86 - Volume 4 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 

TRIAGE 

“…Ugh.” 

Opening her eyes, she found herself in total darkness. Annette, who was sprawled out haphazardly on the floor, rose to her feet. 

Where…am I…? 

She looked around, but the darkness was too thick for the naked eye to see anything. She could feel the sensation of concrete against her bare feet. The place didn’t feel suffocating, which meant it was probably a fairly open space. 

As she’d been investigating a Legion installation they’d recovered, the Phalanx squadron had been attacked by the Legion and wiped out. The Grauwolf types that had taken them out had closed in on her, and that was all she remembered. The memory made Annette bite her lip. 

I’ve been captured by the Legion, then. But why? If this was a Headhunt and they were looking for neural networks to assimilate, the Phalanx squadron’s combat-experienced Processors would be much more valuable to the Legion. If they killed them, why take a noncombatant like me? The weirdness doesn’t end there, though. The tactical HQ was still functioning when they attacked. Why sacrifice the element of surprise and not raid the enemy headquarters? 

This isn’t a Headhunt. And they weren’t aiming to diminish the Strike Package’s forces, either. What makes me more valuable than those objectives? 

It would have made sense if she’d been an expert in Feldreß development or a developer of some cutting-edge weapon system, but she was a Para-RAID researcher. The Legion could already communicate under the Eintagsfliege’s deployment; they didn’t need her. 

No. I don’t know. I don’t have enough information. 

She shook her head and got to her feet. For now, she needed to run. She turned and surveyed her surroundings. Her RAID Device had probably fallen off when was taken away. She patted down her lab coat, only to find the pistol she had worn for self-defense was gone, too. 

It was a completely unlit space, but after a while, her eyes grew used to the darkness. The place was as large as… No, it was even larger than she’d thought, and she could barely make out the silhouettes of a group of humanoids crouching in a corner. They were likely people. If they were self-propelled mines and didn’t attack her at this distance, they wouldn’t react to her raising her voice, either. 

Annette forced her parched throat to speak. 

“Hey.” 

No reaction. 

“Hey. You there. Are you survivors from the Phalanx squadron? Do you know where this is or how we got here…? Hey!” 

Still no reaction. 

“Let’s put the situation in order.” 

The tactical headquarters were thick with suspense after hearing a squadron had been wiped out on the surface, which should have been secure. The Nordlicht squadron, which was in charge of protecting the headquarters, formed a defensive perimeter around them with the reserve Lycaon squadron and spare armored infantry. 

Information ran frantically across Vanadis’s main screen as Lena tried her hardest to stifle her anxiety. Frederica bravely reported the situation she “saw” after the Phalanx squadron’s annihilation. Annette was… 

“The Phalanx squadron’s annihilation, Professor Henrietta Penrose’s abduction, the presence of humans mixed in with the Legion in the operation area… All of this is accurate, correct?” 

“There’s no doubting the last point, Colonel.” 

The Spearhead squadron was hidden in one of the automatic factories’ dry docks, silently taking cover behind the massive form of a half-complete Morpho. They’d lowered the anti-fire/anti-flooding shutters so the self-propelled mines and the Grauwolf types’ feeble sensors wouldn’t be able to find them. 

Shin spoke from inside Undertaker, which he’d switched over to standby mode. 

“I wanted to confirm the gist of how many people were in the operation area and what their infiltration status was, but I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to chat, given the situation.” 

It was hard to tell the humans apart when they were mixed in with that many self-propelled mines and Grauwolf types, which was why the squadron had ceased combat and retreated to the depths of the Auto Reproduction type. 

Having fought in the Eighty-Sixth Sector—which didn’t have civilians—until now, the Eighty-Six weren’t used to battles in which there were units they weren’t supposed to kill mixed in with the enemy. In a way, the Processors were similar to the Legion in the sense that they normally destroyed everything that wasn’t an ally. 

“Judging by how filthy the people and their clothes are, it looks like they were kept in unhygienic conditions for a prolonged period of time… They’re likely survivors of the large-scale offensive.” 

“I’m not sure if I’d call ’em survivors, Lady-Killer. More like leftovers. Or maybe raw ingredients would be closer?” 

Ceasing all combat, Shiden’s Brísingamen squadron took refuge in an abandoned elevator hall and lowered their shutters. Undoing her flight suit with one hand, Shiden rummaged through the cockpit’s storage compartment. 

Unlike when the Eighty-Six had to make do with the Republic’s unused field uniforms, the Federacy provided its Processors with high-performance armored flight suits optimized for operating Feldreß. In addition to being easy to move in, they were highly fire retardant, were shock absorbent, protected somewhat against bullets and knives, and were gravity resistant. They did, however, have one problem. 

They were tight around the chest. 

Undoing the button to free her breasts from their stranglehold, she heaved a sigh. It was hot. She took a sip from her canteen before pouring the rest over her head and shaking it off like an animal. This heat was from the massive amount of adrenaline secreted from the excessive movement involved with piloting a Juggernaut. She then took out a piece of chocolate from her storage compartment and bit into it. 

“Forget filthy, I wouldn’t get anywhere near ’em as they are now. Wouldn’t waste my time talking to ’em, either. They didn’t look sane to me.” 

She scoffed, glancing at the closed warehouse door. The “humans” the Brísingamen squadron had encountered were prowling behind it, along with the self-propelled mines and the Grauwolf types. 

“Their ages were all different, but each one was equally filthy and insane… Our comrades were one thing, but we didn’t care for pigs that were slow to run away.” 

“Slow to run away… You mean from the large-scale offensive last year…” 

The Legion didn’t take prisoners…with one exception. Headhunts. They occasionally rounded up the heads of their victims in order to assimilate their neural networks. 

“What do we do, Your Majesty…? Try to shelter ’em? I don’t care if the white pigs live or die, but I’ll say it again: They’re not responsive. We can tell them to get away all we want, but they won’t move.” 

Lena bit her lip at Shiden’s apathetic question. Telling them to shelter the Alba would be easy. But expecting them to fight while telling the Alba apart from the self-propelled mines in the darkness of the underground labyrinth wasn’t a realistic demand. Enforcing that order would likely result in casualties among the Eighty-Six on the field. 

On the other hand, ordering them to fire indiscriminately at humans, even if they were Republic citizens… Just imagining it made her sick. Especially given how some of the Eighty-Six had seen their family and friends killed in a similar manner. 

Easily ordering them to commit atrocities would be nothing short of incompetence. A carelessness a commander must never, ever commit. 

“…No. There’s no need for our armored squadrons to proactively shelter them.” 

Lena could feel the captains become racked with suspense over the Resonance and continued: 

“However, there is a way to tell them apart… If you encounter humanoid units, expose them to your fire-control laser sights at maximum output. If they’re humans, they should run away, or at least stop moving. If they don’t react, they’re self-propelled mines.” 

She could feel Shin grimacing. 

“Depending on how long we expose them to it, it could result in severe burns at the very least.” 

“…Yes. But it’s preferable to gunning them down.” 

A Feldreß’s—a Juggernaut’s—fire-control system employed an invisible laser beam that functioned as its sights and range finder, and a laser was a convergence of energy with directivity. Exposing it to one’s eyes could result in blindness, while exposure to the skin could cause it to heat up and burn. Even if the Alba weren’t sane, their sense of pain would likely still be intact. Pain was an organism’s alarm bell, spurring one to actively evade and run away. The Legion had instruments that would detect exposure to lasers, but they had neither a sense of pain nor the intelligence to understand and mimic what happened to humans when they were exposed to lasers. 

“It may expose your positions, but the self-propelled mines can only fight in an extremely short range anyway. It shouldn’t influence combat. Leave the sheltering of any humans who run away to the armored infantry… But please try not to have them scatter too far.” 

“Roger.” 

“However…” 

She cut into his response, which was as steeped in apathy as she’d expected it to be. 

“…that doesn’t apply in situations that may prove fatal. Apply swift judgment and remove any threats before you without hesitation.” 

Ordering the Eighty-Six to take losses in the name of Republic civilians was the one thing she could never order them to do. 

“Likewise, with regards to Professor Henrietta Penrose…” 

She could feel a tight sensation in her chest. She was dizzy. Lena feared the words she was about to utter. They’d skipped grades together, and each had been the only friend the other had had around the same age. They’d quarreled two years ago regarding the Spearhead squadron’s treatment and had hurt each other, but in the end, Annette had still helped reconfigure Lena’s RAID Device. 

During the large-scale offensive, Annette had taken command of units and fought by her side. She was a dear friend to her. Her one and only…best friend. But she couldn’t expose her subordinates…her Processors and the armored infantry loaned to her, just for her… 

“Prioritize completing the mission. Now that the Phalanx squadron has been taken out by an unidentified attack, splitting up our forces to look for her and placing our units under risk of being taken out individually…is a risk we can’t afford to take.” 

She’d thought about sending in the Lycaon squadron, which was waiting on standby, but considering the four squadrons already deployed might encounter unforeseen problems, she couldn’t afford shifting any forces for Annette’s sake. 

“Colonel…” 

“I’m not abandoning her, Captain Nouzen. If any of our squadrons go in deep enough, they should be able to rescue her then. However…if we don’t make it in time, there isn’t much we can do.” 

Even if that meant leaving Annette to be cruelly dismembered. After a silence of several seconds, Shin spoke again. 

“…Colonel. The Spearhead squadron and I will move to Major Penrose’s rescue.” 

“Captain Nouzen…?!” 

“We may not know the enemy’s method of attack, but they’re still Legion. In that case, I should be able to avoid engagement as I advance. My chances of encountering the Legion along the way are lower.” 

“But…” 

“You’re thinking about how you can’t let us Eighty-Six die for Republic citizens, aren’t you?” 

As he pointed out Lena’s concerns accurately, his quiet voice was racked with concern. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t separate yourself from the Republic, Colonel, but I do understand that regardless of the reason, you simply can’t. You think these sins are your own because you’re a citizen of that country. But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend you’re as coldhearted as the Republic, Colonel.” 

You don’t have to act the part of the Bloodstained Queen who fights with no one by her side. 

“So don’t force yourself to do things you shouldn’t have to… I’ll say it again. It doesn’t suit you, Colonel.” 

“……” 

“I’ll leave subjugating the Admiral to the Brísingamen and Thunderbolt squadrons. We’ll have to split up our forces as you feared, but this shouldn’t cut into our search time.” 

Shiden let out a chuckle. 

“You sure you’re cool with that? You’d just be handing me a win.” 

“Take it. Now isn’t the time for pissing contests.” 

“I know—I’m kidding… Leave it to me.” 

Frederica then said: 

“Shinei, I’ve been keeping track of the general area where Penrose was taken. If I compare it with the map, I should be capable of pinpointing her exact location. I will show you the way, so focus on evading the Legion to the best of your ability.” 

“…Close your ‘eyes’ if things get dangerous.” 

“Apologies in advance, but I may take you up on that… As unpleasant as it is to say, I would much rather not bear witness to her being picked apart.” 

“Rito, we can leave taking out the Weisel to you while we’re searching for her, right?” 

“Yep, no problem, Cap’n.” 

Lena frowned. As a commander, she had to withstand the emotions welling up from within. “…Thank you so much…” 

Shin’s only response was silence, while Frederica snorted before adding: 

“A final question… Aside from the Phalanx squadron’s annihilation, no one else has been attacked in a similar manner, correct?” 

“Nope.” 

“We haven’t seen anything, either.” 

“So only I saw it…” 

Shin asked, “Frederica, can you explain what happened back there?” 

His question carried the implicit intent that it was fine if she couldn’t explain it…or rather, didn’t wish to remember. She’d borne witness to a squadron of twenty-four people, whose names and faces she knew, getting ruthlessly overrun one after another. It was a consideration one would naturally make toward a child only barely over the age of ten. 

Frederica shook her head, though. 

“My apologies—I know not the details. Juggernauts were being crushed left and right before I even knew what was happening… To the very end, I did not see what manner of attack it was.” 

“How were they killed?” 

“Captain Nouzen, how can you ask something so bluntly…?!” 

“I do not mind, Milizé. It is because I can aid them with my power that I am by Shinei’s side. I’ve a great debt to repay.” 

Frederica heaved a sigh. 

“But as easy as that may be to say… Yes.” 

Frederica’s red eyes clouded over with recollection as she earnestly tried to put what she’d seen into words. 

“Aina, the first to be defeated, was suddenly split in half. Despite the absence of hostiles in her vicinity, the Juggernaut was cut right down the middle of the cockpit… I would assume she died instantly.” 

“Maybe it was sniped by a large-caliber cannon…?” 

It seemed likely, given it had been destroyed without any enemies around. But Frederica shook her head. 

“Aina stood within a building surrounded by Juggernauts. It would be exceptionally difficult to find a line of fire to snipe that position, no matter where one was to take aim from… Perhaps a sniper of Kurena’s skill would be capable of such a feat.” 

“It would be hard to split a Juggernaut in two with a projectile weapon to begin with. I think chances of this being a snipe are slim.” 

A 30 cm APFSDS’s penetration marks were relatively small, as were a high-explosive anti-tank warhead’s, with its metal jet. It was doubtful it could even split the Republic’s walking coffin in half. But this wasn’t to say Shin came up with an answer. It seemed he was thinking ardently and only speaking so as to put everything in order. But in the end, he couldn’t come up with anything and fell silent. 

Realizing that any further discussion would only be conjecture, Lena drew a conclusion based on what they knew so far. 

“…We must place maximum priority on collecting information regarding said attack. Should you run into a similar attack, avoid combat as much as possible and retreat at once.” 

“Roger.” 

“Roger that.” 

She called out time after time, but the human figures didn’t react to her voice. Annette fell silent, feeling a sense of dread creep over her. Seeing how the lines of their shoulders moved up and down as they breathed, she realized they were likely humans after all and weren’t dead. This group of fellow humans simply breathed, powerlessly, weakly. 

The sound of her heels clicking against the floor was a problem in this situation. Kicking her shoes away, she walked across the floor wearing only stockings on her feet. The door had an electronic lock on it, but thankfully it was an old type, a type that could be fooled by any kind of thin, card-like object. Twisting the knob over and over, she took a random card out of her coat’s pocket and passed it through the reader. The simple mechanism gave an electronic beep as it easily yielded. 

Gently pushing the metallic door open, she peeked through the crack… There was nothing there. It seemed the Legion didn’t feel much need to guard such helpless prey. And honestly, there likely wasn’t any need to do so. They weren’t bound in any way, but this confinement was more than enough to keep those who wouldn’t move of their own volition contained. 

As she looked back, the other prisoners didn’t so much as stir. She called out to the group standing at the head of them: 

“Hey, let’s get out of here… We should be able to escape now.” 

But as expected, she got no reply. 

Shaking her head, Annette slipped through the door’s crack with catlike dexterity. The heavy door closed on its own the moment she let go of it, and the sound of the lock clicking echoed softly. Shaking off the hard sound that almost seemed to criticize her for abandoning someone again, she walked on. At first, she moved cautiously, but eventually she sped up into a light jog. 

