Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Falling
The major moved immediately.
Even though he had just signed the contract, there was no hesitation.
Perhaps that was exactly why he acted so decisively.
The camouflage covering the last remaining reconnaissance aircraft was pulled away.
Its faded paint was scratched in multiple places, and the fuselage was patched up in layers, making it look worn and unstable.
It was a machine that had survived repeated enemy bombardments.
Two maintenance soldiers climbed up ladders and began inspecting it.
One opened the engine cowling and shone a flashlight inside, while the other stepped into the cockpit and tapped on the instrument panel one by one.
“How is it?”
After a moment, the head mechanic closed the cowling and turned around.
He seemed to know the major.
“I can’t certify it for normal sortie.”
“Can it fly?”
The power of the devil.
If the contract meant that the aircraft would not fall from the sky regardless of altitude, then all it needed was to fly.
The mechanic fell silent for a moment.
That brief silence felt more honest than any report.
“It can take off.”
The major narrowed his eyes.
The mechanic tapped the outer hull lightly with his knuckles.
“The engine is still intact. But the outer plating, wiring, and instruments are damaged from repeated bombardments. If you fly it like this, the patched sections might tear off.”
“So it can take off.”
He led the major to the cockpit and pointed at the instruments.
“The speedometer and altimeter work, but the attitude indicator is dead. The radio signal is unstable as well.”
“And the bombs?”
“There are some left, but most are in poor condition. They might not detonate.”
“Then remove everything. It won’t matter anyway.”
Weapons and bombs wouldn’t make a difference against that monster.
“Remove all guns and ammunition. Even fuel. If we barely manage return fuel, we can move faster.”
“We don’t need return fuel. Strip it as light as possible.”
“…Understood.”
Only then did the mechanic seem to understand what the major intended.
That was all the instruction required.
He looked at the major for a moment, then nodded.
“Alright. You heard him. Start the work.”
The mechanics immediately saluted and moved toward the aircraft.
The head mechanic gave a brief salute as well and joined them.
“It’s more intact than I expected.”
The major muttered quietly.
Even surviving daily bombardments in this condition was impressive.
It only needed to fly.
That was enough.
The technicians worked in silence.
First removing guns and ammunition as ordered.
Then checking the patched hull.
No one spoke.
No unnecessary words.
Only work.
It was better that way.
Reassurance or encouragement would only make things heavier.
I returned to the command room, finished the briefing, and went back up to the rooftop of the building.
It was the same place where the major had looked down at the ground earlier.
Below, technicians were still working on the aircraft.
The plan was simple.
Ground forces would act as bait to lure the whale down as much as possible.
When it opened its underside hatch to release its bombs, the major would fly the aircraft straight into it.
That was all.
I watched it all the way through.
I could not look away.
I could not turn my eyes.
This was a life being thrown into danger because of me.
The devil stood beside me.
This time, it didn’t bother hiding its presence.
It folded its arms and watched the aircraft, then gave a low laugh.
“His retirement will end in the sky.”
I knew.
Better than anyone.
“Not a bad contract. As long as the whale comes on schedule.”
I didn’t respond.
It was trying to shake me.
The whale would come. It always did.
And the next bombardment was still ahead of schedule, but the aircraft would be ready.
When everything was prepared, the major looked up at the sky one last time.
A small black dot drifted through the clouds, slowly approaching.
“You really are quite lucky.”
The devil pointed at the sky.
That dot would soon become a massive shadow that would block out the light of this entire zone.
The Sky Whale.
From afar, the name almost felt fitting.
Unreal, almost dreamlike.
But the reality was different.
A grotesque mass of metal layered with barnacle-like growths, beneath which lay a living biological vessel.
Its very existence inspired fear.
Once a day, it passed over G-51 and the surrounding purification facilities.
And it released condensed high-energy biological mass like bombs onto the ground.
Buildings melted.
People were torn apart.
It continued until nothing remained alive.
Then it would move toward the purification facilities.
That was its routine.
And it assumed today would be no different.
The major climbed into the cockpit.
No one shouted farewell.
No one spoke of survival.
They simply stood by the makeshift runway and saluted.
The major glanced at me before closing the canopy.
His eyes were calm.
Unshaken.
My grip tightened on the contract in my hand.
Should I say something?
No.
Nothing I said would matter.
I raised my hand slightly, then stopped.
It felt like it would dishonor his resolve.
I had no right.
So I did nothing.
For a moment, I thought I saw him smile.
Then the canopy closed.
The engine roared like a cough.
The aircraft began its takeoff run across the broken road.
It shook violently, as if it would collapse at any moment.
But it lifted.
The contract had made it possible.
Higher.
And higher.
Toward the path of the Sky Whale.
