Chapter 250: An Enemy Turned Ally
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 250: An Enemy Turned Ally
If Amitengrad was the capital for the citizens of the Military State, then the Inner Circle Command was the capital for its soldiers.
Amitengrad, built in the capital of the old kingdom, served as a residential city. It embraced its population, equipped with everything a normal city should have: housing, jobs, even farmland.
The Command, on the other hand, hardly qualified as a city. Its population was skewed, and it did nothing but endlessly consume resources without distributing them elsewhere. It was a city prepared for the sole purpose of war.
Thanks to it, the Military State maintained an army far larger than its size would suggest.
The Command was dense with all manner of military facilities necessary to wage war, such as steel mills, munitions factories, and military academies. Under the supervision of soldiers, laborers toiled ceaselessly, and the weapons and materials born from their labor steadily accumulated.
All to one day unleash this stored power upon other nations when the time came.
The Inner Circle Command outpost, always safe from invasion due to its location in the heart of the Military State.
There, an officer was trembling with inner fear.
Although the Military State hadn't given a clear answer, an officer of his rank heard many things.
That the Abyss had collapsed, that the worst beings in history had been unleashed from it, and that they were now approaching the Command to hold those who had imprisoned them accountable.
His mission was to stop them from storming the Command.
That was the extent of the information he had been given.
In other words, he knew nothing.
“Are you afraid, Second Lieutenant?”
A deep voice sounded from behind him. He had only heard it a handful of times, but it was a voice he could not forget—no, a voice he must not forget.
The rigidly disciplined second lieutenant spun around and saluted him.
“Sir!”
Standing there with his hands clasped behind his back was a general officer in uniform.
In the Military State, where strength was status, the ages of the generals were varied. But as Qi Art was quite difficult to master, even he, one of the younger generals, was already approaching his mid-thirties.
He spoke to the much younger, newly commissioned officer in a soothing tone.
“You’re all tensed up. Relax. The greatest threat comes from the gun that hasn't been fired, the sharpest edge from the sword that hasn't been swung. If you’re already this tense, you'll have no strength left when you actually need it.”
“I will correct my posture, sir!”
“I’ll ask again, Second Lieutenant. Are you afraid?”
Only then did the lieutenant remember that he still hadn't answered the first question. A punishable offense. He answered in a rush.
“I am only a little afraid, sir!”
“Oh? A soldier of the Military State feels fear?”
“I-I will correct my statement, sir!”
“There’s no need. Because I am afraid, too.”
The general patted the lieutenant’s shoulder, then clasped his hands behind his back and walked forward. While the lieutenant stood stunned by the unexpected reply, the general stared into the darkness beyond and muttered.
“One cannot predict victory or defeat before a battle. But I have a rough sense of whether I’ll live or die. The enemy is strong, and by comparison, the outer defense force is lacking. No matter how harsh our training, we are no more than a standard level 3 unit. To anyone, we are… sacrificial pawns.”
The lieutenant looked deeply shocked by the cold truth.
Even if it was the truth, there was a world of difference between comrades joking about it self-deprecatingly and a man of such authority declaring it as fact. The lieutenant repeated in a trembling voice.
“S-sacrificial pawns… sir.”
“Yes. You are defending this place without knowing that fact, but it’s best not to expect reinforcements if a battle breaks out. Prepare to fight to the death.”
If one wanted to know the heart of an abandoned piece, one need only read the lieutenant’s mind. As he hung his head in despair, the general’s voice came from above.
“Instead, I will promise you this one thing. I am your commander and the one in charge here. I will meet the same end as you in this outpost. Whether we live or die.”
Was there anything easier to move than a heart that had just plunged into despair? The lieutenant looked up at the general, his face filled with emotion. For the first time in a long while, he offered a salute that came from the heart.
The general, who had expected as much, glanced away to hide his satisfied smile.
The general was a commander.
