Part 2

But it turned out God wasn't so kind. We were suddenly called to assemble. Before I knew it, we had all gathered.

"Good. Okay, company, I have some bad news."

Uh-oh. I couldn't help but grow tense as Lieutenant Schwarkopf matter-of-factly— unsympathetically so—continued talking. Even with my limited military experience, I had learned that there was no worse sign than a commanding officer going on matter- of-factly.

"We've received an urgent message. The 403rd Assault Mage Company has suddenly entered an encounter battle with two penetrating enemy mage companies."

That meant the company that was tasked with handling the next enemy wave had been attacked. A new enemy had bothered the guys who were supposed to be attacking the reinforcements. My brain was tired, but the sense of crisis got it moving, and soon I was up to speed. There were our troops, the next wave of enemy forces, and the new enemy.

"…And the reinforcements?"

"The artillery is pounding away at them, but the observer is being chased by enemy direct support mages and can't properly assess the impacts."

The conversation between superior officers made me predict a horribly bad future.

Ah, I have to fight again, I sighed as I comprehended the situation.

"So we have to rendezvous with the 403rd. We're moving out immediately."

It was just one thing after another. And plus, it's not so easy to rebuild the will to fight once you've relaxed. The company commander continued, heedless of me and my scattered thoughts.

"At the same time, we have to rescue that observer who's under attack. He's requested backup. That reminds me, you experienced something like this up north, didn't you, Lieutenant Degurechaff?"

"Yes, sir, and I'm not looking to repeat it."

Observing for the artillery was almost like painting a target on your back for enemy mages. Any veteran would repeatedly tell you how critical it was to take out the artillery's eyes, because then the guns were nothing to be afraid of. If you were the eyes for the ruler of the battlefield, your fate was being the first to get shot at.

…Elya, you liar. You're not safe in the rear having tea!

Observers got targeted to a shocking degree. What terrified me more than anything was that even Lieutenant Degurechaff, who could calmly weave through a hail of bullets, had been seriously injured when she was an observer. That was how intensely the enemies came after them.

Another way to think of it was that this observer, in the same position as Elya, was in serious trouble. It wasn't at all logical, but a voice was telling me I had to save him. I didn't really understand the feeling, either.

So I had to do my best in this rescue operation. Newly determined, I stretched and took a deep breath to wake up. But I only felt different. On the outside, I still looked like a dead-tired kid.

"I see. Well then…Lieutenant Degurechaff, as a Silver Wings recipient, is the rescue possible?"

"Not even counting any potential delays, it would be difficult." "Even if you used Type 95?"

"…I'm fine, but Corporal Serebryakov looks to be at her limits," Lieutenant Degurechaff responded, a bit resigned sounding, after glancing at me as I stood there dazed and motionless. "I don't want to be an inept officer who takes her subordinate out on a rescue mission only to lose her in addition to the one we're supposed to be rescuing."

"Then break up the pair. No, never mind."

The emotions contained in her words were hard to pin down. Maybe disappointment, maybe concern, but in the end, what she'd simply stated was that it was impossible. And the way Lieutenant Schwarkopf changed his mind mid-response said it all. A pair was the basic unit.

If Lieutenant Degurechaff flew the rescue mission solo, I would be faced with an aerial battle with at least two mage companies. Assuming that units over the border would have backup was elementary. Without my buddy's help, my chances of survival as a squirt with no support were slim.

Even if I wanted to go on the mission, I was standing there in front of them all, tired and absentminded after the last attack. That was why they rejected the idea. That was where their hesitation came from.

When I realized that, I shouted. I didn't understand the urge very well myself. "Commander, if I may!"

"Corporal Serebryakov?"

"I'd like to volunteer! I volunteer for the rescue mission!"

Lieutenant Schwarkopf sounded suspicious. Well, I had interrupted my superior officers, which could get me punished. I never would have dreamed I'd do something so impulsive, that I had that kind of guts.

"Corporal!"

"I'm an imperial soldier, too! While it's presumptuous of me to say so, I believe I can handle this mission!"

Lieutenant Degurechaff's short reprimands would usually make me go limp, but even her harsh tone couldn't stop me this time.

"Commander, please let me go!"

"That's what she says, Lieutenant." "Lieutenant Schwarkopf?!"

Her shocked yelp and her eyes, usually half-closed in disinterest, now popped as wide open as they could go—the way she objected to this unbelievable response made her look somehow closer to the ten-year-old girl she was.

Apparently even someone who seemed so cold on the surface had been worrying about her subordinates.

"I'll have Schones's squad escort you. Move out." "But…Lieutenant."

"She's made up her mind. I understand your concern, Lieutenant, but any more just makes you overprotective."

Lieutenant Degurechaff looked astonished. Maybe she's more emotional than she lets on. The thought was impertinent, but her expressions were so funny that I couldn't help it. Though it wasn't what I should have been focusing on at the moment, I felt I sort of understood my friend who teased me for my funny faces.

Lieutenant Degurechaff's vampire-like coldness had faded, and a little bit of distress took its place.

It was weird to realize just then how unexpectedly important I was to her. And it was a bit late in the game, but it also struck me what a young girl it was taking care of me.

"Understood. I'll do my best."

"To save the day in a crisis is the dream of every mage. Good luck." "And to you, Commander."

With that, the main body of the company left. Lieutenant Degurechaff saw them off and then turned to me with an admiring smile.

"Well then, Corporal. Are you ready?"

It was a good smile. For some reason, seeing that expression, I couldn't help but think that she really did have pointy teeth like a vampire's. But I still smiled back, proud and confident. That's right, I made up my mind. I won't abandon anyone.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Good. Then it's time to go to work. Sergeant Schones, I'll be making good use of your team as well."

