#Shuumatsu Nani Shitemasu ka Isogashii Desu ka Sukutte Moratte Ii Desu ka | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orlandri-tl · 6 years ago

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[Sukamoka Vol. 1] Chapter 3 Part 1: Disposable Weapons

It was the Utica, a tactical airship boasting the greatest energy output and loading capacity of all the ships owned by the Winged Guard.

Before now it had never been in actual combat, in large part due to its invisible costs. Not only did it reputedly have an overly large heavy-cyclical enchanted furnace that, by itself, was insufficiently powerful to feed the ship’s outrageous fuel consumption, it also had no less than four pairs of auxiliary wings built at – of all places – the bottom of its base! The hull was roughly hewn from red steel so that it might not deform from the ship’s monstrous bulk, aided by sixteen rotors that were each four times larger than they would have been on a regular airship. Its main gun, as suited a ship of this magnitude, was of the highest physical power imaginable. Even then, the engineers had at one point tried to install the “Mountain Thrower” urban-defense weapon into the ship.

To sum it up, the Utica was the ultimate airship. A crystallization of arrogance built with the most powerful of the most powerful mechanical gadgets, constructed while ignoring all concerns of fuel consumption, maintenance costs, spell burn injuries, and so on, it could be called the greatest piece of artwork ever created.

“Hey, you,” the Division Chief asked Feodor, “what do you think of that airship?”

Feodor contemplated his question, then replied honestly. “...The people who designed it probably had a lot of fun.”

It was nothing more than a toy that had been designed, manufactured, and somehow made operational. He thought that everyone involved with the project would probably say, “How badly drunk was I when I made this piece of junk?!”

“This thing’s supposed to be our ace in the hole for the next strike. We were handed down the order from the General.”

“Is that right.” Feodor reexamined the airship. By his reckoning, it was capable of destroying everyone equally, whether they were friend or foe. One shot of the main gun could blow away a small city - and would likely cost enough to starve out another small city. It was an utterly ridiculous weapon, even without taking into account the matter of having to transport it to the battlefield.

There was only one thing he could say about such a monstrosity.

“Sounds like it’s gonna be a pain.”

“It is a pain.”

To begin with, it was common knowledge that conventional weaponry that weren’t infused with Venom were weak against the Beasts. It wasn’t that they were completely invulnerable to those weapons, but at the same time they simply didn’t have enough decisive power to deal a finishing blow. In the battles against the Teimerre and the Aurora, records of which the Winged Guard had plenty left over, conventional artillery had only been used to keep them in check and to buy time.

Any normal person would have thought to search for some other method. And perhaps, just perhaps, an abnormal person would have thought along these lines:

“Since it’s not effective, let’s put aside the simple problem of firepower for later. If our artillery only produces so much results, wouldn’t it be better for us to strike with an item that has a hundred times that power?”

Needless to say, the kind of factory floor where such things might have been discussed concerned Feodor a hundredfold.

In many ways, Venom was something akin to fire. One reason for that was that it couldn’t maintain itself. If one desired to use their Venom, it had to be ignited on the spot at a specific time. Furthermore, Venom ignited within the body could only exert its effects on outside forces if they made contact with that body.

In other words, it couldn’t be used for risky stunts such as charging and then releasing it like an arrow or shell. If one wanted to unleash a Venom-infused attack on an Beast in any kind of circumstance, it had to be in direct close-quarter combat.

“...Ah, wait. I see… there is just one other method we can use.”

At present, Feodor too knew about the existence of that method.

If a spirit with the ability to ignite their Venom was used, rather than an artillery, shell, then effective attacks without approaching the Beasts were possible.

I don’t know who thought of it, but it’s a logical method. As far as anti-Beast combat goes, it would be a shining ray of hope through the clouds of unreasonable demands.

“First Officer,” Feodor said abruptly. “I wish to ask you an unrelated question.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s about those First-class equivalent officers, sir. I believe you should’ve received three signatures from ranked officers who are higher than First Officer, correct? May I ask who those three might have been?”

The Division Chief paused momentarily. “First Officer Limeskin of the Second Division. First Officer Baroni Makish of the Military Police Division. Myself of the Fifth Division. What of it?”

At the least, those three should be aware of them. Of the people who, though they might live in this base and be treated as equivalent soldiers, could never become soldiers. The reason for their existence, and their true identities.

“Well then, First Officer, perhaps–”

Feodor snapped his mouth shut. It wasn’t something he could ask about. He hadn’t yet been informed about their identities. I mustn’t ask questions based on knowledge which I shouldn’t know about. “No, it’s nothing. Thank you.”

“Is that so?” The Division Chief tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn’t pursue the issue. “...All right.”

* * *

Tiat was there atop the abandoned theatre again, sitting with her arms around her knees.

Feodor had thought that she would’ve learned her lesson after two falls. At the very least, she was keeping her distance from the steam ventilation port. She seemed to have recognized him by the sound of the door opening, as she was giving him fleeting sidelong glances as he walked closer.

“Donuts,” he said in greeting. She nodded, beckoning him closer with little gimmie, gimmie gestures. “...Just what do you think I am?”

