Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Fall of Maximilian
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I stashed away the boulders I'd thoroughly devoured, storing them along one side of the Treegalaon's camouflage.
The Treegalaons I'd brought along as mercenaries didn't have Nesefala genes mixed in, so they couldn't consume anything here.
I'll have to carry them all the way to Lushaka and feed every last one to Colossus.
As I indulged in that happy thought, the Count came to visit.
"Allow me to express my gratitude once more, Lord Verilak of the Merchant Guild. Maximilian is in your debt."
"Ah, Count. Congratulations on your victory."
Best to start by buttering each other up.
"It was truly an astonishing strategy. Close-quarters combat in open space? I couldn't have even imagined it."
"You're referring to the Empire's main force resonance-type multi-form combat armor. A gift from His Majesty the Emperor himself. I had my doubts about its practicality at first, but His Majesty's insight is unmatched, as expected."
"Is it a machine only Imperial citizens can pilot?"
"Well, it doesn't strictly have to be an Imperial citizen, but since you have to link your ego directly to the machine, anyone without electrons and circuits would struggle, wouldn't they?"
What a shame.
"That's a pity. I really wanted one."
"I understand. There's something profoundly stirring about it. Why not take this opportunity to undergo mechanization surgery yourself, Guild Lord? If you rack up some achievements in the war, His Majesty might even grant you one personally."
As a hardcore rationalist with no prejudice against becoming a machine, I was tempted to mechanize on the spot just to pilot that thing.
But would my hive mind even mechanize properly?
Could I really transfer the memories of billions of "mes" into a machine?
Even with the power of electricity and circuits, it probably couldn't match even a fraction of my original processing power.
And if I fully became a machine, that would be a problem too.
If my main body shifted to mechanical form, all those countless "mes" would shut down on the spot.
Lushaka Kingdom would be done for, and PATO's survival would be in jeopardy.
In that case, I'd have no choice but to switch sides to the Empire and enjoy the victor's perks.
Not that it matters, since I'm not getting mechanized anyway.
"I'll humbly accept the sentiment. I don't dislike machines per se, but our species is specialized in genetic manipulation."
"Mm. No misunderstanding there, so no need to worry. It's about time we left this star system. The Holy Nation forces will keep pouring in. It's too dangerous here."
"It seems you're still not interested in hiring mercenaries."
"Of course. We made a painful mistake in this battle, but the Empire never repeats the same error twice. The battle data has surely been archived in the County Castle's data center."
No matter how personable and individual these machines seemed, a machine was still a machine.
They wouldn't forget specific events.
Even an ordinary biological being probably wouldn't forget a blunder this severe.
"Then we'll withdraw to the rear. We wish you victory."
"Mm. Come visit anytime after the war ends. I'll host you personally."
Pack up, everyone.
And so, the Verilak Merchant Guild withdrew from the Maximilian Star System.
Sticking around the County any longer would just get messy.
Wars drag on, and there are plenty of potential employers, so better to part ways amicably with smiles now.
We'll meet again soon enough anyway.
Though not under the name Verilak.
"Prophet, sir. The reconnaissance toward the Botadidi border appears to have failed."
A short while later, Korallak, captain of the mercenary fleet, prostrated himself before the Prophet and reported.
"I see. So Tla'Kalan the Battle Priest failed. At this point, we can assume no survivors."
"Not a single ship returned, so the Empire must have pulled some trick."
"Tla'Kalan the Battle Priest surely fought valiantly and fell. I, the leader of Talatulan, supreme commander of the Holy Nation—and practically his father—believe it so."
"I see. Shall we send another reconnaissance fleet?"
"There must be a reason even Tla'Kalan couldn't send word. Sending another fleet would yield the same result."
"What will you do, then?"
"Order all fleets stationed in the Botadidi Star System to advance into the Maximilian Star System. Secure Maximilian and push along the hyperlane to the Gladius Star System."
"As you command."
That's how it is, Count.
No hard feelings on a personal level.
We got along decently, but the greater cause demands it, right?
In the Botadidi Star System along the Holy Nation-Empire border, the 14th, 15th, and 22nd Fleets awaiting Tla'Kalan the Battle Priest's return ignited their engines in unison.
Their target: the Maximilian Star System.
They advanced with the goal of crumbling the Empire's steadfast wall.
Having fought alongside them from the opposite side, I could understand Tla'Kalan the Battle Priest's judgment.
No need for scouts—the dense, menacingly rotating asteroid ring was visible the moment you entered the system.
Even if the Count knew exactly how to use that ring, it looked seriously disadvantageous to attackers.
