The Weight of Heroes
In the office beneath the command bunker, Eryk picked up the receiver. It was a direct line to the imperial palace. From the other end came the Emperor's voice.
Is the Major unharmed? Nothing has happened to her, has it?
"Nothing at all, Your Majesty," Eryk replied, his brow furrowed. He knew that damn Valentine was close to the Emperor, but he hadn't expected the man to inquire about her well-being right after an air raid. Feeling a growing sense of disgust, Eryk waited for the orders that were sure to follow.
From this moment forward, I will declare war on the Baharental Republic.
"…!!"
"A declaration of war… sir?"
Yes. For an empire that fought vampires for the sake of humanity to be treated this way… They must have coordinated with the other nations in advance.
The Baharental Republic's air raid had indeed been executed with mechanical precision, as if meticulously prepared beforehand. And right on cue after the bombing came the Republic Prime Minister's declaration, broadcast across the entire continent.
We have a duty to protect freedom and to bring liberation to all the oppressed citizens of the Empire.
The Emperor repeated the Prime Minister's words in a voice thick with rage.
"…What a joke."
Follow the orders I have given you, Lieutenant Colonel. You remember them, yes?
"To operate a new small-scale unit together with Major Valentine…"
A unit that can function with only the two of you is what we need. I know better than anyone how poor the relationship between you two heroes is, so I will not force anything. However, the Empire currently requires symbols of justice. Heroes with an image comparable to my own. As always, I trust you will carry this out splendidly.
With those words, the Emperor hung up.
"…Valentine."
In the dim office where the lights flickered unsteadily, Eryk ground his teeth. He stared at his own reflection, at the man who could do nothing to the vampire he hated, at the sight of his own country being manipulated by one of them.
"…Why feel any sympathy? Is there anyone in a war who isn't pitiful?"
He stepped closer to the mirror and spoke to himself.
"No. There isn't. I just find that vampire bitch utterly repulsive."
Eryk pulled his cap down firmly. The shadow cast by the brim hid his expression.
"…Valentine."
Clenching his fist tightly, Eryk muttered the name like a vow.
"One day… one day, without fail…"
The moment we emerged from the air-raid shelter, we immediately began rescue operations.
"Move it, move it! Even if your own family is buried under there, are you going to crawl like slugs?!"
I shouted, my face twisted in a deep scowl beneath my poncho. Only then did the soldiers shout "No, sir!" in unison and hurry into motion.
It was horrific. The bombers had already passed, but the real nightmare came afterward.
"Ugh…"
"Please… save me…"
"Aaaagh! My leg! My leg!!"
"Medic! Bring the morphine!"
The rain fell steadily, washing away the soldiers' blood while carrying away countless lives along with it.
"…He's already cold. Pulse?"
"…None, sir."
"Take only his dog tag. Recover the body properly and return it to his family."
I spoke while gently closing the eyelids of the soldier who had died with his eyes open. Scattered human body parts were visible everywhere. The training grounds were especially gruesome—soldiers crawling with both legs gone, others vomiting gouts of blood from holes punched through their stomachs.
"…If only the magic medical unit could help."
I muttered to myself as I lit a cigarette.
The magic medical unit was a special detachment composed of soldiers specialized in healing magic, unlike regular medical units. The problem was that their numbers were so few that you had to be at least a captain to receive treatment. Because healing magic placed such a heavy burden on the casters, ordinary soldiers could not benefit from it. That was why so many had died meaningless deaths today as well.
"…What meaning is there in any of this?"
What possible meaning could there be in a war between humans? Ideology, money, religion, power. For the sake of all those things, people who might have become friends instead turned red with rage at one another. Meanwhile, the ones who started the war were still enjoying tea and cakes at their political tables.
Traveling back and forth between the front lines and the home front in a nation at war, the only emotion I felt was revulsion.
The front lines are drowning in death, and the slums are starving to death from lack of food.
Why did the nobles' tables grow more lavish with each passing day?
"…Does any of this have meaning, sir?"
Kyle, who seemed to share my thoughts, had approached at some point and asked me the question. I wanted to sympathize with him, but—
"Don't think about it."
"……"
"Captain, you are a soldier."
"…Yes, sir."
"Then discard such thoughts."
