Chapter 6 - Fiat Justitia Ruat Caelum

"What…?"

At first, she couldn't understand what Shin had just said. Everyone, killed? Their execution ground?

"What are you…?"

But it suddenly dawned on her. Six years ago, she'd met Rei, who was a Processor. The Eighty-Six marched onto this harrowing battlefield in exchange for having their families' civil rights restored. But in that case, why was Rei's younger brother, Shin—who should have had his rights as a citizen restored via Rei's conscription—standing on a battlefield right now as a Processor? As an Eighty-Six? The same held true for the other Processors. Every year, tens of thousands of recruits were sent to the front lines. But if they were still being sent, what had their parents and elder siblings been doing all this time?

"Impossible—!"

"It's possible, all right. The damn white pigs never intended to restore the Eighty-Six's rights to begin with."

"They lure us to enlist with that promise and then use us up until they've squeezed the life out of us. They're goddamn pigs. Doesn't get any lower than that."

Lena shook her head in the heat of the moment. Perhaps it was impossible for her to accept, with her sense of morality. The Republic. The motherland that had given her birth and raised her. No matter what, it couldn't go that far.

"This can't, it can't, it can't be—!"

Theo sighed. Not as an accusation, but out of bitter sympathy.

"We're not blaming you here, but… You've been in the eighty-five Sectors ever since the war started. Have you ever seen an Eighty-Six there?"

"…Ah—!"

The amount of time an Eighty-Six had to serve in exchange for the restoration of their rights was five years. Even if the Processors died during the war, their families' conferment should have been guaranteed. After nine years of war, the families of the dead Processors should have been allowed to return home, but she had never seen any of them. Not a single one. Lena might have spent her whole life in the First Sector, where Colorata rarely lived to begin with, but even so—none at all? That couldn't be.

How could she be so oblivious? She felt sick her to stomach.

There were so many clues. Rei and Shin being siblings. Processors who were only children when their parents or siblings enlisted. The First Sector being populated only by Alba. And she overlooked every single one. After everything she'd seen, she still believed in the Republic's infallibility, like a damn fool.

"Most Processors don't live to see the end of their service, so the Republic can weasel out of the deal, no problem. The problem is us Name Bearers, freaks who won't die and survive for years on the battlefield. If we lived, it means we were smart enough to avoid getting killed, and from the perspective of other Eighty-Six, we're heroes. They probably don't want us sparking a rebellion."

Raiden's voice was calm. It did carry indignation toward the Republic, but it was as if he'd grown tired of being angry by now.

"And that's why they transfer Name Bearers to the contested zones of their fronts. They expect us to die there. And most of the time, even skilled Name Bearers don't survive. But then there's Processors like us, the ones with the luck and the guts to survive in spite of it all. This is where it all ends. Each front's first ward's defensive unit. This is the final disposal site. This squadron is for Name Bearers marked for disposal. They get dumped out here and forced to fight until they die. Reinforcements will never come. They'll only send in the next group to be eliminated once we're completely wiped out… It's the end of the line for us. We're all going to die here."

The perversion of it all made her head spin. They weren't fighting to defend anything. They were just fighting with the knowledge that they would eventually be killed. This wasn't even forced conscription anymore. It was genocide carried out by a foreign enemy.

"B-but…"

Lena stuttered, grasping onto that last strand of hope.

"What if you still survive…?"

"Ah. Yeah, there's plenty of folks who don't know when to give up… And to dispose of them, the final mission of their term is a special recon operation with a zero percent rate of success or survival. No one ever came back from that. For all the white pigs cared, it was just getting rid of trash they'd had trouble binning. Cause for celebration, y'know?"

"…"

They were forced onto a battlefield of near-certain death to defend others without any compensation. If they lived too long, they got worked to death or sent to a squadron designed to be killed—and if they survived even that, they were practically ordered to die.

Tears of anger clouded her vision. Anger at her country. Just how deeply, how completely, utterly corrupt could this country be? She remembered Theo and Raiden complaining time after time about how bored they were. She remembered asking Shin about what he'd do once he was discharged and how he'd said he never thought about it. They never had a future to begin with. Never had a future to look forward to. All they had was an execution order signed in advance, with no way of knowing when that date would finally arrive.

"You all knew…?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry… Shin and Raiden, all of us… We didn't know how to tell you."

"Since…when…?"

Her own voice sounded like it was cracking. In contrast, Kurena replied with unnatural curtness.

"We knew from the beginning. I mean, my big sister, Theo's mom and dad, Shin's family… They all went to the battlefield, but the white pigs never kept their promises… So we all knew."

"But if you knew—! Why did you keep fighting?! Why didn't you run…?! Why didn't you try to take revenge on the Republic?!"

Hearing Lena's shriek, Raiden closed his eyes and smirked wryly.

"We got nowhere to run, princess. There's an army of Legion ahead of us and a minefield and an artillery cannon at our backs. Sure, a rebellion sounds like a sweet idea, but…the Eighty-Six have been run too ragged for that anymore."

If it was their parents' generation, it might have still been possible. But they'd prioritized guaranteeing their families' safety and freedom to live decently over toppling the Republic, going to the battlefield to ensure that. If they hadn't, their families in the internment camps outside the Gran Mule would have been the first annihilated by the Legion. They had no choice but to cling to the Republic's honeyed words.