"Sure thing. We've got more experience on the Rhine Front than anyone."

"Damn Intelligence to hell! How could they tell us this area is under-defended?!"

The combatants were nimble. Graceful from a distance. But in reality, the imperial mages were desperately taking evasive actions as the observer cast his optical formula with a shower of mana glow. This was finally shot number four. They had been picking off enemy observers for a while now, but it hadn't affected the artillery's accuracy one bit. From the sound, they were probably firing 120 mms. Worst-case scenario, maybe some 180 mm or 240 mm as well.

The ground forces trying to leave the fighting area were in disarray, and the enemy was having a field day. Their breaching formation may have been ideal for speed, but it made them vulnerable to fire.

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[Image]

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Their only advantage was direct mage support that let them focus on breaking the line. Unfortunately, Control couldn't get around to assisting them, so they were intercepting about as well as if they were shooting at random with their eyes closed.

Though they had taken out the solo enemy observers, a warning must have gone out. There were limits to how well jamming could be maintained. Enough time had elapsed that they had to assume that a decent intercepting force or quick reaction force was on its way. In the worst case, their own retreat would be cut off in addition to the ground troops'. That was how much time had gone by.

"If you got time to flap your lips, cast some formulas! You bastards!"

To support their infantry's retreat, they had to neutralize the enemy artillery somehow. And that was the problem: How? The simplest way would be to attack them, but from the scale of the bombardment, it seemed like corps level artillery.

If it were artillery attached to a division or a battalion, charging in prepared to die would give them a chance, but corps level artillery would anticipate anti-mage combat. That's why their only option is to hunt down the weak points, the observers. But not only did that take a lot of time and effort, the effects weren't immediately obvious.

"Aye, sir. Agh, there's only so much we can do with opticals. Give us authorization for explosion formulas."

If they blew up the whole area with explosion formulas, that would catch any observers hiding on the ground, too. They didn't have time to scan the surface for each optical cast. Not only did they have to drop their altitude to a certain extent, but also they had to do multiple flyovers to ensure they didn't miss anything. At first they caught them off guard, but their enemies weren't stupid. The ones who expect their opponents to be fools are the real idiots.

News of their attack must have spread quickly, so the other observers had probably gone into hiding. Finding them would take a terrific amount of effort.

"At this rate, we won't even be able to get half of them."

Hence the idea of blowing the entire suspicious zone away. That was one valid method. Actually, in the preliminary stages of artillery battles, both sides would send out scouting parties to search for the enemy position and lay down high-explosive anti-personnel suppressive fire. If they were lucky, they might take out the observer squad. But this method presupposed a certain amount of firepower.

Basically, they would need at least an entire mage company sustaining maximum available firepower. That would certainly give them a boost, but it would be too heavy a burden for the current forward direct support unit. And if they suppressed them with a formula big enough to burn up the whole area, it would seriously hamper them in sustaining combat later.

"Out of the question. In the long term, it will just make finding them harder." But in the long term, it was really not their day.

"Detecting high mana! Suspected reinforcements—mages—coming up fast!" "Ah, damn it! Forget hunting observers! Get ready to intercept!"

They were scattered and exhausted. Military doctrine would emphatically recommend avoiding combat in such a state, but logic was first and foremost idealistic. Things wouldn't be so tough if it were actually possible to follow doctrine in combat. Since the leading army had yet to finish extricating itself, if the backup were to retreat, literally everyone would get killed.

Of course, the ground units had been retreating since the moment they failed to break through, and an overhead view of the battleground showed the entire army was pulling out, but mages could move far faster than troops on the surface.

They could just see the observers returning to direct the batteries and take out their ground army while they were fighting off the reinforcement mages.

That was why they had to secure this airspace. There were some battles you couldn't run away from.

"All units, our observer is down. I say again, our observer is down."

Hearing that, Second Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff makes an irritated face and mutters, "Just great."

If only we had sortied slightly earlier or even a bit later is the lament that crosses my mind.

All I can do is curse the terrible timing. They didn't make it in time to help their ally but have come too close to the enemy to turn back now. This will be all pain and no gain.

"…As you all just heard, unfortunately we didn't make it in time, but that just means our job is a bit different."

"Lieutenant Degurechaff, isn't this too much for one platoon?"

Sergeant Schones, on loan to Tanya from the company commander, gives a warning. According to the latest from the Combat Direction Center, they've lost contact with a mage; they're sure he was shot down. Before his signal went dead, he reported a group of enemy mages that looked like at least two companies. In a sense, retreating is the correct answer despite the danger of being pursued. They were dispatched to perform a rescue. If the object of the mission has been taken out, there's no need for them to stick around.

"Sergeant Schones, your opinion is correct in most cases, but not in our current situation."

Common sense would never have them undertaking this fight as a solo platoon. Even Tanya would turn on her heel and return to base if there was enough distance between them. But rather than risk pursuit and be constantly watching their backs, it's better to take the initiative and strike.

"I can't deny that we're outnumbered…but we don't need to wait around for the enemy to regroup and assemble."

Taking out enemies one by one is an elementary war strategy.

"From the way they're moving, the penetrators are probably two companies equipped for long-range movement."

They're probably elite forces, but they've come a long way on high alert. Surely they're more than a little tired. They had to break through the Empire's defensive line and save energy for the equally long trek back to base; that greatly limits the amount of energy they can expend in the fight. Meanwhile, the imperial mages can put up a fierce defense and then just wait for friendly forces to pick them up afterward. If the artillery makes it to their position in time, a cleanup bombardment could be arranged.

