. The person who said it was a reservist.

The corporal simply silently glared back at him reproachfully, and the reservist walked back to his friends with a smug, proud expression. He was greeted jovially, everyone praising him for having said his piece.

Theo was already used to seeing scenes like this. People around the base had been talking like this for some time now.

They’re different. Different from us. They must have cheated somehow to unfairly enjoy this privilege. We’re forced to put our lives on the line, and you cheats are the ones forcing it on us. That makes you traitors—you’re the ones who should be out there, dying.

Theo bit his lip. He thought the Republic, the country that made the Eighty-Sixth Sector, had been somehow unique in its callousness. But even the Federacy, a country he thought was normal, turned out like this once the situation became bad enough.

It wasn’t only the Republic. It was simply human nature. Once the gears of society started to unhinge, people were easily driven to scorn and exclude their fellow humans. In their reluctance to see them and those close to them suffer death or discomfort, they started forcing all those problems onto someone else as a form of justice.

“…And that’s just—”

As she read up on a proposal to the Senate to send the refugees who were heading to the capital back to the front lines as reservists, paired with editorials agreeing with it, Lena felt her breath catch. The proposal posited that the idea should be adopted to avoid the tragedy of drafting civilians. After all, the refugees were useless since they’d abandoned their duties in the production territories and were now nothing but idle parasites eating away at what little food was left.

Since the Federacy hadn’t been a democratic republic for long, many couldn’t read or write yet, especially those from the territories, where there were very few schools. The newspaper she was reading was printed in the capital area, for the educated class, and so they deemed they could openly discuss this as the majority of territory evacuees wouldn’t even be able to understand it.

A certain sentence came to Lena’s mind: If no one lives by its values, the five-hued flag is just a piece of cloth. Those values of freedom, equality, brotherhood, nobility, and justice were nothing but empty illusions. The face of the man who spat those words at her came to mind.

Maybe democracy was an idea that was too premature for humankind.

And that wasn’t limited to just the Republic. It was true in this country, too, and perhaps everywhere in the world.

But then an unfamiliar low voice cut into her thoughts.

“This proposal hasn’t been decided on by the Senate yet, but it’s already been approved behind the scenes. They’ll be sending in those from territories that produce the least, and poor citizens from the capital areas who’ve lost the means to live. Either way, it’ll be the most ‘useless’ of refugees, so neither the Senate nor the people will object… How does hearing that make you feel, Silver Queen of the Republic?”

Lena turned around, finding herself faced with a black-haired, black-eyed young officer of about twenty years old standing silently by the door. He had a sharp, cruel gaze and the physique of a warrior, and he bore the unit insignia of a skeletal hand gripping a longsword.

Jonas, who stood behind her, swallowed audibly.

“Lord Nuzen—”

The man, however, raised his voice in a bellow without even regarding him with a look.

“Did someone say you’re allowed to bark?! Stand down, dog!”

Jonas fell silent. He retreated back to the wall, his face screwed up not in shame but likely out of concern for his master’s position.

Lena looked away from Jonas’s eyes, which regarded her with concern, to the young man, and she carefully replied in a low voice. Despite being in the same room and right next to Lena, the Nouzen man hadn’t looked at Annette at all ever since he entered the room. As Lena spoke, she looked into his cruel, spear-like black eyes, so unrecognizably different from the two other Nouzens she knew.

“I’m not sure what you mean by how it makes me feel.”

“I am merely wondering what it looks like to you, as a woman of the Republic, to see the Federacy’s own citizens clamoring for what would effectively spell the end of this country.”

“Is this your idea of sarcasm?”

The young man’s lips curled into something akin to a sneer. She was truly relieved that even this minute gesture looked nothing like Shin.

“I suppose you would take it as such. My apologies, then. No, I merely wanted your opinion on it for future reference, to know what to do when the civilians admit in all but words that, in the end, our precious creeds have proved to be paper-thin veneers. Freedom and equality have been exposed as nothing but means for those who have everything to walk all over those who have nothing.”

Human rights were a privilege afforded only to the haves—this they exhibited to the have-nots. So they openly, loudly called those unfortunate enough to have no talent, education, or motivation by a new title—the useless—with their “wisdom,” which neglected to grasp that even the useless and the uneducated, the slothful and the weak, experienced discontent.

“In the end, the Federacy wasn’t worth a damn. So how does it feel to you—a citizen of the Republic, which was able to keep its five-hued flag for three centuries—to see idiots who think they are smart fool other idiots into thinking the Federacy turned its haughty nobles into smart, capable citizens?”