The long, long corridor was spacious and comfortably wide, and its ceiling was low, as was typical of the underground. She could make out the dim white ornamental floor tiles even in the darkness, and there were silver shutters with elaborate designs lowered to the left and right. Farther in were stylish storefronts competing against one another in beauty throughout this uninhabited, abandoned space. 

She was in a shopping mall. 

It was probably—or rather, without a doubt—the commerce facility within the Charité Underground Labyrinth. She advanced down the wide walkways, grappling with the fear of falling into a Legion ambush. The walkways were full of gentle curves and were designed to allow plenty of customers to walk through easily, which created many blind spots. Clinging to the shadows, she desperately sought the staircase that would take her to the surface. 

When she saw that near a distant wall, she jogged over. As she did, she listened closely, making sure to stay wary of the sound of anything approaching her. None of the Legion, not even the Dinosauria with its hundred tons of weight, made a sound with their footsteps. But in this complete and utter silence, there was no way of moving without making some kind of noise. 

Standing with her back to that, which looked like a round pillar of some ancient sanctum, she stood in place and looked up to where that person should be. The Phalanx squadron had been attacked on the surface despite the battlefield having been presumed to be only underground. There was a chance the tactical headquarters—where Lena and the others were—had been attacked and wiped out as well, but she had to gamble on them being unharmed. 

“Don’t lose sight of me… I’m begging you…” 

Because inside Vanadis was Frederica—the girl with the ability to see the past and present of anyone she knew. 

“Good. She seems to be unharmed.” 

Frederica’s crimson eyes shone faintly as she stared into space. Sitting completely still—her appearance as lovely and put together as always—she seemed mystical and majestic and at the same time entirely foreign when placed in contrast with the armored command vehicle and its cutting-edge technology. 

It was like divine possession, as if she were a holy priestess speaking the will of the gods. Solemn and grave. Staring through empty space into some unknowable place with her eyes completely blank, Frederica grimaced. 

“You’ve quite the tenacity, running up as far as you did… However, what is it that you’re doing there, Penrose? Wandering around as you are.” 

Frederica knit her adorable brows in momentary thought, then her eyes widened as she grinned in understanding. 

“Ah, you smart girl, you. You stopped before the information board, knowing I might be gazing upon you… Shinei.” 

He replied by nodding silently over the Resonance. 

“I have a grasp on Penrose’s whereabouts. Head there as fast as you can.” 

“—Confirmed. The fourth level’s eastern commercial block, huh?” 

Confirming the map data he’d received, Shin turned Undertaker’s bearing. Annette’s current location was presented in red, and the shortest route there was highlighted. He could hear Lena speaking over the Juggernaut’s loud operation noise. 

“We’ve set the route based on the enemy’s distribution and their presumed advance patterns, but it’s only speculation. You should change paths and take detours if you deem it necessary, Captain.” 

“Roger… But it looks like the current recommended route should be fine.” 

He replied after confirming the Legion’s current status. It seemed Lena had the three-dimensional structure of the map memorized and was shifting the movements of her units and the enemy in her mind in real time. It would be one thing if it were on a planar surface, but Shin had trouble believing she could handle everything on a three-dimensional battlefield where units moved constantly. 

This was a skill Lena had gained precisely because she’d spent so long commanding from a distant control room, where she’d had to rely on fragmentary information from the battlefield covered by the Eintagsfliege’s jamming. It made Shin wonder what kind of fighting Lena had seen in the Republic ever since the Special Reconnaissance mission two years ago. Suddenly, he realized he had absolutely no idea. 

And that was because he’d never asked. No one, himself included, had ever thought to ask Lena about that. Lena, on the other hand, seemed to want to ask all sorts of questions. She must have had…a lot on her mind. 

“…Mm.” 

Confirming the recommended path on his sub-screen and the actual route he saw through the main screen, Shin paused Undertaker’s advance. Shin’s ability enabled him to accurately monitor the Legion’s condition, and Lena’s ability to keep track of the war situation was also impressive. But situations like these often occurred on the battlefield nonetheless. 

There were errors on the map. 

The recommended route pointed them to a service route meant for maintenance purposes—a cramped, thin corridor large enough to allow only one person to pass through. 

“There’s no path forward…? That can’t be.” 

“To be exact, there’s no path that a Juggernaut can pass through. It’s only natural, since this place wasn’t built to accommodate Feldreß.” 

Shin’s voice over the Resonance didn’t seem to mind it much. Mistaken information was likely a common occurrence on the battlefield he knew—but for Lena, his report was a bitter pill to swallow. 

It shouldn’t have been possible. This map data’s last update had been right after the facility’s latest repair and maintenance work. Mistaken map data could lead to lost lives in the subway tunnels, where visibility was obstructed and routes one could move along were limited, so Lena had made sure to confirm it as carefully as she could, yet still… 

A cold suspicion crossed her mind. It couldn’t be that the map is…? 

The map had been provided to them by the Republic’s interim government… The interim government that was now infiltrated by the Bleachers, who desired the return and restoration of the Eighty-Six. And as she looked at it more carefully, she saw that said service route was supposed to be meant for carrying equipment, according to the map, but compared to the layout of the place, it blatantly didn’t seem to fit with the other pathways and railway tracks in terms of depth. 

It can’t be. 

“Roger that. Look for a detour from said route… Second Lieutenant Marcel, could you analyze this map of the combat area and try to find any discrepancies with the structure?” 

Turning off the Para-RAID halfway through, she addressed the control officer sitting in the front seat ahead of her. This young man, who was the same age as Shin and his group and had the same special officer training as them, glanced at her and nodded lightly. 

“…It’ll take me some time, but probably.” 

“Then please do. This is top priority, so have it done as soon as possible.” 

“Roger that.” 

Frederica suddenly raised her face. 

“Mm, not good! Shinei, you must hurry!” 

She stood up and shouted, without even noticing she was doing so: 

“Run, Penrose! You mustn’t stay there!” 

Whoever had planned out this underground facility must have been a true idiot. She’d finally found a staircase that seemed as if it might lead her up, but after she climbed what felt like a whole floor’s worth of stairs, it turned into a one-way descent and led her to a different sector of the same floor. She knew she was lucky enough not being down in the subway tunnels, but this weird game of tag was grinding on her nerves. 

Annette looked around in annoyance. Her lab coat was trailing at her feet, so she took it off and draped it over her arm. In a complete turnaround from where she’d been before, the sector she was in right now looked to be some kind of factory. She was in a clean room or some kind of operating room: a dim, borderline-sterilized white space. 

It didn’t look anything like the station or its associated facilities. The Legion had probably repaired and rebuilt this section after occupying Charité. It was an elongated place, and Annette couldn’t make out the other end of the room, but deeper inside was what looked like a scanning device, along with a group of small beds set up in a rectangular shape, with thin robotic arms dangling from the ceiling toward them. 

Aside from the staircase, there was also a cramped corridor that looked to be a service route and a broader path that was likely used by the visiting customers. Along the broad path were marks left by something that had been dragged away, as well as countless scrapes and footprints. As she stood in front of the transparent wall partitioning where she was from the machinery, Annette’s gaze fell on a cluster of things arranged in neat rows. 

“……?” 

They were cylindrical glass containers, big enough to hold Annette with her in a standing position. Several of them were lined up in an orderly fashion, like display cases in a museum. They were filled with some kind of transparent liquid. The pedestals inside were illuminated by an artificial white glow that revealed the floating contents. Nothing was connected to them but the electrical cords that lit them up, and since there were no bubbles rising up in the liquid, she could tell that no oxygen was being pumped in, either. In other words, whatever was inside the cylinders wasn’t alive. 

She recognized the silhouettes of the contents but couldn’t properly identify them… No, she thought she knew, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand what it meant. She stepped forward and peered inside… 

…! 

This is…! 

The moment she realized what was inside the cylinders, she felt all the blood drain from her face. She’d gone pale, but the calm, calculated part of her that was a scientist couldn’t help but observe it with great detail. 

There were multiples of the same thing… No, there were several samples of the same thing gathered up. They were gradually organized by how much work had been put into each one, and there were several…several people’s worth in there. The Legion didn’t use numbers. There were no notes to explain this anywhere. But still she knew. 

This was… 

Something then looked at her from the other side of the cylinder. As Annette froze in place, the humanoid shape on the other side of the cylinder swayed. Its reflection moved with a delay as its clumsy movements, which seemed to come straight out of a horror movie, made Annette jump back in fright. 

The self-propelled mine crept over in pursuit of her. Its faceless globe of a head writhed like an insect, swerving in her direction. Gazing at Annette with its eyeless visage, it suddenly hopped nimbly at her the next moment like a spring. 

“No…!” 

In a stroke of luck, she remembered the lab coat she had draped over her arm. She threw it in a panic, and it fortunately spread out and covered the self-propelled mine’s head-mounted sensor unit. The blinded self-propelled mine could only fumble about pathetically as Annette cowered away with unsteady steps. 

Its head rattled in what were almost comical movements as it tried to remove the coat covering it, but the self-propelled mine’s hands couldn’t move as precisely as a human’s. It looked as if it couldn’t get the pesky fabric off. This was her chance to escape…! 

She was in a state of panic, fearing for her life, but that same fear froze her limbs. As she tried desperately to run, her legs stiffened against her will and her heels sank into a seam in the floor, making her topple over in a spectacular fashion. Her back had apparently hit the part of the transparent wall that corresponded with the door, because it opened inward without much resistance, causing her to tumble into the room back first. 

All manner of things crossed her spinning field of vision as she fell. This overly sterilized white space. The row of glass cases. The medical-looking scanning device. The table roughly the size and height of a cramped bed…made of easily cleanable metal. And the group of robotic arms above it, equipped with glinting blades. 

This was… 

…an operating table. 

Yes. 

This was a dissection room. 

A sharp sound blared out from the wall, rebounding off the glass door and causing her to freeze up. The self-propelled mine, which still had its optical sensor covered, raised its head at the sudden noise. Annette, who had fallen on her back, couldn’t move yet. The self-propelled mine got up, its body turning intently in her direction… 

…when the sound of something whistling through the air reached her ears. 

Something swung down like a hammer from behind the self-propelled mine, bashing it across the back of its head. 

It was an assault rifle’s gunstock, drawing a silver arc through the air. The collapsible-gunstock rifle given to Feldreß operators swung down on the weakly connected part of the self-propelled mine’s head with perfect accuracy, violently slamming into its head-mounted sensor unit. 

Unlike a bladed weapon, even women and children could use firearms, but the assault rifle’s weight made it heavier than most melee weapons. Especially a 7.62 mm assault rifle, made entirely of metal, that packed a weight of nearly five kilograms when loaded. 

The self-propelled mine, which was only slightly heavier than a human, was knocked away. It took two or three unsteady steps forward, its wobbling head’s sensor unit wavering as it tried to readjust it bearings. By that time, though, the assault rifle’s muzzle was already pointed its way. Lightly and easily, as if it were a handgun, the rifle was aimed and fired without mercy. 

Three bullets pierced the control module in the self-propelled mine’s chest. The shock waves from being hit rattled it—causing it to perform a peculiar dance before it crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Lowering the smoking barrel, Shin looked over the remains of his enemy as Annette—still on the floor—watched him with a stupefied expression. 

…When was it again? Back when she was little? She would go out to explore with her childhood friend only to lose sight of him and get lost. Annette would huddle beneath cover, not knowing where she was, and the boy would look for her, finding her after it had already gotten dark. 

Found you, Rita! 

Smiling as he always did, he would sneak up on her with footsteps that made no noise, just like his brother’s and father’s. She remembered his father once telling her it was because they were originally from a clan in the Empire tasked with guarding the emperor. He’d said he hoped that in this country, they wouldn’t have to teach their children how to fight and kill anyone. 

His wish would never be granted. And for the worst possible reason, at that. 

So even in military boots, with their hard soles, Shin’s footsteps were inaudible. But although that was no different from before, his hands were now used to handling firearms. Cold eyes. A virile form that fit the steel-blue flight suit he was wearing perfectly. 

Annette finally came to fully realize that everything was completely different now—the childhood friend she’d once known was long gone. What had happened back then and how she’d felt at the time were things that, at this point, existed only within her heart. If one were to search within Shin’s heart for what had happened back then, one wouldn’t find the girl he’d once known. But she still uttered his name, almost automatically. 

Shin. 

“…Captain Nouzen.” 

She thought she could feel his crimson eyes turn toward her. But in the next moment, he turned away, probably because someone else was approaching them. She could hear the sound of their military boots. The figure that appeared had an Eisen’s reddish-black hair and eyes and was clad in the Federacy’s flight suit. That was First Lieutenant Shuga, if she recalled correctly. 

“Fucking hell, man. Can’t you just shoot it like a normal person?” 

“Hitting it is faster in this kind of encounter. Besides, if I shot blindly, I might have hit the professor.” 

A 7.62 mm’s full-size rifle rounds were extremely lethal as antipersonnel weapons. Even if one didn’t hit a person’s head or torso, it could still easily kill depending on where it hit. It seemed Shin had been careful for that reason. 

“Are you all right, Major Penrose?” 

Contrary to the content of his question, his tone sounded utterly indifferent. Annette found herself frowning reflexively. 

“…Isn’t it obvious?! I was seconds away from death just now!” 

“Well, from the look of things, you’re not dead. You should be fine if you have energy to talk back,” replied Shin, a hint of exasperation in his features. 

They hadn’t had this kind of rough exchange since they were children—but everything was different now. 

“…Shin.” 

This time, she intently called his name, and it slipped through her lips without resistance. As far as he was concerned, she was a total stranger now. But she at least had to say this much. 

“I’m sorry.” 

For abandoning you. For not saving you. For doing nothing and for making excuses that there was nothing I could do. For making you worry over things you can’t remember and getting you selfishly involved with my atonement. 

“……?” 

Shin blinked, puzzled by the sudden apology. He gazed at Annette for a moment like a hunting dog that had been given an order it couldn’t comprehend, and then he looked away. 

“I’m not sure what you’re sorry about…” 

His voice was so deep it didn’t even remotely match the voice from her memories, and while he had once been the same height as her, he’d gotten much taller than her at some point. 

“…but as far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason for you to apologize to me… So don’t worry about it, Major Penrose.” 

Annette smiled, tears in her eyes. 

You don’t even remember, you dummy. You’re nothing like you were before. But this part of you…the way you’re always so kind to me it hurts… This part hasn’t changed. And that makes me feel just a little bit…lonely. 

“…You’re right.” 

When Shin reported back that Annette had been safely rescued, he heard the relief in Lena’s voice and couldn’t help but feel that not abandoning Annette had been the right decision. A few seconds later, another pair of footsteps rushed over toward them. Turning in the direction of the new person, Raiden placed a hand on his hip. 

“You’re late, Jaeger. We already told you there’s no need for caution right now.” 

“I understand your reasoning, but…still, I learned in training to always be cautious…” 

He couldn’t track the enemy if he was dead, so being cautious was the right decision, but… 

“I’m glad you guys came to rescue me, but why this lineup? Or rather…” 

Annette regarded them with half-lidded eyes after she’d been helped up to her feet and left with nothing to do. 

“Don’t tell me you guys came over like this.” 

