A Debt of Steel

It had taken two full weeks for Jincheon and his companions to finish retrofitting the transport and completely repairing the Saisalas.

But when they added the time spent hauling Kader's group this far and the days spent preparing for war, they realized they were only a short wait away from a full month.

Rather than leave half-prepared and risk stumbling into one messy encounter after another, Jincheon and the others decided to simply wait out the remaining days and fire up the warp drive once the month was complete.

Pirates existed elsewhere, of course — but nowhere quite like the waters around the Began System.

So they passed the time under the lavish hospitality of the Jotala pirates, and at last the day arrived: one full month since the warp drive had first been brought online.

"Well then. We'll be on our way. Appreciate the hospitality."

"Shame. I was hoping to hire you again if another war broke out."

"Next time I'd charge you more than I did the first."

On the dock, Jincheon traded a parting handshake with Jotala.

Calsira and Heliane were already sorting provisions and supplies, ready to depart at a moment's notice.

"Don't underestimate that pirate — Krymel."

"I know. If Confedon hadn't gone berserk from his racial trait… no. Even without Confedon's forces, a one-on-one fight against Krymel would have been far uglier."

"You've got talent as a leader."

It was a fairly insolent remark, but Jotala showed no sign of taking offense.

"You're welcome to stay longer, of course…"

"Don't say things you don't mean. Your shoulders jump every time you so much as look at me."

Jincheon snorted at Gebel's wistful follow-up.

"Still — I should thank you."

"Sir?"

"If it hadn't been for you, I would have wiped every living thing in this fortress off the map. And then none of this would have happened."

"Ha… hahaha…"

Gebel managed an awkward laugh and mumbled something noncommittal.

"One last thing before I go. A parting gift."

"A gift…?"

"I hear you still haven't properly cleaned up the battlefield."

"Well… that's true, but…"

The battlefield still held plenty of usable mecha and ship components. But with every mechanic and technician diverted to mecha and vessel repairs — and with the fortress on constant alert against raids by Krymel or other pirates — the recovery work had only just begun.

The problem was the sheer scatter of the wreckage. Recovery was one thing; even basic cleanup was a nightmare.

Jincheon had overheard the pirates grumbling about it, and decided this was how he would repay Jotala's generosity — free repairs on the Saisalas, free ship modifications, free provisions.

"I'm not the type who likes leaving debts unpaid."

Jincheon turned toward the open hangar, spread both hands, and began to gather something invisible — kneading and drawing it in as if working clay only he could see.

A short while later, a subordinate pirate opened a channel to Gebel.

"You? What happened during recovery?"

Gebel unfolded his bio device. The officer in charge of salvage was practically howling, and Gebel answered in a fluster.

"What is it?!"

The officer patched through a live feed from the recovery ship's main camera.

"!!"

"What… the hell is that…?"

Standing close enough to take an interest, Jotala and Gebel both stared at the bio device feed and doubted their own eyes.

Scattered wreckage in every direction was being drawn together by some invisible force, coalescing into a single mass.

"…No. It can't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be…!"

Gebel turned toward Jincheon.

He felt the connection — the motion of Jincheon's hands and the direction the debris was flowing.

Anyone else would have called him insane. But Gebel's instincts were certain: Jincheon was the cause of this.

And once every scrap of wreckage had fused into one enormous lump—

"Hup."

—Jincheon gave a short shout and pulled his arms back. The mass moved with him.

"Tsk. Slower than I thought. Guess I need more force. Hrrrngh."

As if answering the officer's frantic report, Jincheon muttered to himself and put more power into the next shout.

The radar officer's voice cracked into a scream.

"What? Three hours? Sorry, but I don't plan on sticking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around that long."

Jincheon spread both hands, then clamped his right hand over his left wrist.

"J-Jincheon, sir?! What are you doing?!"

"Just wait. It's nothing weird."

The radar officer wailed and begged the object not to come closer. Nearby pirates who could see it for themselves erupted into chaos.

"Hoo. That should do it."

The moment Jincheon lowered his arms, the radar officer — tears and snot still on his face — went blank with shock.

"Any closer and it'd just get in the way of traffic."

Jincheon gave a final wave to the dumbstruck Jotala and Gebel.

"That settles the debt. Take care."

