86 - Volume 9 - Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

MIRROR, MIRROR, ON THE WALL, WHAT DO ORDINARY MIRRORS SHOW?

In front of the smoking remains of a Weisel, a human voice—an unusual presence in the Legion’s territories—sounded in a triumphant shout.

“Hell yeah, it’s done for! We won! Whoooo!”

That shout came from Siri, who sat in his unit’s, Baldanders’s, cockpit. Transmitted through the Para-RAID, the radio, and his unit’s external speaker, his victory cry echoed throughout the battlefield.

They were in the northernmost tip of the Federacy’s western front, at the foot of a mountain that was part of the Dragon Corpse mountain range, which also served as the old Empire’s border with the United Kingdom. It was the designated operation zone of the Strike Package’s 2nd Armored Division.

A Free Regiment commander, who was currently seizing a nearby base, replied with a sardonic smile. Since they were in adjacent combat zones, Siri and he were Resonated so as to prevent friendly fire.

“Nice voice, First Lieutenant. A splendid baritone—reminds me of an opera singer I heard once.”

“Why, thank you. And, uh… sorry. I forgot I was still Resonating with you.”

He’d forgotten, indeed. Scratching his cheek awkwardly, he cut off the Resonance. Still, this battle had been chaotic enough that winning would cause him to whoop at the top of his voice. It had been annoying and exhausting.

Before the enemy could prepare for combat, the Reginleifs were to raid it by leaping in with the Armée Furieuse and seizing control of the situation. The Federacy’s plan was right on the money; they’d only run into a small number of Legion units, which were likely set to guard the Weisel directly.

Siri’s strategy for dealing with large Legion types like the Noctiluca—bombarding their heat sinks—proved to be successful. However, the Weisel’s heat sinks were larger and appropriately thick and durable, and it had multiple layers of them. It even had a few spare heat sinks inside its body, and after seemingly having broken down, it’d come back to life again. That was something they didn’t plan for.

A new Resonance target connected to Siri. This time, it was Canaan, who was in the northern border of the old Republic regions.

“Good work. The 3rd Armored Division neutralized its target thirty minutes ago, by the way.”

The report was delivered in a voice that was all business, but it was definitely a boast. Siri clicked his tongue at the nonchalant tone.

“That’s within the acceptable margin of error, you ass.”

“Well, the fastest ones to clear their objective were some Free Regiment soldiers on the northern front, so you’re right. It also made clear the limitations of my method. If we can’t accurately predict where the control core is, we need to start shooting blindly. Besides, the deployment openings and shafts are all full of mines and armored bulkheads. It takes too long to bust through them.”

“Yeah…”

Going inside through a deployment opening was usually seen as something to be avoided, but in the Weisel’s case, it proved effective.

“This time, we gathered information on their internal structure with this simultaneous attack, so we’ll probably be more accurate with our predictions next time. But I think we should give up on trying to get in through the deployment openings.”

“Our method was effective as well, sort of, but busting all the heat sinks takes too long. They’re harder than you’d think, and the enemy’s too big. Aiming at it with a tank turret at that elevation is hard. This time, it was fine, because we were fighting on land, but if it’s a battle at sea like with the Noctiluca, I don’t think it’ll have any problems cooling off anyway.”

He then mentioned that it was probably worth learning how those systems worked, even if strictly out of curiosity.

“The 1st Armored Division’s folk are using knives to cut through the armor and shoot missiles into their insides. That’s the kind of crazy idea that Nouzen and his merry band would come up with, I guess. But that plan might have been the most effective one after all.”

“So long as you can tear a hole into their armor, at worst, you don’t even have to shut down their cooling systems. It’s possible to destroy their control core or their power reactor… That said, Nouzen and his group are still fighting.”

Mm? Siri raised an eyebrow.

“Wait, they’re working with the Myrmecoleo Free Regiment, that railgun prototype, and Nouzen, who can detect the enemy’s core…and they’re not done yet?”

“Well, they’re up against that Halcyon unit. The Weisel that has railguns on it. They have to march on that monster bird while taking out its railguns. I’d imagine that’d take them a while.”

“…No, actually, from the looks of it, it seems like everything went smoothly up to the part where they stalled the Halcyon,” Suiu, who was in training in the Federacy, suddenly cut into the conversation.

Her voice sounded quite strained.

“—What’s wrong?” Siri asked.

“Did something happen?” Canaan seemed concerned.

“Yeah. Colonel Grethe’s already on the move, and all the 4th Armored Division’s members—deputy officers and below—and the staff officers are supposed to record it. Listen to what she has to say if you can, too.”

The Halcyon crashed into the ground, resulting in a quake that made even the ten-tonne Reginleifs hop, and blew a thick layer of ash into the air like some kind of exhausted sigh. Shin heaved a breath of his own, and while still remaining cautious, he spoke.

Burning it from the inside for a moment wasn’t enough to take it out after all. Every one of the control cores, with the exception of the railguns, were intact. He could still hear their howls.

“Vanadis. Temporary incapacitation of the Halcyon successful. Proceeding to keep the combat area secured until the Trauerschwan and the brigade’s main force assume firing positions.”

“Roger that. Good work, all airborne units,” Lena replied, hearing the Processors of the airborne battalion cheer from over the Resonance. “Cyclops, don’t do anything reckless, please.”

In contrast to their operation in the Fleet Countries, where they were rather backed against the wall, the countermeasure they came up with on their own proved effective and produced results. That made them feel all the more accomplished.

Shiden, whom she scolded, simply gave a vague response and immediately lunged at Shin.

“Yeah, ma’am… Oh, and by the way, Li’l Reaper? Hey, Li’l Reeeeaper. I’m talking to ya, Reaper!”

“Ugh, what do you want?” Shin replied with blatant annoyance in his voice.

“You know damn well what I want. I risked my neck to keep the railgun’s sights off ya—don’t you have somethin’ to say?”

“You volunteered for this. I don’t need to hear your complaints.”

“I wasn’t complainin’, was I? I just said you’ve got somethin’ ya need to tell me.”

Shin responded with an exasperated clicking of the tongue.

Bernholdt and the Nordlicht squadron seemed astonished, while Anju held back a chuckle. Raiden, Claude, and Tohru all laughed out loud. Lena couldn’t help but smile as she gave her next orders; it felt like it had been too long since she heard Shin and Shiden bicker like that.

“Undertaker, Cyclops, that’s enough of that. Airborne battalion, keep a careful watch over the combat area. Main force, we need to get the Trauerschwan in position as quickly as possible…”

It was then that Hilnå said something. It wasn’t in the Republic’s or the Federacy’s common language, but in the Theocracy’s tongue, which neither Lena nor the Eighty-Six could understand.

And then within the giant holo-screen projected into the command center…

…every soldier with the unit symbol of a swift, dapple-gray horse—the soldiers of Shiga Toura, the Theocracy’s 3rd Army Corps under her direct command—suddenly stopped in their tracks.

Lena, the staff officers, and the control personnel like Marcel were all taken aback. The diversion unit wasn’t scheduled to stop marching at this point in time, of course.

“…Hilnå, what are you—?” Lena turned to face her.

This time, Hilnå spoke in the Republic’s and the Federacy’s common language. With a cherubic smile, and a voice as soft and supple as lush silica sand.

“Bloody Reina. Eighty-Six. Will you defect to our country?”

“…?!”

Rito swallowed nervously as countless dots suddenly filled his radar screen. It was directly ahead in the direction they were traveling, in an area cleared of the Legion’s advance force. The IFF didn’t respond to those units; their heat signatures were unknown. And they were spread out in a fan formation—positioned for an ambush.

“Spread out!”

By the time, he’d shouted that order to his consorts, he had already moved to make Milan jump away. Rito was an Eighty-Six and had his warrior’s senses whetted by the hardships of war. He was by no means optimistic enough to adopt a wait-and-see approach when faced with unidentified units in an ambush.

The thundering rumble of high-caliber cannon fire roared from ahead of them. As Rito withstood the severe acceleration that resulted from his evasive maneuver, he glared at the optical screen with his agate eyes. An aerodynamic shell had just barely skimmed across Milan’s flank. A large cloud of ashes rose from the source of that shot.

Its firing speed was quick. And what’s more, it’d unleashed a powerful blast behind it that was unique to that weapon.

A gun without recoil.

“Shit, that means another shot’s coming! Keep dodging!”

The cannon roared loudly again, and HEAT shells once again rained down on them. More clouds of dust bloomed up, filling the air and blinding their field of vision.

A recoilless gun was an anti-armor gun that negated the recoil of firing large shells by unleashing it as a shock wave behind it. With this method, even a lightweight Feldreß could carry a large-caliber gun, but it had major flaws.

