Meat Shields and Fireworks
At first, it was simply absurd.
Then a hollow laugh burst out of him.
The lines were so brazenly, nakedly provocative that the only thought that surfaced was: What the hell is this guy doing?
Having delivered his opening salvo, Jincheon raked the knight up and down with a look of pure mockery and made to walk right past him — the gaze of a man regarding a loser, the deliberate slight of someone who had already dismissed the other as beneath notice.
That was enough. The knight seized Jincheon by the collar before he could slip away.
"Hey. What the hell did you just say?"
"Tsk. Ears that work far too well for how little they're worth. The hallmark of the incompetent — every useless part of them develops to an abnormal degree. Funny how Terra and this place are exactly the same."
Even with a fist knotted in his collar, Jincheon clicked his tongue and answered as if the whole business were a tedious chore.
"What?!"
The knight's roar of fury cracked through the hall. The consolation gathering had already been quieter than a funeral; every eye in the room snapped toward them at once.
"Huh?"
"What's going on?"
Pilots who had no idea of the context began murmuring among themselves. The security detail that would normally have come running at the first hint of a disturbance was nowhere to be seen.
"Ah, my bad. Entirely my fault. Mind letting go? Catching a loser's bad luck the day before a sortie is just asking for trouble."
It wasn't only the words. The twist of his brow, the look in his eyes, the set of his mouth — all three worked in perfect concert, producing the complicated expression of a man who was sincerely apologetic and, at the same time, desperately wished the other party would simply vanish.
"You little—!"
"What the hell did that bastard just say?"
"Has he lost his mind?"
Even with every gaze in the hall fixed on him, Jincheon went on insulting the defeated without the slightest change in demeanor. The pilots felt bewilderment before they felt rage.
"From now on you'd better think carefully before you open that mouth."
"Pfft. You want me to waste brainpower on the likes of you? You're laboring under a serious misunderstanding."
Jincheon knocked the knight's wrist aside and spoke with open arrogance.
"The one who needs to watch his mouth isn't me. It's you."
And then he explained exactly who he was.
"Unlike you lot — who lost even with proper supply lines — I cut through the rebel encirclement with barely any matériel, sweating over every single shot, and brought His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Dowager Empress here safely."
"What? Then that mercenary—"
"Is me. Sounds like the news reached you."
The knight now knew Jincheon's identity, but the insults still burned too hot to swallow. He started looking for any angle he could seize.
"That doesn't give you the right to insult us!"
"He's right! No matter what you've accomplished, you're still just a commoner!"
From every direction they piled on, inventing reasons to grind him down under the weight of their resentment.
"Pwahaha. A commoner? If I'd felt like it, I could have been a noble on the spot. Even now, if I swallowed my pride and asked for a title, I'd become a lifelong laughingstock — but I could still become a noble."
That Jincheon had been offered a peerage for his greater achievements was already common knowledge among the aristocracy. And if he were willing to endure a lifetime of mockery and demand only a token title, the odds of him receiving one were not zero.
"Listen carefully. You people are meat shields I need to rack up my achievements. Nothing more, nothing less."
"M-meat shields…?"
For pilots — elite troops in any army — the abuse pouring out of him was worse than anything they had ever heard from the nobles they once served.
"Your job is to draw the enemy's attention, turn yourselves into meat shields, and explode like fireworks at a festival. While you're busy doing that, I'll reverse the unfavorable situation with my own power."
"D-don't make me laugh! No matter how strong you are, there's a limit to what a single pilot can do in a war!"
The knight who had grabbed Jincheon's collar shoved common sense at him like a shield, trying to refute the absurd claims.
"A limit? Puhahahaha!"
Jincheon burst out laughing, then fixed the knight with a smile of pure contempt. He turned a full circle, looking down on every man who was glaring at him as if they wanted him dead, his eyes arrogant and cold.
"A genius like me can pull off feats you losers can't even imagine. In other words — you and I are different species. Species itself."
And there, to drive their rage even higher, Jincheon released a pulse of qi that magnified every ounce of his insolence.
"……"
"……!"
In that instant, the hearts of the defeated — men born on different planets, who had once served different lords — fused into a single will. A will forged entirely of fury at the man who looked down on them.
