War in the 39th Sector
War—the ultimate form of conflict. The end result of competition, struggle, debate, and dispute when they evolve to their extremes.
For thousands of years, the era of mages and knights had persisted. But when Holy Knights began to dominate warfare with their overwhelming power, countless nations shuddered in awe and raced to develop their own. They raised anyone with talent as pilots, regardless of noble birth or commoner blood. Everyone prepared for the great war that would remake the world.
But no one could have foreseen this. That the world-devouring great war would begin not among themselves, but from invaders out of another world.
In a world where magic had supplanted science, these otherworldly invaders ravaged the land with weapons unlike anything humanity had ever known.
A Holy Knight is a bio-armored weapon. As such, it could naturally be called a kind of living "organism." Or more precisely, a massive "shell" created through a human woman.
A new shell designed to surpass the limits of the human body and achieve greater feats. That was the Holy Knight.
—Karen. We're starting now.
At Maintenance Chief Asuna's voice, Karen nodded. She was currently lying in the cockpit of her Holy Knight.
But there was no coupling partner behind her waist. Instead, the cockpit was filled with a sticky, dense mana-infused liquid.
If it were ordinary liquid, it would have been suffocating, but even fully submerged, Karen had no trouble breathing.
The problem was the unpleasant sensation of the liquid seeping into every crevice of her body…
If she had to compare it to something, it felt like being doused head to toe in spoiled, curdled old milk. And the texture was one thing, but the smell was subtle too. Like the scent of night-blooming flowers you might catch while walking in the evening after rain.
As a clueless kid, she'd thought it smelled nice, but after becoming an "adult," it started feeling a bit embarrassing. Why did it have to smell like this of all things?
In any case, adjusting a Holy Knight was an annoyingly tedious process in every way… but there was no helping it. It was the female pilot's role.
Only female pilots could heal wounded Holy Knights in battle or repair damaged mana nerve systems. But that didn't mean Karen had zero complaints about the repetitive adjustments. She often wondered why women had to handle this hassle alone.
Why did men grip the controls? As most people knew these days, piloting a Holy Knight was the male pilot's job.
So what was the point of female pilots? The answer was simple. They were like connectors. Or more accurately, the "key" to activating and moving the Holy Knight.
Since Holy Knights were born from female pilots as their template, their proper operation required the female pilot's assistance. In that sense, every Holy Knight a male pilot moved in battle was a "living being" modeled after the body data of its coupled female pilot.
Maybe that's why Holy Knights took on different forms and personalities depending on their template female pilot—and their performance varied accordingly.
—All good! We're done!
Asuna's cheerful voice rang in her ears. At the same time, the liquid enveloping her body vanished completely. "Cough… cough…!" Karen hacked a few times before expertly opening the cockpit.
She gulped in fresh air like a drowning woman, wiping off the sticky residue clinging to her skin as she climbed out. Her eyes, squeezed shut the whole time, stung in the light, and she squinted.
Asuna approached. "Luckily, your Holy Knight's in great shape. No major damage from the last fight, so there wasn't much to tweak."
"…Is that so?" Karen's expression turned complicated at Asuna's words. She wasn't sure whether to be glad or not.
It was good her Holy Knight was unscathed, but seen another way, it meant Netoru had handled it with impressive skill last time. Despite treating her so roughly…
Maybe because of those tangled feelings, Karen unconsciously turned to look at her Holy Knight.
The massive shell built from her body data gleamed pure white and sleek. At a glance, it resembled a beautiful knight in ornate light armor, standing proudly on two legs—a work of art.
Like most female pilots, Karen held considerable affection for her Holy Knight.
"…"
After staring at it for a long while, she glanced around. The hangar for maintaining Holy Knights was completely empty right now. All unit members had sortied to repel the Bugs that had reappeared nearby.
Her Holy Knight was the only one left, and a cold, heavy silence dominated the space.
…Is it really okay to be left here alone?
Being the only one back at base, waiting for the others to return, felt utterly alien to her. With Natsuo as her coupling partner before, she'd always joined every battle. She'd sortied more than most, never getting a break like this.
At first, she'd tried to think positively—finally cashing in on all the rest she'd missed out on. But honestly, it didn't sit well anymore.
Especially since the unit had sortied multiple times these past few days. The Bugs spotted each time were small groups, thankfully, but constant sorties were a huge strain on pilots. Having even one more person here would make a big difference…
What would Natsuo do in this situation? Karen sighed, thinking of the guy who seemed indecisive but reliable when it counted.
"Sigh. Come on, kid."
Asuna patted her head. "Don't worry too much. They won't fold over something like this. Not without you and Natsuo."
"Still…"
"What? You thinking of coupling with Netoru or something? Pfft, you saw it yourself. Your coupling wavelength with that guy is a total disaster."
"…"
Yeah, she had seen it. Just as Asuna said, their coupling wavelength match was so abysmal it was baffling. A match rate of 14.3499%.
Considering you needed at least 70% for a successful coupling, this was straight-up abnormal. How the hell had that guy even pulled off a coupling with numbers like that? Repeated couplings at this rate would wreck her body for sure. No wonder she'd felt sick the first day.
But was just waiting around endlessly for Natsuo the right call?
As if answering her question—
Don't regret it too late after someone dies.
Netoru's words flashed through her mind. Karen groaned, clutching her forehead with a sigh.
"Haa…"
Hated to admit it, but he was right. If she dithered and someone actually died, she'd regret it forever. She appreciated Seres's kindness in worrying about her, but she couldn't just lean on it forever.
…Maybe I should at least try.
14.3499%. Near rock-bottom compatibility. But flipped around, that left tons of room for improvement, right? If the mismatch was the issue, she just had to raise it somehow. Worth a shot, at least.
The problem was how to raise it with that guy.
Several methods crossed her mind in that instant. And the fastest way to boost the wavelength match rate was, of course…
"…I'm crazy."
No way. Face flushing, Karen shook her head vigorously. But she couldn't just sit on her hands either. So she'd try everything possible. Their relationship was basically zero anyway… no, negative, maybe. Turn that minus into a plus, and the match rate should budge at least a little.
A week had passed since their first battle after deployment to the 39th Sector. The usually bustling and noisy gym was unusually quiet now.
"…Not bad."
Late evening. In the empty gym, Netoru smirked in satisfaction as he used the facilities freely.
Maybe because of the repeated sorties lately, fewer unit members were hitting the gym. Netoru loved the situation.
He'd always had awkward vibes with the others, and whenever their workout routines overlapped, it turned into a hassle. They'd end up in petty stare-downs over equipment.
He wasn't one to dodge a challenge if someone picked a fight, but when working out, he preferred to focus. This base was rundown anyway, and the gym was no exception—just a few scavenged machines to make it look the part.
Wasting time on pissing contests over rusty gear? Pointless.
A strange sense of contentment washed over him as he sweated alone in the gym. That's when—
"…Hm?"
Netoru set down his equipment and slowly turned his head. Thud, thud. Footsteps approached.
Someone coming to the gym? He stared idly at the entrance out of curiosity.
Soon, the owner of the footsteps appeared. Unexpectedly, it was Karen.
She scanned the gym like she was looking for someone, then spotted Netoru staring and gave an awkward smile.
"…Wanna eat dinner with the squad?"
Netoru furrowed his brow, wondering if he'd misheard.