86 - Volume 5 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 

MELANCHOLY OF MONSTERS 

Rito Oriya had joined the Spearhead squadron only last spring—two years after he had become a Processor. The first ward’s first defensive line was the final disposal site where Processors who had survived too long were sent. They were sent there to die in battle. Usually, only Processors in their fourth or fifth years of service were dispatched there, so Rito’s appointment after a mere two years of service had come relatively early… Or rather, it had been early until then. 

The Republic had believed the war with the Legion would end after ten years. The Legion’s life spans should have ended at that point in time. Rito and the other Eighty-Six had known that wouldn’t be the case, but the white pigs had known nothing of the battlefield and wanted to quickly get rid of the livestock they’d kept for the war. 

He would never forget the day the large-scale offensive had started. 

Run, ya brats! I don’t care if ya hide inside the walls or wherever else—just get out of here and survive! 

Spurred on by the angry bellowing of the base’s senior chief of maintenance, Rito and the other twenty-two surviving Processors had boarded their faithful partners—the Juggernauts—and headed south. That was just as the warning regarding the Gran Mur’s fall blared out. Just after a Handler, a slightly older girl, proclaimed the end of the Republic and the Eighty-Six. 

They didn’t want to die under the Republic. If they had to die, they’d rather it happened on the battlefield of the Eighty-Sixth Sector, where their countless comrades had fallen. It was this thought that led them not into the arms of the Republic but to a squadron that called for them from a fortification within the Eighty-Sixth Sector. The chief of maintenance, Lev Aldrecht, said the Handler girl was a trustworthy person and following her would increase their chances of survival, but Rito found it difficult to trust a white pig he had never met before. 

Aldrecht and his crew didn’t come with them. 

We’re the pieces of shit that had to stand by and watch you kids march to your deaths. 

For some reason, Aldrecht and the other maintenance crew all smirked when they said that. Judging by the looks on their faces, they seemed oddly relieved. The Eighty-Sixth Sector’s maintenance crew consisted of Eighty-Six who were formerly Republic soldiers and the surviving adults who’d enlisted early on in the war. Servicing the Juggernauts required considerable skill and technical know-how, and since they had that knowledge, they were spared from being eliminated after they’d been injured in combat, and they were allowed to keep working. They were Eighty-Six whose lives happened to have slightly more value than most. 

That was why they’d had to watch as these child soldiers, whose lives had little to no value in comparison, had marched to their deaths over the last decade… Aldrecht and his crew likely cursing their powerlessness and uselessness from the bottom of their hearts all the while. 

So sticking around here and letting the heaps of scrap metal butcher us is fitting punishment, y’see …? We got nowhere else to go but here. 

They would finally be set free from that guilt. They would finally atone for the sins of leaving others to die… So told the smiles on their faces as they shouldered old assault rifles, all-purpose machine guns, and rocket launchers they’d hidden God knows where. 

As the Eighty-Six fled, they heard the sound of those weapons firing from the direction of the base. Those weapons were weak, even compared to the Juggernaut, and didn’t serve as a means of countering the Legion. The all-too-familiar sound of a Löwe’s 120 mm turret thundered across the landscape, and the Ameise’s antipersonnel machine-gun fire reached their ears. And then the base fell into eternal silence. 

When they reached the defensive base near the southern front, the southern front’s first ward’s first defensive unit, Razor Edge, served as the main force. It was the first time Rito ever saw so many forces in one place, but their numbers rapidly decreased in the blink of an eye. 

The conflict was already well underway by the time aid arrived. A force of units consisting of polypedal weapons and armored infantry crossed the Legion’s territories from their neighboring country, Giad. They were pearlescent Feldreß he’d never seen before, yet somehow, they seemed oddly familiar. Looking back, he realized one of those Reginleifs may very well have been Shin’s. 

“…Cap’n Nouzen.” 

The boy who’d served as captain of the first squadron Rito had been assigned to. A boy who was three years his elder but four years his senior in terms of battle experience. After six months in that squadron, Shin had ended his term, and it had been decided he’d be sent to the Spearhead squadron… And Rito had then assumed he’d probably died, either in combat or in the Special Reconnaissance mission. 

Rito told Shin that Aldrecht had died, but he didn’t tell him of his final moments nor his last words. He thought…Shin was saddened by it. Shin, who took on the role of the Reaper, who carried on the names and memories of those who fought by his side, perhaps wanted to take that obstinate old chief of maintenance with him in some form. 

But he couldn’t understand. 

The highest rate of casualties among Processors occurred either at their final disposal site or when they were novices at the start of their service—when they knew nothing of the battlefield, any potential they may have was still untapped, and they could die at the slightest stroke of bad luck. Rito spent his first six months, the period when most novices died, in a squadron of Name Bearers like Shin and Raiden. It was a squadron of veterans, so it had few casualties in comparison to others in the Eighty-Sixth Sector… 

He’d grown used to battle without having to see the comrades at his side blown to bits, and he’d had a chance to learn how to fight and survive. And by the time Rito and his comrades left, he’d gained the skill needed to defend his comrades in battle, if only somewhat. 

And so Rito wasn’t used to it yet. To the terror… Shin, who had bathed in it so much he’d gained the title of Reaper, would probably never understand. 

Looking out the train window, all Rito could see was pitch-blackness. Sitting on this train, riding to their next battlefield, Rito gazed at his own reflection in the dark window and whispered to himself in a somber tone so as not to awaken his friends sleeping next to him. In a voice that wouldn’t reach the Reaper, whose ears could pick up even the voices of ghosts. 

“Cap’n. To tell the truth, I’m still…still afraid to die. And I’m still afraid of seeing others die, too.” 

A deafening howl, like a beast that had had its throat crushed, echoed loudly from the other side of the window. It was the sound of the high-speed train running along the track that reverberated through the tight pitch-black tunnel. It echoed, dredging up a particularly foul mood in Shin and making him recall things he would have preferred remain buried. As he was forced to play audience to the incessant continuo alternating between a high pitch and a low one, Shin traced back memories that teetered on the edge of oblivion. 

They were on the western intercountry high-speed railway, namely on the Eaglefrost route, currently passing through the Dragon Corpse tunnel. A line that once connected the former Empire of Giad and the United Kingdom had been partially reinstated and recently opened for military use. The Dragon Corpse tunnel had been built along this line, making it the longest railway tunnel in the world. 

The Legion made use of everything they could find in the land they stole from humankind to benefit their operations, but the same held true for humankind. The Legion had maintained the old high-speed railway lines to allow for the Morpho’s movement, and now that the Highway Corridor had been retaken and was back in human hands, they’d begun restoring it for military use. 

The officers’ passenger car consisted of rows of box seats opposite each other on both sides. Those sitting in them were mostly dressed in the steel-blue colors of the Federacy’s military, but some Eighty-Six soldiers were there, too, adding other hues into the mix. 

Shin’s eyes narrowed, and a small sigh escaped his lips as he turned his gaze to the dark window. Eleven years ago, during the convoy to the internment camps, he’d heard the same sound from behind the walls of the freight car. They’d been stuffed into a freight train made for delivering livestock, and it had been so cramped that there had been no room to move. 

It was entirely different from back then, though, when the body heat of so many people in close quarters, combined with the lack of ventilation, had made it hard to breathe. Remembering it filled his heart with an odd sense of discomfort. He’d suddenly been subjected to jeers and spite and shipped off to a strange place. And yet, he couldn’t remember the expressions his parents or his brother—his stalwart shield—had often worn. At the time, Shin had been small for his age, and the constant confusion and terror of that period now bubbled to the forefront of his mind. 

It’s not that you can’t remember your childhood. You don’t want to remember it. 

A voice like a silver bell surfaced in his memory, making him narrow his eyes inadvertently. 

Because that way you can keep thinking that the things you lost, that were taken from you, never existed to begin with. 

That way you can keep believing people are despicable. 

…That’s not it. It’s not that I don’t want to remember or anything. Still, the fact that I can’t remember doesn’t inconvenience me in any way. 

“—Shin.” 

Turning in the direction of the voice, his gaze fell on the opposite seat, where Raiden was sitting. 

“We’re almost to Rogvolod City. They said it’s a lot colder there than in the Federacy, so remember to put your coat on before you get off.” 

“Right.” 

The train could run only until the terminal just outside the tunnel. After that, the railway’s gauge had to be switched. The train ferried several thousand troops and Juggernauts that weighed roughly ten tons each. Reshipping would take a considerable amount of time. 

The railroad allowed for large-scale, high-speed transportation, enabling it to move far more troops and equipment than the standard quota. So even if the Federacy had been a friendly nation in ages past, and even if it was an ally of the United Kingdom in the war against the Legion, allowing a large number of weapons and troops to directly enter the capital—the veritable jugular of the country—wasn’t something the northern country looked upon with fondness. 

“But man, the United Kingdom, huh…? It’s like, heh, we really did go farther than we ever expected to go, didn’t we?” 

“…For sure.” 

Two years ago, none of them could have ever imagined leaving the Eighty-Sixth Sector. The train they were on now crossed the Federacy’s northern border and was following the tunnel cutting through the Dragon Corpse mountain range, heading to a neighboring country they’d never known. 

The United Kingdom of Roa Gracia. A land of weaponry, oil production, and gold mining. The Empire of Giad’s sole ally and, at the same time, its constant hypothetical enemy. With the Empire’s fall, it was now the sole remaining despotic monarchy on the continent. 

And the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package’s next battlefield. 

“—Our upcoming operation’s primary objective is the capture of the commander unit located in the United Kingdom’s southern front, identifier: the Merciless Queen.” 

While they were officers just like the Processors, the field officers Lena, Grethe, and Annette were allotted a separate car. It was done to maintain the superior officers’ authority, as well as to ensure secrecy. Information in the military was disclosed on a need-to-know basis, and there was a significant gap between the amounts of information a commanding officer and a Processor were privy to. 

Their first-class passenger car was lined with amber-colored wooden panels, and as they were seated around the parquet table over cups of steaming tea, Lena nodded. 

“The message from the Legion that Captain Nouzen witnessed during the Charité underground-terminal operation—it was a clue that would supposedly lead to the commander unit, correct?” 

It was also the only remaining Ameise unit manufactured in the lifetime of Major Zelene Birkenbaum, the Legion’s creator and a researcher from the former Empire of Giad. Zelene’s personnel file hadn’t been lost during the upheaval of the revolution, so her head shot remained. The information-analysis team shared the photograph with the only person who had witnessed the message, Shin, who said he thought it matched the face he’d seen. 

Come find me. 

Words that were all too inexplicable for humankind, coming from the Legion that took no prisoners nor attempted any negotiation during their one-sided war for a country that didn’t exist anymore. Perhaps Shin, whose appearance greatly implied his Imperial noble descent, was one of the triggers. The Legion were currently an uncontrollable autonomous system, but they weren’t in a berserk state. The ones who’d given them orders were long gone. They continued to fight because it was the final order they’d received. Even now, the Legion were obeying the last will and testament of their ruined nation. 