Of course, even if the enemy is exhausted, I can't count on them to be careless. Still, the body often betrays the will. My platoon's chances of victory are not slim. More than anything, the enemy is scattered due to the sweeping operation. Their units are too spread out and can only coordinate in groups up to platoon size.

Although this battle is following directly on the previous one, the mages from the Imperial Army can go full throttle since they're on defense. Meanwhile, the Republican side has to operate on enemy territory with limited support and supplies. Assuming even numbers, the scale will still tip heavily toward the Empire.

"In other words, this is a simple task of taking out one exhausted platoon six times."

Maybe it's a slapdash strategy, but they have the supplies. They even have support, though not much.

One-on-six sounds hopeless, but one-on-one gives them a chance. If they do some damage despite their numerical inferiority, the army can't ask for anything more.

"Okay, guys. I'll take three platoons. The rest are yours. This shouldn't be too hard."

I can't expect to wipe them out completely, but it's a perfect opportunity to rack up points by taking out one at a time. It's a good chance to put my capabilities on display.

The rescue was a failure, but thankfully, we've got the artillery battery behind us—a little energy to spare. I heard they even saved some shrapnel shells for us. How perfect! I had been upset that I didn't get away with using my exhausted partner to refuse the mission, but I guess you never know when you'll get lucky in life.

Still, Tanya thinks, with a glance at the face of the subordinate behind her. Corporal Serebryakov may be nervous, but she's flying steady. She's skilled, yet she was drafted. She didn't join up because she wanted to; she's a young girl who was pressed into service. I would never have dreamed a corporal with such a background would volunteer for combat. Was it out of a sense of duty? Patriotism? Love for her buddy? Someone willing to do jobs above their pay grade is a promising human resource.

"Are you trying to monopolize the title of ace, Lieutenant?"

"Good question, Sergeant. Nah, just if I take out ten more, I'll get a bonus and time off. I'm about ready for a vacation."

If my score breaks fifty, I'll earn a special break—specifically, two weeks off, plus a bonus and a raise on top of that. I would be given flextime and authorization for limited discretionary action. Five downed makes an ace; fifty downed makes an Ace of Aces.

Unfortunately, testing Type 95 muddied my memory, and I'm also sniping from artillery bombardment range. That meant that inevitably many of my scores have been unconfirmed. Still, at least some had been acknowledged, so I'm currently at forty.

The best thing is that with these clean results, I won't be put on trial for war crimes. Even after the war, it won't be a problem—how about that! In other words, killing one person is a crime, but killing a pile of them gets you a medal. Most people would find that inconsistent, but economic theory makes it acceptable.

"Once I get it, I'm going to take it easy and splurge on gourmet food. Sorry, guys. I want to go have a leisurely beer hall lunch."

"I can't even tell you how jealous I am," Sergeant Schones jokes with a nod. Corporal Serebryakov and the other team member smile, somewhat at a loss.

That's how it's meant to be, though. After working to accomplish something, she should be allowed to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Winners on vacation even get to eat tasty food in the rear. There are opportunities to dine with corporate managers. In short, she would be in the best environment to build social capital. Just wonderful.

"I feel bad since you're accompanying us as a favor, Sergeant Schones, but…well…first come, first served."

Schwarkopf, concerned for their lack of manpower, dug into his hurting personnel pocket and lent them this squad. Maybe it's only two people, but in mages, that's more than a little muscle. It also means that the Empire still has the resources to make a considerate gesture.

In other words, I still have time to fall back to the rear. If I don't take my chance to go back now and get stuck here till I'm worn down, all that would be left of me is happy times in a psychiatric ward. I definitely don't want that, so I have to make winning the war my objective and be ready for anything.

…Can we win?

True, the Empire is a war machine of unparalleled precision. Just like the Germany I knew, if they fight against a single country they'll surely win. Fighting on two fronts is not impossible. But though those facts speak to their military strength, they don't guarantee victory.

After all, this is one nation against the world. It's less like a world war than me versus the rest of the world. Can such a war be won? Honestly, it'll be difficult.

"War is only fun when you're winning," Tanya says.

"Oh? And here I thought you would enjoy the despair of the defensive line."

…I could consider it if it would advance my career.

But frankly speaking, I can't rapid-fire miracles. Type 95 is the crystallization of a curse. Even if I use this thing—and I don't want to—it doesn't mean I'll win for sure.

"I'm a soldier. I go where I'm ordered." Company staff fulfills directives. Similarly, if military officers don't swear loyalty to their country, at least as a formality, they're in violation of their contract. Tanya was forced to fight this war. Who would take such a gamble with their own free will? Her answer is short and to the point—

"Sorry to butt in, Lieutenant, but you don't like the war, either?"

—but perhaps unexpected, because Corporal Serebryakov takes the rare step of joining their conversation, looking puzzled.

"Of course, Corporal. Even I prefer a quiet life. What about you, Sergeant Schones?" "I'm with you, Lieutenant!"

Maybe it's part of his plan, but Schones jokingly gives a smart-looking salute. Mainly he does it to ease the other pair's bizarrely tense mood. Nicely accomplished. No wonder they say an outstanding NCO is invaluable.

"Well, that goes without saying. All right, time to plan the welcome party."

After wrapping up their conversation, Tanya rapidly ascends to combat altitude. Her wish for tranquility and her hatred for the ones who disrupted it are making a storm in her heart. Who actually wants to carry a rifle and fight? Her fury is intense.

Let this cursed world go to ruin. Well, let everything except me go to ruin. If that's not possible, may I at least avoid ruin, she mutters in her head as she races across the sky.

"What's your plan, Lieutenant?"