Most of the gunpowder’s kinetic energy was devoted to reducing the recoil, making the shells slower, and the intense backward blast kicked up sand and sediment, exposing the shooter’s position. For this reason, units that used recoilless guns didn’t carry one barrel, but six of them. The first shot would expose one’s position, but in the event that it failed to destroy the enemy, one could fire a second or third shot immediately.

This was something that Rito had been taught immediately before this operation. Which was to say, neither Reginleifs nor Juggernauts—nor the Legion that opposed them—used this recoilless gun. Which meant…

The wind blew past, carrying with it some of the ash that hung over the battlefield like a curtain. And on the other side of it appeared a group of small, pearl-gray shadows.

Pearl-gray.

These were units that sacrificed pure mobility to prioritize remaining above the ash that covered this land. They had four wide mechanical-looking legs. They maintained large contact surface with the ground and were reminiscent of a bird’s wings. Even when accounting for the shape of those legs, which seemed to be crawling across the ground, they had short torsos, no taller than Frederica. Stretching from each of its flanks was a set of three gigantic 106 mm recoilless guns, spread out like wings.

They very much looked like they’d been built hurriedly in the middle of a war. They were hard to look at. The sight of them almost felt brutal, like watching small, injured birds dragging their broken wings along the ground.

The armored type 7, Lyano-Shu.

The unmanned drone that accompanied the Theocracy military’s official Feldreß, the armored type 5 Fah-Maras. Many Fah-Maras had been destroyed during the decade of fighting, and so the type 7 drones were produced in large numbers to compensate.

“…Why?”

Fah-Maras units appeared behind the Lyano-Shu. They moved in a manner typical to the Theocracy’s Feldreß, in something reminiscent to an infant crawling, like an animal dragging along its broken limbs. It, too, had eight winglike legs, but since it was a manned unit, and the stressed situation of the war meant the pilot’s life had to be prioritized, its thick, heavy frontal armor was covered with extra armor plates. Even the engine and cartridge of its 120 mm rifle cannon were placed ahead of the cockpit to shield the pilot, making for a rather distinctive design.

There could be no doubting it anymore. The Theocracy military—which had been their allies up until now—had turned their guns on the Eighty-Six and the Federacy’s Eighty-Sixth Strike Package, as enemies.

Faced with Lena’s stunned gaze, Hilnå grinned.

As she turned around with her back to the main screen, the Theocracy control and staff officers remained with their eyes fixed on their consoles, as if none of this was out of the ordinary. They didn’t regard the corps abruptly stopping in their tracks and the corps commanders’ sudden words with doubt or confusion. They remained silent and unresponsive, as if everything was going according to plan.

The only change was that their faces, hidden under their hoods, were tilted slightly as they exchanged gazes and began whispering to one another.

Lena withstood the urge to click her tongue. The frontline units weren’t the only ones involved in this. The staff officers were in on it, too. If nothing else, the entirety of the 3rd Army Corps, Shiga Toura, were their enemies.

But aside from that, she’d noticed something else that was off: the Theocracy staff officers’ voices and the lines of their jaws, which were slightly visible under their hoods. They looked much younger than she’d imagined. They were, at best, the same age as Shin and Lena, if not a year or two younger.

Of course, teen officers weren’t all that unusual in this day and age. The Federacy had its special officers, and Lena was of course used to being around the Eighty-Six. But this was the corps command center. And even with their dwindling number of soldiers, the oldest of the Theocracy’s soldiers were only in their twenties.

It was strange. It was like everything implied that the Theocracy’s army was made up entirely of teens and young adults… And indeed, Lena couldn’t remember seeing a single adult soldier since she’d arrived at the Theocracy. The staff officers, the translators, the child soldiers who showed up to play with them—they were all young.

And so Hilnå watched Lena, who stood wordless, with uncaring eyes. She shifted her gaze to the Federacy officers, clad in their metal-black uniforms, as their expressions changed from suspicion to caution to distress, and then repeated the question.

“Will you defect to our country? Eighty-Six, Bloody Reina, and the many staff officers. Present your achievements and feats of heroism—your very selves—as an offering to us.”

* * *

In terms of the chain of command, the 3rd Battalion had no hierarchical relationship with the Strike Package, so there was no reason Shin would be connected to Hilnå over the radio. But even so, Hilnå’s voice reached his ears, and in a sonorous way.

Her voice was transmitted through the device they were given at high volume. It was clearly relayed to them with the intention that they’d hear it.

“Will you defect to our country? Eighty-Six, Bloody Reina, and the many staff officers. Present your achievements and feats of heroism—your very selves—as an offering to us.”

“…What is she thinking?”

The operation was still underway, and they’d never asked to defect to begin with. But this clearly wasn’t a question or an invitation. This was…

“You must relish in the desire to save others, ye heroes. Then know that our country’s situation is much more dire than the Federacy’s. Prioritize us over the Federacy and every other country, for none are more pitiable and helpless than we.”

…a threat.

They wanted to take away the information the Strike Package had. Or maybe they wanted to get their hands on the Eighty-Six as soldiers—just like the remnants of the Republic, the Bleachers, did.

It seemed the Eintagsfliege’s deployment was thin at the moment. There were only scant traces of static noise littering the radio transmission as the girl’s gentle laughter danced upon the airwaves.

“Should you refuse to accept, you will perish on this battlefield.”

Even still, the Eighty-Six couldn’t understand what was going on. They could understand that the Theocracy’s army, which had been their allies until now, had suddenly turned their muzzles on them. They could understand that they were now their enemies. But why? What in the world was going on?

The ones to respond to this first were the Myrmecoleo Regiment. The only one of the five divisions to remain as rear guard rather than act as part of the diversion force, which had remained behind the rest of the main force—the 8th Division. As the enemy snuck up behind them, the cinnabar-colored units immediately turned around and opened fire.

The Reginleifs reacted a moment too late. They weren’t shamefully hit by the first shots, but as Gilwiese saw the division directly behind him move in a way that clearly showed that they didn’t anticipate the surprise attack, he held back the urge to click his tongue.

They likely didn’t even think the Theocracy might betray them. They didn’t expect betrayal in any of the other countries’ battlefields that they’d been to, or in the Federacy’s territory, despite the fact that it wasn’t their own homeland.

“You’re too naive, Eighty-Six! People and even entire countries can betray you; don’t you know that?!”

And all that after both the Federacy and the Theocracy had pushed them into acting as the advance force and the airborne unit, which were by far the most dangerous roles in this operation!

Yet even with that in mind, they’d never considered it. These child soldiers, who had been forced into the Republic’s deadly Eighty-Sixth Sector, who had fought on and clung to life, never giving in to despair. They didn’t know that when all was said and done, war was nothing but a gruesome, unsightly method that people employed to settle disputes among themselves.

“Gilwiese to all captains! As of this moment, the Myrmecoleo Free Regiment voluntarily terminates its support mission for the Theocracy military!”

His order wasn’t met with any doubt or confusion. Ever since they’d been deployed, Gilwiese had held some suspicion toward the Theocracy and even toward the Strike Package, like a blade held between his lips. He was always ready for betrayal, so when it did happen, he wasn’t caught off guard.

“The Theocracy armored unit in our twelve o’clock direction is to be set as an unknown enemy unit. In the name of protecting the Federacy Expedition Brigade—”

After all, the Myrmecoleo Free Regiment was established as a tool to be utilized in the name of a conflict. So the nobility could use them to steal rights over the military away from the civilians. So the crimson noble Pyropes could regain the title of hero from the Onyx half-breed. And so they could make sure that those who drew on the blood of the Pyropes but sullied it by being ordinary officers could remain as a military force, while keeping the honor of being a soldier.

“—we hereby open hostilities with the Theocracy’s 3rd Army Corps’s 8th Division, as well as the unknown enemy unit. We will show them!”

Show those children, who may have known the malice and irrationality of a battlefield overrun with Legion but were still ignorant and innocent of the darkness and gloom of the world of humanity.

“…Even though they’ve been betrayed by their own homeland and had everything taken from them, these children haven’t lost the fundamental humanity needed to believe in something.”

He found it enviable. But as the words escaped his lips, the roar of the Vánagandr’s power pack drowned them out, and they failed to reach Svenja’s ears.

“Should you refuse to accept, you will perish on the battlefield.”

Kurena listened to those words in blank amazement. It was the same dainty, delicate, and seemingly virtuous girl she’d met earlier, the same one who’d prayed for their success in battle just before the mission. She asked them to save her country, and the Strike Package responded to her words.

But then dark emotion surged up from the bottom of her heart like a stalagmite. Kurena clenched her toes bitterly. That girl’s adorable demeanor, her smile, the kindness she directed toward them.