If that was the case, perhaps the Legion had judged this situation of not receiving new orders for so many years to be unusual and had begun seeking a new master to lead them. 

“It’s believed any new information we gain by capturing it might be a hint toward ending the war.” 

Even if Zelene had no such intent, she was still responsible for the Legion’s development. It was possible that she possessed an emergency shutdown code or some kind of administrator password. 

“Yes. The United Kingdom has agreed to hand her over in exchange for their presence in all investigations and disclosure of all information we come up with, so after you seize or incapacitate the Ameise, please bring Zelene back home to us. We don’t mind what condition she’s in, so long as her central processor remains intact.” 

Annette tilted her head. 

“I’m surprised the United Kingdom accepted those terms. They’re a despotic monarchy, so from their perspective, the Republic and Federacy citizens are just commoners. I figured they’d be a little more condescending and give us a hard time.” 

“It just means they don’t have the leisure to do that any longer. This expedition’s objective is a tech exchange with them, of course, but it’s effectively an aid effort from the Federacy to the United Kingdom.” 

“But is that really true? The United Kingdom and its Owl King have been feared since before the war with the Legion began, and now they’re on the brink of collapse…?” 

The United Kingdom of Roa Gracia was currently the second-strongest surviving country, after the Federal Republic of Giad. While the Federacy dwarfed the United Kingdom in population and sheer territory size, the United Kingdom had the martial strength to withstand the large-scale offensive and send forces to assist with the Morpho’s subjugation operation. 

Why would such a powerful country do this now, all of a sudden? 

“The answer is simpler than you’d think. Now that the Sheepdogs make up the bulk of the enemy’s forces, the fighting becomes that much more challenging on every front in every country.” 

Lena grimaced in realization as Grethe took a sip of her coffee substitute. The Sheepdogs. The mass-produced intelligent Legion created by using Republic citizens captured in the large-scale offensive. It appeared they had transferred the data to their military kernel before they abandoned the production site during the underground-terminal operation. 

Ever since that operation, the Legion’s strategies had become more elaborate. It seemed the replacement of the Black Sheep—Legion that assimilated the damaged neural networks of the dead—with the Sheepdogs was progressing. 

“As planned, Major Penrose and I will be in charge of the technology exchange. Colonel Milizé, you will be in charge of command on the front lines. Part of the United Kingdom’s unit is set to join the Strike Package upon completion of this operation, so become familiar with their forces as soon as you can.” 

Grethe said this with a grin. 

“We’ll be mobilizing all four thousand of our number for this mission. It’s time for the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package to show off what it can really do.” 

Annette tilted her head. 

“There were a lot of people who didn’t volunteer, too. I hear around ten thousand surviving Eighty-Six were taken in and sheltered by the Federacy.” 

The Eighty-Six were treated as special officers who received a higher education during their service in the Federacy military. Having been sent to internment camps since their early childhood, they’d never even received an elementary education. As such, their term of education was longer than a regular special officer’s, and while some studied through correspondence, their tutoring was moved to a special school set up near their headquarters’ base. 

With their scheduled leaves taken into consideration, a quarter of the troops at a time alternated between schooling and training, so the largest number of troops the Strike Package could deploy at any given time was four thousand. 

Incidentally, the ones who studied from afar using correspondence were Shin and his group, the first to be sheltered by the Federacy. Following the large-scale offensive and the establishing of the Strike Package, they were too occupied with their duties and ended up neglecting their schoolwork. But even if one were to assume that only half of the ten thousand troops rescued were active forces, the math still didn’t align with the fact that they had only four thousand troops. 

“Former maintenance crew members became Reginleif mechanics… Some of those children can’t fight. Some fought too much. Others lost the will to fight.” 

The number didn’t include children who’d been sent to the internment camps at an extremely young age, those who’d developed mental health issues, and those who simply didn’t want to be drafted. 

“And how are those kids…er…being treated?” 

It seemed the Federacy had its own share of problems, what with large amounts of invalids and war orphans who had appeared over the ten years since the Legion War had started. 

“They were either sent to specialized institutions or taken in by guardians… The Eighty-Six are treated like Captain Nouzen and his group; they’re adopted on paper by former nobles and high officials. Most of them are only lending their names, but they can’t treat them too carelessly. Their names are quite literally on the line here.” 

It had been only ten years since Giad had transitioned from an Imperial government to a democracy, but the ethos of noblesse oblige—which included acts of philanthropy—still held strong. Perhaps now that the class system had officially been abolished, that was the only means the former nobility had left to set themselves apart from the masses. Lena sighed in relief. 

“I see. That’s…good, then.” 

“Between that and the cooperation with the United Kingdom, there are times when the nobles’ obsession with maintaining their honor and dignity can come in handy.” 

The United Kingdom’s sending of forces after the conclusion of the joint operation was also thanks to this idea of noblesse oblige. One of its commanding officers was to join them as a guest officer under Lena’s direct command. As such, he’d be demoted to lieutenant colonel so as not to clash with Lena’s rank of colonel. 

“I hear the United Kingdom officer is royalty.” 

“Yes, the fifth prince, Viktor Idinarohk. Despite being only eighteen years old, he’s an influential figure who serves as the southern front’s military commander. He’s also a deputy secretary of the royal technological institute and this generation’s Espers.” 

Grethe mentioned it casually, but for Lena, who grew up in the Republic, the word Esper still had an esoteric ring to it. On rare occasion, members of a particularly archaic bloodline exhibited these supernatural abilities, and Giad, which had been ruled by royalty until eleven years ago, still retained several of those families. Some Espers would enlist in the military, acting as specialists who performed as well as, if not better than, modern equipment. 

The Republic, on the other hand, did away with Espers three hundred years ago, when it abolished the class system. In order to avoid mixed blood and perform consanguineous marriages without adverse effects, a clan required a large number of family members, as well as assets to support them. And the old nobles, who had lost their assets and land to the revolution, couldn’t maintain those conditions. 

The Strike Package included two Espers already, namely Shin and Frederica. But from Lena’s perspective and that of common sense, something about those extrasensory abilities felt terribly unnatural. And after the last operation, Shin’s ability caused his physical condition to deteriorate significantly. 

This wasn’t something normal, of course, but resulted from the strain caused by the introduction of the Sheepdogs. But if his ability burdened him so much, Lena honestly couldn’t bring herself to believe it was something he should employ as a matter of course… And Grethe had described the United Kingdom’s Esper as “this generation’s Esper”… If that implied many couldn’t exist in the same generation, it may well have meant these abilities had enough of an adverse effect on one’s health to cut down their life span… 

“…Hmm, what kind of special ability does the royal family have?” 

“Prince Viktor single-handedly developed the Legion’s artificial intelligence model, the Mariana Model, but maybe saying that he developed it when he was only five years old will put things into perspective. Theirs is a bloodline that produces geniuses and prodigies. He also has the impressive achievement of developing and improving the United Kingdom’s Feldreß control system… On the other hand, he’s infamously known as the King of Corpses and the Serpent of Shackles and Decay—the viper. There are also rumors that his right to claim the throne has been revoked.” 

Annette repeated her words in shock. 

“R-revoked?! He didn’t relinquish it? It was revoked…?” 

“And ‘Serpent of Shackles and Decay’…? That’s awful…!” 

In the cultural sphere of the continent’s west, snakes were a symbol of corruption and the devil. Especially the viper, which had potent venom capable of melting away one’s flesh and curdling their blood. It was not a name one would lovingly give their prince. 

“Despite that, the authorities he’s been given are many and significant, and the crown prince, who shares the same mother as Prince Viktor, seems to cherish him… There’s a struggle over the succession rights of the United Kingdom between the crown prince and the second prince and first princess, who are children of concubines. Prince Viktor is part of the crown prince Zafar’s faction. He’s lauded as the right-hand man of the capable, renowned crown prince.” 

“…Where did you get all this information…?” 

Grethe shrugged casually. 

“We reopened this railway the winter before you arrived, and some members of the United Kingdom military, a small number of soldiers, have been coming and going ever since.” 

“…Right.” 

“So at that time, the information bureau sent people over to their side or perhaps restored contact with people who were there to begin with… I suspect the same holds true for both sides here.” 

The former Giadian Empire and the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia had been despotic monarchies and old allies, but at the same time, they’d served as hypothetical enemies of each other. And that hadn’t changed even now that the Empire had fallen and humanity had gone to war with the Legion… 

“By the way, Colonel Milizé.” 

Grethe spoke with the same casual tone one might use when mentioning the weather, so Lena was caught unprepared. Annette, who did pick up on what was coming, stealthily left her seat. 

“Did you have a fight with Captain Nouzen?” 

Lena choked on her tea. 

“Huhhh…?!” 

“I haven’t seen the two of you speak ever since you returned from the Republic.” 

“Er, that’s…” 

Lena turned to Annette in a pleading manner, but Annette avoided her gaze. 

“I’m not touching this.” 

“I didn’t intend to involve myself in your private affairs, but this has been going on for far too long. If our tactical commander and the captain of our armored units have communication issues, it could impact future operations.” 

“Right…” 

It’s been like this ever since then. 

“You’re still trapped by the Republic. By us—the white pigs.” 

“That makes me…so sad.” 

Since she’d said that, she hadn’t had a proper conversation with Shin. It wasn’t that they were avoiding each other. They had exchanges that pertained to their duties, but they couldn’t hold a conversation about anything else. So all the trifling topics they’d talk about when they finished their reports and business talks or whenever they passed each other in the hallway simply stopped happening. All that remained was strained silence, and the awkwardness of it all stymied their conversations. 

That situation had lasted for a while now. She didn’t regret anything she had said back then, but she now realized that it had been wrong of her to one-sidedly make assumptions. At the time…when she said it, Shin had seemed to be enraged momentarily but had restrained himself. Still, there had been a hint of annoyance in his voice when he spat out: 

“I don’t…understand.” 

And there had been reservation mixed in his tone as well, along with… 

“Is that really so bad, Lena?” 

…confusion. Complete and utter confusion. 

He couldn’t understand what Lena was so apprehensive about or what had made her sad to begin with. His eyes showed he couldn’t comprehend it whatsoever. As if none of her words, none of her emotions ever got through to him. As if he were an innocent, warped monster that resembled a human in shape alone. 

Her sudden confession had likely confused him. It felt as if this was how she wanted him to be. 

But I’m completely different from them. And I didn’t want to have to think that we might speak the same language, see the same world, exist in the same place, yet never see eye to eye. 

No. 

It’s more than that. 