“Someone who’s somehow always eating delicious food.”

Gah. It stung, but he couldn’t really deny it.

“Oh, I know!” Tiat smiled. “Why don’t you tell me where you get them?”

“What are you going to do if I tell you that?”

“I thought I should buy something good for Collon and the others, but there’s only lots and lots of flavorless food on this island…” she paused. “Wait, is it bad for me to always think about delicious things?”

“That’s why you left the base without permission?” Feodor tsked. “You know by now that’s against regulations, don’t you?”

“Yep,” Tiat replied brightly. “Our superior officers are way too serious to ask about this stuff.”

“Oh?” He raised one eyebrow. “So really, just what do you think I am?”

“My not-so-serious superior officer.”

...Oh, damn it. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he couldn’t beat her in smack talk. Feodor sighed. “Since you’ve gone on walks so much already, why don’t you try using your feet some more and find it yourself?”

“Hmm… oh, but I don’t have enough pocket money to use for tasting and comparing food at random...”

It wasn’t like soldiers in the Winged Guard weren’t paid cheaply. Ranked officers could provide for a large family with a bit left over to indulge themselves. With that kind of money, they could easily walk around the city spending, unlike university students pinching coins.

She only had to be considered a soldier to be granted that much.

“You’re always here, but why’re you so interested in this place?” Feodor eventually asked. “It’s not all that different than other places you could find around town.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’m interested, but…” He tilted his head as Tiat started mumbling to herself. “...No, wait, am I really?”

He waited, and eventually she volunteered another sentence. “I think this one probably feels the saddest. The wind’s strong, but quiet, and there’s no one here – except for when a certain someone drops by.”

Her logic made sense. “It’s the best place to be when there’s something on your mind,” Feodor agreed, sitting on a spot of the roof near Tiat. From his vantage point, Lyell City spread out below him as it always did.

“I wonder…” Unbidden, the words left his lips. “Is there any meaning in protecting this world?”

“Huh?” Tiat sidled up to him, her outstretched hands not matching her expression. “What kind of question is that? If you’re a Winged Guard officer, shouldn’t you already know the answer?”

“It’s not about me, but rather you.” He dropped another donut into her hands. “Not you as in the First-class equivalent soldier you claim to be, either. I heard about how you’re a Spirit, tuned to some kind of Dug Weapon thing.”

Tiat popped the donut into her mouth. One bite, two bites, and then three bites came before she answered. “How’d you know about that? It’s supposed to be super classified.”

“Well…” It’s because I secretly investigated you using an information broker! Like hell could he say that. No, wait, it was illegal to begin with, so why did I just tell her I know everything?!

What in the world am I doing?

“It’s because I’m your supervisor, and even if it’s just for now, also your superior officer,” Feodor said, feeding her a fake reason. “I need to know what I can do for you, that’s all.”

Tiat snorted, then burst into laughter.

“Why’re you laughing?”

“Ah, sorry, I just got a bit nostalgic.” Tiat patted her chest, small tears welling up in her eyes. He wondered if perhaps some donut pieces had gotten caught in her throat. “You see, someone told us something like that once before. He was a big show-off, but clumsy at heart. Acting so cool really didn’t suit him.”

A name floated to the forefront of Feodor’s mind. The name Tiat had given him before while making the same face he saw now, belonging to the person Lakish and Collon spoke of, the one who had been their previous caretaker. “Is it…. that Willem guy? The one you mentioned?”

“Yep, that’s right.” Tiat giggled fondly. “Our no-good father.”

He couldn’t tell if she respected him or not, but… at the least, that man seemed to have been both a close friend and someone she loved dearly. I don’t know whether it’s because of our ranks or because we might have been similar in age, but it’s honestly unpleasant to be compared to someone I don’t know a thing about.

“I’d protect it,” Tiat said abruptly. Feodor gave her a questioning glance, and she went on. “What you said before, about if this world is worth protecting? There’s no way I’d know something like that. It’s not like I’ve seen enough to think about it for myself, and I don’t have many people I know either. So I don’t think about complicated stuff like that.”

She took a breath. “But I decided that I’d protect my friends, the world, and a bunch of other stuff. I don’t need to wonder about if it has meaning or not. It’s what I’ve decided to do, so I can’t afford to back down. That’s all there is to it.”

“That...” Feodor searched for the right words. “That sounds almost like you want to be a hero.”

“Hmm, I think it’s a bit different from that, but maybe that’s close enough. It’s cool to fight and throw away your life, right?” Tiat chuckled a little. “Any boy or girl my age would worship people who did that.”

“I–”

“There must be a person more precious than your own life, right?”

“That’s why the one who discovers that person is so very happy, and so very fortunate.”

“...I disagree.” Feodor shook his head. “My own life’s more important than some stranger’s.”

“Whaaaat? Geez, boys like you have no sense of romance…”

“It’s exactly because I think that way and only try to satisfy myself that I’m alive now.” He put down the bag of donuts besides him and looked out across the town again.