And when their parents died, their elder siblings took to the battlefield to prove their loyalty and worth as citizens to the Republic. They wanted to prove, both to themselves and to the Republic that treated them like garbage, that they were proud citizens who could take back their honor. It was them, and not the white pigs who neglected to defend themselves, who were true citizens of the Republic. But Raiden and the others didn't even have that.

They had long since lost their families and were too young to remember being transported to the internment camps or days spent safe in that nurtured haven called the Republic. Any memories of living in the cities or being treated like humans were far away and out of reach.

The only life they knew was that of livestock surrounded by barbed wire and minefields, and the only Republic they knew was the persecutor that herded them into this situation. They never knew the Republic that claimed to stand for freedom and equality, brotherhood and justice and nobility. They'd been reduced to pigs before they could develop any kind of awareness or pride as its civilians. Raiden and the others didn't see themselves as Republic citizens.

They were the Eighty-Six—natives of this battlefield where they lived and died, surrounded by enemies until they breathed their last. This was the only honor they had to prove. They didn't give a damn for the Republic of San Magnolia. That foreign country populated by pigs could burn for all they cared.

"Then…why…?"

They weren't obligated to answer that question, either. But they answered regardless, because of this girl. This foolish girl who clung to them no matter how much she was shouted at, how much she was kicked down, how many times she was exposed to the wails of the lingering dead. Maybe after all this time, she'd finally exhausted them to the point of resignation.

Raiden opened his mouth to speak after confirming there was no objection in his comrades' silence.

"Until I was twelve years old, this old Alba hag sheltered me in the Ninth Sector."

"…? What…?"

"Shin was raised by a priest who stayed behind in the internment camp after refusing to evacuate, and you heard Theo's story about his captain before. We all know how terrible the Alba can be. Kurena had to deal with some of the most horrible Alba you could imagine. But Anju and Shin also knew Eighty-Six who were just as terrible."

They had known both humanity's despicable vulgarity and its most radiant nobility.

"And that's how we decided. It was simple, really. We decided we wanted to be both those things."

They would stretch out of that cramped cockpit and reach for the heavens. He may have forgotten the prayers that hag had taught him or the god she believed in, but he could still clearly remember the heartrending image of her crouching on the ground and weeping bitterly for them.

"If revenge was what we were after, then that really isn't all that hard to pull off. All we'd have to do is let the Legion pass through us… Sure, we'd die, but the Republic would be doomed, too. Imagining the white pigs finally getting what's coming to them… Well, it's got appeal, I'll give you that."

Their comrades in the internment camps would also be lost, but they would die in a few years, one way or another. Turning their backs on them because it was all hopeless anyway was…something the Processors probably could do.

"But still, there are Alba who don't deserve to die for no reason, and besides, going to the trouble of dying for that wouldn't really achieve anything."

"…"

Lena apparently couldn't understand. Her silence seemed to say that if they were pleased with that, so be it. He couldn't help but snicker. This little princess really was too well raised and an idiot. She probably never even thought of or wanted to take revenge on anyone. Revenge and hatred weren't simple enough to be resolved by just killing whomever you hated.

"It's not revenge until the other side regrets all the shit they've done with every fiber of their being, till they drop to their knees and beg you for forgiveness. That's when you kill 'em. Otherwise, it isn't revenge… But after all the shameless things they did, a rebellion or a massacre wouldn't make the white pigs regret anything. You'd turn your eyes away from your own flaws and stupidity, pin them on someone else, act like some tragic victim, and then die pleading innocent… Like hell we'd ever stoop to the Republic's level. All it'd do is feed their narcissistic ego."

His tone had gotten harsher without him noticing. If there was one thing they couldn't forgive, it was that. The fact that the Republic truly believed it could do no wrong. Like those soldiers who mocked the old hag who'd followed her conscience and fought against oppression. Or the citizens who closed their eyes and plugged their ears from the reality of war, shutting themselves in a brittle reality within their fortified walls. The white pigs that deprived others of their rights despite refusing to fulfill their own duties and had the audacity to claim they were right and noble without an ounce of shame for their actions. They were hopelessly oblivious, so completely and utterly blind to the terrible contradiction between their actions and their words.

They would never, ever act anything like them.

"If we treated those bastards the way they treated us, we'd just become the same kind of scum. If we have to pick between fighting the Legion and dying or giving up and dying, we may as well fight and survive for as long as we can. We'll never give up or lose our way. That's why we fight—that's all the proof we need to know we existed… And if we end up protecting the white pigs in the process, well, can't say I like it, but so be it."

They were the Eighty-Six. A people of war, cast out onto the battlefield. Fighting until the moment all strength failed them and living their lives to the fullest until then was their pride. The Handler girl bit her lip in frustration. The taste of blood, of another's blood, spread in Raiden's mouth.

"Even if in the end…the only thing you have to look forward to is death…?"

Her voice sounded as if she wanted them to demand revenge. Raiden smiled sadly at her tone.

"What kinda dumb ass hangs himself just because he knows he's gonna die tomorrow? Even if you have no choice but to walk to the gallows, you can still choose how you're gonna climb the steps. We've made our choice. All that's left is to live by that."

And it was precisely because of this that they had been able to stare, defiantly, at the inevitable death that awaited them.

Raiden stopped before the hangar's open shutter, fixing his gaze on the silhouette of a man and the large frame of a Scavenger. Blue moonlight pierced the night air as the stars illuminated the dark sky with their keen glow. The stars and moon were relentless; even on nights when someone died, they glittered majestically. The world wasn't beautiful for anyone's sake. This world was always apathetic toward the concerns of individual humans.