It was all a lie.

“…How dare you.”

Why did she believe her? Help us, she said, as if to say fight in our name. She stroked their egos, calling them heroes, when all she really wanted was to use them as weapons. And that was no different than what the Republic’s white pigs would say.

And really, white pigs weren’t only in the Republic. There were other pigs just like them everywhere. And the Theocracy was but one more. Every other country was capable of it. They would tempt them with sweet words and gentle smiles by speaking of intangible hopes like dreams and the future.

That was how everyone tried to take advantage of her and her friends.

Everywhere was the same. It was always the same.

Everyone other than her comrades would always try to make use of them, and then they’d cruelly, ruthlessly take everything away.

That was how the Eighty-Six were always treated. In the Eighty-Sixth Sector, it was through death on the battlefield. In more peaceful places, it was through pitying expressions. And here in the Theocracy, it was by forcing the mantle of hero upon them.

It was always done so naturally, as if using and being used was the fundamental nature of the world.

It felt as if a dark curtain had settled over her field of vision.

Right. In the end, that’s what people—what the world—were like. Cold, ruthless, callous, and despicable. It was a place where the more hope you had, the more you could expect to lose.

Like how they took away her parents. Like how they took away her older sister. Just like how they took away Theo’s pride, even as he wanted nothing more than to fight to the very end.

She wouldn’t believe in anything anymore. The only ones worthy of trust were her comrades. And all who weren’t her comrades were either her enemies or meaningless people who simply hadn’t turned their backs on them yet.

She wouldn’t believe in people. Or the world, or the future. Or the end of the war.

<<Cooling of propulsion system complete. Plan Ferdinand, rebooting.>>

<<Warning. Control cores of railguns numbers one to five have all been eliminated. Commencing repairs while using railgun number one’s core as the basis for reproduction.>>

<<Melusine Two, commencing reproduction. Melusine Three, commencing reproduction. Melusine Four, commencing reproduction—>>

<<Melusine Six, reproduction complete.>>

<<Railguns numbers one to five—restart.>>

Suddenly, the trembling of the crouching behemoth, not unlike a dying insect’s convulsions, became a stable vibration. It was the sound of the Halcyon’s powerful propulsion system restarting. It had been built to support its massive weight, and it had just recovered from its temporary shutdown due to overheating.

The metallic behemoth lifted its gigantic form, causing the earth to tremble beneath its weight.

<<So cold.>>

And as the Halcyon rose, the girls’ pained wails, which had been silenced, spilled from its massive form once again. The Shepherd controlling the railgun… Shana’s mechanical ghost. Its wailing echoed around them in close range from each of the five turrets at the same time.

<<So cold.>> <<Socold.>> <<SOcoldcOlD.>><<ld>><<COLD>><<So>><<ColdCOldCOLD>> <<Coldldldldldldldld…!>>

“Ngh?!”

“Aaah…!”

This was the first operation where Olivia and Zashya were Resonated with Shin in live combat. The two of them weren’t used to his ability yet, and they promptly cut the Para-RAID’s link and left the communication network.

The agony—the mechanical madness was simply that intense.

The reactivated railguns swiveled, pointing up toward the heavens. The flashing light of an arc discharge cut across the ashen sky as it unleashed a long, incessant barrage upward.

The airborne battalion’s units evaded the shower of buckshot, which weighed several tonnes, and quickly moved away from the Halcyon to escape the bombardment range of the shrapnel. Having swatted away the insects buzzing about them and regained their minimal range, the railguns moved their guns to a level degree of elevation—horizontally. Shana’s wailings once again rose in pitch.

“…!”

“Dammit, not again…!”

“Hearing it from this close up… It really is hard…!”

The sheer weight of those screams clawed at everyone’s hearts. Even Raiden and the Spearhead squadron members, who had fought alongside Shin for years and were used to his ability. Even Claude and the Processors of the airborne battalion who had been on several operations with him already.

“Shin! Are you all right?!”

“Yeah. It’s a little hard when it’s really close, but at this distance, I’ll be fine.”

The fact that the five railguns could come back to life without using the liquid butterflies like the Noctiluca did came as a surprise… But since the Halcyon was originally a Weisel, it could produce Liquid Micromachines from inside its body to compensate for the damage it took, and it would be able to put them to use without having to expose them to the outside.

Olivia soon reconnected to the Resonance, and a moment later, so did Zashya. Her teeth were still clattering a little, but she spoke bravely.

“I-it only took it two hundred seconds to reboot. It’s recovering faster than expected, Captain Nouzen! And with the Trauerschwan’s march being obstructed on top of that, if we try to overheat it every time it activates, we won’t have enough shells to last for too long!”

Anju then entered the conversation.

“Shin, we only have seven missile launchers between us and the other unit. The artillery squadron wants to save its ammunition to keep the Trauerschwan’s shots from being intercepted. It’s as she says: We can’t keep knocking it down again and again.”

“We don’t have that many tank or autocannon shells left, either. We couldn’t bring Fido along to our pleasant little flight.”

“Yeah. So at worst, even if we can’t incapacitate it, we need to at least make sure it doesn’t shoot the Trauerschwan. We’ve confirmed the blade-piles are effective; we just need to destroy the Halcyon, and our objective will be complete.”

Either way, they had to defeat this threat to the Federacy. And if they could, they needed to collect information or parts from the wreckage. And most importantly, they all had to come back alive. So in the name of all those objectives…

“Królik, I’m sharing optical footage of the Halcyon’s insides with you. Can you single out its cooling system’s pipes?”

“Roger; that’s our countermeasure for if we run out of rockets, right? I’ll have it done.”

“Shiden, can I count on you to deal with Shana again?” he asked Shiden, who’d remained silent ever since the screams resumed.

He knew this was a heartless question to ask. She’d decided to put her to rest with her own two hands and even went through with it, only for Shana to come back to life as if to spite her. Asking Shiden to slay her again was too cruel.

But her response was surprisingly calm.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it. And don’t talk to me with that worried tone, Li’l Reaper.”

She even smirked at him wryly, unexpectedly enough.

“I’ll pummel her so far underground, she’ll have no choice but to stay down. No one gets to bury her but me.”

Carrying firearms was strictly forbidden in the Theocracy’s control room. Before entering, Lena and the others had been instructed to leave their weapons behind, and they abided by those instructions. An assault rifle’s barrel was too long to hide. And so Lena lacked the power to defend herself, to say nothing of breaking out of there.

“No,” Lena said over her shoulder. “We refuse.”

In the next moment, the control officer sitting next to her kicked her own chair away and rose to her feet. She was clad in a steel-colored uniform, so as to fool the Theocracy into thinking that she was part of the control personnel. And at first sight, she looked perfectly human. The only thing that set her apart was the vivid shade of her hair and her glassy eyes. And of course, the quasi-nerve crystal in her forehead.

A Sirin.

“Presumed situation, Eight of Red. Commencing combat.”

She held up her palms toward the staff guarding the doors, who suddenly spurted blood and staggered back. She was likely a modified model that had a repeating firearm hidden between her arm mechanisms.

Carrying firearms was strictly forbidden in the Theocracy’s control room. Before entering, Lena and the others had been instructed to leave their weapons behind, and they abided by those rules. And this was why the possibility of a Sirin, a mechanical doll that hid a firearm within her body, was something Hilnå and the guards couldn’t anticipate.

“—Run!”

At the same moment, a broadly built supply-staff officer threw Lena over his shoulder and sprinted toward the exit. The male control and intelligence officers followed suit, kicking away the guards who were kneeling on the ground and clutching their injured shoulders, and punched the button that operated the door mechanism.

The supply officer slipped through the door, covering for Lena. The control officers, staff officers, and the Sirin that had snuck in as an officer followed them. Thankfully, there was no sign of any Theocracy soldiers in the long corridor. They ran down the hallway, but it was still a dangerous path to tread. It was a single straight line with nothing to offer cover.

Seeing Marcel wince, the officer running next to him slowed down and asked:

“Second Lieutenant Marcel, are you all right?”

“If it’s just a short distance, I can still run better than any punk in the streets.”

Marcel was originally a Vánagandr Operator but changed professions to a control officer after injuring his leg. His leg couldn’t react as quickly as would be required of an Operator, but he was perfectly capable of running, nonetheless.

“…But going long distances might be pretty bad. Don’t worry, though; leave me behind if things go south.”

“You know we can’t do that,” the officer said.

“Yes, serving as rear guard is a Sirin’s duty,” the mechanical girl cut into their exchange.

As they turned a corner, they used the wall as cover and stopped for a moment. The Sirin apologized and rolled up the uniform pants that covered her slender knees. Apparently, there was a slit set within her artificial skin.