We were soldiers. Soldiers who had sworn loyalty to the Empire and to those filthy pigs. We were different from the conscripts who had been sacrificed here.
"I hope you don't actually think of them as filthy pigs just because I call them that."
"……"
"It would put your life in danger."
"Understood, sir."
A soldier simply received orders and carried them out. They did not think. They did not doubt. They simply remained loyal to the Emperor. That was the absolute rule of the Imperial Army.
"Care for a smoke?"
"Thank you, sir."
I lit the cigarette for Kyle, who had accepted it. He kept his head bowed for a long time.
…If only he were a little taller.
I exhaled a long breath as I thought that. The rain showed no sign of stopping. My small body grew steadily colder.
"…Further rescue operations would be meaningless now."
"Yes, sir. Too much time has passed."
It was unfortunate for the soldiers who were still alive, but we had to end the rescue efforts here. If someone was already suffering severe blood loss and their body temperature had dropped from the rain, they were no different from a corpse. We couldn't risk making the healthy soldiers sick by letting them get soaked while trying to save those who were already beyond help.
I'm sorry, but… this is as far as we go.
Having made up my mind, I issued the order.
"All units! Cease rescue operations! Set aside your guilt!"
I gave the command in a deliberately firm tone.
"From now on, anyone begging to be saved is a water ghost! They are monsters trying to drag their comrades down with them out of selfishness!"
It hurt. The thought of abandoning my loyal subordinates.
"Set aside your guilt. You are not murderers!"
Even as I spoke, I resolved once again to bear all their sins on my own shoulders today.
"…Even if they're still breathing, take only their dog tags and fall back! We don't know when the bombing will start again! Hurry!"
"The war has already begun! Move it, move it!"
Ordering my men to abandon their comrades to death was unbearably painful. That was why I had to cast my emotions aside. In the horrors of war, emotions were nothing but obstacles.
"Each company is to return to base immediately!"
After issuing the order, I watched the soldiers move with crisp efficiency.
"Captain, you return to base as well."
At Kyle's question, I flinched. Of course. I was planning to eat now.
…I need to replenish before the effects of Eryk's blood wear off…
The moment I realized that Kyle, Kriha, and Jenny had all survived the air raid, I had felt a surge of anticipation at the thought of drinking blood. I hadn't let it show on the surface. I had been crushed by guilt and hadn't faced that desire directly. But starving any longer was unbearable.
"…I'll finish collecting the dog tags."
I had nearly shown my agitation, but I managed to improvise and spoke with a blank expression. Kyle saluted me in understanding. I wondered if one day I would end up drinking his blood too. For a moment, Bermann's face overlapped with Kyle's.
…I'm nauseous.
My stomach churned violently. I knew better than anyone how disgusting I was, yet I could not stop the fundamental act that made me that way.
As I watched Kyle walk away, I pulled my cap down low and stared at the ground. I couldn't tell whether what was running down my cheeks was tears or simply rainwater. No—I simply didn't want to know. Whether I was the version of myself that grieved or the version that didn't, I found both equally repulsive.
So I trudged through the piles of corpses.
"Ugh…!!"
"Bleeegh…!"
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
"…Ugh!!"
"You can't throw up…"
I vomited up the blood I had only just consumed. That meant I had to drink even more. I shed tears as an apology, but those tears, hidden by the rain, would never reach them.
By the time I had finished drinking from them all and felt I could not swallow another drop, I held roughly fifteen dog tags in my hand.
"…Time to head back."
I wrapped my freezing body in my arms and began to walk when—
"Valentine."
"…!!"
A voice called out from behind me.
"…Tsk. Up to your disgusting habits again?"
"…Loyalty."
It was Eryk. That damned Eryk approached me with a furrowed brow.
…I know. I know how disgusting I am… so please, just stop…
I screamed those words inside, but my face remained terrifyingly expressionless. Eryk stared down at me for a long time.
"…Are you not going to return my salute, sir?"
When I looked up and asked, Eryk—who had been glaring at me—threw a blanket over me.
"…Don't die before I kill you. When the war ends, I will be the one to take your life."
Eryk's expression was strangely complicated. He added one last thing.
"That is an order."
I could only stare at him in stunned silence.