At the time, his crimson gaze had held a mixture of indignation and confusion—and behind it was the wavering light of a wounded child. She was sure of it. As if he’d been struck by someone he’d never imagined would lash out at him. As if he’d never expected Lena to say that to him. 

Fighting to the bitter end and moving on to their final destination was the Eighty-Six’s pride and freedom. Lena had heard it before. From them. And to live up to those words, they stepped back into the fray even after they’d been rescued by the Federacy. So to tell them that they were still trapped…that they were still in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, that they hadn’t moved a single step forward from where they once were, was an insult beyond description. 

Under the pretense of grief, she’d trampled over the only sense of pride they were allowed to have. 

She didn’t want to think she might have been the one to hurt them this way… And the moment she had, Lena had been assailed by a self-hatred that felt like drowning in a sea of flames. In other words, she’d been the one avoiding Shin. Running from the fact that she’d insulted him… From the fact that she’d hurt him. 

“…Colonel?” 

It had been the same two years ago. She’d thought she was standing by their side, that she understood them. But the truth was she hadn’t really tried to learn anything about them, not even their names. She’d just one-sidedly forced her feelings and impressions on them and, in so doing, hurt them. 

“Colonel Milizé.” 

Nothing’s changed. I’ve learned nothing after all this time. How disgraceful. How embarrassing. 

“Colonel, I’m talking to you.” 

…Wait, no. What am I going to do if he hates me for this …? ! 

“Hey, cut it out, Lena. Just calm down.” 

Lifting her face with a start, she found Grethe and Annette staring at her. Lena then realized she’d cradled her head and sagged against the table without noticing. 

Grethe flashed a grin. 

“…Looks like it’s more severe than I thought.” 

“I-I’m sorry…” 

“Well, you’ve only just met him. The occasional disagreement or argument is par for the course.” 

Grethe’s ruby lips curled upward once more. 

“Captain Nouzen won’t be stopping at the base our unit will be stationed in. He’ll be coming with us to the royal capital. You’ll have plenty of time to talk until the operation. Use that time to patch things up.” 

*   *   * 

“…By the way…” 

With his eyes still turned to the darkened train window despite not really looking at it, Shin tensed up when he heard Raiden’s voice. 

“Did you have a fight with Lena or something?” 

He’d already lost the moment he’d looked back at him reflexively. Raiden leaned his elbow against the window and pressed his cheek against his fist as Shin raised an eyebrow. 

“…How?” 

“Whaddaya mean, how…? You were trying to hide it? Hell, man, you really have no self-awareness whatsoever, do you?” 

Hearing Raiden’s incredulous voice was surprisingly irritating. Shin sighed, breaking the inadvertent glare he’d shot into Raiden’s reddish-brown eyes, and shifted his gaze back to the blackened window. 

“…I don’t think it was really much of a fight.” 

Shin couldn’t call it a fight, given his all-too-vast experience with fights to the death and the terribly hateful treatment those descended from the Empire’s bloodlines sometimes received. Compared to that, a simple difference in opinions didn’t even register as a dispute. 

Or rather, it shouldn’t have, but… 

“She said we…the Eighty-Six, are still trapped in the Eighty-Sixth Sector.” 

Raiden fell into a momentary silence. 

“…Did she, now?” 

He squinted but suppressed whatever emotion made him do so, probably because Lena was the one who’d said it. And she certainly hadn’t said it out of spite. But they still annoyed him, which was an emotion Shin knew all too well. 

“That makes me…so sad.” 

The moment he’d heard those words, something had instinctively spurred him to recoil. But what had sprung up alongside that emotion was confusion and just the slightest tinge of pain. His not being able to understand what Lena was so apprehensive about was part of it, of course, but what confused him the most was that he didn’t understand why he felt the need to argue. 

Was it because if he did, he could continue believing people were despicable…? Was it so he wouldn’t give up on this world, cold and cruel as it was? 

But that’s exactly the way things were. 

That was just how the world worked. It didn’t revolve around humankind; it was indifferent and cold—and helplessly so. And that applied all the more for human beings, who, unlike the world, acted on the malice they felt for others. That was something Shin had learned all too well in the internment camps and on the battlefield of the Eighty-Sixth Sector. Seeing it repeat itself time after time gave him all the lessons he would ever need. 

So he’d simply pointed that out… What was unpleasant about that? He’d merely stated the facts. Was it because she was saddened? Because she pitied him? As Grethe once said, no one had the right to pity them. But at this point, Shin honestly couldn’t care about that anymore. The other party was free to pity them all they wanted, but Shin had no intent of playing along. 

But if so…why? 

Shin didn’t really understand what Lena was sad about. He had no desire to sadden her, of course, but since he couldn’t understand, he didn’t know how to handle it. It was hard not to feel as if she was avoiding him, and in truth, they had hardly spoken since. In the end, neither of them was willing to broach the subject, leaving things in a state of awkward silence. 

“—Shin. Yo, Shin.” 

Before he’d noticed, Raiden was waving a hand in front of his face. Shin seemed to have gotten lost in his thoughts for a good while. He looked back at Raiden, who smirked. 

“Y’know, you really…really have changed.” 

“?” 

“Forget it,” Raiden replied, exasperated. “Well, knowing you, you’ll end up trashing Undertaker soon enough, so talk to her then… I mean, your rig’s one hell of a Hangar Queen.” 

That was slang for a unit that always broke down and spent more time being repaired in the hangar than out on the battlefield. Small skirmishes aside, Undertaker had a way of always taking severe damage during large battles, so perhaps it was only natural it would end up being called that. 

“…Old Aldrecht always gave me shit for that…” 

“Yeah…” 

I ain’t telling you to apologize—I’m telling you to change yer ways! 

That crazy fightin’ style of yours is gonna get ya killed one day! 

Rito had told them he’d died during the large-scale offensive, along with the other maintenance crew members. All of them, on the same day. Shin had felt a tinge of emotion upon hearing that, but some part of him had known that might be the case. The Eighty-Six made the battlefield their home and prided themselves on fighting to the bitter end. And all Eighty-Six eventually died. And that held just as true for the old head of maintenance, who’d stood by their side despite being an Alba. 

But still… 

“…I kinda wish he survived.” 

Raiden turned his eyes to Shin, who continued without meeting his gaze. 

“If he could’ve survived until the rescue forces came, he might’ve at least been able to see his family’s pictures. Looking for their remains would have been difficult, but he would’ve been able to go to their last battlefield.” 

Unlike me, who can’t remember my family… Aldrecht, who still remembered his wife and daughter, could have had that little bit of peace. 

All Eighty-Six died eventually… Shin understood that. But that didn’t mean he was completely unmoved by the sheer amount of death he’d witnessed. 

“…True, once the war with the Legion ends, visiting graves like that will be a possibility.” 

After a heavy sigh, Raiden leaned forward. 

“What do you think, Shin? Did the ‘Zelene’ you saw look like she was down to end the war?” 

“…Who knows?” 

That woman-shaped cluster of Liquid Micromachines hadn’t possessed a feature to emit sound, so Shin had had no way of picking up any emotion or nuance in her tone. All he could glean was the message. 

Come find me. 

There was no way of knowing what the intent was. Even for Shin, the person to whom those words were directed. 

“It’s one thing to assume they want to negotiate or exchange information, but hoping something like that was a hint for ending the war feels like a leap of logic to me. Even if there is information the United Kingdom is holding back from us…I don’t see this war ending so easily.” 

There wasn’t a single place on the continent where one could escape the war, and they couldn’t remember a time when that wasn’t the case. However… 

“…But if the war ended…I think that’d be a good thing, in its own way.” 

I want to show her the sea. 

Things she didn’t know, things she’d never seen before. He wanted to show her everything the Legion had stolen from the world. Shin hadn’t forgotten those words. This was a worthy reason to fight. He didn’t have any expectations… That wish would likely go ungranted. But someday, if the war ended… 

Raiden fell silent for a moment. 

“Yeah. If the war ended…” 

His sentence cut off halfway through, and he didn’t say any more. His silence spoke volumes, and Shin understood. 

It would be nice if the war could end, they felt. But it was still impossible to imagine—because all they’d ever known was the battlefield. 

There was a loud groan, and then their car was suddenly filled with light. In less than twenty minutes, the rolling stock of the high-speed train had traversed the tunnel that had taken two years to excavate. Their corneas, which had gotten accustomed to the dark, were momentarily blinded by the sunlight but gradually grew used to the glaring whiteness that filled the scenery outside the train. 

The two wordlessly looked out the window. The bulletproof glass of the windowpanes impeded their visibility somewhat, giving the view outside a bluish tint. It was a different country, but the dreariness of it all remained the same. No combatants lived near the fronts. Any that survived left their homelands behind. 

Thick silver-gray flakes fluttered to the ground. Old ruins dotted the snowy fields, making the view appear almost as desolate as the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s battlefield; everything looked to have frozen over, and the wasteland stretched on as far as the eye could see. 

The United Kingdom of Roa Gracia’s Rogvolod City Terminal. 

“We’ll be heading to the base first, then. It’s the, uh, Revich Citadel Base, right?” 

“Yeah… Sorry for dropping all the dirty work on you.” 

“Well, you technically are my superior officer, and the staff officers and majors will be taking care of the transfer itself. You guys just take care of escorting the colonel and Lena.” 

Waving his hand, Theo made his way to his next train as the container for the Juggernauts was being unloaded and reloaded. Half the unit would go today, and the other half would go on the next transport. The Strike Package’s thousands of troops and their Feldreß would be moved to the Revich Citadel Base, on the United Kingdom’s front lines. They were making the transport in stages and with breaks in order to slip under the watchful eye of the Observation Control type, the Rabe. 

After seeing his comrades off, Shin turned around to look at Rogvolod City. As he’d been told on the train, this city, which lay at the feet of the Dragon Corpse mountain range, was covered in cold, light snow. It was the southernmost city populated by civilians and was currently under blackout, which spoke to how frugal they had to be with electricity. 

A short distance away from the city area, sitting in the shadow of a massive, rectangular domed structure lit by starlight, was the nuclear power plant that provided the district with heat. 

Suddenly he heard the sound of someone stomping through the snow behind him. 

“…Nouzen.” 

Turning to find the owner of the voice, Shin saw a young man with a medal bearing a vehicle on his chest. He was one of the controllers who served in Lena’s command car, Vanadis, and a contemporary of his from the special officer academy: Erwin Marcel. 

“Didn’t you retire from the military?” 

“I can’t pilot a Vánagandr anyway. My leg got messed up during the large-scale offensive.” 

Judging from the sound of his footsteps as he approached, the injury didn’t impede his walking, but Marcel looked down at his right leg as he spoke, saying that it was a compound fracture… When his broken bone had sliced through his flesh and skin, it had also severed a nerve. It didn’t hinder his day-to-day life, but the injury was devastating enough that he was no longer capable of the reaction speed needed for the split-second decision-making it took to pilot a Feldreß. 

