The Lucky Charm
The White Shriek Forest was a place the Zabalcan Empire could not casually touch.
A vast woodland covering fully two-tenths of the planet. A treasure house of natural resources. The lungs that kept the planetary ecosystem alive.
Because of an intense, unidentified magnetic field blanketing the forest, communications and electronic equipment were nearly useless inside it. And yet simply bulldozing the place was not an option — the planet's ecosystem would collapse. Maintaining that ecosystem without the White Shriek Forest would cost an astronomical sum.
That was why, even knowing a resistance base lay somewhere within the White Shriek Forest, the Empire could not easily move against it.
And Kunlo — the outsider who had just been brought into that resistance base — was overwhelmed with gratitude that the rumors had been true.
The rumors were real! The resistance was still out there!
Before he met Jincheon, after the resistance forces had been defeated, he had despaired at the news that the remnants were being hunted down one by one. And yet here they still were.
The condition of what remained, however, did not look good.
More than a third of the fighters living in tents pitched across an artificially cleared lot were wounded. Only a single mecha lay on its back in the clearing, under maintenance. As for equipment, most of them — a few exceptions aside — carried nothing more than rifles, without powered armor or even full-body ballistic suits.
The one other notable feature was an artificial cave cut into a massive hill.
To hide from the White Shriek's attacks.
A cave dug so they could vanish on the one day each month when the forest's overlord, the White Shriek, came out to hunt.
The scale is small. But I expected that much.
After the crushing defeat three years ago, and the successive purges that followed, their numbers would have been drastically reduced. Even so, Kunlo's expression was not a dark one.
This is what I wanted.
Hardship was fine. It did not matter if no one recognized him. The impact he made on the war might be negligible.
I fight the Zabalcan. My path was decided from the start.
The feeling that had flooded him when he killed Zabalcan soldiers had been pure, fierce exhilaration.
And so, around the time Kunlo settled on his path, the surviving Heliane and the man with her were holding a meeting with the other officers inside the cave meant to shelter them from the White Shriek.
"Zabalcan pursuit has climbed right up under our chins. It's gotten so bad we can barely operate outside at all."
"Damn it… How the hell did they find the supply team?"
"We were careful with security. We were sure it was safe…"
The mood was grim. These were all who had barely survived the war three years ago, and supply lines from the anti-Zabalcan alliance had all but dried up. Even the supplies scraped together from those still willing to cooperate with the resistance had been lost when Zabalcan units hit the recovery runs.
Morale was scraping the floor. They had no materiel. Of course the atmosphere was foul.
They held a strategy meeting, but the only answer that came out was the usual platitude about double-checking security. Then they moved on to the next item of business.
"Hey, Heliane. Don't you think this is too reckless?"
A man covered head to toe in thick fur raised an objection to the proposal she had put forward.
"Take in some nobody we know nothing about as a resistance fighter? Did you forget what happened two years ago?"
After the defeat three years prior, a desperate resistance had taken in volunteers without discrimination. Among those volunteers had been Zabalcan collaborators. Ambush after ambush had followed, and even the last embers of a possible revival had been stamped out.
"I know that."
"You know, and you still want to repeat it?"
"Kunlo is different! He helped us when he could have killed us!"
"It could be a Zabalcan scheme to learn our location! Are you too stupid to even consider something that basic?"
"With that brilliant head of yours, you walked straight into a trap even a child would avoid, abandoned your comrades, and ran off alone!?"
"Heliane!!"
The argument escalated until they were clawing at each other's old wounds. Under ordinary circumstances, comrades who had crossed the line between life and death together would have known where to stop — but the situation was catastrophic and morale was in freefall, so their words grew steadily more vicious.
"Both of you, calm down!"
The man who had been rescued alongside Heliane by Kunlo stepped in to stop the atmosphere from turning outright hostile.
"Jurog, your suspicion is fair, but calling her an idiot out of nowhere was too much."
"…"
"Heliane, you know perfectly well how badly that incident tore Jurog up. Even as a counterattack, that crossed the line."
"…"
At the man's words, Heliane and Jurog cooled their heads and realized what they had done.
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
"Haa. Gronel, thank god you're here."
Watching the two apologize, another officer felt genuine relief that Gronel — the man who had survived alongside Heliane — had made it back. The other officers gave small nods of agreement.
Heliane and Jurog, both hardliners of the resistance's martial faction, never ended a fight cleanly once it started. The only person who could stand against their combined force of will and bring them back together with reasoned argument was Gronel. And despite being an officer, he took the lead on countless tasks himself — the most well-liked man in the entire resistance.
"And I support taking Kunlo in."
"What? Why?"
When Gronel came out in favor of accepting Kunlo, Jurog's face twisted.
"Think of it from the Zabalcan Empire's side. Would you choose, as a spy to locate a resistance base, an enhanced soldier who can fight a Land Walker with cold weapons?"
"But as insurance if he got exposed…"
"If Kunlo had been a spy, the Zabalcan unit that was on our trail would have hit this base the moment we arrived."
"…"
With the well-liked Gronel laying out a logical case, the other officers swung around to accepting Kunlo as a member of the resistance. Jurog, however, still refused to smooth the discontent from his face.
"…And so we've decided to take you into the resistance."
"Really!? Thank you!"
Overjoyed that he finally had comrades to stand against the Zabalcan with, Kunlo bowed deeply toward Heliane. At that unguarded sincerity, she smiled.
"My eyes weren't wrong after all."
"Ma'am?"
