If we fight, can we win? …No.
Shibano ran a simulation in his head. He imagined the moment his deployed units launched an opening barrage—and then in the very next breath, those enemies that had survived the volley returning fire. With a single counterattack from the enemy’s medium-class monsters, the majority of his gunners and artillerymen would be wiped out.
The mechs that the gunners used lacked both armor and mobility. They were built for one thing and one thing only: offense.
Even then, they didn’t have the kind of firepower that could take down a medium-class monster in a single hit. It took several well-placed shots to defeat just one.
This meant that even in a normal battle, any monsters that survived the opening salvo often managed to counterattack, blasting the gunners to oblivion before they could reload.
That was why the Second Division always fielded more gunners than the enemy had monsters, spreading them out in a wide formation and ordering them to fire all at once. The goal was to kill the enemy before they could shoot back. Failing that, they at least tried to scatter the return fire so no one point took the brunt of it.
Today, though, they were outnumbered.
There was no way they could avoid a counterattack.
This isn’t going to be a proper barrage…
Every sniper and artilleryman knew that when you had cover—either natural or armored—you could line up your shot calmly and safely. Out in the open, naked to enemy fire, your accuracy plummeted.
The same went for gunners in fire-support mechs, too.
Even under halfway decent conditions, these units are known for their firepower and poor accuracy. And now I’m supposed to believe they’ll perform well in a situation where they’re bound to get hit back? That’s just wishful thinking.
Shibano trusted his subordinates, as a commander should, but he wasn’t the type to rely on blind faith. He knew the difference between grit and delusion, which was also why he knew that if they engaged now, they would be pointlessly slaughtered.
He wasn’t alone. The mech pilots and gunners who’d scouted the field, as well as the tank crews and infantry who had followed them, all understood the same thing.
If we can’t win, we have to retreat.
His rational side accepted that.
But knowing it and actually doing it were two very different things.
Retreat, sure. But retreat without firing a single shot?
Shibano wasn’t worried about being dragged before a court-martial for desertion. His superiors in the Second Division understood that sometimes, withdrawing to regroup was the smartest move. Strategy over pride.
What he was concerned about was getting everyone out alive.
“Of all strategies, the best is to flee,” Sun Tzu writes in The Art of War. But retreat was one of the hardest maneuvers in warfare—especially when the enemy already had their sights set on you.
Monsters usually have good eyesight. If we can see them, they can damn well see us.
Wishful thinking had no place here. His rational mind kept screaming that.
Turn the formation around and retreat? They’d start shooting before we even moved. Maintain formation under fire? Impossible—the line would break. And if the small monsters charge while we’re in disarray, it’ll be all over. I want to get the mechs and pilots out safely, at least, but at this rate…
When you hear monsters described as “small class,” you might think they were just cannon fodder—but that wasn’t the case. Even the smaller beasts were still between one to three meters tall. True, they weren’t deadly going up against a trained pilot in a mech one-on-one, and even regular weapons could take them down. The tanks could handle them, too, with some losses.
But that was if you were fighting them with equal numbers. Maybe even one against three.
If five hundred of them swarmed you all at once, not even a veteran pilot would last long. And mechs, being as large and conspicuous as they were, made for prime targets. It was crazy to think you could outrun them without taking damage.
…We need a rear guard.
After his many calculations, Shibano came to a harsh conclusion: They had to retreat. And to do that, they would need a suicide squad to hold the line.
The only ones suitable for that job were the tank and infantry units armed with conventional weapons. However, he wasn’t about to order them to their deaths while he fled to safety. He would stay behind and lead them himself.
Regular weapons can’t penetrate the mana fields of medium- and large-class monsters, so we won’t be able to take them down. But if we can manage to kill enough of the small ones, we should be able to keep casualties to a minimum. We need to call for reinforcements from the other divisions now—the Sixth and Eighth are already on standby to support us. If they prep while we hold the line, we should be able to push them back. But it all depends on how long I can stall the enemy…
That was Colonel Yuhei Shibano. If charging into enemy lines wearing nothing but his underwear stuffed with dynamite could buy his allies five more minutes, then that was what he would do.
“All right. Put me through to the entire army.”
Die with me. For our country’s future.
He was about to send his already demoralized troops straight into hell.
He didn’t want to kill them. He didn’t want them to die. But they had to. He accepted that.
Just as he opened his mouth to issue the order—
“This is Special Ensign Kawakami of Task Unit 2099. Commencing operation on schedule.”
“…What?”