The Rotten 39th Sector
Humanity was currently at war with the creatures called Bugs—living biomechanical weapons. Or more accurately, it was thrashing about in a desperate bid for survival. Among them, the situation in the Frangia Kingdom, where the young man now found himself, was bad enough to call catastrophic without exaggeration.
With 60% of its territory already overrun by Bugs, even at this very moment, new ones were hatching from nests—those factories scattered across the land—baring their hostility and tightening their grip on the kingdom's throat. No matter how many you killed, the endless swarms kept coming, and sooner or later, you couldn't help but wonder: Was there really any hope left for this country?
Incompetent soldiers. Incompetent commanders. An incompetent government. Nothing worked right, as if the whole nation was scheming its own downfall. In the years the young man had rolled through the frontlines, all he'd seen was a sewer of reality.
...Well, it made sense. The first nation to be utterly annihilated by Bugs. That was the setup this anime world had handed to the Frangia Kingdom. This country would definitely fall someday.
Which was why the young man could only act with survival as his sole goal—ensuring that when the kingdom's end came, he'd make it out alive, even if alone. That was the reason he fought Bugs as a Holy Knight pilot on these deadly battlefields, honing his skills purely for survival. Without power, he couldn't escape when it mattered.
To live, he'd do anything. He had zero intention of dying to monsters in this fucked-up world. Even if it turned the people around him ice-cold.
And that mindset hadn't changed since his assignment to the 39th Sector.
"It's already been a week since you arrived here."
A low voice echoed softly. At the same time, the intelligent blue eyes gazing at him gleamed coldly.
Sitting before him now, chin propped on her hand, was a blonde woman. Rien Prust. Commander of the 39th Sector. Hard to believe, but this young woman in her early twenties—the one who'd issued his recall order—was the commander of his unit.
It was ridiculous. Sure, this was an anime world at heart, so the weird speech patterns were one thing, but was it really okay for a girl this young to hold such a heavy position? Even for a noble, becoming a commander wasn't easy...
Maybe because the battle had just ended, she wasn't hiding her fatigue as he mulled this over inwardly. Then, abruptly, she posed a question.
"So, what do you think?"
"About what?"
The young man's response was stiff. Not the attitude for addressing a superior. It even carried a rough, insolent edge. But she didn't seem to mind, offering a faint smile instead.
"About this unit you're in now. You've had time to get a feel for the atmosphere, right?"
"..."
His eyes narrowed. What was she getting at? She seemed to read his expression, her lips curving gently.
"You can be honest—no need to hold back. I already know what you're thinking."
Honest...? Fine, if that's how she wants it.
"It's the worst."
No hesitation in his voice. Yet a subtle smile lingered on her lips, as if she'd been waiting for exactly that.
"In what way?"
"Everything. Forget basic supplies—the gear's condition, the pilots' skill levels. Nothing's up to snuff."
The equipment was worn-out and outdated, and the pilots here were green. Or rather, inexperienced. They had talent, sure, but that was it. In short, the 39th Sector felt like a dumping ground for rookies armed with rusty relics. Mostly first- and second-year pilots aged 16 to 18. Was this normal?
"Yes. Exactly. Nothing's proper. Especially to you, who's fought on the real frontlines—it must seem absurd. And then there's a kid like me playing commander."
"..."
Kid...? He let out an involuntary chuckle. He hadn't expected her to trash-talk herself like that. But she didn't deny it. He'd been thinking the same until a moment ago.
Rien Prust. She carried a mature air, but her fresh, barely-adult looks were impossible to hide. Honestly, she reminded him of a high school girl who'd just graduated.
Judging by appearances wasn't great, but after years on various frontlines, feeling the sting of incompetent commanders, he couldn't help it. How much command experience could someone her age really have?
Young commander. Inexperienced pilots. Pathetic gear and short supplies. A perfect storm of fantasy bullshit. It screamed malice from some higher-up.
Everything he'd seen in his week here was absurd.
"Any guesses why it's like this?"
"I can hazard a guess."
It had been years since he'd dropped into this godforsaken world. He had a rough idea of the root problems.
"Nobles, probably."
Just thinking about them furrowed his brow. Pigs so stupid you wondered if they could think at all. As long as they existed, this country had no hope.
"Yes. Just as you thought—the nobles are why the 39th Sector's in this state. They secretly want it to collapse."
Rien Prust's voice trembled faintly with buried anger. Her mana seeped out, slowly permeating the air around them.
...What's this? He watched her with interest. Not unusual for a commander to be a mage, but her mana's color was vivid. He'd dismissed her as a young girl, but maybe she had real skill.
But that was all. Letting her emotions leak out enough to manifest mana... She acted cool beyond her years on the surface, but she was still just a kid.
At least it confirmed one thing: Rien Prust hated the Frangia nobles. Even though she was one herself.
Magic was strictly a noble privilege. Nobles hating their own kind usually meant one thing: a new noble tied to the revolutionaries.
Daughter of a revolutionary noble?
Whatever. What mattered wasn't her backstory—it was the malice the nobles harbored toward the 39th Sector.
Not good.
He'd suspected as much, but this bad?
The reason was simple: The 39th Sector housed the city where the revolution began—the last shell of the citizen army's revolutionary government.
Were they really okay letting tens of thousands die just to uproot the revolution? If so, it was idiotic. Fighting for survival against Bugs, and they pulled this ugly shit?
No rational intellectual could stomach it. Of course, they had their reasons.
The Frangia Kingdom was in the throes of revolution. Commoners had risen against tyrannical nobles—like France, with heads rolling at the guillotine. If it had continued, the revolution might have succeeded.
But it failed. Bugs invaded at the revolution's peak, hitting revolutionary territory first and smashing them thoroughly.
That was a golden opportunity for the nobles. Enraged, they seized it—and even amid alien invasion, massacred revolutionaries to drag the country back pre-revolution.
From a third-party view, it was lamentable. Blood spilled needlessly when unity was crucial. And they were still at it.
Lately, they'd even abandoned reclaiming land, babbling about an "absolute defensive line" like France's Maginot Line—laughable.
Ridiculous. He almost laughed at the absurdity.
Build a massive wall hundreds of kilometers long to keep Bugs out? Doubtful it'd even be possible, let alone effective. The bio-weapons evolved endlessly; they'd find a way. And hiding behind it? How would they destroy the nests then? Those bug-spawning factories had to go, no question.
"..."
Anyway, he got the 39th Sector's situation now. And the commander's thoughts too. Time to cut to the chase.
He'd just fought Bugs—while other pilots rested, this solo meeting with the commander was a hassle.
"So, why'd you call me here?"
Not just to gripe about the kingdom's woes with a subordinate, surely. Maybe catching his blatant expression, Rien Prust gave a wry smile, composed herself, and spoke lowly.
"To talk about your coupling partner, of course."
Coupling partner... At the word, Netoru instinctively recalled the girl he'd coupled with today. His cheek still throbbed.
