Yes, at long last, the Republic’s people embraced the will to fight and protect. To stand up to keep their families, loved ones, and children safe. And so there were some who chose not to flee.
Even as Reginleifs charged at them like monsters of pure violence and tyranny, they stood in their path, resisting with assault rifles, recoilless guns, and handmade incendiary bottles.
—But so what?
Dustin fired his laser sights at all of them at maximum output. The high-energy beam burned the skin upon direct exposure, making the insurgents flinch away or kneel, allowing the Vargus to close in and apprehend them. And while a few didn’t flinch away despite the burns, Dustin drew on them with Sagittarius’s ten tonnes of weight.
After all, he had no duty to preach about justice and humane virtue anymore. He couldn’t save Citri, he idly looked by as his country became corrupt, and he believed he was doing something while doing nothing at all. He was weak, cowardly, and foolish, so any cruelty and brutality were just another drop in the bucket for him.
And so Dustin was the most merciless of all in this battle. So much so that his two Eighty-Six comrades from the 8th Platoon were trying their hardest to stop him.
“Dustin! Hey, Dustin! You’re going too far!”
“You don’t have to push yourself—just get back! These are your people! Don’t! Get! Carried away!”
But the only voice he couldn’t hear was Anju’s. Which only made sense—he hurt her, so she had nothing to say to him.
“Don’t worry. Our top priority is getting them out of the way, so don’t mind— Whoa.”
His console issued a warning, His optical sensor detected the silhouette of a mass requiring attention. He turned to look. A small group was hidden in the narrow streets of the Federacy city, carrying portable recoilless guns on their shoulders.
Every hair on his body stood on end. Before he knew it, he’d switched on the external speaker.
“—Don’t shoot! It’s dangerous!”
But they fired.
Dustin jumped away, evading the barrage of explosive warheads launched his way. The slow, unguided missiles missed Sagittarius, passing by its legs. But on the other hand, the group that fired the recoilless guns fell over, embroiled in flames.
Recoilless guns offset the intense recoil of a large missile by spewing flames from the back of the launcher. In order to ensure the backfire didn’t rebound and hit the user, these weapons were not to be used in closed environments.
The sight of his countrymen rolling on the ground on fire made all the blood drain from Dustin’s face. And at the same time, he was overcome with intense self-loathing at his inappropriate behavior in the middle of combat. Why did he just warn them? They attacked him, so why didn’t he counterattack? Why didn’t he pull the trigger?
“…Can’t I even shoot to defend myself…?!”
Why am I…so weak…?
✦ ✦ ✦
Dustin was clearly in a state of self-abandonment. Anju could tell, but she couldn’t find the words. Because she was the one trying to keep him in place. She’d cheated, casting a curse on him, turning Dustin’s own pure heart into a weapon against him.
Dustin’s heart was too weak to protect others, too, which was why she’d been able to place that curse on him.
“…Just like a witch.”
She mocked herself. Ironically enough, it was the same as her Personal Name. It was Daiya who’d given her that title, but now it felt like a curse.
Weak people weren’t capable of doing good, and yet they were perfectly capable of inflicting bad. Just like how Anju put that curse on Dustin.
If she could not be good or kind or just, then at the very least—
“Because…I’m a witch.”
Because I am an evil witch. A greedy witch.
—she would hold on to the thing she was grasping, so that it wouldn’t be snatched away.
Her system blared out an alarm. She fixed her heavy machine guns on the approaching shadows as a chubby, amicable-looking middle-aged woman ran over to her.
“Wait, we surrender, so please help us—don’t kill us!”
So the woman shouted as she ran over, but she was hiding an incendiary bottle behind her body. Anju felt worn down and desolate already, her blue eyes chilling to a freezing edge.
Even though they were upheld in name only during the Legion War, the international laws of warfare did determine that civilians must be protected. But only as long as those civilians remained noncombatants—so long as they didn’t carry out attacks against soldiers.
—Congratulations, idiot. You just signed your own death warrant.
Without her realizing it, a thin smile played over her lips. The reticle moved, following her line of sight. With the flick of a finger, she switched to her secondary armament, the heavy machine guns, and prepared to pull the trigger. Someone’s words wafted up in her thoughts before popping like soap bubbles.
—They killed my mom and dad, treating them like trash for target practice.
…Isn’t this…what I’m doing right now? Treating people like trash for target practice? I don’t have to do this, but now that I have the chance, I’m trying to vent, to lash out—by shooting people?
She froze up in that moment. And at the same time, a reprimanding voice filled her ears.
“Cease your fire, Second Lieutenant Emma!”
That order, instilled in her mind through training, made her pull her finger away from the trigger. Just the heavy, resounding steps of the Reginleif were enough to make the woman jolt and flee.
“We didn’t issue any such orders, Second Lieutenant! Don’t act out of line!”
Shouting at her was one of the 1st Armored Division’s intelligence staff officers. With Lena absent, they’d taken over her duties with more staff officers than the other divisions commanding them.
The officer spoke with the stern, loud voice they used for orders and rebukes…but upon spotting Anju’s condition, they suddenly softened their tone. It wasn’t just because she’d stiffened in response to the call, but because she was clearly rattled and trembling.
“…Understood, Second Lieutenant Emma? You didn’t shoot. You did the right thing, and you didn’t shoot.”
Murder scared her. The reality of war did nothing to ease her into the idea of shooting someone, be they enemies, Republic citizens, or anyone else. And the officer said that Anju’s belief—this fear—was right and just.
“You’re a person on the side of kindness. You don’t want to hurt people or sadden those close to you. And that’s the right thing to do. The way you carry yourself is the right way to live. So you were right not to shoot. You did good.”
And yet that was weakness, too. She was too weak to protect others, only capable of doing unsightly things.
“…!”
No. It wasn’t that she was capable of doing evil. Her weakness simply made her get carried away, gravitate to the simpler—and evil—way out. She was weak, and she tried to use that weakness as an excuse—to tell herself she wasn’t capable of doing good.
“…I’m—”
Weak. And a cheat. But if despite that, I’m able to stay on the side of kindness, on the side of the just, then I—