Marcel couldn’t help but look away, but the staff officers gasped. Underneath this artificial girl’s human-shaped legs were silvery, metallic bones and nothing else. Her body was supported and propelled by a cylindrical linear actuator. There weren’t even artificial substitutes where her muscles should have been, but rather several machine pistols hidden inside the empty aperture of her legs.

“His Highness prepared this in case of emergency. They use custom high-speed revolving pointed bullets, made for antipersonnel targets. They should be useful for getting out of here.”

Their initial velocity was quick, and they should have been capable of penetrating body plates. What’s more, the bullets rotated inside the body, causing damage to tissues without wasting any kinetic energy. From Vika’s perspective, the Theocracy—or rather, humans in general—were perfectly capable of betrayal, and preparing for that only came naturally to him.

The vividness of it all made Lena and Marcel wince. The staff officers, by contrast, didn’t hesitate to pick up the gun grips.

“—The hunks of scrap metal are one thing, but this isn’t the kind of toy we should be aiming at people,” an operations staff officer said, less to the two of them and more to himself.

The Sirin girl nodded.

“I leave the rest to you, human friends… I can’t run for much longer, so I will stay here and stall for time.”

She’d done away with her artificial muscles and had only moved minimally on her linear actuator. She could still walk, but she couldn’t run for long. She smiled at them and left, and moments later, they could hear a loud explosion rattle the command center they’d just left behind. The fragrant pearl-gray walls shook.

The Theocracy’s 3rd Army Corps, which were in charge of the diversion, had stopped in place, but that was irrelevant to the Legion they were currently fighting. A part of the Legion units turned around and hurried over to defend the Halcyon, but many of the Legion still remained to exterminate the enemy. This meant that the Theocracy army, which was meant to keep the Legion in check, was instead stopped in place by the Legion they were meant to distract.

To begin with, an entire division, numbering in the tens of thousands, was too large a unit to change course or stop in its tracks that easily. Especially when the enemy in front of them was trying to prevent them from doing anything. And with the 2nd Army Corps right next to them, they were impeded by both their own large size and the horde of Legion fighting them.

But even though the entirety of the Theocracy military had turned on them, the only ones to fight the Federacy Expedition Brigade directly were the ambush regiment in front of them and the 8th Division, which had attacked them from behind.

And while two divisions were a much larger force compared with them, the Strike Package’s Reginleifs and the Myrmecoleo Free Regiment’s Vánagandr’s were Federacy Feldreß—cutting-edge models developed by one of the strongest military powers on the continent and honed on the battlefield. Despite the numerical disadvantage, the Federacy Expedition Brigade successfully intercepted the enemy army’s attack.

However…

…the Fah-Maras was a manned unit, and Rito and his comrades couldn’t very well use it as a stepping stone the same way they did against the Legion. Even if they knew this unit wasn’t a brittle walking coffin like the Juggernaut, and even if it was as armored and sturdy as a Vánagandr or a Löwe.

None of that mattered. There were people inside.

“Why…?!”

He recalled one boy who had enjoyed eating lemon peels. Another one who was good at arm wrestling. An older boy who had served him tea that had spicy condiments mixed into it when they first got to the Theocracy.

They weren’t lying about that—that much was obvious—but if that’s the case, then why?

An alarm blared.

As thin as the Reginleif’s armor was, it deflected 12.7 mm bullets, but being attacked had activated its alerts. A spotting rifle had probably shot at him. Since the ash got in the way of laser sights, this rifle was used exclusively for focusing the sights of one’s weapon on the blank sector’s battlefield.

And if a spotting rifle had been fired, it meant a cannon shot was bound to follow.

Rito dodged away, reflexively turning the muzzle of his 88 mm gun toward the enemy. But his sights fixed on a Fah-Maras. And inside, there could have been someone who had shared sweets with him, competed with him, or played with him.

Rito wavered in the last second. But the Fah-Maras unflinchingly fired at him. He could hear a voice coming from its external speaker. It sounded like the speaker was a girl, or perhaps a boy whose voice hadn’t deepened yet. They spoke in a language he didn’t know, but their way of speech made their intent clear.

I’m sorry.

If they went as far as to say that…then why?

“…!”

Rito was lucky that he’d taken evasive measures ahead of time. The tank shell narrowly skimmed by Milan, flying past it before bursting. The shells’ fragments pelted his unit in close range, smashing his optical screen. The screen’s sharp fragments rained over his head.

“Rito?!”

“I’m fine, just a little scratched. Sorry, I can keep commanding, but fighting might be a little too much right now.”

The shards of the optical screen had only scratched him. But the cut was on his forehead, directly above his right eye. His dominant eye was sealed shut with blood, and as he touched it, he realized this wasn’t a wound that was going to close on its own any time soon. He tried wiping the blood away, even though he knew it was pointless.

“Why…?!”

“Imperials are as war-obsessed as ever…”

Only one Federacy soldier fought back against those in the base, just to self-destruct in the end. She’d hidden some kind of high-explosive device on her, which even had ball bearings hidden inside it to function as shrapnel. The sterile pearl-gray of the walls was now stained with blood, its stench suffocating the aroma of the command center’s scented eaglewood.

Hilnå sighed. An explosive’s blast would be lethal enough on its own, but they had to add metallic balls to create a buckshot, increasing its lethality and range. It was a similar idea to a buckshot mine. The girl had a pistol, which she’d somehow hidden on her person, but once she’d run out of bullets, she refused to surrender. Had the control officers not noticed her defiance and grabbed onto the Federacy soldier, none of the command center’s people would have survived.

The two officers who had taken hold of her were torn away by the buckshot, and the female soldier who blew herself up was decimated by the blast. Three people’s worth of flesh and blood, as well as countless metal fragments, scattered across the command center in a gory splatter. The officer who’d pushed Hilnå down to the floor was covered in other people’s blood and was also bleeding a bit himself.

Hilnå, however, was kept safe by his protection and the two other officers’ sacrifice. There wasn’t a scratch on her. A droplet of blood that had splashed onto her white cheeks was the only thing her faithful blades had failed to deflect.

“Are you all right, Princess?!” the officer who had protected her asked.

“Yes. You have my thanks, as do the two who sacrificed themselves.”

A human body could serve as an effective shield against bullets and buckshot. Since the dawn of modern military, there were countless stories of soldiers who threw themselves over hand grenades to save their comrades.

And that is how we’ve protected our country: by sacrificing many.

Hilnå wiped the droplet of blood under her eyes, drawing a line of bloody rouge on her unblemished, snow-white skin, like makeup.

“To adhere to your fate and fall in battle as the call of destiny dictates. How fortunate…and enviable.”

A cinnabar-colored Vánagandr covered for a Reginleif that had failed to evade a shot, standing in the shot’s way and blocking the HEAT shell with its firm frontal armor. The solid plate prevented the metal jet from invading the Vánagandr’s interior, while the 120 mm APFSDS that it fired back as a counterattack blew the Lyano-Shu to bits.

“Are you all right, kid?”

“Th-thank you…”

“Don’t mention it. Shielding women and children from harm is our honor.”

Listening to this exchange through the radio and almost imagining the toothy grin of the Vánagandr pilot, Frederica felt a bit reluctant. But after seeing the sight with her own eyes, she parted her lips in thanks.

She was sitting inside one of the Trauerschwan’s leg control chambers, hidden behind the Reginleif formation. Lena’s group was still escaping, and her acting substitutes, the squad commanders, were all in the middle of combat. As much as she was a Mascot and lacked any authority, she should at least thank them in their stead.

A Vánagandr’s frontal armor could block even a 120 mm tank shell, but while she did feel urged to tell them not to be reckless, she also realized it would be uncalled-for.

But Svenja, who had likely seen the same thing Frederica did, butted into the transmission before she could. And rudely at that.

“Did you see that just now, Eighty-Six?! The Myrmecoleo Regiment’s Vánagandrs will shield you, so remain tucked away and hide in the back row! Our crimson steeds will not allow any sneaky arrows to slip past—”

Frederica shouted back at her. How dare another unit’s Mascot say that to them?!

“Your frontal armor, that is! Your slow, sluggish Vánagandr are good for making a wall, perhaps. And putting everything aside, you haven’t any authority over your own unit, to say nothing of the right to order other units around. Keep your head bowed and your mouth shut, you petty ornament!”

“Eep?!”

Even though she’d shouted at her at the top of her lungs without a hint of reservation, Frederica’s voice was still that of a young girl, barely into her teens. It was still enough to make Svenja jolt and cower audibly enough for Frederica to hear it over the radio. As Frederica cocked an eyebrow, the target of the call switched over to Gilwiese.

“You’re quite right. My apologies if we confused the chain of command. However, I would appreciate it if you could refrain from raising your voice at our Princess. She’s quite sensitive to shouting.”