Yatrai did think that democracy was an incredibly troublesome system. All must be their own kings. Everyone must take responsibility for their own lives. Of course, some people wouldn’t be able to take that pressure. For example, those who’d spent their lives feeling defeated and helpless about carrying responsibility for their own fates, having ended up born under freedom and equality.

But if the Federacy wanted to maintain that freedom and equality, with all the weight they demanded, they ought to form a framework to save them. A framework that would provide the weak and the incapable with some replacement that would give the useless some illusion of accomplishment.

Be it faith or patriotism, or even being an exhibit in the circus. Even more militaristic practices the Old Empire engaged in—like public executions, chariot races, and coliseum battles—gave the people a sense of justice, belonging, and enthusiasm.

Something that would at the very least satiate not just their empty stomachs, but also their sense of being.

And if one didn’t keep these things in mind, society would eventually be overturned. A society reserved for those willing to study and succeed would eventually be overturned by those who didn’t wish for those things.

And that would end with the people hanging the powerful king in the town square. With the needy executing the wealthy, who owned all. With those who had everything stirring up the ire of those who had nothing. A dagger cared little for how much one had as it slipped between their ribs. And anyone, no matter how ignorant or weak, could thrust a dagger.

And if one did not know that… If none of the civilians took responsibility and at least tried to maintain a facade of human rights, not even realizing that they were jeopardizing their own safety in the process…

“Personally, establishing a second Imperial government strikes me as more trouble than it’s worth, but… Tell me, Silver Queen of the Republic. Can the people of Giad…”

Can humans as a whole…

“…be wise enough to bear the weight of freedom?”

Should freedom and equality be granted?

Lena thought for a moment and then said:

“I think the moment you called it foolish, you proved yourself to be just as much of a fool.”

Yatrai’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. “…Oh?”

“And so am I. Yes, people are foolish. I’m a fool, too. We may never be worthy of being called wise. Freedom and equality might be powerless illusions that we will fail to materialize into anything substantive to the very end. But still.”

Driven to give an answer, she felt like she understood. She could find the right words when confronted with this question. All this talk of human rights, freedom, and equality. Yes, they were all illusions, things without substance, and that’s why the civilians were all failing to protect the value of those illusions. They were empty words, devoid of any inherent value, and they only had meaning when each and every person in society gave them worth and acted to maintain them.

Like putting in the effort to live, as equality in the name of freedom meant equal duty. Like making the effort to reach out to others despite it, to live with a sense of brotherhood, nobility, and justice.

…I know that even I, deep down, have done things like this before. And I know exactly where I’ve done it—in the Republic. Somewhere, deep down, I looked down upon the people who shut themselves off in a sweet dream, living in a country that closed its eyes and plugged its ears. I’ve thought foul of them so many times. And in doing that, I, too, am a fool.

“What we need is not wisdom, Lord Nouzen.”

She referred to him with a title unused in the Republic, with one used only by former nobles in the Federacy nowadays. But Lena intentionally did so. Because she was speaking to an anachronistic Imperial noble who thought he lorded over others, choosing to apply outdated noble logic in the current day.

People needed to try to live for their own sakes. To try to save those they could save. And—to try to not loathe those who could not help. To try to not drag down those who could help others. To not cast out and eliminate those struggling to live right next to you.

“What we need is not wisdom—it’s kindness. To have the resolve and courage to hold on to at least the bit of kindness required to not wish others would disappear, even if we dislike and truly hate them. And indeed, the Federacy lacks that right now. And…you lack that kindness at present and will likely lack it going forward.”

Lena gazed right into Yatrai’s eyes as she spoke. Her silver eyes burned as they peered into his noble Imperial night-colored eyes.

“Know your place, Imperial noble. That cold heart of yours…is the greatest foolishness there is.”

The western edge of the Noidafune combat territory did indeed have little Legion presence, but that wasn’t to say the Legion was completely absent. As Yuuto, Citri, and their group crept through the gaps in the Legion’s supply runs and gathering points, they crossed east into the Niantemis combat territory.

In the past, it’d been Republic territory, annexed before then by the Empire a century or so ago. As Yuuto and Citri sat around a fire, hidden deep in a forest, Shiohi laughed. The overlapping leaves above them scattered the rising smoke, and since the campfire was dug into a hole, its light didn’t spread too far. In the depths of this dark forest…

“We finally came this far, Yuuto… Thank you.”

When dawn rose the next morning, she’d vanished somewhere into the darkness of the trees.

The now-vacated mansion of a former noble couple who’d taken in a wiretap child was burned down. After all, the nobility were enemies of the Federacy people and may have colluded with the Legion.

Federacy soldiers who’d managed to escape the Legion’s headhunts returned to the Federacy army’s defense line, only to be rejected by every encampment and end up dying to the Legion anyway. After all, what if they hadn’t escaped the headhunt but were instead traitors the Legion sent back in?