"Hyperlane transit impossible. The Empire seems to be interfering somehow."
"As expected. That explains why Tla'Kalan didn't return."
Unlike Tla'Kalan the Battle Priest, the 14th and 15th Fleet commanders checked for retreat options immediately upon crossing.
It might seem cowardly, but to me, it finally looked like someone rational had shown up.
All the people I'd seen lately were missing a few screws.
Then, a psionic message arrived from the 14th Fleet commander.
"22nd Fleet commander, will you take point? We'll follow with our heavy firepower for cover."
Naturally shoving the mercenaries into the meat shield role?
The 14th Fleet commander seemed to truly understand what "war" meant.
A sound judgment indeed.
The 22nd Fleet: a ragtag mercenary bunch with inconsistent ship types and sizes.
The 14th and 15th Fleets: Holy Nation main forces, precisely organized by doctrine.
Even setting that aside, it made sense for my 22nd Fleet—dominated by close-combat powerhouse Treegalaons—to lead the vanguard.
Of course, I hated it.
Hmm, what to do.
Setting aside efficient strategy, the Maximilian Star System was surely doomed to fall.
Unless the Empire sent reinforcements.
This force was several times stronger than what Tla'Kalan had led for a power recon—surely they could handle one star system.
Fight aggressively for the Holy Nation and rack up merits?
That would inflict heavier losses on the Empire and earn trust from the Holy Nation priests, advantageous for future moves.
Or pretend to fight half-heartedly, minimizing damage to the 22nd Fleet.
That way, both sides suffer while preserving mercenary strength—but the 14th and 15th would lose trust in us.
Wait, what am I even thinking?
Me, the galaxy's foremost pacifist, about to throw temporary "allies" to the wolves?
Truly shameless.
"Leave it to our 22nd Fleet. For Ozztlan."
"Excellent. For Ozztlan."
The Empire won once; time for the Holy Nation to win one.
"Grraaaaaah——!! Ugh."
Damn, Count, you hit hard.
We were charging the fleet through the asteroid field, but he was threading shells through those countless gaps like a ghost.
Brave me was taking the hits head-on and pushing forward, but the blood loss hurt like hell.
Was the Empire the most advanced species in kinetic weapons right now? The firepower was insane.
Meanwhile, the Holy Nation fleets behind me kept getting blocked by asteroids.
Sigh. Maybe I should side with the Empire? Just as that thought crossed my mind, the Count's fleet drew near the asteroid belt.
Once full melee erupted in the asteroids, the Holy Nation finally showed its true power.
In the previous battle, even Tla'Kalan the priest had been pushed into a stalemate by the Count, probing for openings.
The weight class from psionics—an asymmetric force no ordinary nation could match.
With overwhelming fleet size, they accepted some losses and pressed on; unlike before, the Imperials couldn't hold the line.
Sacrificing the mercenary fleet had played its role perfectly.
Good thing Treegalaons carried biomass and regenerated; normal ships would've become space debris from the hits.
Thanks to those sacrifices, the 14th and 15th Fleets advanced with strength intact and overwhelmed unlike Tla'Kalan's time.
The Count darted through the asteroids nimbly, but sheer numbers overwhelmed him.
Those mecha suits must not be common. Only the Count piloted one in his territory.
If he'd hired the Verilak Merchant Guild as mercs, things would've been better.
With more close-combat forces leveraging terrain plus no Korallak Mercenaries, it'd have gone much smoother.
He wouldn't know the second reason, but it was arrogant all the same.
In that moment, a salvo from the holy battleships shattered the Count's flagship, allowing the Holy Nation to seize the Maximilian Star System.
Hiss——.
Cables disconnected from the cryo tube en masse, steam billowing as the pod opened.
"You died quicker than expected, Your Excellency Count Maximilian."
"Urgh. Who brings that many fleets to a backwater planet?"
The reason the Steel Empire—a giant on the galactic fringe—had grown so vast.
The Steel Empire birthed new individuals by implanting the Emperor-cultured "egos" into machines.
Among those cultured egos, the Emperor's chosen became nobility, allowed to back up to the Imperial Palace data vault.
For instance, Count Maximilian constantly transmitted his ego and memories from his territory's County Castle underground data center to the palace.
Should the Count become incapacitated...
His ego and memories were infused into a new body, reviving him.
No matter how many key figures the Holy Nation executed, assassinated, or slew, they kept returning.
Waging war against the Machine Empire was like fighting endlessly assembled "people."
The Holy Nation didn't know this yet.