Copyright

86—EIGHTY-SIX
Vol. 5

ASATO ASATO

Translation by Roman Lempert

Cover art by Shirabii

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.

86—Eighty-Six—Ep. 5
©Asato Asato 2018
Edited by Dengeki Bunko
First published in Japan in 2018 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION,
Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA
CORPORATION, Tokyo, through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC.,
Tokyo.

English translation © 2020 by Yen Press, LLC

Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value
of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and
artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without

permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you
would like permission to use material from the book (other than
for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for
your support of the author’s rights.

Yen On
150 West 30th Street, 19th Floor
New York, NY 10001

Visit us at yenpress.com
facebook.com/yenpress
twitter.com/yenpress
yenpress.tumblr.com
instagram.com/yenpress

First Yen On Edition: August 2020

Yen On is an imprint of Yen Press, LLC.

The Yen On name and logo are trademarks of Yen Press, LLC.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content)

that are not owned by the publisher

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Asato, Asato, author. | Shirabii, illustrator. | Lempert,
Roman, translator.
Title: 86—eighty-six / Asato Asato ; illustration by Shirabii ;
translation by Roman Lempert.
Other titles: 86—eighty-six. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2019–
Identifiers: LCCN 2018058199 | ISBN 9781975303129 (v. 1 : pbk.)
| ISBN 9781975303143 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975303112 (v.
3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975303167 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN
9781975399252 (v. 5 : pbk.)
Subjects: CYAC: Science fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A79 .A18 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018058199

ISBNs: 978-1-9753-9925-2 (paperback)

978-1-9753-1420-0 (ebook)
E3-20200714-JV-NF-ORI
 Contents

Cover
Title Page
Insert
Copyright
Epigraph

Prologue: The King of Corpses

Chapter 1: Melancholy of Monsters
Chapter 2: Citadel of the Swans
Chapter 3: Deaf to the Songbirds’ Lament
Chapter 4: Ex Machina
Epilogue: Flowers Bloom Not on Snowy Fields

Afterword
Yen Newsletter
May even death not do us part.

—VIKTOR IDINAROHK, ARTIFICIAL FAIRY OUTLINE

 PROLOGUE

THE KING OF CORPSES

Arcs Styrie, capital of the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia for the
past millennium. At its northernmost tip sat the royal palace, its
throne room currently dim, as if to symbolize the absence of the
sun’s blessing upon this northern land.
However, contrary to the impression the term northern land
may give to some, Roa Gracia was an affluent nation. Though its
climate was ill-suited for cultivating grain or fruit common in the
south, its lands were fertile, were graced with large rivers, and
possessed rich mineral veins. A chandelier crafted from such
minerals—gold and diamonds—cast a brilliant glow on the
resplendent decor of the throne room. The light accentuated the
shadows of the princes and princesses present.
The United Kingdom was a militaristic country, and as such, all
members of the aristocracy were men and women of war. At the
same time, this country was the last remaining despotic monarchy
on the continent. It was a nation that still adhered to its archaic
system of values.
The very personification of those beliefs, the king, began to
speak from his throne. He wore a crisp military uniform, and his
whitening reddish-brown hair and amethyst eyes marked him as a
Viola, the race that had lived in the Kingdom since antiquity, as
well as an Amethysta, one of noble birth.
 His authoritative tone rolled like thunder, deep and grave,
lending credence to his title as king of the frozen north.
“Viktor, my son.”
“Father.”
The one who answered him was a young prince in his late
teens, standing on the stairs leading up to the throne. While
normally one would kneel when in audience with the king, his
royal privilege allowed him to stand upright before him. His
reddish-black hair resembled the coloring of a bird of prey, and his
eyes were purple lightning. While purple eyes were the key
identifier of the Amethysta, his hue of violet was especially
pronounced.
His hair was the dark, blackish red of eagle plumage hardy
enough to withstand the unforgiving northern winter, his eyes the
Imperial violet of the gemstones yielded by the Dragon Corpse
mountain range, which stood as the shield of the country. His
countenance was equal parts elegance and sharpness, the
features of a monster made of ice.
He was the fifth prince, Viktor Idinarohk: the eighteen-year-old
commander of the United Kingdom’s southern front—the front
lines of the war against the Legion—and the youngest child of the
current king.
“Our ally, the Federal Republic of Giad, has formed an
independent detachment by the name of the Eighty-Sixth Strike
Package. Do you know of them?”
“Yes, Father. They are an elite unit with the express purpose of
suppressing key Legion territories and thinning their ranks. During
their first battle, they struck at a Legion production site within San
Magnolia and pushed back the enemy lines.”
The prince replied to the sudden question without hesitation.
He’d returned from the front lines, where information was limited
and scarce, only a day ago, and it was a question regarding a
single unit from another country. Yet he answered as if it were
simple arithmetic.
“They failed to capture a Weisel and an Admiral as they were
ordered, allowed the escape of the new High-Mobility type,
Phönix, and took considerable losses from the new Sheepdogs, so
their first mission can be seen as a failure… But they did
accomplish their primary objective. And their dragging the two
new Legion types to the fray ahead of time is a great
achievement. If nothing else, it granted our country sufficient time
to develop countermeasures.”
“Indeed.”
As his eyes glinted like blades, the king nodded his head,
which sat atop his chiseled physique. A grave, earnest nod.
“It has been decided our United Kingdom will cooperate with
that unit. The contents of said cooperation will be an exchange of
technologies and dispatching of personnel… Vika—you will be
joining them. Go forth and eradicate the Legion.”
“Ah yes, Father. I will be off.”

Opposite the resplendent, imposing throne sat a host of

retainers.

Could you go run a little errand for me?

Sure thing, Dad.

It was as simple as that.

As the other princes looked on, trying to restrain their
exasperation, the two continued their exchange.
“The coming operation will see the brunt of our forces on the
second line, but after that we should have the leisure to dispatch
forces to your aid. How many would you like?”
“I’ll be just fine with my personal unit. The Strike Package is a
brigade-size force as is, and I doubt any front really has the
leisure to send away any of its forces.”
Which, when simply put, translated to…
Well, while you’re at it, why don’t you use the change to treat
yourself to something?
Nah, Dad, it’s fine.
This was the true, casual nature of their conversation.
The prince, incidentally, was clad not in the United Kingdom’s
collared violet-and-black uniform…but in a normal black school
uniform. His schoolbag sat at his feet.
 He looked as if he had just returned home.
In fact, near the entrance to the audience chamber, the grand
chamberlain was cradling his head in his hands after he’d
frantically and fruitlessly begged the prince to at least let him put
away his schoolbag.
This was not offhand negligence. This luxurious castle and its
many retainers were a mere backdrop for this king and his child,
the prince. There was no need to stand on ceremony or jump
through hoops to appear dignified. This was a simple show of
power.
The prime minister, who stood near the throne, bowed his
head. He had light-purple eyes, graying hair reminiscent of fox fur,
and a white beard. Despite being a Taaffe, a second-class citizen,
this old retainer had climbed up the ranks with wit and
intelligence and served the court since the former king’s rule. He’d
already grown used to the royals’ insolent conduct.
“If I may speak freely, Your Majesty, Prince Viktor and his
Songbirds are the crux of our national defense. Will we be able to
maintain our defensive lines in his absence?”
“Refrain, minister. If my presence or lack thereof are what our
ability to hold the line leans on, it would stand as evidence of
negligence on the side of our men, to say nothing of yourself. I
say take this opportunity to fortify yourselves.”
Without even sparing him a glance, the prince cut down the
prime minister’s words. The old retainer smiled and bowed his
head deeper. The decision to deploy forces to the Strike Package,
as well as which personnel would go, had already been approved
by the Imperial council. This was all to make said decisions
known, as some of the princes lacked the privilege to take part in
the council, and the minister’s words represented the doubts they
all held.
As such, this audience was done with the implicit
understanding that this was the case, but there would always be
those who were dense to the atmosphere. Following the minister’s
statement, objections rose from among the princes’ and
princesses’ lines.
“Father! This war with the Legion is all Viktor’s fault to begin
with! Giving this insane Serpent of Shackles any further
responsibilities is simply—”
“Silence, Boris! Who gave you permission to speak?”
A single bellow from the throne made the third prince shrink
back as if he’d been struck by lightning. The stifled chuckling of
the first princess and the court warblers of her clique echoed
through the room, along with the sound of the second prince—
who was the third prince’s de facto superior—clicking his tongue.
After watching his son, his own flesh and blood, go back to the
line, the king returned his gaze to his youngest child with a
teasing smile.
“If one were to tally all your accomplishments up till now, not
only would your right to the throne be restored, but your place in
the succession order would surely rise above that of Boris.”
“I’ll be just fine without that. The status would just be a pain.
You can have the credit go to Brother Zafar, as always.”
Speaking in a manner that was all too unfitting in the presence
of the king, without so much as a hint of reservation, the prince
cast his gaze backward.
“…If that’s all, can I go? I haven’t been to school in a while,
and I have a mountain of work to get through.”
The king smiled wryly and waved his hand, as if shooing the
boy away.
“Very well… Try to finish it before supper. I long to hear your
stories of the front lines.”
“By your will, Father.”
It was only now that the prince bowed in a very elegant
fashion and turned to leave. His footsteps clicked loudly against
the throne room’s floor, which was elaborately designed with a
crystalline, five-colored pattern of a butterfly’s wings. The
moment before he left the room, someone’s voice drowned out
the sound of his footsteps.
“…You damnable, doll-obsessed King of Corpses…!”
Whoever said it certainly intended for the prince to hear it, but
it was still a somewhat restrained vilification. Regarding the owner
of the voice with a sneer, the prince left the throne room.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by the faintly medicinal

scent of mixed black tea and his older brother’s smile.
“Welcome home, Vika… Though you returned to the castle the
night prior, no?”
“Ah, Brother Zafar. Yes, I arrived late, so I didn’t have time to
greet you.”
Vika addressed his eldest brother, who was currently pouring
him a cup of tea with a childish grin. It was Zafar Idinarohk—the
crown prince of the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia. They were in
his personal chamber, which was built of marble gorgeously inlaid
with amber and was decorated with polished ebony furniture.
The brothers were quite similar, but a ten-year age gap
granted Zafar’s features a certain well-formed symmetry and his
voice the pitch of a fine instrument. His reddish-black hair, which
was now held back with a thin silk ribbon and an emerald hairpin,
was the same as his younger brother’s, as were his Imperial violet
eyes.
Sitting down in the opposite chair as prompted, Vika watched
as a chamberlain set tea snacks and sugared, boiled rose petals
on the table with the acute motions of a mechanical doll. As the
chamberlain left the room, Vika asked, “Is the situation really that
bad?”
As Zafar observed him wordlessly, Vika shrugged and went on:
“When I’m on the front lines, I’m unable to stay abreast of
every little thing that goes on in the Kingdom. Not retreating
during that last large-scale offensive was honestly the most we
could manage.”
“Given how badly you’re struggling, surely you realize the war
situation’s gotten critical… We have the results of the staff
officers’ preliminary calculations.”
Elegantly lifting a silver spoonful of sugared petals to his
mouth, Zafar lingered on the fragrance and refined sweetness. He
then continued.
“At this rate, we won’t make it to next spring.”
Vika’s expression did not waver in the slightest.
“So that’s why they swallowed their pride and asked Giad—the
country that had its land stolen by the common folk—for help.
‘Technology exchange’ and ‘personnel dispatch’ are just excuses
used to sugarcoat their fragile ego,” Vika scoffed. “…Trivial
rubbish. The Imperial council is nothing more than a gathering of
self-aggrandizing crones.”
“What would the royalty have left if you took away their vanity,
Vika? Have them dress in rags and they’ll learn soon enough that
nobility and splendor are but an illusion.”
So said the crown prince. The blood running through his veins,
cultivated by dozens of generations over one thousand years,
boasted unparalleled beauty. The dignity with which he lifted his
porcelain cup was enough to cause anyone to regard him as an
aristocrat with a single glance.
Observing the younger prince, who could have been posing for
a royal portrait, Zafar continued.
“As you’ve said before, the Federacy is under considerable
pressure itself, even if not quite to the same extent. They’re the
ones who asked for assistance with their operation, and they’re
also the ones who took the bait when we proposed the
technology exchange.”
The Federacy had maintained the largest territory and
population since the war with the Legion had broken out, and it
likely still maintained the strongest position out of all the other
countries. Despite being a former world power, the United
Kingdom paled in comparison when it came to land and
population. And still, the United Kingdom had lost only half of the
Dragon Corpse mountain range and had maintained its defensive
line since, an achievement the Federacy was likely eager to learn
the truth behind.
Perhaps they expected a new weapon or possibly a new kind
of strategy. Whatever it was, they expected it to help defend their
country. And knowing that, Zafar smiled thinly.
“Yes. Your repulsive, if lovely, little Songbirds.”
“I doubt the Federacy would make use of them if they learned
how they worked… That’s probably why, isn’t it?”
Given the technology wouldn’t be of any use to the Federacy, it
would hardly be missed even if the United Kingdom did hand it
over. That was why that overly prideful minister of technology had
okayed it. Humans really are as sinful as can be, Vika thought.
Even in a situation where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, they were
still absorbed in petty rivalries.
 “The Federacy had other reasons to ask for cooperation. So be
it…,” said Zafar. “There was another condition in our agreement
with them that Father didn’t voice in the audience chamber. We
will give that to them without fail. No complaints, I hope?”
“…The Merciless Queen.”
“‘Come find me,’ it said. The message to the Strike Package
officer must have held a great deal of meaning. A remonstrance
for submission or some sort of negotiation. Perhaps it will try to
provide some kind of information… It may sound like wishful
thinking, but the chances of it wanting to end the conflict now
that it has spread to its own homeland aren’t exactly zero, you
know.”
“Yes, I suppose there’s no guarantee she wasn’t some
eccentric Imperial, and she may have set a safety net or two in
case things go awry. But that’s all it is. I’m surprised the Federacy
went along with it.”
“So long as there is a chance Ms. Birkenbaum is involved,
that’s all they need to know. If nothing else, they might draw the
Legion’s tactical algorithm out of her… And the only remaining
person capable of making such judgment calls regarding her
character is, at this point, you alone.”
“I haven’t spoken to her that much. If anything, the Republic’s
researchers knew her better… Oh. But they were Eighty-Six, no?
In which case, they no longer number among the living.”
Vika had heard of the Republic of San Magnolia’s persecution
of the Eighty-Six. Surrounded by the Legion and with their backs
against the wall, the Republic’s Alba had chosen not to liberate
themselves from the situation but instead to blind themselves to it
and shift the responsibility to another party, leading to a pathetic
conclusion.
“Well, come what may, I’ll act as I always do,” said the younger
prince. “I’ll trust in the decisions of Father and the Kingdom…
Even if I die, in the end all you lose is another dog.”
Zafar gave a slight grunt and tilted his head at Vika, who
added with a shrug:
“The Eighty-Sixth Strike Package. They’re all Eighty-Six, aren’t
they…? They may be commoners, but even the Federacy’s top
brass found them too much to manage. Same as me.”
 “Vika.”
“Calling them an ‘elite unit’ has a classy ring to it, but all
they’re doing is sending out these monsters they can’t control to
maintain the front lines, banking on them buying into their
propaganda. The survival rate in dispatch operations is low. In a
unit that specializes in those kinds of operations, the value of a
squad member’s life doesn’t amount to much. Just like in the
operation against the Morpho.”
The child soldiers back then were Eighty-Six, too, Vika thought,
narrowing his eyes. “Lives that don’t amount to much”? If that’s
the case, in times of peace, they would amount to even less.
“If you hunt down the wolves, you rid yourself of the hounds
you used to hunt them down, as well. No one needs a ferocious
beast in peacetime. If the enemy and the monster you use to kill
it end up finishing each other off, it saves you the trouble of
dirtying your own hands putting one or the other down.”
Zafar knitt his coiffed brows anxiously.
“You’re no beast, Vika.”
“Yes. To you and Father, perhaps.”
With a grin, Vika sipped his tea. The sweet floral aroma of
cornflowers blossoming in the field at the Kingdom’s south wafted
into his nostrils, their blooms a shade of blue nowhere to be
found at this time of year.
“But can the same be said for the rest of the world? To them,
I’m just like the Eighty-Six… A monster in human form.”
 CHAPTER 1

