Chapter 2 A Wounded Crimson 1 The first time she sat in an operator’s seat, she felt nervous, despite herself. Unlike the flight seat she was so used to, there was no belt to cinch tight over her body. There was just a heavy responsibility that weighed her down and a chair that was perfectly fine but felt oddly unbalanced to her. Quite a few bad jokes were often repeated in the army, and one of them was that radio operators always got the best chairs in the base. The reason for that was because a pissed-off operator made everything run just a little bit less smoothly. It was common to compare military operations to human biology. If command was the brain, and field officers and troops were the arms and legs, then operators were like the nervous system, sending signals all throughout the body. So if the operator didn’t function properly, the whole body would start to fall apart. “—Ten new pillars confirmed in the northeast sector!” A sharp voice reported the new development as a tremor of unease ran through the command post. They were watching the battle play out on the monitors at the front of the room, where several new red markers had appeared, immediately hammering home the severity of the situation. The blue markers on the monitor were friendlies, and the red were enemies, but— “What about the Rostock-Laage Valkyrie flight?!” “They’re busy supporting another unit’s withdrawal! They can’t come to support!” “Incoming from 212th Panzergrenadier Battalion! It’s 2nd Company! They say they’ll take the new enemies in the north…” “Absolutely not! Infantry can’t do anything against pillars! They’d just be throwing their lives away…” “They say they’ll buy some time and that they’re counting on us to get revenge for them!” “—Gh! Connect them.” As reports continued pouring in from all across the battlefield, the general bitterly nodded at the operator. The battalion was immediately connected, and a voice cut through the storm of static. “This is 2nd Company of the 212th! Can you hear us, command? Like I said, we’ll buy you some time, sir.” “This is command. We hear you—can you do it?” “We’d just be dying pointlessly otherwise. If that’s all we can manage, we could hardly call ourselves panzergrenadiers, sir.” It was a rather disrespectful tone to take with a commanding officer, but the general didn’t take him to task for it. Everyone in the command post was of a similar mind, paying respects to their comrades who were prepared to face death. In a battle where the situation could change dramatically from moment to moment, the most critical thing to have was decisiveness. The general simply did not have many cards left to play against the new enemies that had just appeared, and choosing where and where not to deploy the Valkyries could mean the difference between victory and defeat. And in the sectors that got the short end of the stick, he would have to fill the gap with whatever was available. “It’s already been thirty minutes since the battle commenced… The enemy will no doubt hit its limit soon. There is no way they have even ten minutes left.” “But a lot of people are going to die during those ten minutes. We can’t let that happen, sir.” “…Sorry.” “Save me the apologies. We’re goin’ ’cause we want to. And who wants to hear some old man’s husky voice when he goes? Switch off with one of the operators, sir.” “” Rusalka caught her breath as the soldier on the other end called for an operator. But she swallowed her trepidation in the blink of an eye, taking over the line when the general nodded. “—Understood. I will guide you to the location.” “Oooh, nice. I can tell you’re a cutie from your voice! There’s no foolin’ my ears!” “How can you be so sure? You should confirm it for yourself with your own eyes.” “Ha-ha-ha, good one! All right, we’re countin’ on you for directions!” The infantry company’s position was displayed on the monitor in front of Rusalka as she guided them to their target. She was leading them to a position meant to draw the pillars’ attention and divert some of the enemy’s forces. But that was the same as sending them to their deaths. “—I can hear the hesitation in your voice, pretty lady.” “” “I get it. Anyone would feel shaken. And I’ll bet you haven’t been sitting in that seat for very long—am I right?” She was shocked at how perceptive he was to glean so much from just the way she was breathing. And as if he had picked up even that slight expression of surprise, the man laughed despite the situation he was in. The unreserved mirth of a man willingly marching off to his death filled the line. “Let me give you a little piece of advice. An operator naturally has to have amazing situational awareness and constantly make precise, unfaltering reports. But the most important thing is your voice.” “My voice…” “It’s hard to exaggerate how much the voice of a beauty boosts morale in the field. Plus, if an operator sounds pessimistic, then it makes sense that can spread to everyone listening, right?” “” “No matter what anyone else does, we’re going to be the ones dying here. So at least whisper in our ears like our lovers until the very end. We’ll die for you, so let us dream of coming back alive.” The company approached their red target while he was chatting away. In less than thirty seconds, they would engage the enemy. But the tension and optimism in his voice still did not fade. No, that’s not true. His voice is shaking. He’s actually terrified. What I should say now is— “So let’s hear it. Any kind words for us boys about to leap into battle?” “—I love you.” “” There was a moment of silence. “Gah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” A boisterous guffaw came from the other end just as Rusalka started to worry she had said the wrong thing. But the person on the other end gradually clamped down on the urge to keep laughing and regained that earlier calm. “—I love you, too, Miss Operator.” And with that, a thunderous boom drowned out the voices on the line. “Contact!” The infantry and pillars clashed on the monitor as battle was joined. Peppered by fire from the infantry on the ground, the pillars swerved from their original path, which had threatened to break through the center. The pillars’ bodies glowed as they chased the infantry harassing them. An instant later, a hail of devastating strobes of light rained down. “—Gh.” The glowing projectiles shredded buildings and shattered roads. Her heart shuddered as she heard the echoing roar. The battalion’s plan had worked, but that meant they were in for a hideously cruel battle. On the battlefield, pillars used a threat level when deciding their targets. Valkyries were the top priority, followed by air units and then ground units, making for a list that seemed to prioritize whatever humanity would miss most dearly. Because of that, whenever Valkyries or air assets got into a dangerous position, the standard strategy was to use ground units to divide the enemy’s focus. This was done with the full knowledge that it was far more dangerous for the ground forces. But if humanity didn’t pick their battles like that, they would assuredly have already been ground down by the enemy. They were forced to pick and choose people based purely on numbers and abilities, without any consideration for anything else. War was a factory that mass-produced inhumanity. But then why? Were the people like the