"But that's exactly why I envy you a little."
Jincheon smoothed his collar and swept his gaze over them again — eyes full of pity and curiosity — watching their faces twist at the word envy.
"I'd love to experience defeat myself, but unless I commit suicide, this body of mine simply can't lose. So here's my offer: explain the feeling of defeat you're all drowning in, and I'll give you a reward."
"Do we look like a fucking joke to you, you son of a bitch?!"
"Kill that bastard!"
"Out of my way! I'll do it myself!"
Hmm. I've still got more to say, and they're already swinging fists.
Regretting the unfinished monologue, Jincheon tapped the signal device he'd been issued in advance.
"What is this racket?!"
"Everyone, disperse!"
At the same moment, lightly armed security poured into the hall.
"Is there anyone who can explain to me what exactly is going on here?"
The security captain — who already understood the situation from orders above — glared around the room with a face full of manufactured fury at the disturbance.
"Ah, it's nothing. We were just chatting about the fireworks show that's coming up."
Jincheon shrugged, answering with an easy smile.
"Ghk—!"
"Nngh—!"
The pilots, who knew full well that the "fireworks" in question were themselves, glared at Jincheon with naked killing intent.
"Fireworks show?"
The captain looked as though he had no idea what that meant — then received a report from a guard who had reviewed the surveillance feeds. Having (naturally) confirmed that Jincheon was the cause of the entire incident, the captain furrowed his brow as deeply as he could manage and issued the arrest order.
"Have you lost your mind? The sortie is tomorrow and you're starting a brawl?!"
"Once this war is over, these guys are all going to be space junk anyway. Does it really matter?"
"Arrest this man! We'll leave his disposition to Her Majesty the Dowager Empress!"
"Yeees, yeees~ I was hoping to get away from this loser stench myself, so this works out perfectly."
"Shut up!"
"Ow ow ow! The shoulder — the shoulder! A little gentler, please!"
Jincheon was subdued and dragged away by the guards. The security captain, promising the harshest possible punishment, put on an apologetic face for the pilots.
"I'm sorry. I was suddenly reassigned to Her Majesty's personal guard detail and only just returned — I never imagined things would escalate like this."
"What kind of punishment is that bastard going to get?"
The knight who had seized Jincheon's collar cared far more about the sentence than about the guards' late arrival.
The captain recited the lines he had been given in advance.
"I'd love to punish him on the spot for insulting you, but his skill is too valuable for physical discipline. Most likely he'll serve solitary confinement — and then be thrown into the hardest fighting, to atone by earning merit."
"The hardest fighting… you say?"
"That's only my guess. The details are for Her Majesty to decide."
With that, the captain had the restrained Jincheon transferred and restored the security detail to its normal posts.
"Atone by earning merit?"
"Meaning if we fight properly, that bastard never has to step in."
"…I was a knight under Count Deron. Name's Jutgel. I specialized in long-range firefights."
"I'm…"
"We were…"
The moment one man introduced himself and named his specialty, the others began talking over one another, revealing without filter where each of them excelled. United by the absolute refusal to let a piece of trash like Jincheon steal the glory, they laid bare strengths they would normally have kept hidden.
"The pilots are introducing themselves and talking freely with one another, I'm told. How exactly did you manage to raise their fighting spirit like that?"
Having received the report from his subordinate, the security captain asked Jincheon with genuine curiosity.
"People can never stand watching someone they hate succeed. Especially when that someone starts swaggering in their own field — they want nothing more than to smash that nose flat."
Jincheon answered with a smile.
Simple insults alone could never have produced this kind of zeal.
"Blunt."
"Extremely blunt. It's something I always say — wherever people live, it's the same story."
Since he still had to enter solitary confinement for appearances, Jincheon was escorted to the brig of the Rastold Silverion and stepped into a cell barely large enough for one man to lie down.
"This kind of self-sacrifice is rare even among our own citizens… I thank you for taking on the role of the villain."
"We're all doing this so things work out for everyone, aren't we? Just make sure the meals are decent."
Starting with the security captain's gratitude, Jincheon's reputation would rise among everyone who knew the truth.
Well then. Might as well meditate while I'm here.