“…Well, I suppose no harm was done, as none of the Processors were listening to her.”

After all, the Eighty-Six were supposedly used to the Republic’s Handlers occasionally prattling over the Sensory Resonance and radio. They wouldn’t just disregard some unfamiliar Mascot’s words; they wouldn’t lend her an ear to begin with.

With that said, Frederica furrowed the bridge of her eyes. It wouldn’t cause any trouble over the wireless, but…

“However, you tell me not to shout, but it falls on you to educate her on the basics of battlefield behavior. Pay attention to that. And do not ask me to refrain from scolding her for it. You claim to be her brother figure, do you not?”

“…I apologize.”

“…I can see why she’s Captain Nouzen’s ‘younger sister.’ She’s got a good head on her shoulders, Princess.”

After shutting off the radio with a sardonic smile, Gilwiese turned around with some effort, facing the gunner’s seat. They were inside Mock Turtle’s vertical column two-seater cockpit. The seat was too cramped for an adult, but too large for Svenja’s small frame.

Especially now, as she sat curled up and shivering. Gilwiese spoke to her with mindful calm.

“That wasn’t the archduchess shouting at you. It wasn’t the archduchess scolding you. It’s fine. Don’t be afraid.”

“Y-yes…,” she muttered, fearfully raising her head.

The signs of tears and panic were still stark in her golden eyes.

That Mascot girl wouldn’t leave Shin’s side, so he assumed she was some girl who was related to House Nouzen. Or maybe she was involved with Shin’s foster father—the temporary president, Ernst. The president was a soldier before the revolution, and soldiers were either nobles or commoners affiliated with their regiment. Regardless, they were under the governor’s command. So that former governor could have entrusted Shin to care for an illegitimate child. It wasn’t implausible.

Either way, that girl likely came from an Onyx warrior line and also had Pyrope blood running through her veins.

And despite being a Pyrope half-breed, like Svenja, she couldn’t comprehend her terror at being scolded. And she’d even argued a grown adult like Gilwiese down without any signs of fear.

“…No good. I feel… What’s the right word for it? Outraged, I suppose.”

He couldn’t very well fault the Mascot girl for having grown up without ever knowing the taste of the whip. The Onyx didn’t need to engage in selective breeding, and so they had no children who were failed products. Unwanted wastes of effort who had to live while enduring shouts and swears for being worthless parasites.

“B-Brother. Right, we should report to ‘Father,’ in that case. If we were to inform ‘Father’ that this second-rate excuse of a theocracy betrayed us, I’m sure he would deliver retribution—”

“Assuming we could tell him. Princess… The Eintagsfliege are jamming our communications. We can’t contact the Federacy right now.”

“…Ah.”

Standing between them and the Federacy were the Theocracy, the Republic, and the far-west countries, as well as the Legion’s contested zones and territories. The Eintagsfliege were constantly deployed over their territories, their electromagnetic disruption blocking off wireless communication.

In other words, whatever happened to the Expedition Brigade in the Theocracy, the Federacy’s mainland wouldn’t be alerted to it. They had no means of asking the Federacy to bail them out of this situation or apply pressure on the Theocracy.

The Strike Package, and originally the Republic, employed the Sensory Resonance. A mechanical recreation of a sliver of Marquess Maika’s ability. They failed to fully reproduce the ability, of course, but the device did allow communications that ignored distance and the Eintagsfliege’s disruption.

But it was, when all was said and done, just a machine. Someone in the Federacy had to have a RAID Device set to communicate with the 1st Armored Division, and they needed to have it on at this very moment. And even if Gilwiese and Svenja did inform someone in the Federacy, it would take time for help to arrive.

And in the current climate, it was unlikely that the Federacy, even if it was heir to the glorious Giadian Empire, would be willing to enter a war with the Theocracy. Realistically speaking, all they’d lose were two regiments. They wouldn’t start a war just to reclaim them. Especially not the Eighty-Six, who weren’t citizens of the Federacy by birth or had any families that wanted to see them back.

They would be lauded as tragic heroes, and the citizens would clamor about their fate for a time, but once the Federacy announced that they’d cease supporting the Theocracy or make some other sanction, the story would be forgotten before long.

No one would care if a unit of commoners were to die. In the end, the Myrmecoleo Regiment was nothing more than a disposable pawn, for both the Federacy and their lords. Their loss wouldn’t cause anyone any lasting pain.

“…And this is why being a standout unit doesn’t do you any favors.”

“But…what’s the point?” Shin murmured to himself.

It wasn’t something he should have been thinking about in this situation, but it simply made no sense. What was happening probably wouldn’t trigger a war with the Federacy, but it would create antagonism and only worsen the Theocracy’s position.

The Theocracy’s relations with the Federacy, the United Kingdom, and the Alliance would sour, and they would lose any future support they were set to receive. And while it wouldn’t be as severe as the Republic’s case, they would still be branded pariahs for forcing child soldiers into combat… And all they’d gain in exchange for that was two armored regiments.

It didn’t even out.

No, even before considering that, to begin with…

“…Why are they doing this now?”

That was the part that stuck out to Lena. After all, the Halcyon had only been forced into temporary immobility due to overheating. It was the menacing massive gun held against the Theocracy’s temple; eliminating it should have been their top priority. And not only was it still at large, but their armies were also still locked in combat with the Legion’s frontline forces.

So why would they betray the Federacy Expedition Brigade and risk fighting on two fronts—even if one of the armies they’d be fighting was that much weaker? Why betray them now? There was nothing they stood to gain from turning on them here.

Hilnå mentioned achievements and information, but the Federacy Expedition Brigade hadn’t seized the Legion’s control core, to say nothing of eliminating the Halcyon, which was their initial objective. It wouldn’t have been too late to attack them afterward; in fact, if the Theocracy wanted to betray them that badly, they should have done it after they’d completed the mission—when they’d defeated the imminent threat of the Halcyon and possibly gotten hold of confidential information or the railgun’s wreckage.

After the operation concluded, the Expedition Brigade would be fatigued and unguarded. If the Theocracy were to attack them later tonight, when they were out of their Reginleifs, even the Eighty-Six would be captured without much resistance. Yes, even from the perspective of seizing the Eighty-Six themselves, turning on them after the operation was complete would have netted the Theocracy so much more for that much less of an effort.

In which case, why? Why do it now and go to the trouble of inflicting needless losses on each other?

All the corridors they raced down had no signs of soldiers or guards. They made their way toward the base’s hangar. The machine pistols they’d been given only had a limited number of bullets each, due to them having to be hidden, but they arrived without having fired a single one.

They gazed outside and saw the ashen open air leading up to the shutter. They couldn’t cross through that terrain without protective clothing.

“Get into Vanadis!”

It was then that Lena received a transmission through the Para-RAID. It was from the captain of the HQ guard squadron, which they’d left behind as a reserve unit.

“We diced to come pick you up before you even called for us! Send me a transmission once you’re all in; we’re breaking through the shutter!”

“Yes, thank you!”

A subdriver climbed onto Vanadis’s driver’s seat and revved up the engine. Without even checking that everyone had grabbed onto something, he unflinchingly stomped on the pedal.

“Second Lieutenant Nana!”

“Aye, ma’am!”

Two heavy machine guns let out a high-pitched screech reminiscent of an electric saw. Its bullets tore through the metallic shutter in a matter of seconds. With the gunfire ceasing a moment later, Vanadis dived through the hole in the shutter with a shrill, loud bang.

Metallic fragments flew into the air. Inside the hangar, the Reginleifs greeted their queen’s carriage, forming a defensive formation around it in the blink of an eye.

The sight of uniformed figures, carrying assault rifles, finally filing into the hangar, filled Vanadis’s monitor.

Kurena could see the sight of Mika’s unit, Bluebell, being blown away right below her through the Trauerschwan’s optical sensor.

“Mika!”

It wasn’t a direct hit on the cockpit. Her unit wasn’t heavily damaged, either. But she was definitely injured. With its left flank torn away, Bluebell was stranded in place, and a consort unit approached it with a Juggernaut to tow it away. And even as they did, pearl-gray units closed in on them.

A transmission had just come in, informing that Rito was also injured and had to retreat to the back of the line. Kurena could only sit idly by, clenching her fists inside Gunslinger’s cockpit, which had both its front and rear legs fixed into the giant railgun’s cockpit block.

“…Why?”

They did this for some bastards who would trick and use them. To horrible people who would try to push the difficulty and pain of battle onto someone else and pretend it didn’t exist.

Why is it always us?