It might have been because of his perspective or because of the distribution of districts, but in the part of Lyell he could see, there were almost no visible people living or even just moving around. It was impossible to tell if that was because the number of citizens here had shrunken so much, or because they were already gone. The line between a world that had ended and a world still ending grew vague here.

“That might be true for you,” Tiat said in a quiet voice, the last pieces of her donut swallowed. “But, you know, we aren’t exactly alive.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means what I mean. Um, how much do you know? About us?”

“Not much.” He crossed his arms. “You’re naturally occuring spirits that become assets to us by being tuned with dug weapons, and you’re gonna be disposed of after performing this Fairy Gate thing.”

Tiat scratched her head. “Oh, that’s all? Alright, then I’ll just have to fire up my wonderful memory to tell you the rest! Now let’s see, should I give you the rough explanation first...?”

After counting details off her fingers, she began, “Well, first of all, we’re a natural phenomenon called Leprechauns. We can move, talk, and think, but we’re not technically living beings…”

* * *

Tiat told him everything.

According to her, Leprechauns were a variety of ghosts and, strictly speaking, couldn’t be considered truly living.

Fairies were originally nothing more than whispered self-assertions, psychic phenomena whose existence were fragile at best. Chuckling laughs heard from within the forest; milk that decreased a tiny bit overnight; flying around and teasing cattle, and all of it invisible to the naked eye.

Leprechauns, a subspecies of fairies, couldn’t change their nature. They appeared near Emnetwyte habitats and disappeared without being noticed by anyone. But if they happened to be found prior to vanishing, then they would settle into the existence of a single markless child and begin as a counterfeit living being.

Joy, laughter, pain, sorrow, longing, grief…

Until they died, they would act as if they were truly alive.

* * *

“...Well, to put it another way, it’s like playing the leading role in a ghost story,” Tiat concluded. “We’re like ghosts who don’t know they’re dead, or something like that. Although we don’t have regular physical bodies, our high-density souls organize pseudo-matter into a form that imitates them…. or something like that.”

“You don’t have... physical bodies?” Narrowing his eyes into something like a glare, Feodor scrutinized the girl next to him. Short bright green hair swaying in the breeze. The hem of her skirt fluttering majestically in the wind blowing in from the direction of the town. Donut crumbs clinging to her mouth.

No matter how I look at her, she only seems like an energetic, slightly underdeveloped, teenage girl.

“Don’t stare at me. Pervert.”

Feodor rolled his eyes. “I don’t want a markless kid for a partner. Anyway–”

“Hey, don’t call me a kid! Just so that you know, even these–” Tiat made a few gestures, “–have gotten a bit bigger recently!”

“I don’t care.”

“Huh? That’s no good, you know.”

“Oh, give me a break,” he shook his head. “Anyway, I can’t understand what you mean about having no physical body.”

“Hmph…” Tiat pouted. “Just so that you’re aware, we Leprechauns have an unbelievable amount of energy packed inside of us. That’s one of the reasons we’re so highly classified. If we sever our souls from our physical bodies, we can make a massive explosion!” She opened her clenched fists with a “Kaboom!” sound. “Of course, we can’t do that so easily. If that was possible, it probably wouldn’t be so good if you were right next to us.”

Letting her arms fall back to her lap, Tiat continued, “It’s because we can unleash those big explosions that the Winged Guard calls us their final secret weapon. Since it’s naturally connected to our Venom, our results even against a Beast are exceptional. And because it’s something that they kept using in battles against the Teimerre, its practicality has been fully demonstrated by the great fairies that came before us!”

She gave Feodor a snappy thumbs-up, grinning a radiant smile. “We don’t know for sure if it’ll work on the Croyance, but...”

“The strike operation scheduled three months from now,” Feodor replied flatly. “You know, we have an information-gathering unit that can find out just how much of a threat the Croyance is by attacking it to a certain degree, withdrawing, and revising strategies with our newly obtained information. So even if you’re that kind of superweapon, there’s no reason to go about using that power in a hurry.”

“That’s wrong, isn’t it?” Tiat asked him. “You won’t know for certain until we hit it once just how well us bombs can match up against the Croyance. It would be more helpful to you all if we moved first.”

Feodor could feel frustration boiling up inside of him. “How have you guys protected this world from the Sixth Beast’s attacks up to now? You should be getting praise heaped on you! To accept this disposable-weapon treatment… don’t tell me you actually agree with it?!”

“Oh well, I guess it can’t be helped.”

“Don’t you ever think ‘I don’t want to die’!?”

Tiat smiled.

It was a chilling, unfeeling mask of a honest and cheery smile.

“There’s no way I’d think that. After all, from the beginning, we were never alive.”

“...Are you telling me it’s hard for you to be afraid?”

“Even if I feel scared, the facts about us won’t change.” Tiat grew quiet, mumbling to herself, until her eyes widened as if she’d just come up with something, and she punched her fist into a nearby metal wall.

That wall was part of a large-scale mechanism that formed part of the city itself, and as such had many moving parts and edges just below surface level. Specifically, the area Tiat punched had a narrow slit carved into it for heat exhaust ventilation with an eave hanging on its upper edge. Depending on how one touched it, it could act as a sort of dull knife.