Most people would complain of stifling boredom in a space this cramped. Jincheon settled into a cross-legged seat and began to meditate.
For ordinary people, meditation was a practice of mental cultivation. For a martial artist of Jincheon's caliber, it was also a method of correcting the misalignment between body and spirit and restoring equilibrium. Since departing into space with Heliane and Calsira, he had rarely found a quiet moment for it. He seized the opportunity now.
In addition to solitary confinement, Jincheon was handed a punishment roughly equivalent to serving at the front without rank or privilege. To atone for his crime, he would be thrown into the fiercest fighting of the war.
Until now, both friend and foe had been caught off guard by the lack of information. The enemy would have had ample time and data by this point — and would have prepared countermeasures specifically for him.
To a third party, the sentence looked harsh. The pilots who still remembered every word Jincheon had spoken at the consolation gathering did not see it that way.
I will not let that bastard stand out.
We're fireworks? Meat shields?
A bastard like that gets a noble title and a fief for this war? Over my dead body!
Bound together by pure hostility toward the man who had trampled their pride, the pilots no longer looked anything like the broken remnants of a defeated army that had lost its lords.
The next day, Eirin's Rastold Silverion made for the spaceport, took command of the masterless forces gathered there, and set course for the battlefield.
Eirin's first objective was the Galantid System.
Of its seven planets, four were uninhabitable; the remaining three held the population. The system was no great strategic chokepoint, but it possessed a well-balanced distribution of agricultural and industrial facilities. Capturing it would secure supply production — and, more importantly, mecha manufacturing plants that would modestly raise the loyalists' production capacity.
Eirin had chosen to take an enemy system and use the victory to lift allied morale.
Word of the destination reached Jincheon even in solitary. Given the major role he was expected to play in the coming battle, there was no reason to keep him in the dark.
"Then it's going to be a hard fight."
"We'll be fighting in space while also dropping ground forces to seize the planets of the Galantid System."
Heliane had come all the way to the door of his cell to brief him on the coming campaign.
"What? Space combat and ground combat at the same time? Why?"
Jincheon tilted his head, wondering why they didn't simply clear the system from orbit and then occupy the planets at leisure. For all the knowledge he had acquired, it was a telling reminder that he was not a native of this world.
"Each of the three planets has a defensive space fortress. The enemy will dig in behind those fortresses and fight a defensive war, obviously."
A space fortress sacrificed mobility in exchange for concentrating every ounce of energy into offense and defense, giving it overwhelming combat power compared to ordinary warships.
"And in a war of attrition, the side with repair and production facilities has the advantage. Once they start using the planetary defense installations as well, we'll be at a serious disadvantage."
Planets mounted heavy laser batteries that could fire into orbit, missile silos, and other defensive systems.
"So we have to destroy their production capacity and planetary defenses while fighting a space battle at the same time. That's going to be brutal."
"And we'll have to fight battles of this scale across five more systems after this one — assuming we settle the war with our own strength alone."
The rebels held six systems in total. The loyalists' strength was comparable, but defeat reports were already filtering in from every direction. Sooner or later, the worst news of all — the fall of a planet — might arrive.
"Hold on. You're taking those temporarily motivated remnants into a fight like that?"
"The loyalist general holding Galantid managed to inflict heavy damage on the enemy with a series of tactics. We intercepted word that a rebel relief force is heading for Galantid — so we'll intercept that force and then link up with the system."
Heliane was a straightforward warrior by nature, short on rhetorical polish; her explanations tended to arrive out of order.
"And that relief force is roughly the same size as ours."
"Yeah. Your solitary stint should be over soon, too."
After a few more idle remarks, Heliane left.
"Ground combat, huh."
Until now Jincheon had fought only in space. Atmospheric combat held a different kind of anticipation for him. Fighting in vacuum and fighting on the ground demanded entirely different senses, entirely different instincts. He had trained with ground-combat simulation programs, of course — but no simulation could perfectly reproduce that subtle, living feel.
"Well now. My heart's starting to race again."
The knowledge that another battlefield he had never truly known still waited for him set his chest pounding with excitement. He made up his mind: once the enemy reinforcements were dealt with and they reached the Galantid System, he would volunteer for the planetary drop.