She suddenly realized that the dense lump of emotion she’d been carrying in her heart was anger. It didn’t seethe in her chest, nor did it burn in the pit of her stomach. It was cold and hard, like a foreign object that was stuck inside her and wouldn’t go away. Like a frozen, clotted poison that clung to her from within.

It was an indignation that had been smoldering within her all throughout the Eighty-Sixth Sector and ever since.

“Why do we…always have to be the ones who fight…?!”

Protected by a squadron of Reginleifs, Vanadis escaped the corps command center and moved into the ashen wasteland. Vanadis wasn’t without means of self-defense, but its 120 mm chain gun and heavy machine guns lacked power. Its mobility was also a far cry from what the Reginleifs were capable of. As such, the command vehicle wasn’t meant for combat, and they needed to avoid any and all engagements.

The same held true for the guard squadron, which had been left behind as minimal backup in case of emergency. They sprinted through the ashen terrain, hiding behind any hills they could find so as to avoid combat with the Theocracy military. They had to search for some way to break through the corps’s encirclement and try to regroup with the rest of their forces.

They’d managed to escape the enemy’s base, but if Lena and the others were to be captured again, they could be used as hostages to pressure the Eighty-Six. And they also needed to collect the Armée Furieuse technicians and maintenance crew, who were located fifteen kilometers away. Lena could only pray they were fine.

“Second Lieutenant Oriya, Second Lieutenant Michihi! What’s your status?!” Lena asked them through the Para-RAID.

“We’re completely surrounded, Colonel!”

“The 3rd Division and the ambush regiment lines are thin at three o’clock! We’re trying to break through from there!”

Frederica then chimed in with another report.

“The Theocracy’s 2nd Army Corps is also beginning to move in our direction. They are still engaging the Legion, however, so they cannot contribute to the siege… Having walked about the Theocracy’s officers and soldiers while playing the part of an innocent child has proved to be useful.”

That last comment made Lena blink a few times, as inappropriate as it may have been in this strained situation.

“Frederica… You can understand the Theocracy’s language?”

Her ability allowed her to see the past and present of anyone she was acquainted with, but as far as Lena was aware of, it required that she at least knew their name and had exchanged words with them.

“Well enough to hold a basic conversation. I’ve spoken to them, but I’ve made it seem as if I cannot understand them very well. Like I said, I played the part of an innocent child, grinning as a helpless girl might in a foreign land. I repeated my name like an infant until they realized my intention and gave their own, and that was enough for my ability to work… This land is much too far from the Republic and the Federacy, after all. I presumed it would not hurt to err on the side of caution.”

She likely didn’t expect outright betrayal, but Frederica did assume that some kind of misunderstanding or miscommunication could lead to an unexpected situation.

“Have I proved myself useful, Vladilena?”

“Of course you have, Frederica… Thank you. You’re a huge help.”

She could feel Frederica nod in satisfaction. Lena, however, carefully considered her information. The 2nd Army Corps was moving in. Two regiments couldn’t very well be expected to hold back an entire country’s army. In terms of both time wasted and the airborne battalion’s fatigue and remaining ammo, they couldn’t let this last too long…

“—But, Colonel, wait.”

Someone interjected. It was Mitsuda, one of the commanders of the artillery-configuration Reginleif battalions. His voice had a hint of disgruntlement that he didn’t try to hide, though it wasn’t directed at Lena herself. He then carried on, his tone calmer and more collected.

“Let’s say we have Shin’s group pull back from the Halcyon. Can’t we return after that?”

Lena stiffened and swallowed nervously. Mitsuda continued.

“I mean, Shin’s group temporarily stopped the Halcyon, but it’s still intact. If we just leave it there, won’t the Theocracy’s people have their hands full taking care of it? They called the Federacy for help because it was too much for them to handle, after all. So while they’re occupied with taking it out on their own, we can go home.”

This would save them from having to pointlessly fight the Theocracy, which would prevent them from taking needless losses in that battle.

“Well…”

Could they do that? Yes. It would take some effort, but they could help Shin and the airborne battalion escape, evacuate the front lines in the chaos that would ensue, and leave the Theocracy. They’d have to blow up the Armée Furieuse and the Trauerschwan to dispose of them and not leave them behind to be seized by the enemy. But compared with fighting a hopeless battle against an enemy nation, it would save countless lives.

Mitsuda then spoke in a detached tone, making no effort to hide the bottomless disgust and resentment he felt.

“Yes, we take pride in fighting to the very end. And sure, if the Federacy wants to take advantage of our will to persevere, we’ll let them, so long as they help us to do it… But that doesn’t mean we want them to use us like it’s nothing, to force us into being martyrs for them.”

Upon hearing these words, Michihi shivered like a person who’d just had her thoughts read out loud. Rito tried to deny it, though part of him had to wonder about that. And Kurena simply agreed from the bottom of her heart.

That same doubt, frustration, and indignation smoldered in the heart of each of the Eighty-Six and was awakened by those words. After all, did they have a duty to fight for people like these? Or at least, for people like these, too? Just because fighting to the very end was in their nature, just because they took pride in doing so, it didn’t mean they would simply roll over and comply. When someone tricked them, turned their guns on them, and demanded they fight their battles for them, they had the right to refuse.

To begin with, they didn’t fight to protect anyone or save anything. That was true both in the Eighty-Sixth Sector and outside it. They didn’t fight for the Republic’s white pigs. They did it for their pride and their comrades.

They wouldn’t run, and they wouldn’t give up. They would fight to the very end, to the last breath they would sigh in their final moment—abiding to their pride as Eighty-Six. And if they ended up protecting the white pigs along the way, well, they wouldn’t like it, but they’d do what they must.

The Federacy used them as a spearhead to destroy key Legion positions, as a diplomatic tool, and as propaganda material. They knew that. The Federacy’s citizens only saw the Eighty-Six through the media and the news and thought they were some tragic heroes to be glorified. But on the other hand, the Federacy gave them much in return, so they accepted this begrudgingly.

But they didn’t want to be tools or propaganda material, and they definitely didn’t want to be seen as heroes. They only ever fought for themselves. For their pride, for the kind of person they wanted to be and what they believed in. Not for other people.

And that was why, now that they’d left the Eighty-Sixth Sector, they wouldn’t fight for people like these. Not now, or ever. So if they didn’t fight here…if they just abandoned these people who left them to their fate…there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that…right?

But the doubt that stirred the Eighty-Six for that one moment was torn apart. It was like the decisive slash of a razor-sharp blade.

“Undertaker to Vanadis.”

His clear, serene voice reached their ears—

“The airborne unit will resume its mission, as initially decided. We’ll keep the battle zone under control until the Trauerschwan’s in position.”

—declaring they would not abort the operation.

Lena, Kurena, and the child soldiers whispered his name, as if snapping out of a dream. They all held different feelings, but they all equally mouthed the name of the headless Reaper who once reigned over the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s battlefield. Of the war god who once led them.

“Shin…”

They hadn’t eliminated the Halcyon yet. The operation was still underway.

The rain of buckshot forced them to keep clear of the Halcyon, but as he fought to once again close the distance, he continued speaking. Resonating with the entire armored division made his head throb, but he could bear it for a little longer.

Shin knew how they felt. He hated it as much as they did. He didn’t want to fight for people who were no better than the Republic’s white pigs, much less die for them. Especially now, when they’d come to realize they had the right to refuse… The right to say they didn’t want to die.

However…

“I understand your anger. But if we ignore the Halcyon, it could appear on the Federacy’s front next. And if we don’t seize a commander unit’s control core—the Legion’s confidential information and the railgun itself—the Federacy won’t have a future. This isn’t an operation where we can afford to be consumed by our emotions and quit.”

They couldn’t forsake their chance to live on out of anger and indignation. Their lives simply weren’t fickle and transient enough to allow for that anymore.

The Halcyon’s control core wasn’t an Imperial officer. Neither was the Noctiluca’s core, nor were the “Shanas” that operated the railguns. None of them had the information the Federacy needed the most. But even so.

Mitsuda spoke. Not out of dissatisfaction or an intent to argue back, but like a child who’d lost their reason to be stubborn and insistent.

“But, Shin… But…”

“I already said it, Mitsuda. I understand your anger. It’s not misplaced. But it’s not worth gambling our lives over. If things really get dangerous, we’ll consider retreating then.”

“…Roger.”

Mitsuda nodded through the Resonance, albeit still begrudgingly. Having confirmed this, Shin cut the Resonance with the entire unit. As soon as he did, he could clearly feel Raiden’s bitter smirk over the Resonance.

“Well, it’s not like returning from combat is as simple as Mitsuda puts it.”

The airborne unit worked under the assumption that the ground unit would handle eliminating the Legion on the front lines for them. Fighting the Halcyon was one thing, but having to fight their way out of the area with the Halcyon shooting them from behind could be a bit too difficult, especially since they couldn’t count on the Theocracy’s army for help.