"It's okay. Not much we can do about it, really. Thanks for today."

"…Pi."

Raiden observed Fido drop its shoulders dejectedly (quite literally lowering its front legs) as it left, and then he called out to Shin.

"Was that about Kino and the rest?"

"Yeah… We couldn't find any parts from Chise's rig. It's been a while since I had to look for a replacement."

"Just pick apart that model plane he worked on. The wings look just about perfect… But damn, not even a piece, huh? Figures, since he took a shell head-on…"

Fido spent a long while scouring that day's battlefield in search of aluminum grave markers for the deceased. Marking these fragments as prime search targets despite this task being unrelated to its original purpose was a habit Fido had picked up in its years of service to the Reaper.

Raiden had heard the story of when it happened from Shin. The first Personal Mark fragment Fido had returned to the memento-filled cockpit of Undertaker's nameless Juggernaut was that of a longsword-wielding, headless skeletal knight. They'd found the wreckage of that unit in some ruins, and Shin adopted it, exchanging the sword for a shovel. It was his brother's unit and his brother's Personal Mark.

"It might not be bothering you, but I'll say it anyway. It wasn't your fault."

Shin's ability could tell him where the Legion were, but it didn't tell him what type. He could deduce that to some extent based on their numbers and formation, but not when they were hidden in the distance between many other units, and even less so when it was an entirely new, unknown type he had no way of knowing existed.

Shin gave Raiden a fleeting glance and shrugged wordlessly. Raiden assumed it probably didn't really bother him, but that was okay. Steeling one's resolve and dying at the end of one's road was, after all was said and done, the responsibility of those who died.

Shin's clear red eyes turned to look in the direction of that day's battlefield, and Raiden fixed his gaze there as well. Their minds were still focused on the events of that day and the Long-Range Artillery-type Legion that had fired on them.

"…I figured it'd fire at the base next, but for some reason, it hasn't."

"Heavy artillery is designed for suppressing fire or destroying fixed targets. It's not made for firing at armored weapons and isn't something you'd use to shoot down a single squadron. They probably made it for bombarding towns and fortifications. I'm guessing that was a test firing, and they figured they may as well aim at us while they were at it."

Raiden chuckled grimly.

"They took down four of our guys while they were at it. We'd have been toast if they'd kept firing."

"If they complete it, they'll be taking down more than four rigs. They'll leave the Republic in ruins. Not that it matters much to us… But the major can't let that happen. She's the one who'll have to think of a plan, though."

Shin had spoken indifferently, but Raiden was a bit surprised. Shin probably hadn't noticed it yet himself.

"…What?"

"Nothin'."

He'd never heard Shin express concern for the Handler before.

"…Whatever the case, this long-distance cannon is the same as the Skorpion in the sense that it needs Long-Range Observer Units. The cannon itself seems to be silent right now."

"You can tell?"

"From its voice. I'll be able to tell next time it moves to strike at us… Though it probably won't fire that cannon again."

"…?"

Shin looked back at Raiden, who stared at him, confused. Turning his gaze back to the sky of that distant battlefield, Shin narrowed his eyes.

"He found me. He was probably looking through the optical sensors of the Ameise that served as Observer Units."

"…! Your brother…?!"

Raiden froze in place. He'd never seen it personally, but they'd run into the forces led by that Legion several times. It was a Shepherd that employed frighteningly subtle, coldhearted, and cunning strategies. Shin smiled thinly, gazing in the direction where the Shepherd probably was. It was a smile mixed with fear and recklessness, the smile of a war demon who danced upon death's maw. His thin body trembled with excitement, and without even noticing, he wrapped his hands around himself, as if trying to stop it.

"I can feel that he's at the edge of this ward, and it looks like he noticed me, too. He'll come for me next time. There's no way he'd just blast me from a distance. That's way too lukewarm a way to end this."

Raiden grimaced, gripped by cold, penetrating fear. Not a shadow remained of his trusted comrade who had always been so composed. A deep, seething madness had overtaken Shin's features. He was after his brother's head. The head of the same brother who'd killed him once before. Looking for the Legion that stole his brother's voice when he died in those ruins on the eastern front.

The Reaper laughed. Like a blade. Like madness. Like the lurid, glistening edge of an old sword, chipped and honed by countless battles, as it swung down to claim the life of its prey.

"This is the best outcome I could have hoped for, but you guys got the short end of the stick… What will you do? Knowing that you'll die tomorrow, will you hang yourself today?"

Raiden, too, was smiling fearlessly. The werewolf matched the Reaper in ferocity. He was a wild beast who'd bite to death anything that threatened him, his fixation on life savage and fierce. He could see, from the corner of his eye, that countdown message on the other side of the hangar.

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE DAYS TILL I END MY SERVICE! FUCKIN' GLORY TO THE SPEARHEAD SQUADRON!

And the end of their service meant their deaths. This ridiculously jovial countdown ticked down the moments until their execution. The time remaining on this halted countdown was actually thirty-two days. Even if that countdown fell to zero, they'd keep fighting and live through that day.

"You think this is a joke…? We'll be sticking with our Reaper to the very end."

"Wow… Oh my God… That is so like the Republic…"

Annette's expression turned dumbfounded when she heard Lena's story. Lena had said it would be bad to talk where others might overhear, so they'd taken the conversation to her lab. She'd served coffee in their matching mugs decorated with black-and-white rabbits, along with odd half-pink, half-purple cookies.

