The platoons and squadrons—and in some rare cases, even individuals—who’d drifted away from combat in between the retreat and the Morpho bombardments made their gradual return to Rüstkammer base over the course of three days.
There wasn’t a spare moment to put them back in their original units or platoons. After some time to rest, they were organized into impromptu squadrons and sent to whatever spots didn’t have enough hands on deck. Frederica, who’d returned to the command post, started by confirming the safety of missing soldiers whose faces she knew, but soon, she had to be sent to help grasp the situation across the front line.
Yes, Ernst was safe. Despite how important an issue the attack was for the Federacy, no one really paid it any mind right now, because everyone was too busy and tense.
The Reginleif research team members were added to the maintenance crew in the hangar. The infantry and armored infantry who fled to this base were immediately sent out to reinforce the defensive line, and the facility staff members and drivers also joined in. Despite being soldiers, the inventory staff helped unload the injured.
The Eighty-Six told one another stories of how the priest came out of retirement with a rifle in hand, shooting until he ran out of ammo only to eventually pick up a rock and use it to finish off a self-propelled mine. The fact that they could joke even at a time like this was evidence of how combat-hardened they were.
“…But, Captain, if you piece all the stories together, the only way they make sense is if there’s five priests running around.” Bernholdt shuddered at the mental image.
Everyone present laughed. All of them were out of ammo and out of fuel, and they were hiding in a natural basin, hugging their assault rifles. With shell fragments and bullets whizzing over the surface, they couldn’t stand up. Fido returned, loaded with ammo, fuel, and also heated-up combat ration packs, graciously placed there courtesy of the supply team. There was no time for meals during combat, so even if the combat rations went a little cold, it was better than having them unheated.
One Processor boy from another armored division, whose name Shin didn’t know, opened a packet and downed its contents. His face was emaciated and exhausted, since he’d only gotten a few winks of sleep in between maintenance and supply, and he had to keep up his energy with these rations, which didn’t qualify as meals.
“I wish we had five of him. It’d be nice if he split up and we’d have more of him.”
“He won’t, and it wouldn’t.” Mika shook her head.
“If he could do that, he’d be a bigger threat than the Legion,” Raiden added.
Both had weird half smiles on their faces, probably out of fatigue. Still, they were smiling. They joked around and had the energy to laugh.
We can still fight.
Shin finished his modest excuse for a meal just as Fido finished supplying the Reginleifs. He picked up his assault rifle and, while still crouched, somehow managed to slide into Undertaker’s cockpit. New orders came in from Lena. Meaning—
“I guess we can go and see if the priest really split in the fight. Looking forward to it.”
Checking the situation in each position and moving in to help where necessary. This was Shin’s implicit order, and someone—once again, an unfamiliar voice—cackled.
“Roger that. Let’s say we’re heading out to help our splitting, dividing priest, Reaper Captain.”
“He doesn’t need our help; the Legion aren’t enough to take the priest down. The part about him throwing rocks wasn’t made-up, if you ask me.”
A self-propelled mine probably wouldn’t expect to be beaten by something as primitive as a rock. Hearing Shin speak in a pitiful and completely serious voice, everyone else solemnly crossed themselves and brought their hands together in prayer.
And then someone connected to the Para-RAID. The stern voice of their Queen once again reached the battlefield.
“Handler One to all Spearhead detachment units!”
In the midst of the storm of bullets, Shin and the others exchanged looks with a smile. No more confirming the situation. Now they were given the honor of fighting under Her Majesty’s orders once more.
✦ ✦ ✦
After the military physician ardently refused to prescribe him any more drugs, and his subordinates and the maintenance crew worked together to basically pull him out of his unit, Gilwiese had no choice but to nap.
The situation was reaching a point where he, as regiment commander, had to let his deputy take command for a while so he could rest. This was because they’d recovered the fleeing infantrymen at the Harutari reserve position; as a result, the armored units were given more freedom to act, and the combat engineers and transport units were able to secure open routes, allowing support and supplies to flow properly and the troops to launch counterattacks.
However, the routed soldiers wandered about in places where they didn’t belong, and their confused state meant they didn’t contribute much to the army.
If we could just get them to fight, the armored units—we descendants of armored knights—wouldn’t be overtaken by these lumps of scrap metal.
The state of the battle was gradually starting to swing in their favor. Once he got some sleep, he’d set out to push the enemy back.
Just you watch, Gilwiese thought firmly before fatigue finally pulled his mind into the quagmire of slumber.
✦ ✦ ✦
“—Get out of the way, you hulking oaf! An oversize dragon like you won’t stand in the way of House Nouzen’s Wild Hunt!”
Still, Dinosauria were the Legion’s trump cards, and they were an opponent that challenged even the Crazy Bones Division—certainly not the kind of unit Yatrai could get away with calling a “hulking oaf,” and yet.
Probably deeming that the time was right to flee, the Legion’s heavy armored units were finally beaten by the Crazy Bones Division. With bloodthirsty laughter and howls, the division pursued the retreating enemies while being conscious enough to avoid straying too far.
They maintained an offensive formation, facing the enemy force, which advanced in a wedge formation, and tearing into them head-on. Having the Harutari formation at their back afforded them freedom of movement. There was no fear of them charging too deep into enemy lines, only for their allies to fall apart, isolating them.
The Azhi Dahāka had very poor fuel efficiency, so getting isolated behind enemy lines was especially fatal for it. Unless its allies’ defensive lines were stalwart, even this man-eating black dragon couldn’t fly freely across the battlefield.
Yes, unlike the fragile, broken Saentis-Historics line, the Harutari reserve formation was stalwart now. And this was because the routed soldiers who came here had cattle guards with guns fixed on them, giving them no choice but to fight. When it was their own lives and the lives of others hanging in the balance, even those cowards fought like hell.
They resisted the metallic surge with all the desperate scurrying of panicked rats, supported by the experience and foolhardiness of old and female wolves. It was brittle resistance, but effective for the time being.
…How things would go on was a question Yatrai didn’t think about and honestly didn’t care to know in that moment in time.
“Lord Yatrai, you’re letting your emotions show.”
“No one’s listening except you, Vice Captain… But I know. I’m just tired, is all.”
Nouzen blood blessed him with robust stamina that most people couldn’t match, but piloting an Azhi Dahāka, with its intense mobility, in such prolonged defensive combat without pause took its toll even on him. As Yatrai sweated from the heat of the cockpit and the excessive amount of adrenaline pumping through his brain, his vice captain seemed to smirk.
“You always were too tall for your own good. There’s a hot shower and cold ale waiting for you when this is all over, so just bear with it a little longer. Or would you rather have me as a way of relaxing yourself?”
“Hey, cut that out,” he replied tiredly.
She’d fought alongside him for as long as he did, so there was no telling how fatigued she was. Or how tired he was, for that matter. Despite that, the maiden, as fair and much more vicious than any courtesan of legend, laughed at Yatrai’s dull reaction, her voice too lovely for the battlefield.