“Besides, the hell do you mean, ‘Didn’t you retire’? Unlike you Eighty-Six, we special officers can’t put food on the table if we quit the army.” 

“You were gone from the register of the 177th Armored Division’s unit after the reorganization, but your name wasn’t announced on the war-dead broadcast. So I figured you retired… Didn’t think I’d see your name on the Strike Package’s command car unit register.” 

“…Didn’t think you cared. I always figured you didn’t give two shits about anyone and anything around you.” 

That lack of emotion and interest was something he’d hated about Shin since the special officer academy, Marcel thought. The way he was so detached from the hell of the battlefield… The way he could see through the terror in other people’s hearts felt almost as if he was mocking them in some way. 

“…About Nina.” 

Shin narrowed his eyes at the sudden mention of that name. Eugene had been a common friend and contemporary of theirs, and Nina was his younger sister. Shin had long since torn up and thrown away the letter she’d sent him, demanding to know why he’d killed her brother. 

“I shouldn’t have told her how Eugene died… That letter wasn’t something a person needed to receive right before an operation they could’ve died in. I should’ve just told her that Eugene died and it was tragic and left it at that, but I ended up saying too much. I wanted her to think his death was someone’s fault, and I pinned it on you… I’m sorry.” 

He lowered his head deeply. Shin simply shook his head and asked, “How’s she doing?” 

After she’d lost the parents she couldn’t remember, the one person she’d had left—her brother—had died, too. 

“Right… Well, she’s doing okay… With everything that went on with the Republic, the Alba back home are kind of ashamed. But, you know, her brother was a soldier, so she doesn’t get harassed, and she isn’t hung up on Eugene’s death, either.” 

Shin closed his eyes. 

She isn’t hung up on it. She isn’t waiting for her brother, knowing he’ll never return. 

“That’s…good, then.” 

Marcel’s face lit up with surprise before his expression shifted into a light smile. 

“…Right.” 

After Marcel walked away, Frederica, who had watched the exchange until now, walked up to Shin. 

“…Are you really fine with that? That man… Well…” 

“I don’t care… Not at this point.” 

She looked up at him with her eyes oddly half-open, shrugged, and craned her neck, causing her small head to droop. The only ones heading for the capital, Arcs Styrie, were the brigade commander, Grethe; the tactical commander, Lena; Annette; a few select technical officers; and the senior squadron commanders and their vice captains: Shin and Raiden, and Shiden and Shana. 

“It feels silly asking at this point, but is it all right for you to come with us to the capital?” 

Her even just being implicated in an operation in which soldiers from another country were involved was problematic. She was an empress, if only a former one who was just a baby when the war started and who hadn’t been formally coronated. Since her ability was passed down through her bloodline, Shin didn’t think it would be safe to have someone from outside the country see her. He’d started the conversation now because there was no concern of someone eavesdropping on them here. 

“My presence serves as the answer, does it not?” she said, as if without any intent to put on airs. “Members of the Giad Imperial household have been puppets for the great nobles for two centuries. Since the dawn of the Empire, the royal family has been forced to mix its blood with that of different races that entered the country. The lower nobles never knew the emperor’s face, to say nothing of the commoners, and have grown to believe the Imperial house’s abilities have diminished as repeated mixed marriages thinned our blood. Even the Idinarohks’ Amethystus would be hard pressed to learn that I am the empress Augusta… 

“Amethystus was a term used to describe the Idinarohk line’s Espers for generations,” she added. Theirs was a bloodline that produced geniuses capable of feats like developing new AI models each generation. 

“However, I do believe some of the western front’s generals harbor suspicions of my survival… Otherwise the record of your exchange with Milizé following Kiriya’s destruction would not have been played as it was before the generals.” 

Shin grimaced because he’d been forced to be present in the briefing when the recording was played before the generals, a time that he could only compare to torture. It was a memory he didn’t want to relive, so he’d kept it out of his mind until this moment. Even if the mission recorder had mostly picked up audio that had gone through the Processor’s intercom and exchanges with the outside, it was unlikely that it hadn’t picked up the voice of Frederica—who’d been in the cockpit with him—at all. 

Right. At the time, Ernst had called her Frederica. 

“So since he knows, there’s no danger of him betraying you?” 

“On the contrary…” 

Frederica tilted her head lightly. Almost sorrowfully… Apprehensively. 

“I’m sure you’ve suspected it… But that man is a fire-breathing dragon. He puts ideals before all else and would cast himself and the rest of the world into the flames for the sake of upholding them—with an obsession and fixation that cannot be restrained. Honestly, that man is such a dragon.” 

“…” 

There was an expression that sometimes surfaced on the face of the man who was technically his adoptive father that contrasted with his usual amicable gaze. Words that were equal parts sympathetic and hollow, with only a thin veneer of sincerity on the surface. At times, Shin noticed the subtle cruelty behind his words. 

If that’s what humankind has to do to survive, then we deserve to be wiped out. 

“If I were to be set up as a symbol to capsize the Federacy… If humankind was foolish enough to put the Federacy and the rest of the world in danger before the conclusion of the war with the Legion, over pointless greed…he would likely think we were all better off going extinct.” 

A change to democracy meant the transition and redistribution of wealth. Properties and commodities that once belonged exclusively to the royalty, who made up only a small percentage of the population, were distributed among the populace. That led to an increase in the standard of living for the vast majority of people. But it also meant that extravagant, gaudy luxury items gradually started to disappear. 

However, in the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia, which had been a powerful country for generations and was now the only remaining despotic monarchy, the royalty still held its wealth. In fact, Roa Gracia was the only nation that still produced such luxury items. The royal castle, which stood as the symbol and temple of the royals, was so dauntingly glamorous that it left Lena feeling overwhelmed. 

The room they’d been taken to looked as if it had been made to entertain guests, not conduct official business. Laburnum and rose vines dangled down from the ceiling, along with a crystal chandelier in the shape of a blue passionflower, and the polished agate floor shone as if a mirror had been spread out below them. The furniture was all uniformly made of ebony inlaid with malachite, and a large number of roses—which were particularly rare in the frigid north—sat in aventurine vases. 

At the corner of the room were a shining glasswork model of a peacock, a skull made of opal that was attached to the wall as if it were the prize of some hunt, and what appeared to be a genuine dinosaur fossil. 

The white chalk wall was adorned with plaster craftsmanship modeled after a silvery vine pattern drawn with such minute detail that it made one’s head spin. It spoke to the vast amount of time that had gone into fashioning it… The absurd authority and power to produce, collect, and still maintain such riches… The overwhelming, awe-inspiring influence. 

The Milizé family was a well-known house in the Republic and boasted a great deal of wealth and history, but it was still a house of former nobles who’d lost their status and their right to taxation three hundred years ago in the revolution. The riches here were on another level entirely. 

She didn’t let her feelings show on her face, but she was still a bit unnerved. She looked to Shin, who seemed as indifferent as ever, in contrast to her. He was leaning his back against the wall and folding his arms—this was likely a habit of his. His bloodred eyes were cast down in what seemed like contemplative silence. 

Looking around, she found Raiden and Shiden, who’d come as escorts. Raiden stifled a yawn like a bored wolf with more time on his hands than he knew what to do with, and Shiden was tampering with her tightly fastened tie, but she didn’t seem particularly overwhelmed by the spectacle. Frederica naturally sat on the ball-and-claw-footed sofa as if she felt right at home in this lavish setting. 

The Eighty-Six valued little outside the battlefield they’d grown up on and their routine mortal combat. Anything that would imply status or garner respect in normal society didn’t really leave an impression on them. As such, the lush interior and extravagant decor had little impact in their eyes; it wasn’t as if the furniture could bite, after all. 

Easily imagining them coming up with that kind of answer, Lena smiled slightly. In the event that she asked Shin if this kind of setting made him uncomfortable, she imagined that was the kind of answer he would give. The only things they found intimidating were the Legion they fought, and the only things they valued were the skills and knowledge needed to survive in battle. The world of man—with its rules and standards—was something utterly foreign to them. 

Unusually enough, they were all wearing full formal attire, which was usually reserved for social events. Lena couldn’t recall seeing them wear anything like that previously, and the sight soothed her strained nerves a bit. 

According to their dispatch plan, only the brigade commander, Grethe, was to hold an audience with the king and the crown prince. Annette was sent to greet the technology division with Shana as her escort, and Lena’s group was sent to meet the fifth prince in an official capacity, since both he and they were military personnel. 

Still, the person in question was royalty. One would have to mind their appearance. Lena was a given, of course, but even Shin and the other Processors came in full Federacy dress uniform, complete with their medals, armbands, and Sam Browne belts. They even had several service ribbons, which they didn’t normally wear, pinned to the left breast of their blazers. 

After exhaling the air in her lungs with a sigh, Lena steeled herself. Let’s go. 

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you all in dress uniforms.” 

There was a considerable pause before Shin responded, likely due to the glance his crimson eyes sneaked at her. 

“…That makes sense. We don’t really wear them outside of ceremonies.” 

The curt manner of his response made relief wash over Lena. It was Shin’s usual tone. 

“Ceremonies?” 

She gave her reply in a natural, casual tone. That was good. 

“Like the enlistment ceremony… And award ceremonies.” 

“Oh.” 

Every army would publicly celebrate distinguished war service as well as the war wounded as a way of encouraging the former and pacifying the latter. It was also a great way to boost morale. It was different for Shiden, who was still a relatively new recruit, but Shin and Raiden, with their two years of military service in the Federacy, had already accumulated a surprisingly large number of medals. Of course, it was too soon for them to receive one for long service, but they did have medals for their capabilities and achievements. They both had impressive Legion kill counts, so their medals likely indicated that. 

“I’d have liked to see those… Do you think if I asked the president, he’d have pictures or footage of it?” 

The Federacy’s temporary president, Ernst Zimmerman, was Shin’s legal guardian and was the kind to proactively keep those kinds of records. Shin, however, simply frowned. 

“Please don’t. There’s nothing fun about watching that.” 

Which meant there certainly were some records. Lena decided she would ask Ernst for them when they returned to the Federacy. However reluctant Ernst may be to share them, Grethe would probably manage something. 

Lena heaved an internal sigh of relief over the success of her first attempt at idle conversation with Shin in a while. 

Thank goodness. At the very least, he doesn’t seem to hate me for what I said. 

She then went on to ask something else that was on her mind. 

“Er… Is something bothering you? You’ve been acting strange for some time.” 

Or rather, ever since they entered the United Kingdom’s territory. At Rogvolod City Terminal, on the train to the capital, and when they were led to the rooms prepared for them in one wing of the palace. Every now and then, Shin’s gaze would turn nervously in an unexpected direction. And he’d been like that since they’d come into this room, too. Something was bothering him, like a hound attentively perking up his ears, picking up something a human’s sense of hearing couldn’t. 