“There was no path big enough for the Juggernauts to pass through,” explained Shin, gesturing toward the service route behind them. 

It was a cramped corridor full of twists and turns, wide enough to allow only one person to pass through. 

“Frederica saw that your situation was a race against time, so we took the shortest path available. If Juggernauts couldn’t pass through, the same should apply for the Legion, leaving passage only for people and self-propelled mines, and we can handle those with rifles… We weren’t sure we’d make it in time, though.” 

“…I see. I guess you’d need men to handle the heavy lifting, even if it was just for carrying my corpse back…” 

She sighed despondently for some reason and then gestured back with the same demeanor. 

“Well, while you’re here, have a look back here.” 

She’d gestured toward several cylinders they hadn’t quite noticed until she’d pointed them out. They glowed white and had multiple spheres floating inside them. Upon closer inspection, Shin realized what they were. 

“Human…?” 

They were transparent, like some kind of mineral crystal, but were similar to human craniums. The reason it was hard to say for sure was because they lacked that certain vividness organic tissue had. The eyeballs and muscle tissue had been removed. The bone structuring the skulls seemed to be made of blue metallic ore, while the cartilage appeared to be made of ruby. The brain matter looked like peridot. 

The white light rendered them transparent as they floated in the cylinders like elaborate works of art. Judging from their sizes, the heads came from men, women, and children, and there were several of each type. Empty eye sockets stared out from neighboring cylinders. 

Raiden, who stood next to Shin, squinted at the sight. Perhaps Dustin was imagining how these heads ended up in this state, because they could hear him swallow nervously. 

“Transparent specimens. The Legion used drugs to render the biological tissue transparent and dye it over. I’m not sure what they did to dye the nervous system, though.” 

“…Were those originally human corpses?” 

“You say it like it’s nothing… But yes, that’s right. These are real human heads. Probably Republic citizens that were rounded up during the large-scale offensive.” 

Sounding nauseated, Dustin added, “I’m surprised you’re taking this so well.” 

“I’m used to seeing severed heads. This case is actually more palatable than most, since they’ve been severed cleanly.” 

“I know it’s not your fault, but being used to corpses is still a little much… And I’m talking about the first lieutenant over there, too. Second Lieutenant Jaeger’s reaction was actually pretty normal, so maybe you should take a page out of his book.” 

Even as she said that, she returned her attention to the severed heads of her compatriots. 

“This is probably some kind of guide for how to cut open stolen heads and remove their brains. It tells them all the steps involved, like where and how to cut, so they can produce intelligent Legion—what you guys call Black Sheep and Shepherds.” 

As they turned their gazes to her, Annette shrugged. 

“I read the report you submitted to the Federacy military regarding the Legion, and Lena calls them that, too.” 

The technical officer of the Republic’s former research division then looked at Shin out of the corner of her eye. 

“You’re lucky the people at the Transport Division wouldn’t do their jobs properly. If they had, you might’ve been decorating my lab just like the people in these cylinders.” 

“…What are you talking about?” 

“Undertaker, the possessed Processor who breaks his Handlers. The ghost stories people tell on the battlefield are one thing, but once people started offing themselves, I got requests to investigate you… What a missed opportunity. If they’d brought you over, I’d have picked your brain open and gotten a real good look.” 

Dustin’s eyes widened, and Raiden cocked an eyebrow, but Shin didn’t seem fazed. 

“I doubt someone who doesn’t reek of blood could do that.” 

“That’s—” 

Annette tried to say something in protest…but eventually dropped her shoulders and smiled weakly, looking exhausted. 

“That’s right… I don’t have the guts to do something like that, much less a reason.” 

She didn’t mean just the atrocity of dissecting a live person but also the act of boasting about her own faults, trying to make herself out to be more terrible than she truly was. 

“…Anyway, that’s what this is. A guide for producing Shepherds… Except…” 

She tapped the farthest cylinder, which looked to be the final phase in whatever this was. 

“…this one here is bothering me. Its hippocampus is totally destroyed… The Shepherds use undamaged brains, right? So why do you suppose they’d intentionally damage part of the brain?” 

“Looks like they didn’t think we’d get this far in. There isn’t a single unit on patrol.” 

The fifth level’s central main hall. In the middle of a place so dyed over with white it was maddening, Shiden smirked from inside Cyclops’s cockpit. The entirety of this space—its ceiling, walls, and floor—was covered with small white tiles. It was translucent white darkness, as hazy as fresh snow. This place should have been part of the station, too, so if the interior had remained unchanged this entire time, then…the Republic must have reeeally coveted the color white, to put it mildly. And if that was the case, they shouldn’t have accepted immigrants to begin with. 

The massive shadow lurking in the depths of the room didn’t answer them. Silver tubes piled over one another, writhing like the organs or blood vessels of some unknown creature. Its trunk had a thin metal plate over it that seemed to be breathing somehow. It had what looked like eight thin legs, which were so disproportionate to its weight that Shiden wondered why they were even there, and finally a composite sensor that looked like a moth’s feelers and an optical sensor that looked like an insect’s eyes. 

This was the Admiral…or rather, its control module. 

Its blue optical sensor swerved sluggishly. Its abdomen was probably connected to the reactor farther underground. It was buried inside the white tiles and was probably incapable of moving. From the way it looked, it was an easy target. 

“…Well, I doubt this’ll go smoothly.” 

White lines of light ran across the hall’s floor. Arbitrarily and then horizontally. A grid of light hit the corner of the floor twenty centimeters away. 

“Knew it…!” 

She braced herself—but as it turned out, it was only a beam of light. Only her Juggernaut’s leg was touching the beam, but it wasn’t taking any kind of damage. Lattices of light began covering the floor, as if to expose the coordinates to something— 

Shiden’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up. At that same moment, Cyclops’s enhanced sensors blared out an alarm that rattled her eardrums. Enemy proximity alert. Its location was—immediately above her! 

As she looked up, the optical sensors followed suit, and after a brief lag, the image of the ceiling appeared on her optical screen. There were luminous points dotting the transparent ceiling tiles, and the moment she noticed them, Shiden shouted out instinctively: 

“Mika, Rena, jump to the sides! Alto, don’t move!” 

And just as she gave the warning, several sharp blue beams of light pierced the hall’s airspace from top to bottom. As everyone’s units performed evasive maneuvers in response to the warning, a ray of light grazed over Alto’s unit, which lay facedown with its legs retracted, and another ray passed by Mika’s unit horizontally. A moment later, the fuselage of Rena’s unit, which had failed to evade in time, was skewered from directly above. 

“Rena?!” 

The Juggernaut crumpled silently without so much as a scream from within as the ray of light pierced through the cockpit. This thin ray of condensed light pierced through the 88 mm turret’s barrel laid over the cockpit without so much as a sound. The spears of light that had scraped and pierced the Juggernauts were absorbed by the half-transparent floor tiles, and then they dispersed and disappeared. 

“Were those…lasers…?!” 

“Looks like it.” 

She swiftly replied to Shana’s—her vice captain’s—cry. After all, they’d entered the internment camps when they were seven years old or so, and they’d only just recently started attending something kind of like school—the special officer academy. They didn’t have the knowledge to accurately analyze the situation, though the Reaper and his werewolf of a vice captain apparently had gotten some education, annoyingly enough. They might have gotten a better handle on the situation. 

Curling her lips bitterly, she kept her eyes open. She couldn’t see it directly, but the radar screen showed her the enemy’s positions scattering. A blue luminous point lit up in the ceiling. She issued a warning to the Juggernaut standing directly below it, which jumped back a moment before another laser pierced where it had once stood at what was quite literally the speed of light. 

The laser skimmed the pile driver of her right leg, which burst in a shower of flames and black smoke. As Cyclops retreated while leaving a trail of smoke behind her, Shiden narrowed her eyes. 

So that’s what’s going on. 

“Those lines on the floor are coordinates, and when you step on them, the lasers fire in that direction… This whole room’s a Legion. It can’t follow us with its eyes to attack us when we’re in its belly.” 

It was probably faster for the lasers to receive their coordinates directly via data link rather than rely on optical sensors to handle them individually. She could feel Shana furrow her brow. 

“The grids are so narrow, it’s impossible for a Juggernaut to avoid stepping on them.” 

“Yeah, but even if we step on them, it doesn’t look like it can fire at all of us at once. It’s not equipped to fire at twenty-four units simultaneously.” 

It fired multiple lasers per target, rather than one for each, to ensure it hit, meaning it could attack only a few targets at once. In which case… 

“My Cyclops has a grasp on how many firing units there are and where they’re situated… If we’re gonna use that interval to shoot at it, we’ll have to open fire either just after or a second before we hear the alert.” 

Only the Juggernauts that were being fired at would have to take evasive maneuvers, while all other remaining units fired. As with all modern weapons, the laser units moved after they shot, but they had to stop moving for a moment before firing. That would be the Juggernauts’ window to gun them down. 

“Cyclops to all units… Retaliate after the enemy’s next barrage. On my command—” 

The proximity alert blared again. Shiden’s eyes were drawn to the radar screen, where blips appeared around her unit’s position, except there was nothing in her coplanar field of vision. The number of laser units on the ceiling above them increased abruptly. It likely took time for the defense system to kick in completely, or perhaps the consciousness of the dead person incorporated into the Admiral had an unfavorable disposition when it came to operating the laser units. 

As they looked up in astonishment, blue lights lit up at once through the half-transparent tiles, as if to mock these girls’ efforts. 

“…Jaeger, let Professor Penrose ride in your rig. Move to the center of the back row and avoid combat as much as you can. Rito, hold on just a bit longer. We’ll head your way once we entrust the professor to our succeeding unit.” 

“Roger that, Cap’n, but come over ASAP!” 

It seemed Jaeger and Rito were engaging the defensive unit several hundred meters away from the Weisel. Cutting out Rito’s near scream, Shin brought Undertaker to its feet. While the self-propelled mines were brittle, Undertaker wasn’t armed with machine guns, so Shin couldn’t fight them efficiently. Theo’s vanguard platoon and Raiden’s covering-fire platoon took the front, advancing while engaging the mixture of self-propelled mines and humans by alternating between their laser sights and machine guns. 

Letting out hoarse shouts, the silhouettes of what were likely humans retreated, going the opposite direction from the Spearhead squadron. The armored infantry who were following them hadn’t caught up yet, but they would likely take whatever human found them under their protection. Doing so was likely why they were lagging behind in the first place. 

Suddenly, Lena’s voice cut into the Resonance. 

“Captain Nouzen, I’m sorry to interrupt in the middle of battle.” 

“Colonel… What is it?” 

When she told him about what was happening on the other side of the battlefield, he furrowed his brow. That sounded difficult, for sure… No. The Brísingamen squadron was in the fifth level’s central block, while the Spearhead squadron was advancing toward the eastern end of the fourth level. There was no direct path leading there, but in terms of direct distance, they were just a few kilometers away. It was actually close, as combat distance went. 

“Dammit…!” 

As she continued sending warnings to her allies who were in the enemy’s sights, Shiden gritted her teeth. She grasped the position of all the laser units—which Lena had dubbed the Biene (the Fire Extension type) upon receiving the report about them. Shiden knew who would likely be aimed at next, too. 

But there were too many of them. Her consort units that had the time to fire couldn’t keep up with the Biene’s cycles of high-speed movement and shooting, and she couldn’t predict where they would stop to shoot next. Taking out even a scant few of them was the most they could manage so far. 

“…Shiden. Do you want the Thunderbolt squadron to join up with you?” 

“Cut the bullshit, Yuuto! The second you all get here, you’ll be in their sights. Forget it. Just secure our path of retreat.” 

Shiden herself wanted to retreat and regroup for the time being, but it seemed the Biene were configured to prioritize shooting near the entrance first. Two or three of her squad mates had attempted to head there, and it resulted only in their being killed by an intricate grid of lasers… A nasty setup. The spears of light didn’t give them a moment to breathe, rushing them down and, at times, mowing them down. 

Her squad mates were evading to the best of their abilities, but their breathing was growing ragged due to overexertion. Cases where they fumbled their maneuvers, resulting in their piles and machine guns getting blown away, were becoming more frequent. It was only a matter of time until another person took a direct hit. Was their only choice to shoot down the ceiling and take out the enemy while burying themselves alive…? 

It was then that a cold voice interrupted her troubling thoughts. 

“—All units, switch ammunition to high-explosive rounds.” 

Shiden’s odd eyes widened. That voice. 

“Nouzen…?!” 

“I’ll take over relaying the targets. You prioritize ordering them to dodge… I can determine the Legion’s positions, but I can’t see which Juggernauts are being aimed at.” 

Shiden was dumbfounded for a moment before breaking into her trademark grin. He was in the middle of battle himself, and still… 

“…You’re somethin’ else, you know that, Li’l Reaper?” 

Shaking her head, she looked up to the ceiling. The blips of the Biene were still filling up her radar screen. Shin couldn’t see the Juggernauts’ movements… He couldn’t tell who was going to be firing at the enemy. In which case… 

“Just give us their coordinates. No one here’ll confuse our voices. All units! Li’l Reaper’s gonna be our oracle for today and tell us where to shoot. Whoever’s closest to where he calls out—doesn’t matter who—shoot on his order!” 

It was an outrageous command, but no one put up an argument. Hearing a click of the tongue on the other side of the Resonance, which was as jumbled with the ghosts’ moans as always, filled her with a strange sensation. 

“—Distance 22. That’s the last one, Shiden.” 

“Yeah, I got it covered—Alto, fire!” 

The final shot, a buckshot bombardment, bore into the gouged white ceiling. A small, spiderlike Legion fell from the ceiling between the debris, the oscillation device in its stomach emitting a blue glow. After watching it take a barrage of machine-gun fire and fall silent after rolling over on the floor, Shiden pushed Cyclops’s control stick forward. 

Breaking into a jog as if it had been kicked into action, Cyclops charged at the Admiral’s massive butterfly-like compound eyes. Even without any means to defend itself, the noncombatant Legion unit still raised its head gravely, as if to greet its tiny opponent. Her Resonance with Shin allowed Shiden to hear the Legion’s voice. 

“All hail the Empire! Heil dem Reich!” 

The high voice, likely a woman’s, emerged from the Legion’s rear top section. Being commander units, the Shepherds continually repeated the laments of people who had once died. 

Juggernauts weren’t good at firing at extreme angles of elevation. This Legion was a dozen meters tall, and shooting directly at the top of it was difficult, but… 

“Shiden!” 

Picking up on the problem, Shana maneuvered her Juggernaut into a crouch. The moment Cyclops hopped on its turret’s back, it released its limiters and forced its four legs into a full-strength leap. By adding the leg strength of the Juggernaut it was riding on to its own, Cyclops reached a height well beyond its specs’ capabilities. 

It drove an anchor into the dome-shaped ceiling, then reeled it back at full force and clung to the surface. Kicking against the ceiling, which had now become its floor, it dived down diagonally—its muzzle aimed toward the wailing voice. Its sights were fixed on its target’s rear, in the gap between its wings. 

“Heil dem Reich!” 

“Shut the hell up and stay dead for once.” 

Shiden pulled the trigger. 