“Yeah. All units, you heard me. We’re resuming the operation.”

Everyone in the airborne unit shared Raiden’s stance. None of them voiced any complaints, keeping up a strained sense of tension. The operation resumed. However, who was to say how long they’d have to wait for the Trauerschwan to assume its firing position now?

“Based on the analysis of the cooling system, we might not have to wait for the Trauerschwan to get into position to destroy the Halcyon, and if it’s possible, we’ll do it immediately. Until then, try not to waste ammo if you don’t have to.”

Across both the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s and the Federacy’s battlefield, she followed him. She longed for him in a manner that bordered on religious faith. But listening to him now, Kurena could only react in disbelief.

“Why?”

Why did he keep saying the war was going to end, even in this situation? Why did he insist on having faith in this world? In a world that laughed as it gunned down her mother and father in cold blood? In a world that would sever the arm of an Eighty-Six who had his heart set on fighting to his dying breath?

The white pigs took your family away just the same. You saw Theo lose a hand just like I did. So why? How can you still do it?

For a long time now, there had been a decisive gulf, a crack, that had run between her and Shin. Between Eighty-Six like her and Eighty-Six like Shin. And now she saw it. The wall that stood between those who left the Eighty-Sixth Sector, and those who couldn’t leave it—those who had been left behind.

“Are you going to leave us? Hey…”

Our Reaper. Or so I thought…

Are you going to abandon us?

When we used to be your comrades?

“The airborne unit will resume its mission, as initially decided. We’ll keep the battle zone under control until the Trauerschwan’s in position.”

Of all the things, she never expected this.

Hearing the resolute, dignified words of the Eighty-Six’s captain, Hilnå couldn’t help but widen her eyes and gawk in amazement.

It can’t be. It can’t. The Eighty-Six themselves are saying that? No… After all.

She couldn’t stop the smile worming its way to her lips.

“See? Your war god, your Reaper says it, too, Eighty-Six.”

Neither Lena nor the Eighty-Six could see that smile, but it was terribly warped…and somehow self-deprecating.

“That’s your role. Such is the will of the earth goddess and the fate granted to you by this world. You all know nothing but conflict. You have nowhere else to live. You will live on the battlefield, and there, you will also die. That is the one and only fate in store for you.”

Just like us.

Shin’s words from across the Resonance were things they’d all thought but none of them had put into words. He had no time to debate the matter because the battle with the Halcyon was about to resume, and so Lena spoke in his place.

“All units. You don’t have to see this as saving the Theocracy. You aren’t heroes. You can and should fight for your own reasons.”

Making that call was a commander’s duty. And she didn’t want to have the words he said be held against him.

“And even if you pride yourself on fighting until your dying breath, that doesn’t mean your only purpose is to fight. You’re not drones, and you’re not weapons. And you shouldn’t let that nonsense mislead you! However, we will complete this operation. We will destroy the Halcyon!”

If they were displeased or unhappy, then let it be held against her and not Shin. She was a queen living under the Eighty-Six. In place of never shedding her own blood on the field of battle, she was to remain calmer than her subordinates.

“And to that end, we must first break through this blockade! Cooperate with the Myrmecoleo Regiment and open a gap into the enemy’s encirclement!”

But as soon as she said this, she realized something about this plan was critically off. Breaking through a blockade. A complete encirclement.

Why?

An army is weaker when scattered. A losing army takes the majority of its losses during retreat. And that’s why, as a general rule, one doesn’t assume a formation that wouldn’t allow the enemy to escape at all. When pushed back, people are as prone to panic and defaulting to flight as animals are.

But if their avenue of escape is cut off and death stares them in the face, soldiers are driven to struggle to their last breath. And just like how animals are most dangerous when cornered, soldiers exhibit extraordinary ferocity once liberated from the fetters of inhibition and common sense.

Forcing the enemy into that kind of position would only result in more casualties for the attacking side.

That’s why resorting to surrounding your enemy is looked down upon. Unless one seeks to wipe out the enemy in its entirety, leaving an avenue of escape is essential. If the Theocracy really wanted to absorb the Eighty-Six into their army, blocking Kurena, Michihi, Rito, and the Expedition Brigade’s main force off with a full encirclement made no sense.

And on top of that, there was the odd timing of the surprise attack and the fact that Lena’s group hadn’t run into any of the enemy soldiers until they made their escape. They didn’t hold Lena and the control officers hostage. And the strangest point was that they were going to all this trouble, making enemies out of major powers like the Federacy and the United Kingdom, just for the sake of stealing away two regiments.

What if Hilnå’s objective wasn’t to get the Eighty-Six to surrender? Maybe this situation, full as it was of contradictions and inconsistencies, wasn’t the Theocracy army’s will, but rather…

“…I know you’re tapping into this, Hilnå,” Lena said in a low voice, changing the radio’s transmission to the Theocracy command center’s wavelength.

Her tone was very much one of suppressed anger, as if she wouldn’t feel whole with herself without saying this final comment.

“You heard what I just said, right? You’re wrong, Hilnå. The Eighty-Six remain on the battlefield because of their pride—not because it’s their fate. They don’t fight because they believe conflict to be their only path. They’re fighting to end this war!”

“No. We’re not,” Kurena spat out bitterly.

Because it was Lena speaking, she wasn’t as annoyed as she could have been. But had anyone else said those words, she would have been furious.

They weren’t fighting to end the war. Not all Eighty-Six thought the way Shin did. Lena just said that because she was around Shin all the time. He wanted to end the war, and Lena looked to him first and foremost.

Of course, Kurena thought that the end of this damnable war would be a good thing, too. She wanted to see Shin’s dream realized—to see the war come to an end. But if it ended, she wouldn’t have a place next to him, and she wouldn’t be able to help him anymore.

But…

Kurena was confused by the way her thoughts were going around in circles. What did she want to do, really? The answer was quite simple. She wanted things to stay the way they were. To help Shin and all their comrades, here on the battlefield. At least here, she knew where she belonged…where she stood. Shin was so much more at ease now than he was in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, and spending their days with their comrades was so much more pleasant. And to that end…

She recalled something Theo told her once.

It almost sounds like you don’t want the war to end.

At the time, she said that wasn’t what she meant. But that wasn’t true.

It actually was what she meant.

“Does the war have to end…?”

I…

But as those words came to mind, something reached her ears like the rumbling of thunder that followed a blinding flash of lightning. As the flash tore through the night, this rumble shook the firmament.

“No!”

It was Hilnå.

“That cannot be! I cannot believe a Republic citizen, one of those takers, has the gall to say that!”

Hilnå shouted, as if billowing righteous fire at this argent queen who dared speak as if she knew it all.

You don’t understand it. You’ve never understood the feelings of those who had everything taken from them—the utter fixation with which they cling to the only thing they have left.

“Fate must have driven the Eighty-Six! After all, were they not cast out from their motherland, the Republic, and forced to live on the battlefield? If war deprived them of anything and everything, if they had nothing but the scars of that deprivation to their name…then they cannot shed that fate! They cannot heal those scars!”

Without even realizing it, she’d grabbed hard onto her commanding baton. It felt as if that old nightmare was coming to life right before her very eyes.

Even ten years later, she still remembered the atrocity that overtook her family all too clearly.

“Because I’m the same! The same has happened to me! I could never forget the saints who propped me up to be a tragic figurehead! I won’t forget what the Theocracy has done, how they turned me into a saint of war to ensure our people’s unity in the face of calamity!”

“What are you talking about—?”

“My family, House Rèze, were all slain by the Legion at the beginning of the war.”

She could hear Lena’s breath catch in her throat.

House Rèze—a bloodline of saints. Whenever war broke out, it was the duty of the members of House Rèze to serve as corps commanders or division commanders. But such commanders couldn’t have possibly all been slain so soon after the war started.

“A young saint, with her entire family wiped out by the damnable Legion. Despite being a fragile adolescent girl, she would bring judgment upon the Legion. The symbol of the Theocracy, fighting nobly with anger in her heart. That’s what they sought to make me into, and to do that…the Theocracy army abandoned my family.”

The corps command center was attacked by the Legion. The base’s escort unit was drawn away from the command center at the time coincidentally due to mistaken orders, and the rescue unit was coincidentally stalled by an unforeseen ambush of Legion, failing to arrive on time.

At the time, young Hilnå was speaking to her family through a transmission. Her grandmother—the corps commander—her mother, her father, her grandfather, and her siblings—division commanders and staff officers—and her uncle and her aunt.

And despite it only being through a transmission, she had to watch as her entire family was brutally slain.