The skin on her knuckles tore, red blood spraying onto the wall and floor.

“Wha–” Feodor froze, not understanding any possible reason for her self-harming action. “What the – what the hell are you doing?!”

“Proving what I said before,” Tiat said calmly, blood still seeping from her fist. “As you can see, I’m not afraid of getting hurt or dying.”

“D-doesn’t it… hurt?”

“Oh, yes, it hurts. I can definitely feel pain. But it’s just that.”

Living beings were afraid of getting hurt because it moved them closer to death, but if a being didn’t fear death, they would be unable to avoid harming themselves. Here that logic was at play.

“I’m not afraid of artillery shells,” Tiat said pleasantly. “As a weapon who’s used for do-or-die fights, doesn’t this ability come in handy?”

Feodor felt cold sweat running down his forehead. According to what she’d said before, she must have felt at least some pain. Yet she still smiled, even while saying so many outrageous things.

I can’t bear to see this any longer. “...Okay, I get it.” Feodor looked away from her as he stood. “I’ve decided that I don’t know anything about this. So you’ll have to do your duty. If you want to save Regul Aire so badly that you’re going to throw away your life, then do as you please. I won’t get in your way anymore.”

He opened the collar of his uniform as if to rip it off, tore out a simple first-aid kit that had been sewn into its inside section, and tossed it towards Tiat. “If you’re going to call yourself a weapon, you should know that it’s bad if you don’t maintain your own performance ‘til you’re on the battlefield. And as your superior, I order you: meaningless acts of self-harm are forbidden from now on. Understood?”

“‘Kaaay!” Tiat replied flippantly, opening the kit and taking out some gauze soaked in liquid medicine.

#fan translation #shuumatsu nani shitemasu ka isogashii desu ka sukutte moratte ii desu ka #shuumatsu nani shitemasu ka mou ichido dake aemasu ka #sukamoka

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orlandri-tl · 7 years ago

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[Sukamoka Vol. 1] Chapter 2 Part 4: Rumors of the Four

Feodor tracked down Nax, who had skipped training again to nap in the canopy of a rustling tree. “Hey, you up there! I wondered if you could help me with a bit of a job.”

“Haaah?” came a lazy yawn. “Can’t I catch a Z or two?

Rubbing his eyes, Nax sat up on his tree limb. “Falcon muscles ain’t good for marathon training, y’know? I’m so bad at running it only takes a little sprint to tire me out.” He gave his legs a little shake, wincing. “Go on, check ‘em out – all crampy ‘n whatnot.”

Normally, it would have been entirely within reason for Feodor’s character to be outraged by such disrespect shown to a ranked officer, but Nax was one of his few friends – and besides, alone as they were, he didn’t have to worry about such petty things.

“I’m in the middle of getting some sweet beauty sleep so I can survive afternoon training.” Nax stretched his arms, yawning again. “If you’ve got any business with me then do drop by later, mister Fourth Officer.”

“No, not official business.” Feodor checked that they were alone, then lowered his voice. “I want your skills as an underground information broker.”

“...Oho?” Nax’s bored expression instantly twisted into a smirk. “It’s been a while since you’ve been a client of mine, Feo. Alright.” He leaned forward, all tiredness gone from his frame. “So whaddya want to know? The Division Chief’s vault combination number? Third Officer Hartynaccio’s favorite hair products? The desserts for tomorrow’s mess hall menu? Or maybe, just maybe… the underwear color of them girls you fancy?”

“Wrong, wrong, and wrong again. I want you to look into the background of those four girls we talked about before.”

“What, their underwear after all?”

“No. They’re my subordinates. I don’t want to see them that way.”

“Well, I expected you’d say something boring,” Nax sighed heartily. “Okay, be that way. What, then?”

“As I said, their backgrounds,” Feodor rubbed his head. “Just before the battle with a Beast, they’re sent from the 2nd Division – people who’ve dealt with the Beasts in the past. They seem like ordinary girls at first, but their combat abilities are unexpectedly high-level. If our division is to work with them in battle, we’ll make a powerful attack force… that’s what I thought, anyway, but for some reason I haven’t been able to work out, the higher-ups have been going to a lot of trouble to obscure their talents.”

He paused, and Nax prompted him to continue. “To begin with, why am I – somebody who’s supposedly their direct superior – only being ordered to supervise them on a simplistic, superficial level? That suggests they’re not likely to operate under my command during the actual battle, so are they going to move under some other commander, or on their own judgment? Either could be the case.”

“Uh huh…”

“Even if it’s not, we’re still about to end up in a very important battle. To do so with an unknown factor?” Feodor shook his head. “It’s irritating. I just want to be sure I can rely on them.”

“Alright, got it,” Nax replied briskly, spreading his wings. “I’ve some contacts from the 2nd, so I’ll give it a try.”

The leaves around him danced in the wind as he flapped his wings, preparing for takeoff. “Say, all this stuff you’re talking about – ya sniffing ‘round the military police by chance?”