The 88 mm APFSDS whistled out of her turret and pierced the Admiral’s back directly. Like a spear descending from the heavens, as if to deliver judgment for the Admiral’s earlier action, the APFSDS skewered it. Even unarmored, it had a gigantic frame. The depleted uranium shell traveled through the Admiral’s interior structure, eventually losing its kinetic energy and bouncing back from its failed attempt to pierce through the frame of its chest. 

It ricocheted around its insides, tearing its internal structure apart all the while, reducing the Liquid Micromachines to dust with its unique immolating flames. The long-dead ghost cried out in agony, its screams echoing in their ears. The Admiral’s head sank heavily to the floor, and Shiden scoffed as she landed next to it. 

“Your Majesty, the Admiral’s down. Right, Nouzen?” 

“Yeah… Looks that way.” 

“…What’s that half-hearted response for?!” 

“You can figure that out on your own, can’t you? Don’t ask pointless questions.” 

Lena smiled at the sound of them bickering again the moment things calmed down. Annette had been rescued, and the Admiral had been destroyed. Their completing one of their objectives seemed to have given them the leisure to squabble. 

“Good work, Captain Nouzen and Second Lieutenant Iida. Proceed to eliminate the Weisel next. Captain Nouzen, leave Major Penrose with the armored infantry.” 

“Roger.” 

“And once we get rid of the Weisel, all that’s left is clearing out the remaining enemies… Lady-Killer, I know they’re still skulking around, but how many of them are left?” 

“…Do you really want to know?” 

“Ah, no, forget it. That’s all I needed to hear.” 

Shiden sounded absolutely fed up. Lena chuckled. 

“Just a little more until we accomplish our objectives. Keep up the good work.” 

The great amounts of sediment and concrete covering their position did nothing to prevent the communication through the Eintagsfliege resting their wings within it. 

<Destruction of Matrix 277 confirmed. Command transferred to Hermes One.> 

<Hermes One to first wide area network.> 

<Transfer of all research data complete. Abdication of Production Facility 277 decided. Execute secrecy measures.> 

<Lifting of stasis on Classified Article 27708 required for execution of secrecy measures—requesting confirmation.> 

<First wide area network to Hermes One. Request approved.> 

<Acknowledged.> 

Communications concluded, and immediately, orders were issued to all subordinates down in the darkness. 

<Hermes One to all units. Download 27708. Commence conversion.> 

<Executing.> 

At that moment, a voice bubbled up from the depths of the fallen capital, from the depths where the sun could not reach—as if to curse, as if to praise, a sorrowful scream burst forth like a newborn’s cry. 

“Ugh…!” 

The Legion’s cries suddenly intensified in volume, forcing Shin to crouch and cover his ears. It was a meaningless gesture, since it wasn’t physical noise to begin with, but he couldn’t help doing so. Countless cries, wails, and moans of anguish and misery swelled up, like blades tearing into his very thoughts and burning his mind incessantly. 

His head felt as if it might split in two. His sanity was being wrenched apart. One person’s mind could not hope to withstand this unrelenting onslaught of the tortured wails of the damned. The sensory overload made all other sensations peter out. As his field of vision constricted and his consciousness was bleached in the color of blood, he cast one final thought into the abyss—and soon that, too, cut out entirely. 

It can’t be. 

“Whoa!” 

Shiden covered her ears with her hands, unable to process the bloodcurdling vortex of screams drowning her mind. Even with her synchronization rate set to the absolute minimum, the storm of voices still raged in her ears. Instinctively cutting off her Resonance with Shin, she gritted her teeth as she tried to calm her agitated consciousness. The team captains exchanged nervous, terrified words over the Resonance. 

What…was that…? 

After a moment of bewilderment, Shiden shook her head. 

Get ahold of yourself. There’s no time to question it. Something definitely happened. 

She tried to reconnect to Shin, but she couldn’t Resonate. He’d either removed the RAID Device or passed out from the strain… Or—and she really didn’t want to consider it—maybe whatever just happened had straight-up killed him. 

If something happened to the unit captain, Shin, his vice captain, Raiden, would have to take over for him. He likely wouldn’t have the wherewithal to explain the situation. In that case— 

“Yo, Theo! What happened?! Did those hunks of scrap metal attack us again?!” 

She swiftly changed her Sensory Resonance target to Theo. Each of the Spearhead squadron’s Processors had Resonated with the other squads’ captains and vice captains… Probably the kind of conduct one would expect from the elite of the elite who had served in the first ward’s first defensive unit, Spearhead, two years ago. Their thinking was rapid, and they concluded who they should share information with right now. 

“All captains, this is a proxy message! …First, that Legion voice just now wasn’t an attack! Shin is unresponsive, so assume defensive positions until we assess the situation!” 

It seemed Theo hadn’t quite caught up to the situation yet, either. Perhaps noticing that, he took a moment to breathe and then continued in a more restrained tone: 

“Also, this is just speculation, but…I think I recognize what kind of voices those were.” 

Theo grimaced as he said that. He’d remembered it from his time in the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s first ward’s first defensive unit two years ago, during the final battle. At the start of their death march known as the Special Reconnaissance mission. 

After fighting by Shin’s side for nearly three years, he’d thought he’d gotten used to it, but even at the lowest synchronization rate, he couldn’t help but tremble in terror when he heard that scream overflowing with murderous intent. 

There was still no response from Shin. 

“A Shepherd—if several of them were to cry out at the same time, that’s what they’d sound like.” 

Shiden butted in, sounding suspicious. 

“Wait just a sec. I thought the Shepherds were limited in number. There were only a hundred or so in the Republic’s territories… And what we just heard wasn’t only one or two of them. Don’t fuck around—it’s like you’re saying every Legion in here is a Shepherd.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably what it means.” 

But how is that even…? 

“…No way.” 

She felt something cold rush down her spine. Her radar screen was full of blips. Cyclops picked up the approaching hostiles one after another. The Legion surged up from below, with the bloodcurdling roar emanating from the bottom of the earth at their back. 

It couldn’t be. 

“You’re saying these are all Shepherds…?!” 

The Legion’s central processors were modeled after a large mammal’s central nervous system and coded with an unchangeable life span set by the Empire, which had created them. Fifty thousand hours for every version—roughly six years. Once that time lapsed, the structures of their central processors would collapse, and they would cease to function—a fail-safe introduced by the Empire just in case the Legion went berserk. 

Once the Empire fell, the Legion could no longer receive further version updates. But spurred by their original orders to fight, the Legion needed to find a substitute for their central processors. And fortunately, an alternative was readily available. An impressively developed neural network, remarkable even among large mammals. 

The human brain. 

But the Legion could meet humankind only on the battlefield, and corpses without damage to their craniums were few and far between. The Republic, which neglected to collect its corpses and even sent out small squadrons on death marches every so often, was the battlefield that yielded the most brains to plunder—in fact, the majority of the Black Sheep and Shepherds across the continent had been seized in the anti-Republic campaign. But that was a relative figure. 

The majority of the raids had been carried out during that suppression operation. They hadn’t fought. They hadn’t committed suicide, either. They’d never bothered recovering or killing those dragged away by the Tausendfüßler. The easiest of hunting grounds, where prey only ran about powerlessly. 

The eighty-five administrative Sectors of the Republic of San Magnolia. 

They may have cast their minority, the Eighty-Six, out into the Eighty-Sixth Sector, but they were still an advanced nation with the population and territory to match that of the continent’s west. And so the civilians the Legion had pillaged away were, indeed… 

…ten million in number. 

“…But why would the number of Shepherds increase so suddenly?” 

Lena moaned, supporting her body, which was on the verge of falling over, as she prodded at the console. Reports streamed in from all squadrons under her command in rapid succession. The behavioral patterns of Legion that had already been encountered had suddenly changed. They’d started predicting the directions units would go in and luring them in with unusual formations, cornering Federacy soldiers and experienced Eighty-Six alike with ease. 

Shepherds. Legion commander units that preserved the intelligence they’d had in life. They were always challenging foes, but never had they appeared in large groups like this, as if they were rank-and-file troops. 

No, why or how their number had increased wasn’t even the issue. The question was: Why bring them in now? Why use them as a defensive force and introduce them to the battle only after the Admiral had been destroyed and half the facility had been suppressed? 

“…!” 

A new fear overtook Lena as her eyes widened with understanding. She lifted her head. 

“Vanadis HQ to all units!” 

“—n, Shin! Yo!” 

Shin finally came to his senses upon hearing his name and having his shoulders shaken violently. 

His crimson eyes, which had been staring blankly into space until now, came back into focus. 

“Raiden…” 

“Welcome back.” 

Raiden sighed in relief. They were both inside Undertaker’s cockpit, its canopy having been forcibly opened. Undertaker and Wehrwolf were pushed against a thick concrete wall, with the rest of their squad’s units forming a strong defensive perimeter around them by arranging their Juggernauts in semicircles. 

Theo, Anju, and Kurena were in the outermost circle, locked in vicious combat. It was a do-or-die defensive formation that wouldn’t allow a single Legion or self-propelled mine to pass through. At their backs were Shin, who was incapacitated, and Raiden, who’d disembarked from Wehrwolf to check in on him. 

The Legion’s front lines were composed entirely of Shepherds. Their howling thundered in Shin’s ears at this short distance, and their numbers were rising still. Those that stood at the back of the line of battle bolted upright suddenly, and just as he thought the voices of the dead seemed to have stopped emanating from them, a howl with the voice of a different person from the one possessing the front lines boomed into his mind before they pressed forward, as if craving the chance to do battle. 

The same scene was apparently taking place in many locations across the underground facility. The distant voices of the Black Sheep, which had been an indistinguishable cluster before, were being replaced with the voices of Shepherds. Shin had to banish the obvious question of why from his mind. 

“…How long was I out?” 

“Less than ten minutes. We dragged Undertaker over here and formed the defensive formation, and I got your canopy open just now… I was gonna drag you back to Wehrwolf if you didn’t wake up.” 

Raiden winced at the idea of something so unpleasant. 

“You…look like shit. Can you move?” 

Shin heaved a long sigh. He’d gotten used to this. The unending screams were still threatening to split his mind in half, and the voice of Raiden, who was right in front of him, felt way more distant than they did… But he could move. 

“…Yeah.” 

“Then try to follow us until we can break out of here… We got orders to retreat.” 

Such an unexpected statement made Shin look back at him dubiously. 

Retreat? At this point in the operation? When the Weisel hadn’t been destroyed yet? 

“Retreat…?” 

“Allow me to briefly explain the situation, Captain Nouzen.” 

She’d finally managed to Resonate with Shin again, but the piercing wails of ghosts that bore down on her like a sharp blade even when Resonated at the lowest possible synchronization rate—and most of all Shin’s own pained, labored breathing—filled her with anxiety. 

“The details are still unclear, but multiple Shepherds appeared among the enemy’s forces… This has forced us to suspend our advance and focus on defense or retreat.” 

“…I think the simple explanation is that all the Legion here downloaded the Shepherds’ neural networks or whatever. The total number of voices you can hear isn’t changing, but the number of Shepherds is growing, right?” 

Lena shook her head as Annette cut into their conversation. 

“We can leave analysis for later—the introduction of these reinforcements only occurred after the Admiral, which should have been an important defensive target for the Legion, was destroyed. This mass of Shepherds was introduced when they were more of a confidential secret than the Admiral itself. Which means…” 

“Maintaining secrecy—right?” 

“Yes. They’re intending to wipe out the invading force for that reason.” 

For the Legion, hiding the existence of this mass of Shepherds was more important than the Admiral—more important than this production base. This stimulation of theirs was conducted by the Eintagsfliege, which meant it was likely some kind of data. It was theorized that what they’d gained was the Shepherds’ neural networks, but there were other possibilities as well. Being able to confirm which one was true would have been preferable, but it was too late for that now. 

“We’ve destroyed our first objective, the Admiral. The Weisel can’t move now. We’ve concluded that you’ve completed the mission and are to retreat from the hot zone immediately… Get out of there as soon as you can.” 

Cutting her Resonance with Shin, Lena whispered to Annette. 

“But, Annette, how is this possible?” 

Pulling the outrageous stunt of a download in the middle of battle was beside the point; those were the enemy’s circumstances. But how had the Shepherds multiplied? Only one Shepherd could be produced from each dead human. They may have captured many Republic civilians during the large-scale offensive, but would they use them up like disposable pawns in this kind of battle? 

“I think what I found earlier, the Legion’s guide for removing brains, is the answer.” 

Annette’s voice was bitter. She was currently riding in Dustin’s Juggernaut and spoke quietly so he wouldn’t hear her. 

“That was actually something that always bothered me ever since I read Captain Nouzen’s report. If the Shepherds’ central processors— If undamaged neural networks are so precious to the Legion, why don’t they turn all the Legion into Shepherds?” 

Lena had heard about it before. The total sum of Shepherds in all the Republic’s past fronts put together was a mere hundred or so. That was the extent of the undamaged brains the Legion had managed to collect. But if they didn’t use actual brains and instead used mere copies of their networks, it didn’t stand to reason. They could give multiple units a copy of the same neural network, and yet they didn’t. They could replicate Black Sheep using damaged neural networks, but not undamaged ones. 

“All the brain samples I saw earlier had their hippocampi destroyed. I think therein lies the answer… Could you stay sane if your exact replica was standing right in front of you, Lena? They probably couldn’t replicate them because they still had their memories from when they were alive.” 

Identity. That one trait possessed by all humans made them impossibly different from the soulless killing machines the Weisel churned out like the black smoke erupting from its chimneys. 

“So that means…” 

“Yeah, things are gonna be different from now on. The Shepherds are going to start multiplying like never before. All the Legion produced from now on—including the Black Sheep—are going to be intelligent.” 

This had likely started after the Republic’s fall, when the Legion got their hands on more humans than ever before. Undamaged human brains stopped being a rare commodity for them, allowing them to freely test ways to hack human brains so that they could remove the foreign element called individuality in a way that didn’t eliminate their value as central processors. 

Even if the Legion were capable of autonomous battle in a way that no other country could replicate, their original cognitive capabilities were far inferior to those of humans. But from now on, that sole weakness would be no more. The strong, unflinching Legion, which knew no fatigue, would soon acquire intelligence equal to that of humans, down to their rank-and-file soldiers… They would become capable of executing complex operations, just like humankind. 

The implications of that made Lena shudder, and that was likely why Annette didn’t say any more. This wasn’t something the Processors needed to hear in the middle of a battle. The proud Eighty-Six would likely continue fighting in spite of that knowledge, though. 

But in all likelihood, humankind…would lose to the Legion after all. 

“…And that’s the gist of it. Follow us until we break out of here. And don’t go into combat. Stay in the back row with Jaeger and be good.” 

Shin grimaced when Raiden, who’d boarded Wehrwolf, told him that. 

“I’m not sure that’s an option.” 

He realized being treated like a burden was unavoidable…but given the situation… 

“There’s a world of difference between a Black Sheep’s combat capabilities and a Shepherd’s. I can’t stay out of this when the enemy’s strength is effectively increasing.” 

“…You serious?” 

“I won’t do anything reckless… I don’t intend to die here.” 