The other saints called Hilnå over earlier that day. She was too young to enter the integrated command center herself, and she opened the transmission just that once so she could talk to her mother. And these saints stood aside, watching as she bore witness to the murder of her family.

She would never forget them. That nightmare. The things she saw. The vile, callous faces of her countrymen.

“My father, my mother, my grandmother, my uncle, and my brothers and sisters were all torn apart by the Legion. And the saints who allowed it to happen…said they made a painful decision and sacrificed so much, only to have overcome this torturous trial. They shed tears of joy all the while, drunk on their own sublimity.”

“My homeland stole my family from me, and so I will never love this country again. I have nothing but my fate as the saint of war, and the scars it etched upon me are something I won’t let anyone take away. I can never relinquish them!”

Kurena felt as if the things Hilnå just said were shouted at her by her reflection in the mirror. The girl she’d thought was the same as the white pigs, the very personification of all that was wrong with the world, was just like them. She was a mirror image of the Eighty-Six.

She was a child who’d been denied her family and birthplace. She was a girl who had the war effort forced upon her. She was an infant left with nothing but this fate—this pride to live on the field of battle.

It was as if Hilnå had just popped the cork on everything she had been keeping bottled up, her golden eyes burning furiously.

Yes, that’s right. Hilnå’s right.

After having everything else taken away from her, Kurena couldn’t let go of the one thing that gave her a sense of identity. Even if that something was her scars. Especially not…

“Don’t tell me you can’t understand that. You should be the last person trying to take this away from me.”

Shin should have carried those same scars. And he knew she didn’t want to lose them, to have even that taken away.

You know I can’t wish for the future, so…I don’t want the war to end.

Don’t take that away from me.

I can only exist on the battlefield. Don’t force me to leave the one place I belong.

Hilnå’s cry was like a scream. It was the scream of a helpless infant who had finally, finally found solidarity in another lost child. And now she was clinging to that ally, weeping and refusing to let go.

“I’m sure you of all people would know! You child soldiers who’ve been forced to become living ghosts, wandering the battlefield and feeding on war! And you, the Headless Reaper who has been forced to offer salvation in a battlefield forsaken by the gods! You know that the world only takes and never gives! You know that raising up banners of virtue like justice and righteousness hold no meaning!”

Shin looked at the ground. There was a time when he felt the same way. Justice and righteousness held no meaning. He’d felt this back in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, in the Spearhead squadron’s barracks, where he was predestined to die a meaningless death six months later.

At the time, he didn’t doubt it. He thought it was simply an eventuality, a truth of the world.

And here Hilnå was, saying the same things now. She was just like the Eighty-Six—a child cast out onto the field of battle by humanity’s malice. She now held up the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s truth as her banner.

Standing still and refusing to move. Trapped within the confines of that battlefield. Letting her scars consume her, rather than allowing them to heal.

And Lena, on her end, stood there with her eyes widened in shock. She was positive of it. What Hilnå had just said was…

A new blip appeared in one of Vanadis’s holo-windows, which had a map of the area displayed on it. The radar systems of the Reginleifs that were currently surrounded by the enemy identified that new unit, and they somehow managed to transmit it to Vanadis, despite the electromagnetic interference.

It did return an IFF signature. The was the scout platoon of the Theocracy’s 2nd Army Corps, I Thafaca. Upon seeing it, Lena called out to the unit they were about to make contact with—one of the Scimitar squadron’s units.

“Gremlin!”

The Theocracy’s unexpected betrayal, the interference of the ash in the air, and the knowledge that the airborne battalion was isolated behind enemy lines. All those came together to form confusion and panic, smoldering in the stomach of Gremlin’s Processor. And that was why when the proximity alert blared through the cockpit, they could only gasp in surprise.

They kicked away the Lyano-Shu creeping closer to them, but upon looking away, they suddenly spotted the bulky silhouette of a Fah-Maras behind the curtain of ash. Its canopy swung open, and a human figure jumped out. Their insignia was that of a six-winged bird of prey—the Theocracy’s 2nd Army Corps.

They’re this close?!

The Processor’s panic finally brought their thoughts to a boiling point. They reflexively fixed their machine gun’s sights on the soldier clad in pearl-gray protective clothing, who, for whatever reason, hurriedly waved their hands in the air.

“Gremlin!” Lena shouted at them through the Sensory Resonance. “Don’t shoot!”

“?!”

They reflexively moved the muzzle, jumping away so as to not be shot first and creating distance between them. Only then did they fully realize that the soldier had disembarked their unit, discarding their means of attacking them. The soldier pointed repeatedly at their formless, masked, and goggled face, to which the Processor understood their intent and switched the frequency over to the Theocracy’s wavelength.

The electronic interference that’d been weaved around the 3rd Army Corps failed to extend this far. The radio crackled loudly with static noise, and a young voice—not so far from the Processor’s own age—spoke to them, stuttering in the Republic’s tongue.

“We are not your enemies! Hear us out, Eighty-Six!”

After hearing this through the Resonance, Lena confirmed that her suspicion was correct.

So it really is just…

“Hilnå. This entire plot… You’re the only one behind it, aren’t you?”

This wasn’t the Theocracy deciding to betray the Federacy. Hilnå was doing it on her own.

Their battle with the Theocracy’s 8th Division and ambush regiment continued, but Michihi was still beset by confusion and doubt. And the longer the fighting went on, the more pronounced her inner conflict grew.

It was probably because she’d heard Lena’s conversation regarding Hilnå’s past. It felt like the girl’s story echoed her own. It was the same absurdity that ruined the Eighty-Six’s lives. Ten years ago, when the Legion War broke out, Michihi and her comrades were all young children. They were suddenly cast out to the internment camps, where they were torn from their parents, grandparents, and siblings. They were sentenced to battle as parts of a drone and forced to fight and die all so that the Republic’s Alba could reap the benefits.

Every one of them had been cruelly deprived of their homes and families, of the innocence that allowed one to even dream of a future.

And that happened here, too. In this country far to the west. And maybe it was happening everywhere.

What am I fighting, really?

That doubt made Michihi’s hands cramp up. She realized she wasn’t moving the controls or pulling the trigger as fast as usual, but she couldn’t help it. It felt like she was fighting her own reflection in the mirror, and even a seasoned Eighty-Six soldier such as herself was hesitating.

I can’t think about that. I have to focus on breaking this blockade and getting away.

She shook her head, somehow swallowing an outburst of childish helplessness that made her want to cry.

The Fah-Maras under the enemy unit’s commander were accompanied by a force of Lyano-Shu drones. If she were to destroy the Fah-Maras commanding them, the Lyano-Shu would be stopped at once, so the fastest way of ending this would be to aim at the Fah-Maras.

But both Michihi and her comrades all concentrated on destroying the Lyano-Shu instead. Rather than aiming at the manned unit, they instead focused fire on the remote-controlled extensions. They didn’t want to kill other people. Fighting to the very end may have been their pride, but that didn’t mean they were willing to murder others.

Having spent their lives warring against the Legion, this was the Eighty-Six’s first battle against fellow humans. This wasn’t a fight they wanted any part in.

They didn’t want to stoop to murder.

Another Lyano-Shu fixed its recoilless gun’s sights on her. If she were to jump away like she usually did, her legs would get caught in the ash. Forcefully fastening her cramped grip on the control sticks, she decided to stand her ground and turned her autocannon’s muzzle.

The Reginleif’s gun turret was limited in terms of its elevation degree, but it was capable of revolving. It was faster than the Theocracy’s units, which had to turn their entire frames along with their turrets.

She squeezed the trigger.

The shells hit their target, focusing on the joints of its forelegs first. As the enemy unit lost its footing, it crumpled down, and Michihi finished it off with another barrage. Aiming at the legs first was Michihi’s usual combat style, honed through fighting the Legion, who were far more agile than the Juggernauts.

While 40 mm autocannon fire was powerful, it lacked the destructive force of an 88 mm tank shell. The autocannon fire tore the Lyano-Shu apart, but it still retained its shape. But then its frontal armor flew open, like a cockpit’s canopy. And from within it rolled a small hand, like the tattered arm of a doll.

Huh…?!

Michihi widened her eyes in horror.

It was the small hand of a child. Was this…a self-propelled mine? But what would a Legion unit be doing inside a Lyano-Shu?

Michihi was beyond confused. Thoughts flooded her mind in a state of uncontrollable mayhem. The reality of what she just had witnessed was beyond doubt and required no further clarity, yet she refused to believe her eyes all the same. Her instincts drove her to reject the realization—screaming at her to deny the truth.

The Lyano-Shu’s frontal armor—no, its canopy—popped off. And inside, lying inside the cockpit that had been torn apart by autocannon fire…

…were the remains of a little girl, not even ten years of age.