The One-Man Army
Huh. This looks a bit dangerous.
That was Jincheon's first impression the moment he arrived on the battlefield.
Overall the fight hung in a razor-thin balance, yet in several places the enemy had scored tactical successes and was already cracking the allied formation.
In that case I need to flip the atmosphere and make my presence felt, don't I?
Wanting both friend and foe to know he had arrived, Jincheon streaked toward the enemy fleet.
Tukakakakakang!
Naturally the enemy ships threw up a wall of anti-air fire to keep him from closing, but solid projectiles slower than lasers stood no chance of hitting him except at point-blank range.
Weaving left and right by the barest margins, Jincheon's Gareld unlocked the Anti-Ship Sword.
He spun the mecha once and snatched the hilt of the massive blade as it detached from his back.
High-output laser swords were fine, but nothing beat the cutting feel of the Anti-Ship Sword—half solid steel, half laser edge.
"Hero Sword Style, Second Form! Charging Thrust!"
Jincheon drove Gareld diagonally downward, both hands locked on the Anti-Ship Sword, body fully committed to the lunge.
Kwajijijik!
The blade sank so deep into the hull of an unlucky destroyer that the hand-guard nearly kissed the armor.
He ripped the laser edge sideways in a great cleaving arc; something critical must have ruptured, because the ship tore itself apart in a chain of explosions centered on the gash.
Kwaaang!
The blast was more than enough to announce his presence to every ship on both sides.
"The Red Reaper has begun attacking the enemy fleet's flank!"
"Captain!"
Receiving the report of the explosion in the enemy ranks, Eirin saw the desperate look on her vice-captain's face and forced her mind into overdrive.
Should she let him keep hammering the enemy fleet, or call him back to shore up the mecha units that were slowly being pushed back?
No. He already knows what needs to be done to win a battlefield.
Until now Jincheon had always solved whatever the allies needed most without waiting for orders. Eirin trusted he would do the same this time and decided no further instructions were necessary.
"The Red Reaper only unleashes his full power when he is free to run wild in the direction he chooses! We already granted him that discretion—report only his results!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
At her order every operator and every soul in the CIC became certain that Eirin was playing favorites with Jincheon.
She tried to treat everyone fairly, yet the boundless trust she showed him made the conclusion inevitable.
Meanwhile, free to act as he pleased, Jincheon destroyed several more ships while Eirin was still deliberating.
A few ships don't even register when the fleet is this big.
The enemy alone numbered well over a thousand vessels. In ordinary battles a hundred ships was already a large force; wrecking a few dozen would immediately swing the tide. Once the count climbed into the thousands, that same number barely made a dent.
Then I just have to hit the one thing that can change the entire battle.
Confirming that the enemy's jamming had finally dropped, Jincheon opened a channel.
"Heliane."
—Jincheon!? I'm busy right now!—
He had called Heliane first, but she was fully occupied simply surviving the enemies in front of her. Sensing the urgency in her voice, he switched to Calsira.
"Hey, Calsira."
=Jincheon-nim? If you have something to say, say it fast! I'm busy too!=
Calsira was busy as well, yet she still had enough breathing room to listen.
"I just got here. Need a fix on the enemy flagship."
=Front line! Up ahead! With the escorts! It's there!=
She forced the answer out through clenched teeth and a frantic expression.
"Need a hand?"
=We can still hold! Whatever you're going to do—do it fast!=
She cut the link so she could focus on the fight.
"Yeah, they really are that busy."
Whatever tricks the enemy mecha units were using, the pressure they radiated was no joke. Explosions bloomed without pause in every direction, proof of how ferocious the melee had become.
She said the flagship is on the front line. That means they did something to raise morale and then deliberately showed themselves there.
No emperor would otherwise risk appearing on the front line.
Jincheon abandoned fleet-hunting and swung toward the absolute tip of the enemy formation, hunting Galdorn.
His movement was of course reported to Galdorn's flagship.
"Red Reaper has ceased attacks and is on the move!"
"He's ignoring every allied ship and still not entering the main engagement!"
Hearing the operators, Mills Gaden became certain the Red Reaper was coming for them.
"Your Majesty! We must withdraw now! This flagship is sturdy, but—!"
"No. We fight here."
"Your Majesty!"
Mills Gaden shouted in frustration at Galdorn's stubbornness.
"If we fall back to the rear, does that make us safe? He will simply chase us there. Judging by the ability he has already shown, front line or rear makes no difference."