Six months ago, and maybe even before that, he’d been wandering the battlefield in search of a place to die, without even realizing it. But things were different now. 

“……” 

After roughly combing through his short hair with his fingers, Raiden sighed deeply. 

“…The second things get too dicey, we’re knocking you out and dragging you away. Got it? That’s my right and responsibility as vice captain. Any complaints?” 

“None. But you should probably save statements like that for the day you’re actually able to knock me out.” 

Raiden didn’t laugh at Shin’s forced attempt at a jab, but he did scoff at it. Even as Shin was holding back a sense of vertigo that threatened to overcome him at any moment, he suddenly remembered something. Something Frederica had told him once… A mere six months ago, in fact. 

You should rely on those walking by your side for support. 

“…Thanks. I’ll leave command to you.” 

There was a pause, and this time, Shin felt Raiden smirk back at him. 

“Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t listen to your orders right now as it is. The way you look, I can only see you screwing something up.” 

“Theo! We’re retreating! Make us a way out!” 

“Roger. Uh…” 

As he scoured the thick lines of the Legion in search of an opening he could exploit, his eyes stopped on a certain point. A group of self-propelled mines were heading in the opposite direction, paying no attention to the Juggernauts. 

“The fuck…?” 

The self-propelled mines clung to the pillar supporting the ceiling one after another and self-destructed. It was an act of annihilation that was utterly meaningless in the face of taking out the Spearhead squadron. 

No… 

Shivers ran up his spine the moment he realized what they were doing. 

They’re planning to bring the whole place down on us. 

“Tch. Anju, Dustin! Fire all your explosive shells at the corridor on the right! Open a way out—now!” 

Anju’s Snow Witch responded immediately, as did Dustin’s Sagittarius a moment later, releasing all the explosive projectiles they had in the direction he’d instructed them to. The Legion units in that direction were blown away, sprayed with fragments, opening a path in the enemy’s offensive line. 

“All units, after me! Shin, don’t lag behind!” 

Confirming out of the corner of his eye that Undertaker rose to its feet and Wehrwolf took its position in the back of the formation, Laughing Fox took off down the opened path. He pushed aside the self-propelled mines rushing to get in his way with his muzzle and blew them away with short-range machine-gun fire. Ameise tried to rush them from their flank, only to be crushed by Gunslinger’s pile drivers. Covering for Snow Witch, which didn’t have the time to reload, Wehrwolf unleashed machine-gun fire left and right. 

Behind them, the self-propelled mines were still clinging to the pillar and self-destructing. Since they were mostly antipersonnel weapons, the intensity of the individual explosions wasn’t all that impressive. A single antipersonnel mine couldn’t even penetrate a Juggernaut’s armor. But through repeated blasts, the reinforced concrete pillar was gradually being whittled down. 

Shaking off the Grauwolf types in pursuit of them, they dived into the tunnels. There were no enemies inside. Right after Wehrwolf tumbled into the tunnel, the pillar crumbled and finally broke. The other pillars bent under the additional strain, and the ceiling caved in with nothing to support it. 

The battlefield they’d been on just a moment ago was buried under a massive shower of sediment, rendering even the Eighty-Six speechless. 

“So. Even the self-propelled mines are intelligent at this point.” 

Lena nodded bitterly. She’d received similar reports from other squadrons. Multiple parts of the underground facility had caved in as a result of bombing, with self-propelled mines ignoring the Juggernauts in front of them and going after support pillars. 

The Legion, which weren’t as intelligent as humans, couldn’t understand the causality of this act… Or rather, couldn’t until now. It seemed the self-propelled mines had come to realize that by toppling a minimal number of pillars, they could bury the battlefield altogether, which served as horrific proof of their intelligence. 

The self-propelled mines themselves, which were disposable even for the Legion, had become that intelligent. 

“But conversely, that means we can read their actions… If the self-propelled mines’ purpose is to destroy the facility, they’ll have to deploy the necessary numbers to the necessary positions to do so. If we destroy their forward path, they won’t be able to sabotage us any further. What this means is that the self-propelled mines would head to destroy the facilities farthest from them.” 

The Legion attacked in seemingly endless waves, but they did have a point of origin. If their corridors were to be buried by sediment, they wouldn’t be able to cross through to the space on the other side. 

“If we can just come up with the order they’ll do it in, you should be able to escape. And guessing at their order isn’t too difficult.” 

Looking up at the holo-screen gave her a clear view of where each of the squadrons was positioned. The Brísingamen squadron was on the fifth and lowest level. Spearhead, which had been deployed to find Annette, was at the eastern tip of the fourth level. She had to make sure that even they, far as they were from the exit, returned safely. 

“Captain Nouzen, I realize this is a difficult request, but search for the enemies’ movements again. If we can just tell where the Legion—where the self-propelled mines—are gathering, we should be able to calculate how to deploy our forces from now on.” 

“Roger.” 

Shortly after this somewhat pained response, a few points lit up on her map. He’d probably decided that using the barely online data link would be quicker than relaying the information orally. After applying corrections to a few points that seemed to be off on the vertical axis, she looked over the whole image and nodded. 

“At present, we conclude that our objective of destroying the Legion’s production facility has been successfully completed. All engaging squadrons are to begin their retreat from the hot zone immediately.” 

She then took a deep breath. 

“Second Lieutenant Michihi, set out and deploy the Lycaon squadron around the center of the first and second levels. The Nordlicht squadron is to lend three of its platoons to the Lycaon squadron.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“So only half of us will be defending HQ… No, we’ll make do somehow.” 

She sent in her reserve forces and some of the defense unit so they could maintain an escape route for the squadrons inside. They would have to find a way out in the meantime. 

“All units deployed in the facility—we will now begin navigating the retreat path and procedure. Obey my commands…without error and without delay.” 

Traversing the pitch-black darkness, the four-legged headless skeletons, those mechanical knights in metallic armor, faithfully followed the orders from the voice like a silver bell. 

“Thunderbolt squadron, cling to the central bypass between the fourth and fifth levels. Brísingamen squadron, report upon passing through… The Claymore squadron is to deploy in its current position. Maintain the position in question until the Spearhead squadron passes through.” 

“Roger. But the remaining ammunition for both of our main armaments and our machine guns is down to twenty percent. We can’t fight for long.” 

“Roger that… We’re running low on ammo, too, so hurry back, Cap’n!” 

While they had prioritized the destruction of the Admiral and the Weisel, the Legion had advanced in all directions. According to Shin’s report, part of the Legion’s remaining forces were retreating to the Legion’s territories from each level’s northern block. They left behind the strategically inferior self-propelled mines, the Black Sheep that hadn’t had their central processors changed, and damaged units that needed to be repaired as their guards while moving all their other forces to the central blocks first. 

“Brísingamen squadron has secured the fourth-level central block.” 

The most basic strategy when it came to marching through enemy territory was alternating advance. Multiple units moved in an alternating fashion, with those who were stopped holding the line to cover for those ahead of them. This held true during retreat, as well. A unit would hold the line until the forces ahead of them finished moving and then covered for them in turn, keeping the enemy in check with heavy fire. 

“Thunderbolt squadron has linked up with Brísingamen squadron. Spearhead squadron, hold your position until the Claymore squadron reaches the third level.” 

Damage reports were pouring in. Machine-gun ammunition depleted to zero. Light damage to armor. Slight damage to one rig. Medium damage to another. Troops injured—troops dying. As the squadrons and the armored infantry attached to them were being chipped away, they made their way to the surface. The transition from engaging to retreating came with great difficulty. 

“Lycaon squadron, we’ve confirmed the presence of Grauwolf types that purged their armor to reduce their overall width. This increases the number of paths they could take, so do be careful.” 

“Roger that…! I’m not sure we can handle many more of them, though…” 

“Quit your whining, princess! It’s just a little bit more! Show us you got what it takes to survive!” 

It was like a game of chess taking place in total darkness, with each side chipping away at the other’s pawns. 

Shepherds had an intelligence comparable to that of humans, so at times, they could predict people’s decisions and devise countermeasures. 

“Raiden, stay where you are! There’s an enemy ahead!” 

Just as Raiden was about to take a turn at an intersection, Shin’s warning prompted him to force Wehrwolf to emergency brake. Looking down the intersection’s turn, he saw a small tunnel with a Löwe’s massive form hidden inside. It lay in wait, its turret aimed directly at them, and with the tunnels being as narrow as they were, there was no way of crossing without getting in its line of fire. Defeating it would be challenging in and of itself. 

“Lena! We need a change in route—” 

“It’s fine. Let’s keep moving.” 

Just as someone interrupted Raiden, a Juggernaut slipped by Wehrwolf’s side, one that insisted on not exchanging its sniper cannon even in these cramped conditions. With a Personal Mark of a rifle with a scope attached to it. 

“Kurena?!” 

“We have to hurry back, right? I’m worried about Shin, too… If it can’t move, it’ll be easy enough…” 

Gunslinger casually jumped into the intersection. The Löwe reacted, its turret trembling, but before it could shoot, Gunslinger fired from a prone position. Flying in a trajectory that intersected with the Tank type’s 120 mm cannon, the 88 mm APFSDS rushed ahead, accurately connecting with the needlelike gap in its front armor, which was meant to enable the turret’s movement. 

It was the sole structural weakness in the Löwe’s bulky frontal defenses. Needless to say, it wasn’t a weakness one could easily aim at in a battlefield where both aggressors moved rapidly and aimed their turrets at each other. 

“…to hit it.” 

Gunslinger turned around calmly as the Löwe burst spectacularly into flames behind her and broke down. 

“Continue advancing at current speed for fifteen seconds, then take a left at the next corner.” 

The instructions led them to some kind of vast, warehouse-like space. There wasn’t a single source of light to illuminate the pitch blackness. At one corner of the elongated warehouse, which seemed to go on forever, groups of something wrapped in cloth were tightly packed together in a pile. 

The moment Raiden realized what they were, he instinctively shouted: 

“Frederica! Close your ‘eyes’!” 

“Aaah…?!” 

The warning came too late. The sound of the small girl’s screech filled the Resonance, followed by her anguished coughs and violent vomiting. 

Filling the large space, piled up to the ceiling, were deformed human skeletons stained and discolored by necrotic liquid. They numbered not in the hundreds or thousands, but roughly in the tens of thousands… A number that exceeded even the amount of people who’d died in the operation to eliminate the Morpho during the large-scale offensive lay before them, piled up like garbage after it had been processed. In all likelihood, the Legion saw them as one and the same. 

The skeletons at the bottom of the pile had been crushed by the weight of those above them, becoming a jumbled mess of corpse debris blended together. There wasn’t so much as a hint of dignity to them. Raiden averted his gaze from the corpses at the edges, which seemed to be relatively newer, as they were only partially discolored and mostly maintained their original forms. 

Raiden finally realized why the Legion had built this base here, even with the dregs of the newly weakened Republic being a prime target for elimination. They wanted to process these new corpses as quickly as possible. There were simply too many of them—so many that they couldn’t waste time bringing them all back to the rear. 

The only consolation was that these people likely weren’t conscious when they were dissected. Raiden shook his head, trying to shoo away the thoughts clinging to his mind. A human’s physical strength couldn’t even fight off a self-propelled mine, the lightest of the combatant Legion types. The Legion had no reason to suppress their “ingredients” by knocking them unconscious in the event of a struggle. Nor did they have any need to show pity. 

Capturing the enemy alive on a battlefield where each side sought the death of the other wasn’t simple. That meant most of the corpses here were captured Alba, who’d willingly forfeited the means to fight. But even still, thinking of the atrocities that had taken place here, far below the earth, for over six months…left a nasty taste in Raiden’s mouth. 

The ground the Juggernauts trod was oddly sticky for reasons they preferred not to think about. At the top of the mountain of bodies, at what was essentially its peak, was a skeletal corpse dressed in a familiar desert-camouflage uniform. A decomposed corpse they didn’t recognize, clad in a dress. A new corpse, lying around. Corpses. Corpses. So many corpses— 

As he ran between them, Raiden was overcome by an odd sense of despair. Death—and the Legion that delivered it—knew true equality. The Republic oppressors and the oppressed Eighty-Six were all the same to the Legion. They were the enemy—resources to be harvested. There was no room for distinction. No room for discrimination. 

The concept humankind couldn’t achieve despite pursuing it for thousands of years—equality—had been achieved by the mindless killing machines known as the Legion…in a manner that was all too ironic for humanity. 

The old woman who’d raised Raiden had once told him that humankind believed itself to be a unique presence made in the image of God. And if that was true, then humanity was, despite all the effort put into making it, a useless, failed product. 

“…It’s all pointless…” 

What was pointless? And why was it so? Even Raiden didn’t know as he whispered to himself so quietly it wasn’t even audible through the Para-RAID. 

“…So we gotta do this before it’s too late, huh?” 

The iron door to the warehouse flew open, probably because of the vibrations from the battle. Sitting inside Cyclops’s cockpit, Shiden sighed as she looked around the now-exposed warehouse. 

So that’s why humans were suddenly mixed into the battlefield. 

Lying on the warehouse floor were humanoid figures blackened with grime and filth. Their glass-bead-like silver eyes faintly reflected the dim light. They weren’t self-propelled mines, but humans. A group of Alba survivors captured during the large-scale offensive, it seemed. They were alive, and if given proper medical treatment, they would probably survive. 

But that would be the extent of it. 

The eyes staring into space were, as expected, completely void of consciousness or reasoning. They were the eyes of one who had already succumbed to insanity. 

Human sanity could be surprisingly fragile. If one were to simply deprive another of sunlight, proper food, their freedom, and their dignity, leaving cold, hunger, and fear in their stead, any strong-willed person would eventually snap. 

…She felt no pity for them. 

They were the sort of people who let countless Eighty-Six die, and they had met with a similar fate. Looking around, she saw no others like her here—not a single person without silver hair and eyes. Unlike the white pigs, Eighty-Six captives could have been captured on the battlefield but could have managed to kill themselves rather than be taken alive. Or maybe they’d simply lost to the white pigs’ numbers and been dissected first. 

“…Hmph.” 

Calling up her armament-selection screen, she loaded her weapon with a projectile that had high antipersonnel firepower. Tracing her gaze, the arm-mounted 88 mm smoothbore gun swiveled oddly and locked its sights. A target mark signifying a lock rolled over, and Shiden applied force to the trigger. 

“…I’ll pass.” 

Mumbling to herself, she moved her finger away. The Reginleif’s gun camera’s footage was compressed and preserved by the mission recorder, and this wasn’t the Eighty-Sixth Sector, where it went unchecked, so the Processors were required to submit it at the end of each mission. 

And while she didn’t feel an ounce of obligation toward it, she was currently one of the Federacy military’s dogs. She would have to abstain from any acts that might disturb her precious owners’ overinflated sense of pity and justice. The Federacy was all the same as the Republic in that once it grew tired of them, given an excuse to do so, it would dispose of the Eighty-Six at any time. 

“…What do we do, Shiden?” 

“Nothin’ we can do. They’re beyond saving.” 