A position that’d cracked under the Legion’s pressure and sent a distress call was abandoned by surrounding Federacy units and left to die. It was a position that had many reinforcements, most of which were Republic and volunteer soldiers.

After all, the Republic soldiers and those who fought with them may have been turned into human bombs.

In a certain unit on the second northern front, all soldiers who’d been formerly serfs ended up killed. They’d been shot dead by fellow Federacy soldiers as they defended evacuee children rescued during the Roginia River restoration operation.

After all, the evacuees and those defending them might have been “polluted” by the Legion in some way.

And.

It truly wasn’t a dramatic scene.

There was no massive bombardment that blotted out the sky. No lightning raining down from across the horizon. Nothing grand enough to mark the coming of catastrophe.

It was ordinary battle, the same metallic army pushing against the defensive lines, under the same artillery bombardment as the previous day and the day before. And the endless, countless shadows of machines rolling out over and over from the horizon was a grim reminder that it would remain the same the next day and the day after.

It didn’t happen to a unit in a front-line position on the first line of the defensive formation, where the fighting was at its fiercest. It was a unit that was on its way to the front lines as reinforcements that succumbed to despair first. Unlike those fighting directly against the Legion offensive under the whirring of bombardment, their morale pushed to its limit by zeal and excitement, they were still calm and thus more prone to having their spirits broken.

“Is that where we’re going now?”

It was like they were marching to their death. And indeed, many had died under that tidal wave of steel. They didn’t want to go there. They didn’t want to die. No. No. No.

After all, they were…

“They’re just dogs of the nobles.”

They were subjects. Vargus. Outsiders. Serfs. Speakers of different tongues and those of different races. Foolish, weak good-for-nothings. Strong enough to fight, but still good-for-nothing for resting on their laurels.

Was this who they were going to fight for?

The weak and foolish who did nothing but expect them to sacrifice their lives?

The strong and slothful who wouldn’t save them but still expected to use them up like cannon fodder?

“I’m not dying for them.”

And so.

And thus.

“We shouldn’t have to fight for them.”

By no means were those their true feelings.

They simply lost their nerve. Rather than prioritizing the soldiers fighting madly to stave off the enemy, or the helpless civilians from the home front or the homeland or their hometown—they chose themselves. That’s all there was to it.

All those excuses were simply justifications they told themselves and no one else—so they wouldn’t have to acknowledge that fact. A deception so they wouldn’t have to face their own cowardice. An excuse they told themselves.

They made that justification because of the turmoil within the Federacy that had erupted as a result of their defeat in the second large-scale offensive and the Republic’s many mistakes. In truth, though, it was the culmination of countless divisions, hostilities, and grudges that had been bubbling under the surface since the Federacy’s formation.

The true trigger was every Federacy citizen turning their eyes away from the title of land of justice, which the Federacy held on to for a decade of war.

The soldiers stopped in their tracks and nodded to the others, affirming one another’s discontent and self-preservation.

Why should we die for them? We can’t sacrifice our dear comrades for them. Yes, that’s right, that’s exactly right. So we’re right to abandon them. We shouldn’t have to save those people.

Those same words and emotions spread from platoon to company, resonating like cries in an echo chamber. They began referring to themselves not as “me” but as “us,” as the lines between individual and group grew vague, and personal fears mixed with the disgruntlement of others until there was no distinguishing the two, amplifying all the while.

After all, they’re not like us. They’re not on our side.

They’re not like us—so whatever becomes of them isn’t our problem.

They drew a line.

And as they became a group called “us,” a singular creature beset by the same fury, their decision quickly spread across the group without any rebuttal. The will of one individual was, in the end, nothing but the crackle of static noise in the face of the group’s collective will. Especially when it came to things like justice and dignity.

Some of the reinforcements headed for the front line retreated. They abandoned them for the sake of us. A few platoons and companies began fleeing the battlefield.

A single butterfly, white and as thin as shadow, fluttered into the snowy dark.

Through the eyes of a Rabe flying twenty thousand meters above ground level, the Legion commander units grasped the way the Federacy’s front line was beginning to subtly unravel. It didn’t happen on any one front—it was happening on every front. With some time difference, all the Federacy’s ten fronts were starting to fall apart, from the first front lines to the formations behind them and even to the reinforcements heading their way.

They weren’t struck by surprise by artillery fire or taken from behind by a Löwe. Nor were they forced to move to other trenches. The troops at the back of the defensive line could run if they so desired, and this was exactly why they were first to give in to fear.

