War of the Stars (2)
By the time we reached the Second Defense Line, the sun hung high overhead. Well—I was only guessing. You couldn't actually see it.
Clouds and powder smoke had turned the sky into a dull smear; the sun itself was nowhere to be found.
No… have I even seen the sun once since I arrived at the front?
In any case, the Second Defense Line was still unfinished trenches and hastily stacked sandbags. Originally it would have been a reserve staging area, but the First Defense Line had been shoved back wholesale by that bizarre fortress, so this was the new front now.
Retreating soldiers poured into the trenches while military police shouted themselves hoarse directing units to their assembly points. Clerks clutched sodden rosters, checking names of the living and sending the wounded to the field aid station.
Oh, and for reference: if you can walk, it's light. If you can't, it's serious. If you're not breathing… well, you know.
My leg was injured, so I headed for the serious-wounded collection point. The surgeon prodded the limb this way and that, strapped on a fresh splint, and sent me straight back to Sergeant Müller.
"You all right?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm moving further rear. The inspection team and division admin will relocate to the reserve command post."
"…I see."
"About eight kilometers from here."
Far. Too far. The thought that I might never see him again left me strangely depressed.
Müller turned his gaze to Misty.
"Sergeant Misty."
"Sir."
"Do not commit Corporal Winterland to combat for the time being. Only after re-examination by a medical officer."
"Understood."
"Magic use is also forbidden."
"Understood. I'll keep her under strict control."
Why were those two talking about me as if I weren't standing right here? It's my body! So unfair!
Once the conversation ended, Sergeant Müller looked at me once more. His eyes traveled from my face to my throat, then down to my feet—the mana inhaler, the bandaged hand, the still-swollen right leg and its splint. His gaze lingered a little too long on the wood.
Ah. Perfect.
Shame about the blank expression, but that only made it better. He wore that mask so carefully, yet he still couldn't manage his eyes—reeked of amateur.
He was probably fretting inside: Will she be able to walk? Will there be lasting damage?
I did not smile with satisfaction on the outside. I was no amateur, so of course I kept every feeling locked away. Quietly, all alone, I laughed.
"…Sergeant."
"What is it?"
"Are you all right?"
My question made Sergeant Müller flinch. His eyes snapped up from the splint to my face.
"What do you mean?"
"I was worried you might have been hurt…"
"I wasn't."
"I see."
"I'll come back when I have time."
A businesslike answer, yet it left me reasonably content.
The man had looked at the girl with worry—and the girl had looked at the man with worry in return! The man, realizing this, let a flicker of fluster show; the girl did not miss it.
Yes. Exactly this.
Sergeant Müller stared at me a long while, then pressed his lips tight and climbed into a transport headed rear. I watched until the vehicle vanished beyond the mud track—repayment for the look he had given me.
"Is he far enough that you can't see him anymore?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll talk now."
Sergeant Misty approached with a face set hard as stone.
Ah. Right. I'd forgotten.
"Corporal Chloe Winterland. Why did you use D Magic without authorization?"
"I judged it necessary to confirm the mobile fortress's condition and any survivors inside."
"Who made that judgment?"
"I did…"
"Who is the field observer?"
"Sergeant Misty."
"Who holds authority to permit magic use?"
"Sergeant Misty."
"Who is the patient with a contaminated magic circuit?"
"…I am."
Hah.
Sergeant Misty sighed and continued.
"Why is a corporal making judgments?"
"…I'm sorry."
"Is 'sorry' the end of it?"
"No, ma'am."
"If we let this slide, you'll do the exact same thing next time. Won't you?"
She was right, but I couldn't admit it. I had no desire to drag out the scolding. In this situation the smart move was to keep my mouth shut, bow my head, and lean on the fact that I was a child.
Put on a pitiful face. Make the other person feel sorry for you.
Sergeant Misty, for all that she was a soldier, was needlessly kind to children—like some actual spirit.
Anyway, her lecture stretched on for a long time after that. Magic use forbidden. Return to combat forbidden. Leaving the aid station forbidden. Inhaler use only under her direct supervision. Restriction after restriction, ban after ban.
What a nuisance.
How do I shake her off?
Deliberately killing an ally carries too much risk. Get caught and the minimum is a firing squad. What natural way is there to part company with Sergeant Misty…?
No answer came, no matter how I turned it over.
The sermon finally ended only after noon, because a new commotion broke out.
Soldiers murmured and cleared a path. Someone was trudging toward us from the direction of the old First Defense Line.
Major Ernst Krüger.
One lens of his gas mask was cracked; his heavy coat was soaked through with mud and powder. Sleeves and gloves were black with soot. Even his gait looked drained of strength—in short, he looked like he'd been thoroughly thrashed.
"Hah… magnificent. Truly magnificent. To prepare a reply like that overnight. The Construction Star really is a courteous fellow."
A madman's way of thinking is impossible to follow.
Ugh, creepy. Maybe I should keep my distance?
He was walking right past Misty and me.
