Souls Tied to the Battlefield

JL found himself even more at a loss as the young girl’s voice came through the comms. To claim that the sole ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reason for living was fighting—how could anyone call that normal for a human being? And yet, while she was far from normal, she was undeniably human. A human walking a razor’s edge that could drop her straight into the abyss. JL wrestled with himself. Could he trust someone like this? Could he treat her as a comrade and actually work with her? Reason and emotion stood in total opposition. His emotion, which wanted to believe in people, and his reason, which insisted that trusting a mind this broken was suicidal. After turning it over for a long while, JL remembered what the girl—Asa—had told him. Think simply.

He looked down at the weapon in his hand. Without gloves it was so repulsive that touching it made his skin crawl. At the same time, he felt the contradictory truth that it had become part of him. A disgusting lump of steel, yet this instrument of death was already inseparable from his body. JL, too, was a soldier whose soul was chained to the battlefield. He had opposed the megacorps and fought for the regular army, but in the end their destination looked the same. Maybe he and Asa weren’t so different after all. If he couldn’t even trust himself, how was he supposed to survive in a world like this? A quiet chuckle slipped out as he leaned back against the rifle’s stock once more. At least Asa was human. And because she was, he was human too. A human whose soul simply happened to be bound to war. A human who could not live without it. Just as Eileen had said—a human only one sheet of paper away from an asura.

I released the battle rifle after it had burned through every last reserve of stored energy, freeing my arm. With my body now significantly lighter, I cut through the enemy lines in every direction, tearing them apart. When firepower ran low I stripped weapons from the fallen. When damage grew too heavy to ignore I took cover and performed emergency maintenance. When there was no cover, I used my own flesh. Accelerated cognition overheated my sluggish brain. The performance of my weakened body felt like a regression to the past. Things that should have been invisible were now clear. My judgment grew sharper. I could see the exact direction a muzzle was aiming even from a distance. Running multiple implants in parallel boosted efficiency even further. The accumulating backlash damage was reaching a level I could no longer dismiss, but all I had to do was end the fight quickly.

“Uwaaaaaah!!”

A gangster who had watched his comrades die in the blink of an eye panicked and sprayed bullets wildly. His instinct-driven movements were transparent. I broke through without effort and closed the distance. Click. I pulled the pin on a grenade and shoved it into his mouth, then kicked him hard before it detonated, launching him toward the cluster of men behind him. The explosion turned them into a scattered mess of meat and scrap. The stench of blood barely had time to spread before the area grew quiet. The survivors farther back had no intention of advancing; they huddled behind cover, trembling where I could see them. Using the spare energy no longer needed by the battle rifle, I tweaked the particle data of my slug rounds and improvised a few grenades. A handful of shots later, those who had refused to peek out were blown apart in every direction.

“Hoo…”

The interior of the building had fallen silent. My lungs and heart burned like molten iron. I forced my breathing under control and looked around. The walls were gouged by countless blind rounds and explosives. Bodies and wounded lay piled at the end of the narrow corridor. A perfect scene of carnage. And yet, within that carnage, some had survived.

“D-drop your guns and c-come out! Try anything and I’ll blow this whole building—and your precious cargo—sky high!”

A man who looked like a gang lieutenant, sporting what should have been a fatal wound, was lighting a flame with his lighter implant. Half his side had been torn away, yet his eyes remained strangely clear. I had seen similar sights often enough on the battlefield that I couldn’t exactly call it impossible.

“Ha… haa.”

My entire body was running so hot that steadying my breath proved difficult. Even though I needed to think calmly, my violently contracting and expanding muscles refused to let me.

“I said drop the weapon, you bastard!”

Instead of answering, I tightened my grip on the gun in my hand. Seeing my response, he panicked further and moved the lighter implant toward the oil pooled on the floor. One spark and the entire building would become an inferno. A hair-trigger situation.

The dull crack of a gunshot followed. The man with the hole punched through his temple collapsed face-first into the oil. The implant went dead the instant his brain activity stopped.