<<Second phase of pressuring complete.>>

Of course, the Federacy’s front was large, with just the western front spanning four hundred kilometers, so it hadn’t fully been routed yet. A few infantry platoons or companies veering off were only drops in the bucket across the entire front line.

If the Legion could have finished them off at this point…

<<Shifting to third stage—forming a breach. Sending in heavy armored units.>>

Self-preservation was human instinct. With the metallic threat of the Legion charging at people, some were bound to run for cover. As one company fled, another followed. Seeing infantry leaving their trenches to run, soldiers from adjacent trenches did the same. Soldiers awaiting covering fire from a pillbox behind them fled, realizing the pillbox was empty. The first defensive line of the defensive formation abandoned their positions in the heat of battle, leaving the anti-tank guns and artillery positions that were to provide covering fire.

Certain positions on each front, thinned out by the Legion’s prolonged offensive, began to unravel little by little from the back.

And it was at those thinned-out spots that the Legion sent in their spearhead, their heavy armored units, which charged in with intensity and pinpoint accuracy.

It was a strip of the defensive line that was already heavily damaged by the Legion’s attacks and in dire need of reinforcements. Said reinforcements didn’t arrive, and to make things worse, the anti-tank gun positions on the second line were abandoned, leaving the trenches of the first line alone to deal with a swarm of Dinosauria.

They couldn’t possibly defend against such an attack.

A few positions were broken through, unable to withstand the shock waves of the Dinosauria’s charge and breaking under the pressure of its offensive. Much like water spouting out of a crack in a dam, gradually creeping in and increasing the crack until the dam burst, the Legion’s heavy armored units crushed the trenches, invading the first defensive line and forming a bridgehead as they began swallowing up the surrounding formations and trenches from the flank.

There were no reinforcements. The second line that would offer covering fire for the forces intercepting the invaders had fled. The artillery formation, unable to directly see the first line because its survey staff were missing in action, couldn’t fire for fear of hitting friendly troops, and the armored units serving as mobile defense forces that would have beat the Legion back didn’t arrive, either.

“No good, Captain… Every way we look is blocked off by friendly forces!”

“Shit…”

The armored division’s commander gritted his teeth upon hearing the report of the scout. He was the leader of the armored division charged with mobile defense, which was stationed on the second line, behind the infantry position on the first line.

Any troops fleeing from the first line had to pass through the armored division, blocking the roads they went through. Their disorderly attempts to run hindered the armored division’s movement, and since they were scattered all over the combat zone, they blocked the traffic in every direction. The strength of the armored division was in mobile combat, where they moved nonstop. Having to fight with scared soldiers running around them reduced them to nothing more than stationary turrets that were of no use at stopping the enemy.

The armored division, which boasted high mobility and firepower, was neutered by their own fleeing soldiers.

With no reinforcements, fire support, or armored units to intercept them, the Legion and the opening they made remained unchallenged, allowing more Legion to invade. Fearing that their way out would be blocked when the Legion started maneuvering around them and striking from the flank, surrounding units began to run, inspiring other units around them to also flee for fear of being left behind.

Had the military still been functioning properly, this tear could have been fixed. But it remained untended and continued to expand.

“Mommy. Mommy. Wait. Wait.”

The sound of crying children filled the battlefield—a battlefield all the civilians had long since been evacuated from.

As one artillery soldier stopped and turned around out of reflex, a child’s silhouette descended and clung to him. A moment later, it exploded—a child-model self-propelled mine. Those were harder to come by on the Federacy’s fronts compared with injured-soldier models, but some of these common Legion suicide-bombing weapons had been creeping about the battlefield since ten years ago.

But despite them being a common sight, they scattered irrational terror into the air along with the blood and charred flesh of its victim.

“A—a kid just blew up!”

“They’re infected! They got as far as the front!”

“A new type of self-propelled mine. The kind that looks just like they’re human! They really sicced them on us!”

An artificial virus that turned people into bombs, new self-propelled mines that were indistinguishable from humans. The many conspiracy theories that spread following the Actaeon incident accidentally overlapped with the child self-propelled mine, which these reservists weren’t used to seeing, giving them more cause for panic and doubt.

The self-propelled mines themselves, as well as the commander unit that sent them to help secure the breakthrough and cause confusion among the fleeing troops, likely never expected the soldiers’ panic to be this extreme.

Enemies that looked like humans and were indistinguishable from real humans really existed, hiding among their ranks. They looked and acted like humans but were coldheartedly seeking to kill them.

In which case—

In the midst of panic, the soldiers looked around, their eyes clouded with suspicion. For someone outside their group, outside “us.” Someone who wasn’t one of them, wasn’t their comrade, who was possibly an enemy.

Because they might be self-propelled mines, human bombs.