“Hmm?”

“It doesn’t really matter if you are or aren’t, I guess, but even if there’s no proof, you probably won’t find anything good. I can sort of feel the wind, and there’s definitely something there in the backwinds. It ain’t a big threat or nothing, but be careful not to get found out. Since you’re a valued client, I’ll get ya something just this once – as a special service to ya, y’know.”

“Sure…” Feodor nodded, vaguely lost in thought. “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”

“Feodooooooooor!”

While walking back through the barracks, Feodor heard his name be called as a warm, soft body wrapped around him.

Then in the next moment something gouged into his pressure points, twisted his joints into unnatural positions, wrapped around his neck – in the split-second it’d taken to realize he was attacked, he’d somehow been put into a joint lock, something that had never happened to him before, as well as a stranglehold combined with other painful techniques.

“Owowowowowowowow?! W-wait a minute – ow, OW!”

Regardless of how much he tried to struggle, his body wouldn’t move. More than a simple matter of force, it was as if he’d been impaled by sharpened stakes and tied down to the ground.

However impressed I might be at their great technique, though – it hurts! Hurts! More and more – hurts, really, seriously, hurtshurtshurts!

“How’s that! Give up yet, d’ya?!” Collon’s voice shouted from somewhere behind his neck, close enough for her breath to warm his ear.

“I give up, I give up already! But why – argh – why the surprise attack?!”

“Combat readiness at all times is the warrior’s law! It’s bad not to keep your guard up!”

“I-I can’t agree with that kind of logic! Ngh...” He tried to twist his arm and shift his ligaments back into position, but soon regretted it. “Ow, ow! That hurts!” Crap, it’s no good! I can’t move my shoulders! Can I fall and slam her into the floor? No, that’s no good either, my ligaments might snap if I put too much force on them!

Then he heard a high-pitched scream, accompanied by the pitter-patter of quick footsteps, and looked up to see Lakhesh. A gust followed her as she ran, peeling off a nearby flyer warning Do not run in the hallways. “Collon! What on earth do you think you’re doing?!”

“Lakhesh, you got here just in time!” Feodor coughed out. “Hurry and get her to stop! I don’t think I can bear this for much longer!”

“Aw, it’s fine,” Collon giggled. “It took more than just this to take down Willem, after all!”

Eh? That name aga – OW! OW! OOOOOW!

“He’s not Willem, Collon!”

“Ugh, fine…” the girl on his back relaxed her right arm slightly, loosening her grip on Feodor’s shoulders. His arms spun back to their regular position. Slowly, bit by bit, all the points in his body that’d been immobilized by Collon’s limbs were released until the overwhelming pain vanished like it’d never been there and his body was back under his control.

In the absence of pain, Feodor suddenly became aware of Collon’s body, soft and warm as it was. If we remain in this compromising position, that’d be more than enough time for ridiculous thoughts to start forming in my head.

Before any weird ideas could appear, he shook himself and untangled Collon from his back. “Get off already!” She slid down to the ground with a surprised yelp.

“I-I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” Instead of Collon, it was Lakhesh apologizing and bowing her head at high speeds reminiscent of a bird drinking. “Y-you see, Collon, she’s always been like this! She’s not mean-spirited or anything, she just jumps on people she gets along with like that – ah! B-but she’s not a bad girl, honest! She’s a really, really good girl, it’s true, it’s true!”

“I get it,” Feodor said, rubbing his aching shoulders. If she’d had just a tiny amount of bloodlust or bad intentions about him, his arms would’ve already been snapped. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“I… I see. I’m glad.” Lakhesh smiled wanly, placing a hand on her chest.

“Me too!” Collon added.

“And you! Don’t say that like it’s someone else’s problem entirely!” Lakhesh turned on her wayward comrade, whacking Collon with her tiny fists as the other girl chortled. “Just who do you think we’re talking about?!”

“Hey, Lakhesh,” Collon got out between giggles, “You think of me as your friend, right?”

“Eh?” Lakhesh paused in her assault.

“That’s good. With someone like you, we can all be happy.”

“N-no way, but… to say that kind of thing about me, um…”

“Woohoo!” Collon smiled and laughed. “I’m so happy, so happy!”

“I-I’m happy too, but can’t you be serious for once?!”

...How charming.

Though markless weren’t his type, Feodor couldn’t help but feel soothed whenever he saw little kids getting along. It always created an inexplicably warm sensation in his chest, something like what one might feel from seeing a puppy playing in its cage.

He observed Collon again, the girl giggling and beaming without a care in the world. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t see her physique as anything other than delicate – or rather, normal for the girl she appeared to be. Her arms and legs were relatively thin without much muscle. Beastfolk aside, being a man alone should give Feodor greater muscular strength than her. Yet, on top of having his movements sealed off in an instant, he had been literally unable to free his limbs for the duration of her time on his back.

“Hey, Feodor,” Collon suddenly said, meeting his eyes. “Would you show me how serious you are in battle, if I fought you?”

“Huh?”

“Portrick said you’re super strong, but you didn’t seem like that at all just now.”