infantry company facing the pillars just helpless? They were able to fight on because they had their thoughts, their duty, and their dreams. And yet, she couldn’t even hide a small quiver in her voice for their sakes. “—The pillars have ceased activity! They have exceeded their limit and are undergoing annihilation!” “Finally…!” The commander had been waiting for this moment. The shout came from an operator observing a different monitor. It was a report that the pillars had reached their limits and the battle was over. There was a limited amount of time that pillars could remain active. It was not fully understood, but all the energy they relied on to stay active was shared by a single swarm, and once it ran out, all the pillars on the battlefield would undergo annihilation simultaneously. Because of that, though, combat with the pillars was extraordinarily intense. It also meant that battles tended to be decided in a relatively short amount of time. However, this generally resulted in much more widespread damage, so it was not always true that the shorter the battle the better. The current battle had lasted thirty-seven minutes, and it had been an extremely large-scale engagement. But either way— “The fighting is over…” Word was quickly relayed to the troops in the field. Naturally, even if combat operations had been concluded, they still had to conduct cleanup. Once the shooting stopped, it was time to deal with the fallout. There were many things to do after the battle, from rebuilding to caring for casualties. And more importantly— “The battle is over. Thank you for your valiant efforts.” “” “…Thank you all…” No response came from the gallant commander of the infantry company. There were no blue markers left on the monitor in the vicinity. 2 At present, the European front was where the most intense fighting was occurring. The pillars had first appeared in northern Europe and were steadily continuing their advance, driving humanity out from most of the countries in northern Europe, pushing the front line to the Rostock-Laage region. The pillars had not only appeared in Europe, though. They had manifested in the Americas, central Asia, and Africa as well. The fighting near the Baltic Sea that night was just one more battle in a global war. “—That concludes the damage assessment for tonight’s battle.” A cool, unflappable report echoed as the images on the monitor ran through a presentation. Two hours after the fighting was over, casualty and damage reports had trickled into command from all divisions, and an after-action report was being conducted. The Hamburg base was located right in the middle of the long European front, serving a crucial role in supplying all the other bases in its area of operations. The base was located next to a vast tract of farmland and shared grounds with the city of Hamburg. The battle that night had taken place just a few kilometers outside the city limits, and the aftermath affected the city and base alike. “Impact on the city?” the commander asked. “Fortunately, there was no major damage to the city itself. However, the wall shielding the city was badly damaged and has entirely collapsed in one location. It will likely take several weeks to repair it all, sir.” “It was built to protect the city, so if it did its job, then that’s good enough… Make sure the repairs are carried out ASAP. We can’t allow the draining effect to reach here.” The old base commander’s deep, stern voice rang out as he closed his eyes. There was no response, but it was clear from everyone’s faces that they all agreed. The pillars’ absorption, which stripped the earth of its vitality, was a particularly grave threat for a region that produced so much food. There was a saying that an army marched on its stomach, and it was hardly an exaggeration. An army without supplies would have no morale. That was what made the base in Hamburg irreplaceable. “Any panic in the city?” the commander asked. “The damage was limited to the greatest extent possible, so there is minimal panic among the civilian population. The removal of rubble is continuing apace, but business should resume soon, sir.” “I see… Are there any other urgent reports?” Putting his hand to his forehead, the general looked around the room after his subordinate’s report was finished. No one raised their hand. After pausing a moment, the general exhaled. “Well done, everyone. Brief the next shift and then get some rest. You did well tonight.” And with that, the briefing was completed. As everyone briskly left the room, Rusalka’s shoulders were still stiff when she also gradually made her way to the exit— “—A word, Captain Evereska?” “” The silver-haired woman—Rusalka—halted as a cool voice called out from behind her. The one who had stopped her was a woman who had a sharp, incisive air about her. She was the one who had read out the damage reports from each sector as well as the after-action report during the briefing. She had black hair down to her shoulders and a small beauty mark like a tear at her left eye, and she was in charge of managing the operators during combat. However, her decidedly prickly attitude toward Rusalka left a far deeper impression. Rusalka turned and stood at attention without commenting on her attitude. “What is it, Major Heyman?” “Right before the end of the battle, you were charged with 212th Battalion 2nd Company, were you not?” “” Straightforward and to the point—that was Major Michelle Heyman in a nutshell. Rusalka knew that about her before sitting beside her at the desks in Hamburg. But her voice held a sharper edge than usual. Even though she tried to hold it in, Rusalka’s expression tensed slightly. She was feeling ashamed of herself and sorrowful for the infantry company that had given their lives to hold the enemy back in the last moments, questioning whether there was more she could have done. “They…” “Every operator has their regrets. However, we must not voice them. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you why.” Michelle’s words were merciless, and there was an almost refreshing harshness to them. If an operator allowed overtly negative feelings to seep into their voice, it would hurt the morale of the troops fighting on the other end. It was just like the valiant panzergrenadier had said when he gave her courage in those precious few moments before he engaged the enemy. Right as Rusalka was about to thank Michelle for her concern— “—However, you do not have any right to feel those regrets.” True to form, she hammered Rusalka with a vicious rebuke. They both had the same role as operators, but Michelle’s eyes conveyed her utter disdain for Rusalka, and she made no effort to hide it—it was a scorn that would not go away. “Captain Evereska, you…” Rusalka made no effort to defend herself as Michelle started to continue. For a moment, there was a flare of emotion in her eyes, almost like the frustration she— “—That’s enough, Major Heyman.” But a stern voice interrupted Michelle. It was the general, who was sitting in his chair, monitoring the screens in front of him. He didn’t look at the two of them as he leaned back in his seat. “There were no issues with Captain Evereska’s performance, were there?” “…No, sir.” “Then she should receive the same appreciation for her efforts as everyone else. In addition, let’s see…” Leaving aside Michelle, whose