Chapter 1: Melancholy of Monsters

Chapter 1: Melancholy of Monsters

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.”