MELANCHOLY OF MONSTERS

Rito Oriya had joined the Spearhead squadron only last spring—
two years after he had become a Processor. The first ward’s first
defensive line was the final disposal site where Processors who
had survived too long were sent. They were sent there to die in
battle. Usually, only Processors in their fourth or fifth years of
service were dispatched there, so Rito’s appointment after a mere
two years of service had come relatively early… Or rather, it had
been early until then.
The Republic had believed the war with the Legion would end
after ten years. The Legion’s life spans should have ended at that
point in time. Rito and the other Eighty-Six had known that
wouldn’t be the case, but the white pigs had known nothing of
the battlefield and wanted to quickly get rid of the livestock they’d
kept for the war.
He would never forget the day the large-scale offensive had
started.
Run, ya brats! I don’t care if ya hide inside the walls or
wherever else—just get out of here and survive!
Spurred on by the angry bellowing of the base’s senior chief of
maintenance, Rito and the other twenty-two surviving Processors
had boarded their faithful partners—the Juggernauts—and headed
south. That was just as the warning regarding the Gran Mur’s fall
blared out. Just after a Handler, a slightly older girl, proclaimed
the end of the Republic and the Eighty-Six.
They didn’t want to die under the Republic. If they had to die,
they’d rather it happened on the battlefield of the Eighty-Sixth
Sector, where their countless comrades had fallen. It was this
thought that led them not into the arms of the Republic but to a
squadron that called for them from a fortification within the
Eighty-Sixth Sector. The chief of maintenance, Lev Aldrecht, said
the Handler girl was a trustworthy person and following her would
increase their chances of survival, but Rito found it difficult to
trust a white pig he had never met before.
Aldrecht and his crew didn’t come with them.
We’re the pieces of shit that had to stand by and watch you
kids march to your deaths.
For some reason, Aldrecht and the other maintenance crew all
smirked when they said that. Judging by the looks on their faces,
they seemed oddly relieved. The Eighty-Sixth Sector’s
maintenance crew consisted of Eighty-Six who were formerly
Republic soldiers and the surviving adults who’d enlisted early on
in the war. Servicing the Juggernauts required considerable skill
and technical know-how, and since they had that knowledge, they
were spared from being eliminated after they’d been injured in
combat, and they were allowed to keep working. They were
Eighty-Six whose lives happened to have slightly more value than
most.
That was why they’d had to watch as these child soldiers,
whose lives had little to no value in comparison, had marched to
their deaths over the last decade… Aldrecht and his crew likely
cursing their powerlessness and uselessness from the bottom of
their hearts all the while.
So sticking around here and letting the heaps of scrap metal
butcher us is fitting punishment, y’see…? We got nowhere else to
go but here.
They would finally be set free from that guilt. They would
finally atone for the sins of leaving others to die… So told the
smiles on their faces as they shouldered old assault rifles, all-
purpose machine guns, and rocket launchers they’d hidden God
knows where.
 As the Eighty-Six fled, they heard the sound of those weapons
firing from the direction of the base. Those weapons were weak,
even compared to the Juggernaut, and didn’t serve as a means of
countering the Legion. The all-too-familiar sound of a Löwe’s 120
mm turret thundered across the landscape, and the Ameise’s
antipersonnel machine-gun fire reached their ears. And then the
base fell into eternal silence.
When they reached the defensive base near the southern
front, the southern front’s first ward’s first defensive unit, Razor
Edge, served as the main force. It was the first time Rito ever saw
so many forces in one place, but their numbers rapidly decreased
in the blink of an eye.
The conflict was already well underway by the time aid arrived.
A force of units consisting of polypedal weapons and armored
infantry crossed the Legion’s territories from their neighboring
country, Giad. They were pearlescent Feldreß he’d never seen
before, yet somehow, they seemed oddly familiar. Looking back,
he realized one of those Reginleifs may very well have been
Shin’s.
“…Cap’n Nouzen.”
The boy who’d served as captain of the first squadron Rito had
been assigned to. A boy who was three years his elder but four
years his senior in terms of battle experience. After six months in
that squadron, Shin had ended his term, and it had been decided
he’d be sent to the Spearhead squadron… And Rito had then
assumed he’d probably died, either in combat or in the Special
Reconnaissance mission.
Rito told Shin that Aldrecht had died, but he didn’t tell him of
his final moments nor his last words. He thought…Shin was
saddened by it. Shin, who took on the role of the Reaper, who
carried on the names and memories of those who fought by his
side, perhaps wanted to take that obstinate old chief of
maintenance with him in some form.
But he couldn’t understand.
The highest rate of casualties among Processors occurred
either at their final disposal site or when they were novices at the
start of their service—when they knew nothing of the battlefield,
any potential they may have was still untapped, and they could
die at the slightest stroke of bad luck. Rito spent his first six
months, the period when most novices died, in a squadron of
Name Bearers like Shin and Raiden. It was a squadron of
veterans, so it had few casualties in comparison to others in the
Eighty-Sixth Sector…
He’d grown used to battle without having to see the comrades
at his side blown to bits, and he’d had a chance to learn how to
fight and survive. And by the time Rito and his comrades left, he’d
gained the skill needed to defend his comrades in battle, if only
somewhat.
And so Rito wasn’t used to it yet. To the terror… Shin, who had
bathed in it so much he’d gained the title of Reaper, would
probably never understand.
Looking out the train window, all Rito could see was pitch-
blackness. Sitting on this train, riding to their next battlefield, Rito
gazed at his own reflection in the dark window and whispered to
himself in a somber tone so as not to awaken his friends sleeping
next to him. In a voice that wouldn’t reach the Reaper, whose
ears could pick up even the voices of ghosts.
“Cap’n. To tell the truth, I’m still…still afraid to die. And I’m still
afraid of seeing others die, too.”

A deafening howl, like a beast that had had its throat crushed,
echoed loudly from the other side of the window. It was the
sound of the high-speed train running along the track that
reverberated through the tight pitch-black tunnel. It echoed,
dredging up a particularly foul mood in Shin and making him
recall things he would have preferred remain buried. As he was
forced to play audience to the incessant continuo alternating
between a high pitch and a low one, Shin traced back memories
that teetered on the edge of oblivion.
They were on the western intercountry high-speed railway,
namely on the Eaglefrost route, currently passing through the
Dragon Corpse tunnel. A line that once connected the former
Empire of Giad and the United Kingdom had been partially
reinstated and recently opened for military use. The Dragon
Corpse tunnel had been built along this line, making it the longest
railway tunnel in the world.
The Legion made use of everything they could find in the land
they stole from humankind to benefit their operations, but the
same held true for humankind. The Legion had maintained the old
high-speed railway lines to allow for the Morpho’s movement, and
now that the Highway Corridor had been retaken and was back in
human hands, they’d begun restoring it for military use.
The officers’ passenger car consisted of rows of box seats
opposite each other on both sides. Those sitting in them were
mostly dressed in the steel-blue colors of the Federacy’s military,
but some Eighty-Six soldiers were there, too, adding other hues
into the mix.
Shin’s eyes narrowed, and a small sigh escaped his lips as he
turned his gaze to the dark window. Eleven years ago, during the
convoy to the internment camps, he’d heard the same sound from
behind the walls of the freight car. They’d been stuffed into a
freight train made for delivering livestock, and it had been so
cramped that there had been no room to move.
It was entirely different from back then, though, when the
body heat of so many people in close quarters, combined with the
lack of ventilation, had made it hard to breathe. Remembering it
filled his heart with an odd sense of discomfort. He’d suddenly
been subjected to jeers and spite and shipped off to a strange
place. And yet, he couldn’t remember the expressions his parents
or his brother—his stalwart shield—had often worn. At the time,
Shin had been small for his age, and the constant confusion and
terror of that period now bubbled to the forefront of his mind.
It’s not that you can’t remember your childhood. You don’t
want to remember it.
A voice like a silver bell surfaced in his memory, making him
narrow his eyes inadvertently.
Because that way you can keep thinking that the things you
lost, that were taken from you, never existed to begin with.
That way you can keep believing people are despicable.
…That’s not it. It’s not that I don’t want to remember or
anything. Still, the fact that I can’t remember doesn’t
inconvenience me in any way.
“—Shin.”
 Turning in the direction of the voice, his gaze fell on the
opposite seat, where Raiden was sitting.
“We’re almost to Rogvolod City. They said it’s a lot colder there
than in the Federacy, so remember to put your coat on before you
get off.”
“Right.”
The train could run only until the terminal just outside the
tunnel. After that, the railway’s gauge had to be switched. The
train ferried several thousand troops and Juggernauts that
weighed roughly ten tons each. Reshipping would take a
considerable amount of time.
The railroad allowed for large-scale, high-speed transportation,
enabling it to move far more troops and equipment than the
standard quota. So even if the Federacy had been a friendly
nation in ages past, and even if it was an ally of the United
Kingdom in the war against the Legion, allowing a large number
of weapons and troops to directly enter the capital—the veritable
jugular of the country—wasn’t something the northern country
looked upon with fondness.
“But man, the United Kingdom, huh…? It’s like, heh, we really
did go farther than we ever expected to go, didn’t we?”
“…For sure.”
Two years ago, none of them could have ever imagined leaving
the Eighty-Sixth Sector. The train they were on now crossed the
Federacy’s northern border and was following the tunnel cutting
through the Dragon Corpse mountain range, heading to a
neighboring country they’d never known.
The United Kingdom of Roa Gracia. A land of weaponry, oil
production, and gold mining. The Empire of Giad’s sole ally and,
at the same time, its constant hypothetical enemy. With the
Empire’s fall, it was now the sole remaining despotic monarchy on
the continent.
And the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package’s next battlefield.

“—Our upcoming operation’s primary objective is the capture of

the commander unit located in the United Kingdom’s southern
front, identifier: the Merciless Queen.”
 While they were officers just like the Processors, the field
officers Lena, Grethe, and Annette were allotted a separate car. It
was done to maintain the superior officers’ authority, as well as to
ensure secrecy. Information in the military was disclosed on a
need-to-know basis, and there was a significant gap between the
amounts of information a commanding officer and a Processor
were privy to.
Their first-class passenger car was lined with amber-colored
wooden panels, and as they were seated around the parquet
table over cups of steaming tea, Lena nodded.
“The message from the Legion that Captain Nouzen witnessed
during the Charité underground-terminal operation—it was a clue
that would supposedly lead to the commander unit, correct?”
It was also the only remaining Ameise unit manufactured in the
lifetime of Major Zelene Birkenbaum, the Legion’s creator and a
researcher from the former Empire of Giad. Zelene’s personnel file
hadn’t been lost during the upheaval of the revolution, so her
head shot remained. The information-analysis team shared the
photograph with the only person who had witnessed the
message, Shin, who said he thought it matched the face he’d
seen.
Come find me.
Words that were all too inexplicable for humankind, coming
from the Legion that took no prisoners nor attempted any
negotiation during their one-sided war for a country that didn’t
exist anymore. Perhaps Shin, whose appearance greatly implied
his Imperial noble descent, was one of the triggers. The Legion
were currently an uncontrollable autonomous system, but they
weren’t in a berserk state. The ones who’d given them orders
were long gone. They continued to fight because it was the final
order they’d received. Even now, the Legion were obeying the last
will and testament of their ruined nation.
If that was the case, perhaps the Legion had judged this
situation of not receiving new orders for so many years to be
unusual and had begun seeking a new master to lead them.
“It’s believed any new information we gain by capturing it
might be a hint toward ending the war.”
Even if Zelene had no such intent, she was still responsible for
the Legion’s development. It was possible that she possessed an
emergency shutdown code or some kind of administrator
password.
“Yes. The United Kingdom has agreed to hand her over in
exchange for their presence in all investigations and disclosure of
all information we come up with, so after you seize or incapacitate
the Ameise, please bring Zelene back home to us. We don’t mind
what condition she’s in, so long as her central processor remains
intact.”
Annette tilted her head.
“I’m surprised the United Kingdom accepted those terms.
They’re a despotic monarchy, so from their perspective, the
Republic and Federacy citizens are just commoners. I figured
they’d be a little more condescending and give us a hard time.”
“It just means they don’t have the leisure to do that any
longer. This expedition’s objective is a tech exchange with them,
of course, but it’s effectively an aid effort from the Federacy to the
United Kingdom.”
“But is that really true? The United Kingdom and its Owl King
have been feared since before the war with the Legion began,
and now they’re on the brink of collapse…?”
The United Kingdom of Roa Gracia was currently the second-
strongest surviving country, after the Federal Republic of Giad.
While the Federacy dwarfed the United Kingdom in population and
sheer territory size, the United Kingdom had the martial strength
to withstand the large-scale offensive and send forces to assist
with the Morpho’s subjugation operation.
Why would such a powerful country do this now, all of a
sudden?
“The answer is simpler than you’d think. Now that the
Sheepdogs make up the bulk of the enemy’s forces, the fighting
becomes that much more challenging on every front in every
country.”
Lena grimaced in realization as Grethe took a sip of her coffee
substitute. The Sheepdogs. The mass-produced intelligent Legion
created by using Republic citizens captured in the large-scale
offensive. It appeared they had transferred the data to their
military kernel before they abandoned the production site during
the underground-terminal operation.
Ever since that operation, the Legion’s strategies had become
more elaborate. It seemed the replacement of the Black Sheep—
Legion that assimilated the damaged neural networks of the dead
—with the Sheepdogs was progressing.
“As planned, Major Penrose and I will be in charge of the
technology exchange. Colonel Milizé, you will be in charge of
command on the front lines. Part of the United Kingdom’s unit is
set to join the Strike Package upon completion of this operation,
so become familiar with their forces as soon as you can.”
Grethe said this with a grin.
“We’ll be mobilizing all four thousand of our number for this
mission. It’s time for the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package to show off
what it can really do.”
Annette tilted her head.
“There were a lot of people who didn’t volunteer, too. I hear
around ten thousand surviving Eighty-Six were taken in and
sheltered by the Federacy.”
The Eighty-Six were treated as special officers who received a
higher education during their service in the Federacy military.
Having been sent to internment camps since their early childhood,
they’d never even received an elementary education. As such,
their term of education was longer than a regular special officer’s,
and while some studied through correspondence, their tutoring
was moved to a special school set up near their headquarters’
base.
With their scheduled leaves taken into consideration, a quarter
of the troops at a time alternated between schooling and training,
so the largest number of troops the Strike Package could deploy
at any given time was four thousand.
Incidentally, the ones who studied from afar using
correspondence were Shin and his group, the first to be sheltered
by the Federacy. Following the large-scale offensive and the
establishing of the Strike Package, they were too occupied with
their duties and ended up neglecting their schoolwork. But even if
one were to assume that only half of the ten thousand troops
rescued were active forces, the math still didn’t align with the fact
that they had only four thousand troops.
 “Former maintenance crew members became Reginleif
mechanics… Some of those children can’t fight. Some fought too
much. Others lost the will to fight.”
The number didn’t include children who’d been sent to the
internment camps at an extremely young age, those who’d
developed mental health issues, and those who simply didn’t want
to be drafted.
“And how are those kids…er…being treated?”
It seemed the Federacy had its own share of problems, what
with large amounts of invalids and war orphans who had
appeared over the ten years since the Legion War had started.
“They were either sent to specialized institutions or taken in by
guardians… The Eighty-Six are treated like Captain Nouzen and
his group; they’re adopted on paper by former nobles and high
officials. Most of them are only lending their names, but they can’t
treat them too carelessly. Their names are quite literally on the
line here.”
It had been only ten years since Giad had transitioned from an
Imperial government to a democracy, but the ethos of noblesse
oblige—which included acts of philanthropy—still held strong.
Perhaps now that the class system had officially been abolished,
that was the only means the former nobility had left to set
themselves apart from the masses. Lena sighed in relief.
“I see. That’s…good, then.”
“Between that and the cooperation with the United Kingdom,
there are times when the nobles’ obsession with maintaining their
honor and dignity can come in handy.”
The United Kingdom’s sending of forces after the conclusion of
the joint operation was also thanks to this idea of noblesse oblige.
One of its commanding officers was to join them as a guest officer
under Lena’s direct command. As such, he’d be demoted to
lieutenant colonel so as not to clash with Lena’s rank of colonel.
“I hear the United Kingdom officer is royalty.”
“Yes, the fifth prince, Viktor Idinarohk. Despite being only
eighteen years old, he’s an influential figure who serves as the
southern front’s military commander. He’s also a deputy secretary
of the royal technological institute and this generation’s Espers.”
Grethe mentioned it casually, but for Lena, who grew up in the
Republic, the word Esper still had an esoteric ring to it. On rare
occasion, members of a particularly archaic bloodline exhibited
these supernatural abilities, and Giad, which had been ruled by
royalty until eleven years ago, still retained several of those
families. Some Espers would enlist in the military, acting as
specialists who performed as well as, if not better than, modern
equipment.
The Republic, on the other hand, did away with Espers three
hundred years ago, when it abolished the class system. In order
to avoid mixed blood and perform consanguineous marriages
without adverse effects, a clan required a large number of family
members, as well as assets to support them. And the old nobles,
who had lost their assets and land to the revolution, couldn’t
maintain those conditions.
The Strike Package included two Espers already, namely Shin
and Frederica. But from Lena’s perspective and that of common
sense, something about those extrasensory abilities felt terribly
unnatural. And after the last operation, Shin’s ability caused his
physical condition to deteriorate significantly.
This wasn’t something normal, of course, but resulted from the
strain caused by the introduction of the Sheepdogs. But if his
ability burdened him so much, Lena honestly couldn’t bring
herself to believe it was something he should employ as a matter
of course… And Grethe had described the United Kingdom’s Esper
as “this generation’s Esper”… If that implied many couldn’t exist in
the same generation, it may well have meant these abilities had
enough of an adverse effect on one’s health to cut down their life
span…
“…Hmm, what kind of special ability does the royal family
have?”
“Prince Viktor single-handedly developed the Legion’s artificial
intelligence model, the Mariana Model, but maybe saying that he
developed it when he was only five years old will put things into
perspective. Theirs is a bloodline that produces geniuses and
prodigies. He also has the impressive achievement of developing
and improving the United Kingdom’s Feldreß control system… On
the other hand, he’s infamously known as the King of Corpses and
the Serpent of Shackles and Decay—the viper. There are also
rumors that his right to claim the throne has been revoked.”
Annette repeated her words in shock.
“R-revoked?! He didn’t relinquish it? It was revoked…?”
“And ‘Serpent of Shackles and Decay’…? That’s awful…!”
In the cultural sphere of the continent’s west, snakes were a
symbol of corruption and the devil. Especially the viper, which had
potent venom capable of melting away one’s flesh and curdling
their blood. It was not a name one would lovingly give their
prince.
“Despite that, the authorities he’s been given are many and
significant, and the crown prince, who shares the same mother as
Prince Viktor, seems to cherish him… There’s a struggle over the
succession rights of the United Kingdom between the crown
prince and the second prince and first princess, who are children
of concubines. Prince Viktor is part of the crown prince Zafar’s
faction. He’s lauded as the right-hand man of the capable,
renowned crown prince.”
“…Where did you get all this information…?”
Grethe shrugged casually.
“We reopened this railway the winter before you arrived, and
some members of the United Kingdom military, a small number of
soldiers, have been coming and going ever since.”
“…Right.”
“So at that time, the information bureau sent people over to
their side or perhaps restored contact with people who were there
to begin with… I suspect the same holds true for both sides here.”
The former Giadian Empire and the United Kingdom of Roa
Gracia had been despotic monarchies and old allies, but at the
same time, they’d served as hypothetical enemies of each other.
And that hadn’t changed even now that the Empire had fallen and
humanity had gone to war with the Legion…
“By the way, Colonel Milizé.”
Grethe spoke with the same casual tone one might use when
mentioning the weather, so Lena was caught unprepared.
Annette, who did pick up on what was coming, stealthily left her
seat.
“Did you have a fight with Captain Nouzen?”
Lena choked on her tea.
 “Huhhh…?!”
“I haven’t seen the two of you speak ever since you returned
from the Republic.”
“Er, that’s…”
Lena turned to Annette in a pleading manner, but Annette
avoided her gaze.
“I’m not touching this.”
“I didn’t intend to involve myself in your private affairs, but this
has been going on for far too long. If our tactical commander and
the captain of our armored units have communication issues, it
could impact future operations.”
“Right…”
It’s been like this ever since then.
“You’re still trapped by the Republic. By us—the white pigs.”
“That makes me…so sad.”
Since she’d said that, she hadn’t had a proper conversation
with Shin. It wasn’t that they were avoiding each other. They had
exchanges that pertained to their duties, but they couldn’t hold a
conversation about anything else. So all the trifling topics they’d
talk about when they finished their reports and business talks or
whenever they passed each other in the hallway simply stopped
happening. All that remained was strained silence, and the
awkwardness of it all stymied their conversations.
That situation had lasted for a while now. She didn’t regret
anything she had said back then, but she now realized that it had
been wrong of her to one-sidedly make assumptions. At the
time…when she said it, Shin had seemed to be enraged
momentarily but had restrained himself. Still, there had been a
hint of annoyance in his voice when he spat out:
“I don’t…understand.”
And there had been reservation mixed in his tone as well,
along with…
“Is that really so bad, Lena?”
…confusion. Complete and utter confusion.
He couldn’t understand what Lena was so apprehensive about
or what had made her sad to begin with. His eyes showed he
couldn’t comprehend it whatsoever. As if none of her words, none
of her emotions ever got through to him. As if he were an
innocent, warped monster that resembled a human in shape
alone.
Her sudden confession had likely confused him. It felt as if this
was how she wanted him to be.
But I’m completely different from them. And I didn’t want to
have to think that we might speak the same language, see the
same world, exist in the same place, yet never see eye to eye.