momentum had been stifled, the base commander pondered something for a moment. But his pause was a short one. “What do you say to taking a look around the city for a little bit, Captain?” “Around the city, sir? But with the aftermath of the battle, is this really the…?” “You heard the reports. The city is already starting to come back to life. The residents of the city are far more resilient than you give them credit for, Captain. So how about it?” “…Is that an order, sir?” Rusalka faltered, and even though she knew it was inappropriate, she questioned the general. She couldn’t tell what his thoughts on the matter were, though, because he never turned to look at her. He just heaved a well-worn sigh. “As a matter of fact, it is. Consider it an order, Captain Evereska. Go into the city, confirm the safety of the residents, and prepare a report on the progress of repairs and restoration.” “Yes, sir.” She was reluctant to go but didn’t let it show. For better or worse, the base commander had given her an order. Following a commanding officer’s orders was the most fundamental requirement of a soldier, and Rusalka was a career soldier. She did not want to betray that ideal. “In that case, I will change and be on my way, sir. Pardon me.” Rusalka saluted and then glanced at Michelle. She had been silent since the general’s chiding, but she closed her eyes and saluted Rusalka. Rusalka returned the salute before leaving the room. She encountered the next shift of operators in the hallway. They passed her on either side, and just behind them was a window that looked out at the city. She could see lights here and there around the city. The reports indicated that the city had sustained only limited damage, but she couldn’t tell much from just staring at the distant lights. “Is that why he told me to check it out for myself…?” Naturally, the general’s goal had little to do with the order itself. His true motive was finding out what seeing the aftermath of the battle might inspire in Rusalka, or really just to confirm if she would experience any change at all. “” And Rusalka herself was a ball of fear, too scared to check anything for herself without an order. 3 Rusalka went out into the city after steeling her resolve, only to be surprised by what she found. After clearing the rubble from the roads and confirming the water mains, gas lines, electricity, and all the other infrastructures were in working order, the inhabitants were getting back to their everyday lives, almost as if they were competing with their neighbors. Most of the city was already back to business as usual, and people almost seemed to be in a rush to exalt in the momentary respite of normalcy. Honestly, Rusalka almost felt let down. Of course damage and casualties being minimal was the best outcome, but the city seemed to be doing far better than the minor disaster she had envisioned from the report. Even if it was just them putting on brave faces. Times like this reminded Rusalka of just how resilient humans could really be. Or perhaps it was a testament to how powerful the concept of normal daily life could be. “” She was wearing a coat with the collar turned up. A cold wind blew, causing white fog to form in front of her lips with each exhale. The chill breeze in the late-November air fluttered her silver hair, which glimmered like a full moon. When several people turned to look at her, she averted her eyes, wondering if her hair stood out too much. Following the general’s orders, she had changed her clothes and was now surveying the city by herself. There was still rubble-clearing work being done in various places around town. The repairs to the defensive wall were surely already in progress, and that work was also being overseen by the military, so it felt wrong for her to just be idly wandering the streets. Of course, none of those jobs were her specialty, so the guilt was just her own creation. An effective division of responsibilities was as important at the battalion level as it was at the flight level. Those who fought had a responsibility to fight, and those who could not had their own responsibilities to look after. Rusalka had fulfilled her duty and received a new order, which was why she was currently walking around the city. “I fulfilled my duty, huh.” She could not help scoffing at the thought that crossed her mind. What even was her duty? Officially, she was a tactical adviser, and she served as an operator during battle. In other words, her role was to advise her commanding officer and share information as quickly as possible during battle. Or… “…As a Valkyrie…” …was her true calling to fly in her Deus ex Machina and exchange fire with the pillars of light as a dauntless warrior? “” Closing her eyes, she smothered that last thought. If she could do that, then she wouldn’t be walking around the city alone like she was. She would have died a noble and valiant death in battle long before that. Like six months ago, with the others— “—Rgh.” Her eyes were downcast as she walked until one conspicuous group caught her attention. Beautiful young women strolled side by side down the sidewalk. Other than the fact that they were all extremely beautiful, there was nothing particularly strange about them. But they were all in uniform, and they had white wing patches on their shoulders. “” They were wearing the official uniform for women in the European Army, but unlike Rusalka’s uniform, there was a distinct playfulness in the design. It was at odds with the strict standards and discipline the army ordinarily demanded. But that deviation could be considered a form of consideration for the position the wearers were in, since they were not career soldiers. They had not gone through basic training, and in fact, they were like baby chicks still learning the most fundamental of things. They were third-generation Valkyries. The newest Valkyries to fly on the front lines while carrying the hopes and dreams of humanity. Unlike Rusalka’s second generation, they had been chosen with a strict emphasis on ability. They were humanity’s best and brightest hopes. During the battle hours ago, these women had fought bravely to protect the city. They were lacking in experience and still had quite a bit to learn, but even just managing to make it back with every Valkyrie still alive was praiseworthy. They had truly done well. After all, they had been thrown into the fray much earlier than originally intended. There were some who criticized European Command for rashly sending them in too soon, but their results and reports from the troops who fought alongside them had validated that difficult decision. Without the efforts of the third generation, humanity’s defenses would have quickly crumbled, and the world would have collapsed in the face of the pillar menace. No one could deny that. “” After spotting the figures of the people responsible for the world’s continued existence, Rusalka stopped and looked around. Finding a shop at the corner of the street, she quickly slipped inside. They had likely not had time to notice her due to her quick and decisive action. “How pathetic…” She couldn’t help feeling disappointed in herself for skulking around in the shadows like that. She couldn’t even say whether she had done it to protect herself or simply to avoid bothering them. “Help yourself to a seat at the bar.” “Ah, thank