"Your parents died because of the Zabalcan Empire, didn't they?"
"…Yes."
"Same for me."
The smile turned bitter.
"When the Zabalcan Empire invaded the planet we lived on, my father — who raised me alone — was killed by the Horned Empress assigned to the vanguard."
"The Horned Empress…!"
The Horned Empress. The personal machine of the First Princess, the most gifted pilot among the Zabalcan imperial family. An undefeated empress who could turn even a losing war around by sheer force — the single figure the anti-Zabalcan alliance feared most.
"That's how I could tell. I saw someone who had suffered the same grief I had."
Heliane had admitted to herself that Jurog's warnings carried some weight. Even so, she had pushed hard because she had recognized, in Kunlo's eyes, the pain of her own kind.
"Just so we're clear — you understand what it means to join the resistance at a time like this, right?"
"Everyone's morale is low, there are a lot of wounded, and supplies are scarce."
Kunlo acknowledged that the resistance's situation was even worse than he had expected.
"Still better than fighting the Zabalcan alone, though."
"Good. You're already resolved."
She had worried he might be disappointed by the resistance's current state — but Kunlo had already steeled himself. More certain than ever that taking him in was the right call, Heliane spoke again.
"So what exactly is that power of yours? You don't seem to be wearing powered armor, and if you'd undergone biological enhancement there'd be a mark on your neck."
The galaxy had recovered Calsorn Empire technology for enhancing the body — but it left a mark on the left side of the neck. At first people had thought it a side effect; later they learned it was an indicator of how far the body had been strengthened. By now it had become a fashion among the upper classes, a kind of identity badge proving they were not like the lower orders.
In other words, even talent was something you could buy with money these days.
Kunlo hesitated for a moment at Heliane's question.
— When that time comes, I will kill every person you have ties with, and I will wreck the inside of your body until you can barely breathe. For the rest of your life, until the day you die, you will not even be able to drink water without someone's help.
The warning Jincheon had given him when he first learned martial arts sent a chill down his spine. He carefully reviewed what his master had told him never to speak of.
He said not to tell anyone that I'm a human from another dimension.
He double-checked in case he had forgotten something — but that had been the only prohibition.
"I learned it from my master."
"Your master?"
"He's a Terran, and far stronger than I am. If my master had been standing where I was that day, he wouldn't have run — he would have wiped out every last Zabalcan and strolled off."
"…That's quite a joke."
Heliane's brow furrowed at the word Terran, and she answered in a voice thick with disbelief.
"Anyway, now that you're one of us, you can't go wandering outside. The Zabalcan might spot you."
"What? But I at least wanted to say goodbye to my master…"
"There are people in here who already suspect you're a spy. If you try to leave under those circumstances, you'll only feed the suspicion."
If he were branded a Zabalcan spy, joining the resistance would mean nothing.
I'm sorry, Master. I'll come pay my respects when things settle down.
In the end, Kunlo decided to leave without a farewell to Jincheon.
"Hey, Kunlo."
"Ah — Captain Gronel."
Just as he made that resolution, a familiar face approached.
"Don't go stiff with 'Captain' this and that. In private, just call me hyung. If I have to keep that formal crap up even here, I'll actually suffocate."
"Got it, hyung."
Kunlo snorted a laugh at Gronel's joke and changed the form of address.
"I heard you helped get me accepted into the resistance. Thank you."
"You kept me breathing. Least I could do."
Gronel thought for a moment, then pulled something from his pocket. A pendant on a broken chain, set with a cheap, nameless gemstone.
"This is a gift."
"This?"
"My lucky charm. Whenever I carried it, I somehow survived even the dangerous missions."
"What? Why would you give me something like that?"
"I told you. It's a gift."
Gronel spoke again.
"You saved my life, sure — but you also look like the kind of guy who's going to do big things. Figured I'd put a little goodwill in the bank early."
"But…"
"Take it. We're short on supplies and short on fighting power. We need someone as strong as you. Which means you'll get thrown into every dangerous job we've got. If I don't at least give you something like this, my conscience won't let me sleep."
"…Understood."
Unable to refuse the apology mixed into a gift that would clearly be used to work him hard, Kunlo accepted the pendant. With the chain broken, the only place for it was his pocket. Once he confirmed it was tucked away, Gronel smiled.
"Keep it on you. That's how the luck kicks in."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I should be thanking you. I'll arrange a place for you to stay — wait here a bit."
"Yes, sir."
Watching Gronel's retreating back, Kunlo fretted the pendant in his pocket. It was a worthless little trinket — but it was also proof that someone trusted him, and a smile settled on his lips.
"I—I'm sorry. I never expected an unforeseen ally to appear there."
In a deserted, shadowed corner of the resistance base, someone was fretting into a communicator.
Long-range communication working inside a powerful magnetic field meant a high-level shielded comm unit.
"No, truly. Just some kid named Kunlo. The officers are still rattled by his sudden appearance."
After a few more exchanges over the comm, the speaker's suspicion seemed to ease, and his expression relaxed.
"The supply team not being wiped out was unexpected, but the survivors don't have the numbers to keep resisting for long."
In the dark, someone's eyes flashed.
"We proceed as originally planned. Dispose of him along with the ones who won't be persuaded."
Hearing the instructions from the other end of the line, the speaker's mouth curved into a cold smile.
"I'll contact you again during the next operation. Yes. Understood."
He ended the call, checked the surroundings to make sure no one had overheard, erased every trace, and headed back to his own quarters.