The Day of War
Two weeks had passed, and the day of battle finally arrived.
"……."
Eirin locked eyes in silence with the figure who had appeared through a hologram aligned perfectly with her captain’s seat.
"Galdorn. I always liked your boldness—and that rough, unpretentious manner so unlike a royal."
"Is that so? I’m grateful you thought well of me."
The hologram belonged to the rebel emperor, Harcon Galdorn.
He had proposed that they face each other over communications on the very day hostilities began and only then send the signal to open fire—hence his image now floating aboard the Rastold Silverion.
"That’s why I wanted to ask. Why start a rebellion at all? Was there a hunger for power so deep that even killing your own blood seemed worthwhile, hidden beneath that open-hearted exterior?"
"You won’t believe a word I say, but by my measure it was an act for the empire’s future."
Galdorn then laid out his reasons for rising in revolt.
The balance of power shifting day by day. New forces rising to prominence. An empire that, rather than answering those changes, simply let the days slip by in empty routine.
"That is why I raised the banner of rebellion."
"You expect me to believe—"
"Of course you’ll dismiss it as the false justification of a traitor. We’ve already crossed the line where words could settle anything."
Galdorn had clearly anticipated her reply; he made no effort to hammer his cause harder than necessary.
"And… no. Never mind. There’s no need to say it."
"??"
He had been about to continue, then simply closed his mouth and let the thought die.
"Who is right will be decided by the outcome of this war. I, Harcon Galdorn, Emperor of the Giranlek Empire, hereby formally declare war upon you."
The easygoing air vanished. Majesty settled over him as he delivered the official proclamation toward Eirin.
"As regent for His Majesty Harcon Vendein, the rightful sovereign of the empire, I, Tenenorn Eirin, shall visit the emperor’s wrath upon the rebel forces."
Eirin answered in kind, accepting the declaration with a vow to crush the rebellion.
"Then this is the last time we see each other. Farewell."
Galdorn cut the link; the hologram winked out.
"Enemy fleet advancing on our formation!"
"They’re broadcasting jamming!"
As the operators reported the enemy’s movements, Eirin stretched out her hand and issued orders in a voice that never wavered.
"All ships: advance to effective range while charging main batteries. The moment we enter range, open simultaneous fire. Launch every mecha. Our side will jam as well!"
Both fleets began closing the distance, main guns charging, while mecha squadrons poured out until the already vast armadas swelled even larger with the swarm of machines.
Jincheon and his companions, launching from the Rastold Silverion, could not help raising a noisy clamor at the sheer scale of the forces arrayed before them.
"Whoa! Whoaaa! Holy shit, there’s a fuckton of them!"
"Mmm… there really are a lot. I’ve never seen a war this size."
"Same here. Taking down a few dozen won’t even register."
Ordinarily, a single pilot destroying dozens of mecha in one engagement was a legendary feat. In a clash of more than ten thousand machines on both sides combined, that number would vanish without notice—unless one started racking up kills by the hundreds.
"Heh heh heh! This is it! This is what I’ve been waiting for! I’ve always wanted to throw myself into a war this massive!"
"…Sister, Jincheon’s going berserk again."
"Is that news?"
"Fair point."
Heliane and Calsira shook their heads at Jincheon’s pure excitement—yet watching him revel like that kindled their own fighting spirit.
Over the past weeks, martial training had expanded their sensory range until they could feel enemy movements across hundreds of meters. The techniques Jincheon had taught them focused mainly on extending qi sense and controlling blood flow, yet even so their progress far outstripped any ordinary Murim cultivator’s pace.
Jincheon.
"Hm?"
Beatrix opened a secure channel; her face, framed by a pilot’s helmet, appeared on his display.
"Uh… well… you look better than I expected."
"Of course. The bigger the stage, the more my performance stands out."
"Pfft. Your confidence really is something else. I used to think it was just arrogance—never imagined your bloodlust ran this deep from the start."
They still had a few minutes before the lines closed, enough for a short exchange.
"Jincheon…"
"Yeah?"
"I haven’t told my sister yet, but once this war is over I plan to tell her I’m marrying you. That’s all right, isn’t it?"
"Hmm."
Naturally Beatrix knew nothing of the relationship between Eirin and Jincheon. He considered for a moment, then smiled.
"Fine by me. I’ve got something to tell you as well."
"Something to tell me?"
"After the war. I’ll explain then."
"Now I’ve got a real reason to survive. All right, that’s all—"
"Wait."
Just as she moved to end the call, Jincheon stopped her.
"What?"
"…The Imperial Guard answers to you, right?"
"Strictly speaking my sister is first, I’m second."
"Tell Her Majesty the Dowager: from this moment I’m taking a detachment to clear an enemy ambush."
"Ambush?"
As the battle lines formed, Jincheon had spread his qi sense and felt killing intent coiled among the asteroid belt that ringed a gas giant to the east.
Beatrix knew enough of his abilities to trust him, yet—like Eirin—she had never been shown the full monstrous extent of them. A flicker of doubt crossed her face, but only for a moment.
"Understood. How many do you need?"
She trusted him now; moving the Imperial Guard for his sake was nothing.
"Bring about twenty. We need this cleaned up fast."
Roughly forty to fifty mecha lay in wait. Jincheon’s group alone could handle them, but speed would serve the larger war better.
"Heliane, Calsira. From now on…"
He filled his women in on the ambush as well.
"An ambush… then they’re after our transports."