No.
It’s more than that.

At the time, his crimson gaze had held a mixture of indignation

and confusion—and behind it was the wavering light of a
wounded child. She was sure of it. As if he’d been struck by
someone he’d never imagined would lash out at him. As if he’d
never expected Lena to say that to him.
Fighting to the bitter end and moving on to their final
destination was the Eighty-Six’s pride and freedom. Lena had
heard it before. From them. And to live up to those words, they
stepped back into the fray even after they’d been rescued by the
Federacy. So to tell them that they were still trapped…that they
were still in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, that they hadn’t moved a
single step forward from where they once were, was an insult
beyond description.
Under the pretense of grief, she’d trampled over the only sense
of pride they were allowed to have.
She didn’t want to think she might have been the one to hurt
them this way… And the moment she had, Lena had been assailed
by a self-hatred that felt like drowning in a sea of flames. In other
words, she’d been the one avoiding Shin. Running from the fact
that she’d insulted him… From the fact that she’d hurt him.
“…Colonel?”
It had been the same two years ago. She’d thought she was
standing by their side, that she understood them. But the truth
was she hadn’t really tried to learn anything about them, not even
their names. She’d just one-sidedly forced her feelings and
impressions on them and, in so doing, hurt them.
“Colonel Milizé.”
 Nothing’s changed. I’ve learned nothing after all this time. How
disgraceful. How embarrassing.
“Colonel, I’m talking to you.”
…Wait, no. What am I going to do if he hates me for this…?!
“Hey, cut it out, Lena. Just calm down.”
Lifting her face with a start, she found Grethe and Annette
staring at her. Lena then realized she’d cradled her head and
sagged against the table without noticing.
Grethe flashed a grin.
“…Looks like it’s more severe than I thought.”
“I-I’m sorry…”
“Well, you’ve only just met him. The occasional disagreement
or argument is par for the course.”
Grethe’s ruby lips curled upward once more.
“Captain Nouzen won’t be stopping at the base our unit will be
stationed in. He’ll be coming with us to the royal capital. You’ll
have plenty of time to talk until the operation. Use that time to
patch things up.”
 * * *

“…By the way…”

With his eyes still turned to the darkened train window despite
not really looking at it, Shin tensed up when he heard Raiden’s
voice.
“Did you have a fight with Lena or something?”
He’d already lost the moment he’d looked back at him
reflexively. Raiden leaned his elbow against the window and
pressed his cheek against his fist as Shin raised an eyebrow.
“…How?”
“Whaddaya mean, how…? You were trying to hide it? Hell,
man, you really have no self-awareness whatsoever, do you?”
Hearing Raiden’s incredulous voice was surprisingly irritating.
Shin sighed, breaking the inadvertent glare he’d shot into Raiden’s
reddish-brown eyes, and shifted his gaze back to the blackened
window.
“…I don’t think it was really much of a fight.”
Shin couldn’t call it a fight, given his all-too-vast experience
with fights to the death and the terribly hateful treatment those
descended from the Empire’s bloodlines sometimes received.
Compared to that, a simple difference in opinions didn’t even
register as a dispute.
Or rather, it shouldn’t have, but…
“She said we…the Eighty-Six, are still trapped in the Eighty-
Sixth Sector.”
Raiden fell into a momentary silence.
“…Did she, now?”
He squinted but suppressed whatever emotion made him do
so, probably because Lena was the one who’d said it. And she
certainly hadn’t said it out of spite. But they still annoyed him,
which was an emotion Shin knew all too well.
“That makes me…so sad.”
The moment he’d heard those words, something had
instinctively spurred him to recoil. But what had sprung up
alongside that emotion was confusion and just the slightest tinge
of pain. His not being able to understand what Lena was so
apprehensive about was part of it, of course, but what confused
him the most was that he didn’t understand why he felt the need
to argue.
Was it because if he did, he could continue believing people
were despicable…? Was it so he wouldn’t give up on this world,
cold and cruel as it was?
But that’s exactly the way things were.
That was just how the world worked. It didn’t revolve around
humankind; it was indifferent and cold—and helplessly so. And
that applied all the more for human beings, who, unlike the world,
acted on the malice they felt for others. That was something Shin
had learned all too well in the internment camps and on the
battlefield of the Eighty-Sixth Sector. Seeing it repeat itself time
after time gave him all the lessons he would ever need.
So he’d simply pointed that out… What was unpleasant about
that? He’d merely stated the facts. Was it because she was
saddened? Because she pitied him? As Grethe once said, no one
had the right to pity them. But at this point, Shin honestly couldn’t
care about that anymore. The other party was free to pity them
all they wanted, but Shin had no intent of playing along.
But if so…why?
Shin didn’t really understand what Lena was sad about. He had
no desire to sadden her, of course, but since he couldn’t
understand, he didn’t know how to handle it. It was hard not to
feel as if she was avoiding him, and in truth, they had hardly
spoken since. In the end, neither of them was willing to broach
the subject, leaving things in a state of awkward silence.
“—Shin. Yo, Shin.”
Before he’d noticed, Raiden was waving a hand in front of his
face. Shin seemed to have gotten lost in his thoughts for a good
while. He looked back at Raiden, who smirked.
“Y’know, you really…really have changed.”
“?”
“Forget it,” Raiden replied, exasperated. “Well, knowing you,
you’ll end up trashing Undertaker soon enough, so talk to her
then… I mean, your rig’s one hell of a Hangar Queen.”
That was slang for a unit that always broke down and spent
more time being repaired in the hangar than out on the
battlefield. Small skirmishes aside, Undertaker had a way of
always taking severe damage during large battles, so perhaps it
was only natural it would end up being called that.
“…Old Aldrecht always gave me shit for that…”
“Yeah…”
I ain’t telling you to apologize—I’m telling you to change yer
ways!
That crazy fightin’ style of yours is gonna get ya killed one day!
Rito had told them he’d died during the large-scale offensive,
along with the other maintenance crew members. All of them, on
the same day. Shin had felt a tinge of emotion upon hearing that,
but some part of him had known that might be the case. The
Eighty-Six made the battlefield their home and prided themselves
on fighting to the bitter end. And all Eighty-Six eventually died.
And that held just as true for the old head of maintenance, who’d
stood by their side despite being an Alba.
But still…
“…I kinda wish he survived.”
Raiden turned his eyes to Shin, who continued without meeting
his gaze.
“If he could’ve survived until the rescue forces came, he
might’ve at least been able to see his family’s pictures. Looking for
their remains would have been difficult, but he would’ve been
able to go to their last battlefield.”
Unlike me, who can’t remember my family… Aldrecht, who still
remembered his wife and daughter, could have had that little bit
of peace.
All Eighty-Six died eventually… Shin understood that. But that
didn’t mean he was completely unmoved by the sheer amount of
death he’d witnessed.
“…True, once the war with the Legion ends, visiting graves like
that will be a possibility.”
After a heavy sigh, Raiden leaned forward.
“What do you think, Shin? Did the ‘Zelene’ you saw look like
she was down to end the war?”
“…Who knows?”
That woman-shaped cluster of Liquid Micromachines hadn’t
possessed a feature to emit sound, so Shin had had no way of
picking up any emotion or nuance in her tone. All he could glean
was the message.
Come find me.
There was no way of knowing what the intent was. Even for
Shin, the person to whom those words were directed.
“It’s one thing to assume they want to negotiate or exchange
information, but hoping something like that was a hint for ending
the war feels like a leap of logic to me. Even if there is
information the United Kingdom is holding back from us…I don’t
see this war ending so easily.”
There wasn’t a single place on the continent where one could
escape the war, and they couldn’t remember a time when that
wasn’t the case. However…
“…But if the war ended…I think that’d be a good thing, in its
own way.”
I want to show her the sea.
Things she didn’t know, things she’d never seen before. He
wanted to show her everything the Legion had stolen from the
world. Shin hadn’t forgotten those words. This was a worthy
reason to fight. He didn’t have any expectations… That wish
would likely go ungranted. But someday, if the war ended…
Raiden fell silent for a moment.
“Yeah. If the war ended…”
His sentence cut off halfway through, and he didn’t say any
more. His silence spoke volumes, and Shin understood.
It would be nice if the war could end, they felt. But it was still
impossible to imagine—because all they’d ever known was the
battlefield.
There was a loud groan, and then their car was suddenly filled
with light. In less than twenty minutes, the rolling stock of the
high-speed train had traversed the tunnel that had taken two
years to excavate. Their corneas, which had gotten accustomed to
the dark, were momentarily blinded by the sunlight but gradually
grew used to the glaring whiteness that filled the scenery outside
the train.
The two wordlessly looked out the window. The bulletproof
glass of the windowpanes impeded their visibility somewhat,
giving the view outside a bluish tint. It was a different country,
but the dreariness of it all remained the same. No combatants
lived near the fronts. Any that survived left their homelands
behind.
Thick silver-gray flakes fluttered to the ground. Old ruins
dotted the snowy fields, making the view appear almost as
desolate as the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s battlefield; everything looked
to have frozen over, and the wasteland stretched on as far as the
eye could see.

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

“We’ll be heading to the base first, then. It’s the, uh, Revich
Citadel Base, right?”
“Yeah… Sorry for dropping all the dirty work on you.”
“Well, you technically are my superior officer, and the staff
officers and majors will be taking care of the transfer itself. You
guys just take care of escorting the colonel and Lena.”
Waving his hand, Theo made his way to his next train as the
container for the Juggernauts was being unloaded and reloaded.
Half the unit would go today, and the other half would go on the
next transport. The Strike Package’s thousands of troops and their
Feldreß would be moved to the Revich Citadel Base, on the United
Kingdom’s front lines. They were making the transport in stages
and with breaks in order to slip under the watchful eye of the
Observation Control type, the Rabe.
After seeing his comrades off, Shin turned around to look at
Rogvolod City. As he’d been told on the train, this city, which lay
at the feet of the Dragon Corpse mountain range, was covered in
cold, light snow. It was the southernmost city populated by
civilians and was currently under blackout, which spoke to how
frugal they had to be with electricity.
A short distance away from the city area, sitting in the shadow
of a massive, rectangular domed structure lit by starlight, was the
nuclear power plant that provided the district with heat.
Suddenly he heard the sound of someone stomping through
the snow behind him.
“…Nouzen.”
 Turning to find the owner of the voice, Shin saw a young man
with a medal bearing a vehicle on his chest. He was one of the
controllers who served in Lena’s command car, Vanadis, and a
contemporary of his from the special officer academy: Erwin
Marcel.
“Didn’t you retire from the military?”
“I can’t pilot a Vánagandr anyway. My leg got messed up
during the large-scale offensive.”
Judging from the sound of his footsteps as he approached, the
injury didn’t impede his walking, but Marcel looked down at his
right leg as he spoke, saying that it was a compound fracture…
When his broken bone had sliced through his flesh and skin, it
had also severed a nerve. It didn’t hinder his day-to-day life, but
the injury was devastating enough that he was no longer capable
of the reaction speed needed for the split-second decision-making
it took to pilot a Feldreß.
“Besides, the hell do you mean, ‘Didn’t you retire’? Unlike you
Eighty-Six, we special officers can’t put food on the table if we
quit the army.”
“You were gone from the register of the 177th Armored
Division’s unit after the reorganization, but your name wasn’t
announced on the war-dead broadcast. So I figured you retired…
Didn’t think I’d see your name on the Strike Package’s command
car unit register.”
“…Didn’t think you cared. I always figured you didn’t give two
shits about anyone and anything around you.”
That lack of emotion and interest was something he’d hated
about Shin since the special officer academy, Marcel thought. The
way he was so detached from the hell of the battlefield… The way
he could see through the terror in other people’s hearts felt
almost as if he was mocking them in some way.
“…About Nina.”
Shin narrowed his eyes at the sudden mention of that name.
Eugene had been a common friend and contemporary of theirs,
and Nina was his younger sister. Shin had long since torn up and
thrown away the letter she’d sent him, demanding to know why
he’d killed her brother.
“I shouldn’t have told her how Eugene died… That letter wasn’t
something a person needed to receive right before an operation
they could’ve died in. I should’ve just told her that Eugene died
and it was tragic and left it at that, but I ended up saying too
much. I wanted her to think his death was someone’s fault, and I
pinned it on you… I’m sorry.”
He lowered his head deeply. Shin simply shook his head and
asked, “How’s she doing?”
After she’d lost the parents she couldn’t remember, the one
person she’d had left—her brother—had died, too.
“Right… Well, she’s doing okay… With everything that went on
with the Republic, the Alba back home are kind of ashamed. But,
you know, her brother was a soldier, so she doesn’t get harassed,
and she isn’t hung up on Eugene’s death, either.”
Shin closed his eyes.
She isn’t hung up on it. She isn’t waiting for her brother,
knowing he’ll never return.
“That’s…good, then.”
Marcel’s face lit up with surprise before his expression shifted
into a light smile.
“…Right.”
After Marcel walked away, Frederica, who had watched the
exchange until now, walked up to Shin.
“…Are you really fine with that? That man… Well…”
“I don’t care… Not at this point.”
She looked up at him with her eyes oddly half-open, shrugged,
and craned her neck, causing her small head to droop. The only
ones heading for the capital, Arcs Styrie, were the brigade
commander, Grethe; the tactical commander, Lena; Annette; a
few select technical officers; and the senior squadron
commanders and their vice captains: Shin and Raiden, and Shiden
and Shana.
“It feels silly asking at this point, but is it all right for you to
come with us to the capital?”
Her even just being implicated in an operation in which soldiers
from another country were involved was problematic. She was an
empress, if only a former one who was just a baby when the war
started and who hadn’t been formally coronated. Since her ability
was passed down through her bloodline, Shin didn’t think it would
be safe to have someone from outside the country see her. He’d
started the conversation now because there was no concern of
someone eavesdropping on them here.
“My presence serves as the answer, does it not?” she said, as if
without any intent to put on airs. “Members of the Giad Imperial
household have been puppets for the great nobles for two
centuries. Since the dawn of the Empire, the royal family has been
forced to mix its blood with that of different races that entered
the country. The lower nobles never knew the emperor’s face, to
say nothing of the commoners, and have grown to believe the
Imperial house’s abilities have diminished as repeated mixed
marriages thinned our blood. Even the Idinarohks’ Amethystus
would be hard pressed to learn that I am the empress Augusta…
“Amethystus was a term used to describe the Idinarohk line’s
Espers for generations,” she added. Theirs was a bloodline that
produced geniuses capable of feats like developing new AI models
each generation.
“However, I do believe some of the western front’s generals
harbor suspicions of my survival… Otherwise the record of your
exchange with Milizé following Kiriya’s destruction would not have
been played as it was before the generals.”
Shin grimaced because he’d been forced to be present in the
briefing when the recording was played before the generals, a
time that he could only compare to torture. It was a memory he
didn’t want to relive, so he’d kept it out of his mind until this
moment. Even if the mission recorder had mostly picked up audio
that had gone through the Processor’s intercom and exchanges
with the outside, it was unlikely that it hadn’t picked up the voice
of Frederica—who’d been in the cockpit with him—at all.
Right. At the time, Ernst had called her Frederica.
“So since he knows, there’s no danger of him betraying you?”
“On the contrary…”
Frederica tilted her head lightly. Almost sorrowfully…
Apprehensively.
“I’m sure you’ve suspected it… But that man is a fire-breathing
dragon. He puts ideals before all else and would cast himself and
the rest of the world into the flames for the sake of upholding
them—with an obsession and fixation that cannot be restrained.
Honestly, that man is such a dragon.”
“…”
There was an expression that sometimes surfaced on the face
of the man who was technically his adoptive father that
contrasted with his usual amicable gaze. Words that were equal
parts sympathetic and hollow, with only a thin veneer of sincerity
on the surface. At times, Shin noticed the subtle cruelty behind his
words.
If that’s what humankind has to do to survive, then we deserve
to be wiped out.
“If I were to be set up as a symbol to capsize the Federacy… If
humankind was foolish enough to put the Federacy and the rest
of the world in danger before the conclusion of the war with the
Legion, over pointless greed…he would likely think we were all
better off going extinct.”