“Yeah…” 

Breaking off his words, Shin fell quiet for a moment. His silence felt oddly hesitant, as if he himself wasn’t convinced about what he was about to say. 

“…I can hear the Legion’s voices from close by. I don’t have an exact number, but there’s quite a few of them.” 

“Wha—?” 

Having almost yelled out in surprise, Lena hurriedly restrained herself. Feeling a suspicious gaze turned her way from a blond-haired, blue-eyed Emeraud chamberlain standing in the corner, she stifled her voice. 

“Why did you keep quiet about it until now? The United Kingdom already knows about your ability. You should have warned us if a raid was coming…” 

Her tone came across as sharp in spite of herself. Preparing for a Legion raid ahead of time could greatly diminish the number of casualties, and no country had managed to develop a means of gaining recon on the Legion with as large a range or degree of accuracy as Shin’s power yet. 

But Shin simply responded with a confused expression, as if he was uncertain about what he was saying. 

“Because they’re too close. Judging from how close the voices are, they’re definitely coming from within the capital, and the closest one is here, inside the castle. I can’t really assume they infiltrated.” 

It was, after all, a national capital. Arcs Styrie was a good distance away from the front lines, with a great deal of defenses standing between them. Even if the Legion had infiltrated behind the front lines, it was unlikely even a single self-propelled mine would have gotten this far. 

“I thought an Eintagsfliege might have managed to fly in somehow, but there’s too many voices for that. It’s likely Legion they captured for research purposes. If nothing else, I don’t think any fighting will break out.” 

“—Close but no cigar, as they say. But as you’ve surmised, there’s no danger to be wary of. Please ignore it, if you would.” 

There came an unfamiliar voice. It echoed sweetly in the ear, with a permeating tenor that felt accustomed to making speeches but still rung as the voice of a boy near their age. A youth clad in the United Kingdom’s violet-and-black uniform with a stand-up collar entered through a door held open by a chamberlain. 

He had the thin physique of a young man in his late teens. The United Kingdom’s royalty customarily grew out their hair, but his was cut short, and he had the fair complexion characteristic of those living in the north. His eyes were faintly slanted like a tiger’s, with his features being an equal balance of dainty gentleness and inhuman cruelty. He had a somewhat androgynous countenance that came across as aristocratic, but for some reason Lena associated his overall appearance with a slender black serpent. 

Sleek pitch-black scales. Beautiful eyes the color of purple lightning. 

A cold-blooded beast, devoid of human empathy. 

The boy gave a sinister smile, narrowing his cold, gemlike, Imperial violet eyes. 

“I apologize for the wait, dear friends. I am Viktor Idinarohk, your comrade starting today… Allow me to first greet you. Welcome to the unicorn’s castle.” 

The prince made his way over to them, accompanied by the sound of his military boots clicking against the agate floor and the gentle rustling of his clothes. His outfit gave off the scent of southern frankincense. Lena caught herself starting at him, forgoing all notions of manners and etiquette. His beautiful facial features stood in contrast to how naturally his uniform gave off a sense of overpowering, solemn dignity. 

“So His Majesty the prince himself really came to greet us.” 

The prince raised his brows in an exaggerated fashion. 

“You already have a grasp on our weakness, I believe… The United Kingdom was where the Mariana Model, which went on to become the basis of the Legion, was developed. Even if the war were to end, the other countries would no doubt regard us with disdain.” 

“…” 

There was no direct causality between the development of the Mariana Model and the war with the Legion, but things would likely play out as the prince said. When calamity strikes, people tend to look for a cause. Even if it requires a great leap, or rather lapse, in logic, they seek to pin the blame for the wrongs done to them on someone else. 

“Though I suppose we’ll be better off than the Empire, which developed the Legion, or rather its successor, the Federacy… Though even if they don’t intend to admit to or take any responsibility for it, they still exhibit enough good faith that it is unlikely anyone would demand it of them. The people are more swayed by a country that extends a helping hand to its neighbors than by one that wouldn’t even protect its own citizens.” 

He then shrugged in a detached manner… Perhaps it was due to his life in the military, but his gestures didn’t come across as the least bit regal. 

“And so the royalty gets sent around to make courtesy calls… But the same holds true, once again, for the Federacy. The Eighty-Sixth Strike Package. An elite unit composed of young men and women sent to give aid to other countries. The same deeds would not have been the slightest bit picturesque had it been coarse men doing them, but the story is quite different when child soldiers of such tragic roots are the ones doing the saving.” 

“Nng…?!” 

Lena’s breath caught in her throat. She’d seen and known the pity rooted in condescension that some of the Federacy’s citizens showed the Eighty-Six. But for the Federacy’s government to have sent them out on the premise they’d be pitied, hoping to use the Eighty-Six as a diplomatic tool to buy the other countries’ sympathy…?! 

Just how low could people stoop? 

She felt an icy tone and warped smile nearly wash over her, but she quickly shook them off. 

That can’t be. People are more than just needlessly cruel and heartless. This is a time of war, and they might have to show only their most ugly facets, but…people, and this world, are actually… 

“But, Your Highness… That’s…” 

The prince gave a sociable smile. 

“Call me Vika, please. You can do away with the titles and empty formalities. They’re a waste of time in the military, after all. And I’ll address you all by your surnames. If you find it rude, feel free to say so, and I will correct myself accordingly.” 

Calling someone by their nickname was something that was permitted only for those who were close to that person. Considering the individual in question was royalty, it came across as exceptionally cordial treatment, but as he’d said, it wasn’t out of affection as much as a sense of rationality. After all, he may have allowed them to call him by his nickname, but he intended to stand on formality and address them with their last names. 

As Lena opened her mouth to speak, he silenced her with a raised hand. 

“I said there’s no need for empty formalities, Colonel Vladilena Milizé. Your data has been disclosed to the United Kingdom, and I’ve taken the liberty of reading up on you ahead of time. You don’t have to waste your breath on introductions.” 

Incidentally, the United Kingdom hadn’t disclosed any information regarding him. At least, nothing that had reached Lena. 

“…Well, it may come off as a touch impolite as exchanges go, but feel free to see it as us not having the leisure for such niceties and graciously forgive me for it. After all…” 

He glanced at the large window with a view of the capital’s streets, motioning at them to look as well, and curled his lips upward coldly. 

“…as you can see, our United Kingdom is in an extremely critical situation.” 

Yes, it was plain to see. 

Outside the window, thick, low silver clouds shrouded the sky, and snow fluttered gently down despite it being late spring, whiting out all other colors. Even in the Federacy, there were no more days of sudden chill, and in the Republic, early blooming summer roses opened up around this time. Even a northern country wouldn’t have a midwinter-like snowfall at this time of year. 

As Lena looked up at the clouds, she could see flickers of silver reflecting the lights from the ground at the edge of her vision. It was as if countless small shards of metal were reflecting the light. Like the fluttering of countless butterfly wings… 

“Eintagsfliege…” 

“Indeed. Even this land, beloved as it is by the goddess of white snow, would not be covered by its veil this late into the year.” 

That was the expression used by the United Kingdom to describe winter, but there wasn’t a hint of a smile on Vika’s face. His eyes had the same coldness as the soul-freezing winter of the north. 

“Because of the multilayered deployment of those metal clouds—the Eintagsfliege—the United Kingdom is rapidly cooling. Along with the capital, half of our territories’ south is blanketed by their wings.” 

The Electronic Disruption type, the Eintagsfliege, was capable of deflecting and disrupting electronic waves of all kinds, light included. In the Eighty-Sixth Sector, their hordes resembled thin silver clouds that blotted out the sun, and on the Federacy’s fronts, where their deployment was more intense, the sky seemed to be constantly shut out behind oppressive silver. 

But there were no documented cases of them ever deploying in numbers significant enough to create snowfall during late spring, or over such a large radius… 

“When did this start?” 

“Around when the mass-produced intelligent Legion you call Sheepdogs became the main force. In other words, early this spring.” 

It was as she suspected. 

“Our southern agricultural regions will be devastated at this rate… This country wasn’t too blessed with sunlight to begin with, so the majority of our electricity comes from geothermal, coal-based, and nuclear power plants. But if we divert all our production plants to producing food, we won’t be able to defend ourselves. If the Legion keep tightening the noose around our necks like this, by next spring, my country won’t exist.” 

With a wave of his hand, a three-dimensional hologram appeared in the middle of the room. It was a solid map that displayed a simplified view of the United Kingdom’s territories. As she saw Shin approach the map, likely sensing there was an explanation coming, Lena said, “If they use the same tactic elsewhere, the Federacy might be fine, given its large territory, but any other country wouldn’t last.” 

“Yes. And that’s why we have to nip their plan in the bud now, while they’re still using the United Kingdom as a testing ground. Thankfully, the Federacy and the United Kingdom have the same objective. The Merciless Queen you lot are looking for is deep within the Legion’s territory, in the Eintagsfliege production site in the depths of the Dragon Fang Mountain.” 

The display showed the Dragon Corpse mountain range, namely the part near the border with the Republic, which was the United Kingdom’s battlefield. It then switched to a three-dimensional model depicting the Dragon Fang Mountain, which lay deep within the mountain range. It seemed there was a production plant there. The hologram also displayed the estimated number of hostiles and the linear distance from the nearest front, which was an estimated seventy kilometers. 

“The objective of this joint operation is the invasion and retaking of the Dragon Fang Mountain and the capture of the Merciless Queen.” 

“Precisely, Bloody Reina. We will have you shoot down the moon for us.” 

Gazing at the model of the Dragon Fang Mountain, which, as its name implied, was shaped like a massive fang sticking out toward the heavens with a typical rocky, pyramidal peak, Lena spoke: 

“Your Highness.” 

“It’s Vika, Milizé.” 

“Pardon, Vika. I would like for you to confirm the force you’ll be commanding during this operation. I’ve heard your country employs autonomous unmanned weapons to defend its borders.” 

This was the reason for the United Kingdom’s ability to defend its territory despite its national power being inferior to the Federacy’s. Vika broke into a small, cynical smile. 

“Half autonomous. We wouldn’t make the folly of bringing fully autonomous weapons into the fray with the example of the Legion breathing down our necks. Besides, the United Kingdom hasn’t reproduced an autonomous AI on the level of the Legion.” 

“But that’s… Even you can’t reproduce it, Vika?” 

“It’s not that I can’t. I simply have no desire to.” 

The prince said this in a self-important manner, as if to say he could do it if he put his mind to it, with the same lightness as if they were discussing a slightly complicated cooking recipe. But even as the survival of his country and the countless lives of his civilians hung in the balance, he easily cut down the possibility, saying he wasn’t up to it. 