"Let's give them a grand reception. We'll treat them to lead and mana glow."

Lead is a government expense, and wasting the budget will lower her evaluation, but investing resources via sales effort is part of business. The costs of entertaining clients can be expensed because they are a necessity. So if something is a necessity, they can use as much as they want as long as they get results. If mages can mass-produce enemy corpses, no one would complain about how many bullets they use.

I do worry about the stomachs of the finance officers. I feel genuinely bad when thinking of their stress. I really do, so I hope the people in charge of mental health will help them out.

My job is to spend money to defeat the enemy; the finance officer's job is to come up with the money. And our mental care is the task of professional support personnel. In an ideal world, everyone contributes in their own way. We should praise order and applaud economics for foreseeing this evolution of the division of labor.

"Should we check if they have passports and visas?" "Yes, let's."

That's right, the law of war shouldn't invalidate border control laws. If someone crosses the line the Empire has determined to be its border, it goes without saying that the newcomer will have to go through immigration. How careless of me, needing a reminder from my subordinate.

"Okay, that's our signal to begin. How about we make it a contest?"

"Hmm, then let's say whoever downs the most enemies wins. If you can beat me, I'll steal the commander's secret wine stash."

I remember when I peeked into his tent one time, I saw wine so fine it looked totally out of place. He must have won it in a card game, but it shouldn't be too hard to convince him to give it to someone for a job well done. If he refuses, I'll just abandon civil tactics. Sure, I may not be old enough to drink, but I still know a good bottle when I see one.

"Well then… All right, if Lieutenant Degurechaff snags the win on her own, we'll all give you our allowances for today."

"Hmm, not bad. Not bad at all. You're on!"

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THE RHINE FRONT

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My head felt heavy, and my consciousness was hazy. My unit? My subordinates? I no longer had the wherewithal to worry about them.

It was all I could do to stay conscious through to the next second. Though I'd quickly deployed a refracting optical decoy, I was still performing more evasive maneuvers than was deemed safe.

Though I just barely managed to maintain control, the company, proud to be one of the Republic's finest, was at the mercy of a single enemy. Everything had happened so fast.

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!"

First was the distress call notifying us of enemy contact. I'd never heard the forward controller scream like that.

"Break! Break!"

The commander instructed us to scatter. Nothing would be stupider than all getting shot at once from a distance. Even though we obeyed immediately and had trained to pull it off, it wasn't enough. I'd cocked my head, unable to spot the enemy, and my buddy got his upper body blown off.

"Sean?!"

"Bandit! Angel 12!"

"Angel 12?!"

I scanned the sky for the source of the attack, and when I found the bastard, I was speechless. Twelve thousand feet, an altitude that made the practical limit of six thousand for mages look like nothing.

Not only was it a harsh environment where oxygen concentration was roughly 60 percent of ground level, but the bigger problem was that you would run out of mana. The aerial mage limit for practical maneuvering was six thousand for good reason.

"Impossible! It's not a fighter plane?!" "Fucking hell, it's definitely a mage."

We wondered if it was maybe a plane, but no, there was no doubt about it. We detected mana particles and glow. It was definitely an aerial mage.

The air up there was thin. The temperature was low. Running out of mana was fatal. Acclimating to the altitude was also a hurdle. While it was hard to believe, the enemy mage had overcome all those things and was managing to fight a war. I couldn't stop thinking that the leisurely soaring figure was an incarnation of imperial military might.

"Climb! We're climbing! We'll engage at eight thousand feet!"

My unit was completely exhausted. Eliminating an enemy observer squad had worn down their concentration, and they were also worn down from being in the air so long. If two forces of equal numbers and strength fight, the odds are in favor of the side that is better rested—that's simple logic.

The Empire's aerial mages were known for being elite, whereas our side had a tendency to make up for inferior quality with quantity. And this enemy was something else. Even if we were to attack at peak performance, we'd probably still be in for a tough fight. For starters, approaching an enemy at twelve thousand feet was impossible.

"Captain, that's—!"

"There's no other way!"

In theory, aerial mages had a slight edge over aircraft.

But that was at altitudes below six thousand feet. Aerial mages were able to use magic, but they were still just flesh-and-blood humans. In combat at high altitudes, they were nothing but targets.

"…No wonder the AWACS is going crazy." "Right. That guy's…insane."

I see. The enemy mage is far from normal. I could understand why the airborne early warning and control system (AWACS) was going nuts. I mean, according to the standard aerial mage rules of engagement, it wasn't possible to ascend beyond 6,800 feet. No, it actually is impossible. Six thousand feet was the limit for a proper fight to the death with computation orbs and rifles. I'd heard that in the rare cases of aerial mages from highland regiments, fighting above seven thousand was possible, but this was on another level.

This was twelve thousand. At that altitude, even fighter pilots would need oxygen or they'd black out. The air was simply too thin. The only reason you would ever climb that high was an extreme emergency evasive action.

Even if we managed to shoot down the enemy mage, getting back would be hopeless. But this time, we had to go.

"If we can't suppress that imperial, our ground forces won't be able to get home." "You're right… We have to do this."

It was true for more than just aerial mage battles: Letting the enemy get you from above was fatal.

So all we could do was climb. If we couldn't at least get him in range, we would be stuck as prey. Whether we would eventually run or fight, we first had to climb. But running wasn't an option. We had to buy enough time for the ground troops to retreat, otherwise it was possible we would all be wiped out. We were left with no choice from the start.

"This is all-out war. Don't even worry about getting home."

I would fight until my mana was depleted. Most importantly, I had to avenge Sean. I couldn't let this enemy get home alive.

"Crush that mage! Don't stop until that bastard crushes you!"