A change to democracy meant the transition and redistribution of

wealth. Properties and commodities that once belonged
exclusively to the royalty, who made up only a small percentage of
the population, were distributed among the populace. That led to
an increase in the standard of living for the vast majority of
people. But it also meant that extravagant, gaudy luxury items
gradually started to disappear.
However, in the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia, which had been
a powerful country for generations and was now the only
remaining despotic monarchy, the royalty still held its wealth. In
fact, Roa Gracia was the only nation that still produced such
luxury items. The royal castle, which stood as the symbol and
temple of the royals, was so dauntingly glamorous that it left Lena
feeling overwhelmed.
The room they’d been taken to looked as if it had been made
to entertain guests, not conduct official business. Laburnum and
rose vines dangled down from the ceiling, along with a crystal
chandelier in the shape of a blue passionflower, and the polished
agate floor shone as if a mirror had been spread out below them.
The furniture was all uniformly made of ebony inlaid with
malachite, and a large number of roses—which were particularly
rare in the frigid north—sat in aventurine vases.
At the corner of the room were a shining glasswork model of a
peacock, a skull made of opal that was attached to the wall as if it
were the prize of some hunt, and what appeared to be a genuine
dinosaur fossil.
The white chalk wall was adorned with plaster craftsmanship
modeled after a silvery vine pattern drawn with such minute detail
that it made one’s head spin. It spoke to the vast amount of time
that had gone into fashioning it… The absurd authority and power
to produce, collect, and still maintain such riches… The
overwhelming, awe-inspiring influence.
The Milizé family was a well-known house in the Republic and
boasted a great deal of wealth and history, but it was still a house
of former nobles who’d lost their status and their right to taxation
three hundred years ago in the revolution. The riches here were
on another level entirely.
She didn’t let her feelings show on her face, but she was still a
bit unnerved. She looked to Shin, who seemed as indifferent as
ever, in contrast to her. He was leaning his back against the wall
and folding his arms—this was likely a habit of his. His bloodred
eyes were cast down in what seemed like contemplative silence.
Looking around, she found Raiden and Shiden, who’d come as
escorts. Raiden stifled a yawn like a bored wolf with more time on
his hands than he knew what to do with, and Shiden was
tampering with her tightly fastened tie, but she didn’t seem
particularly overwhelmed by the spectacle. Frederica naturally sat
on the ball-and-claw-footed sofa as if she felt right at home in this
lavish setting.
The Eighty-Six valued little outside the battlefield they’d grown
up on and their routine mortal combat. Anything that would imply
status or garner respect in normal society didn’t really leave an
impression on them. As such, the lush interior and extravagant
decor had little impact in their eyes; it wasn’t as if the furniture
could bite, after all.
Easily imagining them coming up with that kind of answer,
Lena smiled slightly. In the event that she asked Shin if this kind
of setting made him uncomfortable, she imagined that was the
kind of answer he would give. The only things they found
intimidating were the Legion they fought, and the only things they
valued were the skills and knowledge needed to survive in battle.
The world of man—with its rules and standards—was something
utterly foreign to them.
Unusually enough, they were all wearing full formal attire,
which was usually reserved for social events. Lena couldn’t recall
seeing them wear anything like that previously, and the sight
soothed her strained nerves a bit.
According to their dispatch plan, only the brigade commander,
Grethe, was to hold an audience with the king and the crown
prince. Annette was sent to greet the technology division with
Shana as her escort, and Lena’s group was sent to meet the fifth
prince in an official capacity, since both he and they were military
personnel.
Still, the person in question was royalty. One would have to
mind their appearance. Lena was a given, of course, but even
Shin and the other Processors came in full Federacy dress
uniform, complete with their medals, armbands, and Sam Browne
belts. They even had several service ribbons, which they didn’t
normally wear, pinned to the left breast of their blazers.
After exhaling the air in her lungs with a sigh, Lena steeled
herself. Let’s go.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you all in dress uniforms.”
There was a considerable pause before Shin responded, likely
due to the glance his crimson eyes sneaked at her.
“…That makes sense. We don’t really wear them outside of
ceremonies.”
The curt manner of his response made relief wash over Lena.
It was Shin’s usual tone.
“Ceremonies?”
She gave her reply in a natural, casual tone. That was good.
“Like the enlistment ceremony… And award ceremonies.”
“Oh.”
Every army would publicly celebrate distinguished war service
as well as the war wounded as a way of encouraging the former
and pacifying the latter. It was also a great way to boost morale.
It was different for Shiden, who was still a relatively new recruit,
but Shin and Raiden, with their two years of military service in the
Federacy, had already accumulated a surprisingly large number of
medals. Of course, it was too soon for them to receive one for
long service, but they did have medals for their capabilities and
achievements. They both had impressive Legion kill counts, so
their medals likely indicated that.
“I’d have liked to see those… Do you think if I asked the
president, he’d have pictures or footage of it?”
The Federacy’s temporary president, Ernst Zimmerman, was
Shin’s legal guardian and was the kind to proactively keep those
kinds of records. Shin, however, simply frowned.
“Please don’t. There’s nothing fun about watching that.”
Which meant there certainly were some records. Lena decided
she would ask Ernst for them when they returned to the Federacy.
However reluctant Ernst may be to share them, Grethe would
probably manage something.
Lena heaved an internal sigh of relief over the success of her
first attempt at idle conversation with Shin in a while.
Thank goodness. At the very least, he doesn’t seem to hate me
for what I said.
She then went on to ask something else that was on her mind.
“Er… Is something bothering you? You’ve been acting strange
for some time.”
Or rather, ever since they entered the United Kingdom’s
territory. At Rogvolod City Terminal, on the train to the capital,
and when they were led to the rooms prepared for them in one
wing of the palace. Every now and then, Shin’s gaze would turn
nervously in an unexpected direction. And he’d been like that
since they’d come into this room, too. Something was bothering
him, like a hound attentively perking up his ears, picking up
something a human’s sense of hearing couldn’t.
“Yeah…”
Breaking off his words, Shin fell quiet for a moment. His silence
felt oddly hesitant, as if he himself wasn’t convinced about what
he was about to say.
“…I can hear the Legion’s voices from close by. I don’t have an
exact number, but there’s quite a few of them.”
 “Wha—?”
Having almost yelled out in surprise, Lena hurriedly restrained
herself. Feeling a suspicious gaze turned her way from a blond-
haired, blue-eyed Emeraud chamberlain standing in the corner,
she stifled her voice.
“Why did you keep quiet about it until now? The United
Kingdom already knows about your ability. You should have
warned us if a raid was coming…”
Her tone came across as sharp in spite of herself. Preparing for
a Legion raid ahead of time could greatly diminish the number of
casualties, and no country had managed to develop a means of
gaining recon on the Legion with as large a range or degree of
accuracy as Shin’s power yet.
But Shin simply responded with a confused expression, as if he
was uncertain about what he was saying.
“Because they’re too close. Judging from how close the voices
are, they’re definitely coming from within the capital, and the
closest one is here, inside the castle. I can’t really assume they
infiltrated.”
It was, after all, a national capital. Arcs Styrie was a good
distance away from the front lines, with a great deal of defenses
standing between them. Even if the Legion had infiltrated behind
the front lines, it was unlikely even a single self-propelled mine
would have gotten this far.
“I thought an Eintagsfliege might have managed to fly in
somehow, but there’s too many voices for that. It’s likely Legion
they captured for research purposes. If nothing else, I don’t think
any fighting will break out.”
“—Close but no cigar, as they say. But as you’ve surmised,
there’s no danger to be wary of. Please ignore it, if you would.”
There came an unfamiliar voice. It echoed sweetly in the ear,
with a permeating tenor that felt accustomed to making speeches
but still rung as the voice of a boy near their age. A youth clad in
the United Kingdom’s violet-and-black uniform with a stand-up
collar entered through a door held open by a chamberlain.
He had the thin physique of a young man in his late teens. The
United Kingdom’s royalty customarily grew out their hair, but his
was cut short, and he had the fair complexion characteristic of
those living in the north. His eyes were faintly slanted like a
tiger’s, with his features being an equal balance of dainty
gentleness and inhuman cruelty. He had a somewhat
androgynous countenance that came across as aristocratic, but
for some reason Lena associated his overall appearance with a
slender black serpent.
Sleek pitch-black scales. Beautiful eyes the color of purple
lightning.
A cold-blooded beast, devoid of human empathy.
The boy gave a sinister smile, narrowing his cold, gemlike,
Imperial violet eyes.
“I apologize for the wait, dear friends. I am Viktor Idinarohk,
your comrade starting today… Allow me to first greet you.
Welcome to the unicorn’s castle.”

