86 - Volume 8 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 

THE GUN IN THE HIGH CASTLE 

It’s said there’s no training like live combat experience. And while there’s some truth to that, a unit that engages exclusively in live combat will find its performance lacking in the long run. A soldier can’t exhibit their full skills on the battlefield without practice. Proper education and training are imperative for success, be it in individual skill or unit tactics. 

And so the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package found itself on the Rüstkammer base’s training grounds. These maneuvering grounds were built in an accurate representation of the Federacy’s western front; they were a mixture of woodlands and urban areas. The woodlands were a sectioned-off part of an existing forest. The urban areas were built over a deforested area and modeled after an old Imperial military stronghold town. 

In one section of these maneuvering grounds was a newly built metal scaffolding of a building, which was to be the next battlefield of the Strike Package’s 1st Armored Division. The metal beams were just wide enough to support a Juggernaut’s size and weight. They were set up in orderly, geometric patterns. 

Two polypedal armored weapons sprinted across this mesh of vertical and horizontal beams. Their Personal Marks were that of a headless skeleton shouldering a shovel and two intersected muskets—Shin’s Undertaker and Olivia’s Anna Maria. Olivia had been deployed to the Strike Package as a training instructor from the Alliance of Wald. 

Both units competed for advantageous positions and knocked each other off their footing whenever one got the upper hand. It was a dizzyingly rapid battle, with each of them pushing every element of their units—which had been developed for high-mobility combat—to the limits of their performance. 

It was a mock one-on-one battle, with Olivia assuming the position of a hypothetical opponent. Feldreß cockpits typically stressed survivability over comfort, making them quite cramped. But with the Stollenwurm, this trait was especially stark. The personal exoskeleton took up a great deal of what little space was inside. The cockpit had no room for optical screens, and so it projected optical information directly into the pilot’s retinas. 

However, Olivia was pursuing Undertaker not using his physical eyesight but rather through his future sight. 

Future sight. Without a royal house to unify its mountainous territory and with the nobles of the small territories that made up its turf failing to preserve the purity of their bloodline, only a single clan in the Alliance of Wald retained this extrasensory power. 

In Olivia’s case, he could only see three seconds into his personal, immediate future. The scope of his power depended on the phenomena in his future, but it could extend as far as several dozen meters. He could only foresee the future when he actively used his power—his clan described it as opening one’s eyes—and his ability would not activate on its own when he was under threat. 

This wasn’t something Olivia could share outside his clan, but the truth of the matter was that this extrasensory power wasn’t as helpful as one might expect. Using it continually greatly exhausted him, and he couldn’t “keep his eyes open” all the time during operations. 

Still, be it against a human or a Legion, Olivia rarely suffered a loss. Or at least, so he thought. Three seconds of foresight… Knowing what the enemy unit would do in three seconds was an incredible tactical advantage. 

But Shin was able to compensate for it with the unconscious foresight afforded him by his vast combat experience and his superhuman reaction speed. It was as if he could smell blood before it was shed. He had an inexplicable sense of intuition, like a sixth sense at work. 

A slash descended on Olivia. Since this was a training session, the high-frequency blade was set not to vibrate, but if this were true combat, Olivia wouldn’t have been able to lock blades with it. Since it wasn’t, he deflected it with a horizontal blow from his inactive high-frequency lance. He couldn’t afford to “close his eyes.” Without constantly looking into the future, he was no match for Shin. 

Using the momentum of his deflected attack, Shin changed the trajectory of his blade to a diagonal slash. Seeing Anna Maria’s intention to jump away, he forced his unit to take an extra step with his front right leg, extending the range of his attack. 

Olivia canceled his backward jump, which was a bluff, and dodged sideways to avoid the attack. Using its legs as an axis, Undertaker rotated, extending the length of its horizontal slash. These were all intense movements that made even the Reginleif, which was built for high-mobility maneuvering, screech in protest. Shin’s skills allowed for such transcendent movements, though. 

However… 

They clashed dozens of times, standing close enough to feel each other’s breath. After spending so long in a state of heightened concentration that grinded one’s perception of time, Undertaker was the first to stop. It was a single, brief moment, spent on filling one’s lungs with fresh air. 

That was the opening Olivia had been waiting for. 

Anna Maria charged forward, ramming Undertaker at close range. Both units were thrown between the beams of the scaffolding, plummeting downward. Shin was at the young age of eighteen; he was still an adolescent, though he was nearing the end of his teenage years. His body was not yet fully mature. In terms of physical strength and stamina, an adult man like Olivia had the edge on him. 

The two rigs fell one story, their limbs entangled. They dropped to the ground like two animals biting into each other. Since Olivia played the role of a hypothetical enemy, he wasn’t connected to Shin through radio or Para-RAID. But as the impact of the blow knocked all the air out of its pilot’s lungs, Undertaker seemed to stiffen in pain. 

But it soon swung its long legs as if to strike its opponent, prompting Anna Maria to dodge by jumping away. A Reginleif’s legs were equipped with pile drivers as a fixed armament. Olivia estimated that a direct hit from those into the cockpit would likely knock his unit out of commission. 

Undertaker hopped away, using its four legs to jump back. Shin probably wanted to create distance between himself and Olivia while the damage from the crash still affected his unit, preferring to fight from afar with his 88 mm cannon. However… 

“—I won’t let you do that.” 

Shin’s movements were slow. The damage was still affecting him, after all. Undertaker’s jump was sluggish, lacking Shin’s prior skill and intensity, and Olivia easily caught it in his sights. 

Trigger. 

Anna Maria’s 105 mm cannon roared like a beast as it unleashed an invisible laser. Since this wasn’t live training, the cannon shot a laser meant for aerial and artillery tracing, but the discharge fire and the sound of the cannon were made to simulate real cannon fire. The discharge fire covered Anna Maria’s field, and the rumbling roar of the cannon drowned out the sound of the enemy unit’s engine. 

Olivia turned his attention to the radar screen, only to find that Undertaker’s blip was still there. Apparently, the shot only hit a leg… 

Olivia “opened his eyes,” confirming Undertaker’s position three seconds into the future and aiming Anna Maria’s cannon at where it stood. The flames disappeared, and once he returned his gaze to the present, the white shadow of the enemy unit was in the center of his sights. 

Undertaker’s front right leg was damaged and immobile. Even with some of its mobility lost, it kept its 88 mm cannon fixed on Anna Maria…and the unit’s canopy hung open. Shin wasn’t inside… 

…He had escaped. 

Olivia looked around, finding him hidden behind a stone structure that was already crumbling from months of training sessions. He had one knee on the ground, with an assault rifle fixed on Anna Maria. Its barrel was dyed blue—an identifier for an empty gun used in training maneuvers. 

Since Olivia was playing the role of a hypothetical opponent in this scenario, he was essentially playing the role of a Legion. And since the Legion didn’t take prisoners, Shin had discarded his damaged unit but made the correct call of not relinquishing the will to fight. 

Still, since this was training, there was no need to continue combat after this. Or rather, fighting any longer would just result in needless injury. Olivia “closed his eyes” and prepared to declare the situation resolved. 

But before he could, Shin fired. 

Of course, his gun was empty, and an assault rifle was ineffective against most Legion types. The sensors on Anna Maria’s frontal armor detected the tracing laser impacting the unit but judged that it did no damage. 

But the next second, an alarm informed him that his unit was being aimed at…by Undertaker?! 

“What…?!” 