Shiden answered Shana’s apathetic question with a snort. The reason the Legion didn’t use these humans wasn’t because they didn’t have enough time to remove their brains. It was likely because they were far too broken to be of use to them as Shepherds. Going to the trouble of bringing them back and trying to rehabilitate them would be a fruitless endeavor that wouldn’t do anyone any good. 

She turned around, her eyes lingering on the remains of a human skeleton that appeared half-eaten, scattered by the entrance. The skeleton’s skull was missing from the eyes up. The Legion had a disposal site somewhere else to dump what was left after they took what they wanted, so whoever was thrown in here was likely meant for some other purpose. Imagining it made Shiden sick. 

It didn’t just look half-eaten. 

“…Let’s go,” Shiden spat over her shoulder as she turned her back on the fate of the white pigs. 

By the time the Spearhead squadron reached the third level’s central hall, they felt as exhausted as if they’d spent the whole day running around. The pained breaths streaming in between the ghosts’ wails through the Sensory Resonance made Shin grimace. 

The strain on Shin was exceptional. Theo had taken over as vanguard, and they’d somehow managed to successfully withstand combat, but Shin’s breathing was quickly becoming more and more labored. 

We’ve gotta hurry and get to the second level fast… 

Once they regrouped with the Lycaon squadron—once they had more rigs on their side—the Spearhead squadron would feel confident enough to leave the area even if a total idiot gave them the order to do so. The more distance they put between themselves and the retreating Shepherds, the better. 

But contrary to Raiden’s hopes, his borrowed senses picked up wailing voices approaching them. Even the Juggernaut’s relatively narrow proximity sensors detected moving bodies coming toward them. From all of the hall’s exits, from behind every cover possible, they appeared. The angular silhouettes of self-propelled mines, Ameise, and Grauwolf types—a mixed group of Shepherds and Black Sheep that had stayed behind. 

The angular, metallic silhouette of a Grauwolf standing at the forefront suddenly emanated the familiar scream of a girl. 

“I don’t want to die.” 

“Kaie…!” 

That voice. 

The voice shriveled up and faded—only to be replaced and utterly drowned out by an unknown, thundering voice. 

<Hermes One to wide area network.> 

<High-priority target—call sign Báleygr—detected.> 

<Confirming recommended coping measures.> 

<Confirmation complete. Initiating coping measures.> 

Black Sheep, which were created from brains that had decayed with the passage of time since their death, didn’t retain their original personalities. But even so, Raiden and his comrades couldn’t help but feel deeply when faced with Black Sheep that possessed the voices of their dead comrades in their final hours. They would gun them down in battle with the hopes of setting them free, even if they were only copies. Kaie was that precious of a friend to them. 

And that very same Kaie was right before their eyes. 

“I don’t want to die.” 

“I don’t want to die.” 

Even as the “Kaies” were fighting, they vanished, one after another. They were overwritten by the neural network of some deceased soul they didn’t know, and they faded away without a trace. That, too, was a sort of release, but the coldness of sending her out to fight and then erasing her when she was no longer needed… Even if she were to fight here, she would be destroyed and wiped out without a trace. Even after death, she wouldn’t be free from the fate awaiting all Eighty-Six, to die as they had lived… And that was all too infuriating. 

“Shit…!” 

Swearing, Raiden trampled the Grauwolf opposing him. That thing wasn’t Kaie anymore. That thing that, despite how tortured its mechanical scream was, likely lacked any will or words wasn’t her. 

At that moment, a heavy crashing noise rumbled through the area. The destructive sound of ten-ton units clashing against one another at high speed. A Juggernaut was blown back, directly taking a Grauwolf’s ramming attack. At the flank of its armor was the Personal Mark of a headless skeleton bearing a shovel. 

“Shin?!” 

The moment Shin realized what was happening, it was already too late. The high-frequency blade he swung down failed to stop the “Kaie” before his eyes from rushing him, and he tried to take a slight step to the right to avoid it. The blade cut into the left side of “Kaie’s” mass but did nothing to slow down its tackle. It drove all its weight and momentum against Undertaker’s cockpit block. 

“Nng…!” 

Even Shin, with his borderline superhuman reflexes, couldn’t avoid the tackle. Taking the full brunt of the blow, Undertaker was blown backward. If this had been the Republic’s walking coffin, whose cockpit was connected loosely, the attack would have unhinged the frame and cut the whole thing—the Processor included—in half. The Reginleif was sturdier than that, though, and was only thrown back. 

As he soared through the air, he saw a circular structure surrounded by decorated, arabesque silvery glass behind him: the main shaft, meant to funnel sunlight into the lower levels. 

“Oh no…!” 

The rig’s positioning in the air was too poor for him to fire a wire anchor. The earsplitting noise of him crashing into the reinforced glass sounded like a shout of a creature in its death throes. The white shadow of the falling Feldreß disappeared into the darkness. 

The two of them fell, intertwined, into the main shaft connecting the third and fourth levels. For whatever reason, it had the length of several floors. There were six spiral staircases running along the outer circumference, and countless metallic walkways intersected along the decorative glass, coming together in what looked like the spiral structure of DNA. 

As Undertaker fell down, facing up, Shin felt as if he were falling into a bottomless abyss. 

“Tch…!” 

He swung Undertaker’s front legs forward, kicking the Grauwolf away, and used that momentum to turn over. He then landed on one of the walkways, smashing through the glass. Of course, it wasn’t built to support the weight of a Juggernaut’s ten tons landing on it at crashing speed. The screech of a wire shooting off ripped through the sound of the glass shattering as the walkway collapsed. 

With most of its falling velocity curbed, Undertaker hopped onto an adjacent walkway. Repeating this action a few more times, Shin avoided the mezzanine floor and landed at the bottom of the shaft. 

The blue light filling the space wavered as if they were underwater. It was a wide hall, covered by Prussian-blue surface tiles. Some of the broken walkways stuck out diagonally, and the shards of the glass broken by the straight, taut wire glistened. A tower of intersecting, clicking flywheels stood tall in the middle, reminiscent of the inner mechanisms of a clock tower—a device likely meant to store electricity. 

At the base of the tower were jumbled-up human skeletons and the remains of mechanical butterflies that looked like intersected shadows. The blue glow of a quasi-nerve crystal shone from between some of the corpses; some of them probably belonged to Handlers or Processors. 

Feeling a faint discomfort on his neck, where the RAID Device was, Shin cast his gaze at the metallic shadow standing still a distance away. That was all he could manage. 

“What are you trying to do…Kaie?” 

“Kaie” didn’t move. 

He’d managed to catch sight of “Kaie” running down the wall after he’d kicked it away. One of its blades had snapped, likely driven into the wall to slow its fall. It hadn’t taken so much damage that it couldn’t move, yet it stood still, its optical sensor fixed on Undertaker. Regardless of the fact that it clearly perceived the presence of a Juggernaut, a hostile element, it remained unmoving. 

“I don’t want to die.” 

“What were you trying to show me by bringing me here?” 

“I don’t want to die.” 

“Kaie” gave no answer. Black Sheep lacked human intelligence. They didn’t have the memories or personalities they’d had in life. Shin’s ability didn’t allow him to communicate with the Legion, not even the Shepherds, who maintained the memories and personalities they’d had in life. There could be no communication with them. 

“I don’t want to die.” 

“Kaie” squatted, preparing to pounce on him like a predator… 

…when not even a moment later, it was split cleanly in two by something that came falling from straight above. 

It was the worst possible report she could have gotten. 

“Captain Nouzen is—?!” 

“Yeah. The Para-RAID is still connected, and I can hear what sounds like fighting, so he ain’t dead or incapacitated, but it sounds like he’s struggling so much, he’s not gonna come back.” 

“……” 

Lena bit hard into her flower-petal lips. The self-propelled mines’ demolishing of the facility was ongoing, and the fighting with the Legion was still raging on as well. In the middle of all that, Undertaker was isolated. And based on the number of enemies where he’d presumably fallen, the situation seemed to be just about hopeless for him. 

“We…can’t afford to stage a rescue in this situation.” 

“Pathetic, ain’t it?” 

The Spearhead squadron had its hands full stopping the Legion heading for the shaft. If she ordered forces to search for Shin, there would undoubtedly be casualties among those left to defend against the Legion. And on top of that, while it was preferable to a treadmill model, a surface weapon like the Reginleif was bad at attacking anything directly below it. 

“Then our only choice is to wait for the captain to return on his own…” 

Even as she said that, a cold thought crossed her mind. The Spearhead squadron was currently at the third level’s central block. The Claymore squadron was en route, climbing the staircase leading to the third level. The Brísingamen and Thunderbolt squadrons were in the fourth level’s central block, and each squadron had armored infantry attached to it. 

If they were to wait for Shin to return, each squadron would have to tighten its defenses in its position around the shaft. The Legion didn’t hesitate to sacrifice their comrades if need be, and they would topple the shaft even if their friendly units were inside. So the squadrons had to defend the shaft until the fighting inside it had concluded in some form. And while saying they would defend a comrade no matter what sounded nice on paper, it would mean delaying four squadrons from escaping a combat zone that was under risk of collapse. Conversely, abandoning Shin would enable all her forces to return to the surface safely. 

That fact rendered Lena speechless. 

The situation wasn’t pressing enough to force her into those kinds of decisions just yet. But what if the Legion’s numbers exceeded predictions? What if the rate of casualties in her squadrons were to go over permissible values? It was true enough that in terms of pure fighting power, Shin was of the highest value among the Processors. As a single unit, he had the highest combat potential, with seven years of experience fighting the Legion under his belt, and most of all, he had the rare, singular ability to trace the Legion’s voices from afar. 

But did he carry enough value to justify countless sacrifices? Was it even right to quantify the value of one’s life with their combat potential? This was a question Lena had grappled with countless times before as she served as a Handler commanding the Eighty-Six from within the safety of the walls and eventually came to be known as the Bloodstained Queen. 

She had been forced to make this choice time and again. But as soon as Shin was thrown into the equation, her resolve was shakier than ever before. 

If the need arises, will I be able to make the same decision again? Will I be able to calmly declare that I’m abandoning him, like I’ve abandoned countless Processors before? 

Sensing Lena’s hesitance, Raiden’s voice grew colder. 

“…Lena. Just letting you know, we ain’t retreating until we get him back.” 

That served only to solidify her resolve. 

“Of course. I will never, ever needlessly command my forces to leave a subordinate to die… But if it becomes necessary, follow my orders. Absolutely.” 

If the situation requires me to abandon Shin… If I deem it necessary, I’ll make that call. I will order Shin’s death. And I won’t have anyone else do it. Only me. 

“I am your commander… I can’t save one soldier’s life at the cost of losing countless others.” 

It was natural for Processors, who stood side by side and faced life and death on the battlefield together, to never forsake a comrade. It was because they shared that sense of trust that they could stand together on the precipice of life and death. 

But Lena was a commander. She stayed behind, where it was safe, commanding from above to guarantee the best possible outcome and never fighting directly. It was because she was able to make calls that ensured the survival of the unit—by making the heartless decisions a comrade never could—that she had the right to command subordinates. 

Never standing on the battlefield, never fighting anyone. This was the way of fighting she’d decided on for herself. And that was the way of fighting Shin acknowledged. 

She could sense Raiden’s brow furrowing. 

“Are you really doing this aga—?” 

But Shiden interrupted. 

“Don’t you worry, Raiden. Our queen never once fucked up and got someone killed for no reason.” 

There wasn’t so much as a hint of a smile, not a touch of mirth in her tone. She’d delivered that statement with the utmost sincerity. 

“Some of us did die, and there were even times when I asked myself if this crazy woman was really trying to kill us, but no one ever died in vain… If nothing else, I could tell she was always desperately trying to minimize casualties as much as possible. Wasn’t that why you and the Li’l Reaper followed the orders of some rando inside the walls two years ago? Someone you’d never even seen before?” 

Raiden fell silent for a moment. 

“Yeah… I guess.” 

“That’s what I thought. So tighten up.” 

Lena was silent as she closed her eyes. 

“Thank you very much, Second Lieutenant Iida, First Lieutenant Shuga.” 

For giving me so much trust when all I can do is command you from where it’s safe. 

“All infiltrating units. Deploy in your current positions and protect the main shaft at all costs… Defend your Reaper with your lives.” 

The moment “Kaie’s” bisected remains loudly clattered to the ground, Shin’s ability picked up a wailing voice charging toward him. 

A voice and nothing else. 

“……?!” 

There was nothing in front of him, according to the main screen’s footage. Nothing on his radar screen, either, even if it was set to passive. But a sense separate from his usual five picked up on the artificial killing intent and urged him to pull his control stick sideways. Undertaker evaded by tumbling aside, and the moment it did, the ominous sound of wind swept through where it had stood just a moment ago. A single shard of glass on the floor sprang up, as if something had stepped over it. 

The wailing voice continued, colliding with the wall directly behind Undertaker. The moment he realized it, the source of the voice turned its flank and jumped up again to the flywheel tower. The rotating of the gears was disturbed two times as it jumped up before reaching the top. 

It’s quick…! 

Shin switched his radar to active, but it detected nothing. Invisible both visually and to the radar, it moved with dizzying speed, surpassing even the highly mobile Juggernaut, jumping up and then somersaulting back down to clash with him. 

The enemy was still invisible. No—it was hardly noticeable unless one focused on finding it, but there was a slight wavering in the air, like a heat haze… Like the flapping of butterfly wings swaying in the dim light. Tracing the incomprehensible wailing voice, he focused on that single wavering point—and drove his high-frequency blade into it. The blade sliced through the heat haze, which was only slightly visible even at this short range. 

The blade was capable of cutting through a Dinosauria’s composite armor like butter, but in the next moment, its vibrations were interrupted by opposing vibrations, and a vector of the opposite direction forced both blades and the enemy fuselage to deflect off each other. The high-pitched screech of metal rose up, cutting through the blue air. 

Taking a slash from above, Undertaker was knocked back. Meanwhile, the unknown Legion was cut diagonally and soared through the air, drawing a parabola. Shin still couldn’t see it. It was there but didn’t exist on any of his screens. It wasn’t some kind of projection or some kind of camouflage unit that could be seen through with enough effort. Perceiving the trajectory of its invisible fall, Shin pulled the trigger on his 88 mm cannon. 

It was loaded with a high-explosive anti-tank warhead. He’d set the fuse from bursting on impact to a timed explosion. There was no point in using an automatic sight against an invisible enemy. Abiding by his manual aiming, the warhead soared through the air, and the timed fuse burst a second later at close range. It wasn’t a direct hit. Shin hadn’t intended to hit it, either. However… 

…if Shin’s assumption was correct—its camouflage would be stripped off as a result. 

Eight-thousand-meter-per-second shock waves spread out spherically, with sizzling flames rushing after them. And as planned, the faintly wavering heat haze was torn open and exposed. The shock waves capable of easily bending iron plates were merely a by-product of producing the metal jet, but they tore off the scenery surrounding the enemy. Lapped at by tongues of black-orange flames, fragments of silver flaked off and burned away. 

It landed, wreathed in flaming silver shards. Fragments of the scenery turned back to silver with a flap of their wings and rose into the air while burning. It was a flock of silver butterflies, small enough to rest in the palm of one’s hand. The type of Legion capable of disturbing and refracting all manner of electronic waves and light, the Eintagsfliege. 