As I watched, the enemy noticed the ground forces and began descending.
The battle began.
Light from holy knights burned its outer shell.
Hunters fired everything they had.
Ability users unleashed their powers.
None of it was enough.
That was expected.
The goal was never to kill it.
Only to open its underside for a single moment.
And that moment came.
The belly of the Sky Whale split open, releasing streams of teal fluid.
“Now.”
From that opening, its bomb-like biological mass began to fall.
The major moved.
A normal aircraft would have exploded just approaching it.
But he twisted through impossible angles, diving forward without hesitation.
There was no fear in his movements.
He slipped through falling debris and narrowly avoided streams of flesh and explosive matter.
People watching lost their words.
Even so, he couldn’t avoid everything.
One wing was torn away by an explosion and fell toward the ground.
Yet the aircraft did not fall.
It kept going.
Straight into the opening.
Somewhere behind me, soldiers gasped.
I said nothing.
I already knew what would happen next.
The reconnaissance aircraft disappeared into the body of the Sky Whale.
……
“I can’t believe I actually made it.”
The major laughed inside the cockpit.
Now that he was inside, it was clear why bullets had no effect.
The interior of the beast was a massive mass of metal and flesh.
He considered using a grenade, but it seemed unnecessary.
He pulled out his pistol.
The contract had said:
If the pilot dies, the aircraft will immediately crash.
A simple condition.
A strangely kind contract for something made with a devil.
“All I have to do is pull the trigger.”
Before the Xenobeasts could react, everything would end.
Only one thing lingered in his mind.
His daughter.
He had promised he would return.
“I’m sorry, Lina.”
A single gunshot echoed inside the Sky Whale.
……
“Did it succeed?”
The aircraft had gone inside, but there was no explosion.
A low, mournful roar tore through the sky.
Then, slowly, the massive body tilted.
It began to fall.
“It’s dropping.”
Someone whispered it.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Only I could hear the sound of applause.
I turned.
The devil was smiling, clapping slowly as if admiring a performance.
“It’s a miracle.”
“…A miracle?”
“To bring down something like that with just one human.”
“That’s not a miracle.”
Without the contract, it would have been impossible.
But that word should not be used to describe this.
Before I could speak further, the devil raised a finger.
“Shh. You should watch until the end.”
I clenched my teeth and looked back.
“The Sky Whale is falling!!!”
The ground forces moved in.
The Sky Whale crashed into the ruined outskirts near the purification zone.
The impact shook the earth.
Dust, flesh, and fluid exploded outward.
The beast screamed in agony.
But it was still alive.
Xenobeasts inside the whale poured out and engaged the ground forces.
And that was when the real slaughter began.
Holy knights pierced its outer shell.
Hunters fired as they charged.
Ability users cleared debris and opened paths.
The beast resisted, twisting in agony.
But it had already lost the sky.
And once it lost the sky, there was no survival.
Ten minutes later.
Its movement stopped completely.
The operation was a success.
The purification facility was safe, and G-51 had been defended.
Cheers erupted.
Survivors collapsed into each other, laughing, crying.
I watched in silence.
The contract in my hand burned away into blue flame, leaving no trace.
Confirmation of completion.
……
“Confirmed. Sky Whale biological activity has ceased. Yes. It is over. Yes. Yes. Recovery of remains is ongoing.”
My voice came out mechanically over the radio.
“Understood. I will return.”
The call ended without even a word of thanks.
“You handled the contract efficiently again.”
I didn’t answer.
If I did, I might not be able to stop myself.
I crushed the phone into my pocket and lit a cigarette with shaking hands.
Leaning on the rooftop railing, I inhaled deeply.
Again and again.
Breathing like someone drowning.
At first, I had excuses.
Someone had to do it.
If not me, another broker would appear.
The devil would find someone else anyway.
I told myself I was the lesser evil.
That I reduced harm by being there.
That was what a broker was supposed to do.
But if the person standing there was a good man.
Someone far better than me.
Someone who should never have died in a place like this.
Could I still call this a job?
Then it wasn’t pride.
It was torture.
“I will return.”
That single sentence cooled the air around me.
Everyone understood.
They knew who had gone into the sky.
And just like that, they looked at me again.
Cold eyes.
Like frozen ocean ice.
A single sacrifice had saved them.
But that sacrifice had been forced.
A death signed by a contract.
They could not celebrate it cleanly.
So in the end, they would blame me.
I didn’t disagree.
I didn’t expect thanks.
Even curses were fine.
I only hoped nothing would be thrown at my back.
As I walked into the tunnel, no one spoke.
Nothing was thrown.
But their eyes followed me until I disappeared.
As if they only wanted me out of sight.