Olivia’s precognition was deactivated, so he could no longer see the future. This development caught him entirely by surprise. Even with its cockpit empty, Undertaker’s 88 mm tank turret emitted its ballistic recognition laser. Anna Maria’s flank armor sensors detected an 88 mm APFSDS (Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot) shell “impact” them. 

For the first time in his duels with Shin, a notification informing Olivia that his unit had taken crippling damage filled the image projected into Olivia’s retinas. 

“That was a little… No, that was very unfair of you, but…” 

This maneuvering ground had been set up hurriedly for the next mission, so it wasn’t very large. They vacated the grounds for the next unit set to use it and moved to a tent for the debriefing. As they entered the tent, Olivia had spoken thus to Shin. 

“I finally found a way to outwit your ability, Captain,” Shin said. 

“You’d have died if this were real combat.” Olivia shook his head, gazing at Shin. “You knew I’d stop even though you were still alive because this was training…” 

Shin left a serene, detached impression, which very much contrasted his boyish, unyielding spirit. 

“You really are a sore loser, aren’t you? Are you still holding a grudge over what happened in our first training session in the Alliance?” Olivia asked. 

“You weren’t serious back then, Captain. You were in a field uniform instead of your armored flight suit… I’ll admit that didn’t sit well with me.” 

“Oh… Well, at the time, Grandma showed up out of nowhere and told me to go duel with the Federacy’s Feldreß.” 

Said grandmother was Lieutenant General Bel Aegis, the army commander for the Alliance of Wald’s northern defense. 

“Well, since you’ve gotten your payback on me, how do you feel about revealing your trick?” Olivia continued. “Of course, things are different if you’re going to say you won’t reveal it until you lose to me and die.” 

Shin shrugged with a forced smile. 

“Unfortunately, that’s… It’s one of the main battery’s firing modes. It uses a prerecorded external sound as its trigger to shoot. Seeing as how that registered sound is the sound of a pistol and machine-gun fire, I’d say it’s planned around a situation where the pilot’s forced to abandon their rig and rely on their basic firearm.” 

“The Federacy’s Feldreß is equipped with those kinds of features? No…” 

Olivia trailed off and then shook his head. That external-sound firing mode setting was likely added because… 

“It’s probably just the Reginleif. That setting’s useless in normal combat.” 

Feldreß combat was a deafening affair. It involved the roar of cannon fire, high explosives, the power pack’s howls, and the sound of the armored infantry’s heavy-machine-gun fire and screams. The noise of machine-gun fire was thundering compared with a human’s voice, but in that kind of battlefield, it would easily be drowned out. 

Even in a training session like this one, that feature wouldn’t see much use unless very particular conditions were met. 

“It was added because I found myself in a similar situation once…but I’ve never actually used that feature before. Not in training nor in live combat.” 

“I’d imagine you didn’t. And still, you brought such a hard-to-use feature to the forefront, just to get the better of me. You’re one sore loser, you know that?” 

“I assumed that your ability doesn’t work unless you actively try to see the future, so I tried to take advantage of that.” 

Olivia’s smile suddenly disappeared. The fact that he couldn’t see the future unless he actively tried to do so was something he told no one outside his clan. This applied to Shin and the other Eighty-Six as well, even if they were his comrades in the same unit. 

“…What made you think that’s the case?” 

“No one got the better of you during training, me included. But during our off times, you jumped when TP pounced at you, and you almost bumped into Frederica in the hallway once… That made me think that you don’t always see the future, not even before you run into trouble.” 

Olivia raised his hands wordlessly. 

“Not much to say, but…touché. Still…” He then smirked. “If only you could exhibit that boldness and observation when it comes to Colonel Milizé.” 

Shin stiffened with a start. 

“…I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” 

“Oh, can I be clear, then?” Olivia said, his smile widening. “That night, you seemed quite depressed.” 

Shin swallowed nervously at his insistent hounding of the subject. That night. Shin had confessed his feelings to Lena, who kissed him in response and then, for whatever reason, ran off. He was incredibly confused at the time, and the depression came later. 

He’d thought Lena felt the same way. How else could he have explained the kiss? But he had no guarantee that this wasn’t just his own wishful thinking at play, and if she did feel similarly, then why did she run away? But if she didn’t feel the same way, why would she kiss him…? 

And so, his mind went in circles, and he’d remained crestfallen for the remainder of the evening. Everyone noticed the dip in his mood, of course. Raiden, Theo, Vika, Dustin, Marcel…and of course, Olivia. To be exact, they all took him to the bar that was set up in the hotel’s grounds and tried to help him recover from his shock. 

Incidentally, after fleeing, Lena ran to Annette in tears. Annette, exasperated, eventually left her at the bar. The other girls saw her as well—Anju, Kurena, Shiden, Grethe, and even the chief of staff. Rito and Frederica were too young to enter the bar, so they were Resonated with everyone else as they sarcastically criticized Lena. 

In other words, all their acquaintances knew. 

The following day, both of them had calmed down somewhat. Shin had realized that Lena ran because she was confused by his sudden words, and he decided he’d wait for her response. 

Except…while he understood that Lena was busy with her duties as tactical commander now that their leave had ended…he might possibly, potentially, maybe have been upset over the fact that a month had passed, and she’d kept the whole affair up in the air. 

Is now the right time for me to start sulking about that …? 

Looking at Shin, who wasn’t aware of the fact that he already very much was sulking, Olivia cracked a forced smile. 

“I still need to handle training for the 2nd Armored Division, so I won’t be able to join you on your next dispatch. But for the love of God, do something about this by the time you come back.” 

“If I may, Captain? Shut up,” Shin spat out, his eyes narrowed. 

“Well, forgive me for that, Captain Nouzen,” Olivia said, flashing him a composed grin. 

A mock battle between Feldreß was performed on the maneuvering grounds. The loud screeching of the power packs, the clanging of metallic legs digging into the soil, and the thundering roar of 88 mm turrets filled the premises. 

It was the perfect place for a conversation one didn’t want others to listen in on. 

Leaving Shin, who would draw attention to himself for better and for worse, in the tent, Raiden and the other three gathered elsewhere. 

“…The war might end,” Anju said, holding a bottle of drinking water to her lips. 

“Honestly, I never believed the day we’d say that would ever come,” Raiden said. 

The end of the Legion War. If they got the information they needed and discovered the existence of the hidden headquarters, it might just happen. And with that fact presented before him, Raiden was overcome with a dizzying, preposterous sort of feeling. 

The war had been there since he’d been an infant. It was as constant a part of his life as the air he breathed and the sun that shone down on him. And it might just…end? 

“What are we going to do if it’s over?” Anju wondered with a hint of cheerfulness to her voice. “What do you think is going to happen to us?” 

“Mm. Who knows, really?” Theo cocked his head in confusion. “I can’t really imagine it. But hey, good for Shin, right? He said he wanted to show Lena the sea, and now it’s going to happen.” 

“I want to show you the sea.” Kurena closed her eyes with a gentle smile as she recited the words as if they were the verse of a solemn poem. “Yeah. I hope it happens.” 

A month ago at the bar, Raiden had heard Shin let slip that he’d told Lena that beneath the fireworks. He’d relayed this to Kurena, Theo, and Anju. 

“…Yeah.” 

Lena ended up screwing things up at the end there, but, well…Shin would be all right now. Except… 

“I hate this just as much as Shin does,” Raiden said. “I don’t want to use Frederica if we don’t have to.” 

Having her shoulder the fate of the Federacy…the fate of humanity. Clinging to a convenient miracle that popped out of the ether like that… How could they say they fought to the bitter end if this was how they choose to end the war? 