"Annette, please, you have to help me. We can't let this… We have to stop this."

Annette continued nibbling her cookies apathetically, her silvery eyes glaring at Lena.

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

It was a cold, dry gaze, like that of a witch who'd lived for a thousand years and grown tired of the world.

"Go make speeches on TV? Have talks with the higher-ups? You know that won't change anything. You can be as passionate and idealistic as you want, but if pretty words could make everyone change their ways, things wouldn't have gone this far in the first place. You know that much."

"That's—"

"Just stop it already. There's nothing you can do. No matter what you try, it won't amount to anything, so just—"

"Stop it, Annette!"

Lena cut her off, unable to take any more. She was her precious friend, but Lena couldn't allow even her to say those words.

"People's lives are at stake. You know that… Stop trying to make yourself out to be a villain just so you can have an excuse to do nothing. Cut the crap."

"You're the one who needs to cut the crap!"

Annette rose to her feet suddenly. Lena gulped in surprise. That was how menacing Annette's glare was.

"Stop it already. Seriously, just—just stop. There's nothing we can do. There's nothing in our power that can save those people!"

"Annette…?"

"…I had a friend once."

Annette's bellow instantly fell to a soft murmur. It was the weak, powerless voice of a girl who'd been driven completely and utterly to her wit's end.

"He lived in the house next door. Our dads worked at the same university. They were friends, and I would play with that boy often. The boy's mom's family had this mysterious power, and the mom, the boy, and his older brother could feel one another's feelings, even from a distance."

The boy's father was a neurologist and researched the way the brain operated when sympathizing with others, in order to create an AI that could effectively befriend people. So even though it was research, no one did anything particularly dangerous. They used sensors shaped like toys to have them try to communicate from different rooms, and since the experiments were all gamelike, Annette butted in and demanded they let her play, too. Annette's father would gather volunteers from the university to re-create these experiments, and they all participated in exchange for extra credits and her mother's snacks. There were hardly any results to speak of, but it was fun.

"But all that ended when the war began."

Even though they had just started primary school, the boy stopped coming to class. That's how bad the discrimination against the Colorata had become. Annette was bullied at school for being friends with a "stain." One day, she came home from school, and the boy asked her to come play, and she lashed out at him in anger. They started arguing, and unable to hold back her irritation, she called him a stain.

The boy didn't seem offended; he just looked at Annette with the confused expression of a child who didn't understand what he'd just been called. But even so, Annette shivered, realizing that an irreparable fissure had formed between them, and she was the one who'd delivered the blow that had caused it. She was terrified.

And that's why she did it. Her parents suggested they let their friends' family take shelter in their house. Her father was tormented by the fear of the danger his family might face if their act of mercy was exposed, so he asked Annette what they should do. And she told him. She nudged her father, who'd probably just been looking for that final push of affirmation, that final approval…in the opposite direction.

I don't care about him. I don't want to be in danger because of him.

The boy and his family were taken to the internment camp the next day.

She had to believe there was nothing she could do, that nothing could have been done in the first place. But still, Annette trembled as she laughed.

That's how things are, how they should be. But this friend of mine…why does she always cast that idealistic gaze of hers in my direction…?

"You know, Lena, you can act like a saint all you want, but you're just as guilty as the rest of us… Do you have any idea how many Eighty-Six we had to kill to develop that RAID Device you're wearing?"

"…It can't be."

Human experimentation—

"It broadcasts words, after all, so it didn't make sense to use animals. The fact that the Eighty-Six weren't considered human was very convenient… They had to produce results as quickly as possible, so they conducted research without any regard for the test subjects' safety. Dad was in charge of it."

Her father hadn't told Annette anything at the time, but she knew everything from the research records he'd left behind. Countless test subjects died when their brains burned out, unable to handle the strain of the experiments. And since all the adults were sent to the battlefield, they'd had to use children. Eighty-Six were allotted numbers, which meant their names were never recorded. So no one—not even her father—could know whether any of the children who died the most horrific deaths imaginable in the laboratories of the internment camps had been that boy.

"My dad's death wasn't an accident. He committed suicide."

Her father had said time and time again, I abandoned my friend and caused the suffering of countless others. More than anyone else, I deserve to die suffering. The synchronization rate hadn't been set to maximum by mistake. And Annette considered herself just as guilty for abandoning that boy, which was why she continued her father's research. When she received the request to check the RAID Device's relation to the Handlers who'd committed suicide, she'd wondered, What would happen if I told them they had to bring the Processor who was said to be the cause of these suicides? She would have him brought over, claiming he was a precious sample, and keep him detained until the war ended. True, it would be confinement, but at the very least, one would survive.

The fact that she had even considered that terrified her, because she couldn't even save her friend back then. So when she'd heard the scumbags in Transport had refused, saying it wasn't their job, she had actually been relieved. There, see? I can't save anyone after all.

"But that's as true for me as it is for you, Lena."

She laughed. She mocked her foolish, kindhearted friend who still couldn't fathom the depths of human malice.

"What you did was worse than doing nothing at all. Your interference made them live longer, and that's why they've been ordered to die now. If they'd died on their own, they would've at least gotten killed without having to be told to, but because of you, Command had to go ahead and give the order!"

Lena's breath stuck in her throat. Seeing that beautiful face contort in agony filled Annette with ecstatic joy, but at the same time, she was consumed by bitter sorrow.

Ah, there, I did it.

I did it again.

