Chapter 312: A Day Off (2)

In Finnomia, the name Toibo Hakae had become something close to a legend. Counter-snipers sent out solely to catch Toibo, and even the Adversaries that Lobrus took such pride in, had been shot dead one after another.

Yet the war itself was going badly for Finnomia.

That couldn't be helped.

Finnomia was still holding out, and the Kalkanama Isthmus remained secure, but the difference in national strength was too great.

The Eastern Alliance had advanced from all sides and already pushed back the other fronts.

"...Spring's here."

Before long, the season seemed to have begun changing.

Toibo toyed with the melting snow dripping from the sled.

Once spring came and the snow melted, the enemy wouldn't be able to advance either.

Perhaps that was why rumors of armistice talks in Finnomia's capital had reached even the underground barracks.

In fact, not a single shell had fallen today.

Was this their first day off in a long while?

"..."

Toibo Hakae slung a rifle over one shoulder.

At last, it was time to return to a hobby.

That day, Toibo loaded three deer and five rabbits onto the sled, along with a recovered supply crate that the Finnomians called a "gift package."

"Toibo! Toibo! Toibo!"

Even as they chanted Toibo Hakae's name, their eyes stayed fixed on the gift package.

As this showed, feelings toward the Empire were very warm on the Finnomian front.

That went for both the officers who had received direct training from Imperial officers and the ordinary soldiers who used the cigarettes, socks, and chocolate from the packages.

Thanks to them, we were holding out.

...

Schweitzer prepared for war.

He had recruited promising stars such as Elvin, Rauten, and Vogel. Under them were Adel and Bernhardt, whom Maximilian had mentioned personally, and finally Kai Han.

He had picked only those who were trustworthy and those who weren't ugly.

"Hey. What do the Frontline Imperial Guard bastards seem to think?"

Schweitzer asked Kai Han in the barracks.

"...They seem to think it's unrealistic."

"And you?"

Kai Han's hand stopped.

He gave a little smile that spread brightly across his face.

"I don't think it's impossible."

"...Ha!"

A smile spread across Schweitzer's face as well.

If there was anyone I could call my pupil, it would be this one.

"Good. Then you can put what I say in order and pass it on to the other general officers."

"Yes, sir."

They weren't people he wanted to spend much time with anyway, and if he kept talking, he might needlessly offend them.

Those who had risen to the top were far more sensitive and idiotic than one might expect. Hardly anyone listened to him as carefully as Maximilian did.

"First, we'll position our forces to the north."

The route through Zerpha, and the route that involved occupying the three northwestern countries and pushing through.

"We'll actually launch attacks there, too. They'll probably think they're the main attack force themselves. They'll push damn hard..."

To deceive the enemy, you had to deceive your own side as well.

Kai Han organized Schweitzer's words as he wrote them in his notebook.

...

The continent's Allied Powers, including Prozen and Hailand, prepared to face the Empire.

Prozen had obtained reports of Imperial troop movements and encrypted messages. It was now putting every resource into decoding them.

"The routes the Empire can take are limited."

Foreign Minister Duvall, Chief of General Staff Morin, and Intelligence Director Akenji.

Prozen's key figures had gathered at Professor Jean Pierre's private residence.

Morin spoke.

"Option one, through Zerpha."

They called this gathering, where they discussed the war, the Study Gathering. The reason was simply that they met in Professor Jean Pierre's study.

"Option two, occupying the three northwestern countries and coming down from the north."

Prozen and Hailand had formed an alliance with those countries.

They stood against the Empire under the name of the Allied Powers.

"The Empire will probably split its forces and attempt both options at once."

Everyone listened to him seriously.

"The Allied forces will give some ground on the plains, dig trenches behind the river, and establish defensive lines to meet them. We have the Kettlak Line, after all..."

The Kettlak Line. A line of fortresses built along the Imperial border over the twenty years following the Western War. Concrete gun turrets, underground barracks, and underground railways connecting the fortresses. It was the wall Prozen trusted most.

But that wall only faced the Empire directly. It stopped at the borders of the three northern countries and before Mekken.

Jean Pierre listened quietly, then spoke.

"Chief of General Staff, I believe there's one place left."

"...One place?"

Jean Pierre's gaze settled on a particular spot.