"Ammunition and supplies will burn through insanely fast. If the transports go down, we won’t have the strength for a long campaign."
With the main fleets and mecha already intermingled, a flank strike would do limited damage. But the supply ships riding safely in the rear were another matter entirely.
"Jincheon! Ready!"
"Good. Everyone on my tail!"
Granted free rein for this war alone, Jincheon slammed his engines to full throttle and rocketed toward the gas giant.
KRAAAAA—!
"Ahhh~! This feeling never gets old!"
The crushing pressure of raw acceleration was a pleasure that never dulled. More than that, the sensation itself was a signal to his body that combat was about to begin; adrenaline flooded him at once.
He leveled his laser rifle straight at the asteroid field where the killing intent pulsed. With chainsaws mounted on both hands, shields and lance-guns were awkward; the rifle was the practical choice.
Pew-pew!
The rail cannons on his shoulders fired in the same instant, slamming into one corner of an asteroid. A mecha that had been hiding behind it lurched into view.
"That’s one!"
Pikiiing! BOOM!
He put a laser round through it before it could even begin evasive maneuvers, then studied the machine’s silhouette in the split second before it detonated.
Big warhead-looking things mounted on both shoulders. Planning to dump those into the transports or our fleet and then bolt, huh?
Whether the transports or a fleet flank was the true target, Heliane’s guess had been close enough. One thing was certain: none of them could be left alive.
"They’ve got massive warheads on their shoulders! Watch it!"
Jamming had not yet reached this far; the warning went out cleanly to the allies trailing him. Then Jincheon plunged into the asteroid belt.
"Urgent report! Our ambush unit has been discovered! Currently engaged!"
"What?"
Sherdon Mills Gaden’s brow furrowed at the news that the force he had pre-positioned was already compromised.
The ambush unit had been seeded into the asteroid belt long before any enemy scouts arrived, provisioned with two weeks of rations and even waste-reclamation gear. Among the rebel ranks only he, Galdorn, and a bare handful of officers even knew it existed.
That it had been found so quickly left a sour taste—his perfect plan already fraying at the edges.
"Who are they fighting?"
"Lookouts report the crimson Gareld—the Crimson Reaper—leading twenty to twenty-five Imperial Guard units against the ambush force!"
Distance made reinforcement impossible, and jamming cut all contact.
Once the Crimson Reaper and the Imperial Guard show themselves, the ambush unit’s annihilation is certain.
Yet a smile slowly curved Sherdon’s lips.
Looked at another way, fortune’s smiling. We can scrub a troublesome enemy off the board right at the start.
"Tell the lookouts to report only the final result."
"Yes, sir!"
The killing intent just spiked harder?
Jincheon had been methodically picking off the ambushers with his laser rifle when the enemy’s murderous aura suddenly swelled. Instinct screamed danger.
Killing intent came in flavors. The will to kill might be the same, yet its direction shifted with circumstance—desperation when cornered and swinging wildly, or the cold pursuit of a fleeing foe when the advantage was already yours. Both were killing intent, but their weight and vector differed utterly.
A man who had tasted every variety across countless battles recognized this one at once.
"Scatter! Those bastards mean to die with us!"
"What!?"
"They’re going to self-destruct!?"
Heliane and Calsira, who knew Jincheon’s senses, immediately broke off their attack on the machines still hiding behind asteroids and opened distance.
"Beatrix! Fall back!"
"What? Why?"
Unlike the others, Beatrix did not know the full extent of his abilities; abandoning a chance to finish the ambush struck her as wasteful.
"Tch!"
There was no time for words. Jincheon closed on her machine, seized the torso with both hands, and lit his engines to absolute maximum.
"Kyaa!?"
"What do you think you’re doing!?"
"Captain!"
The Imperial Guard, who answered only to Beatrix and Eirin, flooded the channel with protests. Jincheon ignored every one of them; he had no spare capacity to save their lives as well.
BOOOOOOM!
In that instant a colossal explosion erupted from the ambushers’ hiding place.
The blast annihilated everything within tens of kilometers in a heartbeat and kept expanding. The Imperial Guard units that had not withdrawn moved too late; the fireball swallowed them and reduced them to drifting scrap in the void.
"N-no!! Ugh—!"
Beatrix stared in horror as her subordinates died, then the crushing acceleration forced a choked moan from her throat.
Jincheon had no leisure to spare her pain. He barely clawed free of the expanding kill radius himself.
"That’s an antimatter tactical warhead!"
"Isn’t that banned under the Interstellar Galactic Treaty!?"
This universe had developed antimatter bombs far more devastating than nuclear weapons. Because they could erase friend and foe alike, galactic law had forbidden their use as weapons of mass destruction.
(As a side note, S-class mecha possessed combat power equal to or greater than such devices—yet fewer than ten existed in the entire galaxy, all monopolized by the great powers, so their deployment remained unrestricted. Even the Zabalcan Empire at its most unhinged had “officially” never employed weapons of this class.)
And yet here, in a civil war, they had been used without a second thought.
"They meant to wipe every last one of us out in a single stroke."
Unlike every previous war, Jincheon could taste raw, absolute malice—the intent to kill them all, no quarter given. Until now even the bitterest fights had carried the bare minimum of honor: surrender meant capture. This time that scrap of decency was gone.
"Whoever you are, let’s play this properly."
The easy grin that had carried him through earlier battles vanished. Tasting the malice of the mind that had planned this, Jincheon licked his lips like a predator scenting prey.