Was it an order or a scream? Either way, our commander was determined.

We would either take out the enemy or be taken out. Those were the only two choices. "Bravo, engage!"

The Bravo team joined the fight. We would probably all be destroyed, and I wanted to curse God in spite of myself. I felt like a real sorry wretch thinking this pain in the ass could have backup.

"…Oh my God!"

But my long-distance observation formula showed me something even worse. I searched for our target's mana signature in the library. The hit I got was far more horrible than reinforcements.

Registered Mages, also known as Named… The aerial mage world was small. A company was only twelve members. Even a battalion was only thirty-six.

That was the kind of world it was. If you shot down five enemy mages, you were called an ace, and when your score hit fifty, you'd be recognized as an Ace of Aces. Units with six or more aces and individuals with over thirty kills crossed a threshold. Crossing that threshold meant being registered by foreign armies and perceived as a formidable adversary.

Named dominated the battlefield. The only viable ways to counter one were to employ overwhelming resources or an equally strong or stronger Named. To the men on the battlefield, nothing was more reassuring than having friendly Named mages in the sky. For those reasons, enemy Named were given individual names and caution was urged.

To the Republic, "Registered Mage: Name—'Devil of the Rhine'" meant sheer calamity. A registered enemy aerial mage had been recognized as a strategic threat. Among them, the Devil of the Rhine was the one everyone was most eager to avoid. It had been a mere two months since he had been spotted on the front, yet he had already accumulated over sixty points.

Especially horrifying were his skills with heavy mana spatial detonation and precision optical sniping formulas. Units would lose half of their soldiers just from falling for the "fish bait" strategy snipers commonly use. The nastiest thing was that many of the mages had suffered wounds that nearly kept them from returning to base at all.

We didn't want to lose such precious resources, so aerial mages received intensive care, but almost all of them died. Not only did that consume vast amounts of medicine, but also it tied up the medics, which led to a shortage of care for ground force soldiers.

On top of that, losing so many mages was becoming an issue from a tactical point of view. A single actor was taking on an entire military and their strategy. What could you call him besides a devil? He had to be taken out by any means necessary.

Naturally, it would be reckless to engage at twelve thousand feet, but at eight thousand, we had a shot. We may not have been at 100 percent, but we did have the numerical advantage. Plus, the guy was flying at twelve thousand feet—no matter how extraordinary you were, that was impossible to do without pushing yourself too hard.

Degurechaff definitely didn't expect the enemy unit to come charging at her.

They had looked so exhausted and scattered. She couldn't imagine them having any energy left, so she thought she would pop them one by one from a distance, but apparently she counted her chickens before they hatched. Charging under these circumstances was utterly reckless, but it was also terribly effective.

"Devil of the Rhine! Today, today we take you down!" "…I don't believe we've met."

Tanya is bewildered, but for some reason, the enemy's will to fight is centering on her.

Genuinely puzzled, I proceed with my tactical considerations. My opponents' maneuvers are nimble and unpredictable. Precision sniping will no longer work.

It would be best to switch to either explosion types capable of targeting an entire area or spatially targeted guided formulas. Target locked. Adjusted for relative velocity. She unconsciously chooses the optimal attack using the Elinium Type 95. Rebuild neural linkage network, ion concentrations normal, meta-motor cortex parameters updated. All systems green.

"Nicht!"

Multiple faint early targeting mana signals detected. Formula types include invisible guided shots and spatially casting blasts. The enemy is close enough to engage, but I was distracted by pointless chatter and didn't realize!

Signal alarms scream in my head. I immediately start up casting processes in parallel using the Elinium Type 95 cores. Even though I know it will cause a system imbalance, I pour energy in as fast as I can. Meanwhile, she begins erratic evasive maneuvers automatically. Just as she gets out of the way, her previous position erupts with mana glow.

Some of the formulas seem to have been explosion type, and the shock waves create wild turbulence.

"Mmkay. What's all this now?"

I think maybe it's a highland unit, but can they climb straight to eight thousand feet without acclimating? Despite the vertical distance between them, they have me in range. Worse, I'm outnumbered. If they're going to charge, then it seems the enemy is tougher than I thought. Convinced of my opponents' skills to some extent, I immediately create an optical decoy.

While casting that, I initiate evasive maneuvers in order to prevent them from predicting my flight path. But even after a number of illusions, a magic shot comes flying at my actual body. How is their disciplined fire so accurate so fast?!

"That shot missed? What a monster!"

These guys are obnoxious, shouting like that on the open channel. Wait, they must be doing it on purpose. They're capitalizing on their numerical advantage. They want to distract me with radio chatter, but I won't fall for that again.

Shooting magic in volleys is a combat style that imperial mages avoid, since they rely more on individual skill.

The Empire boasts superior quality, but the Republic has always made the most of their numerical superiority—for example, the perfectly ordered formation before her eyes. These have to be some of the Named we're always warned about.

I check the mana signatures against the library. My irritating guess was right on the mark. These guys are such a pain that the combat instructors warned everyone about their fire discipline. I am clearly going above and beyond my pay grade.

"CP, this is urgent. The enemy company is Named. I say again, the enemy company is Named."

"CP, roger. I've got reinforcements heading your way. Don't work too hard." Well, that's good news.

I should probably be happy they didn't tell me to go die. In military creature society, courage and a loud voice are the things that get you praised. When you're in an insane group that respects the foolhardy over the cautious, it's rough to be the sane one. But this is all for my advancement. I have no choice.

"Reinforcements acknowledged, but this is my battlefield."