Still, forgoing the shutdown sequence and trying to wipe out the Legion with brute force wasn’t the right idea, either. That would just result in countless avoidable deaths. 

“Right. We can’t let Frederica do this alone…,” Kurena whispered. “But that doesn’t mean I want any more crazy rushes through enemy lines, where we just barely manage to take out the enemy base. I’ve had enough of walking on tightropes. Screw dying like that. But…will this really end the war?” 

A miracle just falling in their laps… Her tone sounded doubtful. What if it was all one big trick? 

“Maybe we won’t find that hidden headquarters. Maybe the Legion won’t listen to Frederica’s orders. Maybe this is all a trap that Zelene woman cooked up to…er, fool Shin. So I guess what I’m saying is, who knows if this’ll really go well…?” 

Raiden furrowed his brow. Kurena had just mentioned all their doubts. But still, Shin, Ernst, and the Federacy’s higher-ups must have considered that, too. But the way Kurena just said that… 

Theo parted his lips, smiling wryly as if to say they didn’t have a choice. 

“Kurena… It almost sounds like you don’t want the war to end.” 

Kurena refused to meet his gaze, looking as helpless as a lost child. 

“…That’s not it.” 

Having returned after a month in a training center that was closer to Sankt Jeder than the Rüstkammer base, Lena passed through the entrance gate with her old-fashioned trunk in hand. 

While Shin and the Strike Package’s 1st Armored Division were undergoing their training period over the last month, Lena had been put through the Federacy’s curriculum as their tactical commander. Returning to her home base felt very much like returning home, but it was still a base belonging to a special, highly confidential unit. 

She presented her ID at the gate, which swung open. She entrusted Fido, which was apparently there as a porter, with her luggage and started looking around fearfully. 

It had been a month since the night of the ball in the Alliance…when Shin confessed to her under the fireworks…and she still hadn’t given Shin her answer. Despite all that time, she’d still been too afraid to say it. 

She’d spent the entire way back from the Alliance effectively running away from him, unable to bring herself to face him. Had it been just that, that would have been acceptable. But the fact that she’d up and left for the commander’s curriculum almost as soon as she returned to the base? That probably was pretty bad. 

Due to a failure in communications, Lena had learned—far too late—that she was to go through the curriculum, which was set to start the morning two days after her return. She had little time to speak with Shin, and the training center was too far from the base for her to commute back to Rüstkammer. 

Because of that, she’d left her reply up in the air for over a month. Even she had to admit no excuse in the world could defend her in this situation. 

She heard footsteps on the lawn—or rather, the undergrowth of the deforested woods—approach her and then stop. 

“Welcome back, Lena.” 

“It’s good to see ya, Your Majesty.” 

“Hello, Annette. Shiden… Er.” 

Annette showed up dressed in a lab coat, and Shiden was dressed in her flight suit, as if she’d just left training. Lena looked around nervously… It was just the two of them. Shin wasn’t there. 

Even though she’d just checked to see if he wasn’t there… Even though part of her was relieved that she didn’t have to see him…the fact that he didn’t come see her still left her anxious. 

“What’s Shin doing right now…?” 

“I don’t caaaare,” Annette said, turning her head from Lena brazenly. 

“Annette…?!” 

“After all those preparations. After running away from it like a chicken for so long, Shin finally confessed to you. And you didn’t answer him. You ran away and hid. So I. Don’t. Care.” Annette punctuated her words, pouting like a child. 

“Look, I really am sorry about that. So please don’t say that…!” 

Annette wouldn’t listen, though, so Lena turned to Shiden for help. 

“Shiden…!” 

“See, I told ya back then. Ya should have snuck into Li’l Reaper’s room that night and pounced on him. Or you could have done it once you got back to the base. Actually, it would have been easier here. Shin’s got a room all to himself.” 

“I—I can’t do that…!” 

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too impulsive? ” Annette chimed in. “I mean, the hotel was one thing, but the walls are thin here. The other Processors next door wouldn’t be able to sleep.” 

“The walls were even thinner in the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s barracks anyway. No one’s going to care about it now.” 

“Oh… So it’s like that.” Annette dropped her shoulders wearily. 

She then asked a follow-up question, as if realizing something. No one’s going to care about it now? 

“Does that mean…?” 

“Mm?” 

“…Never mind.” 

If she actually heard the truth, she might become too occupied with the noise on the lower floors. 

“S-so should I go to his room…?” Lena asked, her expression tormented. 

“…If you have the guts to do that, you may as well just answer his confession.” 

“And if yer gonna say it, ya should hurry. Li’l Reaper’s busy between greeting new staff and his regular meetings with Zelene. He’s been going to the integrated headquarters a lot recently. Something about the army’s top brass working with him to control his ability… Speaking of, you wanna come with? The transport’s pretty loud, but you could answer him there.” 

“W-well, I’m, uh…I’m not quite ready for it yet…” 

Annette and Shiden gave exasperated sighs. Fido, standing nearby, made a beeping sound that was probably its attempt at being comforting or encouraging. 

Once, thoughts of racial superiority ran rampant, leading to the Eighty-Six being shut up in internment camps. But even within the Republic, where such discrimination was positively affirmed, there were people who refused to conform to those mistaken ideals. 

Some sheltered the Colorata in their homes. Some stayed behind in the Eighty-Six Sector. Indeed, there were Alba who tried to save any Eighty-Six they could. Most of these Eighty-Six were betrayed to the authorities or died in the war, with the majority of them meeting their end in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. Add to this the fact that the majority of the Republic’s citizens were butchered in the large-scale offensive. 

A reunion between the Eighty-Six and the few Alba who had tried to shelter them should have been rare. And yet… 

“Raiden…! Ooh, I’m so glad to see you’re alive…!” 

“Hey, Nan,” Raiden greeted the old woman. “Good to see you’re still kicking.” 

The entrance hall of the headquarters of the Federacy’s western front had a needlessly grave internal design. Seeing the old woman clinging to him in tears with this place as their backdrop, Raiden couldn’t help but crack a wry smile. 

Her head was lower than he remembered it being. She’d grown even older, but she was still the old woman he remembered. Even after the internment began, this old woman was a school teacher who had sheltered Raiden and his Colorata classmates. 

When the Federacy’s military arrived to aid the Republic, Raiden had told them about her and asked to see if they could find her. But with the country in a state of chaos after being essentially destroyed, they couldn’t locate her that quickly. It took over a year for her whereabouts to be discovered. 

Maybe the Federacy’s army itself needed time to recover from the massive damages it had incurred during the large-scale offensive, so looking for missing persons was low on the priority list. 

But loath as Raiden was to admit it, all these thoughts were just escapism. Because just a short distance away from his touching reunion, there was… 

“Shin…! Oh, thank goodness, you’re still alive…!” 

“R-Reverend… Th-they’re gonna break. My ribs, and my spine, you’re gonna break them…” 

A white-haired man in priestly garb held Shin in a tight embrace. He was a hulking bear of a man, his bulging muscles filling his cassock. He had his arms wrapped around Shin, holding him in a strong bear hug. The rather shocking sight made it so Raiden couldn’t quite focus on the nostalgia of his own reunion. 

Raiden assumed this was the Alba priest who had looked after Shin and his brother in the internment camp. Needless to say, this wasn’t the image Raiden had in mind. He’d imagined him as a thin, saintly old man, not someone who looked like he could beat an Ameise to submission. Like, with a shovel. 

Raiden didn’t want to interrupt their reunion. Or rather, he was afraid to do so. At the urging of his self-preservation instincts, Raiden averted his gaze from the two of them. 