you.” The shopkeeper had not failed to notice her when she entered. She had ducked in only to avoid the women’s gazes, but it would be poor manners to leave immediately. Besides, she had been ordered to confirm the state of the city, and this shop was decidedly a part of that same city. Not wanting to go against her mission, Rusalka sat down at the counter. “Ummm…” Taking off her coat and folding it on her lap, she scanned the bar from the vantage of her seat. The drunk patrons of the pub turned heated gazes on Rusalka as they got a good look at her figure. She didn’t overly mind the gazes themselves, but she was at a loss for what she was supposed to do. It was a large local pub. Nothing too fancy, just the sort of place where a construction worker or some other blue-collar regular might stop for a pint to round out the night. It was naturally the sort of place Rusalka had no experience with. The drinking age in the UK was eighteen, but despite being nineteen, Rusalka had never had any interest in alcohol. Her view was the straightforward and simple stance that alcohol merely inhibited sound judgment. Because of that, she knew little about pubs or pub etiquette. “Do you not know how to drink?” “…Yes, I haven’t really spent much time drinking.” “I can teach you if you’d like? The proper etiquette for a pub and all that.” A large man with a reddened nose turned toward her. His breath stank of alcohol, and his eyes were unfocused. He was unmistakably drunk. Normally, Rusalka would have politely declined, but she had an order to follow tonight. After thinking about it for a second, she nodded. “Then please teach me.” “Oooh, here’s a cutie who gets it. Now that’s something you don’t see every day!” The red-faced man raised a cheer as jeers and banter rained down from the other guests, and the pub grew lively. “Hey, boss, an ale for my friend here. And another for me, too.” Taking the order, the bartender placed two large pint glasses filled with an amber ale on the counter. Rusalka narrowed her eyes when she got a whiff of the alcohol. At that range, she could practically feel the alcohol emanating from the bubbles in the glass. She was about to drink for the first time, and she could feel her pulse growing oddly fast. “Ummm, what should I do?” “The booze is here, and you’re in good company. All that’s left is to just tip back and have at it.” “Sorry, an intuitive explanation like that doesn’t really…” “Huh? No, see, you can’t hesitate when the booze’s right in front of you. Hrm, in that case, let me think.” He pulled his glass close and pondered for a second before coming to a snap answer. He held his glass up and waited for Rusalka to do the same. And then, in a voice that everyone in the room could hear— “—To the dead.” “” That was reason enough to get Rusalka to knock her glass against his before bringing it to her lips. 4 “” There was a stinging pain as the sunlight hit her eyelids, and she slowly woke up. Breathing in, she felt the cool, clear morning air fill her lungs. Waking to the rising sun, she thought she was getting up surprisingly early. What time did I go to bed last night? “—?” As she tried to remember back to last night, she felt something on her cheek. Touching it, she realized it was the traces of tears. She rubbed her cheek. Apparently, she’d been crying in her sleep, presumably because of a dream she’d had. She could think of two possibilities for what kind of dream it may have been, but that question soon faded… “…Where am I?” …only to be replaced by a new one. She was in an unfamiliar place—a cramped, barren, concrete room. Just cold gray walls and a simple pipe-frame bed. There were bars in the small window that let in the sunlight that had woken her up. It was a place intentionally devoid of any warmth. And as if to leave no doubt about that fact, the door had iron bars, too. It was almost like a prison, but an even more appropriate word came to Rusalka’s mind. “—The stockade?” But that realization wasn’t enough to clear her confusion. The stockade was a disciplinary holding area, a place in army camps and bases where soldiers who had broken regulations or violated military law were held. In most cases, detainees were kept there for several days as punishment. Naturally, depending on the severity of the offense, a court-martial might be called as well, so it was no laughing matter by any means. But even so, however she looked at it, she could not make sense of her predicament. “Why am I in the stockade…?” Assuming for the moment it was indeed the base’s stockade, she still could not think of a reason for why she would be held there. She was the type of soldier least likely to have anything to do with the stockade. She considered it natural to uphold the army’s rules and regulations, and she didn’t have any reluctance to following orders. Given that, she would have liked to plead that something must have gone terribly wrong for her to be in there, but— “I can’t remember what happened last night…” Putting her hand to her temple, Rusalka struggled to piece together exactly what had transpired. She tried to work backward, but the sequence of events that would be required for her to be thrown in the stockade was too hard to surmise through guesswork, so she had to scrap that approach. Instead, she started from what she could remember. “After the operation, I went out into the city on the general’s orders. That was when I saw Natalie and the others in the street, so I ducked into a nearby shop. And then…and then?” And then something had happened. If that was where the missing piece was, her memories were unfortunately still dim. As she tried to grasp the thread of her faded memories— “—You don’t remember? You had a big old brawl with about twenty different drunk civilians in the pub.” As she struggled with her memories, another voice chimed in unexpectedly. “—Gh. Who are you?” Rusalka spun around, but there was no one there. Apparently, the voice was coming from the other side of the wall. Walking to the bars and looking out, she could not tell clearly, but she thought she could make out another set of bars next to hers. The room beside hers was surely another cell. “In a word, we’re neighbors. Hope we can get along.” “Apologies, but I struggle to see myself fraternizing with someone who would be thrown into the stockade…” “Big talk from someone who also got thrown into the stockade.” Even though she rejected his outstretched hand, the man still belted out a hearty laugh. His personality was more overly familiar than friendly. Rusalka preferred to maintain a measured distance with new acquaintances, so this first contact didn’t leave a particularly good taste in her mouth. And on top of that, this stranger had been thrown into the stockade for some reason. That was more than enough for her to be on her guard. “The mood got a little tense there. Don’t tell me you’re feeling nervous.” “No. More importantly, who are you? What did you do to deserve the stockade? Fraud?” “You mind if I ask why you suspected fraud first of all things?” “Because you said something earlier that I cannot let pass without comment.” It had been passed over in her initial shock, but the first thing he had said was not something she could just ignore. “From what you said before, it sounded like you believe you know why I am here,” Rusalka began. “I just said it, didn’t