The prince made his way over to them, accompanied by the

sound of his military boots clicking against the agate floor and the
gentle rustling of his clothes. His outfit gave off the scent of
southern frankincense. Lena caught herself starting at him,
forgoing all notions of manners and etiquette. His beautiful facial
features stood in contrast to how naturally his uniform gave off a
sense of overpowering, solemn dignity.
“So His Majesty the prince himself really came to greet us.”
The prince raised his brows in an exaggerated fashion.
“You already have a grasp on our weakness, I believe… The
United Kingdom was where the Mariana Model, which went on to
become the basis of the Legion, was developed. Even if the war
were to end, the other countries would no doubt regard us with
disdain.”
“…”
There was no direct causality between the development of the
Mariana Model and the war with the Legion, but things would
likely play out as the prince said. When calamity strikes, people
tend to look for a cause. Even if it requires a great leap, or rather
lapse, in logic, they seek to pin the blame for the wrongs done to
them on someone else.
“Though I suppose we’ll be better off than the Empire, which
developed the Legion, or rather its successor, the Federacy…
Though even if they don’t intend to admit to or take any
responsibility for it, they still exhibit enough good faith that it is
unlikely anyone would demand it of them. The people are more
swayed by a country that extends a helping hand to its neighbors
than by one that wouldn’t even protect its own citizens.”
He then shrugged in a detached manner… Perhaps it was due
to his life in the military, but his gestures didn’t come across as
the least bit regal.
“And so the royalty gets sent around to make courtesy calls…
But the same holds true, once again, for the Federacy. The Eighty-
Sixth Strike Package. An elite unit composed of young men and
women sent to give aid to other countries. The same deeds would
not have been the slightest bit picturesque had it been coarse
men doing them, but the story is quite different when child
soldiers of such tragic roots are the ones doing the saving.”
“Nng…?!”
Lena’s breath caught in her throat. She’d seen and known the
pity rooted in condescension that some of the Federacy’s citizens
showed the Eighty-Six. But for the Federacy’s government to have
sent them out on the premise they’d be pitied, hoping to use the
Eighty-Six as a diplomatic tool to buy the other countries’
sympathy…?!
Just how low could people stoop?
She felt an icy tone and warped smile nearly wash over her,
but she quickly shook them off.
That can’t be. People are more than just needlessly cruel and
heartless. This is a time of war, and they might have to show only
their most ugly facets, but…people, and this world, are actually…
“But, Your Highness… That’s…”
The prince gave a sociable smile.
“Call me Vika, please. You can do away with the titles and
empty formalities. They’re a waste of time in the military, after all.
And I’ll address you all by your surnames. If you find it rude, feel
free to say so, and I will correct myself accordingly.”
Calling someone by their nickname was something that was
permitted only for those who were close to that person.
Considering the individual in question was royalty, it came across
as exceptionally cordial treatment, but as he’d said, it wasn’t out
of affection as much as a sense of rationality. After all, he may
have allowed them to call him by his nickname, but he intended
to stand on formality and address them with their last names.
As Lena opened her mouth to speak, he silenced her with a
raised hand.
“I said there’s no need for empty formalities, Colonel Vladilena
Milizé. Your data has been disclosed to the United Kingdom, and
I’ve taken the liberty of reading up on you ahead of time. You
don’t have to waste your breath on introductions.”
Incidentally, the United Kingdom hadn’t disclosed any
information regarding him. At least, nothing that had reached
Lena.
“…Well, it may come off as a touch impolite as exchanges go,
but feel free to see it as us not having the leisure for such niceties
and graciously forgive me for it. After all…”
He glanced at the large window with a view of the capital’s
streets, motioning at them to look as well, and curled his lips
upward coldly.
“…as you can see, our United Kingdom is in an extremely
critical situation.”
Yes, it was plain to see.
Outside the window, thick, low silver clouds shrouded the sky,
and snow fluttered gently down despite it being late spring,
whiting out all other colors. Even in the Federacy, there were no
more days of sudden chill, and in the Republic, early blooming
summer roses opened up around this time. Even a northern
country wouldn’t have a midwinter-like snowfall at this time of
year.
As Lena looked up at the clouds, she could see flickers of silver
reflecting the lights from the ground at the edge of her vision. It
was as if countless small shards of metal were reflecting the light.
Like the fluttering of countless butterfly wings…
“Eintagsfliege…”
“Indeed. Even this land, beloved as it is by the goddess of
white snow, would not be covered by its veil this late into the
year.”
That was the expression used by the United Kingdom to
describe winter, but there wasn’t a hint of a smile on Vika’s face.
His eyes had the same coldness as the soul-freezing winter of the
north.
“Because of the multilayered deployment of those metal clouds
—the Eintagsfliege—the United Kingdom is rapidly cooling. Along
with the capital, half of our territories’ south is blanketed by their
wings.”
The Electronic Disruption type, the Eintagsfliege, was capable
of deflecting and disrupting electronic waves of all kinds, light
included. In the Eighty-Sixth Sector, their hordes resembled thin
silver clouds that blotted out the sun, and on the Federacy’s
fronts, where their deployment was more intense, the sky seemed
to be constantly shut out behind oppressive silver.
But there were no documented cases of them ever deploying
in numbers significant enough to create snowfall during late
spring, or over such a large radius…
“When did this start?”
“Around when the mass-produced intelligent Legion you call
Sheepdogs became the main force. In other words, early this
spring.”
It was as she suspected.
“Our southern agricultural regions will be devastated at this
rate… This country wasn’t too blessed with sunlight to begin with,
so the majority of our electricity comes from geothermal, coal-
based, and nuclear power plants. But if we divert all our
production plants to producing food, we won’t be able to defend
ourselves. If the Legion keep tightening the noose around our
necks like this, by next spring, my country won’t exist.”
With a wave of his hand, a three-dimensional hologram
appeared in the middle of the room. It was a solid map that
displayed a simplified view of the United Kingdom’s territories. As
she saw Shin approach the map, likely sensing there was an
explanation coming, Lena said, “If they use the same tactic
elsewhere, the Federacy might be fine, given its large territory,
but any other country wouldn’t last.”
“Yes. And that’s why we have to nip their plan in the bud now,
while they’re still using the United Kingdom as a testing ground.
Thankfully, the Federacy and the United Kingdom have the same
objective. The Merciless Queen you lot are looking for is deep
within the Legion’s territory, in the Eintagsfliege production site in
the depths of the Dragon Fang Mountain.”
The display showed the Dragon Corpse mountain range,
namely the part near the border with the Republic, which was the
United Kingdom’s battlefield. It then switched to a three-
dimensional model depicting the Dragon Fang Mountain, which lay
deep within the mountain range. It seemed there was a
production plant there. The hologram also displayed the estimated
number of hostiles and the linear distance from the nearest front,
which was an estimated seventy kilometers.
“The objective of this joint operation is the invasion and
retaking of the Dragon Fang Mountain and the capture of the
Merciless Queen.”
“Precisely, Bloody Reina. We will have you shoot down the
moon for us.”
Gazing at the model of the Dragon Fang Mountain, which, as
its name implied, was shaped like a massive fang sticking out
toward the heavens with a typical rocky, pyramidal peak, Lena
spoke:
“Your Highness.”
“It’s Vika, Milizé.”
“Pardon, Vika. I would like for you to confirm the force you’ll
be commanding during this operation. I’ve heard your country
employs autonomous unmanned weapons to defend its borders.”
This was the reason for the United Kingdom’s ability to defend
its territory despite its national power being inferior to the
Federacy’s. Vika broke into a small, cynical smile.
“Half autonomous. We wouldn’t make the folly of bringing fully
autonomous weapons into the fray with the example of the Legion
breathing down our necks. Besides, the United Kingdom hasn’t
reproduced an autonomous AI on the level of the Legion.”
“But that’s… Even you can’t reproduce it, Vika?”
“It’s not that I can’t. I simply have no desire to.”
The prince said this in a self-important manner, as if to say he
could do it if he put his mind to it, with the same lightness as if
they were discussing a slightly complicated cooking recipe. But
even as the survival of his country and the countless lives of his
civilians hung in the balance, he easily cut down the possibility,
saying he wasn’t up to it.
Lena realized she’d gotten a glimpse of the cruelty of noble
blood, which the Republic, with its emphasis on equality, wasn’t
familiar with. Blue blood, lacking any and all warmth.
“The drone you describe is called an Alkonost. It’s a half-
autonomous Feldreß meant for combating large groups of
enemies… In terms of ratio, they make up fifty percent of our
forces, with the other half being our manned Barushka
Matushkas, but the units under my direct command are almost
entirely Alkonosts. Including my personal unit, Barushka
Matushkas are only used for defending the command post.”
“You say ‘half-autonomous’… So they’re operated remotely by
humans—by Handlers, yes? Is the method of operation wireless?
How do you bypass the Eintagsfliege’s electronic disruption?”
“Alkonosts are connected to their Handlers via the technology
you call the Para-RAID.”
Lena knit her brows dubiously. The Para-RAID—Sensory
Resonance—was a communication method that made use of
linking senses, mostly hearing, by way of the collective
unconscious shared by all humankind. In so doing, it overcame
the obstacles of distance, physical obstruction, and all manner of
jamming.
That, in and of itself, made it extremely groundbreaking
technology, but since it employed the human collective
unconscious, it didn’t allow one to communicate with anything
that wasn’t human—namely machines, which didn’t have a
consciousness of their own.
Or rather, as far as Lena knew, it shouldn’t have enabled
communication with anything that wasn’t human.
“B-but how…?”
“I’ll show you right now. Lerche, are you there?”
He didn’t raise his voice, but a response came from behind the
door.
“Of course.”
“I’ll introduce you. Come in.”
“Yes.”
The door opened. Remaining at a distance that was a bit too
far to hold a conversation, the figure knelt in a lively manner.
“’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Lerche,
knight and royal guard to Prince Viktor. I serve as his sword and
shield.”
The figure spoke with a clear, high-pitched, pleasant voice, like
the chirping of a songbird.
“The Republic’s Lady Bloody Reina and the Federacy’s Sir
Reaper, Sir Wehrwolf, and Lady Cyclops. I’ve heard much of your
military fame. Especially you, Sir Reaper. I would very much like to
be instructed by you, if given the chance.”
As mentioned, her voice was like lovely chirping.
“And as for the lovely princess over there, I welcome you to
our snow-white country. I’m always willing to accommodate if
playing in the snow suits your fancy, so feel free to call for me
whenever you wish.”
Redundant though it may be to mention again, her voice was
exceedingly pleasant.
“…I’m sorry—give me a minute.”
Vika raised his hands, walked over to the kneeling figure, and
shouted at her lowered head.
“Lerche! Didn’t I tell you to take this chance to change the way
you speak to people?!”
She lifted her face in surprise. She was an Emeraud girl with
golden hair tied tightly in a bun and green eyes. She seemed to
be the same age as Vika, which meant she was also roughly the
same age as Lena and Shin. She was dressed in an old-style
military uniform made of rouge-colored fabric and decorated with
golden laces, with a formal-looking saber sheathed at her waist.
She had petite, lovely facial features, and her thin eyebrows were
scrupulously upturned in protest.
“What…? Your Highness, what are you saying?! This is proof of
my fealty to you, and even your orders will not deter me!”
“What vassal would adopt a manner of speech that disturbs
their master as proof of their fealty?! Are you an idiot, you seven-
year-old?!”
“Good advice, just like effective medicine, is oh so bitter, Your
Highness! And that is why, despite the sorrow it brings me, I treat
you with undying respect! To have my actions seen under such
scrutiny shames me to no end…!”
Vika cradled his head in annoyance.
“Aaaah, confound it all—no matter what I say, you always have
a retort…! What bloody fool tuned your linguistic features…?!”
“…With all due respect, Your Highness, the only one who has
ever handled my tuning is you.”
“I know that—I’m just grumbling! By God, just ignore it!”
 “M-my—I apologize for any disrespect…!”
The girl’s reply was respectful yet despondent. Watching the
conversation between the two, who didn’t seem to mesh quite
right, Lena couldn’t help but giggle, albeit with pangs of guilt.
She’d wondered what kind of man this King of Corpses would be,
but seeing him frolic about with his friendly attendant made him
seem like nothing more than a boy their age.
“…How do I put this? I suppose one’s reputation really is
removed from reality.”
She whispered this so only Shin could hear. But no response
came. Looking up at Shin, she found his expression was oddly stiff
as he stared at the lord and his servant standing near the door.
Specifically, his gaze was fixed on Lerche, the girl in the crimson
uniform.
“…Captain? What—?”
Shin spoke up, cutting off Lena’s query.
“…Your Highness.”
Vika narrowed his eyes with interest—the Imperial violet eyes
of an ill-natured tiger or perhaps those of a vicious serpent.
“I’ll say it again, but Vika will do, Nouzen.”
“Fine, Vika… What is that thing?”
“Captain…!”
When Lena realized the “thing” Shin was referring to was
Lerche, she chastised him. Vika, on the other hand, gave him a
thin smile.
“Ooh. I see your title of Reaper is well-earned, indeed…
Lerche.”
“Yes.”
“Show them.”
“Very well.”
Lerche rose to her feet briskly, as if she were a knight taking
off her helmet…

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

No one in attendance could blame Lena for taking a frightened

step back.
“What…?!”
 Frederica’s large eyes widened in shock, and Raiden and
Shiden leaned forward from the wall they’d been standing against.
Even Shin, who wasn’t one for flinching, narrowed his eyes in
suspicion. Vika alone remained composed.
“Allow me to properly introduce her. This is the first unit of the
Artificial Fairies—the Sirins. The pinnacle of the United Kingdom’s
technological achievements and the crux of our national defense.”
With a wave of Vika’s hand, a sensor located somewhere in the
room reacted, projecting a hologram near his slender form. That
was likely the Alkonost. The three-dimensional model displayed a
Feldreß that was more slender than the Juggernaut, so much so
that it made them doubt if it was armored at all. Its torso included
a small cockpit hardly large enough to contain a human.
“This is the central processor of the semiautonomous combat
machine Alkonost.”
The Eighty-Six weren’t considered human, so any machine they
piloted would be considered not a manned one but a drone. It
was the same concept…as the Republic’s Juggernaut.

Lerche’s detached head was connected to her torso with tubes

and cords that looked like blood vessels and nerves.
“Is she…human?”
Vika snickered wryly.
“You ask that question after seeing what you’ve just seen,
Bloody Reina? Recall what Nouzen just said. And consider…how
did he so easily see her for what she is?”
Lena swallowed nervously. Shin could hear the voices of the
Legion—or rather, the voices of the war dead who remained
trapped mechanical ghosts. But the girl in front of them couldn’t
be a Legion, since they never fashioned weapons in human form.
They were forbidden from making a weapon that looked too
similar to a human being.
In which case…
Shin spoke, as if to not let Lena voice her conclusion.
“It uses a dead person’s brain…or rather, a reproduction of
one, as its central processor.”
His bloodred eyes glared at Vika with an intensity Lena had
never seen before.
For Shin, who’d heard the voices of his comrades after they’d
been captured by the Legion and who’d even had to gun down his
own brother, who’d been trapped in that condition, the United
Kingdom, which had made the girl standing before him, was guilty
of unparalleled heresy.
It carelessly walked all over the line that separated the living
from the dead. Capturing the souls of those who had earned their
eternal rest and using them once again for the sake of battle
meant…
It was an icy glare that would make any normal person falter,
but Vika didn’t so much as wince.
“Bull’s-eye, Reaper of the Eighty-Sixth Sector. All of these girls’
central processors are reproductions based off human brain
structures.”
They bore an odd resemblance to—or perhaps were inspired
by—the intelligent Legion, the Shepherds.
“Wait a moment… If those were originally human brains,
then…”
Lena’s voice was so stiff and sharp she had trouble recognizing
it. The United Kingdom was the only despotic monarchy on the
continent. The citizens were all essentially property of the nobility.
“…where, and for what reason, did you gather the people
those brains belonged to?”
Vika tilted his head in an amused fashion.
“Are you insinuating that we arrogant despots dismember our
citizens against their wills? Then you may be disappointed to hear
the Idinarohk line isn’t quite that foolish. We know well enough
that all that awaits us at the end of mindless tyranny is the
guillotine’s kiss… The components are all given voluntarily and are
extracted only after they die in battle. Strictly speaking, it’s right
before their deaths. If a soldier who voluntarily donated his body
in advance is marked as black during triage—and under those
conditions alone—he’s sent to have his brain scanned. Even those
who volunteered aren’t sent to the scanner if there’s a chance of
saving their lives, and volunteering is entirely optional.”
In a place as dangerous as the battlefield, there were more
injured soldiers in need of treatment than there were doctors to
treat them. To handle such situations, a method was established
to ensure as many lives were saved as possible; that was triage.
It was a measure to segregate those injured who weren’t at risk
of death or didn’t require treatment right away from those who
required immediate resuscitation.
Among them were black tags—those categorized as being in a
condition in which they were beyond saving even if they were
treated. The name came from the color of the tag attached to
them. They were the ones who were found too late or the ones
who were still alive but were injured to the point that they would
die in a matter of moments.
“The digitized brain structure is reproduced via artificial cells,
and after their memories are erased and their pseudo-
personalities are installed, they’re transplanted into the Sirins’
skulls. In other words, they may be based off the war dead, but
they’re not the dead themselves. I am a bit surprised you can still
hear them, Nouzen.”
“But…why?”
The Legion used the brains of the dead, too, but they were
weapons. They didn’t have any perception of ethics and justice, of
right and wrong, so it was understandable. But Vika was human…
or rather, he should have been human.
“Why? I think it’s quite obvious. Unlike the Legion, who keep
coming no matter how many times you beat them back, humans
are finite. Our ability to reproduce is limited. So if we can’t lower
the numbers of those who’ll die, we need only recycle those who
have already passed away. Send wolves to hunt wolves. Vampires
to hunt vampires.”
Ghosts to hunt down ghosts.
It was a perversion that made chills run through Lena’s body—
utter desecration. And unaware of Lena’s aversion, Vika smiled.
Like a serpent. Like a heartless beast, removed from the concept
of emotions.
The King of Corpses. Devoid of sympathy and hence detached
from humanity—the cold-blooded ruler of the dead.
“A-and…you call that…a drone…?!”
“Your words cut to the bone, but this is something you’ll have
to get used to. The weapons and soldiers the United Kingdom will
add to the Strike Package will be Alkonosts and Sirins. Namely,
the regiment under my direct command.”
With that said, the prince of the north smiled calmly, regarding
Lena as she shivered and Shin, who glared at him harshly, as if
they were rocks on the wayside.
“Until we wipe out the Legion or until they exterminate
humankind…I hope we will enjoy each other’s company.”

In one corner of the castle of the country that held the entire
northeast under its thumb sat an Imperial villa. It was being used
as a lodging house, and its rooms were pleasant, luxurious, and
beautiful.
As she lay on a bed and compared the plumage inside it to the
shabby ones she’d had back at the frontline bases and the
internment camp in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, Shiden pondered how
far they had come. While she couldn’t say this bed was
uncomfortable or something she couldn’t get used to, she got the
feeling sleeping on it too long would make her go blunt. In both
mind and body.
Slapping her palms over sheets that smelled of flowers or
some other herbal scent, the Brísingamen squadron’s vice captain,
Shana, leaned over Shiden, who lay faceup on the bed.
“Hey, Shiden.”
Not bothering to turn her gaze toward Shana, Shiden gave a
noncommittal response.
“Mm.”
“Is it all right?”
“Yeah…”
She didn’t specify what “it” was, but they’d been together long
enough for Shiden to understand even without any explicit
statements. The shock was probably too much. Ever since she’d
met the prince that afternoon, Lena had been crestfallen, and
Shin, who had walked up to her when he saw her sunken into the
lodging house’s sofa and lying still, would be by her side right
about now.
“Not much we can do. Her Majesty made her choice.”
“But…”
 Shiden fixed her two-colored eyes on the window located right
above her.
“There’d be more to think about if the Li’l Reaper was more of
a jackass. But all things considered, it’s fine, I guess.”
She’d checked only briefly that he was all right, but that was
all. It was in no way an acknowledgment.
“…No one can tell when everything will end. Same as always,
really. In which case…so long as I’m at her side, I don’t want to
be a nuisance.”

“—It is ever so dreadfully cold here… But the city flourishes! More
so than one might expect of a capital in wartime, I daresay.”
The United Kingdom’s capital of Arcs Styrie was an old city with
a history as storied as that of the country itself. The townscape
told of prosperity, development, and the countless disturbances
and upheavals in its past, with a peculiar view of many buildings,
each built at different times across multiple centuries. The trend
was that the exteriors were painted in bright colors, in a manner
typical of a land under the cover of snow for half of every year.
Today, too, the Eintagsfliege’s clouds hid away the sun, and
light snow flitted down from the heavens. The main thoroughfare
was full of passersby, with colorful shops and stands making up
the market. Wearing a Federacy coat over her Republic uniform,
Lena looked around at the lively town with her eyes wide.
Annette, also in a coat, as well as Grethe, Frederica, and Raiden,
who’d come as their escort, looked around curiously, too.
That day after breakfast, the chief of the technology division—
a man so thin he was almost skeletal—had proposed that since
they had some free time, they should go out and see the capital,
pointing out that the ladies would also get a chance to shop that
way. Half of the offer stemmed from consideration, and the other
was meant to uplift diplomatic relations.
And indeed, they wanted to show off the abundance and
prosperity of their country to the first field officers visiting from
abroad in over a decade—and in so doing also casually stress the
strength of their army.
Shiden and Shana had passed on the opportunity, while Shin
had seemingly been called upon by Vika, so they’d stayed behind
in the palace. The royal guards had invited Shiden’s group to take
a tour of the military museum instead.
“Amazing… I guess that’s what one might expect from the
thousand-year capital of the mighty country of the north, Roa
Gracia…”
“I think we needed a break, so that officer’s offer came at just
the right time. That technology really is a bit hard to swallow.”
“I’m glad both of our sides had something to teach the other
about the Para-RAID, but… Even if they say they used willing
volunteers, it’s one record of human experimentation after
another… It’s a little, kind of, really… You know…”
Exchanging bitter smiles, Grethe and Annette discussed the
Sirins and their related technologies. Hearing that this technology
couldn’t quite be adopted by the Federacy made Grethe cradle her
head despondently.
Some of the structures making up the glamorous town were
barracks, armories, and other military installations used by the
capital defense division headquarters, and many of the people
walking about were clad in the United Kingdom military’s purple-
and-black uniform. Just like in the Federacy, soldiers were seen as
subjects deserving respect. A young Beryl female soldier walking
nearby was greeted with a polite nod by an older, violet-haired
Iola man.
Looking around, Annette said, “Viola are the citizens, and the
other ethnic groups from conquered territories are serfs, right?
But all things considered, serfs get to live normally.”
Pureblood Viola children—that is to say, citizens—were playing
about with a ball, but serf children from other ethnicities were
playing by their side as if there was no difference between them.
A pair of people of different colors were sitting at the same table
in a café, chatting over coffee. An old Celesta lady running a stall
was currently ardently arguing over the price of a large jar of
honey with a Taaffe woman. The negotiations concluded with a
tight shake of hands, after which the two exchanged a bill for the
merchandise and parted with smiles. “I’ll come again” and “You’re
always welcome,” the two said with pleased expressions.
Overall, the serfs were the working class, and the citizens were
the middle class, and as such, there was a difference in the
quality of their clothing and personal belongings, but the serfs
weren’t considered slaves or untouchables—there was no
indication that some children were treated as a lesser race, like
the Eighty-Six once were.
The palace guard assigned to Lena’s group as their guide and
interpreter smiled. The United Kingdom’s official language was
different only in dialect from the Republic’s and the Federacy’s,
but since some of the serfs were descended from conquered
territories that had different cultural spheres, a number of them
spoke in entirely different languages.
“The citizens are expected to give military service, while the
serfs are expected to handle production,” explained the guard. “In
a way, it’s a difference between conscription and tax liability. But
with the situation the way it is right now, the royalty is
encouraging the serfs to voluntarily join the military.
“Like him,” he said, gesturing toward a sentinel. He was a
reserved Rubis man who looked about twenty years old, wore a
brand-new second lieutenant rank insignia, and smiled at them
with sheepish pride. All this meant was that higher education was
open to all, at least those with the means to afford it.
As Vika had said, the United Kingdom may have been a
despotic monarchy, but it didn’t put any political pressure on its
citizens. It did nothing that would stir up unrest or insurrection,
nor did it create unnecessary class differences. Unlike the
Republic, which, after taking everything away from the Eighty-Six
by confiscating their assets to fund the construction of the Gran
Mur and forcing them into conscription, had marked them as
subhumans.
“…Milizé? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
Shaking her head vaguely, Lena then said doubtfully:
“By the way…I wonder what business Vika had with Shin?”