To use the analogy of gears, he bore the crucial role of the axle. Under his command, countless teeth threw themselves into the fray, grinding against each other. The axle had to endure that force and weight and survive until the end, which was why it was treated specially in the Military State.
Even so, the first to clash with the enemy was the second lieutenant commanding troops on the front line. No matter how important the axle, if the teeth of the gear broke, it would just spin uselessly.
Thus, the general had personally appeared on the front lines to boost their morale.
‘Whether a second lieutenant or a general, we are all just parts. The only difference is the number we command.’
The general murmured to himself. But it was merely a calm assessment of his own situation; he held no particular dissatisfaction with it.
A general gets to know many things. The fact that he was nothing more than a piece on a board was part of it. Perhaps even knowing that was a blessing. Most soldiers simply did their assigned tasks without even knowing what part they were.
Only those who have climbed high realize how insignificant they are. One had to become a general, an axle connected to the center, to understand one’s own position.
‘Still, isn’t this better than the Kingdom? That horrible country where they were constantly sizing each other up, desperate to start a duel the moment someone showed weakness.’
But, the general thought, a "however" crossing his mind.
The second lieutenant, freshly graduated from the military academy and commissioned, was young. He had only lived in the Kingdom for a few years after birth. He was part of the ‘good generation’ that couldn't remember what the Kingdom was like.
But to those who don't remember the Kingdom… how did the Military State appear?
‘I wouldn't know. Not unless I could read minds.’
Just as the general muttered this and cast his gaze outward, the searchlights, which had been sweeping left and right, caught something. Five beams of light shot from their position, illuminating the darkness beyond. The searchlights had undoubtedly spotted something moving.
The general raised his hand.
“They’re coming.”
The waiting soldiers tensed, aiming their weapons forward. Cannons and machine guns also turned their muzzles toward the darkness. They were soldiers of the Military State, after all; none would flee in the face of fear.
The sound of a dry swallow was heard. It came from his own throat. The general let out a hollow laugh.
‘I’ve risen to the rank of general, yet I still get nervous before a superior opponent. Hmph. No different from a company-grade officer, it seems.’
The general snorted and inserted a weapon packet into his Bio-receptor. In that instant, a thin layer of alchemic steel wrapped around his entire body. It was the Iron Scale Armor, a defensive general's combat arm specially made for him, a dagger user.
The shorter the weapon's reach, the more one needed armor that could save one's life. Feeling the sense of security from the slightly constricting armor, he raised a sharp dagger that resembled a fang.
The rattling sound grew closer. Their forms were still invisible, perhaps because they were cloaked in darkness. But judging by the area the searchlights were sweeping, they had to be quite close.
‘Wait. Darkness? I was definitely told to be careful, that the searchlights couldn't penetrate it…’
Just as he recalled the information from the Signaller and shot his head up, the rattling sound arrived before them. What appeared was… an automaton carriage that looked like it had rolled over five times.
The shattered chassis was one thing, but compared to the interior, the exterior was in relatively good shape. The inside looked as if someone had grabbed it with one hand and twisted it, leaving it a crushed and misaligned mess.
But the most important fact of all:
The automaton carriage was empty.
After finishing his inspection, the general raised his hand and shouted.
“It’s a diversion! The enemy has already infiltrated under the cover of night! Relay this to the Signaller!”
“Yes, sir!”
Watching the second lieutenant dash toward the communication golem, the general sighed inwardly.
It was much later that he realized it had been a sigh of relief.
*
There are times in life when you just want to destroy the country. They say even the king gets bad-mouthed behind his back, but since the Military State has no king, my grumbling could only be directed at the nation itself.
What’s that? Just don't complain? Well, sometimes in life, things happen that are just too hard to bear without blaming someone. That’s how you become an adult.
As a model citizen, whenever things didn't go my way, I used to soothe my gloomy heart by cursing the Military State to hell and back.