Lena realized she’d gotten a glimpse of the cruelty of noble blood, which the Republic, with its emphasis on equality, wasn’t familiar with. Blue blood, lacking any and all warmth. 

“The drone you describe is called an Alkonost. It’s a half-autonomous Feldreß meant for combating large groups of enemies… In terms of ratio, they make up fifty percent of our forces, with the other half being our manned Barushka Matushkas, but the units under my direct command are almost entirely Alkonosts. Including my personal unit, Barushka Matushkas are only used for defending the command post.” 

“You say ‘half-autonomous’… So they’re operated remotely by humans—by Handlers, yes? Is the method of operation wireless? How do you bypass the Eintagsfliege’s electronic disruption?” 

“Alkonosts are connected to their Handlers via the technology you call the Para-RAID.” 

Lena knit her brows dubiously. The Para-RAID—Sensory Resonance—was a communication method that made use of linking senses, mostly hearing, by way of the collective unconscious shared by all humankind. In so doing, it overcame the obstacles of distance, physical obstruction, and all manner of jamming. 

That, in and of itself, made it extremely groundbreaking technology, but since it employed the human collective unconscious, it didn’t allow one to communicate with anything that wasn’t human—namely machines, which didn’t have a consciousness of their own. 

Or rather, as far as Lena knew, it shouldn’t have enabled communication with anything that wasn’t human. 

“B-but how…?” 

“I’ll show you right now. Lerche, are you there?” 

He didn’t raise his voice, but a response came from behind the door. 

“Of course.” 

“I’ll introduce you. Come in.” 

“Yes.” 

The door opened. Remaining at a distance that was a bit too far to hold a conversation, the figure knelt in a lively manner. 

“’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Lerche, knight and royal guard to Prince Viktor. I serve as his sword and shield.” 

The figure spoke with a clear, high-pitched, pleasant voice, like the chirping of a songbird. 

“The Republic’s Lady Bloody Reina and the Federacy’s Sir Reaper, Sir Wehrwolf, and Lady Cyclops. I’ve heard much of your military fame. Especially you, Sir Reaper. I would very much like to be instructed by you, if given the chance.” 

As mentioned, her voice was like lovely chirping. 

“And as for the lovely princess over there, I welcome you to our snow-white country. I’m always willing to accommodate if playing in the snow suits your fancy, so feel free to call for me whenever you wish.” 

Redundant though it may be to mention again, her voice was exceedingly pleasant. 

“…I’m sorry—give me a minute.” 

Vika raised his hands, walked over to the kneeling figure, and shouted at her lowered head. 

“Lerche! Didn’t I tell you to take this chance to change the way you speak to people?!” 

She lifted her face in surprise. She was an Emeraud girl with golden hair tied tightly in a bun and green eyes. She seemed to be the same age as Vika, which meant she was also roughly the same age as Lena and Shin. She was dressed in an old-style military uniform made of rouge-colored fabric and decorated with golden laces, with a formal-looking saber sheathed at her waist. She had petite, lovely facial features, and her thin eyebrows were scrupulously upturned in protest. 

“What…? Your Highness, what are you saying?! This is proof of my fealty to you, and even your orders will not deter me!” 

“What vassal would adopt a manner of speech that disturbs their master as proof of their fealty?! Are you an idiot, you seven-year-old?!” 

“Good advice, just like effective medicine, is oh so bitter, Your Highness! And that is why, despite the sorrow it brings me, I treat you with undying respect! To have my actions seen under such scrutiny shames me to no end…!” 

Vika cradled his head in annoyance. 

“Aaaah, confound it all—no matter what I say, you always have a retort…! What bloody fool tuned your linguistic features…?!” 

“…With all due respect, Your Highness, the only one who has ever handled my tuning is you.” 

“I know that—I’m just grumbling! By God, just ignore it!” 

“M-my—I apologize for any disrespect…!” 

The girl’s reply was respectful yet despondent. Watching the conversation between the two, who didn’t seem to mesh quite right, Lena couldn’t help but giggle, albeit with pangs of guilt. She’d wondered what kind of man this King of Corpses would be, but seeing him frolic about with his friendly attendant made him seem like nothing more than a boy their age. 

“…How do I put this? I suppose one’s reputation really is removed from reality.” 

She whispered this so only Shin could hear. But no response came. Looking up at Shin, she found his expression was oddly stiff as he stared at the lord and his servant standing near the door. Specifically, his gaze was fixed on Lerche, the girl in the crimson uniform. 

“…Captain? What—?” 

Shin spoke up, cutting off Lena’s query. 

“…Your Highness.” 

Vika narrowed his eyes with interest—the Imperial violet eyes of an ill-natured tiger or perhaps those of a vicious serpent. 

“I’ll say it again, but Vika will do, Nouzen.” 

“Fine, Vika… What is that thing?” 

“Captain…!” 

When Lena realized the “thing” Shin was referring to was Lerche, she chastised him. Vika, on the other hand, gave him a thin smile. 

“Ooh. I see your title of Reaper is well-earned, indeed… Lerche.” 

“Yes.” 

“Show them.” 

“Very well.” 

Lerche rose to her feet briskly, as if she were a knight taking off her helmet… 

…removed her head, and held it up in the air. 

No one in attendance could blame Lena for taking a frightened step back. 

“What…?!” 

Frederica’s large eyes widened in shock, and Raiden and Shiden leaned forward from the wall they’d been standing against. Even Shin, who wasn’t one for flinching, narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Vika alone remained composed. 

“Allow me to properly introduce her. This is the first unit of the Artificial Fairies—the Sirins. The pinnacle of the United Kingdom’s technological achievements and the crux of our national defense.” 

With a wave of Vika’s hand, a sensor located somewhere in the room reacted, projecting a hologram near his slender form. That was likely the Alkonost. The three-dimensional model displayed a Feldreß that was more slender than the Juggernaut, so much so that it made them doubt if it was armored at all. Its torso included a small cockpit hardly large enough to contain a human. 

“This is the central processor of the semiautonomous combat machine Alkonost.” 

The Eighty-Six weren’t considered human, so any machine they piloted would be considered not a manned one but a drone. It was the same concept…as the Republic’s Juggernaut. 

Lerche’s detached head was connected to her torso with tubes and cords that looked like blood vessels and nerves. 

“Is she…human?” 

Vika snickered wryly. 

“You ask that question after seeing what you’ve just seen, Bloody Reina? Recall what Nouzen just said. And consider…how did he so easily see her for what she is?” 

Lena swallowed nervously. Shin could hear the voices of the Legion—or rather, the voices of the war dead who remained trapped mechanical ghosts. But the girl in front of them couldn’t be a Legion, since they never fashioned weapons in human form. They were forbidden from making a weapon that looked too similar to a human being. 

In which case… 

Shin spoke, as if to not let Lena voice her conclusion. 

“It uses a dead person’s brain…or rather, a reproduction of one, as its central processor.” 

His bloodred eyes glared at Vika with an intensity Lena had never seen before. 

For Shin, who’d heard the voices of his comrades after they’d been captured by the Legion and who’d even had to gun down his own brother, who’d been trapped in that condition, the United Kingdom, which had made the girl standing before him, was guilty of unparalleled heresy. 

It carelessly walked all over the line that separated the living from the dead. Capturing the souls of those who had earned their eternal rest and using them once again for the sake of battle meant… 

It was an icy glare that would make any normal person falter, but Vika didn’t so much as wince. 

“Bull’s-eye, Reaper of the Eighty-Sixth Sector. All of these girls’ central processors are reproductions based off human brain structures.” 

They bore an odd resemblance to—or perhaps were inspired by—the intelligent Legion, the Shepherds. 

“Wait a moment… If those were originally human brains, then…” 

Lena’s voice was so stiff and sharp she had trouble recognizing it. The United Kingdom was the only despotic monarchy on the continent. The citizens were all essentially property of the nobility. 

“…where, and for what reason, did you gather the people those brains belonged to?” 

Vika tilted his head in an amused fashion. 

“Are you insinuating that we arrogant despots dismember our citizens against their wills? Then you may be disappointed to hear the Idinarohk line isn’t quite that foolish. We know well enough that all that awaits us at the end of mindless tyranny is the guillotine’s kiss… The components are all given voluntarily and are extracted only after they die in battle. Strictly speaking, it’s right before their deaths. If a soldier who voluntarily donated his body in advance is marked as black during triage—and under those conditions alone—he’s sent to have his brain scanned. Even those who volunteered aren’t sent to the scanner if there’s a chance of saving their lives, and volunteering is entirely optional.” 

In a place as dangerous as the battlefield, there were more injured soldiers in need of treatment than there were doctors to treat them. To handle such situations, a method was established to ensure as many lives were saved as possible; that was triage. It was a measure to segregate those injured who weren’t at risk of death or didn’t require treatment right away from those who required immediate resuscitation. 

Among them were black tags—those categorized as being in a condition in which they were beyond saving even if they were treated. The name came from the color of the tag attached to them. They were the ones who were found too late or the ones who were still alive but were injured to the point that they would die in a matter of moments. 

“The digitized brain structure is reproduced via artificial cells, and after their memories are erased and their pseudo-personalities are installed, they’re transplanted into the Sirins’ skulls. In other words, they may be based off the war dead, but they’re not the dead themselves. I am a bit surprised you can still hear them, Nouzen.” 

“But…why?” 

The Legion used the brains of the dead, too, but they were weapons. They didn’t have any perception of ethics and justice, of right and wrong, so it was understandable. But Vika was human…or rather, he should have been human. 

“Why? I think it’s quite obvious. Unlike the Legion, who keep coming no matter how many times you beat them back, humans are finite. Our ability to reproduce is limited. So if we can’t lower the numbers of those who’ll die, we need only recycle those who have already passed away. Send wolves to hunt wolves. Vampires to hunt vampires.” 

Ghosts to hunt down ghosts. 

It was a perversion that made chills run through Lena’s body—utter desecration. And unaware of Lena’s aversion, Vika smiled. Like a serpent. Like a heartless beast, removed from the concept of emotions. 

The King of Corpses. Devoid of sympathy and hence detached from humanity—the cold-blooded ruler of the dead. 

“A-and…you call that…a drone…?!” 

“Your words cut to the bone, but this is something you’ll have to get used to. The weapons and soldiers the United Kingdom will add to the Strike Package will be Alkonosts and Sirins. Namely, the regiment under my direct command.” 

With that said, the prince of the north smiled calmly, regarding Lena as she shivered and Shin, who glared at him harshly, as if they were rocks on the wayside. 

“Until we wipe out the Legion or until they exterminate humankind…I hope we will enjoy each other’s company.” 

In one corner of the castle of the country that held the entire northeast under its thumb sat an Imperial villa. It was being used as a lodging house, and its rooms were pleasant, luxurious, and beautiful. 