They weren’t potentially enemies. They were real, true enemies who sought to harm them.

Even with the first line broken through and mistaken suspicions spreading, many units still stuck to their stations, and reinforcements hurried over to help their comrades on the first line. They clashed with fleeing and defeated soldiers as well as armored units blocking the roads. Both sides blocked each other’s path or line of fire and were forced into a standstill.

The fleeing soldiers were not supposed to be there, but they refused to clear the path, leading to a stalemate. Voices from each side angrily called for the other to get out of the way. Everyone was on edge, be it from fear and panic or urgency and determination, and their words soon became cusses and shouts. And as their rough shouting spurred both agitation and resolve, the arguments flared up.

And in the end, someone whispered:

“They’re not our comrades anyway. For all we know, they’re the enemy.

“They abandoned our comrades. For all we know, they’re deserters, shameful traitors.

“If they’re going to stand in our way—it only makes sense to eliminate them.”

Soldiers clad in the same metal-black uniform turned their guns on each other, then pulled the trigger.

Fleeing soldiers fired on their allies.

Routed soldiers fired on their allies.

News of the situation arrived through multiple flustered reports of soldiers who saw this, the fire spreading in the midst of the panic and chaos of retreat. Misunderstandings, contempt, and subconscious malice intermingled, swelling into something unrecognizable.

With the enemy charging in right before their eyes, soldiers began killing one another, unable to trust their own comrades. Everyone became enemies, and the lingering fear of death wasn’t something the human psyche could endure for long.

Soldiers saw their compatriots shot to death by cowardly outsiders who fled the battle.

Soldiers saw people from their villages summarily executed. It was no doubt the handiwork of people they’d never gotten along with from an adjacent village.

Our comrades were killed by them. By nobles, by manbeasts, by serfs, by invaders, by outsiders, by deserters, by bossy seniors who let their tenure go to their heads, by good-for-nothing reservists. They killed us, our precious comrades.

They are the enemy. How are we supposed to fight alongside the enemy? They’ll just betray us, just leave us to rot, just—kill us, just like the scrap monsters do. We’ll never fight with them; we can’t even stand breathing the same air as them.

The only ones we can believe in anymore is us!

The giant organization called the Federacy military was made up of countless members of different attributes and backgrounds. It granted them the illusion that they were on the same side. But at this moment, the illusion shattered. And they all fractured into countless little groups.

For the Republic officer called Václav Milizé, the adjacent Giadian Empire had been a latent threat, and as a colonel, he had a grasp of its structure and weaknesses.

<<Third phase of Federacy eastern front opposition complete. Commence all-out assault.>>

Emotionlessly watching the Federacy army fall apart via the Rabe’s reconnaissance, No Face gave the order.

In order to keep the people from uniting against them, the Empire had been structured so as to intentionally divide the people into multiple groups and foster antagonism between them. The different groups were subordinate to the different nobles, who remained united through common interests and bonds of blood.

The nobles, who served as a binding link to the people, were abolished by the revolution, but the many fractures that existed among the populace were left as is, creating a democracy in name only—which now collapsed in on itself.

For ten years, the Federacy had braved the war, owing to its vast land and great population, but in the end, their “victory” in the first large-scale offensive proved to be the cause of their defeat. With the war as their excuse, they ignored the internal pressures that’d been building in their country for months and years. The destruction of the Morpho was a brilliant achievement on the surface, but it was a meaningless feat in the end.

There was no immediate need to resolve these problems, and this was why the Federacy’s people were blind to the fact that their country had been perishing until the very moment of its collapse.

The finishing blow came when they disclosed news of the wiretaps, of the Republic’s betrayal, to the public. With their own hands, they spread the seeds of doubt, of collapse across the country. They planted in their people the superficial belief that their fellow humans were now outsiders—that others were not to be trusted, splintering them into countless little groups.

<<1st Echelon, advance. Pursue the routed western front army.>>

The soldiers had discarded the title of the Federacy army, with all its illusions and presumptions, as well as its value as a binding link as a group. As an organization, the Federacy military fell apart, and perhaps, at the same time, the Federacy as a country came undone, too.

As this grim sight was displayed on the command center’s holo-screen, the chief of staff, Willem, turned to face the superior officers and commanders of the western front’s HQ. At this point, the Federacy military no longer functioned as an army. There was no resisting the Legion anymore.

And yet.

“A proposal, Lieutenant General. Request that the central region reserves and Vargus civilian units be deployed at reserve position Harutari. With their support—”

The western front’s army had hundreds of thousands of soldiers, including logistical support, spread horizontally over a hundred kilometers.