“...Ah, I see.” So that’s what’s going on. “It’s not like I’m acting weak. I’m really not very strong at all. How should I put it…?” Feodor thought a moment. “I use an unique kind of fighting style, one that’s only possible against strong opponents like First Officer Portrick.”

Technically speaking, he was half-lying. He did have confidence in his own strength. More than just my deception skills, but explosive power, tactics and judgment, keeping in shape, among other things – I’ve trained myself in the abilities necessary for battle.

He didn’t intend to reveal that fact, of course. He planned to keep his cards hidden as much as possible.

“No, no, wait!” Collon threw up the palm of her hand, as if telling him to stop. “Isn’t that kinda weird logic? I’m strong enough to not lose to Portrick, so if he’s good enough for you, why not me?!”

Feodor hesitated. “...You have a different kind of strength. That goes for me too, though I can’t explain too well.”

“Uh huh…” She hummed, not looking convinced.

“...Oh, by the way.” Though he was still cracking and loosening his muscles, Feodor tried to pose the question he was about to ask naturally. “About that Willem person you mentioned before, who is he?” The name had appeared often enough, but it was a topic that probably wouldn’t be confidential… probably.

Sure enough, Lakhesh was quick to start filling him in. “Um… you see… I think you already know this, but we must always be under the control of distinguished military personnel.” It was the first time he’d heard the always part, but that wasn’t an unexpected surprise. “It’s a story that’s okay for anyone to listen to if they’re more than a ranked officer, I guess.”

She took a breath, then continued. “There aren’t many soldiers who’d be glad to go and babysit children like us. Everyone else immediately resigned and left. Willem was sent to our warehouse like the other soldiers, five years ago. He was an incredibly admirable Technical Officer… and… he was… like a father to all of us.”

Oh… I see. He felt a plunging sensation in his gut. The person Collon and Tiat both talked about had the same position I do now. In other words, they’re comparing me, Feodor Jessman, to their beloved father?

“Do I look old enough to be your father?”

“I-it’s not like that, but – well–” Lakhesh fidgeted and glanced at his face. “Your age m-might not be so different than Willem’s at the time.”

Seriously?! He felt aghast. He wasn’t much younger or older than me, 17 years old as I am, and yet he’s loved as a father by these nearly 15-year-old girls? Just how much willpower does one need to visit them so often as they’re growing up?

For Feodor, so very aware of his youth, it was impossible to imagine. He felt deep respect for the Technical Officer Willem, whose face remained shadowy and unknown.

Some time after that incident, after the day’s training concluded, Feodor sat down to eat in the tumultuous mess hall.

“Thossse new recruitsss of yoursss, they are a group of good girlsss.” One of his fellow Fourth Officers – he couldn’t recall his name, but his hissing accent and body shape gave away that he was a Findantropos – sat down next to him. “Essspecially that Lakhesh. Here in the military, with the sssortie nearing, everyone isss becoming worked up, yesss? If there isss a girl like her presssent, who treatsss everyone kindly, then her presssence must be quite healing for you.”

“No way, not a chance,” the Third Officer seated across from Feodor – a Scarsalantropos with the black shell signature of his race, but whose name he also failed to recall – opened his big mouth. “If it’s one of little Feo’s new recruits, then Collon won’t lose so easily. That one has the overwhelming courage to blow through all her fears. Her bottomless cheerfulness would revive the willpower of the most cowardly soldier. I’d gladly snatch her away for my squad if she wasn’t here as a guest soldier.”

“Mm…” The Findantropos murmured. “But Lakhesh isss the cuter one, isss she not?”

“Hmph. You need courage to survive in battle ‘til the end, not cuteness.”

“Tsssk! Courage, courage – if you love it ssso, why not marry it?”

“That’s what my wife told me too, before she left me.”

“...Ah, I apologize. That wasss inconsssiderate of me.”

The atmosphere became ever-so-slightly awkward.

They’re looking at me, Feodor noticed perfunctorily. As the direct superior of the two in question, it seemed that they expected him to somehow have some comment to add. “Er–”

In the first place, the meals in the 5th Division were never exceptionally tasty. In order to provide food that could be eaten by soldiers of various races – and various tastes – it was intentionally given a flat flavor with no texture or taste to it. Large condiment bottles placed on each table suggested their use to tune the meal to one’s liking, but there were only so much you could dump on to affect how it tasted, and many tired of either option.

Now, in such a gray mealtime, Feodor was expected to offer up his opinion on an equally dull topic. Give me a break.

“...Speaking of those girls, they’re all markless, aren’t they?” he eventually said, allowing roughly half of what he thought on the subject to show on his face.

The Findantropos and Scarsalantropos exchanged blank glances, before the former hissed softly, “Ah, yesss… I heard that Fourth Officer Jessssman hatesss the marklessss.”

“Mm-hmm, that’s right. Since you’re usually so friendly to everyone around you, I’d completely forgotten.”

They said it as if it was a big surprise. Everyone around me, he says? I know that’s how I act, but…

“Still, I didn’t take him to be so foolish as to let prejudices cloud his eyes. The girls are excellent personnel. You can’t deny that, can you?”