Mekken.

"...Haha."

The chief of general staff laughed first, and Foreign Minister Duvall placed a hand on Jean Pierre's shoulder.

"A professor through and through. You're still rather naive in these matters."

Jean Pierre frowned slightly. Morin spoke as though there was nothing to be done.

"First, it's difficult for tanks to pass through Mekken. Second, even if they sent infantry through, it would take so long that we'd detect them in no time. Third, the monsters..."

It was a patient explanation, but even as Jean Pierre listened, he was thinking of a particular person.

Someone who would choose a route that guaranteed victory if it succeeded, even if the chances of success were low.

"...But they already broke through a difficult route when they occupied Bolska."

Jean Pierre's objection was quite serious. This time, Morin frowned.

"Professor Jean Pierre, Bolska and Mekken are on entirely different levels."

Having fought in the Western War, he had actually walked through Mekken.

"They can never, ever cross Mekken. Even concentrating all our forces may not be enough. What would we gain by worrying about a place like that?"

"..."

Jean Pierre looked at Morin as though he were a stone statue.

A man whose judgment had hardened with age. He insisted on doing what he had done before, but that past was now far too distant.

"The greatest problem lies elsewhere."

Morin turned his gaze to Akenji, as though saying it was their turn.

"A means of countering knights."

"...Yes."

Hailand had established a system. It had shared that system with Prozen, but opposition was fierce.

Even now, after declaring war on the Empire, the assembly was consumed by factional struggles. If anything, its members were desperate to use the war as an excuse to crush their opponents.

"To counter the knights..."

Akenji spoke.

"We'll hire underground mercenaries."

Underground mercenaries.

To keep public opposition from interfering, they would use them in complete secrecy, through underground channels.

"There are also many outlaws in prison."

Some superhumans had grown up on the streets. They had abused their mana in Prozen's back alleys, been caught, and ended up in prison.

"Here's the list."

Akenji handed out lists prepared in advance.

They included notorious anti-imperialists and even anarchists such as Gentra, various wanted criminals, and plenty of offenders who were already in prison.

"What do you think?"

"Wait, you intend to use people like these?"

The foreign minister asked again in disbelief.

Duvall let out a hollow laugh, pointing at the crimes listed in the documents: serial murder, arson, robbery, terrorism...

Even so, Akenji remained firm.

"...Yes."

"Is that really necessary?"

That was the chief of general staff's question.

Both the foreign minister and Jean Pierre looked reluctant.

After considering their reactions at length, Akenji spoke.

"...Take a look."

It was an encrypted message. A document the intelligence bureau called the Izenheim File.

"This is information I've received. The terrible things currently taking place in the Empire..."

Akenji continued. As the explanation grew longer, sentence by sentence, everyone's expression changed. The contents were that difficult to believe.

Sending subspecies to Camps, slaughtering them by whatever means necessary, and burning them. Their extermination itself was the goal.

The chief of general staff asked in a trembling voice,

"Is this true?"

"...Yes. We've lost contact with agents who actually infiltrated the Camps. They were Izenheim too, of course."

Akenji's face quickly filled with anger.

Grrk. They ground their teeth and continued.

"The person who designed this system was the Empire's Maximilian."

Maximilian.

Jean Pierre pictured his face.

The most versatile person on the continent, yet also the most dangerous and frightening, filled with the greatest hatred.

"I intend to gather every talent this country has."

Akenji spoke.

"But this, too, will be a process of forging them."

Their voice carried heat and hatred.

"I intend to sift through Prozen's talents, again and again, to form a team that will assassinate Maximilian."

Perhaps that feeling burned at a similar heat to Maximilian's hatred of the Izenheim.

It was probably because Akenji was Izenheim too. To Akenji, Maximilian was the butcher of their people.

"I've already chosen an operation name."

At Akenji's resolve, Morin's expression grew firm as well.

A stubborn man was sometimes moved by another person's stubbornness. Perhaps that stubbornness spread to him.

Morin asked as though asking about the nation's future.

"The operation name?"

Akenji answered.

"[Holiday]."

* * *

Scrape. Scrape.

Knives scraped at Lilac Vita.

"Zendo has grown."

Schatz spoke as she ate her meat.