Galdorn was not refusing out of mere pride; his reasons were practical.
"If the result is the same, there is no need to retreat and crush our own morale. Besides, we still have that left, do we not?"
"…Understood."
Mills Gaden had always believed a supreme commander must stay in the safest place. Once he confirmed what Galdorn meant, he discarded the old dogma.
"The Red Reaper appears to have locked onto the flagship! He is coming straight for us!"
"Signal the escorts! Shield formation!"
Galdorn ordered the escorts into motion. At his command more than ten escort ships ringed the flagship.
"Link the distortion fields!"
The second order went out and shields bloomed from each escort. The fields connected, swelling into one colossal barrier that completely enclosed Galdorn's flagship.
Unlike ordinary shields, wave-like ripples swirled across its surface.
"Still, be careful. Under normal conditions the Rastold Silverion would sit at the center and amplify the distortion field into an invincible defense. This ship cannot fill that role."
"A concentrated barrage would be dangerous, yes. But will the enemy even get the chance to deliver one?"
The mecha units were still locked in savage combat; fleets traded main-gun fire and ships whose shields or hull integrity had failed erupted in fireballs. Both sides were fighting for their lives. Even if a concentrated barrage did come, they could weather it once. The moment a second volley began to form, Galdorn would simply fall back.
For now, the Red Reaper had to be dealt with.
"Red Reaper has arrived!"
"He is attacking the distortion field!"
"Heh. First time seeing a distortion field, is it?"
Galdorn smirked with easy confidence. The field was unstable without the Rastold Silverion, yet it was hardly so fragile that a single mecha could tear it down.
Jincheon discovered that truth first-hand.
Paaang!
He fired a laser shotgun to test the shield's strength.
It was no ordinary shield—it was a distortion field.
The instant the laser bolts struck the surface—
"Uh?"
—they sank into the field and shot straight back at him.
Not a normal shield. The physical laws inside that barrier are different.
He had flown in thinking one clean strike on the flagship would end the war, only to find this waiting for him.
What now? Go help the allies instead?
He probed for gaps a few more times, but no single mecha could break that strength. Close-range weapons left not even a scratch no matter how hard he stabbed or sliced; ranged weapons were absorbed and returned to sender.
My temper wants me to just smash it with Inner Qi…
If he chose, he could coat Gareld's surface with Inner Qi and massively amplify its striking power—wrap Sword Gang around the ten-meter Anti-Ship Sword or the chainsaw, layer Inner Qi onto projectile weapons, or simply pour Fist Gang into a bare fist.
No choice. The moment I start thinking "just this once," I end up using my martial arts in combat.
In the end Jincheon decided not to exceed a pilot's ordinary capabilities. He abandoned Galdorn's flagship and turned toward the raging mecha battle.
"Red Reaper is joining the front line."
"The moment he decides something is impossible he immediately switches targets. I like this fellow."
Galdorn stroked his chin, pleased by the combination of overwhelming skill and a complete lack of useless pride.
"Communications officer. Open a channel to the Red Reaper."
"Pardon?"
The officer was briefly speechless. Under normal circumstances someone would have glared at him for questioning an emperor's order, but this time everyone shared the same stunned thought and no one rebuked him.
"Now."
Galdorn's short, sharp command left no room for argument.
"Y-yes, Your Majesty! Connecting immediately!"
Under that fierce gaze the officer linked the channel to Jincheon's Gareld.
A moment later Jincheon's face appeared in a holographic window before Galdorn's eyes.
—What the hell? Never seen this frequency before.—
"Ah… greetings."
—Greetings! Strong and powerful morning! If you were to ask me… ah, never mind. How ancient is that material? You—I've seen that face somewhere, haven't I?—
After laughing and joking alone for a second, Jincheon dropped the act and eyed the stranger with open suspicion.
"You bastard! How dare you speak that way to—!"
—Hey, lackey, shut it. I wasn't talking to you.—
"Hahahaha! More open-hearted than I expected! Or is that pure confidence?"
Galdorn burst out laughing at the way Jincheon remained completely unfazed even after realizing who he was speaking to. It was not empty bluster or pride; it was the natural self-assurance of a man who truly believed he could handle Galdorn himself given enough time.
"We both know who the other is, so I will keep this short. Red Reaper—why do you aid the Dowager Empress?"
—Because she's my employer?—
"Consider what she promised you. I will give you twice that."
—Ha. And if I end up with a ducal title, then what?—
"Then I simply grant you more territory to match it."