“Being a Hound was one thing, but the situation is different now.”

This time the voice came not through comms but in person. JL stepped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out from the blind corner of the corridor. His clouded eyes were still fixed on me. I stared back at him through pupils contracted to pinpricks by the stimulant. The world that held one—or perhaps two—soldiers wavered strangely. JL paused for a moment, then opened his mouth.

But I never heard what he said next. I toppled down the stairs. In the end it was a zero-sum game: after every plus came a minus. An unpleasant ringing filled my ears. The last thing I saw was JL slowly approaching, looking down at me with an expressionless face. There was no pity in it. Like everyone else, emotion had long since become a luxury.

“…Shut up…”

When I opened my eyes on the cot, Eileen was waiting. The moment she saw me awake she took my hand and spoke in a bright voice.

“Thanks to you. The job’s wrapped up cleanly, and things with JL have progressed too.”

“Progressed, my ass…”

“After all the years I’ve spent around JL, you think I wouldn’t notice even a single shift in his attitude? At least he’s not avoiding you as blatantly as before. That’s a relief. I knew I could count on you.”

I wanted to say something back, but my body refused to cooperate. My lips were cracked and dry; even forcing out a single word took everything I had. In the end I chose to let it go ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rather than struggle. However Eileen chose to interpret it was her business. There was no need for me to step in and correct her. From everything I had learned living this long, trying to persuade others was among the most pointless endeavors imaginable.

Eileen, who had been chattering away, suddenly brought up the job we had just finished.

“By the way, JL said it was some kind of drug. Any side effects? You okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay…?”

Eileen laughed at my state and waved her hands. It seemed she had only been joking.

“Still, it’s weird. A megacorp manufacturing drugs?”

“It could be a stimulant, not a drug. There are all sorts of possible motives. Don’t try to pin down their intentions.”

“Why not?”

Eileen asked as if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she were genuinely curious. Whether she was acting or truly didn’t know, I couldn’t tell.

“A corporation is a corporation. Even if it replaces a nation, its nature doesn’t change.”

Corporations could have many different inclinations. After all, they were groups founded by humans, not machines. But they all shared one common point.

“Private interest before public good.”

Perhaps because they were the new ruling system that had replaced a rotten nation. Many people had harbored illusions about the form called revolution. Yet what appeared at the end of revolution was simply a ruler wearing a different mask.

“We’re fine staying stupid.”

Eileen continued chatting about this and that before suddenly vanishing. As always, her entrances and exits were abrupt. After she left I stared at the ceiling for a while, lost in thought, then fell asleep.

“Do I regret leaving the corporation? Well…”

Eileen was catching up with a former colleague from her old workplace. She sipped the bitter coffee handed to her in the fully automated café and chattered across the table.

“Still, there’s such a thing as basic human decency. Throwing away someone you’ve worked with for decades is garbage behavior.”

“…Right. So, how’s work going?”

Her counterpart changed the subject as soon as the uncomfortable topic arose. Eileen stared at him intently.

“Mercenaries are just small-time thugs licensed by the corporations. We get by, that’s all.”

“Sounds dangerous. Unstable.”

“Even so, we have a freedom other people don’t. Room to think. Speaking of which, I got a new comrade recently.”

Her counterpart showed no interest in that topic. He simply stared vacantly at the ceramic mug in front of him with shadowed eyes. Eileen spoke softly but clearly, pronouncing each syllable with care.

“What was the name again? Asa, I think.”

The man flinched. His body trembled as he lifted his head.

“It was Ares, right? The megacorp that controls the entire northeast of North America.”

She pretended not to know while quietly digging at the wound. The surviving Hound. The mechanic who had abandoned her own Hound. They were both people who lived as they pleased; the only difference was the faction and power they had chosen. At the point where everyone fought only for themselves, the paths they took had simply diverged. There was no good or evil on either side. Therefore Eileen felt no guilt as she stood up, leaned close to his ear, and whispered.