Zendo. The investigator I had first met in Gennen had now become an operative notorious even among the Revolutionary Faction.

"We've also produced quite a few useful agents besides Zendo."

Secret agents who had passed the "Extreme Trial" devised by Schatz Heizen herself.

They had no hesitation about weeding out the Izenheim, thought quickly, and were excellent at handling subordinates.

"What about the reporting system?"

"They always work with the Yaken when making 'distinctions.'"

The Gennen branch office's annual budget was on the level of a small country's counterintelligence bureau.

Since Dieter managed the organization directly, it might even use its budget more efficiently than the Hailand Intelligence Bureau.

"Then..."

Slice. Slice.

I asked as I cut my steak.

"How about you, Schatz?"

"I'm continuing to improve."

She always answered that way. She kept talk of herself brief.

But today seemed a little different.

"...And how are you, sir?"

Schatz asked about me.

I smiled.

We hadn't exchanged many words over our years together, so even a small question like that was precious.

"I'm... hoping."

Schatz listened quietly.

"That someday, when all of this is over..."

When we had won the war and exterminated the Izenheim.

When I was remembered as an imperialist who had slaughtered tens of millions.

"Maybe we'll be able to live in a little peace then."

"..."

Schatz said nothing. She stared at me as though I might disappear if she blinked.

"...I mean, I want you to stay by my side until it's all over."

At that, the corners of Schatz's mouth moved ever so slightly. It was clearly a smile.

"Even after everything is over..."

Her expression softened.

"I'll remain by your side, sir."

Our relationship had begun with a contract. I had helped her achieve her goal, and her revenge was now complete.

Even so, she had remained by my side.

She had come to take pride in being Aran.

My beliefs had become part of Schatz.

What I wanted to say to her was...

"Thank you."

Heartfelt appreciation.

At my words, Schatz nodded, looking like her usual self again.

...

I visited Aternum on my day off, accompanied by general officers from the Imperial Air Force.

I wanted to hear their opinions, make any improvements we could, and fix anything that needed fixing.

"We're repeatedly engaging Hailand's fighters."

There wasn't much difference in aircraft performance. No matter how much money we poured in, the era itself had limits. We couldn't operate tanks while everyone else was using battering rams.

That meant the most important factor was the pilots' ability.

"These are aircraft that returned safely despite taking damage."

Planes that had returned safely with bullet holes here and there, torn wings, or scorched fuselages.

The general officers pointed to those exact areas as they spoke.

"We've received reports that adding armor to these areas would increase the chances of returning alive."

"..."

Something about this situation felt familiar.

A passage I had read in a book before my regression.

"...No."

I placed a hand on my chest.

Virus. From the drawers of my memories that it held, I pulled out a book.

"It's the opposite."

How Luck Deceives You.

I had read about something like this in a book by a scholar named Dejin Chazelle.

"Pardon?"

"The... opposite?"

"What do you mean by the opposite...?"

The officers looked at one another.

Their faces suggested they had plenty to say but couldn't say it.

I smiled.

"These aircraft were hit, but they returned. That means these are areas where a plane can take a hit and still make it back."

"...Oh?"

Had it finally occurred to them that this might be true?

Their expressions gradually changed.

"In that case, where do you think the aircraft that didn't return were hit?"

The officers' eyes widened.

They all looked back at me and nodded.

"The areas without bullet holes must actually be more critical!"

"Then instead of these areas, we should reinforce..."

"You certainly think differently!"

They sounded genuinely impressed, without even a trace of flattery.

At times like this, I felt a little smarter.

It was something utterly obvious in the future. Even without bringing up the future, anyone could work it out with enough thought. But when people became fixated on the damage right before their eyes, it could take them a long time to notice.

I had merely skipped the thinking process and given them the result.

"Estimate the distribution of hits and pass it on to Aternum as well. Apply the same principle to armor reinforcement in general, not just fighters."

"Yes, sir!"

The factory manager hurriedly wrote something on a document. Among the officers, a general's aide followed along, writing down everything I said.

These days, my every move was being recorded.

Now, whenever people met me, or sat down at their desks after meeting me, they took up a notebook or a pen and recorded the days they had spent with me. They carefully chose their words, preserving that day.

All these anecdotes about me would someday spread across the continent...

And become history.