It was a joke, of course. An ordinary individual can't ruin a country, and something absolutely unattainable has the makings of a joke. For me, the curse for the Military State to be ruined was always just that—a joke.
But now.
I was with a being who could genuinely destroy the Military State.
An automaton carriage assembly plant, located near the Command.
“The Military State's method of combat is maneuver warfare. Signallers, automaton carriages, and the chain of command. These three things allow the speed of execution to keep pace with the speed of command. The existence of automaton carriages is essential for that.”
With the burning, collapsing production facility as her backdrop, Historia emerged and held out her hand. The blazing flames lit the single mana herb held in her fingers.
Her face cast in shadow, she took a drag of the mana herb and explained calmly.
“This assembly facility can't be easily restored. No matter how many parts you have, they’re just lumps of iron if they don't go through the assembly process. Destroy the process itself, and the factory is paralyzed. Unless you have someone like Director Maximilien, it would take five engineer corps battalions to restore it.”
Just then, an almost-completed automaton carriage caught her eye. She kicked it sideways with a powerful blow. The door, imprinted with her combat boot, flew off, and the screeching carriage slid sideways until it crashed into a wall and fell apart.
“Without this place, the Command’s troop deployment will be disrupted.”
Having cleaned up the last one, Historia walked away, her combat boots clicking.
As someone who had been at the highest position in the Military State, Historia was more knowledgeable about it than anyone. When she personally committed acts of destruction with that power and knowledge, the fragile steel machinery couldn't withstand it. Before Historia’s systematic violence, the soft alchemic steel bent and was crushed. In the face of Alchemy (physics), nothing retained its original form.
Leaving the factory, now a giant torch illuminating the night, Historia walked out the door.
The Regressor, who had been assisting her in the destruction, retorted with a sullen face.
“I’m telling you, this is meaningless. It’s barely a hindrance. The Signallers will just scrape together automaton carriages from somewhere else. Unless we do something about the Signallers.”
“We can’t do anything about the Signallers. Even I, a Six General, don’t know where they work. I doubt anyone in the Military State knows, except for the Signallers themselves.”
Historia didn't seem particularly regretful about her ignorance. The Regressor probed.
“For someone who doesn't know, you seem oddly concerned about them. You’re the one who knows something, aren’t you?”
“…I don’t know. That’s why I’m concerned.”
Historia exhaled a puff of smoke and muttered.
“They clearly exist, but I’ve never seen them. Most people have no idea how terrifying that is… even if they’re captains, they’re in no better a position.”
They exist but cannot be seen. That meant they were hiding somewhere or living without revealing their identities.
She didn't know they communicated exclusively through golems from a windowless room, but Historia’s guess was close enough.
“Of course, as you said, attacking the Communications Headquarters would cause a disruption. If it falls, the amount of information they can transmit will plummet.”
“Right! We should hit them first!”
“Even for that, this step is necessary. They can’t wage a war after losing all their key facilities. The Military State will surely dispatch elite troops from the Command… and then, we can strike the empty Command.”
At a glance, it sounded reasonable. But the Regressor had been through her own share of trials. She saw through the hidden intent in Historia’s proposal.
“You’re using a diversionary tactic to avoid a fight, aren’t you?”
From changing direction to attack the automaton carriage assembly plant to deliberately and persistently targeting only the equipment, Historia was blatantly avoiding combat.
“Hmph. What a great pacifist you are.”
“I’m with a kid who wants to stop the war, so maybe it rubbed off on me.”
Left without a comeback, the Regressor shot her a sharp glare. Historia did not look away.
The two stared each other down for a moment, then turned their heads away in mutual displeasure. The Regressor asked.
“What about him?”
“If you mean Huey, he went to gather the laborers.”
“Why?”
Spitting out the butt of her burnt-out mana herb, Historia muttered.
“He’s probably planning some other trick.”
*
There’s a joke in the Military State: the only things in its factories are gears.