As she lay on a bed and compared the plumage inside it to the shabby ones she’d had back at the frontline bases and the internment camp in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, Shiden pondered how far they had come. While she couldn’t say this bed was uncomfortable or something she couldn’t get used to, she got the feeling sleeping on it too long would make her go blunt. In both mind and body. 

Slapping her palms over sheets that smelled of flowers or some other herbal scent, the Brísingamen squadron’s vice captain, Shana, leaned over Shiden, who lay faceup on the bed. 

“Hey, Shiden.” 

Not bothering to turn her gaze toward Shana, Shiden gave a noncommittal response. 

“Mm.” 

“Is it all right?” 

“Yeah…” 

She didn’t specify what “it” was, but they’d been together long enough for Shiden to understand even without any explicit statements. The shock was probably too much. Ever since she’d met the prince that afternoon, Lena had been crestfallen, and Shin, who had walked up to her when he saw her sunken into the lodging house’s sofa and lying still, would be by her side right about now. 

“Not much we can do. Her Majesty made her choice.” 

“But…” 

Shiden fixed her two-colored eyes on the window located right above her. 

“There’d be more to think about if the Li’l Reaper was more of a jackass. But all things considered, it’s fine, I guess.” 

She’d checked only briefly that he was all right, but that was all. It was in no way an acknowledgment. 

“…No one can tell when everything will end. Same as always, really. In which case…so long as I’m at her side, I don’t want to be a nuisance.” 

“—It is ever so dreadfully cold here… But the city flourishes! More so than one might expect of a capital in wartime, I daresay.” 

The United Kingdom’s capital of Arcs Styrie was an old city with a history as storied as that of the country itself. The townscape told of prosperity, development, and the countless disturbances and upheavals in its past, with a peculiar view of many buildings, each built at different times across multiple centuries. The trend was that the exteriors were painted in bright colors, in a manner typical of a land under the cover of snow for half of every year. 

Today, too, the Eintagsfliege’s clouds hid away the sun, and light snow flitted down from the heavens. The main thoroughfare was full of passersby, with colorful shops and stands making up the market. Wearing a Federacy coat over her Republic uniform, Lena looked around at the lively town with her eyes wide. Annette, also in a coat, as well as Grethe, Frederica, and Raiden, who’d come as their escort, looked around curiously, too. 

That day after breakfast, the chief of the technology division—a man so thin he was almost skeletal—had proposed that since they had some free time, they should go out and see the capital, pointing out that the ladies would also get a chance to shop that way. Half of the offer stemmed from consideration, and the other was meant to uplift diplomatic relations. 

And indeed, they wanted to show off the abundance and prosperity of their country to the first field officers visiting from abroad in over a decade—and in so doing also casually stress the strength of their army. 

Shiden and Shana had passed on the opportunity, while Shin had seemingly been called upon by Vika, so they’d stayed behind in the palace. The royal guards had invited Shiden’s group to take a tour of the military museum instead. 

“Amazing… I guess that’s what one might expect from the thousand-year capital of the mighty country of the north, Roa Gracia…” 

“I think we needed a break, so that officer’s offer came at just the right time. That technology really is a bit hard to swallow.” 

“I’m glad both of our sides had something to teach the other about the Para-RAID, but… Even if they say they used willing volunteers, it’s one record of human experimentation after another… It’s a little, kind of, really… You know…” 

Exchanging bitter smiles, Grethe and Annette discussed the Sirins and their related technologies. Hearing that this technology couldn’t quite be adopted by the Federacy made Grethe cradle her head despondently. 

Some of the structures making up the glamorous town were barracks, armories, and other military installations used by the capital defense division headquarters, and many of the people walking about were clad in the United Kingdom military’s purple-and-black uniform. Just like in the Federacy, soldiers were seen as subjects deserving respect. A young Beryl female soldier walking nearby was greeted with a polite nod by an older, violet-haired Iola man. 

Looking around, Annette said, “Viola are the citizens, and the other ethnic groups from conquered territories are serfs, right? But all things considered, serfs get to live normally.” 

Pureblood Viola children—that is to say, citizens—were playing about with a ball, but serf children from other ethnicities were playing by their side as if there was no difference between them. A pair of people of different colors were sitting at the same table in a café, chatting over coffee. An old Celesta lady running a stall was currently ardently arguing over the price of a large jar of honey with a Taaffe woman. The negotiations concluded with a tight shake of hands, after which the two exchanged a bill for the merchandise and parted with smiles. “I’ll come again” and “You’re always welcome,” the two said with pleased expressions. 

Overall, the serfs were the working class, and the citizens were the middle class, and as such, there was a difference in the quality of their clothing and personal belongings, but the serfs weren’t considered slaves or untouchables—there was no indication that some children were treated as a lesser race, like the Eighty-Six once were. 

The palace guard assigned to Lena’s group as their guide and interpreter smiled. The United Kingdom’s official language was different only in dialect from the Republic’s and the Federacy’s, but since some of the serfs were descended from conquered territories that had different cultural spheres, a number of them spoke in entirely different languages. 

“The citizens are expected to give military service, while the serfs are expected to handle production,” explained the guard. “In a way, it’s a difference between conscription and tax liability. But with the situation the way it is right now, the royalty is encouraging the serfs to voluntarily join the military. 

“Like him,” he said, gesturing toward a sentinel. He was a reserved Rubis man who looked about twenty years old, wore a brand-new second lieutenant rank insignia, and smiled at them with sheepish pride. All this meant was that higher education was open to all, at least those with the means to afford it. 

As Vika had said, the United Kingdom may have been a despotic monarchy, but it didn’t put any political pressure on its citizens. It did nothing that would stir up unrest or insurrection, nor did it create unnecessary class differences. Unlike the Republic, which, after taking everything away from the Eighty-Six by confiscating their assets to fund the construction of the Gran Mur and forcing them into conscription, had marked them as subhumans. 

“…Milizé? What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing.” 

Shaking her head vaguely, Lena then said doubtfully: 

“By the way…I wonder what business Vika had with Shin?” 

Shin was told to come with his coat on, and rightly so, as the underground staircase Vika led him down was extremely cold. 

“The northernmost mountains in the United Kingdom are the Frost Woe mountain range. There’s an ice grotto there extending all the way to the Kingdom’s underground, where the royal mausoleum was built. The ice here never melts, so it’s frigid even in the summer… It’s a huge mess if one of the servants’ children sneaks in here carelessly.” 

The staircase itself, which seemed to be carved out of glacial stone, drew a gentle spiral as it descended deep underground. The place was inlaid with great-green-turban shells shining in the seven prismatic colors. 

The Federacy military’s issued trench coat was made for fighting in the frozen trenches of the Federacy’s snowy north and was both waterproof and protective against the cold. Still, Shin furrowed his brow as the cold stabbed into his lungs with each breath he took. Vika, who was walking ahead, was breathing out equally visible puffs of air. 

“…In olden times, those of noble birth were naturally royalty. Kings were seen as living gods given flesh, gifted with unique powers. A Pyrope’s telepathy and psychometry, an Onyx’s martial prowess, a Celena’s intimidation. Many of those lessened and faded with the mixing of blood and the passage of time, but they still somewhat remained in lands where royalty and nobility retained their authority and bloodline. That applied for the Empire of Giad and the United Kingdom, as well. Among those was the Amethysta’s augmented intellect—put simply, bloodlines that produce extraordinary geniuses.” 

Only one pair of footsteps was audible; Shin made no sound as he walked, and there was no one around but him and Vika. Being a commander, if Vika had business with anyone, it would be Lena, but he’d called Shin alone. Shin, a single Processor who would usually be seen as nothing more than a pawn. 

Vika’s intent here was unclear. With his voice thick with the strong aversion he’d felt upon seeing the Sirin, Shin asked a question with a terribly curt voice. He couldn’t be bothered to pay respects to one of higher authority to begin with. 

“…Why are you telling me this?” 

“Hmm? Because you are a Pyrope Esper, of course. Your bloodline on your mother’s side, the Maikas, died out during the persecution of the other Eighty-Six… I thought you would be interested in learning a bit about it. Was I wrong?” 

“I don’t care for it.” 

“Hmm?” 

Vika turned to face him with a somewhat dubious expression but eventually turned around again and shrugged. 

“Well, regardless of whether you’re interested, this is sadly a necessary preface to my main topic here. Bear with me patiently, even if you find it boring.” 

Vika descended from the last stair in the long staircase, the sound of his military boots resonating heavily. At the end of the aged passageway was a sudden shift into a new, state-of-the-art metallic door, which recognized something Vika was carrying and opened automatically. Frigid air, even compared to the chilly staircase, poured out silently from the doorway, but Vika paid the cold no mind as he crossed the threshold. 

“The royal family is the last Amethysta bloodline to carry Esper abilities, and we are at the same time guardians of much knowledge and wisdom that would otherwise be lost to the ages.” 

Light illuminated the unknowable darkness, radiantly shining and twinkling over all. The place was a huge dome that seemed to be fashioned entirely out of ice, filled with transparent blue as far as the eye could see. The ice was so thick the rock face behind wasn’t visible through it. An endlessly transparent, bottomless blue. 

Countless icicles extended down from the dome’s ceiling, which felt like some kind of pagan chapel, and a path of ice extended farther in from the spacious area they were in. Almost annoyingly, even here the ice was inlaid with malachite and amethyst in the shape of a peacock’s feathers, which twinkled from the surface of the icy walls. 

But what caught Shin’s attention straight ahead was no collaboration between the natural and the artificial. Running along the dome’s icy walls and on both sides of the passageway, like formations of crystals, were countless… 

…coffins made of ice. 

The coffins were egg-shaped and crafted out of silver and glass. Each of them contained a figure clad in a purple-and-black uniform or dress. Most of them were adults, but some coffins contained children or infants. Others contained what looked to be only pieces of bodies wrapped in bindings or some personal effect buried in their place. The interior was filled with highly transparent ice, and the emblem of a unicorn carved into the glass’s surface using a laser was entwined with a thin layer of frost. 

Standing among the coffins, Vika turned around, the hem of his white coat spilling forward. 

“And as a symbol of that legacy, our remains are preserved. All those descended from the Idinarohk line are enshrined in this frozen mausoleum. The earlier generations are already more or less mummified by now, of course… Now, then.” 

He gestured toward a coffin standing right behind him. The one next to it was still empty. Within that casket was a woman spreading out her hands as if floating on water with her eyes gently closed. 

“This is Mariana Idinarohk—my mother.” 

The remains of the woman sealed within the coffin closely resembled Vika, who stood right in front of her. Had it not been for the differences of age and sex, they’d have been spitting images of each other. She seemed to be in her late twenties or her thirties and was dressed in a magnificent violet dress, the color of the United Kingdom’s royalty, and on her forehead was a silver tiara set with cut gemstones. 