Shin was told to come with his coat on, and rightly so, as the
underground staircase Vika led him down was extremely cold.
“The northernmost mountains in the United Kingdom are the
Frost Woe mountain range. There’s an ice grotto there extending
all the way to the Kingdom’s underground, where the royal
mausoleum was built. The ice here never melts, so it’s frigid even
in the summer… It’s a huge mess if one of the servants’ children
sneaks in here carelessly.”
The staircase itself, which seemed to be carved out of glacial
stone, drew a gentle spiral as it descended deep underground.
The place was inlaid with great-green-turban shells shining in the
seven prismatic colors.
The Federacy military’s issued trench coat was made for
fighting in the frozen trenches of the Federacy’s snowy north and
was both waterproof and protective against the cold. Still, Shin
furrowed his brow as the cold stabbed into his lungs with each
breath he took. Vika, who was walking ahead, was breathing out
equally visible puffs of air.
“…In olden times, those of noble birth were naturally royalty.
Kings were seen as living gods given flesh, gifted with unique
powers. A Pyrope’s telepathy and psychometry, an Onyx’s martial
prowess, a Celena’s intimidation. Many of those lessened and
faded with the mixing of blood and the passage of time, but they
still somewhat remained in lands where royalty and nobility
retained their authority and bloodline. That applied for the Empire
of Giad and the United Kingdom, as well. Among those was the
Amethysta’s augmented intellect—put simply, bloodlines that
produce extraordinary geniuses.”
Only one pair of footsteps was audible; Shin made no sound as
he walked, and there was no one around but him and Vika. Being
a commander, if Vika had business with anyone, it would be Lena,
but he’d called Shin alone. Shin, a single Processor who would
usually be seen as nothing more than a pawn.
Vika’s intent here was unclear. With his voice thick with the
strong aversion he’d felt upon seeing the Sirin, Shin asked a
question with a terribly curt voice. He couldn’t be bothered to pay
respects to one of higher authority to begin with.
“…Why are you telling me this?”
“Hmm? Because you are a Pyrope Esper, of course. Your
bloodline on your mother’s side, the Maikas, died out during the
persecution of the other Eighty-Six… I thought you would be
interested in learning a bit about it. Was I wrong?”
“I don’t care for it.”
“Hmm?”
Vika turned to face him with a somewhat dubious expression
but eventually turned around again and shrugged.
“Well, regardless of whether you’re interested, this is sadly a
necessary preface to my main topic here. Bear with me patiently,
even if you find it boring.”
Vika descended from the last stair in the long staircase, the
sound of his military boots resonating heavily. At the end of the
aged passageway was a sudden shift into a new, state-of-the-art
metallic door, which recognized something Vika was carrying and
opened automatically. Frigid air, even compared to the chilly
staircase, poured out silently from the doorway, but Vika paid the
cold no mind as he crossed the threshold.
“The royal family is the last Amethysta bloodline to carry Esper
abilities, and we are at the same time guardians of much
knowledge and wisdom that would otherwise be lost to the ages.”
Light illuminated the unknowable darkness, radiantly shining
and twinkling over all. The place was a huge dome that seemed
to be fashioned entirely out of ice, filled with transparent blue as
far as the eye could see. The ice was so thick the rock face behind
wasn’t visible through it. An endlessly transparent, bottomless
blue.
Countless icicles extended down from the dome’s ceiling, which
felt like some kind of pagan chapel, and a path of ice extended
farther in from the spacious area they were in. Almost annoyingly,
even here the ice was inlaid with malachite and amethyst in the
shape of a peacock’s feathers, which twinkled from the surface of
the icy walls.
But what caught Shin’s attention straight ahead was no
collaboration between the natural and the artificial. Running along
the dome’s icy walls and on both sides of the passageway, like
formations of crystals, were countless…
…coffins made of ice.
The coffins were egg-shaped and crafted out of silver and
glass. Each of them contained a figure clad in a purple-and-black
uniform or dress. Most of them were adults, but some coffins
contained children or infants. Others contained what looked to be
only pieces of bodies wrapped in bindings or some personal effect
buried in their place. The interior was filled with highly
transparent ice, and the emblem of a unicorn carved into the
glass’s surface using a laser was entwined with a thin layer of
frost.
Standing among the coffins, Vika turned around, the hem of
his white coat spilling forward.
“And as a symbol of that legacy, our remains are preserved. All
those descended from the Idinarohk line are enshrined in this
frozen mausoleum. The earlier generations are already more or
less mummified by now, of course… Now, then.”
He gestured toward a coffin standing right behind him. The
one next to it was still empty. Within that casket was a woman
spreading out her hands as if floating on water with her eyes
gently closed.
“This is Mariana Idinarohk—my mother.”

The remains of the woman sealed within the coffin closely

resembled Vika, who stood right in front of her. Had it not been
for the differences of age and sex, they’d have been spitting
images of each other. She seemed to be in her late twenties or
her thirties and was dressed in a magnificent violet dress, the
color of the United Kingdom’s royalty, and on her forehead was a
silver tiara set with cut gemstones.
But it was then that Shin felt something wrong. The delicate
silver tiara set on Queen Mariana’s remains. Of all the deceased
lined up here, she was the only one to wear a crown. And even
Shin, his knowledge of adornments being as meager as it was,
could tell its position was off. A tiara wasn’t worn right above the
eyes, after all.
And right below the silvery gleam of the tiara, a straight red
line was cut into her white forehead. Unlike the living, a wound
inflicted on a corpse never healed—a part that was cut open
never truly closed.
 Vika smiled faintly.
“So you’ve noticed… That’s right. My mother’s corpse is
missing its brain. Because I extracted it. Thirteen years ago.”
There was no way Shin wouldn’t realize upon being told that.
The Legion had been developed twelve years ago. And also…
Mariana.
“The Mariana Model…”
“Yes. The artificial intelligence that was the basis of the Legion,
the blight of humankind. The component that composed it…was
my mother.”
Or rather, her brain.
So this was how, Shin thought bitterly. This was how the
Legion had come up with the absurd idea of assimilating humans’
neural networks to replace their central processors. If they were
originally based on a human brain, in an attempt to reproduce
one, then they were simply functioning as designed, in
accordance with the hypothesis.
But one question remained.
“…Why?”
That one question was overflowing with doubts. Why make
such a thing? Why go so far as desecrating your own mother’s
remains? Why use your mother—even if only her corpse—as a
guinea pig?
But Vika simply shrugged plainly.
“I wanted to meet her.”
Despite them being the same age, and contrary to his graceful
appearance, he spoke with the tone of a small child.
“Mother passed away soon after giving birth to me… I was a
difficult delivery, and she lost too much blood—something that
can happen during any childbirth, and as far as Father
investigated, there was no foul play involved. And yet…”
Breaking off, Vika looked up at his mother in her casket. Those
white hands, which may have never even held him.
“…I never knew my mother’s voice.”
The words spilling from his lips were filled with a longing for
something he’d never had—and so they resonated with terrible
loneliness.
“Even the Idinarohks’ Espers can’t remember what happened
right as they were born. I’ve spoken to Father, Brother Zafar, and
my wet nurse, asking them to tell me all they could remember of
her. But it couldn’t fill the void.”
“…”
“—But if that’s the case…”
His thin lips then suddenly contorted upward in a lurid, vicious
smile. Vika grinned, his Imperial violet eyes shining with
reminiscence. Like a monster. Like a demon. Somehow Shin knew
that thirteen years ago, a Vika so young Shin couldn’t imagine
him had had the same smile on his lips.
That all-too-innocent smile.
“If I don’t know her—if I lost her—I need only bring her back.
That’s what I thought… Because her remains—her brain, with all
her memories and personality intact—were preserved right
here…!”
Fanatical delusion, completely absent of all restraint. He would
defile a person’s remains, seal their memories and personality in a
machine, and in so doing, transcend death… His eyes were absent
of all guilt or dread at the prospect of having committed such a
taboo. There was no distinction between good and evil. Nothing
but the utter coldheartedness…which saw satisfying his desire as
the one and only absolute.
A cold shiver the likes of which he’d never known before ran
through Shin. He was unable to see his own expression but was
well aware of how severe and tense it was. The thing standing
before him wasn’t a human, but a genuine, innocent monster that
knew neither humanity nor reason.
Swallowing his emotions, he asked:
“…And then?”
Vika shrugged casually.
“I failed.”
The dead can never again truly walk among the living. Even
Vika couldn’t overturn that law.
“Mother’s brain was lost for naught, and I was faulted for
desecrating the queen’s remains and stripped of my succession
rights. Which was fine; I never wanted those to begin with, but…
at the time, I hadn’t given up on my mother yet.”
He’d thought perhaps his mistake lay in being too young.
Maybe his knowledge was lacking, or perhaps there was a hole in
his theory—he’d failed because he’d gotten something wrong.
That was how Vika still saw the world at the time. That if one
were to employ the right method, the desired result would always
occur. He innocently believed that the world worked in such a
neat, satisfying way.
He believed that things would always go well.
“So I uploaded all my data to the public network.”
At the time, he didn’t imagine that it would be an act that
would rattle the military balance of the surrounding countries. He
may have been the youngest child, but he was still the prince of a
large kingdom. His name was well-known even though he was
only five years of age. His writings had neither the appearance
nor the linguistic composition of something worthy of being called
a thesis, and given the absurd topic of resurrecting the dead,
most researchers didn’t even spare them a single glance.
However…
“That’s when you met Major Zelene Birkenbaum.”
“Yes. A few curious, whimsical people contacted me from
different countries, and she was one of them.”
One of the few who, despite the writer’s age and childish
writing style, recognized the potential of this new artificial
intelligence model was Zelene. At the time, she was researching
autonomous weapons in the Imperial military laboratory.
“I knew what Zelene was researching and what she was
thinking when she developed those autonomous weapons—the
Legion. But…”
He didn’t think she would end up turning that weapon against
him. That the Empire would bare its fangs at all other countries.
He never realized the consequence the actions he made to fulfill
his dream would result in—
“…by the time the Empire declared war, Zelene had already
passed away… Albeit indirectly, I’m the one who stole your
homeland and family away. Do you loathe me for it?”
He spread out his arms. From the fluttering of his clothes, it
was apparent that he didn’t carry any firearms. He was completely
defenseless, without a single escort or bodyguard to defend him.
That was probably his idea of good faith. After all, Vika never told
Shin not to bring any firearms when he called him over. And Shin
still carried his handgun on him, just as he had grown used to
from years in the Republic.
But Shin answered, with his mind fixed on the familiar weight
he was carrying:
“…No.”
He had never thought of the Republic as his homeland, and he
hardly remembered his family or anything else from that bygone
era. If Vika said those had been stolen from him, he was likely
correct, but for Shin…those no longer counted as things he had
lost. It was the same as if they’d never existed to begin with, and
if so, there was nothing to resent… Nothing to loathe.
“I don’t think they’ve been stolen from me… And even if they
were, you had nothing to do with it.”
“…Once again, you speak indifferently, as if you never needed
those things in the first place. Even though you had a mother,
unlike me.”
Vika shook his head with a bitter smile. His violet eyes clouded
over with envy and jealousy for a moment, before those feelings
were washed away in a split second.
“Now, then. While you seem quite disinterested overall, this
concludes my confession. On to the main topic, the Eighty-Sixth
Sector’s headless Reaper.”
How could one describe Vika’s expression at that moment? It
was both a look of entreaty and one of terror. As if he desired
judgment and wished for hope. As if he desired both an affirming
answer and words of denial and, while fearing them the whole
time, couldn’t help but ask:
“Is my mother…still here…?”
He wished to hear of his mother’s eternal peace but at the
same time wished to see her again.
So this is what he called me for, Shin thought in an oddly
hollow mood. His ability to hear the cries of the deceased who
lingered after death. With that, he’d be able to tell whether Vika’s
mother was still here or whether she’d gained the peace of death.
Perhaps he would try again to resurrect her.
He’d attempt it or resign himself to give up…because he would
know whether she was present.
 Was that really something to be so fixated on? The thought
crossed Shin’s mind faintly. Shin couldn’t remember his mother’s
face, but he didn’t feel any lingering regrets over that fact. And
still, Vika wished so deeply for a mother whose voice he’d never
known, who’d never held him.
Standing eye to eye with Vika, Shin shook his head.
“No.”
His brother, Kaie, and the many Eighty-Six who’d died were
trapped on the battlefield, with the Legion using their brain
structures as central processors. Despite the fact that they’d died
and should have gone back to where they belonged, they
remained trapped.
There weren’t lingering thoughts or attachments, and they
certainly didn’t have any affection to them. Emotions couldn’t
overturn the rules of nature. The world…simply wasn’t kind
enough to leave that much behind. It wasn’t kind to anyone, be
they living or dead.
Kiriya’s wish to avenge Frederica had burned down with the
Morpho’s destruction. And his brother—the brother who’d waited
for him for so long—had disappeared once he’d lost the
Dinosauria that had served as his container.
Gone. They weren’t anywhere anymore.
“Your mother’s remains are only a corpse. I can’t hear any
voice coming from it… Your mother isn’t in there anymore.”
“What about Lerche, then?”
Shin furrowed his brow, as the next question surprised him.
“What about the Sirins? You could hear the voices coming from
them, right? Lerche is… They’re inside those bodies. So do the
souls inside those girls…long to pass on?”
“………Yes.”
Shin nodded, wondering all the while why Vika cared so much
if they were only parts of a drone to him. But Shin could hear it
from them. It wasn’t a scream nor a wail of anguish, but he could
hear the lament in those voices. The voice of a girl he’d never met
before and of countless unfamiliar soldiers.
“They keep crying…saying they want to pass on.”
Vika gave a faint, light, but bitter smile. A self-deprecating grin.
“…I see.”
 Looking back at Vika, Shin parted his lips to speak. As always,
he couldn’t understand or relate to the person before him.
“Can I ask you something, too?”
Vika blinked once in what seemed like surprise.
“…Yes. If it’s anything I can answer.”
“Do you really want to meet your mother this much, when
you’ve never even heard her voice?”
He’d understood this man felt no aversion to cutting open her
remains. But still, it was a person’s body, with the mass and
weight of an adult woman. And the human skull was hard. And
yet the then-five-year-old Vika still had to carry it away and cut it
open. Had he really gone that far for no other reason than his
desire to see her again? For someone whose voice he’d never
known, someone he’d never met, someone who was his mother in
name only?
Vika seemed dumbstruck for a moment.
“Well… Yes. Though they have different ways of expressing it,
children love their parents. Especially so if they cannot meet
them… Allow me to ask you in turn, but do you…”
Breaking off, Vika squinted.
“…not wish to meet your parents?”
“There’s no meeting the dead again.”
That was the irreversible cosmic law Shin—the one with the
extrasensory ability to hear the voices of the dead—knew. He
could hear their voices, but they were nothing more than the
screams of one’s final death throes. There could be no dialogue,
no communication, no understanding established… No matter
how much both sides may wish for it.
The dead can never mingle with the living.
“I see. Hence, you don’t desire to remember them.”
It was Shin’s turn to narrow his eyes in scrutiny. Those words
again.
It’s not that you can’t remember your childhood.
You don’t want to remember it.
“…What makes you say that?”
“You have no interest in your late mother’s genealogy. Despite
the things that’ve been taken from you, you hold no resentment.
But more than anything, the expression on your face tells of how
you don’t wish to have that topic touched on—how you loathe to
touch on it yourself. As if you suffer from a wound you don’t wish
to even acknowledge is there.”
“………”
A wound.
Vika smiled, as if he’d seen through Shin. He unleashed his
words cruelly, with a coldness that was almost merciful.
“But if that’s something you’re fine with, it’s not my place as a
stranger to comment on it… Taken to an extreme, a child’s
tendency to follow his parents is just another way of life. But if
you deem it acceptable to forget even that…sure enough, you will
see your parents again.”
 CHAPTER 2

CITADEL OF THE SWANS

The United Kingdom’s southern front’s Revich Observation Base.