Annette picked up her mug and dumped it into the trash bin. When had they bought these mugs together, again? They'd decided they had to match and had picked them out together and had them wrapped. They'd drunk coffee out of them for the first time in this very room.

The sound of the brittle porcelain shattering echoed throughout the room like a scream.

"I hate you, Lena… I never want to see your face again."

After that, the Spearhead squadron was sent on two more sorties. During the course of those operations, three more Processors died.

Both times, it was because the Legion employed strategies clearly unlike anything they'd used before. The same kind of precise, level headed, cunning, and complicated strategies as when that Long-Range Artillery type was first deployed. Shin said the Shepherd was there. It hadn't come out since the first battle with the Long-Range Artillery type and was commanding them from the rear.

And as all that unfolded, Lena was unable to do anything. She couldn't fire a single shell to support them or annul their execution. And in the end, they got the order.

"A long-term reconnaissance mission into Legion territory—?!"

Lena cried out, unable to believe the contents of the notification on her information terminal. The participants were all active Juggernauts in the first ward's first defensive unit. The target for reconnaissance was a coordinate at the edge of the area to which they would advance. The mission had no time limit. Any attempt to retreat during this mission would be perceived as desertion, and any who attempted it would be promptly executed. In accordance with this, all Sensory Resonance target records, machine data records, and Republic military register records would be deleted. Each unit would be provided a month's supplies and ammunition.

…It was absurd. This wasn't reconnaissance. This didn't even constitute a mission. They were being ordered to advance into enemy territory and die. The only thing they weren't explicitly ordered to do was die in vain. Command wasn't even trying to make it seem like a mission. They wouldn't last a few days, much less a month. The scouting party's numbers would gradually be diminished as they sustained attack after attack by the Legion until they were wiped out completely.

After their many long, meaningless battles, their final fate was to be abandoned at the heart of the battlefield and die. And it was allowed. The Republic ordered this to happen; this was its true form. Clenching her teeth to the point of pain, Lena kicked a chair as she rose to her feet.

"You're asking me to retract the reconnaissance mission, Lena?"

"Please, Uncle Jérôme. Letting this go on any longer is unforgivable."

Lena bowed her head deeply before Karlstahl, who was her last hope. She had done some investigating while trying to find a way to have the mission canceled, but apparently, these outrageous operations were a "tradition" of sorts that had been upheld, uninterrupted, for years.

It wasn't just the Spearhead squadron. The southern front's first ward's first defensive unit, the Laser Edge squadron. The western front's first ward's first defensive unit, the Longbow squadron. The northern front's first ward's first defensive unit, the Sledgehammer squadron. Each and every one of these units had all its members virtually annihilated over the course of five months, and in the rare instance of survivors, the Republic had prepared Special Reconnaissance missions. The survival rate, no matter the scenario, was always zero. The Eighty-Six who held out until the end were sent to these final disposal sites to be culled—

Karlstahl's gaze fell to the documents on his desk.

"…This is impressive. Usually, only one but at most two Juggernauts are dispatched on Special Reconnaissance missions. You're the first case where we've had enough Processors to send out a platoon-size force, Lena. That's why I told you, didn't I? 'Do the bare minimum.'"

"…"

Your interference made them live longer.

Lena flinched, Annette's last remark surfacing in her memory. Gritting her teeth, she went on the offensive.

"Please. The Republic… We can't afford to sin any further."

"…"

"And if human decency and justice aren't cause enough to stir anyone's heart…then maybe the country's national interest is? Eliminating skilled, experienced Processors severely damages the country's war potential and the safety of its citizens. Uncle Jérôme, if you present it like this to the National Defense Council and public relations, you might be able to—"

Karlstahl listened to Lena's words with a grim expression and opened his mouth to answer just as grimly.

"Can you not see this as the Republic government and its citizens tacitly agreeing that the annihilation of the Eighty-Six is beneficial to the Republic's national interest, and the Republic military as simply acting upon this policy?"

"Wha—?!"

Lena was aghast. Throwing all notions of politeness to the wind, she leaned over the antique desk.

"What are you saying?! Like I've just said, this is harming both the Republic itself and its conscience—"

"If the war ends and the Eighty-Six survive, the Republic will be subject to censure and held responsible for their compensation. We'd be held accountable for their internment, the requisition of their properties, their forced conscription. For everything. Just the compensation for their seized properties and the reparations would cost the Republic an astronomical amount. Do you honestly think the civilians would be able to accept the tax increases that would involve?"

"…But that's…"

"And if any of the neighboring countries are still out there, they would learn what we did to their fellow Colorata. We would lose both face and dignity, and the Republic would be branded as a country of oppressors… All these issues would be avoided if we exterminated the Eighty-Six."

Her breathing was shallow, and she couldn't stop gritting her teeth. Shin had said the same thing.

"So that's why you're not letting them collect or bury their dead…!"

"That's right. I'll add that there are no records or graves for those who died in the Gran Mule or the internment camps, and the personnel files of all deceased Processors are disposed of. As soon as they're exterminated, we make it as though they never existed. You can't oppress someone who doesn't exist. Any fact that threatens the Republic's infallibility gets treated as if it doesn't exist."

"…I can't believe the civilians could be so foul…"

Karlstahl seemed slightly sad for some reason.

"They're tacitly agreeing to this, Lena. Very few people intended for this to happen, but nearly everyone willingly turns a blind eye to the reality that it could be happening. Or perhaps you could see the majority of people who were obediently indifferent as advocates of what happened… This is all a result of the democracy we take so much pride in, Lena. The majority of civilians have agreed they don't care what happens to the Eighty-Six so long as they can benefit from it. And it's our military's job to abide by that decision."