I? You beat the crap out of around twenty drunk civilians all at once in town last night.” “There is a flaw in your statement.” “What?” Rusalka calmly boxed the man in, prepared to checkmate him. “I would never start a fight with drunk civilians. And I do not partake in alcohol because it impairs one’s judgment. That is simply the kind of discretion expected from an officer. So your statement must be false.” “No, no, no, no. You definitely did. You were one hundred percent drinking, and you absolutely did start a fight. That’s why you’re here.” “You have already been proven wrong. Checkmate.” “Just listen, will ya?” She had destroyed his argument with irrefutable logic, but he refused to give up. “Are you still clinging to such a preposterous claim that I would actually get into a drunken brawl?” “C’mon now, don’t give me the whole ‘last thing I remember is literally anything but going into a pub’ spiel. I can personally confirm the exact moment you started drinking.” “We have two differing statements, and yet there is only one truth.” “How can you be so confident if you can’t even remember?!” It sounded distinctly like the man was scratching his head in frustration. He appeared to be quite attached to his theory, but Rusalka couldn’t find his claim even remotely plausible. There was a saying that anything one man could imagine, others could make real, but there were limits. Rusalka had practiced hand-to-hand combat as part of her basic training, so it wouldn’t have been impossible for her to deal with drunken amateurs. But even if it was possible, there was still a significant missing piece. “Let us suppose that I did in fact enter a pub, and I will even allow, for the sake of argument, that I did in fact avail myself of alcohol. What then? How would that lead to a large fight? What could possibly…?” She was about to say, What could possibly make me do something so stupid? when— “Valkyries.” —a single word made her stop. “” “The reason you got into a fight was because of an issue involving Valkyries, Captain Evereska.” The man on the other side of the wall used her name. And as she fell silent, he continued: “Or perhaps I should call you the Broken Valkyrie.” He tore into Rusalka’s old scar—though no matter how much time passed, it never fully closed. A searing pain shot through her. “I suppose this is where I say checkmate?” “…That’s rather heartless of you…” “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” There was a wry laugh from the other cell as the mood in the air lightened slightly. That change was what made her realize how much tension had been permeating the air. And also that despite what he said, it had been his consideration for her that had introduced a modicum of calm. Indulging in his thoughtfulness a little, Rusalka sighed heavily and closed her eyes. “You…can call me whatever you like. Whatever it is, I can take it.” “Is that so? Don’t mind if I do then, love.” “I would prefer not to be defamed.” “You mean you consider that defamation? Learn to take a joke…” She did not particularly feel like listening to a lecture on humor from someone who would interrupt a serious conversation to derail it like that. But regardless of how she felt, the man continued: “Anyway, you have a lot of different titles, Rusalka Evereska. The hope of the second generation. The mother of Valkyrie flight-based tactics. And on and on…” “You seem quite knowledgeable about me.” “Anyone who’s been in the army for a few years knows at least that much. You’re pretty famous, as I’m sure you’re aware.” For better or worse, and whether it was fame or infamy, she was very conscious of that fact. Rusalka was well known in the European Army. She had been an ace pilot in her own right, and her Valkyrie flight had achieved prodigious results in battle as well. She had also been instrumental in developing the tactics regularly used on the European front ever since their inception. And she was the Broken Valkyrie, who had abandoned her flight that had mastered her tactics, only to fold up her wings— “And to top it off, I got into a brawl with a bunch of civilians in a pub? I’m sure that will earn me a shameful new title as well.” “Oh, so you’re willing to believe my story now?” “…It’s become more plausible…” She had denied it before, but now she lowered her eyes, accepting that it was likely true. She still couldn’t remember what had happened, but it was entirely believable that she might have gone off in a fit of rage when she heard that word, if her judgment had been impaired by alcohol. And if anything, she had gotten off easy if the stockade was all the punishment she had to look forward to. A fight like that would be an unprecedented scandal for the military. “It would appear I’ve made a fool of myself.” “It was really something, all right. Even if the booze made you fuzzy in the head, your body didn’t miss a single beat. But…” “But?” “If you think it’s embarrassing to vent everything on whoever happens to be around, then I guess that part would be pretty embarrassing.” When he put it that way, there was nothing she could say. And there really wasn’t any other way to put it. She had vented her bitterness at her own lack of virtue on whoever happened to be around her in a drunken fit. She could not imagine a worse thing for her to do. “It looked pretty rough, but if something happened, you could always try talking about it? We’re both locked up here, and I can keep a secret. I can listen awhile if you want?” he offered. “Talk…? With you…?” “Where’d that tone come from? Why so suspicious?” She had not intended on being so obvious about it, but that had been her plain and frank reaction. Either way, they were hardly even acquaintances. In fact, since she still couldn’t remember last night clearly, she had effectively only just met him that morning. He was hardly the sort of person she felt comfortable having a heartfelt conversation with. Something like that was the equivalent of baring her soul. And she had no intention of being so lax as to expose herself like that to someone she barely knew. “Sometimes there are things you can only talk about with people you don’t know that well,” mused Alejandro. “Really?” “How should I know? I just said it. I think there’s probably something to it if you want an outsider’s perspective on something, though.” It was hard to tell whether he really wanted to persuade her. But surprisingly, that vagueness helped ease her wariness. Rusalka furrowed her brow, telling herself not to get caught up in his pace. “If you still can’t accept it, then just pretend I’m a wall that can nod along while you talk to yourself,” was Alejandro’s suggestion. “I don’t believe walls can nod along to anything.” “Use your imagination a little, will ya? Anything one man can imagine, others can make real. That means it could be a thing, right?” “” “Hmm? What is it?” “Nothing…” She was surprised to hear him bring up the same saying she had thought to herself. And at the same time, she could feel the tension in her shoulders fading a tiny bit. She almost felt foolish for being so obstinate. “Anyway, just give it a shot. And if you still aren’t convinced when it’s done, you can wring my neck for revenge.” “Very well.” “That was a little too quick for comfort.” His response felt rather cowardly. It wasn’t as if she had conceded there was a logic to what he said. She