The very picture of an impregnable fortress. Built atop rocky
mountains, it was surrounded on all sides by precipitous cliffs with
elevations ranging from a hundred meters at the lowest to three
hundred meters at the highest, with diamond-shaped peaks to the
north and south. The characteristically snow-white rock surface
was now transparent and sharp, with the snow and sleet covering
the incline making it thicker, and near the peak of the rock walls
were palisades made of layers of reinforced concrete and armored
boards. Another hundred meters away from the northern peak
was another large mountain, which served as the fulcrum of a
thick, reinforced canopy dome carved out of the rock face
covering the peak, like a swan spreading its wings.
The only gate into the base and the road leading up to it was
on an incline to the northwest, built over a winding, meandering
steep slope filled with twists and turns. Overlooking the ascending
road in the shape of an animal’s entrails were the multiple
menacing muzzles of gun turrets.
“It was originally one of our border fortresses, but right now
we’re using it as an impact-observation position.”
There were holes dotting the canopy covering the summit,
which stood like a pair of decaying wings. Trailing the pillars of
sunlight that shone down during twilight on snowy days, Vika led
Lena and her group. It was a wondrous sight, formed by the
glaciers’ whittling down the mountains.
Following in his footsteps, Lena looked around the surface
sector of the citadel base. This fortress would serve as the Strike
Package’s base for the operation in the Dragon Corpse mountain
range. As it had originally been a fortress, barrier walls separated
its interior into smaller sectors. A spiral staircase running
counterclockwise led up to the castle keep built against the
northern mountain. The castle keeps, which served as observation
towers nowadays, were partially built into the mountain’s interior,
giving a panoramic view of the battlefield surrounding the
fortress.
At the end of the gentle slope and currently out of sight were
the United Kingdom military’s artillery formation to the north and
the contested zones to the south. To the east and west were the
United Kingdom’s armored encampments. The country’s final
shield, the northern mountain range, had been reduced to a
Legion haunt by now.
In addition to the canopy blocking out the sunlight, the thick,
high partition walls separating the base into sectors gave the
surface sector a dark, suffocating feel. Shin squinted as he looked
around, perhaps wondering how this place would fare should
battle break out here.
“Impact observation?”
“This base is on the highest spot around here. Like all old
bases, it isn’t equipped to launch air strikes, but thankfully the
Legion don’t employ aerial combat, meaning even this old base is
still usable depending on the situation.”
While the Legion employed antiair forces, they didn’t have an
air force of their own. Legion capable of flight weren’t loaded with
weapons and, based on past precedents, didn’t use long-distance
missiles, either. That seemed to be another restriction placed on
them. So the United Kingdom took advantage of this weakness.
Snow gently flitted down from what should have been a late
spring’s sky.
They climbed the stairway leading up to the observation tower’s
third floor, which, for some reason, was a narrow spiral staircase,
and after crossing three blast hatches to the underground
residential sector, they were greeted by a shrill voice.
“Welcome back, Your Highness.”
“Yes, hello, Ludmila.”
A tall girl with almost unusually vibrant, flame-like red hair
greeted Vika. She was followed by a group of girls who, like her,
were clad in dark-red uniforms. The United Kingdom’s uniforms
were collared violet-and-black outfits. The dark-crimson uniforms,
on the other hand, were exclusively worn by the Sirins.
In other words, all the girls in attendance were not human.
Their heads were adorned with hair of various shades of blue,
green, and pink, with a degree of glossy transparency that no
amount of dye could produce. Violet-colored quasi-nerve crystals,
which were in charge of Para-RAID functionality and thought
suppression, were embedded deep in their foreheads. These
crystals were connected to the very cores of their artificial brains.
Lena blinked as she looked around. Vika’s ingenuity truly did
border on the supernatural, since it could produce girls that
looked indistinguishable from human beings. But did that power
truly come without any costs? The thought concerned her. But
setting that aside…
“They’re…all women.”
“Making them men would just feel disgusting.”
Even Vika noticed the cold gaze Lena directed his way.
“I’m joking, of course. At least, half joking… When we first
revealed them, the front lines were still occupied primarily by
men, so we made them female as a means to differentiate them.
At this point, the situation doesn’t allow us to be picky, and since
we have women and girls serving as soldiers as well, having the
Sirin’s hair colors be drastically different from the average
human’s ended up being a useful idea in hindsight.”
Was it really necessary to have them look human in the first
place…?
But as that thought crossed Lena’s mind, she was overcome
with shame. Just because they were mechanical, because their
“human brains” amounted to nothing more than replicas, she’d
treated something with a personality of its own—even if only an
artificial one—like a machine.
She also likely had trouble coming to grips with the necessity
that they resemble humans, who were harder to manage and
worse at attitude control. Lena imagined what it would be like if
she were to wake up one day and find she had become a huge,
disgusting insect. Her mental state would probably escalate far
beyond simple confusion and despair. Having six legs, wings on
her back, compound eyes, and feelers for sensory organs. It
would be a sensation that was entirely unlike being human, and
the human mind wouldn’t be able to endure the shock for long
before going completely mad.
…Rei had likely been the same. That young man who had so
loved his little brother but had reunited with him after becoming a
Legion and tried to take his life. He may well have felt the same
thing. The instincts of his Dinosauria body—of a Legion that was
far too different from a human being—had likely tormented him.
To have his desire to see his younger brother again twisted into
murderous intent…
She wanted to ask Vika for his opinion on the matter, but it
wasn’t something she could bring up in front of Shin. Even if she
were to omit certain names, Shin was clever and would eventually
realize what she was talking about… And even if he wouldn’t, she
felt as if she shouldn’t speak of it.
Just as she peeked in his direction, Shin began talking.
“…Are the only things distinguishing them from humans their
uniforms, hair colors, and the quasi-nerve crystals on their
foreheads?”
“If you mean in terms of aid on the battlefield, the type of unit
they pilot is fundamentally different, so that’s another source of
distinction. Worse, anyone who would try to treat their wounds
would realize soon enough. They’re almost entirely mechanical,
and heavy enough for one to tell. The master data for their brain
structures is stored in the production plant, and their combat
records are regularly being backed up, so even if they’re
abandoned on the battlefield, it’s fine… Also…”
Vika smirked arrogantly.
“…I wouldn’t underestimate them if I was you, Reaper. These
girls were made for battle. They won’t easily lose to humans in
that setting.”

“—Oh, Shin. Raiden and Frederica, too. You were transported

today. Saying ‘welcome back’ sounds…a little off, but still, it’s been
a while.”
Theo waved at them from where he sat at the corner of one of
the long tables filling the room, and Anju and Kurena, who were
sitting opposite him, turned around. They were in the Revich
Citadel Base’s third cafeteria, which was currently full of people,
some clad in the Federacy’s steel-blue uniforms and others in the
United Kingdom’s violet and black.
The citadel base’s functions were all concentrated in the
subterranean level built into the mountain’s bedrock, and its
multiple cafeterias were all set up in the underground residential
sector. The well-lit ceiling was very high, but the lack of windows
made the rectangular space feel oppressive. An azure sky was
artistically depicted across the ceiling’s surface, and the walls
were painted with fields of sunflowers the artist so clearly longed
for. The whole thing reminded Shin of a prison.
After each of them loaded their trays with food, Shin, Raiden,
and Frederica sat down, and Kurena tilted her head inquisitively.
“I heard Colonel Wenzel and, um, Annette, was it…? The
technical major chick. Anyway, I heard those two are staying
behind in the capital, but what about Lena?”
“She’s eating with the United Kingdom’s commanding officers
and staff officers.”
“She is a commanding officer, after all. She’s gotta play the role
when it comes to social gatherings and stuff.”
“Oh yeah… Looking back, it was like that when she’d just come
to the Federacy.”
As she spoke, Anju reached for several small jars in the center
of the table, which contained jam, honey, and other such
condiments to smear on bread. She shrugged and recommended
the berry jam.
It seemed it was true that the United Kingdom was at the end
of its rope. While it wasn’t as bad as the Eighty-Sixth Sector, more
than half the food on their trays was the bland-tasting synthetic
food from the production plants. If their means of food production
were devastated…then indeed, they wouldn’t survive the coming
winter.
As Shin silently ate his meat seasoned with sour cream and his
mashed potatoes, he could hear voices from the other tables
despite not really trying to listen to them. The forces of this base
were, putting the Strike Package’s Processors aside, mostly Sirins,
but it wasn’t entirely unmanned. The Sirin’s Handlers were there,
of course, as were the infantry who served as the base’s defense
forces, the maintenance crew, announcement teams, and a
gunner squad in charge of operating the base’s fixed artillery
cannons.
As per the United Kingdom’s law that stated the Viola were the
only ones who faced forced conscription, the majority of the
soldiers had violet eyes. As Raiden regarded them, he furrowed
his brow.
“In the capital, they said the only difference between civilians
and serfs was their duties, but…it looks like that ain’t the case,
once you get to the bottom of things.”
While there was no difference in the menus they were being
offered, the Violas didn’t sit at the same tables as people of
different colors and ethnic groups. The serf soldiers’ rank insignia
indicated they were only normal recruits and noncommissioned
officers, and even among fellow civilians, there was a difference in
rank and visible antagonism between the Iola and the Taaffe.
Viola soldiers would look and speak to others with noticeable
coldness. “Not only serfs but now foreign soldiers are stepping
onto our battlefields. Deplorable. Our brave fatherland is shamed.”
So they said, despite the foreign officers being of noble birth in
the Republic and the Federacy.
Theo turned his face away from them but stole apathetic
glances at them out of the corner of his eye.
“Unlike the Republic, all the classy races are the ones that
enlist… It’s kinda weird.”
“…? ’Tis the same in the Federacy, is it not? In Giad, the nobles
fight just the same. Most of the current officers are former nobles,
no?”
 In ancient times, military service had gone hand in hand with
the right to vote. Only those who fought had the right to make
political decisions. Only those who fought could stand above the
workers of the land. During that period, military service was seen
not as a duty but as a privilege of sorts.
“I mean, yeah, but that’s not what I was trying to say… It’s
like, in the Federacy you have the right to choose, but in the
United Kingdom, it’s like in the Republic. The color you were born
decides your position in society and your duties… But those
positions are reversed here. It’s weird.”
“………”
Maybe that’s why, Shin suddenly thought. The color and ethnic
group you’re born into cement your place in the world—the duties
you have to fulfill are decided the moment you’re born. It’s this
kind of country that would come up with the idea of repurposing
corpses for battle and would approve of using mechanical dolls
meant for war. The civilians are the ones who fight, after all, and
so their remains are also offered up for the war effort.
Just then, a pink-haired girl who looked to be in her early teens
approached the United Kingdom’s soldiers’ table. She reported
something, her face expressionless in a way that didn’t quite
match her youthful features. Not returning the smile of the
Handler who spoke to her, she turned around and walked off…
Sirins didn’t eat. So as not to needlessly waste energy packs,
they were typically stored in a unique hangar except for when
they were out on operations or training.
“…You hear about the Sirins?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Oh, be careful, though. Their Handlers
don’t like hearing people talk about them like they’re objects.
They kind of cherish them like they’re their lovers or little sisters
or something.”
“I guess Handlers really treasure their drones in this country,
huh.”
Kurena spat those words out with disgust… Shin couldn’t
blame her. Even in a despotic monarchy that didn’t place value on
equality or freedom, Handlers treated those mechanical girls like
human beings. Meanwhile, the Republic, which had equality and
freedom etched upon its very flag, not only treated the Eighty-Six
as inhuman but couldn’t even be bothered to lead them.
This was one brand of irony only they, the Eighty-Six, could
understand.
Not even Lena could.
Human beings had a way of treating other people like objects
or animals while, at the same time, cherishing objects and
livestock as if they were people. Not even she could understand
that all-too-ironic, fundamentally human cruelty.

When Vika came out, he saw Lena and drooped his shoulders.
“It’s almost time for lights-out… Visiting a man’s room this late
at night leaves you a bit too vulnerable, Milizé. You should have
Nouzen at your side when you’re out and about like this.”
“I have something to ask you… Something I don’t want others,
specifically Captain Nouzen, to hear about. Could we perhaps
speak in private?”
This was why she’d chosen to come now, after Shin had retired
to his lodging. Ignoring her, Vika headed to his own room. It
seemed he wore glasses when writing and reading. He spoke as
he removed his rather simply designed spectacles.
“Lerche, call anyone over, so long as it isn’t Nouzen… Yes, Iida
will do. Call her over. Oh, and you there, make sure the door
doesn’t close until Lerche comes back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“By your will, Your Highness.”
“Vika…!”
Still consciously ignoring Lena’s protests, Vika had a passing
soldier hold the door as Lerche hurried off. After quite a while,
Shiden showed up, after apparently having taken a hurried
shower, accompanied by Lerche. Glancing at her, Vika made a
dubious face.
“………Sorry. I didn’t intend to interrupt… Or so I should say,
but what were you doing?”
Despite being in the presence of a prince, Shiden turned her
face away in utter displeasure.
“What I do in my free time’s none of your business… Shit,
you’re not even listening, are you?”
 “No, I’m not. Act as Milizé’s guard dog for a bit. You may be a
woman, but you’re stronger than I am, if nothing else.”
“Well, listen to you, prince. A fistfight is one thing, but where’d
those calluses on your hands come from?”
“Hunting is a popular pastime in this country.”
“Whoa, scary, scary. Guess I better mind my p’s and q’s so you
don’t end up treating me like wild game, huh?”
Shiden raised both hands in a joking manner and, as
requested, plunked down on a five-person sofa like a lazy hound.
In contrast, Lena sat down politely, and Vika sat opposite them.
They were separated by a low table. Lerche set white porcelain
teacups and a tray inlaid with mother-of-pearl and loaded with
sweets on the table before moving to the back of the room. Then
Vika spoke.
“Well? If this is something you don’t want Nouzen to hear, it’s
about that, right…? Why me, then? I’m not knowledgeable about
that.”
“No, you’re probably…the most knowledgeable out of everyone
I know when it comes to this topic.”
Something that was lost to the Republic and hidden behind a
thick wall of military confidentiality in the Federacy.
“Extrasensory abilities.”
Vika’s expression suddenly turned blank.
“Captain Nouzen’s ability to hear the voices of the Legion. Aide
Rosenfort’s ability to see the past and present of her
acquaintances. These abilities offer great tactical advantages…
But don’t they harm those who possess them?”
That included Vika, the Idinarohks’ Esper. As such, she wasn’t
sure whether asking him was a good idea.
“Oh… So that’s what you wanted to know. I can see why those
without extrasensory powers might think so.”
Vika crossed his legs, ever aloof.
“As a principle, the answer to your question is no. Supernatural
abilities have always been necessary for leaders to guide the
masses. This has been true since time immemorial—since the era
when those of noble blood were truly kings. For an Esper, their
extrasensory ability is as natural as their other five senses. Does a
living being capable of sight damage its body simply by seeing?
The same idea applies here. There is no price to pay, so to speak.”
“But what about cases like Captain Nouzen, where his ability
changed from what it could initially do?”
“Is that what happened? Well, I see. I did think it was an odd
way for the Maika bloodline’s ability to manifest.”
Lena directed a puzzled expression at him, so Vika explained
that was Shin’s mother’s clan. Apparently, it was included in the
personnel file Vika had received.
“Such an example is rare, indeed… But if he sleeps for too long
at times, it’s likely because he’s subconsciously stabilizing his
balance of strain and rest. If he said he’s feeling unwell, it would
be another story, but I don’t think there’s much cause for worry
right now.”
“That…might be true, but…”
Vika tilted his head slightly, like a large snake eyeing some
unfamiliar small animal. Without a trace of warmth or emotion.
“Let me ask a question, then. If I were to tell you it does have
an adverse effect on him, what would you do?”
Lena blinked, seemingly taken by surprise.
“Huh?”
“To begin with, if you’re asking about that, why didn’t you
bring Nouzen with you? If you think it might have a negative
influence on him, it’s all the more reason for him to be present for
this conversation.”
“…Yes, but…”
He was one of the Eighty-Six—his raison d’être was to never
flee in the face of death.
“…Captain Nouzen would likely…still refuse to leave the
battlefield.”
Vika blinked once, over a long moment.
“Are you implying…that he’s a pitiful Eighty-Six who’s been
irreparably broken by war and rendered incapable of proper
judgment? And you, a normal, good-natured human being, have
the right to make that judgment call for him?”
Lena raised her face in a stiff gesture. She’d likely looked up at
him with such a pale, hard expression. Vika’s lips twisted with a
giggle, but something in his violet eyes wasn’t jovial in the
slightest.
 “Truly, you are arrogant. Like the goddess of white snow
herself.”
The snow goddess that enveloped the United Kingdom for half
of every year. A beautiful, merciless, arrogant goddess who never
spared an idle thought for the concerns of people…
“Yes, you really are unblemished, virginal snow incarnate. But
does that give you the right to claim any other color is filth? Sure
enough, Nouzen, much like that guard dog over there and the
Eighty-Six as a whole, is critically lacking in a way.”
As Lena reflexively looked her way, Shiden sipped her tea with
great apathy. Lena somehow knew that even though she’d just
been called lesser, she hadn’t been fazed in the slightest.
“That’s… I mean, yes, but…”
The sudden surge of emotion that welled up made Lena’s
hands, which rested on her lap, clench into fists. It felt as if
something had squeezed her heart, and she felt dizzy. As if she
was being gagged with a sticky lump of emotion that was making
it impossible to breathe.
She finally realized why she’d asked Vika about something like
this.
“I feel like if we were to leave Captain Nouzen—leave Shin—
alone, he’d grind himself into nothing…”
And that terrified her.
“When the Sheepdogs were introduced, he slept for days on
end. And he’d always say ‘I’ll get used to it soon.’ And sure
enough, the physician gave him the okay to return to service. But
if the strain becomes any greater…”
Only Shin can truly hear the voices of the dead. I can’t help
him shoulder his burden. I can’t share his pain. So if the strain
gets any worse, this time he might really crumble into dust,
without anyone noticing. And that…terrifies me. It makes me
anxious. I want to do something before it comes to that.
“…Even so…”
Vika’s voice was quiet.
“Worrying over this all on your own won’t help anyone. If it
bothers you, you should try speaking to him about it. And if you’re
anxious about that…bring him with you next time you come to
me. I’ll help however I can.”
 “…Yes.”
Vika then leaned his back against the sofa he was sitting on
and cocked his head.
“But do you really have the leisure to be worried about people
other than yourself? What with your motherland and its love of
white, despite its flag being as multicolored as it is.”
“…So you know.”
“Of course I know. Do you have any idea how many soldiers I
had to pacify to have your presence here accepted…? The
Republic may be unrelated to the Legion’s development, but it is
the most hated, loathed country in this current state of affairs.
There isn’t a country out there that doesn’t see the Republic as a
devilish killer of kin, and that’s a mark of Cain you will carry with
you no matter where you take your battles. The stigma of a
slothful country that, despite having been given a chance to atone
through service to the Strike Package, sent only a mere handful of
officers… I truly don’t think you’re in a position to worry for
someone else’s well-being.”
“………”
“With regards to the RAID Device, I’ve looked over the
research materials Henrietta Penrose provided us. Including the
results of the human experimentation done on the Eighty-Six… If
the strain becomes too great, it can damage the user’s brain and
influence their mind. And even knowing this, don’t you think
Resonating with a brigade-size force is a bit too much?”
“It’s not quite a brigade-size force. I’m only Resonating with
the squad captains.”
“Still, that’s quite a few people at once. Since they only know
how to fight in small groups, the Strike Package is divided into an
unusual arrangement of squadrons. In the United Kingdom, we
don’t let anyone Resonate with that many people during
operations. I doubt the Federacy allows it, much less the
Republic.”
He then said that he was an exception, a cold gaze in his
Imperial violet eyes—the mark of the genius pedigree that had
been passed down for a millennium. The violet eyes of the
Idinarohk line, members of which were capable of offhandedly
producing inventions that revolutionized the world.
 “The Para-RAID is a technology that reproduces an
extrasensory power in those who lack it. If I use the example I
brought up earlier, it’s like a device that forcibly gives humans the
power to see ultraviolet rays. If anything was to have adverse
effects on its user, it would be the Para-RAID.”
“That’s… But still, I’m a commander. So I don’t have a
choice…”
She had to use it if she was to fight alongside the Eighty-Six.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Vika gave a grand, resigned sigh.
“You freely give your grace to others like a saint, even as
you’re tormented by the possibility of it being needless concern.
But when it comes to yourself, you’re so dismissive. Truly, you’re
beyond saving… Lerche.”
“As you command. Yet…even as you say that, your kindness
knows no bounds, Your Highness.”
“Shut up and stay out of this, you seven-year-old.”
Chuckling all the while, Lerche passed through a door deeper
in the room—which appeared to lead to a bedroom—and came
back with something in her hands. Upon receiving it, Vika tossed
it at Lena, who couldn’t catch it in time and juggled it awkwardly
in her hands. Shiden, who was watching from the side, reached
out and caught it easily.
“The Thought-Support Device, Cicada. It was developed for
Sirin Handlers and to ease the strain of the Sensory Resonance.”
The Cicadoidea’s Wings—Cicada.
Contrary to what its name implied, it was a choker-like device
adorned with silver threads tinged with light purple that formed a
delicate lace pattern. At its center was a light-violet quasi-nerve
crystal, which upon closer inspection appeared to be finely spun
out of the silver threads that seemed to extend from it.
“Unfortunately, it’s not formally approved for use in the United
Kingdom military, but it’s confirmed that it’s safe. The only reason
it wasn’t put into use was because the soldiers were opposed to
it.”
Opposed to it?
“Do you use it, too, Vika?”
“No?”
 There was an odd pause.
“Er… This is a device to lighten the Para-RAID’s strain, right?”
“It is, but it’s no good for me, and even less so for the other
Handlers.”
“Why?”
Vika replied with utter seriousness, “What would having a man
wear this achieve?”
“Um…”
Lena didn’t follow.
Vika took the Cicada from Lena’s hands, connected it to an
information terminal, typed something into it (his previously
removed spectacles were now back on his face), and after
removing his spectacles again, tossed it back at her.
“I’ve reformatted it, so you can try it on in the anteroom over
there. It should also have reset the measurements… Don’t worry,
there are no surveillance cameras in there.”
“Oh… Er, thank you very much.”
“It should go off on its own once you connect it to your neck…
Oh, and…”
As the anteroom door closed, Vika turned away.
“…there’s a, um, a trick to putting it on. Well… Good luck, I
suppose.”