Lena slammed on the desk with her palm. A dull, empty sound resonated through the office.

"Democracy does not enable the majority to treat the minority however it wishes! Our national policy, the values of the five-hued flag, apply to everyone equally, and that was the basis for our constitution! How can we even pretend to be a Republic if we can't even follow that?!"

For a moment, a dull light flared up in Karlstahl's eyes. It was out of both irritation toward Lena and a deep, bottomless anger toward something far more distant, far vaguer and more shapeless.

"The constitution? A constitution is nothing more than a piece of paper if no one acknowledges its value! The same way the revolutionary government sentenced Saint Magnolia, whom they saw as nothing more than a symbol, to death in prison after they overthrew the monarchy!"

His shout made Lena's breath catch in her throat. It was the first time she'd heard him speak with such anger.

"You would call this barbarism?! Oh yes, it most certainly is! And that's what we get for giving the foolish masses everything they wanted! They exploit every right they have but shrink from the duties that come with them; they violate others' rights freely; they're beasts who care for nothing but their own benefit and well-being, and this is what we get for letting them call the shots! These lazy, despicable fools who assume the Saint's name and besmirch everything she stood for with their every action could never achieve anything but evil!"

His anger suddenly inverted into weariness, and he sank into his armchair, sighing despondently.

"Freedom and equality are ideals far too premature for us, Lena. For us, for all of humankind… And perhaps they always will be."

With eyes drained of emotion, Lena looked down on the man she once admired as a second father. She had no other way to stifle the scorn and disdain bubbling up from the depths of her heart.

"That's just your despair and your excuses to justify it… Sitting idly by and allowing countless people to die for that can't be anything but a mistake."

Karlstahl's gaze rose to meet Lena's. That old, silver, resigned gaze.

"And all you say is to hope, but hope can't save anything. And neither can ideals. Ideals are precious exactly because they are unreachable, and since they cannot be reached, they can never influence us. Hope and ideals cannot spur anyone to action… Isn't that why you came to me?"

Lena clenched her teeth bitterly. He was right, and she hated it.

"Despair and hope are one and the same. They're two sides of the same wish that will never come true. The only difference is what you call them."

"…"

Even so. Giving up because you know a dream can never come true and simply sitting and waiting for fate to claim you… Or fighting against fate and crying out against the dying light, even though you know that dream will never be realized. Those are decidedly different things. But this man couldn't see that difference.

Ah, so that's it. This…this is despair.

"…I'll be taking my leave, Commodore Karlstahl."

The Spearhead squadron received the notice about the Special Reconnaissance mission the same time Lena did, and they set about their preparations solemnly. Receiving and organizing the gear the Republic had flown in for the operation. Securing what supplies they would need from the base itself. Selecting the Scavengers that would handle those supplies. Elaborate inspections of the Juggernauts that couldn't expect any more special maintenance once the mission began. Settling any final affairs the Processors who would never return still had to take care of.

All these duties were summarized in paperwork that the squad captain—Shin—would have to fill in, and confirming they'd been addressed fell to him as a result. Aldrecht took over the preparation and loading of supplies, as per usual, and he was standing in the corner of the now significantly emptier hangar, making sure the containers were properly filled.

"Provisions, energy packs, ammo, and spare parts are all in the requested amounts. Oh, and since a certain captain's got this habit of pilotin' like a lunatic, we also made sure to put extra leg components in yer rig. You can handle simple repairs, right?"

"Yeah. I break it often, after all."

"Don't mouth off to me like that, ya snot-nosed brat…! There's only one rig left fer ya to take. Don't go crazy, ya got that?"

The crewman's thick voice lowered earnestly, but Shin simply shrugged. Even in the face of those sincere words, Shin couldn't make any promises. Fighting with all you had when faced with the Legion was key when it came to piloting a Juggernaut.

Aldrecht smiled sadly.

"This is the last time. Lyin' wouldn't kill ya, would it? Or if nothin' else, listen to me fer once in yer damn life."

"I'm sorry."

"Tch, I swear to God, kid, yer a real piece o' work…"

Aldrecht sighed sadly, and silence fell over them. Shin probably didn't feel it was particularly uncomfortable, but it took Aldrecht a few moments of scratching his graying hair to continue.

"…Shin. Once I'm done loadin' these, there's somethin' I wanna tell ya. Could ya call the other kids over here when I'm done?"

Shin blinked in surprise and glanced up at Aldrecht's sunglasses. He looked as if he wanted to ask why, but apparently, his Para-RAID activated, and he fell silent.

"Captain Nouzen…"

"Major."

He signaled with his hand that they'd continue this talk later, and Aldrecht nodded and turned to leave.

"I received the notification about the Special Reconnaissance mission."

"We got it as well. Preparations are going according to schedule. Did something happen?"

In contrast to Lena's grave tone, Shin spoke as if he'd been notified that he was going to some standard battlefield. Hearing the calmness in his voice, Lena bit her lip.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't able to convince them to rescind the order…"

A moment later, Lena pursed her lips and fell silent. Unable to hold herself back anymore, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Please run away. You shouldn't have to follow these absurd orders."

She felt completely and utterly pathetic. She couldn't have this outrageous operation canceled, and the only thing she had left was this irresponsible suggestion. But the response he offered was calm and collected. Though phrased as a question, it was a flat refusal.