“Man, I’m so happy for First Lieutenant Shuga and Captain Nouzen.” 

“The two guests will be part of this base as military chaplain and auxiliary teaching staff, respectively, so they can see them whenever they want… But really, they look so happy.” 

“…You intend to tell me you’re honestly saying that at a time like this…?!” 

As Bernholdt gave an exaggerated nod and Grethe pretended to wipe her tears off with a handkerchief, Frederica watched the reunions with horrified eyes. The two of them ignored her reaction and continued pretending like they were watching over the situation. 

Neither of them wanted to get involved. 

“Despite not getting any proper training, the captain always had good knowledge of tactics for an Eighty-Six and knew how to service handguns and assault rifles. I always wondered why, but with a priest like that being his guardian, I think I understand.” 

“Apparently, that old priest used to be a soldier for the Republic’s national army.” 

Allegedly, the priest realized that violence might be a means to defend, but not a means to save anyone, and so he gave up the military life and turned to the path of God. 

“Ah, I see.” Bernholdt nodded solemnly, despite not understanding at all. 

“…That explains a few things about Shin.” 

Realizing how Shin was able to one-sidedly beat up Raiden and knock out Daiya despite their larger physiques, Anju watched over his hilarious…or rather, heartwarming reunion with the priest. 

“I suppose Shin has noble Imperial blood, so life in the internment camps was especially hard for him. He had to learn how to defend himself…” 

The Eighty-Six were bound to be drafted sooner or later, and those who were descended from the noble houses of the Empire of Giad were heavily discriminated against by their fellow Eighty-Six. Teaching Shin how to fight was likely the priest’s way of raising Shin with love. 

Shiden stood next to Anju, watching Shin and the priest with shocked eyes. 

“Yeah, but teachin’ him how to kill a man? The hell was that priest thinking…? If I was any less lucky, Li’l Reaper seriously would’ve killed me the first time we fought.” 

“But he didn’t, so it’s fine. Believe it or not, he went easy on you.” 

“I guess…” Shiden nodded. 

Anju regarded her with a sidelong glance. Shiden and Shin got along like cats and dogs, but even in spite of that, Shin wouldn’t go all out against a woman. Shiden did realize this, but she wasn’t going to hide behind her gender. Anju pondered that this was probably an unspoken gentleman’s agreement of sorts between the two of them. They didn’t hate each other that much on a fundamental level. 

“Besides, if you died, he wouldn’t have to worry about you attacking him again. That’s the best form of defense, isn’t it?” 

“You think that’s the issue…? Oh.” 

“Ah, Shin looks like he’s about to faint.” 

Frederica hurried over, half in tears, along with Grethe, who finally decided it was time to intervene. The two of them separated the old priest from Shin, who seemed about ready to pass out. 

As she somehow watched over that, Shiden suddenly turned a glance toward Anju with her silvery, snow-white eye. 

“Don’t you have parents, too, Anju? In the Republic?” 

“My father might still be alive, but…” Anju trailed off, then shrugged. 

It was a subdued, casual sort of gesture, but it still somehow made him look relieved. 

“I don’t really want to meet him that much… Or, well, I guess it doesn’t matter either way. Whether he’s alive or dead, that is.” 

She didn’t really want him to be alive, nor did she particularly hope he was dead. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to remember him, either. She didn’t spite or dislike speaking of her father that much, and it wasn’t as touchy a subject as one might think. She merely considered him a stranger. 

What do you suppose is the missing factor that would have made us like you? 

It was the question she had asked Dustin in the United Kingdom. When he wasn’t as shaken up by the sight of the Sirins’ deaths as the rest of them, when he didn’t question his very way of life. 

Looking back at it, it wasn’t that she was lacking something. It was more like… 

She smiled faintly, muttering to herself. Even knowing this, it was still a complicated matter. But… 

“…I should wear a dress with an open back. Or a bikini.” 

“…I see. So you buried Rei.” 

“Yes.” 

Speaking to his surrogate parent, the priest, Shin felt like he’d gone back to being a small child again. Other than him and Lena, the priest was the only one who knew Rei when he was still alive. And he also knew about his brother’s sin…which Lena didn’t know, and Shin had no intention of sharing with her. 

“I don’t have much to base it on, but…I feel like he saved me one last time at the end, too.” 

When he’d completely collapsed in the Legion’s territories, a Dinosauria had captured him and his friends, wandering into the Federacy’s patrol lines, where it was shot down. 

He’d likely saved him…even after dying twice over. He died a third time to deliver Shin and his comrades into the Federacy’s borders. And he was likely prepared to be destroyed in the process. 

“That’s…the best thing I could have heard. I see…you’ve finally forgiven him.” 

Those were words Shin didn’t expect, but upon hearing them, it felt like the priest was right. Shin wanted to forgive him. He wanted to be forgiven, and even as he knew he wasn’t guilty of anything, he wanted to slay his brother’s ghost. But just as much as he wanted to do that…he also wanted to forgive Rei. 

“…Yes.” 

“That’s good, then… You’ve really grown. And I’m not only talking about your height.” 

Shin looked back at the old priest, who smiled at him proudly. 

“When I sent you away, I didn’t think you’d return.” 

The priest could remember it vividly, even now. He could never forget it. The small child who had lost his parents, who had nearly been killed by his brother, made the decision to step onto the battlefield. The boy who had, by then, not only forgotten how to laugh—but he also no longer even knew how to shed tears. 

“Back then, you were haunted…haunted by Rei, who had already died. The dead reside in the darkness of Hades. It seemed to me that you thought if you went after him, you’d set foot in that same abyss.” 

“…” 

Maybe the priest was right. That very well could have happened. Shin never thought about what came next… No, he never wished to see what came next. All he wanted was to slay his brother and then snap like a blade of cold steel. He’d probably felt that way ever since that snowy battlefield two months ago. 

“But you look fine now. You really have grown.” 

“…Hearing it from you, Reverend, it doesn’t feel real.” 

Speaking to him made Shin feel like a child again… And the priest was so large, it didn’t feel like the height gap between them had shrunk any. 

“To me, you’ll always be a child… So if you ever feel troubled or need someone to talk to, you can always come to me. I am your military chaplain, after all.” 

The priest raised his eyebrows jokingly, and Shin cracked a forced smile. But that did make him think. Being troubled, needing someone to speak to… He did have a dilemma at present, after all. The business with Lena, that is. 

“…Then could you hear me out, Reverend?” 

“Of course.” 

Shin paused, thinking on how to sum up his problem…and then reconsidered. 

“…Actually, never mind.” 

Recent events had taught him that carrying a problem he couldn’t solve on his own was no good. Or rather, that being a burden on others was a bad idea. But in this case, he felt like relying on others wasn’t the right thing to do. 

“Now, what’s wrong? Matters of the heart, my boy?” 

“…How can you tell?” 

The priest laughed heartily. 

“If it’s a burden concerning a teenage boy, it can only be one thing… But my goodness…you’ve actually started thinking like a boy your age… It puts me at ease.” 

He’d heard the Federacy found that man’s family. 

When he was escorted to another room, Theo realized that this wasn’t a reunion like Shin’s and Raiden’s, where he could let other people see him. He understood why he was told that even though they had been found, they wouldn’t be permitted to see him if he didn’t want to. 

But when he saw the person in that room, Theo was taken aback. 

“…They said you knew Dad.” 

A despicable citizen of the Republic, an Alba. A young boy who looked to be eleven or twelve years of age. 