I don't want to, but I have to at least rush them. Otherwise, it could adversely affect the evaluation of my achievements in this battle. Now that I recall, I wonder how the Kwantung Army was able to puff up their self-image so much. That said, I can definitely get ahead if I act like them. Nobody who calls themselves a patriot is worth a damn.

True patriots demonstrate their love for their country through actions, but the fakes express it in words. To get ahead, you have to do both. Patriotism is a really handy tool, and tools are meant to be used.

"Our mission is to eliminate the rabble violating the Empire's borders regardless of whether they're from the Entente Alliance or the Republic—we don't discriminate."

Elinium Type 95 comes with a curse that corrodes my mind the more I use it. In exchange for performance, I have to exalt the self-proclaimed god, Being X, with all my might. The only silver lining is that since I'm employing the Kwantung Army promotion doctrine, I can at least make it sound like patriotism.

But there's really something wrong with the army if the more you copy those big- talking Tsugene guys, the more you advance. That's gotta be why there are soldiers who actually want to take part in something as stupid as war.

Really, no one should long for peace and an idle life more than soldiers.

"Spatial coordinates acquired, potential evasion paths calculated, expansion chamber magic filling normally."

They want to leverage their numerical superiority and hunt me down. I doubt taking out one at a time will work against Republican mages. If I try, they'll probably gang up on me. They take pride in their perfect coordination, after all.

I was unbelievably lucky to have the chance to pick them off and thin the herd at first. I can't expect an opportunity like that again, so I need to switch up my tactics. In short, I just need to treat this clump of guys as a single target instead. Time for some giant killing.

I don't need to fiddle around with my aim. I can just target the whole area. "CP, requesting theater warning for spatial detonation."

"CP, roger. Will issue a spatial detonation warning."

Elinium Type 95 is capable of storing mana via its system of four synchronized cores. With an explosion formula cast at full throttle operation with that stock of magic, it's possible to superpose interference across the entire war zone. Of course, that means full throttle operation of a flawed orb—something stupid is bound to happen.

"Sergeant Schones! Prepare for impact!"

In addition to blowing up friend and foe indiscriminately, it would litter the area with mana noise and reduce visibility with smoke, isolating soldiers. It would throw organized combat into chaos, making all coordination impossible, so I can't just go using it willy-nilly when fighting on a team.

The tactic is so disruptive, in fact, that the instructor unit was kind enough to comment that apart from self-destruction, there was no use for it. If, however, the fight is one versus a group, it can blow away the group's organization and turn the fight into one versus multiple individuals. Thus, the verdict is that the formula causes nothing but problems in team battles but it's not bad to have on hand when low on manpower.

"Be gone, impertinent foes. This is our Empire, our sky, our home."

I should be able to get positive evaluations for proclaiming my nationalism to the entire area.

Coincidentally, the military also generally approves of religious faith, so I might as well make use of Being X's curse to get ahead. I'll just have to accept it this time, even if I scream in agony as my freedom and dignity are trampled.

"If ye come to disrespect the fatherland, we shall pray unto God."

The enemy mages begin spreading out. They create a zone of interlocking fire from either side; rather than concentrate their shots on Tanya, they plan to torture her to death in midair. On top of that, as a precaution against ordinary explosion formulas, the spread is wider than usual.

"O Lord, save the fatherland. O Lord, grant me the strength to defeat my nation's enemies."

They can pin me down even after all those intense maneuvers up this high? These guys are war crazy. Geez, if you like it so much, you should just split into two sides and kill each other.

Why do they have to get other people involved? Did no one teach them not to be a bother? There had to have been some major flaws in their education. Education decides a child's future; they need to take it seriously.

Or maybe they're rational, economical people like me, using war to advance their careers and aiming to survive. Wait a minute. If that's the case, shouldn't I do my best to negotiate for a profitable outcome…? How could a logical, economically minded person like me nearly forget the pursuit of profit? Is war so harsh that people lose all reason?

Profit is everything; that's self-evident. In short, negotiation is key. If you blow up the other party before you start the dialogue, there won't be any of that.

By the time this dawns on Tanya, she's overwhelmed by how easily her reasoning had been impaired by war and how far she'd gone down the path to losing her humanity. Unless your hobby is fighting to the death, killing someone without getting anything out of it is pointless. Right, this isn't a zero-sum game, so building cooperative relationships should be theoretically possible.

Then instead of earnestly slaughtering one another, it would be more logical to rig the game. We'll move from a savage world of killing and being killed into a world of reason. Surely the fabled "win-win" solution is possible.

We can't go overboard. Just as economists were able to determine through statistics that Japan's national sport was riddled with fixed matches, our deception will one day be exposed, but by the time a third party sees through our plot, the fighting will be long over. Economists have plenty of other things to be working on during a war, and most of the time those things are extremely important.

"Save us from the heathen invasion. O God, grant me the strength to slay our enemies."

I have to just keep singing meaningless praise to make it look like I'm using a formula. That way I can conceal my intentions from CP for a while. If this goes well, all I have to do is settle the negotiations while they can't tell what I'm doing due to the mana noise.

Things are coming together. Noting that, Tanya thinks for a moment and then decides that the proper time for her message might be at hand.

Perhaps they will open the door to negotiation, and things will go well for both sides. No one can call themselves an adult if they are bound by preconceptions. Maybe she's only been looking at Republican soldiers as stereotypes.

People are more than appearances. Surely we need to gain a thorough understanding of people's true inner selves to interact with them properly. All individual personalities are one of a kind and thus deserving of respect.

Even in the middle of a war, if it might be possible to negotiate with someone, you should be sincere with them. Of course, negotiating with the enemy will naturally get you court-martialed. Forsaking combat is treated the same as fleeing before the enemy; you have no way to talk yourself out of the death by firing squad that awaits.