“Yesss. You are willing to confessss they are good girlsss, are you not?”

Asking me that, pressing me from both sides for answers? The nerve of these two...

Even for someone as prejudiced as Feodor, however, there was one thing he could grudgingly say about the four girls.

They lived every day to its fullest, recklessly racing through the passing hours. Before a battle where they might die, they had enough strength of mind, enough emotional control, that they wouldn’t crack under the strain of mortality. Whether that was bravery or ignorance, he couldn’t say, but all the same, that singular quality was visible to even his markless-hating eyes. And so…

“...I suppose… I can admit to that much,” he grumbled in a low voice, accepting his loss.

Triumphant smiles, identical after a fashion, appeared on the faces of the pair to his left and right. “And now I asssk,” the Findantropos said, “boy who sharesss their race, which do you favor? Perhapsss, the modessst type?”

“Indeed!” the Scarsalantropos added. “What a man truly desires to have at his side is a comrade in arms, one who will dash through the battlefield named life with him!”

This is bad. Even though they know I hate all markless, how did the conversation turn out like this again?

“Hmmm…” the Armado First Officer that he’d spoken with before, eating at a nearby table, suddenly looked over. “Well, it’s fine to answer that honestly,” he said in his usual disinterested tone. “I know you hate markless, and don’t care to blame you for it.”

“But,” he continued, suddenly appearing almost like the adult his age suggested him to be, “if I may add this much, I trust you’re not a narcissist who just enjoys saying ‘I hate myself’ or some sort of nonsense. So rather than getting some weird fixation on hating them, it’s fine to have opinions like ‘I like them when I like them.’ You’re still young, after all.”

“I completely agree!” Private First Class Portrick added, baring his fangs in a joyful grin. “As expected of the Fourth Officer, I knew we were kindred spirits! Well then, for the sake of those innocent children, let’s be people who’d willingly march to our deaths to protect their happiness!”

I wouldn’t go that far. Although he did feel lonely on occasion, he was committed enough to his role as the explementary role model to hide whatever growing desperation he might feel. And as for Portrick’s remark – if the teen girls were children, then as somebody who only had two or three years on them, Feodor himself shouldn’t be considered so different. In which case, how does Portrick classify them…? Well, I don’t think I want to know his reasoning, so I won’t ask.

“A good markless doesn’t exist.” He was snapped out of his train of thought by Private First Class Talmareet’s blunt statement. The old Ayrantropos walked over. “But you must agree, those youngsters are growing the soul of a tail.”

Is that the punchline? You share my hatred on markless, and yet you have a fondness for those girls too? “Well, I don’t see any tails sprouting from their buttocks.”

He gave him a flat, irritated glare. Feodor returned a snide half-grin, behind which the meaning of “it’s the truth” laid.

Ultimately, Feodor was just too different from them. He wasn’t honest, nor did he live life to the fullest. He was a devious Imp, sneaking around in inconspicuous places and deceiving everybody around him. He wasn’t worthy of their favor.

“...Hmm.”

Feodor glanced at Nax, hearing the Falcon’s noncommittal noise. For some reason, he hadn’t risen to any of the bait being laid down, and had instead nodded along to everybody else’s comments. Usually, he would blather on and on about him, along the lines of “Well, well, well! So Feo’s finally gonna wake up and discover women exist, ain’t he?! My lucky day! Don’t ya worry, fellas, I’ll teach this useless guy everything about women from now on. Seeing as there’s four of ‘em, I reckon he’ll be able to blow it with up to three,” wearing a stupid smirk the whole time. Seeing his lack of interest now was… unexpected.

“Yo. That investigation ya got me for. I’ve found something.”

“Already? Even by your standards, that’s fast.”

“Eh, no biggie. Just ‘cause it’s called classified don’t mean the info itself is handled all that strictly.” Nax lightly waved around an envelope with some papers poking out of it. “Cases like this one, there’s something they really want to hide, so most of the stuff up-front are just dummies, but… well, this time my intuition told me it wasn’t like that. Most likely this is what ya want. Honest evidence. The real deal.”

“...You know, the way you’re talking is a bit odd. You wouldn’t happen to be overexaggerating it, would you?”

“Nah. Even for me, it was intriguing stuff.” Nax’s eyes flicked to the folder, and his lip curled. “Normally, I’d feel bad taking a peek.”

Heh?

Feodor considered it. Nax was, to speak of him generously, easygoing. Speaking badly, he was an irresponsible slacker. His insincere attitude never broke, he didn’t reveal his real feelings, and he acted like he was teasing someone or enjoying himself all the time. It was bizarre to see such seriousness on his face, to hear the heavy disgust in his voice. “Going on about it like you are… are they the bastard children of some important family? Some story like that?”

“You’ll understand once ya read it. After that? Burn it.”

So cold. That’s… really odd.

Nax shoved the envelope into Feodor’s chest and turned on his heel. “Honestly, I didn’t care what ya were planning to do with it, but I think I get it now.”

