Frederica the Prized Steed
Weapon Mastery (Lv.1) is active.
Compensating turret traverse speed and aiming error of the Panzer IV.
Whirrr-click!
The manual hand crank spun like mad. With the cheat skill's compensation behind it, the turret turned far faster and far more precisely than it ever should have.
"Kyaaaaah!"
As the turret whipped around, centrifugal force slammed into us, and Frederica's body lurched toward mine. I wrapped my one free arm hard around her torso before she could be thrown loose.
Thump.
"...!"
My hand landed—quite by accident, of course—squarely on her generous left breast.
Over the thin fabric of her tank top, a heavy, impossibly soft weight filled my entire palm. Flesh so pliant and springy my fingers sank right into it. She'd looked youthful on the outside, but underneath she'd been hiding this.
"L-Lieutenant Colonel... th-that's...!"
Frederica jerked upright in shock, twisting against me. But instead of letting go, I tightened all five fingers.
"Hold still! You want to fall out?!"
I barked the order with deliberate severity, my lips brushing past her earlobe.
Touch of Attunement.
Bestowing a faint pleasure upon the target.
"Haaah...!"
Still kneading her breast with one hand, I used the other to bring the traverse crank to a halt.
Good. She's gone quiet.
"Now! Coaxial machine gun—fire!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
At my command, the gunner squeezed the trigger. The stream of rounds sheared clean through the waist of a Republic saboteur clinging to the side of our tank.
"Gwaaaagh!"
With the scream, the horrible scraping noise against the tank's outer hull fell silent.
"Twelve o'clock! Range one-fifty! Second-floor window of the building!"
I kept cranking without pause, and simultaneously reached down with my right arm to palm a hefty 75mm high-explosive shell one-handed. The kind of weight an ordinary loader would strain over with both hands.
Weapon Mastery (Lv.1) is optimizing loading motions.
The cheat skill made the physically impossible motion look effortless.
"Hngh...?!"
Frederica squeezed her eyes shut as the cold steel shell sliced through the air right past her ear.
CLANG!
I rammed the shell brutally into the breech.
"Loaded! Fire!"
BOOM!
The main gun roared, the massive recoil rocking the hull. And in time with that jolt, I gave her breast another hard squeeze.
"Kyaaaang!"
A sound burst from her lips that could have been the cannon or a moan—honestly, I couldn't tell which.
And then—
"Kuaaack!"
"Damn it! Wasn't his sight supposed to be destroyed?!"
Amid the screams of Republic soldiers, the red dots vanished from the Minimap one after another.
"Incredible..."
The sergeant in the gunner's seat muttered under his breath. Enemies were bursting apart everywhere he couldn't even see.
"Next target—nine o'clock, left side!"
I kept swinging the turret around.
"Now! Fire!"
WHAM!!
Every time the main gun spat fire, I rode the recoil to stroke blatantly along the soft inside of her thigh.
Touch of Attunement.
"Hyaaaaang!"
Frederica's back arched like a drawn bow.
Status: A state of confusion, battlefield tension and carnal pleasure intertwined.
Her rationality as a tank commander and her instincts as a woman were tangling into a hopeless mess. Yet even through all of it, she never forgot her duty.
"Direct hit...! Target silenced!"
She gasped the words out atop my lap. Even in total darkness, she was tracking each shot by sound alone—by the crack of the gun and the shudder of the hull. A genius armored officer to the last.
"Well done, Major. That's superb instincts, right there."
As a token of my praise, I nibbled her earlobe and whispered into it.
"Nnh...! G-got it... next... next one...!"
"Six o'clock, rear. They're running. Sweep them with the machine gun."
"T-turret traverse!"
Whirrr-click!
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Every time the coaxial gun barked, her rear bounced in a steady rhythm on top of my crotch. My rock-hard length ground slickly against the crease of her ass through the fabric.
"Haaah, nngh... n-no... it's touching me there...!"
"Focus. If we let them slip, we die."
I said it coldly, then flicked her raw, sensitized nerves once more with the Touch of Attunement.
Zap.
"Kyaaaaah!"
Along with her scream, the last red dot winked off the Minimap.
Silence settled over us.
Only the low idle of the engine hummed through the turret's interior. In the smoke-hazed darkness, two sets of ragged breathing tangled together.
"Is it... over...?"
Frederica asked, her voice trembling.
"It is. Total wipe."
Only then did I release the hand from the crank—but I left the arm wrapped around her chest and waist exactly where it was.
"Ah..."
As the adrenaline of battle drained away, she finally grasped—in raw, unfiltered detail—the position she was in.
Sitting backward on her superior officer's lap, legs apart, grinding her hips against him. And on top of that, a shamefully warm hand gripping her sweat-damp breast through her tank top.
"L-Lieutenant Colonel... please, enough..."
She tried to twist free, but I only tightened my arm and pressed her deeper into me.
"Stay put. The perimeter isn't secured yet."
"B-but you said the enemies are all dead...! And this is... too...!"
"Too what?"
Playing dumb, I breathed hot air against her ear.
"It was a tactical necessity, Major. I couldn't exactly let you panic yourself to death."
"That's... that may be true, but your hand...!"
