Like the advent of a solar eclipse, darkness had spread. In addition, a large number of unnatural points of light twinkled like the interior of a poorly constructed planetarium. A few, however, were straightforwardly joyful at the sight, which one could express as either eerie or mystical. Even now, all kinds of explosions and rumblings echoed in the distance.
Amid all that, Grickin was walking through a snowy forest.
He was the Russian soldier who had operated the mobile anti-air gun with Hamazura and Digurv to protect the settlement that had been under attack from privateers.
Currently, because Academy City’s forces had garrisoned there, the danger of a Russian follow-up attack had decreased. Thanks to them building temporary housing, the people of the settlement no longer needed to worry about freezing to death in a blizzard, even with most of its original wooden buildings destroyed.
“…”
However, Grickin couldn’t meekly accept the favor.
He’d come from the Russian military. And the air base he belonged to had been attacked by Academy City. Their conduct and the armaments they’d used had been wholly different; those providing emergency supplies to the settlers and those merciless killers seemed clearly to be separate units, one official and one not. Even so, he wasn’t in a state where he could simply trust them.
It was different from anger.
At the core of that resistance, there was fear.
…From the moment I fought the privateers, I no longer had a home in Russia. Maybe I should have just gone to Elizalina while I still had the chance.
That was what Grickin was thinking, but getting away from the settlement wasn’t why he was walking around the snowy forest like this right now. Even if he was going to the Alliance, he felt an obligation to thank the people of the settlement who had saved him.
Then why was he wandering around a place like this at all?
Where the hell did that kid get off to…?
He was lost.
There were children, too, in the settlement. And once they were freed from their state of extreme tension from the privateer attack, they’d started running around to play again—that was how kids were. Maybe they’d gotten even more excited now that the danger to their lives had passed. After all, even the adults in the settlement had started drinking and carousing.
In that time, a girl of about ten had vanished.
The children she’d been playing with said they hadn’t seen where she’d gone, just that she suddenly wasn’t there anymore.
An adult like Grickin would have been somewhat cautious of this unnatural night sky (even if he knew he couldn’t do anything about it). But the girl who had disappeared was just a child. She was at an age where she still believed in Santa Claus. It was even possible she’d wandered out too far while looking up at the sky with some kind of hope.
But the Russian winters were severe. The biting cold, for one thing—and there was a significant possibility of encountering a carnivorous beast woken from its hibernation by the clamor of bombings and artillery fire. To top it off, he’d heard there were land mines seeded throughout this area. This wasn’t an environment you could safely let your child play in.
The girl’s mother had apparently wanted to join the search, but everyone else stopped her. The child’s life was important, but if she succumbed to the chill or the land mines in a second tragedy, that would defeat the purpose. Instead, a small number of people, starting with Grickin, were now looking around here and there in the settlement.
Their group was small, so only Grickin was here right now.
He’d walked about three kilometers from the settlement, but he hadn’t spotted anything even resembling a girl. He wondered if a little kid’s legs could even bring them this far in this amount of snow. It might be possible with a child’s stamina, if they were walking with the intent to die, but if she’d simply been playing, that would reduce her motivation to come all this way; normally, she’d decide to go back to the settlement. So should he go back for now?
As Grickin began to mull it over, he spotted an indistinct figure moving through the blizzard.
But it was large.
“?!”
He rushed to hide behind the trees, thinking he’d accidentally found a bear or something. But that wasn’t it. Wild bears didn’t wear white combat clothing made for soldiers operating in extremely cold regions. He could tell from its design that they were Russian army uniforms, but he’d never put his arms through anything that high-class.
…An unofficial saboteur team?! Wait, isn’t that the unit everyone calls the Eastern Angels of Death?!
It was a team that mainly relied on sniping or bombings to assassinate important targets from other countries and one that had provoked wars between nations that brought disadvantage to Russia. During the Cold War, people whispered about them like an urban legend: All someone in power had to do was write a name on a piece of paper, and they’d immediately come assassinate them.
This may have been wartime, but they weren’t the sort one could run into for no reason. If that team was walking around in those clothes, then they were already dragging tragedy along behind them on chains.
What were they doing here?
And why had they gotten out of their vehicles to advance on foot?
Grickin couldn’t help but think of Digurv and the others in the settlement, which had been targeted so Russia could create a frontline base, and the Academy City people who had garrisoned it.
But if Grickin, who had been on indoor service in the air base here, took on a team of handpicked elite agents, he’d have no chance of winning. He could only see one right now, but if they were in the middle of some military operation, they’d have multiple people on the move, even if this was for unofficial combat.
The best thing to do would be leave here immediately and go back to the settlement.
If those Academy City people did something—and it bothered him to say it—they’d handle this team of saboteurs. These guys didn’t win through massive numbers; they were pros at secret maneuvers with only a few people, causing enemy military forces to fall into chaos. If one only knew where they were and the timing of their attack, one could repel them with numbers.
Grickin took a step away from the tree he was hidden behind.
But he couldn’t take a second.
The figure through the blizzard had suddenly jerked to a stop. Shit, Grickin thought, feeling a pressure from a set of eyes.
Nobody else was around—and that was why Grickin clearly sensed those eyes, staring straight toward him.
“…”
He was at quite a distance, but even so, each read the other’s silence.
A moment later, the agent put his assault rifle stock to his shoulder, then swung the muzzle mercilessly in Grickin’s direction.
“Damn it!!”
Forcing down the terror strangling his heart, Grickin turned his back. The rifle bullet stabbed into the trunk of the tree he’d just been up against. As the gunshot sounded, a piece of tree bark bounced off and grazed his cheek. Without time to reflect on that bit of luck, he simply kept running through the snowy forest.
It didn’t seem like he’d have a chance to win.
Simply fleeing the one soldier coming after him wouldn’t save him.
He called me in, he thought, desperately working his legs, which seemed like they were about to collapse out of fear. I don’t know how many people they have, but if they surround me, I won’t be able to escape!!
The snow under his feet as he ran was flung about by a rifle bullet. He kept running, practically in a stumble, and then actually twisted his foot and fell into the snow. But he didn’t have time to stop. Even now, an enemy aiming for him was following him from behind. The more the distance dropped, the higher the chance that he’d die. But when he forced his snow-covered body up again to start running, he was presented with yet another obstacle.
But not an enemy.
It was the girl who had been lost until now.
She must have come here after hearing the shots ringing out in the snowy forest. For Grickin, that was the worst thing that could have happened. There was no guarantee he’d be able to escape even on his own—if a kid was holding him back, they’d definitely be overtaken.
But that didn’t mean he could leave her here.
The agent hadn’t confirmed Grickin’s identity before discharging his rifle. He was simply getting rid of any witnesses. And it probably didn’t matter if that witness was a civilian or a child.
“Shit!!”
Scooping up the confused child, Grickin tried to run farther. But his feet caught in the deep snow, and his body fell into it, his balance ruined by her unexpectedly heavy weight.
The soldier approached.
Grickin could see, even from this distance, the agent’s finger pressing the trigger.
Until.
✦ ✦ ✦
Baaaang!! A gunshot echoed out through the snowy forest.