"Run away to where?"

"…"

Lena knew this. There was nowhere to run. And even if they did run away, they wouldn't survive. A lone group of people wouldn't be able to produce enough food to live on. It was exactly because man could not live on his own that people came together and formed villages, cities, and countries. And the very same system that was created to establish and promote life was now trying to kill them. A deep anger toward something she didn't know how to properly define rose from the pit of her stomach, and Lena lashed out at him, spurred by that emotion.

"Why?! Why are you always so…?!"

That composure of his that so calmly accepted unreasonable death angered her. He was like a sinner who'd accepted his death sentence, but he hadn't done anything to deserve this!

"Because it's not something worth resenting. Everyone dies someday. The fact that it comes a bit sooner for us isn't something we should condemn others for."

"But that's not true! They're killing you, and you know it! They took away your future and your hope, and now they're coming to ruthlessly take your life, and you tell me those aren't things worth condemning them for?!"

She was mostly ranting and shouting tearfully, so Shin held his tongue for a moment. When he did respond, she could feel a faint, wry smile in his voice.

"Major. We're not going there to die."

It was a resolve free of regrets and attachments, one that felt somehow relieved.

"We've always been trapped and subjugated here, and that's finally coming to an end. We can finally go to the place we're meant to reach, walking along the road we chose to follow. We're finally going to be free. So please, don't speak ill of this."

Lena hung her head sadly. But that's not freedom… Freedom meant being unfettered to go wherever you wanted and become whatever you wanted, so long as you didn't infringe on others' rights or the law. Or if nothing else, it was being allowed to wish for those things—things to which any person should be entitled. If all they could wish for was their death tomorrow and the path it took them to get to this day, then they weren't free. That could never be called freedom. Never.

"Then…then if nothing else, don't fight. You can tell where the Legion are, right? So advancing while avoiding battle should be—"

"That won't work. Even if I can tell where they are, we wouldn't be able to slip by their patrols unnoticed. Our only way to move forward is by fighting them… And we knew this from the beginning."

Shin was definitely, however faintly, smiling when he said this. As if he intended to convey he wanted—not knew, but wanted—this from the beginning. Unable to control her emotions, Lena closed her eyes.

"You want to kill your brother who's been taken over by the Legion…don't you?"

A momentary silence. And then, Shin sighed with annoyance.

"…Why do you always keep noticing things you're better off not knowing…?"

"I can tell. After all…"

It happened when he said he was looking for Rei despite already knowing he was dead. And he did it whenever he talked about the first ward's Shepherd. Every time, Shin had had the same cold, ruthless smile. Shin himself might not have even noticed, similar to how Lena herself wasn't always conscious of her own expression. Perhaps the feelings in the depths of his heart betrayed him when he least expected it. That emotion like terror and hatred, obsession and compulsion, like a cruel, cold blade of madness he held poised to stab himself.

This emotion wasn't a wish. If anything, it was the direct opposite.

"If that's true, then it's all the more reason not to fight. Even if it's the Legion, killing your brother is just—"

"He's the Shepherd. If I don't take him out, we'll never be able to advance."

His tone was cold and severe. It was the first time she'd ever heard irritation in his voice.

"Captain…"

"If commanding us is too hard, you can stop Resonating with us… Raiden and Kaie have already told you that plenty of times."

His sharpness made Lena's breath catch. Realizing he'd let his emotions get to him, Shin took a deep breath and reassumed the indifferent, businesslike attitude he'd had when Lena had only just been appointed.

"…Major. We don't need you to command us anymore."

"That's—"

"Let me say it another way. I don't want you to hear my brother's last words."

That curse. That resentment. Shin didn't want to paint those over Lena's image of his brother's smile and outstretched hand.

"…"

"And one more thing. I can't hear the voices of the Legion that used to be beyond the eastern border."

He made it sound like he'd forgotten to file a report. Maybe it was an attempt to cover up something he was trying to convey.

"Maybe that's just the limit of what I can hear, but it's possible someone is still alive out there. Maybe someone will come to help before the Republic falls… If I take down the Shepherd, the Legion will be thrown into chaos for a while. That's all the time I can buy you, so until then…you have to stay alive, Major."

His tone pushed her away, and his voice was indifferent, but those words that almost felt like a prayer for her well-being made Lena clench her fists.

Haruto died when they went to sortie that day. It was also the first operation where Lena didn't command them from start to finish.

Then came the day of the Special Reconnaissance mission. They mounted their Juggernauts, the monitors switching on and filling up with their activation sequences and boot-check results. Raiden scoffed seeing the number of friendly units on his sub-monitor.

"Just five of us, huh? Sure starting to miss Haruto right about now…"

If he'd lived two days longer, he could've joined us on this fun little hike. Theo sighed heavily on the other side of the Resonance.

"So in the end, the major didn't check in one last time."

"Well, color me surprised. Didn't think you'd actually end up missing her, Theo."

"That's not it, you moron… But still."

Theo cocked his head slightly.

"I guess I do kind of regret not talking to her one last time."

"She's been with us through so much. We should at least get to say good-bye. It's only fair."

"Yep, you get it, Anju. Like, it's totally fine if she's not here, but if she were, it would've been nice to say good-bye."

"It doesn't matter either way. We kept telling her not to get involved with us, and it finally sank in."

Despite her words, Kurena sounded a bit sulky. Hearing Theo and Anju snicker over the line, she snapped at them.

