Night of the Dead
Regardless of race, countless myths and legends existed in this world. Demons, gods, demon kings, witches, dragons. Numerous beings had threatened the continent over the ages, and heroes had risen to fight them. Those oral traditions became the proud history and mythology of kingdoms scattered across the land.
In that sense, the Frangia Kingdom was a nation steeped in history and tradition. Its name even appeared in ancient myths and legends passed down across the entire continent, stories that any Frangia citizen would have heard at least once in their childhood. The Legend of Sharlgius.
The tale was a commonplace fairy story: a righteous and dashing hero defeats the demon king alongside his companions. The hero, who vanquished the first demon king to descend upon human history and brought peace to the continent, ultimately founded the Frangia Kingdom and became its first king. In other words, the Legend of Sharlgius formed the very roots of the Frangia Kingdom.
This was why no citizen of Frangia could be ignorant of their founding king, Sharlgius—even if the events were now over two thousand years old, making it impossible to separate fact from fiction.
"...I'm not some kid anymore."
Why was she reading something like this now? Was she hoping some mythical hero would reappear? No, even if Sharlgius himself came back to life, how could he fix the current reality? Honestly, the bugs that fired guns and shells were far more terrifying and threatening than any fairy-tale demon king. A demon king couldn't shell you from dozens of kilometers away, after all.
"Sigh."
Karen, lying in bed to recover while reading the fairy-tale book, closed it with a small sigh. She'd only picked it up on a whim to kill time, but it wasn't all that entertaining. After the intense battle that morning, the evening would bring the funeral for the fallen squad members. No matter what she did, a melancholy mood was inevitable.
As memories of the dead squad members surfaced unbidden, drawing another sigh from her—
"...Ngh!?"
Karen hunched over, breaking out in cold sweat. Her mana nerve system in her lower abdomen screamed in agony, her whole body heating up. The cause was obvious: fever symptoms from overheat.
—Once the battle ends, an even worse overheat than yesterday will hit right away. You still planning to go through with it?
Netoru had warned her, and she'd half-expected it...
"...Ugh."
Maybe because the mana nerve system was located near her uterus, the stabbing pain felt just like her period—pure torment. As she curled up, groaning involuntarily, Karen muttered to herself.
"...Guess I have to go after all."
Her back was already slick with cold sweat. A throbbing headache accompanied the rising fever. She'd hoped one treatment would suffice, but... she really should have gotten more. At this point, it felt like she'd tumbled into an endless abyss. But with the squad's situation, she had no room for hesitation.
More than anything, a heavy guilt crawled up her chest, deepening her gloom. How had she ended up desperately seeking him out like this? Clutching the blanket and groaning, Karen staggered out of bed.
This... couldn't be helped. It was for treatment. She needed to ease the symptoms somehow to attend the squad members' funeral that evening.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
As always, Rien Prust's day began with a deep sigh.
How many proper rests had she gotten since arriving at the 393rd Unit? Probably none where her mind was at ease. With bugs that could strike anytime, every day felt like war itself.
But today... her heart felt heavier than ever.
Four squad members dead. That was tragedy enough. The others were probably preparing the funeral by now—it was scheduled for evening.
But the real problem wasn't the farewell for the dead; it was the completely unforeseen bug assault. Fail to respond to this sudden shift, and more squad members would die.
One funeral prep was enough. She couldn't afford to just grieve sentimentally. She had to face reality head-on and prepare. That was the commander's duty.
—I've read the report you sent up, Commander Rien.
In the upper-level squad conference, faces of commanders responsible for each sector filled the screen without gaps. Rien wiped away her gloom, hardening her expression into cold resolve. She couldn't afford to look weak here. She needed to play the part of a capable, unflinching officer.
—Elfrandia's defensive line has collapsed...? Just to confirm, is this reliable intel?
Rien nodded firmly at the question from the senior commander overseeing Zones 36 through 39.
"Yes, it's certain. As you've seen in my report, Commander, the only explanation for bugs suddenly invading in such numbers is trouble on the elves' side."
—Hmph... So the elves crumbled first, huh.
The senior commander grimaced and clicked his tongue, as if hearing unexpected news. The other commanders sighed in turn.
—The bastards who defended their own turf to the death... To think they'd break.
—Their situation must be that dire.
—Looks like we can't count on cooperation from Elfrandia anymore.
—Then who do we ally with now?
—The allied kingdoms...?
—Don't talk nonsense. Think the guys across the sea will help us? Hell, they might be in deep shit too.
Frangia had rarely enjoyed good relations with its neighbors historically. Bordering nations could hardly get along, race aside.
—...Still, shouldn't we check the elves' situation directly?
—How? Send someone?
—...
Even with the elves' insular nature, Elfrandia shared a border, so there had been some diplomatic contact—as nations, at least. Until the bugs appeared. Now, communication was severed. Magic tools couldn't bridge the distance. Relays installed under old treaties had been overrun by bugs, leaving nothing usable. These days, the only records were sporadic frontline contacts near the border over the past few years.
Be that as it may with Elfrandia—Rien had something crucial to secure in this meeting. The elves' collapse had happened, but she couldn't let Zone 39 follow. Amid the growing clamor, Rien spoke calmly.
"Commander. If you recognize the gravity of this, please grant my request."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
It had been only half a day since the battle with bugs crossing from Elfrandia's border.
The mood in the base remained heavy. It had to— even an idiot could sense something was off. The sudden surge in invading bugs soured everything, and squad members had died. With only about forty Holy Knight pilots in the unit, losing four was devastating. And several more were sidelined with injuries, unable to fight for a while.
In the midst of this, Netoru reached his destination.
"...Funeral, huh."
The surviving squad members were piling up the dead's belongings. Prep for the evening funeral. Probably everything from their rooms. Holy Knight pilots had high attrition; funerals were kept simple in-house, and the deceased's items were usually burned with them per tradition.
Netoru watched from a distance. Truth be told, he felt no sadness or gloom. He'd grown somewhat close to the squad over time, but this was familiar. Besides, he hadn't been particularly tight with the fallen. Karen had opened him up socially, but no need to buddy up with all forty-plus.
And now... what was the word? He'd seen too many die on the battlefield. He might've grieved in his naive days, but now he was numb as charred wood to death. He just etched their names in his mind. Wallowing in every loss would dry up his tears for good.
"Oh? Netoru bro's here?"
As he quietly observed the preparations, Pera and Kyoko led five other 5th Platoon kids over, arms full of stuff. On closer look, they were helping sort the fallen's items. Had they been crying while packing? Every last one—boy or girl—had red-rimmed eyes.
Still not used to squad deaths, huh. Made sense, in a way.
Netoru stared at Pera's reddened eyes, then blurted without thinking,
"Pera. You were close with the dead guys, huh."
"Yeah... well..."
Pera gave a wry smile at his question.
"One of 'em was my next-door bro from way back."
"..."
Oh. Netoru regretted asking. Thoughtless jerk move. Her lips smiled bitterly, but her eyes trembled on the verge of tears. He scratched his head awkwardly. The other kids behind her looked glum too—must've all been tight with that squad member.
A brief silence fell, then,
"Ah... We got stuff to do, so we'll head out!"
Pera, sensing the awkward vibe late, forced cheer and led her platoon away.
Netoru watched their backs, then looked up at the sky. For the first time, it felt like he'd truly been deployed to the front lines.