If they were to fall back from the Saentis-Historics line on the eastern tip of the combat territories, all the farms and factories in the territory they would retreat to would be crushed and turned into a battlefield. It would cut into their production capabilities, including food, which would be equivalent to a slow but total act of suicide.

But it would still be better than being wiped out here.

“All the western front’s forces are to fall back to the Harutari line.”

Similar decisions were made across the Federacy’s fronts. All fronts retreated to their reserve positions. Their current defensive formations, which were already built on the very edge of the combat territories, had to be abandoned as the order to fall back to the production territories was issued.

Everyone knew this was an act akin to suicide—but they had no other recourse.

“Lord Yatrai…”

“We have no choice but to deploy, do we? Shit.”

Yatrai walked down the corridor to the hangar with fast steps, followed by his tense lieutenant. His unit, the Crazy Bones Division, was to be included in Operation Overlord—in other words, they were supposed to remain on standby, not be sent out into defensive battle on any front.

But now that every single front had collapsed, the Federacy was at its end. The Crazy Bones Division and elite units from other noble houses would have to be sent in to forestall their total defeat, even at the cost of the operation that was their last hope.

“Is the capital’s Will-o’-the-Wisp Division deploying, too? Yeah… And I guess the Brantolotes would have to send in their Flame Leopard unit, too.”

Each faction stationed units on the capital outskirts, with the pretense of maintaining public order but with the implicit purpose of keeping one another in check. But things had fallen to the point where they really did have to help maintain public order. These were units that, in the past, conquered territories near the Imperial capital to keep the opposing factions in check and were never meant to be sent to the front lines, but at this point, they had no choice but to move out of the capital.

“It’s fine, though. We have enough people to maintain the peace, and we can cooperate on those grounds.”

If Archduchess Brantolote was so far gone that she prioritized political warfare at a time like this, people from within her faction would conduct a political purge. After all, it was doubtful they’d be in a position to entertain anything foolish or useless going forward.

Yatrai stopped himself from making an uncouth clicking of his tongue, but still, he spoke severely. House Nouzen had hidden in the shadow of the Empire’s puppet emperor, only to then escape a dog’s death by hiding behind the back of the president who promoted democracy.

It had failed to steer that democracy and its people under the pressure of the Legion War. Or perhaps, it had failed to do so because its eldest son had fled to another country, knowing of the upheaval that choice could bring on.

“I resent you, Marquis Nouzen, Lord Reisha. This time, the Nouzen House truly has lost its edge.”

Since the elite units that’d been left out of battle to protect the capital region had to be sent in, the Strike Package had no reason to remain on standby, either. The Strike Package was ordered to take to their closest battlefield, the western front.

“…Securing a retreat route?” Shin asked.

“Defending route Sylvas numbers four to seven. Recovering the retreating units from the Blanc Rose combat territory is our current mission.”

Grethe, who was seated at the desk, carried on coldly as she looked up at Shin.

“Colonel Milizé won’t be returning yet. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to back out because of that.”

“…Yes. I know.”

He’d told the late major general Altner that he was a soldier, with his own words. As an Eighty-Six, he decided that fighting to the bitter end was his pride.

Even so, his emotions howled at him to betray, because the Federacy had already betrayed him first, and his reasoning told him that making compromises in the face of unreasonable acts would only inspire them to demand he accept less and less.

Don’t forgive betrayal. Fight with all your resolve.

…But he knew that the situation wouldn’t allow him to adhere to his own desires. And so he clenched his teeth.

“I know. I’m an Eighty-Six, and a soldier.”

For the first time, he felt that this title, Eighty-Six, was a troublesome weight around his neck.

With the front lines pulled back to the production territories, the Strike Package’s home base, Rüstkammer—which was located on the western tip of the Sylvas production territory—became the new front line. It was no longer a place that could host another country’s royalty or the daughter of a powerful family.

As they boarded a small aircraft, likely sent under great pressure to Rüstkammer for this task, Zashya faced the officers who’d come to evacuate her and Vika from the base.

She faced them alone.

“His Majesty will not be coming. The house of unicorns cannot bear the shame of abandoning comrades and retreating to safety.”

Her tone and expression were cold, and it was clear she had no intention of relenting. She had her back to the door to the prince’s room, which was empty, but the way she stood wordlessly made it clear she wasn’t going to let anyone inside.

“Miss, please…,” one of the officers said, looking daunted.

“Did I give you permission to speak, plebeian?” she cut him off coldly, her eyes glinting with the faint color of lightning, the shade of the royal house. “I will be going alone, and you will accept that. This should be enough for your Federacy to claim that you’ve done your due diligence.”

Seeing the small plane approach, Vika took Frederica with him as he hid in Fido’s container, where he alertly watched the events unfolding outside.