"Ah, my apologies. The recoil was rather violent."
I lifted my hand from her breast very, very slowly—as if reluctant to let go entirely, I gave her nipple one firm pinch before releasing.
"Ahk...!"
The instant my hand came away, Frederica shot off my lap in a panic. But the turret was cramped, and there was nowhere to run. She cast around desperately for an escape. Mercifully, no one in the crew was paying us any attention.
Emotion: Shame, relief, and an unconscious craving for the intense stimulation she just felt.
Then it happened.
Crackle—hiss.
"...A-ah, hello?! Battalion Commander! The comm encryption unit is repaired and back online!"
The radio operator's voice crackled through the headset. The intercom and the radio set—dead until now—had come back to life.
Frederica hurriedly smoothed her clothes and straightened her headset.
"Th-this is Vehicle 101! Receiving you loud and clear. Report!"
She forced a flat, businesslike tone, but the faint crack at the end of it was beyond her control.
Reports from every unit came pouring in.
Flawless. The enemy had struck at 2200 exactly as Antoine's confession had promised, and our pre-laid operation had annihilated them to the last man.
[And, Lieutenant Colonel...]
Gunter continued.
[We've found their leader.]
Their leader, huh.
"Bring him to me."
I gave the short order and pulled off my headset.
"Major, let's climb down."
"Y-yes, sir...!"
Frederica startled and scrambled out of the hatch ahead of me. Her legs were visibly wobbling. I even caught the moment she nearly slipped coming down from the commander's cupola and had to be steadied by her adjutant.
Status Analysis.
"Battalion Commander, are you all right? Your face is terribly red."
"No, I'm fine! It's, uh, the engine heat... yes, the engine's just so terribly hot...!"
Frederica fanned herself frantically, scrambling for an excuse. I snorted at the sight and climbed out of the turret at my leisure.
By the time I reached the ground beneath the tank, Gunter and the company men had a middle-aged man in a dirt-caked uniform kneeling in front of them, trussed up in rope.
Status Analysis.
A dud, then.
I clicked my tongue. With a colonel's insignia on his collar I'd assumed he'd be a big catch, but he was nothing but a political officer—no operational authority, all mouth. Men like that would bite off their tongues under torture before they gave up a shred of intelligence. And besides, he likely didn't know any tactical information to begin with.
If anything, keeping him alive would just mean a headache spewing agitprop in a POW camp.
"Cowardly Imperial bastards. Knowing our plans in advance and lying in ambush—was there a traitor among us?"
André glared up at me through gritted teeth.
"A traitor? That stings."
I waved the remark off airily and drew my pistol from my hip.
"Let's just say our intelligence is that good."
"Arrogant fool! Don't think that taking Soissons means anything. This is not your victory today. You have merely wedged yourselves into a vast, turning gear."
"That's rather philosophical for a dying speech."
CLICK.
I racked the slide, chambering a round—but André didn't so much as blink at the muzzle.
"Your Empire is fighting against the current of the age. The phantoms of absolutism and dictatorship are due to end, and soon."
His voice was low and funereal.
"Do you not see it? Do you not see what you have touched?"
"..."
"The island nation of the United Kingdom. The United States across the great ocean. Even the colossal League in the East. How long do you imagine they will stay silent?"
André's eyes blazed.
"The whole world will encircle you! Soissons is only the beginning. Your Empire will be torn apart from all sides, burned, and brought crashing down! That is the inevitability of history—!"
BANG!
The gunshot tore through the night sky.
A dark, glistening hole punched through the space between André's brows. His mouth, mid-tirade, hung open as his head snapped back. His body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
"Too much talking."
I looked around and clicked my tongue. Every soldier flinched and stared at me.
And they say he beguiles people with words...
Typical political officer—the man's read on international affairs had been dead accurate. Everything he'd spewed was the late-game scenario of the game Empire's Heart, and the inevitable future that Earth's own history had already proven.
In other words, he'd been describing a world war.
"L-Lieutenant Colonel... what that man just said..."
Gunter approached, his face uneasy. The soldiers, too, were visibly rattled.
Winning battle after battle meant nothing—even the men on the front line could instinctively feel the Empire being strangled diplomatically, one ally at a time. André's dying words had struck that anxiety dead center.
Which was exactly why I shrugged as if it were nothing at all.
"Don't let it bother you. It's the standard line for losers."
Charming Speechcraft.
Charming Speechcraft (Lv.3) is now active.
Diluting the soldiers' anxieties.
"A soldier's duty is simple. Crush the enemy before you and win. And remain loyal to the Empire, even in death."
"Ah...! That's right! That's our Lieutenant Colonel for you!"
"Hahaha! All that bastard knew was flapping his gums—there was nothing behind it!"
The soldiers' faces brightened in an instant.
"Clean this up. We'll hang the corpses in the square. Let the citizens see, plainly, what becomes of a defeated man's final words."
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
I turned my back on the corpse. My step was light, but the calculator in my head was already spinning at full speed.
I have far less time than I thought.
Just as the man said, the hands of the world war's clock were turning. If I didn't want to be swept under and drowned by that colossal wave—
I would have to pick up the pace.