Shin had never imagined they could be used like this. 

It made sense that the Phalanx squadron had been decimated in the way they’d been. The eye couldn’t see it, the radar failed to detect it, and since the Legion moved silently, audio sensors couldn’t detect it, either. The only thing that did pick up its presence was a vibration sensor, which detected its movements along the ground, but that wasn’t enough to rely on in battle. No one but Shin, who could pick up the sound of the Legion’s weeping, could break through its optical camouflage. 

Shin got his first glance at the enemy as it stepped through the flames to look back at him. The thought that it resembled an animal of some sort crossed Shin’s strained consciousness. It stood at just under two meters tall and had a nimble four-legged form. A pair of optical sensors flashed a blue light from the sensors on its beast-like head. There was no sign of any projectile weapons like machine guns, launchers, or turrets, with only a pair of black metallic arms that resembled a beast’s mane extending forward from the rear of its fuselage. 

In all his seven years of fighting the Legion, Shin had never seen anything resembling this unit. It was likely a new type. Judging from its shape and prior movements, it was a High-Mobility type, surpassing even the Juggernaut in agility. The weeping in his ears came off as incomprehensible robotic babble. It wasn’t a Black Sheep or a Shepherd. It was a Legion with a purely mechanical intelligence, the kind that should have long since exceeded its preset life span. 

With his gaze still locked with his opponent’s, Shin reconnected to the Resonance. 

“—Colonel.” 

“…Shin! Are you all right? What’s the situation?!” 

“I’m engaging the enemy… I’ve encountered the Legion that wiped out the Phalanx squadron.” 

He could sense Lena’s breath catch in her throat. Not giving her time to say anything, he spoke rapidly: 

“The truth behind its attack was optical camouflage by way of the Eintagsfliege. It deceives both the optical sensors and the radar. It hides a new type of Legion that uses weapons similar to high-frequency blades to attack. Judging from its shape and movements, it’s capable of maneuvering faster than a Juggernaut… I’ll relay any further information as I acquire it.” 

There was no telling when the fighting would resume, so he wanted to relay as much information as he could. After all… 

“I’ll relay as much combat information as I can… But if I don’t return…” 

If he were to lose—to die here and not make it back… 

Perhaps the fall had damaged his RAID Device, because the Resonance was thick with noise for some reason. 

“But if I don’t return…” 

Shin’s breathing was still rough and labored, as if he was constantly being exposed to pain. It was perhaps natural for him to consider the chance he wouldn’t return, but even knowing so, Lena replied: 

“Roger that, Shin. But I won’t let you finish that sentence.” 

Lena’s voice was unwavering. 

“You will relay the data you collect on this new Legion unit to me in person. I will accept nothing else… This is an order, Undertaker. Follow it, no matter what.” 

Shin’s eyes widened for a moment, before he cracked a light smile, despite the situation. 

“—Roger that, Handler One.” 

Inside the command car on the surface, with no enemies in the vicinity, Lena harshly looked down at the fighting taking place underground through the main screen as the two mechanical weapons locked in battle, each aiming to kill the other. 

“Vanadis HQ to all units.” 

The silver-bell-like voice gave its order at the same moment the two units kicked off their mortal combat. 

Even as he promised to return at all costs, Shin realized just how dire his situation truly was. The automatic sights of his arm control system couldn’t keep up with it. His Juggernaut’s propulsion system was screeching, struggling to bear the absurd maneuvers the Legion was forcing it to commit. Most of all, exposing himself to the constant sudden accelerations and braking and forcing his own nervous system into a constant state of heightened concentration was bearing down on Shin’s body. 

The High-Mobility type zipped from one side of the shaft to the other freely. Overwhelmed by its agility, the reticle danced drunkenly across his main screen, and he evaded the Legion’s blades and executed attacks not with conscious thought, but with something closer to reflex. These were automatic movements, predictions born of his tempered warrior instincts, like programs carved into his body. 

And even still, the High-Mobility type was quicker. The long metal line at its back was raised. It extended upon being swung horizontally, and the countless gears lining it screeched in high-pitched noise as they began rotating rapidly. 

The high-frequency chain blade skimmed against him, sending his front left leg’s pile driver flying into the air, cut in half. Shin purged the pile driver without pause, taking the chance to fire a kinetic-energy penetrator at the enemy. The High-Mobility type effortlessly jumped away. Hopping up into the air, onto the rubble of the walkway, and stepping on a tightened wire, it ascended with a grace inimitable by a Juggernaut. Its agility and lightness were truly unparalleled. 

A movement speed that bested a Juggernaut, which was built for high-mobility combat, not to mention Shin, who specialized in a form of melee combat that mixed offense and defense… 

This Legion unit was the first and only killing machine that completely lacked human influence. 

Humans were weak when it came to impacts and sudden accelerations, and their reaction speeds had limits. Having to house a fragile human body in order to move forced absolute limitations on a mobile weapon’s maneuverability. Limitations an unmanned weapon lacked. For as long as its technology allowed, its speed and mobility could skyrocket. 

It seemed that so far, the Legion’s central processors could handle fighting only up to a certain speed, but it appeared those shackles had been broken. By researching the human brain, they had seemingly achieved an advanced artificial intelligence that likely dwarfed that of humankind. 

As Shin faced it, all things that weren’t necessary for fighting gradually faded from his mind. His red eyes saw nothing but his enemy. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the High-Mobility type’s wailing anymore. Even the screams of his own strained body were pushed to the back of his mind. As was the duty cast upon him, to bring back the information, to survive and live on. 

They were disappearing one after another. The needless sense of duty; his wishes, desires, and thoughts; and all that contributed nothing to his battle were being cut off. And the thought that this encounter might be terrifying was the first to go. 

He switched his sights to manual, and percussion followed a moment later. The high-explosive anti-tank warhead he fired exploded. The High-Mobility type hopped horizontally, evading the fragments scattered into the air. It bent its body as it landed forward before jumping at Undertaker. 

Watching it as it did, Shin pulled the trigger a second time. 

A high-explosive anti-tank warhead that had its minimal triggering distance eliminated burst in the air between both units. It was a dangerous distance that put Undertaker at risk of being hit by the shock waves and debris, but it was for this reason the High-Mobility type would fail to predict that Shin would do this. Bursting at closer range than ever before, the fragments rushed at the High-Mobility type. But it simply responded by twisting its body, thus reducing the surface exposed to the shards and having them stab only into its front armor. 

…It can even dodge that? Shin whispered to himself. 

His crimson eyes, reflecting the main screen, gradually glazed over with the same artifice as the optical sensor they were looking into. 

Lena was connected to the duel by audio only, so she could only partially pick up on what was happening. Shin was likely fully concentrated on the enemy before him, because he wasn’t acknowledging her presence anymore. 

It was just like the time with Rei, when he fought his deceased brother, who had been assimilated by the Legion. Lena’s voice hadn’t reached him at the time… No one’s voice had. And a part of her thought that was to be expected. The Legion were stronger than humans, and to fight them, one would need to loosen their grip on their humanity. 

But was that truly permissible? Unlike the Legion, which were tireless murderers, people were exhausted by war. It hurt them, exhausted them, scarred them. Their minds and bodies would scream in protest, rejecting combat. Humans weren’t made for war. Humankind was fundamentally unsuited for battle. 

And despite this, Shin—and the Eighty-Six as a whole—sometimes forgot that pain and fear should rightfully be present, rendering them beings who knew only war. 

And that left Lena feeling terribly lonely and afraid. It made her fear that they were becoming the same as the mechanical ghosts they fought. As if they were losing their humanity and would one day be unable to return to the way they’d been before. 

It…frightened her. 

“…I’m begging you, please come back.” 

That prayer escaped her lips before she even knew it. But it didn’t reach him. The way he was now, Shin couldn’t perceive that the girl was even there. Yet still. 

“Please…come back to me. Whatever it takes.” 

An unavoidable blow swung down on him, and his right high-frequency blade snapped at the base, unable to withstand the burden. 

“Tch…!” 

Now both of his blades were lost, as well as the armor of his front legs, with their wire anchors rendered unresponsive. With the other blade bearing down on him, Shin had no means of blocking it. Even so, he ignored the countless warnings blaring up from his propulsion system and forced Undertaker to jump. Undertaker’s right front leg was exposed to the slash, and Shin’s efforts to evade ended in vain as the leg was cut away, a shower of sparks emanating from it like a splash of blood. 

Half of his segmented leg took to the air, and Undertaker lost balance, falling to the ground pathetically. With his field of vision turning red and slanted from the blood, Shin watched as the High-Mobility type’s metallic shadow advanced to pursue him. 

It was then that he heard someone’s voice, like the chiming of a silver bell in his ears. 

“I’m begging you, please come back. 

“Please…come back to me.” 

Lena. 

“…?!” 

It took him a moment to realize it, but when he did, his breath caught in his throat. 

Had he just…? Lena… And the order she’d entrusted him with… 

Had he just completely forgotten about her…? 

Despite the shock he had just experienced, his body nearly automatically moved his 88 mm turret in the direction of the approaching High-Mobility type. At the exact moment Shin squeezed the trigger, the High-Mobility type canceled its pursuit and leaped out of the line of fire, taking to the air to avoid the blast. 

As it did, Shin dragged Undertaker’s mutilated leg, retreating. As the opponent couldn’t attack him from midair, Shin took cover in the rubble beneath the mezzanine floor. Like a powerless insect, he hid in the space between the mezzanine floor and the spiral staircase that intersected with it. And while pushing aside his doubts and apprehensions, he directed his attention once again to the enemy. Now wasn’t the time for him to fall into old habits. 

He’d been told to return at all costs, after all. 

But the situation was far too unfavorable right now. He’d lost all his armaments aside from his main one. His mobility was shot. Undertaker was damaged all over, and his turret had only three rounds of ammunition left. 

…If I’m gonna have any shot of making it out of this, I’ll have to roll the dice. 

Lena’s battle was ongoing. 

“Colonel! The results of the map inspection are in! Confirming them right now!” 

She almost told him to leave it for later, but she stopped herself. The Phalanx squadron had likely been ambushed and lost because of a discrepancy in the map. They couldn’t afford to get caught in the same pitfall again. 

“Send it over to my third sub-window— What?!” 

A large discrepancy that one could immediately detect was highlighted on the map in red. Of all places, the area directly beneath the main shaft connecting the third and fourth levels—the very place where Shin was engaging the High-Mobility type—had an open space that wasn’t reflected on the map. 

The seven shafts going through Charité’s central station’s underground space were built to funnel sunlight to the bottom level. With the shafts intersecting to form a gentle spiral, the tops, bottoms, and slanted sections of their interiors were set with mirror panels. The sunlight would refract between the mirrors, set opposite to the ones in adjacent shafts, and by repeating that, the light would be funneled downward through each shaft. 

This was the space meant for installing the mirror panels. It naturally wasn’t one large panel, but multiple ones, enough to fill the main shaft and its diameter of twenty meters, as well as its floor space. This space was meant to install all of those—and diagonally at that. It was likely very large in both diameter and of course height. Even a Dinosauria could pass through it, albeit with some difficulties. And of course, since it was built to allow maintenance staff to pass through, so could the self-propelled mines. 

“…!” 

Should she send forces there? No. It was as she’d told Raiden already. None of the units could afford to split their forces any further. And the area leading into the panel space was still within the Legion’s grasp. Even if they were to rush them, it would take time to gain control over it… 

Only then did her erratic thinking suddenly calm down. 

But if that was the case, why were the Legion keeping the shaft intact? All her forces were currently deployed around the shaft, and if the Legion were to topple it now, they wouldn’t just get Shin, who was still fighting inside, caught up in the collapse; all forces stationed around it might end up getting buried beneath the sediment. 

So why weren’t they doing it? Why was the fighting even going on this long? The Admiral and the Weisel on the fourth and fifth levels were already buried beneath earth and sand, and the only Legion still charging Lena’s forces were the expandable self-propelled mines and the old lightweight classes, with the heavies that had completed their repairs and the mass-produced Shepherds having mostly fled the facility. 

The Legion were never compelled to take revenge, no matter how many of their consorts were destroyed. Once their losses passed a certain threshold, they ceased combat and retreated. The rear guard had completed its task of keeping confidential information hidden, and their rate of casualties was only escalating, and yet more and more Legion kept charging the shaft. 

Why…?! 

And soon enough, Lena arrived at an answer. 

It’s Shin. 

The Legion went on Headhunts in order to keep operating past their central processors’ designated expiration dates and to enhance their capabilities as weapons. They assertively sought the heads of the recently dead and the still living. And now that they had stocked up on more than enough brains to reinforce their rank-and-file troops, if they were to seek anything further, it would be the head of an elite capable of single-handedly changing the tide of battle. 

She didn’t know whether the Legion were aware of his ability to hear their voices, but his phenomenal combat skills would have been enough to make them seek him out. And while this may have been coincidence, the new type of Legion they’d produced was a High-Mobility type. Shin, who specialized in melee combat just as it did, would be the perfect component to complete it. 

If her conjecture was correct… 

“Second Lieutenant Oriya, Second Lieutenant Iida. Temporarily abandon point 47 in the seventh route and point 23 on the fourth level.” 

“Huh?!” 

“Abandon— But weren’t we defending this place so they wouldn’t self-destruct and bring the whole place down on us, Your Majesty?!” 

“No. The self-propelled mines are unlikely to self-destruct in those positions, so hurry.” 

If her speculation was wrong, those spots alone wouldn’t cause a cave-in. A few seconds passed after their reluctant responses, and then new, more surprised reports came in. The self-propelled mines in those positions did not self-destruct as a group. They weren’t even prioritizing those positions, instead going after the Juggernauts. 

“The objective of the remaining Legion forces isn’t to blow up the main shaft but to get inside and destroy all enemy forces. In that case, we should use this against them. Tighten your defenses around the entrances to the main shaft, and all remaining forces are to mount a counteroffensive.” 

Sneaking a look to the side, she caught sight of Frederica nodding lightly at her. Now that Shin was focused on fighting the High-Mobility type, they had to depend on her ability to trace the enemy, as limited as it may be. 

The Legion hunted heads, but only when the situation permitted it. The moment the situation became unfavorable for them, they abided by the unflinching instincts hardwired into them—and shifted to the offensive to destroy the enemy at all costs. So before that happened… 

“We have to change our approach before they can react—wipe out all remaining Legion forces!” 

The moment it descended to the main shaft’s floor in pursuit of the enemy hiding in the shadow of the staircase, a flash of gunfire was picked up by the High-Mobility type’s optical sensor. The enemy waited for the moment it would land and fired a truly perfect shot. Three shots of high-explosive anti-tank warheads aimed at three different points, each fired to decisively destroy their target, and blew up consecutively with a gap of split seconds. They became three lines of fire and metal jet coursing through the darkness, moving at an ultra-high speed even the High-Mobility type couldn’t keep up with. 

However… 

This was a pattern that had been repeated several times already in this battle. Enough times for the High-Mobility type—a new type of Legion with advanced learning capabilities—to predict it. The High-Mobility type quickly stepped to one side as it landed, evading the enemy’s fire that followed a moment later with just that small movement. The rapid trail of metal jet pathetically shot right past the High-Mobility type, with the warheads’ fragments only faintly tearing through the High-Mobility type’s armor. 