But it was then that Shin felt something wrong. The delicate silver tiara set on Queen Mariana’s remains. Of all the deceased lined up here, she was the only one to wear a crown. And even Shin, his knowledge of adornments being as meager as it was, could tell its position was off. A tiara wasn’t worn right above the eyes, after all. 

And right below the silvery gleam of the tiara, a straight red line was cut into her white forehead. Unlike the living, a wound inflicted on a corpse never healed—a part that was cut open never truly closed. 

Vika smiled faintly. 

“So you’ve noticed… That’s right. My mother’s corpse is missing its brain. Because I extracted it. Thirteen years ago.” 

There was no way Shin wouldn’t realize upon being told that. The Legion had been developed twelve years ago. And also… 

Mariana. 

“The Mariana Model…” 

“Yes. The artificial intelligence that was the basis of the Legion, the blight of humankind. The component that composed it…was my mother.” 

Or rather, her brain. 

So this was how, Shin thought bitterly. This was how the Legion had come up with the absurd idea of assimilating humans’ neural networks to replace their central processors. If they were originally based on a human brain, in an attempt to reproduce one, then they were simply functioning as designed, in accordance with the hypothesis. 

But one question remained. 

“…Why?” 

That one question was overflowing with doubts. Why make such a thing? Why go so far as desecrating your own mother’s remains? Why use your mother—even if only her corpse—as a guinea pig? 

But Vika simply shrugged plainly. 

“I wanted to meet her.” 

Despite them being the same age, and contrary to his graceful appearance, he spoke with the tone of a small child. 

“Mother passed away soon after giving birth to me… I was a difficult delivery, and she lost too much blood—something that can happen during any childbirth, and as far as Father investigated, there was no foul play involved. And yet…” 

Breaking off, Vika looked up at his mother in her casket. Those white hands, which may have never even held him. 

“…I never knew my mother’s voice.” 

The words spilling from his lips were filled with a longing for something he’d never had—and so they resonated with terrible loneliness. 

“Even the Idinarohks’ Espers can’t remember what happened right as they were born. I’ve spoken to Father, Brother Zafar, and my wet nurse, asking them to tell me all they could remember of her. But it couldn’t fill the void.” 

“…” 

“—But if that’s the case…” 

His thin lips then suddenly contorted upward in a lurid, vicious smile. Vika grinned, his Imperial violet eyes shining with reminiscence. Like a monster. Like a demon. Somehow Shin knew that thirteen years ago, a Vika so young Shin couldn’t imagine him had had the same smile on his lips. 

That all-too-innocent smile. 

“If I don’t know her—if I lost her—I need only bring her back. That’s what I thought… Because her remains—her brain, with all her memories and personality intact—were preserved right here…!” 

Fanatical delusion, completely absent of all restraint. He would defile a person’s remains, seal their memories and personality in a machine, and in so doing, transcend death… His eyes were absent of all guilt or dread at the prospect of having committed such a taboo. There was no distinction between good and evil. Nothing but the utter coldheartedness…which saw satisfying his desire as the one and only absolute. 

A cold shiver the likes of which he’d never known before ran through Shin. He was unable to see his own expression but was well aware of how severe and tense it was. The thing standing before him wasn’t a human, but a genuine, innocent monster that knew neither humanity nor reason. 

Swallowing his emotions, he asked: 

“…And then?” 

Vika shrugged casually. 

“I failed.” 

The dead can never again truly walk among the living. Even Vika couldn’t overturn that law. 

“Mother’s brain was lost for naught, and I was faulted for desecrating the queen’s remains and stripped of my succession rights. Which was fine; I never wanted those to begin with, but…at the time, I hadn’t given up on my mother yet.” 

He’d thought perhaps his mistake lay in being too young. Maybe his knowledge was lacking, or perhaps there was a hole in his theory—he’d failed because he’d gotten something wrong. That was how Vika still saw the world at the time. That if one were to employ the right method, the desired result would always occur. He innocently believed that the world worked in such a neat, satisfying way. 

He believed that things would always go well. 

“So I uploaded all my data to the public network.” 

At the time, he didn’t imagine that it would be an act that would rattle the military balance of the surrounding countries. He may have been the youngest child, but he was still the prince of a large kingdom. His name was well-known even though he was only five years of age. His writings had neither the appearance nor the linguistic composition of something worthy of being called a thesis, and given the absurd topic of resurrecting the dead, most researchers didn’t even spare them a single glance. However… 

“That’s when you met Major Zelene Birkenbaum.” 

“Yes. A few curious, whimsical people contacted me from different countries, and she was one of them.” 

One of the few who, despite the writer’s age and childish writing style, recognized the potential of this new artificial intelligence model was Zelene. At the time, she was researching autonomous weapons in the Imperial military laboratory. 

“I knew what Zelene was researching and what she was thinking when she developed those autonomous weapons—the Legion. But…” 

He didn’t think she would end up turning that weapon against him. That the Empire would bare its fangs at all other countries. He never realized the consequence the actions he made to fulfill his dream would result in— 

“…by the time the Empire declared war, Zelene had already passed away… Albeit indirectly, I’m the one who stole your homeland and family away. Do you loathe me for it?” 

He spread out his arms. From the fluttering of his clothes, it was apparent that he didn’t carry any firearms. He was completely defenseless, without a single escort or bodyguard to defend him. That was probably his idea of good faith. After all, Vika never told Shin not to bring any firearms when he called him over. And Shin still carried his handgun on him, just as he had grown used to from years in the Republic. 

But Shin answered, with his mind fixed on the familiar weight he was carrying: 

“…No.” 

He had never thought of the Republic as his homeland, and he hardly remembered his family or anything else from that bygone era. If Vika said those had been stolen from him, he was likely correct, but for Shin…those no longer counted as things he had lost. It was the same as if they’d never existed to begin with, and if so, there was nothing to resent… Nothing to loathe. 

“I don’t think they’ve been stolen from me… And even if they were, you had nothing to do with it.” 

“…Once again, you speak indifferently, as if you never needed those things in the first place. Even though you had a mother, unlike me.” 

Vika shook his head with a bitter smile. His violet eyes clouded over with envy and jealousy for a moment, before those feelings were washed away in a split second. 

“Now, then. While you seem quite disinterested overall, this concludes my confession. On to the main topic, the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s headless Reaper.” 

How could one describe Vika’s expression at that moment? It was both a look of entreaty and one of terror. As if he desired judgment and wished for hope. As if he desired both an affirming answer and words of denial and, while fearing them the whole time, couldn’t help but ask: 

“Is my mother…still here…?” 

He wished to hear of his mother’s eternal peace but at the same time wished to see her again. 

So this is what he called me for, Shin thought in an oddly hollow mood. His ability to hear the cries of the deceased who lingered after death. With that, he’d be able to tell whether Vika’s mother was still here or whether she’d gained the peace of death. Perhaps he would try again to resurrect her. 

He’d attempt it or resign himself to give up…because he would know whether she was present. 

Was that really something to be so fixated on? The thought crossed Shin’s mind faintly. Shin couldn’t remember his mother’s face, but he didn’t feel any lingering regrets over that fact. And still, Vika wished so deeply for a mother whose voice he’d never known, who’d never held him. 

Standing eye to eye with Vika, Shin shook his head. 

“No.” 

His brother, Kaie, and the many Eighty-Six who’d died were trapped on the battlefield, with the Legion using their brain structures as central processors. Despite the fact that they’d died and should have gone back to where they belonged, they remained trapped. 

There weren’t lingering thoughts or attachments, and they certainly didn’t have any affection to them. Emotions couldn’t overturn the rules of nature. The world…simply wasn’t kind enough to leave that much behind. It wasn’t kind to anyone, be they living or dead. 

Kiriya’s wish to avenge Frederica had burned down with the Morpho’s destruction. And his brother—the brother who’d waited for him for so long—had disappeared once he’d lost the Dinosauria that had served as his container. 

Gone. They weren’t anywhere anymore. 

“Your mother’s remains are only a corpse. I can’t hear any voice coming from it… Your mother isn’t in there anymore.” 

“What about Lerche, then?” 

Shin furrowed his brow, as the next question surprised him. 

“What about the Sirins? You could hear the voices coming from them, right? Lerche is… They’re inside those bodies. So do the souls inside those girls…long to pass on?” 

“………Yes.” 

Shin nodded, wondering all the while why Vika cared so much if they were only parts of a drone to him. But Shin could hear it from them. It wasn’t a scream nor a wail of anguish, but he could hear the lament in those voices. The voice of a girl he’d never met before and of countless unfamiliar soldiers. 

“They keep crying…saying they want to pass on.” 

Vika gave a faint, light, but bitter smile. A self-deprecating grin. 

“…I see.” 

Looking back at Vika, Shin parted his lips to speak. As always, he couldn’t understand or relate to the person before him. 

“Can I ask you something, too?” 

Vika blinked once in what seemed like surprise. 

“…Yes. If it’s anything I can answer.” 

“Do you really want to meet your mother this much, when you’ve never even heard her voice?” 

He’d understood this man felt no aversion to cutting open her remains. But still, it was a person’s body, with the mass and weight of an adult woman. And the human skull was hard. And yet the then-five-year-old Vika still had to carry it away and cut it open. Had he really gone that far for no other reason than his desire to see her again? For someone whose voice he’d never known, someone he’d never met, someone who was his mother in name only? 

Vika seemed dumbstruck for a moment. 

“Well… Yes. Though they have different ways of expressing it, children love their parents. Especially so if they cannot meet them… Allow me to ask you in turn, but do you…” 

Breaking off, Vika squinted. 

“…not wish to meet your parents?” 

“There’s no meeting the dead again.” 

That was the irreversible cosmic law Shin—the one with the extrasensory ability to hear the voices of the dead—knew. He could hear their voices, but they were nothing more than the screams of one’s final death throes. There could be no dialogue, no communication, no understanding established… No matter how much both sides may wish for it. 

The dead can never mingle with the living. 

“I see. Hence, you don’t desire to remember them.” 

It was Shin’s turn to narrow his eyes in scrutiny. Those words again. 

It’s not that you can’t remember your childhood. 

You don’t want to remember it. 

“…What makes you say that?” 

“You have no interest in your late mother’s genealogy. Despite the things that’ve been taken from you, you hold no resentment. But more than anything, the expression on your face tells of how you don’t wish to have that topic touched on—how you loathe to touch on it yourself. As if you suffer from a wound you don’t wish to even acknowledge is there.” 

“………” 

A wound. 

Vika smiled, as if he’d seen through Shin. He unleashed his words cruelly, with a coldness that was almost merciful. 

“But if that’s something you’re fine with, it’s not my place as a stranger to comment on it… Taken to an extreme, a child’s tendency to follow his parents is just another way of life. But if you deem it acceptable to forget even that…sure enough, you will see your parents again.”