“Me staying here is hard enough, but you mustn’t fall back, too. We need as many cards as possible in the Eighty-Six’s hands so they do not easily abandon this base.”

The key to saving the Federacy and all humankind. The empress was a card that had to be left in the hands of his comrades, the Eighty-Six.

“…And yet you send Zashya away?”

“She’s my guarantee in case something happens, a person to run things in my stead… So long as she alone survives, even if me and my regiment are lost, the United Kingdom will be able to understand.”

If the Federacy could retain that much respect, they wouldn’t have to put up with the selfish requests of foreign nationals, even if they were royalty.

It was no longer a situation where they could entertain such things.

Frederica cast down her eyes… Vika, too, had just discarded a card from his hand. The serpent prince had fought alongside Shin and the others, remaining by their side. He was doing this so he wouldn’t have to abandon them now.

“You have my thanks.”

Fido let out an electronic “pi” in agreement. Vika scoffed at them both.

“You have no reason to say that. You too, clockwork contraption… I do this of my own will.”

As the tall shadow of a girl cast over him from behind, Dustin spoke up before she could say anything.

“I made my choice. I won’t make you cry.”

Even so, he knew somewhere in his heart that him saying this alone would hurt her. But he had no choice. He was a powerless, slothful coward who thought himself a saint, and he was incapable of doing anything until his unit had to move out. This was the only choice he could make, and he knew this would hurt her.

“At the ceremony for the Revolution Festival…”

Two years ago, during the Revolution Festival, when he still hadn’t questioned himself.

“…I asked how long this would continue. How long we, the Republic, would continue persecuting the Eighty-Six. At the time, I believed I’d never do anything like that. But that wasn’t true. We’re all the same. We all put what we hold dear on one side of the scales and everything else on the other. And since we didn’t have the strength to pick both, we tried to protect something we held dear.”

Both the Republic and Dustin were too weak, and they could only pick one.

“We chose to pass up on the Eighty-Six. Justice. Citri. We cast away things like love and connections. And in discarding those things we thought beautiful…”

Things that were fair and correct. Love and connections. And in casting them aside, they discarded something equally beautiful, correct, and indispensable.

“…people cast aside—justice.”

Anju didn’t answer behind him. Instead, he sensed an air of unrestrained loathing—the kind of air that didn’t feel like Anju at all. Dustin turned around dubiously, only to find Shiden standing there.

He froze up nervously. Shiden’s indigo eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing as she looked at him like he was garbage.

“…Now listen here.”

“S-sorry! I thought you were Anju…”

Dustin became all the more flustered because he knew this wasn’t someone he ought to have confused for Anju. Both were tall, yes, but Shiden was notably taller, on top of her physique being different and her hair shorter. And then there was the color of her skin, hair, and eyes.

“Yer lucky I wasn’t Anju, dipshit. And that I’m not Kurena or Frederica or Li’l Reaper or Raiden.

“I won’t tell them, and nothing you say can hurt me,” she spat out…casually making him realize he wanted to hurt her. As Dustin stood there, frozen, Shiden turned her back to him and waved.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear all that shit… Make sure ya think stuff through carefully by the time we get back.”

“…Anju.”

Anju, who stood stock-still in the locker room despite it almost being time to sortie, raised her head sluggishly upon hearing her name being called. Anju had been hurt like this ever since her argument with Dustin. Having heard about it from Frederica, Kurena approached, biting her lips.

Dustin was an idiot, and he was due for another splashing in cold water when they returned from this operation. Or maybe they could have the entire unit splash him with paint, like they wanted to do on Lena’s first day. Just trying to wash it all off would probably give him a cold.

When they returned.

Anju cracked a feeble smile as her sky-blue eyes reflected Kurena. The same eyes filled with love for Dustin. The same eyes whose color Anju always hated.

“Kurena… I’m sorry I made you worry. I’m causing trouble for everyone, aren’t I?”

Kurena shook her head, but Anju’s smile remained feeble.

“I’m sorry. I…I’ll probably cause you and everyone a lot of trouble in this operation. I’ll probably just drag everyone down. I mean, look at me now. I’m supposed to be captain, but I just can’t stay calm… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m weak and helpless, but I keep pretending like I’m strong and capable…and I placed that curse on Dustin, which was why…”

Kurena had to cut her off.

“I—!”

I…I’ve always…

“I’ve always thought you were amazing, Anju. Because you could wish to be happy. You could wish to be happy with someone and tell them how you feel.”

Even on the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s battlefield of death and blood, where one’s death was predetermined at the end of a five-year period, where there was no telling if one would survive the next day.