The resulting fire and black smoke ironically served only to obfuscate its form from the enemy. That was why it had dodged with such minimal movement. Had it jumped too far away, the enemy would have immediately seen that it was unharmed, but because it had evaded so the flames would hide it, the enemy would have no means of knowing it wasn’t damaged. 

The smoke expanded rapidly to fill the underground battlefield. Caught in the wind generated by what air-conditioning facilities still remained active in the structure, it scattered in small swirls. Before it could clear, the High-Mobility type charged through the gentle curtain of black smoke, jumping forward. 

It wasn’t a speed human reaction time could hope to match. 

The target’s red optical sensor turned toward the High-Mobility type. But that was all it could do. A sharp black blade was driven into pearlescent, bone-like armor. 

Having been ordered to counterattack, the Juggernauts were like hunting dogs freed from their chains, accurately and ruthlessly tearing into the swarming Legion. 

“—Second Lieutenant Crow, have the Thunderbolt squadron’s second and third platoons move forward and eliminate all enemies in the position.” 

“Roger that, Colonel Milizé.” 

“This is Raiden. The position’s ours! Where to next, Lena?” 

“We’ve got ten more seconds or so. We can see the next enemy unit, so we don’t need directions.” 

“Roger. First Lieutenant Shuga, detour to point 12 and strike the next enemy unit from behind.” 

At that moment, a Sensory Resonance target was cut off. It wasn’t from any of the squadrons under her command. There was only one person missing. 

“Shin…?” 

The High-Mobility type destroyed the bottom of the unit’s fuselage. Judging by its sensors, it was the source of the machine’s heat—its power pack. Stopping the vibration of the chain blade, it pulled it out as the machine crumpled heavily to the ground. 

The High-Mobility type approached the Reginleif, which lay still, its sensor’s focus unmoving, with cautious steps. No moving bodies. No electric reactions. The temperature of its power source was dropping. A temperature that ensured it wouldn’t be able to start up immediately had been achieved, but it continued to plummet. 

<Confirming disarmament of call sign: Báleygr.> 

The High-Mobility type had no sense of personality, so it expressed no elation at having defeated its opponent. All it did was plainly report its success at downing a high-value hostile enemy to the wide area network. 

<Acknowledged. Is seizure of Báleygr possible?> 

<Presumed possible.> 

It had avoided the enemy’s cockpit block and instead damaged its propulsion system. The human body inside may have been brittle, but its vitals should still be functioning. The High-Mobility type was capable of taking such peculiarities into consideration. 

<Commencing retrieval.> 

It turned its optical sensor to a protuberance that was likely the opening lever for the cockpit and lowered the tip of its chain blade to pull it… But it wouldn’t open. The lock mechanism was functioning. Activating the chain blade’s vibrations, it cut through the lock, forcing the canopy to swing open. 

Looking down, he saw Undertaker’s canopy swing open after it was cut through. 

Gotcha. 

Lying hidden beneath the rubble, Shin aligned the sights of his assault rifle with the rear armor of the High-Mobility type as it peered into the cockpit. With the exception of the Ameise, with their specialized sensory capabilities, the Legion’s sensors were weak. Gambling on that fact, Shin had escaped the cockpit under the cover of the high-explosive projectile’s blast and smoke, taking cover inside the mezzanine floor’s rubble. The High-Mobility type didn’t have any part that looked like a composite sensor unit. It was a gamble in Shin’s favor. 

Feldreß pilots were provided with a 7.62 mm rifle for self-defense in case their units were lost. It didn’t have a laser sight, only two primitive sights: one over the muzzle and another over the body of the weapon. And it was precisely for this reason that the Legion’s fire-control system, which would usually detect and alert in the presence of a laser sight, couldn’t detect this assault rifle. The selector was set to full-auto, and the first round was already in its chamber. 

Shin pulled the trigger. 

The assault rifle unleashed a barrage of 7.62 mm armor-piercing rounds at a speed of seven hundred shots per minute at the High-Mobility type. Rifle rounds of this caliber had enough firepower to blow off a person’s limbs but weren’t as effective against an armored unit. Even the relatively lightly armored Ameise would deflect the rounds if their front armor was hit. 

However, armor wasn’t equally thick across all sides. An armored weapon made on the assumption it would face the enemy head-on was armored relatively lightly except for the front. Like, for example, on its underside. Or…the top section of its rear. 

Especially when it was a weapon specialized for high-mobility combat, light enough to support its weight on a single wire and seeming to excessively avoid the self-forging fragments, it likely wasn’t heavily armored. And most of all, the self-forging fragments had cut into its rear earlier, creating a nick in its armor. 

Rifle rounds, which traveled at twice the speed of sound, rained down on the High-Mobility type’s back, stabbing into the crack in its armor as planned. The broken armor flicked off like the scales of some lizard’s hide, and further tungsten-alloy rounds dug into the now-larger hole in its armor, penetrating its frame and rebounding into its propulsion and control systems. 

Shin thought he could hear a voiceless scream rattle the air. 

His magazine of thirty rounds was emptied within three seconds. Just as the final bullet entered the chamber, he ejected the magazine and loaded a fresh one, continuing his barrage. Tactical reloading. A technique for consecutive shooting that didn’t afford the enemy the time it would take you to load the next bullet. 

The severe recoil of a full-size rifle firing at full-auto dug into his shoulder. He suppressed the jerking barrel with all his might as he continued shooting. And after six seconds that seemed to go on forever… 

The High-Mobility type staggered to face him, its ruined armor and limbs rattling. 

<Gunfire detected.> 

<Amendment to previously transmitted data. Call sign: Báleygr survival confirmed.> 

Wehrwolf stomped out the final Ameise with his pile driver, and Cyclops’s buckshot cannon blew away a flock of self-propelled mines. 

“Clear!” 

All enemies in the vicinity of the shaft had been eliminated. All that was left was to head into the main shaft—and help with the final battle taking place. 

But a faint sound had echoed—between the shock waves of that stomping and the blasts of the buckshot cannon—without anyone to notice it. 

The High-Mobility type turned to face him, bending its body like a panther preparing to pounce on its prey. Ejecting his depleted magazine, Shin inserted his second spare magazine into the magazine inlet. It was an extra maneuver that took less than a second to perform, but within that long moment, Shin realized something. 

The enemy was faster. The best he could hope for was to shoot it down as it killed him. And even as he knew this, his finger still moved to squeeze the trigger, when… 

…a single metallic sound, so quiet it would normally be inaudible, reached his ears. The multi-rocket launcher hidden within “Kaie’s” remains, which lay scattered at the corner of the hall, suddenly flashed and burst. The repeated rumblings of the battle taking place in the shaft had likely made its firing pin fall off, and the continued fighting had set off and activated its fuse, with the man and the machine doing battle being none the wiser. 

The rocket shells burst and exploded within the ruined remains of the barrel. Sizzling fragments prompted the surrounding shells and the ruined fuselage itself to explode in response. A flash of light filled the depths of the shaft, preluding the severe shock waves that would follow. The intense light, which even outmatched that of a HEAT missile, was reflected and dispersed off the mirror surfaces set up across the shaft. 

A flash of pale blinding light filled the dark bottom of the shaft. For those who used optical information as their basis for perceiving the outside world, overwhelming light was no different from total darkness. The volume of light painting over its optical sensor made the High-Mobility type lose sight of Shin. 

Shin, on the other hand, abided by his animal instincts and reflexively closed his eyes. He couldn’t see the High-Mobility type, either, but there was a major difference between the two of them. The High-Mobility type had fought through only this one day. Shin, however, had fought for seven years. 

Yes. 

A crucial difference in the time they’d spent on the battlefield, in the combat experience they’d accumulated. 

The High-Mobility type froze, unable to properly judge what it should do in this unpredictable situation. But Shin pulled the trigger. With his eyes closed. Even with no vision, his ability to hear the ghosts’ voices accurately conveyed the enemy’s position. And through seven years of experience with handling an assault rifle, his sights didn’t waver at this distance, even though he couldn’t see. 

For a moment, he thought he could see a black-haired Orienta girl with a ponytail smile at him. 

The assault rifle fired at full-auto, its recoil and roar reverberating through the shaft’s walls. From the darkness behind his eyelids, Shin heard the sound of something crouching down—too light for the Legion yet too heavy for any living thing. 

<Accumulated damage exceeding permittable parameters.> 

<Abandoning exterior unit. Commencing form shift: forced override. Executing special article Omega.> 

He’d closed his eyes reflexively, but his retinas still hadn’t recovered from the flash. His field of vision was still somewhat dazzled. Squinting his eyes, which still ached from the sharp pain, Shin pulled his pistol from its holster. The High-Mobility type lay crumpled, its interior smoldering with the color of flames. But the indecipherable sound of its mechanical wailing hadn’t died out. It couldn’t move, but it wasn’t completely broken yet. 

The Legion were too menacing to look down upon, even when they were wounded. With his rifle, which was overheated from the rapid fire—and also out of ammo—in one hand, Shin stopped when he was only a few steps away, just out of range of its blades. The accurate sights of his pistol were aimed squarely at the High-Mobility type. 

It was then that rays of silver light began welling up from the bullet holes in its back. That light was Liquid Micromachines. The very life and nervous system of the Legion bubbled forth in liquid form, bursting out of its wound like blood. They then spouted out of the machine violently, like a geyser. 

As Shin stepped away cautiously, a figure floated out of the wreckage and stretched out into the air, seeming to defy the laws of gravity. Like a bud maturing in the blink of an eye or a butterfly hatching from a cocoon, the figure raised its head, bending it backward as if facing the heavens. 

Yes, its head. 

Its long hair trailed over the darkness like a clear stream. A prominent forehead, gentle eyes, a slender nose, thin lips, and a pointed jaw. The contour of its exposed throat down to its chest made the figure appear distinctly feminine. And yet every part of its body had a metallic sheen to it as it suddenly sprouted from the surge of Liquid Micromachines. 

Its eyelids fluttered open. With its silver eyes staring into space, it swerved its slender form. The way its strange gaze didn’t seem to focus on anything made Shin shudder in incomprehensible fright. The Legion had no eyeballs, so they likely had no perception of focusing their gaze. 

It looked human, but it wasn’t. 

And as if to drive home the message that this being wasn’t some clumsy mechanical monster, but something far more ominous and incomprehensible, its lips moved. 

C O M E   F I N D   M E 

Come find me. 

It had nothing in the way of vocal cords, so it had no voice with which to speak, but just the movements of its lips silently formed each word. Its eyes were unfocused and inhuman, with both the irises and the whites colored silver. And yet they were human shaped. 

The standoff came across as extremely long to Shin, but it took only several seconds. The feminine face then suddenly melted away, and the entirety of the Liquid Micromachines scattered away soundlessly, turning into specks of light that blew away like balsam-flower seeds dispersing in the wind. The particles paused in midflight for a moment and changed shape again, taking the form of a flock of silver butterflies, small enough to sit in the palm of one’s hand. 

They flapped their thin, brittle, paperlike wings, which were too long to belong to actual butterflies. The silver wings rode the wind and soared, whirling in an upward helix pattern, like a galaxy’s spiral arm, across the main shaft’s aperture before flying off and disappearing. 

“What…?” 

It got away. 

He realized that when his ability once again picked up the wailing of the High-Mobility type from afar, mixing in with the retreating Legion. 

It abandoned its ruined unit and disassembled its central processor to escape…? 

The thought of it made it all oddly click into place. If one were to take things far enough, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say the Legion’s actual form was the Liquid Micromachines making up its central processors. Being liquid, they could change their shapes into anything—like human neural networks, which were radically different from their original central processors. His brother, who had been turned into a Dinosauria, had transformed the Liquid Micromachines into countless extending human hands. 

A system—a program—is fundamentally an aggregation of countless modules, so separating and reassembling them shouldn’t have been impossible. However, taking out a human brain, picking it apart, putting it back together, and returning it to where it had been wasn’t an idea a human mind would ever conceive. 

Not a human mind, hmm…? 

An artificial intelligence meant for combat likely didn’t see it as madness. Shin thought he could finally understand Lena’s anxieties a bit. The Legion constantly learned and improved themselves in order to increase their combat abilities and efficiency. The Shepherds had human intelligence, but at times they exhibited illogical behavior because of the memories they’d had of being human, like Rei and Kiriya had. 

But the mass-produced Shepherds, which had their memories removed, lacked that tendency. And the High-Mobility type, which had an intelligence based on a human brain—but not any specific one—lacked any memories to begin with. If the end result of cutting away those memories…was that entirely inhuman, efficient, specialized-for-combat High-Mobility type… And if Shin were to keep on forgetting the wishes he’d been entrusted with and become the same kind of war machine as the Legion… 

As Frederica had once said, three things make a man: the homeland he was born into, the blood running through his veins, and the bonds he forms. And Shin had never once thought to internalize what she’d said. He had never wished to reclaim the things he’d lost to the fires of war. But perhaps the ones that found their way back to him…the ones that reached out to him… Maybe caring for those connections would be the right thing to do. 

That was what Shin thought. 

It was when he thought to tell Lena that the battle was over that he realized his RAID Device had fallen off and slipped away at some point. Returning to Undertaker, he rifled through the cockpit, searching inside until he found it and reconnected to the Resonance. 

“—Shin! Are you all right?!” 

“Somehow.” 

“Thank God…!” 

Lena let out a sigh filled with relief. Frederica was saying something in the background, but her high-pitched voice grated a bit on his ears at that moment. Shin spoke, contorting his face from the constant cacophony reaching his ears. 

“Lena, I have a favor to ask.” 

“What is it?” 

Apparently, she could tell how bad he was feeling from his tone. Hearing her silver-bell-like voice fill with tension made Shin feel all the more pathetic. 

“Could you send someone over to pick me up…? I’m not injured, but I can’t move.” 

The Legion had probably retreated already, judging by how the wails of the Shepherds were moving farther away. Which should have made Shin feel a bit better, but having all the tension drain from his body only made him feel even worse. White noise assaulted his senses, and the stronger the sensation became, the harder it was to stay on his feet. 

As he leaned back against Undertaker’s armor, he could sense Lena smile in relief. 

“Yes. If that’s all, I’ll have someone right over—” 

Before she could even finish, he heard a familiar prattling and the sound of loud footsteps approaching him. It came from two different points. From a rectangle that served as an exit to the same floor and from an aperture higher up in the shaft appeared two Juggernauts, covered with dust. Both their canopies swung open at roughly the same time, and two familiar faces peeked out of them. 

“Yo. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this fucked up,” Raiden said, standing at the top of the shaft. His unit was also in pretty bad condition, with both of its machine guns lost. 

“I heard you needed someone to give you a ride, Li’l Reaper? Who do you want a piggyback ride from—the werewolf or the cyclops princess?” 

Shiden gave a toothy smirk, flashing her canines, as she rested her chin against the edge of her armor. 

Somewhere in the foggy recesses of Shin’s mind, he thought both options sounded pretty lousy.