Obviously, factories need workers. No matter how intricate, gears lack flexibility. For carrying out tasks suited to all sorts of situations, using humans in some places is more rational.
So why only gears?
Because the humans work as parts of the machine.
They enter the narrow spaces where gears creak and half-assembled automaton carriages flow along the belt, spaces where stretching might get a limb torn off. A human’s heartbeat is their own, but the factory’s heartbeat is the same for all. Tick-tock, tick-tock. In the darkness where everything meshes to the same rhythm, the laborer had to lie down or squat in their assigned spot and insert the parts delivered by the gears on time.
Miss one, and you get a demerit. Since everyone works to the same rhythm, one person’s minor mistake leads to a delay for the whole line. The overseer would roar and press them, and they would have to correct the mistake under the cold gaze of the next laborer in line.
Because the work was so harsh, the Military State only sent criminals to the Inner Circle labor camps.
And because they worked them so harshly, the Inner Circle labor camps boasted the highest production rates.
While gathering the survivors, I read a thought from a corner and approached. People were hiding in a nook of the facility. I walked over, making my footsteps loud, and peered down at them.
“Eek!”
“Alright, alright! Come on out! I told everyone to come out, why are you all keeping your mouths shut!”
At my urging, the laborers came out, whimpering. After years of following the Military State’s orders to the letter, not even a sprout of defiance remained in them.
I herded the crawling people into a corner. About two hundred of them, the night shift that had been running the factory even at this hour. I began my speech to the terrified, huddled crowd.
“…Now, it seems you all still don’t understand.”
Whoosh. I spread my hands and pointed to the hangar. There, 200 automaton carriages that had yet to be shipped out stood waiting for their owners.
“I’m giving each and every one of you an automaton carriage, for free! No strings attached! Wow! Don't miss this chance to get your hands on an automaton carriage that you'd normally have to work until you die, be resurrected as a vampire, and then work for another thirty years to fully own!”
A few of the laborers were tempted, while others suspected my motives.
But most were too terrified, their ears closed, just waiting for me to leave.
“Leave us alone…”
Most of the laborers in the Inner Circle were criminals.
I hope you don't see all criminals in a bad light. In the Military State, governed by strict rules, "criminal" is a general term for anyone who isn't quite a model citizen.
People who stole, people who hit their neighbors, people who swindled money, people who killed someone by accident, people who engaged in smuggling, people who held anti-State sentiments and fell into a trap trying to join the resistance.
Criminals who were once brave enough to ignore the law were now docile laborers, huddled together, passively awaiting their verdict.
“I’m giving you a chance to cast all of that aside! In front of you are automaton carriages, and the soldiers who oppressed and imprisoned you have all fled! Now, what you've lost are your chains, and what you've gained is the freedom to roam this world! Start a new life with an automaton carriage!”
“…What if we get caught trying to escape?”
Someone muttered the worst-case scenario. Once one person started, a flood of murmurs poured from the laborers.
“We’ll be dragged deeper inside. We’ll… we’ll all die.”
“We might be turned into materials… Oh, no. Not inside.”
“This is unfair. You’re the ones who attacked… It’s your fault we couldn’t meet our quota.”
Now they directed their resentment toward us. Worry about the future was glorifying the past.
We were doing fine on our own, and then you suddenly showed up. If it weren't for you, tomorrow would have been the same as yesterday.
They were dragged here for committing crimes. They trembled in fear after seeing what happened to those who resisted and ended up in even more horrific situations. They set aside their pride and submitted to the Military State.
The most exemplary success story produced by the Military State's education camps. The true success of the rehabilitation project.
Living gears, created by trampling on their dignity.
But I couldn't leave them here. Historia and the Regressor had only destroyed the equipment, but these people were the true core components of this factory. Their presence would speed up the factory's restoration.
Now, to destroy it completely and perfectly.
I cleared my throat softly and began the words that would persuade them.
“Everyone, did you know?”