Raiden sighed, looking up at the canopy. Yep, that's about right… He didn't think Lena would completely stop Resonating with them after everything that had happened. He didn't think she was the type to chicken out now, after all this time… Nah, she was probably brooding and unable to face them because of her stupid guilt. There were definitely a few things he wanted to tell her before they had to go… But if they didn't get the chance, so be it.

Final check sequence complete. Start-up acknowledged. The screens flickered to life, displaying the maintenance crew's retreating backs. Raiden lowered his head in gratitude to the battered barracks and maintenance crew who'd helped them for the past six months. They might not have seen, but he had to do it anyway.

Fido's legs were linked to containers loaded with a month's worth of ammunition, supplies, and living necessities for five, and the Scavenger stood behind the scout party like an overgrown centipede. That marked the last of their preparations. Once they left for the mission, their names would be wiped from the military register, and their machine data records would be disposed of. Their Sensory Resonance target records—their link to their Handler—would also be deleted that afternoon. If they tried to Resonate with the Republic, the interception cannon would fire on them. They were to advance as far as they could into enemy territory, even if it cost them their lives.

Even with this bleak future staring him in the face, Raiden's heart was surprisingly serene. He'd been prepared for this ever since being appointed to this squadron. Daiya was there back then, and it was just six of them. The six boarded a transport that took them to their new posting, where they met Kaie, Haruto, and Kino.

They'd all had their pictures retaken for their personnel files. Every time a squad got reorganized, its members had to get updated photos, and they'd stood with their backs to a wall with lines on it to measure their heights, each holding a board with their personal number on it. It was like a mug shot. These were scrapped when a squadron got dissolved, so by tonight, they'd be done away with. Their portraits, which would never be used for the funerals they'd never have, would be burned tonight. And the other picture that timid, kindhearted soldier took of them…? Who knew how long that one would last.

They all renewed their oath that night, that no matter how much they might be treated like pigs, they'd never give their oppressors the satisfaction of acting like pigs. That they would fight to the bitter end, even if there was only one left standing.

This is the best. In the end, there were five left. Raiden smirked, thinking that this wasn't bad at all, and naturally found his attention drawn to Undertaker, who stood as the vanguard. That Personal Mark of a headless skeleton carrying a shovel. It represented their Reaper, the one who'd led them all this far—the one who'd now lead them to death's door and probably well beyond that, carrying the 576 aluminum grave markers of their fallen comrades with him.

He could feel Shin's red eyes flutter open as he said solemnly:

"…Let's go."

Stirred by that faint voice, he awoke from his standby phase.

He's coming. He's still far, but he's drawing closer.

He had sought him for so long and had now finally found him again. The one he'd been waiting to meet for so long… His impatience burned like hunger, like lust.

I can't wait any longer. I have to welcome him. And this time, for sure…

The sound of the ghosts he could always hear grew louder as they began advancing in their direction. The Legion moved in a single lump, like a tidal wave of tyranny washing over the land, gradually surging toward them. The Eintagsfliege deployed first like a subtle silver swarm, spreading as a filament choking the heavens, blotting out the sun.

"…Shin."

"Yeah."

Shin replied curtly to Raiden's hoarse whisper. They were on a collision course. They tried changing directions, but the enemy unit's vanguard shifted in accordance with them. It only made sense… If Shin could hear the voices of the Legion, logically, the reverse should apply. Considering the topography, he changed course for what would be the best terrain for them to engage. If they had to clash with the Legion, they should at least pick a battlefield that gave them some kind of advantage.

Their radar screens filled with blips. It was a code that meant the presence of hostile units. The number of blips increased by the second, and the path to the point where they would intersect lit up in white. They swerved around the hems of the hills that blocked their fields of vision, finding themselves in front of a thicket of trees. This place bordered the forested woodlands, and a large force of Legion, stretching out as far as the eye could see, lay in wait for them.

Recon units of the Scout-type Ameise stood in the forefront. Two kilometers behind them were mixed armored units consisting of the Tank type, Löwe, and the Dragoon type, Grauwolf. Several kilometers behind them was yet a second wave of the same armored unit, and they could just barely make out a third behind that. Beyond probably lay an encampment of the Long-Range Gunner type, Skorpion. This army likely included every single Legion in the first ward.

And at the vanguard, advancing toward them with an air of composure and a force of Ameise waiting on it, was a Heavy Tank type—a Dinosauria. It stood at a height of four meters and was twice the weight of a Löwe, its massive frame covered in solid, bulky armor. It was as menacing as a gargantuan fortress, its massive size supported by eight legs, which granted it terrifying mobility. Its massive 155 mm turret and the secondary armament, a 75 mm coaxial cannon, both swerved in the Juggernauts' direction, making the extra two 57 mm heavy machine guns mounted to it seem like toys in comparison.

It was obvious even without hearing it that this was this army's Shepherd. It had deployed its forces here, not simply because this was the straight line they were moving in, but instead because it was deliberately lying in wait to challenge the Juggernauts. It had considered the situation and analyzed its opponents' movements, a feat of cognition impossible for any common Sheep. And this Shepherd, which had always lurked in the depths of the first ward, was also…

"…Shin…"

As if to wipe away any doubt, he could hear that low voice, one he remembered clearly. It was the same voice, speaking the same words he'd last heard back when he was still alive.

This voice incessantly calling out to him.

Shin smiled faintly. You finally came out… Finally, you show your face to me.

Shin's smirk was cold, sharp, and ferocious. Like a blade. Like madness.

"I've finally found you…Brother."