He gave Gebel's shoulder a playful clap and stepped into the transport.

"What took you so long?"

Heliane — whose expressions had grown far richer under Jincheon's relentless advances than her old warrior's mask would ever have allowed — demanded an answer.

"Left them a parting gift. They were practically wetting themselves with joy."

"Pfft. What kind of gift makes someone wet themselves?"

Calsira, settled into the sensor station, took it as a joke and giggled.

"You'll see soon enough."

Jincheon dropped into the pilot's seat.

"All systems checked. Just need the engines."

"Good. Then we launch."

Thanks to Heliane's thorough prep, the engines fired at once. The transport lifted off the dock.

Jincheon swung the nose toward the open hangar, poured on thrust, and climbed above the fortress. Then he routed the rear camera feed to the main monitor.

"That is…"

"How…?"

Heliane and Calsira's mouths fell open.

A metal sphere — composed of mecha and warships — hung near the fortress. The sight was that staggering.

"Took a bit of effort hauling it this far. Debt's paid. Let's go."

They had already decided their warp destination together. Jincheon locked the course and initiated the jump.

Zwoom!

The transport accelerated hard — then vanished without a trace, as if something had swallowed it whole.

Jotala, Gebel, and the guards flanking them could not even react as officers screamed through their bio devices.

They simply stood there, mouths hanging open, staring into empty space like people whose souls had left their bodies.

"Gebel…?"

"Yes… Boss…"

"I've said it before, but… thank you. Truly."

He had thanked Gebel several times already. Never with this much sincerity.

"What the hell is that man? Some kind of god?"

"I don't know either. But of one thing I'm certain."

Gebel gazed at the point where Jincheon's transport had vanished.

"Depending on how that man acts… the history of the universe itself will change."

A desert planet in some star system.

"Fucking piece-of-shit bastards, I'll kill every last one of you, rip your guts out and force-feed them to the next guy over!"

A Qual man — gray-skinned, with a single massive eye set above the bridge of his nose — tore across the sand in a hover humvee, spewing nonstop curses at the cruiser parked on the desert floor.

"Good! They're on my tail — prepare to counter!"

Someone inside the cruiser had contacted the man called Olden. Mecha and heavily armed mercenaries poured out of the ship in a rush.

Moments later, Olden's pursuers came into view.

Desert-type mecha, and dozens of men and women in nano-suits of matching color and insignia.

Among them, a middle-aged Orobece man opened a channel on his bio device.

"If you keep this up, we will have no choice but to respond with force, Mr. Olden."

"We have no desire to fight. The price was already agreed upon. Yet you suddenly demand more than triple, and then attack our brothers…"

"…Hah. Talking is useless."

The middle-aged man had spoken as moderately as he could. The mercenary called Olden only screamed that he would kill them all.

But Olden had brought this on himself from the start.

The middle-aged man's side had made a prior arrangement: deliver the goods they wanted, receive a set fee. The problem was that the job had never gone through a proper guild commission. Olden's people had suddenly tripled the price and backed the demand with pre-positioned mercenaries.

Hoping for a compromise, the middle-aged man's group had brought twice the original completion fee. When Olden still insisted on triple and kept up the threats, they had no choice but to fight back.

"Executor. I must ask for your strength once more."

The middle-aged man turned to a man in a white mask.

"I will lead the charge. Please handle the mecha."

"What? Even for an Executor, that is—"

"Then."

BOOM!

"Ghk—?!"

A violent explosion erupted where the man had stood. A crater-like hole opened in the sand, and he was gone.

KRA-KRA-KRA-KRA-KRA—!

The white mask tore across the desert, sand exploding outward in every direction as he charged the mercenaries.

"He's coming!"

"He's fast!"

"There's only one of him! Concentrated fire!"

Tuka-ka-ka-ka-kang! Pichichik!

The mercenaries poured concentrated fire on the white-masked figure racing toward them at impossible speed. One man on foot — of course the infantry answered with massed small-arms fire.

They should not have.

If they had wanted to live, they should have thrown every weapon they had at him and killed him outright.

Zuuung! Pi-pi-pi-pi-ping!

Still sprinting, the white mask drew a pair of crimson laser swords and began batting aside bullets and laser fire as if his hands had multiplied tenfold.