The captain of the first squadron Theo had been assigned to in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. A man who stayed behind and died to allow his subordinates to escape. A citizen of the Republic—an Alabaster—who had moved into the Eighty-Sixth Sector out of the belief that it was wrong to force the Eighty-Six alone to fight. 

Theo had asked the Federacy’s soldiers to look for his family. He’d thought it would only be right to tell them the captain fought to the very end. But… 

Theo’s lips trembled slightly. The man had a wife…and a child. A person he’d chosen to share his life with, a son he wanted to entrust the future to. He’d never imagined the captain had left all that behind to come to the Eighty-Six Sector. 

“Where’s your mother?” he managed to ask. 

“The large-scale offensive…,” came the boy’s brief, vague reply. 

“…I see.” 

The boy hung his head, his eyes fixed on the floral pattern on the carpet. 

“She always said Dad died doing what was right. That I should be proud of him… But Grandpa and the old ladies living in the neighborhood, all my friends, their mothers… They all said Dad was doing something wrong.” 

For a child at that age, it was the same as having the whole world say that. 

“They said he was a stupid man who threw away his homeland, his pride as a Republic citizen, and his family, all for the Eighty-Six. And then he went ahead and died for that. Everyone…kept calling Dad stupid.” 

Those snowy, argent eyes looked up at him almost desperately. They were the same color as the eyes of the despicable white pigs from the Republic. The exact same color as the captain’s eyes… And remembering that gaze still made Theo’s heart ache. Like an old wound. 

“But Dad wasn’t stupid, right? He did the right thing. The Eighty-Six might be a different color than us, but they’re still people. So Dad helped other people…and that wasn’t a stupid thing to do, right?” 

“…Of course it wasn’t,” Theo spat out. 

He wasn’t trying to push the boy away; his voice was just full of exasperation. Because they simply didn’t know. They didn’t know how strong or jovial he was. They didn’t know the last words the former bearer of Theo’s Personal Mark left behind. That was the only reason they could talk that way about this boy’s father. 

The boy was eleven or, at most, twelve years old. He was a newborn infant when the war started eleven years ago. There was no way he could remember his father’s face. He wasn’t like Theo, who once knew his parents’ faces but had since forgotten. This boy didn’t even have the time to know the captain. 

“He fought the Legion by our side and died trying to help us. No one has the right to mock him. The captain was every bit as righteous as your mother said…” 

But then Theo trailed off. Was the captain…righteous? Did he live righteously? Did he…die righteously? He’d cast aside his family and came to the battlefield, knowing he might never get to see his son again. And there, he died, with his child never knowing how he fought or how he perished. 

Could that be called righteousness? Would that kind of righteousness ever be rewarded? 

He cast aside his present happiness and discarded any prospects he had of future joy. And all he got for it was death. He was rejected by the other Eighty-Six, Theo included, and no one ever praised his name. 

Could that be called a foolish way to die? 

Please. Never forgive me. 

That was why, at the very end, he left those words behind as he died. 

“…Anyway…no matter what anyone else says, believe in your father.” 

But even as Theo said that, something in the back of his mind couldn’t help but whisper coldly, berating him for his hypocrisy. 

Shin, Raiden, Anju, and the others all went to greet the new military chaplain as well as the new auxiliary teaching staff. They were from the Republic, though, and so Kurena stayed behind in their home base, her feelings mixed about seeing them. 

She knew there were some Alba who were good people—the priest who had raised Shin and the old woman who had sheltered Raiden, for example. And then there were Lena, Annette, and Dustin. Kurena herself would never forget that one Alba officer who had tried to save her parents. Still, she had been too young to remember his name, so she couldn’t ask the Federacy to look for him. 

This military chaplain and the auxiliary teacher probably weren’t horrible people. But she still dreaded meeting them for the first time. She was scared… Yes, scared. Up until now, she’d always feared this. There was only one person the members of the Spearhead squadron could believe in, and that was Shin. And if not him, they could still believe in one another. 

Kurena hugged her knees, burying her face in them. After all, trusting in someone else would just end the same way. Her parents, who were gunned down by mocking, jeering soldiers. Her older sister, who never returned from the battlefield. At first, she really was all alone, thrown into the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s lethal battlegrounds. 

It would happen again. 

The Alba, people, the world itself… They were all too cruel. They’d betray her again without a second thought. So she couldn’t trust anyone. She wouldn’t. And that was why there was no future to look forward to. No dreams to cling to. 

Wishing for a bright future was as vapid and pointless as hoping one might have a nice dream tonight. If it could happen, she’d like to see it happen. But even if she didn’t…that was fine in its own way, too. That was how she felt. 

“So the war…” 

Probably wouldn’t end, either… 

Deep beneath the Strike Package’s home base and near the integrated headquarters was a hidden laboratory, which had been made to accommodate Zelene. The place had also been made out of consideration for Shin, who was constantly exposed to the Legion’s wailing. 

After concluding his business in the integrated headquarters, Shin visited Zelene at night, where he had encountered something he’d never experienced with the Legion. 

Rolling laughter. 

“…Keep this up, and I’ll get mad, Zelene.” 

<<N-no, I mean, I do feel bad for laughing, but… Ah-ha-ha-ha!>> 

Zelene was currently stored in an airtight, shielded container that inhibited and jammed all her functions, barring the ability to converse. The only way to communicate with her was through a series of low-sensitivity cameras, microphones, and speakers that were connected by wires to the container’s interior… 

…except that entire set was placed inside another box that had an actual face drawn over it with permanent marker. It felt like he was speaking to some kind of strange doll. 

“I think I’ll go back to my room now.” 

<<Ah, wait, wait. I’m sorry. That was wrong of me, so let’s talk a little… Heh-heh.>> 

Electronic, rolling laughter spilled from the speakers again. Exasperated at Zelene’s behavior, Shin glared at the cause of this conundrum. Zelene should have had no way of knowing about his rocky relationship with Lena. The fact that she knew meant someone had told her, and there was only one person who could have done that. 

“You’ll pay for this, Vika.” 

“If you think you can make me pay, I’d love to see you try,” Vika scoffed at him, utterly amused. 

<<Back to the matter at hand…,>> Zelene said, her voice still stifling some laughter. 

“…No, I think we’re done talking.” 

<<Come now, don’t pout. We have matters to discuss… That’s why you came to talk to me, isn’t it?>> 

Zelene’s voice became rather cold, as if some switch had been flipped in her mechanical mind. 

<<You came to ask me about the large-scale offensive.>> 

In the Federacy, the Eighty-Six were treated as special officers—they completed the higher education an officer usually had to complete before drafting during their service. Having spent their childhood in the internment camps, they’d hardly spent any time in schools, and so they lacked much of the cultivation and education most special officer cadets their age had. 

They were given schooling periods, which also doubled as vacations from their army service. But even outside those times, they were expected to attend lectures and engage in self-study, even between dispatches. This was why a study room was built in Rüstkammer base. 

Lena stopped as she passed by this room, which was packed with people. Not too long ago, the only ones to study here were the captains of each squadron and their vice captains. The post of captain required authorities and duties a normal company officer lacked or couldn’t deliver. As such, the captains and their vice captains were required to complete the special officer training as quickly as possible and advance to the next curriculum. 

They naturally had more homework than the other Processors, and if they didn’t engage in self-studying between missions, they would never be able to keep up. And so Lena thought she’d only find that small group of people in the room. But to her surprise, a large number of Processors sat at the desks, listening to the auxiliary teacher’s lecture. 

The ratio of Processors to non-Processors was rather high, especially given that it was around the end of dinnertime. This meant some people would still be eating, and yet there were quite a few Processors listening in. 