The anteroom Lena entered, as well as the rest of the

underground base, was built to be soundproof, meaning no voices
could get in or out. Yet, despite this…
“Huh… Ah, ahhhhhhhhhhh?!”
…Lena’s scream pierced the silence of the commander’s room,
as it had slightly exceeded the soundproofing.
Ignoring that yelp, Shiden helped herself to another cup of tea,
which she sipped noisily. She’d learned it was considered a rude
habit since coming to the Federacy, but she didn’t care enough to
fix it. Staying in the same posture, she moved only her eyes in the
direction of her former master.
After Lena had entered the anteroom, Vika had told Shiden
about the Cicada and its use.
“…Just making sure, but it isn’t dangerous, right?”
 Vika stood facing the wall opposite the anteroom, plugging his
ears, so Shiden was forced to write her question down on a piece
of paper at the table’s corner.
“Yeah. We’ve done more than enough animal experiments and
practical tests. The only reason it’s not officially used is because it
was unpopular with the soldiers, as I mentioned earlier.”
“Well… I can kinda imagine why.”
Just hearing about it gave Shiden a pretty bad opinion of it. As
Vika kept his ears plugged despite being in the middle of a
conversation, Lerche tilted her head quizzically.
“Incidentally, Your Highness, why are you adopting such a
peculiar stance?”
“Can’t you tell? Listen, I don’t want to get myself killed.”
“I…see.”
“If that headless Reaper finds out about this, my head will roll,
too.”
“How horrid.”
Lerche’s Emeraud eyes widened.
“In that case, Sir Reaper is enamored with Lady Bloody Reina!
How unexpected…”
Vika and Shiden simultaneously whacked Lerche over her
golden-haired head and then together shook the pain from their
hands. Lerche’s skull was metallic, after all. It hurt quite a bit.
“Holy shit… Is your brain rusty or something, you idiot?”
“You shout that here and now, of all places and times? Forget
that—it took you this long to notice, you seven-year-old?”
“M-my shame knows no bounds…”
Thankfully, none of this screeching reached Lena’s ears.

The Processors had been appointed a section in the base’s

residential block. Given that space underground was limited, the
rooms were meant for four people each. Shin was sitting on the
top bunk of his bed, his eyes fixed on the novel he was reading,
when he suddenly lifted his head at the sound of a voice from
afar.
It was different from the Legion’s cries. A distant voice from
somewhere…
 “…Did you just hear someone scream?”
Somehow, he felt as if it was Lena’s voice. Having been asked,
Raiden peeked out from the lower bunk and shook his head.
“…No?”

After a while, Lena left the anteroom with her face bright red and
her uniform in disarray. If Vika hadn’t been the prince, she’d
probably have slapped him across the cheek. Vika seemed to have
been aware of that fact, but he spoke with a smile charged with
noticeably false cheerfulness.
“I’m glad I could be of service, Your Majesty.”
“………!”
Whoa, thank God Shin isn’t here right now. So Shiden thought
to herself as Lena glared daggers at the prince. Pushing the
Cicada into Vika’s extended hands, she turned on her heels in
indignation.
“I’m leaving, Vika.”
“Yes, good night.”

Lena walked down the hallway, her embarrassment and anger

audible in her footsteps, but as the indignant annoyance subsided,
she was instead flooded with lingering regret and self-loathing.
Are you implying…that he’s a pitiful Eighty-Six who’s been
irreparably broken by war and rendered incapable of proper
judgment?
Again. I did it again.
“…Shiden, am I…?”
She asked this without turning around, but Shiden raised an
eyebrow behind her.
“Am I a…an arrogant person?”
Shiden scoffed with disinterest.
“You’re just noticing this now?”
Lena jerked in surprise, but Shiden continued, paying her
reaction no mind. As if she was simply giving her opinion.
“I live the way I want to. And that holds true for that prince
and for Shin, too. So you can do whatever you want, too…
Sometimes you just gotta butt heads with someone. If it happens,
it happens.”
“…But…”
Butting heads with someone… Not understanding him is… I…

The Revich Citadel Base’s eighth hangar. The Strike Package and
the United Kingdom’s personnel stood in a well-organized
formation in the largest hangar in the base, built in the lowest
underground sector. A group of Juggernauts waited on standby in
the shadow of the catwalks.
“—I believe this is my first time meeting most of the Federacy’s
soldiers. I am Viktor Idinarohk, commander of the United
Kingdom’s southern front forces. Ranks are pointless, so you don’t
need to remember mine. It’ll change before long anyway. I won’t
be in direct command of you, but, well, you can think of me as
one of your superior officers.”
The odd atmosphere that fell over the Eighty-Six was likely a
question along the lines of Who is this? Several of their gazes
traveled between Vika and Lena, who stood silently beside the
projected operation map. The deputy director of the United
Kingdom military narrowed his eyes in displeasure, as if feeling
the whole thing was disrespectful, but Vika simply sneaked a look
in Lena’s direction and shrugged.
This boy truly was both a member of this northern country’s
royal family and the commander of its southern front. Even when
faced with over a thousand members of personnel, he didn’t lose
his composure. Incidentally, Vika was also the supervising
commander for the Sirins, and while he was subordinate to Lena if
following the chain of command, he still held absolute authority
over this base.
“The coming operation will be a collaborative effort between
the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package and the southern front’s 1st
Armored Corps. Our objective lies seventy kilometers south of the
base, in the Legion’s territories—the complete suppression of a
Legion production site located in the Dragon Corpse mountain
range’s Dragon Fang Mountain.”
It was a simple map, meant for providing information for
corps-size forces, which presented the deployed United Kingdom
forces and the opposing Legion force. The production base was
marked with a red icon for emphasis. Compared to other
confirmed Legion positions, it was one of the deeper and largest-
scale ones. Since the southern Dragon Corpse mountain range
stood as a natural defense along the United Kingdom–Federacy
and United Kingdom–Republic borders, it was likely one of the
Legion’s headquarters for the anti–United Kingdom front.
“The Strike Package will lead the main attack, and the 1st
Armored Corps will serve as backup. To be exact, the 1st Armored
Corps will attack the Legion position as a diversion, drawing out
and keeping the Legion’s frontline and reserve forces in check.
The Strike Package will take advantage of the resulting gap in
their defenses to infiltrate and seize control of the Dragon Fang
Mountain production site.”
In accordance with the explanation, the United Kingdom
military’s armored unit’s icon moved diagonally, detouring around
the front squadron to advance on different positions. As the
Legion’s rear reserve forces moved, an advance route from the
citadel base to the Dragon Fang Mountain production site
appeared over the map.
However, the most important detail—the map of the production
base’s interior—wasn’t presented. This position had been
constructed by the Legion after the area had become part of their
territories. The human side couldn’t have a map of it. There had
been a few attempts at scouting it out, but they only just barely
informed the United Kingdom that a production base had been
carved into the Dragon Fang Mountain.
“In addition, we will be prioritizing the capture of said base’s
commander unit, identifier: the Merciless Queen. It’s an Ameise
from the earliest production batch… Or, well, I suppose that’s not
as visibly discernable, but it’s a white Ameise… While it’s still only
in the realm of speculation, there is a possibility said unit may be
capable of providing humankind with information on the Legion.
This information may or may not be a crucial component in
ending the war. Therefore, we must capture it. Damaging it to
some extent is acceptable, but leave its central processor intact…
Any questions?”

“In other words, we rush through the gap in the Legion after they take the
bait, somehow beat the enemy, steal their ant queen, and then come back…
Seriously, looks like any country we go to, everyone comes up with fucked-up
ideas.”
Unlike the Eighty-Sixth Sector, where most of the time they’d
dealt with interceptions, an invasion operation required significant
preparations. Since they would need to deceive the enemy into
thinking the Dragon Fang Mountain capture operation was an all-
out attack, they would need to create the impression they were
scouting ahead to get a handle on the enemy’s firepower. As Theo
grumbled, Shin, who was concentrated on that task, lifted his
gaze.
The Spearhead squadron marched through a snowy conifer
forest, weaving between the trees in a tight wedge formation.
Theo’s statement was not made to the whole squadron but was
transmitted via Para-RAID to only Shin, Raiden, Kurena, and Anju.
Since the United Kingdom’s front lines were in a mountainous
region, both their military and the Legion held their positions
between opposing mountains, with the valleys and plains between
them serving as the contested zone. This area was no exception,
and the Eighty-Six were currently advancing down a path that was
different from the one they would take during the operation three
days from now. They’d descended down gentle slopes earlier and
were currently scaling up a sudden precarious cliff face.
 Their radar screens reflected the three squadrons near them,
as well as a pixel symbolizing Alkonosts sent on recon a few
kilometers ahead. A force of Barushka Matushkas from the United
Kingdom’s armored corps was also advancing nearby. The
Juggernauts passing through the trees had all had their
armaments exchanged for light, non-revolving cannons and had
long steel claws equipped to their legs for penetrating snow and
icy surfaces. The snow that had fallen over the course of the long
winter had hardened and frozen under its own weight, and they
could hear the sharp sound of steel stabbing into the ice as they
moved.
Lena asked Shin over the Resonance:
“Captain Nouzen… The Phönix’s position hasn’t moved from the Dragon
Fang Mountain base today, has it?”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” he replied, directing his consciousness to
the inorganic, mechanical scream disturbing even the silence
caused by the snow’s sound dampening. He’d realized the new
type of Legion he’d encountered and let slip away during the last
operation was here, on the United Kingdom’s battlefield, soon
after arriving at this base. It was somewhere in the Dragon Fang
Mountain base, the objective of their operation… Where the
Merciless Queen—potentially Zelene—who had hidden that
message within the Phönix, might be. Their being together felt
almost obvious.
“I think we can safely assume it will be set to defend the Dragon Fang
Mountain base… It’ll likely serve as our biggest obstacle in the upcoming
operation.”
“I don’t think we’ll encounter any problems so long as we deal
with it as we’ve previously planned.”
“Yes, but I propose we conserve that tactic for later. Perhaps after we get
back from the diversion.”
“Roger.”
On the other hand, Raiden replied to Theo.
“Those heaps of junk have the upper hand and all the initiative no matter
what country you go to. But if you consider the distance, situation, and the
difference in our forces, this is much better than it was back in the Morpho-
elimination operation.”
 “We might not have a map of the enemy base, but the Alkonosts will be
handling all the recon for us. Apparently, we can leave that role to those girls
from now on… But…”
Anju shrugged.
“…the fact that they look like girls our age gives me kind of mixed
feelings about this. Even after I saw them walking through the snow just fine
dressed in nothing more than field uniforms.”
While Shin and his group were here, giving the impression they
were on recon, the Sirins were scoping out the route the Strike
Package would take during the operation, and since the Alkonosts
would be quickly detected, it was only the Sirins themselves.
Shin’s ability wasn’t able to distinguish the Sirins’ voices from
the Legion’s. After the Sirins had passed by so many Legion
groups, Shin couldn’t discern their positions, as they were
scattered across the battlefield.
The United Kingdom drone that observed the Morpho… Shin
narrowed his eyes in recollection.
Yes… You could consider it to have the same armaments a fair
maiden might carry.
During the conference where they’d discussed how they would
deal with the Morpho, the United Kingdom’s crown prince had said
that, referring to them as drones. Shin had heard about it from
Ernst after the operation. As one might expect, even in such a
meeting, the crown prince had spoken with elegance and poetic
grace.
But that was no flowery figure of speech.
The drone he’d been describing back then was a Sirin. And so
it was no metaphor; the payload it could carry was indeed limited
to what a maiden could carry. It was smaller than a Feldreß and
thus wasn’t as easily detected by probes and radar, but in
exchange, the weight it could carry was about the same as what a
human could. And in that case, if a Sirin had to carry
communications equipment and a spare energy pack, it wouldn’t
be able to carry weapons. In order to observe the Morpho’s roost
in Kreutzbeck City, they’d had to send in multiple Sirins with
equipment that would allow them to penetrate the electronic
jamming, and all of them had been destroyed.
A humane operation, with no loss of human life… A humane