Night of the Dead
Fortunately, the night sky was clear. Without a single cloud, the full moon poured down its light relentlessly into the pristine heavens. In that place filled with faint moonlight and profound silence, the farewell ceremony finally began.
As the time arrived, the gathered unit members started burning the fallen comrades' belongings. Soon, smoke billowed into the black sky, and everyone clustered around, gazing into the flames as if sending off the departed souls. Among them was Rien Prust.
To create flames strong enough to cremate the bodies, magical power was essential. That made overseeing the funeral Rien's role as well. Her calm blue eyes stared endlessly at the blaze she had conjured, consuming her unit members' corpses. It was a gaze that seemed devoid of emotion, almost dry—yet all the more heartbreaking for its distant sorrow.
In that moment, swirling in Rien's chest were nothing but regret and guilt toward the dead unit members. If only I'd made a better choice, paid more attention to the changes around me, found some other way... Endless torment. A commander should grow numb to it by now, but she could never get used to the deaths of those who had followed her orders.
In the midst of such lamentations, Rien glanced around. She saw her unit members gathered in a circle around the roaring fire. How long could they hold out here? Did they even realize that even after years of fighting, this war wouldn't end? Take Chandler or Seres—they'd survived for years, yet the end was still nowhere in sight.
They never said it to her face, but Rien knew the rumors circulating among the pilots: death was the only destination. And yet, they fought on silently. That fact filled her with gratitude—and crushing self-loathing.
...Just wait a little longer, I guess. How much longer must they endure with their meager equipment and facilities? All this place demanded was sacrifice. No matter how hard they fought, no one upstairs acknowledged it. That was the reality of the Frangia Kingdom.
The kingdom's resources and manpower were finite, and none were spared for the 39th Sector. The reason was simple: it was the birthplace and final ember of the revolution. To the nobles, it was a thorn in their side. They left it alone for now, not wanting to dirty their own hands amid the chaos—but inwardly, countless nobles wished it would just vanish.
Honestly, with all its limbs hacked off, what was left to fear? Rien couldn't comprehend it. Even her own father had abandoned everything, drowning his days in alcohol. Cursing and lamenting that the world had forsaken them. Their fervor and ideals to change the world had been brutally shattered by these unprecedented invaders.
Now, all that remained were shabby survivors—rebels turned losers. Ironically, the world rewarded the cowardly survivors who prioritized their own hides over noble ideals. Rien grieved that reality.
In the pitch-black night, amid a torrent of dark thoughts, the only light came from the fire consuming the dead unit members' bodies and possessions. In the shadows around it, the survivors mourned in their own ways—some weeping, some bowing their heads, others staring blankly into the flames.
For those accustomed to death, this time was more for self-reflection.
2.
The farewell ceremony for the fallen unit members was just about to begin.
—Found you.
Netoru had been sitting aimlessly when Karen's unexpected voice came from behind, startling him. He'd planned to seek her out after it ended anyway. Even though he'd suppressed it once upon returning to base, it was about time for her overheat to flare up again.
But this? He hadn't expected her to come straight to him.
—Damn, it's already starting... No time, so let's make this quick.
She blurted it out and yanked hard on Netoru's clothes, dragging him to a secluded corner. Caught off guard by her unusually rough handling, Netoru let himself be pulled along without resistance. Well, he didn't exactly resist.
He simply followed where she led. The spot they reached was so desolate not even moonlight penetrated it.
"Haa... haaah..."
There, Karen braced her left hand against the wall, body hunched, hot breaths escaping her lips. Her right hand pressed against her lower abdomen, as if signaling trouble in her mana nerve system.
This was why he'd tried to avoid it. Forcing her mana nerve system to activate couldn't be good for her body.
Netoru silently watched her pained expression, which stirred a pang of pity, before speaking.
"You'd be better off resting quietly in your room."
"...How could I? It's our unit members' funeral."
"No one's gonna say anything anyway."
"I just want to be here. They were like cute little siblings to me. Least I can do is see them off properly."
Cute little siblings... Karen flashed a bitter smile, staggered closer, gripped Netoru's collar, and looked up at him.
"Netoru..."
She was close—close enough that a slight lean would bring their lips together. Her breath tickled his chin teasingly.
"...Like I've said a million times, this is just to treat my body, right? Nothing more?"
Pain twisted her face, but her black eyes gleamed coldly as she pressed boldly.
Netoru gazed at her with an expressionless face.
"Yeah, just treatment... Nothing more, nothing less..."
Even without a word from him, Karen tightened her grip on his collar, yanked him roughly, closed her eyes, and slowly rose onto her tiptoes.
Netoru naturally placed a hand on her lower back and pulled her in. By now, her lips carried a familiar taste.
3.
With the squad shrinking, an emptiness was already settling in.
"Sis. What would you do if I died?"
Rin, who had been quietly staring into the flames, finally spoke. Ran, sitting beside her with knees hugged to her chest, gave a faint, awkward smile.
"...Dunno. Even if one of us dies, we'll probably go together anyway, right? No need to worry about that."
Due to coupling's nature, it was rare for only one partner to die. They rode the same Holy Knight from the start, so they usually perished together.
"Hmm... Still, in the worst case, I'd want you to survive at least."
"Ugh, don't say creepy stuff like that."
Ran awkwardly laughed at Rin's earnest words and pulled her waist closer, resting her head on Rin's shoulder. In that moment, the twins' eyes reflected only the raging flames.
Feeling Ran's weight on her shoulder, Rin muttered.
"For real... Just in case, I'm saying it now. If I die first, find another partner and live easy."
"...Huh? Didn't you say before that if you died first, I'd have to stay single forever?"
"Well... Yeah, back then."
Rin scratched her cheek with an awkward grin. Truth be told, she still felt that way deep down. She hated the idea of Ran coupling with someone else—even after her own death. Was it love, or selfish possessiveness? She wasn't sure.
"But that's not realistic. If we're just gonna keep fighting and die anyway, better find a decent guy and live long."
"Heh... What if I actually fall for him?"
"...Then marry the bastard, I guess."
It was common for coupling partners to start dating and even marry. The problem was how short those relationships lasted—not from falling out, but because one died first. And pilots crumbling mentally or physically from it weren't rare.
Dying together was preferable; surviving alone left a lifelong scar. Maybe that's why there were so many cases of partners sacrificing themselves to save the other. In a way, coupling was a chain—a vicious shackle binding them to the battlefield, forcing them to fight to the last breath. How agonizing must it be to lose a loved one due to your own incompetence?
"...Rin. Why the sudden change of heart? Something up?"
"Dunno. Karen's influence, maybe?"
"...Karen?"
Ran tilted her head and scanned around. No sign of Karen. Probably sitting out due to overheat. Just then, Karen reappeared—face flushed, likely from the overheat. Coming out in that state... So typical of her.
Rin stared at Karen alongside Ran and continued.
"Karen, who seemed like she'd couple with Natsuo forever, has been fighting great with blackie lately."