“If you’re looking for Shin, he still hasn’t come back from the integrated headquarters after greeting the priest.” 

She heard the heavy sound of boots clicking against the floor and turned around to find Raiden. 

“Really…? Ah, er, I wasn’t particularly looking for Shin.” Lena shook her head, flustered by the fact that he’d gotten her intentions half-right. “I was just thinking there were a lot of people at the lecture…” 

“Yeah.” Raiden nodded casually, as if he wasn’t disturbed by Lena’s odd reaction. “It’s been like this since we came back from vacation… Most people didn’t like this room before, though.” 

Raiden spoke while looking at the study room, which currently had more than half its seats occupied. His necktie, which was normally loose, was tied around his collar properly. He had an information terminal under his arm, which doubled as both a textbook and a notebook. 

“They said it feels like this room implicitly told them to stop being Eighty-Six.” 

“…” 

There were teachers stationed permanently in the base, and the study room’s shelves were stuffed with teaching materials. The instructors also offered career counseling and had materials prepared by the Federacy’s higher education institutions, as well as job training and career guides aimed at children and students. 

The study room felt like it was made to push them out of the world that consisted only of the battlefield. 

Certainly, none of the teachers or the Republic military officers who had this room built ever said anything to that vein. They only wanted the Eighty-Six to examine the future after the war and its possibilities… But having just come here, it was still too soon for the Eighty-Six to hear that wish. 

But little by little, some of them were trying to see what they meant. Seeing that put Lena at ease. 

“Are you on your way to class, too, Raiden?” 

“I guess. About time we started thinkin’ about what’ll happen after the war ends… Besides, did ya hear about the new teacher?” 

“Yes,” Lena said, then trailed off with a gentle smile. “I hear she was your old teacher.” 

That explained his tie and collar, then. He was trying to look prim and proper. 

“She heard I skipped classes on a few subjects, so I’m on my way to a telling-off and extra classes. She still doesn’t know when to stop talkin’, that old crone…” 

He sighed, his lips curled up a bit. The old teacher apparently heard him and turned her eyes in his direction, prompting him to avert his gaze uncomfortably like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“…Why don’t you join class, Lena? Theo and Kurena don’t come here too often, Anju’s electives are on a different day, and Shin’s away today. See, I…I’d rather not have to deal with the old bat alone…” 

Hearing him say that like a little kid when he was that much larger than the old lady made Lena break out in laughter. When she saw him frown like a young child, Lena asked him with a smile, “Raiden…is there something you’d like to do with your life? After the war ends, I mean.” 

Two years ago, back when they were still in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, she had asked Shin the same question. Back then, all they knew about one another were their voices through the Para-RAID…when Lena didn’t know the Eighty-Six had no future at the time. 

She asked Raiden how he felt now. If he was happy he’d survived and got away with his life… If he could consider the future now. 

For a moment, Raiden was silent. Not because he didn’t want to be asked or felt like he couldn’t answer… It was more like he was recalling a fond memory. 

“…You know, when you asked Shin that question two years ago…” 

I can’t say I’ve thought about it too much since then. 

“…at the time, he really didn’t wish for anything. And it wasn’t just because it was almost his time to die. It was because he was still haunted by his dead brother. Burying his brother was the only thing he had in life.” 

“…” 

“The fact that Shin said he wanted to show you the sea, the fact that he could wish for that? That was like a miracle, Lena. Took him a lot of guts to say that. And honestly, I really want you to tap into that courage, too.” 

Lena felt astounded. What was this? She wanted to run. If she could, she’d have dug a hole where she stood and buried herself. 

“Why do you know about that…?” 

He looked at her like she was the most miserable thing in the world. 

“I dunno how to break it to ya, Lena, but…I think just about everyone knows by now.” 

“The Federacy military discovered the weapon you described. They think it’s a sign that a second large-scale offensive is coming.” 

If they were to disclose the Legion shutdown signal to the public, the Federacy…even humankind itself might break off into factions at worst. And so Vika and Shin decided to keep it a secret and asked Zelene to give them information they could disclose instead. What she provided was information about a second large-scale offensive the Legion was planning. 

<<I’d imagine so. Since they were forbidden from using aerial weapons, the Supreme Commander units developed that weapon as a substitute. They couldn’t lift the prohibition, so they decided to introduce that thing in place of an aerial bombing. I’d imagine the reconstruction is already underway. I can predict that much.>> 

Shin blinked curiously. Zelene was one of the Supreme Commander units. He’d imagined she’d know. 

“That wasn’t definite information? You were only predicting they’d make it?” 

<<Research and development fall under the jurisdiction of my central processor, but matters of confidentiality do not. So I don’t know any specifics…erm…about the research based on the brain samples collected from the Republic.>> 

“The Sheepdogs?” Vika proposed. 

It seemed the name was difficult to parse for a Legion like Zelene. Having Vika simply nod composedly at that came across as rather strange. Not that Vika being strange came as a surprise by now. 

<<And the High Mobility type… No, the Phönix. Your naming sense is fascinating, I’ll admit.>> 

“Wait.” Vika furrowed his brow. “That unit was developed under your jurisdiction? As part of the central-processor research?” 

<<Yes. That was how I was able to leave you that message inside it.>> 

“…?” 

Vika suspiciously pondered what she’d just said. Seeing he wasn’t going to ask another question, Shin began speaking again. 

“Did they increase their ranks this time? We haven’t received any reports of that yet.” 

To confirm the authenticity of Zelene’s information about the second large-scale offensive, each of the countries began gathering information on the Legion forces they were facing with renewed vigor. The Federacy had asked Shin multiple times for help with their reconnaissance efforts, but he hadn’t detected any noticeable increase in the Legion’s numbers. 

He’d considered the distance might have been a problem, but if none of the countries detected any signs of reinforcements on their fronts, things were different. 

<<No. Despite increasing their numbers, the Legion failed to achieve their operation objectives in the last large-scale offensive. As such, they’ve decided that for the second large-scale offensive, they’d reinforce their war potential by upgrading their units and increasing their performance.>> 

Like the Eintagsfliege’s optical camouflage and weather manipulation. Like exchanging the Black Sheep that served as their shock troops with the more efficient Sheepdogs. 

<<But unlike countries that have scarce resources, the Legion is not trying to compensate for small numbers with quality. Sad as it is to say. The first large-scale offensive wasn’t just a failed battle for the Legion… Incidentally…>> 

Zelene seemed more composed now. 

<<…it’s as I guessed. You can tell the Legion’s numbers and positioning, but you can’t directly see Legion from afar, can you?>> 

Shin raised his head in surprise. As cooperative as she may have been, Zelene was a Legion. He couldn’t let her have any more information than she strictly needed to know. Right now, he was facing a camera, a microphone, and a speaker. It was a simple communication interface that didn’t allow her to so much as stir. 

Vika mentioned Lena in a chat with her, but he didn’t mention her name. And of course, neither of them gave her any details about Shin’s power. 

<<The Legion has acknowledged your existence, special hostile element Báleygr. Báleygr possesses some unknown means of highly accurate, wide-range reconnaissance, though he cannot distinguish different units. He also doesn’t seem to be capable of detecting units in stasis mode… The Legion has conjectured this much. After all, you did not see through my trap in the battle for the Revich Citadel Base.>> 

During the first operation on the Dragon Fang Mountain, Shin failed to recognize that the Legion’s frontline troops had switched places with a heavily armored force of Dinosauria, which went on to annihilate their decoy forces. Like Zelene had said, Shin could hear the Legion’s numbers and positions, but he could only guess at what types they were. This formed a flaw in his ability. 