Wait.
I hesitated only a moment. What happens if a corporal stops a defeated Star—a major, no less?
There was only one reason I was even considering it. Back when Sergeant Müller had carried me, I had decided I would ask how to become a Star. This felt like the perfect chance to act on that plan.
If I let him go now, Major Krüger might be sent to some other front. Stars are precious assets. You can't pin one to a single line for months; they have to keep moving to plug gaps elsewhere.
Being rude in order to survive is no sin. Army life might get a little awkward, but if it meant becoming a Star…
"Major Krüger."
"…Hm?"
"If it isn't too much trouble, may I ask one question?"
Sergeant Misty clamped down hard on my arm—shut up. I ignored her.
"Wahahat! Fine! Ask away!"
"What must one do to become a Star?"
The soldiers who had been glaring daggers at me clamped their mouths shut the instant they heard the question. They were curious too, weren't they?
Still, this man was wearing a gas mask; I couldn't read his face. Extremely inconvenient.
"You want to become a Star?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to die."
Silence stretched. Gulp. I swallowed, tense.
Long silence is never a good sign.
Then he laughed, loud and huge.
"Wahahat! Magnificent! Not honor, not the Empire, not duty—survival! That's your reason! What a refreshingly honest answer!"
"……"
"I like it. I'll teach you."
The major scanned the soldiers around us. Even Sergeant Misty had been cowed by his presence and waited for his next words.
The first thing Major Krüger said was—
"First. Use magic."
"…Sir?"
"Keep using it. Exhaust your mana. Refill it, exhaust it again, and while you repeat that, observe the mana organ below your diaphragm."
"……"
"The mana organ is the network of vessels that sense mana. The reservoir and every branching stem that spreads through the body like blood vessels—all of it is the mana organ."
He pointed a finger at the area beneath my chest and around my stomach.
"Learn how your mana empties and how it fills. Memorize every sensation."
"How many times must I repeat it?"
"I don't know either! It's different for everyone. A hundred times? Ten thousand? Anyway, most people die in the process!"
Die? Hmm. That was less than ideal.
I considered another approach.
"Then if I used mana stones or powder to cycle depletion and recharge faster…"
"Don't."
"Sir?"
"That destroys the organ. Yours has already exceeded its limit once."
"How did you…"
"How did I know? You're not the only one who uses D Magic."
He spoke with sudden seriousness, all laughter gone from his voice. Hearing the usual maniac turn earnest like that was oddly frightening.
"Anyway, I'll teach you the next step. Second. Record your dreams."
"Dreams?"
"Yes. When you sleep, the walls of reason thin. You'll see what your mana has been hiding from you."
"What should I record?"
"Everything."
…Everything?
As if reading my thoughts, Major Krüger immediately gave examples.
"Places, colors, smells, people, sounds, objects that keep appearing, things that frighten you, things you desire. Keep a diary if you like, or simply memorize it all."
A diary. I happened to have one. I never imagined I'd be using it for this…
Hah… I really should have used it only for that purpose.
Sniff.
I'm sad.
I immediately asked about the next stage.
"And after that…"
"Build a landscape. A landscape that belongs only to you, where no one can interfere or enter. That is called a mindscape."
"……"
"Once it's complete, pull it out into the open."
"How, exactly?"
"With magic."
"Sir?"
"The method is different for everyone. I don't know yours either!"
Don't say "I don't know" so proudly! You got my hopes up for nothing!
"From the second stage onward it's a matter of talent. The moment you let someone else explain it, you drift farther from becoming a Star. Your mindscape is yours alone."
"I see."
"Finally, when you overlay the landscape inside you onto reality, unique magic is born."
"……"
"Once it's born, you know everything—how to use it, its range, its nature, its limits—without anyone teaching you. It simply settles into your head, as natural as knowing how to move your own arm."
I memorized every word and extracted the core.
Record dreams, construct a mindscape, draw it outward. That is how magic is made.
Well, it had a decent fantasy flavor. I liked it.
"Thank you."
"White sniper. I believe you have potential."
"…Sir?"
"There was someone like you once. A fellow called the Silver Star."
"……"
"Same aptitude as yours. Only D Magic at rank three; everything else rank one."
"I see."
"That woman succeeded and became a Star. You're promising too—if you keep at it for about ten years, you might reach the threshold."
Ten years. Ten years was far too late. Even if I was promising, did it really take that long…?
Major Krüger turned his back and headed for a truck. Over his shoulder he added one last remark.
"For reference—after you create the magic, you'll hear a voice."
"A voice?"
"A woman's voice, speaking in a language you've never learned."
"……"
"I believe that woman is a goddess."
"A goddess…?"
"Everyone who becomes a Star hears that voice, and receives a name from her."
He trudged on, dragging his tattered coat, all the way to the truck. Even as he receded, his laughter carried back to us.
That evening I fell asleep with my diary open, and—by pure luck—I dreamed at once.
The landscape that unfolded… reflected my twisted heart with perfect accuracy.