most certainly had not. But she did sort of feel like running her mouth a little bit. Perhaps it was even a bit of an extension of her desperation from the night before— “But now that I’m trying to talk, I don’t really know where to begin…” “As long as it’s about you, say whatever you want… Also, sorry if it sounds like I’m coming on to you.” “Can the wall stop talking, please?” “To be clear, walls don’t have necks to wring!” The man sounded a little sullen as the springs on his bed creaked. “If I can make a request, then… Why did you become a pilot?” “” Rusalka paused for a moment at the surprising question. She had been asked why she joined the army and why she had become a Valkyrie countless times. But it was her first time being asked why she had chosen to fly. Because it was so strange and so unexpected, her lips started to move on their own. “—The first time I saw a plane was when I was still a young girl.” 5 Rusalka had joined the army before the pillars first appeared. Born in a rural village in the north of Europe, she had been raised in the warmth of a loving family with her parents and two older brothers. She was aware she had been blessed with a happy upbringing. She had been allowed to do what she wanted and was a little bit spoiled, since she was the youngest child. It wasn’t in her nature to indulge in the privilege of being the youngest, however. Even back then, she had been just as inflexible and serious, just as humorless and unexpressive. Her family never hesitated to tell her as much, but it didn’t change no matter how much time passed. They had lived in a rural-enough setting that the local school had been several hours’ walk each way, and hardly any other children her age had attended. She had abstractly known that cities existed, but the thought of actually seeing one had been like a dream. It had almost felt like cities were some imaginary place the adults whispered about in stories and rumors. Her world changed when she was eleven. On that day, a propeller plane flying in the vast sky up above was forced to make an emergency landing in the wide-open field outside her school. Despite experiencing some kind of mechanical trouble, the pilot managed a splendid landing, and Rusalka’s eyes were stolen away by that bright-red plane. The fuselage was such a vivid red that it almost looked like a blazing fire. It was love at first sight. Almost everyone who lived anywhere remotely close gathered to see if the plane could somehow be repaired. Rusalka watched the pilot working on the plane for days on end. One day, after having seen Rusalka come by so many days in a row, the pilot finally asked her a pointed question: “Do you like planes?” She reflexively nodded, but she immediately regretted it. The subject of the red propeller plane was starting to become taboo in her home. Lately, that had been all she could talk about, and her parents were naturally not thrilled to see their young daughter so excited over a big hunk of metal. She was the youngest child, but on that point, they refused to look the other way. Her brothers were on her side, but they were just children, too, and there was not much they could do for her. In the end, she was forced to bottle up her dream as an aimless impulse ate away at her from the inside. That was why she regretted reflexively nodding. If it had been a leading question, and he was working together with her parents, then that would be the end for her. But while she shivered at the possibility of such an outrageous imaginary conspiracy, the pilot broke into a grin and looked genuinely happy. “—You don’t say! That’s great. I love planes, too.” After that, she would visit the pilot often and listen to his stories. The middle-aged pilot was happy to tell her all sorts of stories. Because of that, she eventually told him she wanted to fly in a plane someday, too. “Ahhh, that’s a great dream.” And he didn’t laugh at her dream. He listened while a little girl living in the middle of nowhere feverishly talked about her dream of flying, and he didn’t laugh at her. On the day he finished his repairs and flew away, the pilot gave Rusalka a gift. It was an old, faded set of dog tags. Thinking back on it, it was hardly the sort of thing anyone should be giving a young girl. But she would never forget how she felt in that moment. She swore to that pilot that someday she would soar through the sky, too. The pilot didn’t say he would be waiting. He didn’t promise to meet her again someday, either. And thinking back on it, he had never even said his name. But she didn’t need any of that. “The sky’s the meeting place, and there’s no such thing as too late or too early—that’s enough for any pilot.” And with that, he grinned and took off. Rusalka watched him go until his plane disappeared way off in the distance. And time passed as she continued to believe that someday, somehow her chance would come— “And now I can’t even fly in that sky anymore.” Rusalka’s breathing was ragged as she muttered weakly. The rash and ignorant girl who had been driven by dreams alone was gone. In her place was Rusalka, who had put untold hours of work into making that dream a reality. She had weathered her family’s objections, left her hometown, and joined the army even though she was a woman. She had been forced to thread a needle to become a pilot despite the odds stacked against her for being a woman, but she devoted herself to her studies and training to earn that right for herself. And she had believed that sometime in the future, she would get her chance to fly through that same sky as the pilot from her youth. But then the pillars of light had appeared, and she had gotten her chance to fly far earlier than expected in a way that she never wished for. “I didn’t get to fly because I was chosen but because there was no one left to fly.” Her promotion to being an active pilot had simply been the consequence of a sudden change in circumstances. Countless valuable pilots had been lost fighting the pillars, making it expedient to rush Rusalka and her class into cockpits after a crash course. And while she was flying like that, Odin appeared, and the First Valkyrie was born. That was around the time Rusalka became a second-generation Valkyrie. “I didn’t have any special talent. I had just been thinking about it longer than everyone else, because I’ve always been thinking about flying, even when I wasn’t allowed to fly. That was why I figured things out a little bit before the others.” She had even been proud of it. She was glad to be recognized. Anyone who had their efforts acknowledged would feel a desire to improve themselves even further. And Rusalka was no exception. She had been proud of what her team had accomplished, of what Xenia, Victorica, and Canan had achieved. And as those days went by, everything changed when she met Amy. “The First Valkyrie, huh.” For the first time, the man said something as Rusalka’s back straightened. He could not see it, of course, but it was something she needed for herself, to give herself a moment of pause. Amy’s smile flashed through her mind, the girl who seemed to always have such a bright golden aura to her. Flying together with her was an important mission any pilot in the world would have considered an honor. And yet, Rusalka hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. In fact, of all