Jincheon felt a strange flicker of goodwill toward the man who answered his provocative jab without so much as a change of expression. Every "big shot" he had met until now had been authoritarian and unable to tolerate insubordination. Even though Galdorn's claim to the throne was not universally recognized, he still held the title of emperor—yet he accepted a mere pilot's rudeness and spoke to him as an equal. That alone stirred Jincheon's curiosity.
—You opened a channel, so you must have something to say. For the record, if you're just trying to buy time while we talk, you're already wrong.—
"Red Reaper is charging the allied lines!"
Jincheon never stopped moving. He plunged straight into the rebel mecha units that had braced for his assault. Allied signals vanished at terrifying speed, proving the Red Reaper's reputation was no empty boast.
Galdorn, however, remained unflustered.
"You seem rather busy. Can you still hold a conversation?"
—Obviously. If I couldn't talk while doing this much, I wouldn't deserve to be called a one-man army.—
Amazingly, Jincheon's voice carried not the slightest trace of haste—even while he was weaving through a storm of enemy fire.
"A one-man army… yes, the title fits."
Galdorn glanced at the tactical display and quietly marveled as the Red Reaper danced through the chaos, cutting down his subordinates one after another. To maintain that level of focus while still holding a conversation…
Sir Poltein's defeat was inevitable, in a way. The gap in pure pilot quality is simply too vast.
Galdorn himself had never been a pilot, yet while winning the hearts of the capital's military he had learned how much concentration combat demanded of them. Extreme tension and focus drained stamina at a frightening rate no matter how healthy the body. Yet Jincheon maintained that focus and chatted as if it cost him nothing. Asking any other pilot to do the same would only earn a cold stare.
"My earlier words were not meant to disrupt your concentration. If you come over to our side, I will grant you a ducal title and an A-class star system."
"Your Majesty!?"
—Your own people will revolt.—
"Irrelevant. The Giranlek Empire I envision will be far larger and greater. For that I need a one-man-army-class pilot like you. If you wish, I will even spend the national budget to purchase you an outstanding mecha."
The offer was so comprehensive it was almost tempting. From the man's voice, expression, and eyes, Jincheon could tell:
He's serious.
Galdorn truly meant every word. Astonishingly, he had not raised a rebellion out of simple lust for power; he had done it because he sincerely feared for the future of the nation that had raised him. The loyalists would never accept that, of course.
—A pity.—
Faced with Galdorn's genuine sincerity, Jincheon's playful expression vanished, replaced by a serious face.
—If I hadn't already taken the Dowager Empress's commission, we might have become good friends.—
What? The atmosphere just shifted.
As Jincheon grew serious, Galdorn suddenly felt as though he were speaking not to a violent, wild pilot but to a middle-aged man who carried both experience and open-hearted boldness.
—Sorry, but I have something I must protect on this side. Something I will defend no matter what I have to sacrifice.—
As a man, Jincheon had a duty to protect his women. And Galdorn wanted the lives of Eirin and Beatrix—women who now belonged to him. They could perhaps negotiate a body-double arrangement, but neither woman would ever trade the lives of her subordinates for her own survival.
"Is that so. Then we have no choice but to settle this as enemies."
—Then let me make a counter-offer. Surrender and I will spare your life.—
"Heh. You mean me—the traitor, from your side's perspective?"
—It's possible. If I use the abilities I possess.—
Jincheon had already planned that if Galdorn agreed to surrender he would use his powers to create a double or alter the man's face and completely launder his identity. With Eirin's full cooperation the forgery would be flawless.
Galdorn knew Jincheon was speaking in earnest, yet he shook his head.
"A leader is told to abandon the subordinates he leads and survive alone? Could you do that?"
He, like Eirin, was a leader who carried responsibility.
—I couldn't.—
"Neither can I."
—No helping it, then. In the end we settle whose will prevails by strength alone.—
With that, Jincheon cut the channel.
"Kh…! That insolent bastard…!"
Mills Gaden exploded in rage at the way the man had spoken casually to the emperor and even offered surrender.
"……"
Yet the one who should have been angriest—Galdorn himself—felt only a deep, quiet regret.
Constant casual speech and an arrogant attitude… yet strangely, it doesn't feel unpleasant.
Galdorn was open-hearted by nature, but he was no soft-hearted fool who laughed off a subordinate's insolence.
…No. This is not the time for such thoughts.
Remembering he stood on a battlefield, Galdorn set the regret aside and, together with Mills Gaden, resumed directing the war.