However, if I can avoid needless combat as an upright individual, I'll accept the personal risk. If I can make myself understood, I'm willing to forgo opportunities for promotion and time off. I'll earn them by defending myself from war-crazed maniacs.

Most importantly, the amount of risk and labor involved here is clearly unfair, given my salary. I have no obligation to do work above my pay grade.

In the unfortunate event that I can't make myself understood, I'll have to take them down and have a nice vacation eating tasty food in the rear. It's a crying shame I can't drink wine, but the region back there is famous for the way it prepares saute´ed fish. I'm sure it'll be exquisite.

"Attention! You are trespassing on the Empire's territory." For now, let's start with a couple benign remarks. "We will do our utmost to defend our fatherland, because behind us are people we must protect."

Apparently a soldier's duty is to protect their country's people. Though some armies are violence machines and some belong to emperors, soldiers really are usually protectors of their nation. Well, there are also cases like Prussia, where the army possesses the state instead of the state possessing the army, so it's not a hard rule. But the generalization sure sounds good.

"Answer me this. Why do you wish to invade the Empire, our homeland?"

She says it like a reprimand, but she actually wants an answer. I'll get the negotiation ball rolling. I may be talking to the enemy, but this is still innocuous enough that I can explain it away.

I wonder what their response will be, but all I get is a barrage of curses and a hail of bullets. Are these guys really just a bunch of dumb, war-crazy animals? I can't help but doubt their sanity.

So these people aren't modern entrepreneurs I can calmly pursue a rational outcome with? Or perhaps they, too, have lost their humanity in the war? If that's the case, how sad. That means I have to play along with these war-loving fools—the worst possible scenario.

She wants to request overtime pay, along with extra compensation for being placed in this hazardous working environment, but she doesn't know who to invoice… I realize it's immature to throw a fit, but I want to cry.

"This is CP with a warning for the theater. Watch out for mana noise."

CP is kind enough to issue the warning Tanya requested. And she has accumulated enough mana. All right, if these guys are logical, economically minded fellows, they're sure to value one over zero.

Who knows? Maybe they're the prudent types who won't take a risk while the radio signal is good. Even if they get bombed first, rational fellows like that will undoubtedly choose a reasonable solution if they survive.

At least, I would choose a reasonable solution. Maybe I should get this over with.

Knock it off with the hesitation and delays and get things moving. Focus on controlling all the mana I saved up and accept the noise in my thoughts.

"O saints, believe in the blessings of our Lord. Let us be fearless."

Tanya feels drained at the sudden release of loaded mana. She wants to scream as all the energy is sucked out of every one of her cells, but Elinium Type 95's curse prevents it. Still, she can't get over how weird it is for pain to be forcefully converted into religious ecstasy.

The sensation of joy and agony blending to rattle your mind is a horror beyond description.

"Lament not your fate. Oh, the Lord has not forsaken us!"

The full-body pleasure and the uncomfortable deprivation of my freedom finally reaches an intolerable level. If she could, she would curse him, but her mouth is probably only capable of praise. It annoys me, but the one thing the commies got right was to call religion a drug.

The Chicago school of economics says drugs should be regulated by the economy.

That said, my problem isn't that I want to stop but can't, it's that if I stop, I'm likely to die. It's the biggest pain in the ass. The Chicago school doesn't consider the case of a drug where if you quit you instantly die.

"At the distant end of our journey, let us reach the promised land."

A process similar to a thermobaric explosion starts up instantaneously. The mana has reached its pressurization limit and gushes out at an immeasurable rate. As the boiling magic explodes into freedom, the scattering mana makes contact with the open air and triggers an unconfined magic explosion. The abrupt changes in atmospheric pressure could collapse lungs and cause pulmonary congestion, and the combustion drops the already low oxygen concentration to fatal levels.

Oxygen deprivation and carbon monoxide poisoning at eight thousand feet would cause even the hardiest aerial mages to black out and fall. Anyone who manages to maintain consciousness would experience agonizing pain. Collapsed lungs, carbon monoxide poisoning, and the complications from the steep drop in oxygen hurt like hell.

"Ngh…gaghk…gagh…"

Even Degurechaff, who was out of range, has trouble breathing as the oxygen concentration falls. If the mages in range are still able to fly, that won't last long. The free-range magic explosion creates mana noise over a wide area.

Not only does it cut off communications, but also it makes sustaining flight formulas difficult, so continuing the battle is impossible. Although smoke limits her visibility, it's easy to imagine the state of her opponents who have received a direct hit.

"Attention, fighters of the Republican Army: This battle is over."

So Tanya attempts to suggest they surrender. She has to wonder if after all that there are any survivors, but it doesn't cost her anything to try.

Well, if there are no survivors, I can take my accomplishment of annihilating an entire company and enjoy a tea break in the rear.

"If you surrender, we'll guarantee your rights as prisoners according to the Worms Convention."

The Republican Army, which had a strong tendency to rely on numerical superiority, had extraordinary faith in their Named. They could put up a fight against the imperial elites, after all. Due to their rarity and strategic value, they were deployed in the most critical battles, and their bravery was known far and wide.

The 106th and 107th Reconnaissance Mage Companies of the Forty-Second Magic Brigade belonging to the Fourth Aerial Mage Division were also famous for their skills. Until recently, at least.

"The tactical council regarding the recent annihilation of the 106th and 107th Reconnaissance Mage Companies is now in session."

Initially, the Republic had assumed that the Imperial Army's powerful magic units, including the Named, were deployed on the front lines against the Entente Alliance, so it should have been impossible for its Named and equally elite troops to be wiped out.