His back to Feodor, the Falcon spoke with frustration floating through his words.

“Regul Aire may be about to fall.”

Bing bong.

The lodge’s front entrance grandfather clock chimed as Feodor returned to his room, the consecutive tones telling him it was 7 in the evening.

Once he was inside, he opened the envelope and removed its contents. It wasn’t very thick, but if there was anything to Nax’s words, then it had significantly more information than it seemed.

...Muster up your courage and read it quickly. With that running through his mind, Feodor turned the pages.

427/6/15: Spirit Va captured on Floating Island 23.

“...Huh?”

It wasn’t informative at all. Rather, it was a type of document that had been cleaned up into a report format. A familiar format.

These are… management documents of disposable weapons in the Winged Guard. They’re used to confirm the stockpile of one-shot ships and rare, unique munitions.

I get it – I get that much, but I don’t understand anything beyond that.

What is this meant to be? I asked for an investigation into those four girls, so what’s with this stuff? That ass, Nax… did he make a mistake and throw the wrong documents into the envelope?

Putting aside his concerns, Feodor continued to read.

427/6/16: Spirit Ur opens Fairy Gate during battle on Floating Island 72. Disposed of.

427/6/19: Spirit Ro reaches maturity.

427/7/08: Spirit We is tuned to Dug Weapon Insania.

427/7/11: Spirit We opens Fairy Gate during battle on Floating Island 14. Disposed of.

427/8/15: Spirit Ro is tuned to Dug Weapon Insania.

427/8/22: Spirit Ti is captured on Floating Island 47.

Although the information’s origin was unknown, if he could assemble the numbers with some hypotheses, the meaning would emerge.

First of all, what’s recorded here is a material situation designated with the title of “Spirit.”

When they use the word in this context, it indicates a whole spirit body with an concrete anchor which I don’t know of yet. It might be something that inhabits an container, or perhaps something that inhabits a place… or if it’s a different species altogether, does it dwell in a faith or contract? No, wait, not all of those possibilities are usable in military terms, so is it better to assume it indicates a specific race among us?

By the way “spirits” are mentioned here, I can tell they form all over Regul Aire and have been captured regularly. It takes a reasonable amount of time for them to mature. After that, they perform a “tuning” with another part called a “Dug Weapon” and head into a battle. There, they activate a phenomenon called a “Fairy Gate” and are afterwards disposed of.

The battles occur quite often. The only enemy the Winged Guard wars with that much would be the Teimerre. That means these items are, most likely, high-powered explosive bullets that are utilized for enemies such as the Beasts, said to be otherwise invincible against conventional weaponry.

437/12/16: Spirit Ti is tuned to Dug Weapon Ignareo.

A familiar proper noun caught his eye.

438/3/30: Spirit La is tuned to Dug Weapon Seniolis.

438/6/05: Spirit Pa is tuned to Dug Weapon Katena.

438/7/20: Spirit Co is tuned to Dug Weapon Purgatorio.

Names he knew, lining up one by one.

Their ridiculously long names floated into his mind as if by random chance. Tiat Shiba Ignareo. Collon Rin Purgatorio. Panival Nox Katena. Lakhesh Nyx Seniolis. Damn it. Damn it to hell. It’s the beginnings of their names – and the names of their Dug Weapons? It’s completely consistent.

“...What the hell… is going on here…?”

Feodor double-checked it. Indeed, what he was holding was management documents of disposable weapons. Items used to manage a number of disposable small airships or munitions.

So why, why were their names in that list?

“.........”

He understood. Thinking about it logically, there was only one conclusion that could be made. To approach it from any other direction, try to see it any other way, was simply impossible.

“You should be happy,” someone’s insidious whisper slipped into his ear.

Why did Feodor Jessman place himself in danger, put his body on the line, in some place like the Winged Guard? Was it to protect the world? No. To get a good career and become rich? No.

It must have been to search for this.

The Winged Guard and the Orlandri General Trading Company had been wielding secret anti-Beast combat weapons. It was never determined what sort of thing had prevented the Teimerre’s invasions countless times. Until now. That goal had been achieved. It’s done.

But joy didn’t erupt within Feodor. Instead, something like frustration or anger, something not dissimilar to both feelings, did. Pitch-black emotions distorted, coiled, twisted into a whirling vortex in his chest.

Choked with emotion and unable to be rid of it, Feodor hurled the papers in his hand at the wall. They hit with a thud and scattered upon impact, dancing and spinning across the room.

One such paper fell on the floor at his feet. It was a page of the previously-tightened document, with writing on it he had not yet read.

443/5/11: Spirit Ti to open Fairy Gate during battle on Floating Island 39. Disposal planned.

443/5/11: Spirit Co to open Fairy Gate during battle on Floating Island 39. Disposal planned.

443/5/11: Spirit Pa to open Fairy Gate during battle on Floating Island 39. Disposal planned.

#sukasuka #sukamoka #fan translation #shuumatsu nani shitemasu ka isogashii desu ka sukutte moratte ii desu ka #shuumatsu nani shitemasu ka mou ichido dake aemasu ka

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