"Wh-what the hell is that?!"

"Kill that bastard!"

The mercenaries reeled in shock and tried to pour on even more firepower.

But once the white mask closed enough distance, he dropped his upper body low beneath his waist.

KRAAAANG!!

Another massive crater blasted open in the sand — and the white mask reappeared directly in front of the mercenaries still firing from the front line.

Tsuka-ka-kak!

He swept both laser swords outward and split mercenary skulls in half, then drove into their ranks.

Tsukak! Kiiing!

"Gyaaaah!"

"Ghk!"

"Kuhek!"

Every swing of the white mask's laser swords carved mercenaries apart.

"We go as well! Death to the unbelievers!"

"Death to the unbelievers!"

Seeing that, the middle-aged man led his nano-suited subordinates in a charge of their own.

Desert mecha slammed into mercenary mecha. The surrounding sand became a battlefield in seconds.

"K-kill that one first! Kill him!"

As his men died under the white mask's assault, the mercenary captain ordered a mecha pilot to put him down.

The pilot, who had still had room to spare, swung his machine guns onto the white mask and opened fire.

Tuka-ka-ka-ka-kang!

Ear-splitting gunfire — and massive rounds filled every direction the white mask might flee.

In that instant, a teaching from his Master surfaced in the white mask's mind.

Following his Master's teaching, the white mask reinforced his body with Inner Qi and deflected the massive rounds with his laser swords.

Puk-puk-puk-puk-puk!

"Wh-what?!"

The mercenary captain gaped as a human being turned aside a mecha's weapons.

Having blocked and deflected the mecha's assault, the white mask slipped in among the enemy so the pilot could no longer track him cleanly.

Chaka-ka-ka-kak!

"Aaaaagh!"

"A m-monster! It's a monster!"

"How the hell are we supposed to beat that?!"

Mercenaries who had watched the white mask stop a mecha's giant rounds broke and fled in total disarray.

"Hey! Don't run! Hold the line!"

As terror shattered their formation, the mercenary captain shouted too late, trying to stop the collapse.

Kwajajak!

"Aaagh!"

The instant he stepped to the front, the white mask closed in a blur and carved through the power-suited bodyguards with his laser swords.

The mercenaries' power suits were somewhat cheap — but the real difference was that the white mask's laser swords were top-grade pieces worth hundreds of thousands of credits apiece.

"H-hiiik! Wait! I'll give you the goods you wanted—!"

"Too late."

Tsuk.

"Truly magnificent, Executor."

Having driven off the mercenaries and recovered the relic the Order desired, the middle-aged Orobece man pressed all four hands together in gratitude.

"I see now why the rumors call you the strongest Executor in history."

But the white mask only looked at the wounds on his own body and shook his head.

"I still have far to go."

It was not false humility. It was the truth.

If it had been his Master, those things would never have left a scratch.

"Thanks to you, we have recovered the relic. For the return of the Great Ancient One."

"For the return of the Great Ancient One."

The two men joined their hands in prayer and exchanged a solemn greeting.

"Forgive me, but I am exhausted. I need a moment's rest."

"As you will, brother. You have proven your devotion in service to the Ancient One."

The white mask slipped away between the corpses they had made, putting distance between himself and the Order members cleaning up the aftermath.

Sssk—

He removed the white mask.

Beneath it was the face of Belion Kunlo — the first bond Jincheon had formed in this world, and his first disciple.

Belion Kunlo had been recovered by an agent of the Bocondri Holy Kingdom — one of those assigned to watch whether the Zabalcan Empire would uncover Calsorn ruins.

His life had already been cut short once. Through the grace of the Great Ancient One, he had been resurrected.

Returned from death, Kunlo had become an Executor of the Bocondri Holy Kingdom — a fanatic who prayed, with all his heart, for reunion with his Master.

"If Master were to join the Order… the return of the Great Ancient One would become a simple matter."

With Jincheon's help, there would be nothing in this universe left to fear.

If he told him of the miracle that had raised a man already dead once — at the very least, it would catch his interest.

In the original course of fate, Belion Kunlo should have died unnoticed as animal bait.

But because of the existence called Jincheon, Kunlo had been given an entirely different destiny — and through him, the fate of the universe itself had begun to flow in a wholly different direction.