And though they escaped the Eighty-Sixth Sector, she lost Daiya. Time and again, they were faced with the possibility of them being unable to hold on to their pride. But even so, she could tell another—Come back to me. I will return to you.

“That always scared me, and I couldn’t feel that way. So even if you’re weak—no, especially if you’re weak…”

Her sky-colored eyes didn’t waver once. Nothing Kurena said likely got through to her. But that was fine. She didn’t have to understand now; it could sink in later, when it hurt or maybe when she was finally in peace. She would understand. She would see that she really was the Anju she knew.

“…you’re amazing, Anju. I really think so.”

“What civilians remain in Fortrapide City are to evacuate, if possible, or otherwise seek refuge inside the base. We set up our position in the strip to the west of the Zasifanoksa Forest,” Shin said, serving as Grethe’s messenger while she was too busy with preparations for the operation.

“I’m well aware. I am a formal officer, after all,” Second Lieutenant Perschmann said with a brief nod.

As an offensive unit, the Strike Package was to depart and assist with the retreat of the western front’s army. In the meantime, Second Lieutenant Perschmann, along with the maintenance crew and base staff, would be engaged in building the defensive line to the west of the thick forest around the base.

Combat engineers were already present in Harutari to set it up as a reserve position, but now the Strike Package would have to rush to complete the operation…meaning it would end up being a little crude, but better that than being incomplete. Even so, they were short on time.

“Put in a request for the Wulfsrin to help with setting up the fortifications… If necessary, I can leave Bernholdt or someone from his unit to help you with that.”

“We’ll be fine on that front. I’m sure the women who’ve raised five boys who’re like rowdy wolves will show what they’re capable of.” She cracked that joke without a smile. “I pray for your good luck, Captain. Return safely.”

For the first time, Shin saw Second Lieutenant Perschmann salute him perfectly in her combat uniform.

The Republic citizens had been evacuated to a territory by the name of Montizoto, which was adjacent to the Blanc Rose and Neugardenia combat territories on the southern edge of the western front. It wasn’t an area that would be in the direct line of combat, but with fronts falling back and reserve positions needing to be deployed, it was now in the way.

A call to evacuate deeper into the country was issued all over Montizoto. It was only a call, however—there were no trains or cars prepared this time. The Federacy didn’t have the capacity to arrange for that anymore.

“Which means you have to do it by foot—evacuate by walking. I will escort you to safety, so older children should take the younger children by hand. Try to keep the little ones from crying for now.”

There were no other military police here. They’d all spread out across the city to guide others. The military police captain who was the head of the facility had gathered the children in one place, and as one of the older boys, Miel nodded earnestly.

A front’s entire army numbered in the hundreds of thousands of men, vehicles, and cannons. Its retreat was therefore difficult, especially while fighting was still ongoing. Not all units could depart at once. The support units, which were in the most rear position, were the first to fall back, and the reserve units were sent in to secure their path.

In order to ensure the safety of the units retreating from the Saentis-Historics line, the reserve units traversed the Montizoto territory on their way to Neugardenia, and they passed by groups of evacuating Republic citizens along the way several times.

And as they passed them by, a thought occurred.

Didn’t we rescue them to have them serve as reinforcements to begin with? With the front lines in a state of collapse and so many people dead, they can fill the ranks. Same as how we’re being used as cannon fodder now.

And so they stopped groups of evacuating citizens, requiring them—even children and infants—to turn back and return to the battlefield. For ten years, they’d been allowed to make decisions without legal grounds under the pretense of “ad hoc adaptation,” and now those powers were being misused.

Still, these were armed soldiers forcing unarmed civilians. The civilians couldn’t resist…or they shouldn’t have been able to. But incidentally, a group of Republic volunteer troops passed by. And a few among the refugees happened to have some small firearms. And now there was a group of Republic people who’d survived two large-scale offensives and were struggling to survive a third conflict.

Their resistance was fierce and violent. The reserve forces who aimed their guns without any intent of actually firing at anyone were met with an instant counterattack, swallowed up by the angry mob, and trampled before they could fight back.

All that was left in the wake of that conflict was anger at the Federacy military’s oppression—and the discarded weapons of the reserve unit.

A revolt by a group of Republic citizens broke out in the Montizoto territory, along the southern edge of the western front’s Harutari reserve formation. At around the same time, the leader of the Bleachers—Yvonne Primevére—and her comrades broke out of their prison in Sankt Jeder, raiding and taking over the private residence of a high-ranking official in the Federacy. And despite all those unnatural developments, none of it was reported to the press.

Having taken the president of the Federacy—Ernst—hostage, the group declared their independence as the New Republic of San Magnolia, with the Montizoto territory and its adjacent combat territory of Neugardenia as their new land.