things, she had— “The great Valkyrie who even offered up her family name to God…no, to all of humanity.” “Don’t talk about her like that, please. That wasn’t her at all. Amy was just…” She would smile when she was happy, get upset when people teased her. But she would never let anyone see her sad—outside that one moment. “” Rusalka stopped there, unable to say anything more. Amy had come to her room that day, and they had spoken. But she would never tell anyone else what had been said. “You’ll talk about everything in the first half of your life and then just give me total silence? I guess the rest is only for paying subscribers?” “Paying…? No, I have no intention of seeking profit…” “You wouldn’t know a joke if it walked up and kicked you right in the ass. Not that it matters, I guess.” There was a bitter laugh as the man changed tacks. “It looks like we’ll have to continue this story some other time.” Just then, there was a loud screech as the iron door opened. There was a sharp, clicking bootstep as a young man in uniform appeared in front of Rusalka’s door. Judging from the insignia on his arm, he was one of the military police charged with watching the stockade. He stood at attention and addressed her through the bars. “Captain Rusalka Evereska, you are to be released in accordance with regulations. Please step outside, ma’am.” She reflexively stood at attention and saluted. Seeing that, the soldier unlocked the door, granting her freedom. Feeling almost let down, Rusalka stepped out and headed toward the exit. “Cooling your head for the night… No, I guess it’s just sleeping off the booze? It must be nice being a Valkyrie, getting off with only that much.” Annoyance crossed her face as the man’s sharp tongue hit her back on the way out, so she decided to get a look at his face for herself. But— “Would you mind looking this way?” “Unfortunately, I got caught up in a certain someone’s rampage yesterday and am not looking too great. I’d rather not have anyone remembering how I look right now.” “Mrgh…” The man was lying facedown on the hard bed. All she could tell from that angle was that he was tall and that he had dirty-blond hair. Held hostage by guilt over something she still couldn’t remember, she found it impossible to insist he turn around. “So you would have me leave without knowing the face of the person who I told so much about myself?” “I remember your face perfectly. If the chance arises, I’ll be sure to give you a call.” “So you don’t plan on telling me your name, either.” “Isn’t it more romantic this way?” Rusalka sighed. Face aside, it had been a long time since she had exchanged promises to meet again with someone whose name she did not know. And she had never actually managed to meet that pilot again. What was going to come of this promise? “You can trust me to follow through. I’m a guy who keeps his word.” “…I’m not sure that line has the effect you want when you’re refusing to even turn around…” But even so, he insisted on remaining hidden. He simply waved his hand at her as she headed outside. “I’m sorry, but may I ask you something?” After she stepped outside and basked in the cool morning air for a moment, Rusalka turned to the young MP watching over the stockade. He snapped to attention. She was sure he was having a bit of trouble with how exactly he should address her. “What is it, Captain?” “Where should I go now that I’ve been released?” “No orders were passed along to me, ma’am. You may do as you please.” “As I please…” Rusalka couldn’t believe this would all end with just that based on what she knew of what she had presumably done. She had gone into the city on the general’s orders, and in the process of carrying out those orders, she had consumed alcohol while on duty and even started a bar fight. It was honestly bad enough that she was mentally prepared to receive a dishonorable discharge. If nothing else, she had to go apologize in person for her transgressions. “Though going to do that while I still don’t even really remember what I did would probably just make things worse…” At the very least, she could not imagine a proper justification for what she had done the other night. But even if it would be the last thing she did before her discharge, she felt she should properly take responsibility. “Apologies for bothering you. Also, about the man in the cell beside me…” Her tongue froze as she started to ask who he was. The guard looked puzzled as she paused for a moment. “…No, never mind. If you’ll excuse me.” Rusalka shook her head, deciding it would be poor taste to ask. He looked a mess, but he had declared that he would keep his word. She decided that robbing him of the opportunity to follow through wouldn’t be very fair. Besides… “…It’s just a little bit, but…” …she really did feel a tiny bit lighter after talking some. Grateful for that, her feet felt a little bit lighter, too. 6 Rusalka had secured a seat in the corner of the mess hall for lunch. “Is it true you got drunk and started a fight, Rusalka?” “” And the girl sitting next to her did not mince words at all. Glancing over, she saw a refined but unexpressive face. The short girl had olive skin, light-purple eyes, and long black hair. She had on a uniform, but it was hard to shake the feeling that the uniform was wearing her more so than the other way around. She looked like a student trying hard to appear older than she was, and in truth, she was still school-age. If Rusalka recalled correctly, she was just sixteen. But she looked even younger than that, which made it feel even less like she had any business wearing a soldier’s uniform. “Did you hear me?” “…Yes, I heard you, Alma Conturo.” “Just Alma is fine.” The young girl looked up at Rusalka. There was no trace of emotion on her face, which was something they had in common. Another similarity was the way they both were eating lunch in a corner of the mess hall away from anyone else. “Of course, I’m alone due to a breakdown in relations. Surely you don’t have a need to do the same?” Rusalka openly asked. “Did you want to eat dolo?” “I’m not sure what that means. I can’t help but feel it an extraordinarily painful description of my situation.” Rusalka wondered whether it was just her interpretation as she started to eat. Following her lead, Alma started to nibble away at her food as well. The people nearby made no effort to interact with them. It wasn’t as if the mess hall was deserted. The other soldiers were simply avoiding them. Or more specifically, avoiding Rusalka. She had thought she was used to people tiptoeing around her, but the feeling had escalated in an unexpected way after last night, making her belatedly realize she still had some sense of herself as a normal person. Though even that seemed almost like an observation from afar. Her status at Hamburg base had always been complicated. She was a Valkyrie unable to fly, not because of any physical issue but because of an emotional problem. That was the reason why she was called the Broken Valkyrie and why most people had such a low opinion of her. For better or worse, she was difficult for the people on the base to deal with. And on top of all that, she had gotten into a drunk bar fight with civilians. Not only was it a bizarre action, given her usual behavior, but it was also unprecedented for a Valkyrie to be thrown into the stockade for something like