“The fact that we didn’t see through your trap was a blunder on my behalf, as much as it pains me to admit it,” Vika said. “But don’t tell me the Legion’s changed their tactics just because they’re wary of Nouzen’s ability?” 

<<That wasn’t the only reason they changed their tactics, but I wouldn’t discredit it as a factor. The large-scale offensive had been planned for years, and yet you were able to anticipate it, prepare to counterattack, and eventually successfully weather it. The Legion’s commander units view you in higher regard than you realize. If possible, they want to assimilate you, but more urgently than that, they want you eliminated.>> 

And so… 

<<As for your squadron’s next operation… I won’t ask where you’re going. But wherever it is, be careful.>> 

“First, allow me to say it’s good to see you again, Nouzen. And Colonel Milizé, too.” 

In preparation for their next dispatch, the 1st Armored Division met in the Rüstkammer base’s briefing room. Gathered there were the squadrons’ commanders and their vice commanders; Lena—the operations commander—and her staff officers; as well as Vika—who would be accompanying them—and his own staff officers. 

And among them, there was only one boy affiliated with the 2nd Armored Division, smiling as he sat at one corner of the elliptical table. First Lieutenant Siri Shion. While the 1st Armored Division was on leave, two other Armored Divisions handled operational activity. One of them was the 2nd Armored Division, where he had served as the general commander for all its platoons. 

Also, during the large-scale offensive one year ago, he was the captain of the Razor Edge squadron, the first defensive unit of the Republic’s southern front’s first defensive unit. Even after the Gran Mur was breached, they didn’t enter Lena’s command, forming a defensive position on their own. Siri Shion was the leader of that group of Eighty-Six. 

“I’d say it’s been since the United Kingdom, hasn’t it? A month and some change…,” Shin said, cocking his head. “I thought the 2nd Armored Division was undergoing its schooling period.” 

Siri shrugged, dressed in his collared student’s uniform. His physique was slightly taller than Raiden’s, and he had thick golden hair and eyes. 

“I came here today specifically for the briefing. Kanan and the 3rd Armored Division are out on an operation, so we’re the only ones in this base who’ve fought in the zone you’re being dispatched to next—the Regicide Fleet Countries.” 

The Regicide Fleet Countries. They were situated to the east of the United Kingdom and to the north of the Federacy. It was a group of small countries with little territory that were nestled between the mountainous and hilly regions that spanned the two countries’ borders. 

When the Legion War broke out, they were invaded from the hilly regions to the east, forcing them to turn one of their countries into a defensive fortification. They gallantly kept the Legion at bay for ten years, but when all was said and done, they were only a collection of small countries. 

During last year’s large-scale offensive, they finally reached their limits. Once the Federacy successfully contacted them for the first time in a decade, the Fleet Countries sent a request for aid. That happened four months ago. 

Siri’s group was dispatched to their aid and launched three operations meant to destroy three Legion strongholds. Upon being deployed, they discovered two Legion production bases, successfully seizing them. Toward the end of their deployment period, they detected a third control base. 

They attempted to seize it, but… Put simply, they failed to break through, and it was decided they would retreat. 

“Your 1st Armored Division is going to be attacking that third base… I think you’ve already heard the story behind why we had to retreat, but I guess showing is better than telling.” 

A holo-screen appeared, presenting a rough optical recording. The image was mostly full of shades of blue, a large expanse of rippling water that resembled a lake, shone on by intense sunlight and rattled by strong winds. Beyond the large, angular waves, a massive metallic structure lorded over the waters like a fortress. 

Their next target was situated on the water. A naval battle, the likes of which Shin had never experienced in his seven years of combat experience. But the difficulty of it all seemed trivial right now. 

The image zoomed in on the top of the naval fortress. There was black armor—unusual among the Legion, which were usually steel-colored. A blue, shining optical sensor, like a will-o’-the-wisp. Two radiation wings that looked like they were woven out of silver threads stood against the backdrop of an azure sky that was all too different from the Federacy’s. 

And most unforgettable of all, a barrel made out of a pair of spears, like fangs bared against the heavens. 

Narrowing his bloodred eyes, Shin spat out the words. Both Zelene and Ernst had told him about it, but here it was a second time. An enemy he’d never wanted to fight again. 

“—A railgun.” 

An 800 mm caliber turret, firing at eight thousand meters per second with an effective range of four hundred kilometers. A massive railway gun exceeding a thousand tonnes and capable moving at high velocities. The one Legion unit that had once single-handedly menaced the Federacy, the United Kingdom, the Alliance, and the Republic. 

The Morpho. 

A deafening silence settled over the briefing room. Shin was the only one in the room to have directly battled the Morpho, but the Eighty-Six who were in the Republic at the time all knew how menacing it was. As did Vika, who had commanded the United Kingdom’s military. 

Within a mere two days, it had one-sidedly destroyed four regiments and a total of twenty thousand troops along with their base. In the space of one night, it toppled the Gran Mur. It was the Legion’s trump card in the large-scale offensive. 

The Federacy, the United Kingdom, and the Alliance had to join forces to bring this one Legion unit down in an all-or-nothing charge through enemy lines. The many damages it invoked made the three countries reassess their policies, with the Federacy choosing to move carefully and the United Kingdom electing to stop its advance. It forced them to create the Strike Package, which attacked pinpoint positions. 

This one unit alone forced three countries to completely change their strategies. 

“The Fleet Countries have designated this base the Mirage Spire. It’s located in a position three hundred kilometers off the regions of the old Cleo Fleet Country, which is now occupied by the Legion. The patrol ship that confirmed the Morpho’s position was promptly fired at and sunk. It means they know we’ve discovered them… And ever since, it’s been firing daily at the Fleet Countries’ territorial waters and any of their bases within its range.” 

The Fleet Countries’ hilly land was hardly above sea level, with water flowing through their territory freely. Much of their territories consisted of wetlands, terrain that was unsuitable for mobilizing heavyweight Feldreß. 

Instead, they defended their territories with multilayered defensive fortifications, as well as by building artillery formations across the many small islands that dotted their waters and maintaining a formation of battleships. 

By their very organization, the Fleet Countries had an exceedingly powerful navy. With covering fire from their artillery formations, which boasted long-distance multi-rocket launchers weighing over a thousand kilograms, their ships advanced to the vicinity of the shores. 

Impeded by these firm defenses, the Legion’s forces were mercilessly bombarded from their flank by onboard rocket launchers, which mowed down their forces. That was how the Orphan Fleet had been fighting the Legion off for the last decade… 

The breadth of land was narrow to the north and south, with most of it being wetlands. Facing the Legion in such conditions was difficult, which was why they had to resort to such bombastic means. The navy and artillery were the crux of the Fleet Countries’ defense, which they’d barely held on to for the last ten years. 

“Their marine artillery formation was annihilated over the last month. Many vessels were shot down as they crossed Legion-controlled waters, resulting in great losses. The worst part was that almost half of their land defense’s first line was within the railgun’s firing range. Soon after we retreated, the Fleet Countries had to abandon their first defensive line. They had to fall back to their second line and reserve positions. They don’t have much land as is, which means they’re effectively holding their last defensive line now.” 

“And if the Orphan Fleet falls, we’ll be facing a second large-scale offensive,” Vika said indifferently. “And since the Morpho settled in quagmire terrain, where neither heavyweight Legion or Feldreß can deploy, the United Kingdom and the Federacy are powerless to stop it.” 

The Fleet Countries were positioned adjacent to the United Kingdom and the Federacy, respectively to the east and north of them. They neighbored the Fleet Countries. The Morpho’s four-hundred-kilometer range could cross national borders, hitting the western and northern fronts, as well as some of their cities. 

Rito hung his head. 

“…Do you think the Federacy’s gonna send us out again, because they think we’re dangerous…?” 

Siri sighed and parted his lips to speak. During the large-scale offensive, when Siri refused to obey the Republic, Rito was under his command. To that end, the two of them knew each other. 

“Rito, when will you learn to think before you open your mouth? You don’t want everyone here to call you a crybaby, do you?” 

“Stop it, Siri!” 

“Also, I think I remember a few times where you called me and Captain Nouzen ‘Mom’ by mistake?” 

“I said stop it!” 

“…Shion, leave Rito alone. We’re in the middle of a briefing.” 

Shin stopped their exchange curtly, to which Siri shrugged. 

“I think I told you this in the United Kingdom, but you can just call me Siri, Nouzen. I hate my last name. Brings back memories I don’t like.” 

He curled his faint lips into a bitter smile. 

“I had a sister once. She died in battle. Of course, they couldn’t bury her, so in place of a grave, I decided I’d adopt her style of speech.” 

“Just letting you know, this whole story about his sister is fake,” Rito said. 

“Come on!” Siri chided him. “You could’ve at least let me tease them a little longer!” 

Lena’s expression turned docile at the sound of Siri’s story, but upon hearing it was made-up, her expression froze in an incredulous manner. Siri, meanwhile, eyed Rito with contempt for exposing him. 

“Man… You know how in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, everyone was like a pack of dogs? Deciding who the captain would be or settling disputes with fistfights? Well, I hate that.” 

Siri spat those words out bitterly. He was taller than Raiden, and his limbs were long and toned like whips. He looked like he’d be the strongest out of everyone here, but his words seemed to deny that barbaric approach. 

“We’re not dogs. We’re people. So we can’t forget that we shouldn’t hit other people on a whim. That’s how I feel, but my body’s a little too suited for fighting… So I decided I’d talk a little more calmly and avoid fights. After five years of speaking like that, I’ve gotten used to it.” 

He waved his hand dismissively and then continued. 

“Anyway… I’m sorry you have to clean up our mess. Neither us nor the Orphan Fleet can afford to charge a long-distance cannon with a four-hundred-kilometer range without a plan.” 

“That’s why the Orphan Fleet hasn’t been urging the Federacy to redeploy the Strike Package despite having been backed into their final defensive line for a month. They need to prepare, too. They’re waiting for the right chance.” 

A young female officer in a dark-violet uniform took over the conversation for Siri. She was Vika’s lieutenant, who had been deployed to the Fleet Countries in his place, leading an Alkonost unit alongside the Strike Package’s 2nd and 3rd Armored Divisions. 

“In other words, they’re preparing to break through the Morpho’s four-hundred-kilometer range. Please look at this.” 

As she rose to her feet in a single, practiced motion, she waved a hand, opening a holo-window. As she presented the data, Siri spoke to her casually. 

“Go ahead, Major Zashya.” 

Zashya turned around to face Siri like a spring-loaded doll. 

“…! How many times must I ask you to stop calling me a little rabbit…?!” 

For some reason, she was half in tears. Incidentally, Zashya was only slightly taller than Frederica and had a very slender physique. She wore her reddish-brown hair in pigtails, and her violet eyes were hidden behind a pair of round glasses. She had the distinct colors of a pureblood Amethysta, but she gave off an incredibly timid impression that almost seemed to spite the United Kingdom’s values that the nobility was obligated to serve in the army. 

“But everyone in the United Kingdom calls you Zashya…” 

“Th-they do, but that’s because His Highness keeps—” 

“Both your first and last names are long and cumbersome to pronounce, especially for foreigners,” Vika said casually. “You’re going to have to deal with it.” 

“Yes, but I’ve repeatedly asked you to call me Roshya instead…! Everyone, please call me that!” 

Zashya looked around the briefing room desperately, and everyone—Shin and Lena included—averted their gazes awkwardly. Like Vika said, her real name was too long and hard to pronounce for Lena, the Eighty-Six, and the Federacy’s staff officers. They assumed a short, casual nickname wouldn’t be too impolite. 

Vika simply urged her to continue with another shrug. 

“…By your will. I shall now explain the situation.” 

She switched the holo-screen’s image, which now showed an image of the Fleet Countries’ shore regions and the sea extending to the north of it. There was a red dot in the middle of the sea, signifying the Mirage Spire base, and around it… 

“Like First Lieutenant Siri explained, the Mirage Spire base is a fortress built on the waters three hundred kilometers off the shores of the Legion’s territories. The Orphan Fleet retained control of the waters after the war’s beginning, so it’s estimated that after the other coastal countries that weren’t part of the Orphan Fleet fell, the Legion used their harbors to build it.” 

At present, the Federacy has confirmed the situation of other countries in a very small range, spanning from the north-central regions of the continent to the west and south. Communications failed to reach the eastern countries, since they were separated by a vast hammada desert and a wall of Eintagsfliege, which was thicker than any other spot they’d seen on the continent. 

“Before the war, the Orphan Fleet was planning to mine an underwater ore vein. The Mirage Spire was built atop that site. There was also an underwater volcano they were planning to use as a source of geothermal energy, and the Legion took advantage of it, too, likely for production purposes. And…” 

She furrowed her beautiful, slanted eyebrows behind her glasses further. 

“…as has already been explained, and as you can see…there is nothing around that base. No natural or man-made structures that stand above sea level.” 

As they studied the map, they saw that there wasn’t so much as a single island for several kilometers around the Mirage Spire base. The only resources the base could access were the underground ore vein and volcano—which meant there was nothing else in the area. Even though they’d be approaching the base under bombardment from a long-distance cannon with a four-hundred-kilometer range, they would have nowhere to hide. 

“That’s why the Orphan Fleet is waiting for a storm. It’s why they haven’t launched an attack despite them having to hang on to their crumbling defenses for a month now. During this time of year, at the end of summer, large storms tend to blow in from the north. They’re hoping they can breach the Morpho’s bombardment zone by hiding under the cover of one of those storms.” 

Since the open ocean offered no cover or obstructions, they hoped the large waves and the rain and wind of a storm would allow them to avoid detection for long enough. Hiding in a storm is easy enough to say… Tilting her head, Lena asked, “But if we’re going to cross through the storm—” 

“An ordinary ship wouldn’t cut it, no. The waves will be rough, especially that far from the shore. Even a fighter jet isn’t guaranteed to fly through that type of storm and return to base safely. Like I’ve said, they’re waiting for a chance and making preparations. Said chance is the storm, and the preparations are what they will need to cross it. In other words, if a normal ship can’t go through it, they’ll need to prepare an extraordinary battleship.” 

The holo-window’s image changed again. It now showed a flattop silhouette that didn’t quite fit the description of a battleship. Its bridge was located at the portside of the ship as opposed to the center of the haul, resulting in what was called an island environment bridge. It also had a level flight deck with a long highway and a catapult. 

Two mounts for four 40 cm naval turrets were set up a bit farther away than usual from the flight deck, so as to not get in the plane’s way as it took off. At the very top of the bridge was a figurehead in the shape of a woman, which dully reflected the sunlight. 

“A supercarrier. For this mission, the Strike Package will be ferried by the Orphan Fleet’s prided, leviathan-hunting battleship.”