that. It was only natural for the people around her to distance themselves even more. “I understand it is completely my own fault, but…” Rusalka thought back on her actions as she took stock of the discomfort and agitation pointed toward her from all directions. She had thought it a lonely scene when she had seen Amy by herself in the mess hall in the past, but experiencing it for herself, the emptiness eating away at her heart was far worse than she had imagined. Which only made her regret how she had treated Amy at the time even more— “So what was it?” All of a sudden, Alma’s voice interrupted her moment of reflection and her meal. Rusalka finished swallowing a bite of cheese and penne as she cocked her head. “What was what?” “Dementia?” “You don’t have a filter, do you…?” She furrowed her brow at Alma’s innocent question before massaging her forehead. She was struck by the thought that it had been a while since she had worried about wrinkles on her forehead. She was sure her current sentimentality had something to do with all the talking she had done in the stockade that morning. “By all accounts, I did indeed get myself in a pub brawl with civilians. I don’t recall it happening, though.” “Because you took concentrated damage to the head?” “Or due to the effects of alcohol. Unfortunately, either might very well explain the symptoms.” “…That’s surprising.” Alma touched her napkin to her lips while Rusalka was forced to agree with her frank assessment. Both the fact that she had consumed alcohol and that she had become drunk were things she would never have imagined. And then to get into a fight in the pub to top it off… She could only imagine she had been bewitched somehow. Still, the evidence all pointed to the truth of the situation. “So it would be better for you not to be seen with me. Not unless you want others to start spreading wild rumors regarding your association with me.” “What, like the two of us going out to play around with men every night or something?” “In a word, yes.” Alma snorted. It was a weak, disinterested response, but that was just how Alma was sometimes. She often held to positions that got her labeled a maverick or eccentric. Victorica and Canan both had tended to flout regulations a little bit, but they’d still been career soldiers, and that core identity had never wavered. But Alma was different in that regard because she was a third-generation Valkyrie. Unlike the second generation, who were chosen from among the ranks for having even the minimal level of compatibility, the third generation were elites handpicked from all around the world for their potential. They were different from Rusalka’s generation, who had been soldiers before becoming Valkyries. This generation had been made Valkyries first and foremost. It could be considered one aspect of a Valkyrie’s divine blessing that from the moment they awakened as a Valkyrie, they were capable of naturally operating the Deus ex Machina they were granted by Odin. Just as there was no bird born without knowing how to use its own wings, the Valkyries instinctively knew how to control their own wings as well. That was also why Xenia and Canan had been able to fly so comfortably with Rusalka and Victorica despite coming from different branches of the army. Of course, there was variation in skill, born of each individual’s unique experiences and senses, but even that was made up for to some extent by the Valkyrie’s natural compatibility with her machine. Because of that, the third generation’s military experience was extraordinarily limited. They had undergone the most basic of crash courses and been told to learn the rest in the field. That was proof of just how bad the war was going and could even be considered a truly foolhardy decision by military leaders. That being said, just like the shameful but resolute decision the world leaders had made to believe the self-proclaimed god who had suddenly appeared, that reckless choice had led to a miraculous result, allowing the army to hold the line. The main force currently holding the European front together was the third generation of Valkyries. Because of that, the third generation tended to have a strong sense of pride and strongly identified as Valkyries. Consequently, they generally took a poor view of Rusalka, who was infamous for abandoning her role as a Valkyrie, which meant the way Alma interacted with her normally could almost be called heretical. “” Alma apparently didn’t concern herself overly much with all that, though, as she sat beside Rusalka, her cheeks near bursting with food as she focused on her lunch. Her stance toward Rusalka had been the same ever since she was deployed to Hamburg base. She did not always spend time with Rusalka, but if their schedules happened to overlap, she would sit with her during meals. And Rusalka understood that even that tiny connection had been an enormous help to her. That was probably why she had not insisted on trying to distance herself from Alma. But that mutual understanding was only shared by Alma and Rusalka— “—You seem quite at ease given what happened last night.” Naturally, not everyone was so understanding. “” A sharp, clear voice thundered out. It was a fierce tone that drowned out the noise of the mess hall and forced those who heard it to listen. The owner of that voice was brimming with drive, to the point she almost seemed the embodiment of a bolt of lightning. Her bright-red hair was neatly tied back, and her prim expression conveyed a natural-born refinement. Her eyes flared angrily as she put her hand on the table and glared at Rusalka. Looking back into her amber eyes, Rusalka set down her fork. “Were you having lunch as well, Natalie Chase?” “Why, yes, I was. However, having seen you, I couldn’t simply sit still. Just what were you thinking last night?” Her sharp gaze shot straight through Rusalka, trying to probe the depths of her heart. She was another of the third-generation Valkyries at the base. In addition to being the flight leader of the base’s Valkyries, she boasted overwhelming talent for being a Valkyrie and demonstrated an excellence as a pilot that marked her as a promising prospect in the future once she had time to grow into her role some more. She was the model third-generation Valkyrie. She had chosen to become a Valkyrie for the sake of humanity and had a powerful sense of pride and duty. And also— “For a proud and noble Valkyrie to be thrown into the stockade of all things… It’s inexcusable.” —she was one of the people who made no effort to hide the animosity she felt toward Rusalka. “” The way she made no effort to hide how she felt about Rusalka was refreshing. Not because open animosity was easier to endure than just having everyone avoid her, nor was it a masochistic desire to have someone blame her for what she did. If she had to describe it, it was because she felt that the way Natalie behaved was more agreeable than her own demeanor. The way Natalie was so comfortable loudly declaring something was wrong if she thought it was wrong. Rusalka sensed she was probably jealous of that confidence. “Are you listening to me?” Natalie’s eyes narrowed in annoyance as Rusalka remained silent. Snapping back to reality at that verbal prodding, Rusalka shook her head. “Pardon me. You came over so suddenly that I was surprised.”
Chapter 6
53 min read