And yet, that was what happened. It happened despite their overwhelming numerical advantage—and at the hands of a single mage. When the news came in, no one could believe their ears. They thought it had to be some kind of mistake.

"While the 106th and 107th Companies were engaged suppressing enemy observers, an enemy mage unit came to intercept them."

They had sent Named units out of necessity due to the long-range nature of the invasion. The mission was too difficult and strenuous to give to anyone else. As hard to believe as the news was, if a numerically inferior unit had inflicted massive damage on them, it was possible it would have repercussions for the entire war.

It was no wonder the ranking members of the General Staff, who understood that fact, looked so grim.

"What I'm handing out now is a report combining the logs from recovered computation orbs and survivor accounts."

The expressions of the magic officers who had done the analysis were even darker. To prepare the data, they had had to review the computation orb logs and recorders.

The debriefing of the survivors was limited since some of them were severely injured, but what they had heard was shocking.

If the information hadn't come straight from half-dead survivors, it would have been hard to believe. No, they wouldn't have wanted to believe it.

"…Anyhow, first please take a look at this recording of the battle." "Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!"

That was the emergency distress signal used when encountering an unexpected enemy. The frontline combat controller, whose job was to remain calm and clearheaded at all times, was shrieking. It might have been funny if it had been a newbie, but he was a veteran. He had been the first to report 106th's defeat and the one to request assistance for retreat. Thanks to him, the survivors of the 106th and 107th companies could be recovered.

"Break! Break!"

The screen, though awash in static, showed the unit promptly following their commander's order. The aerial mage officers who had done the analysis still found it difficult to accept the reality of what followed.

At that moment, according to the log, the user was sniped from a distance far greater than was thought possible. It was hard to believe.

The 106th was performing erratic evasive maneuvers. "Sean?!"

The screen kept jerking around due to sharp changes in flight path. During that short time, several soldiers were shot out of the sky.

"Bandit! Angels 12!"

"Angels 12?!"

And then, incredibly, an attack from twelve thousand feet. They had already received this information as an emergency report. The issue was that an imperial mage had climbed to double the current standard. If it was true, all of their aerial mages would be rendered virtually powerless.

"Of all the… It can't be."

No one was sure who had spoken, but the sentiment was universal. The number twelve thousand momentarily paralyzed their brains. It was too extraordinary.

In fact, the unit had wondered if their opponent was a fighter plane, but it was undoubtedly a mage.

After performing a series of optical-processing techniques on the video, they had managed to make out the standard-issue Imperial Army rifle and signs of an unknown computation orb.

The distance kept them from getting a clear view of the enemy soldier's features, but they could make out an incredibly small silhouette. Still, the way that mage cruised so calmly, like the ruler of the sky, told them no one could interfere.

Then it was confirmed that the 106th's opponent was a Registered Mage. Even worse, this was a new Named who had recently appeared in the theater and rapidly racked up achievements. All details were unknown. They didn't even know what sorts of tactics this unfathomable threat would use, much less how to counter them.

They had kicked Intelligence's butt to get a reinvestigation under way, and so far they had found several unconfirmed reports that had been previously dismissed as frontline rumors—things like a lone enemy soldier taking down an entire company, a mage flying at an impossible altitude, and so on.

It was a war zone, after all. They understood some of the intelligence coming in was confused, but it was too bad the unusual nature of their opponent was delaying their identification attempts.

"Damned Devil of the Rhine!"

"Cut it out. Captain Cagire, who is the Devil of the Rhine?"

"An unknown enemy Named. We can currently identify them only by their magic signature."

The intelligence officer had paled at the sudden question. If they were only able to identify this enemy by magic signature alone, that meant they knew nothing. This was as good as admitting to the other high-ranking officers present that everyone in Intelligence was incompetent.

They could get the gist of what had happened by analyzing the logs of the computation orbs used in battle. In other words, either the intelligence officers had neglected their duties or nothing had been recorded.

"Did you analyze the logs?" The chief of staff, who was running the meeting, asked the obvious question. Essentially, Are you bastards so inept that you couldn't even do that much?!

"We've inspected seventeen, mainly from recovered orbs of mages who were shot down, and the survivors have all been debriefed." The response from Intelligence, however, made it clear that they had done a proper job. They were the ones who sent the notice that an unconfirmed mage had inflicted heavy damage.

They formed a special task force and even launched an operation to retrieve the bodies of fallen mages who hadn't been recovered. As a result of that effort, they were able to recover a number of computation orbs and investigate the wreckage to see if there was any salvageable data.

…But they didn't find anything useful.

They had a mountain of evidence indicating the mystery mage's existence, but they had no idea what he was like.

"…So only a magic signature? What does that mean?"

"Almost no one survived an encounter close enough to see him. The majority of people who lived were shot down while they were still outside of firing range."

Every mage that approached the Devil was hit with enough force to leave them with full-body burns. When the computation orbs were retrieved afterward, the tough outer shells had melted, and their cores were damaged. To inflict that level of damage with conventional weapons, you'd have to pull out either the big guns or a metric ton of explosives.

There was a mage out there who could both eliminate opponents at close quarters with overwhelming firepower and snipe precisely at great distances. This Named had been classified as a strategic-level threat, and although they didn't know the mage's identity, they had registered the Devil of the Rhine in their library by magic signature alone.

The "Devil" alias was given out of the hatred and fear of an opponent they couldn't see. And it had only been two months since the first sighting in this theater. Yes, if the records were correct, the Devil had been deployed just as the Republican Army had attacked, and had already scored more than sixty.

Troops on the front line had even sent an earnest request for a Named extermination squad composed of their own elites.

"Moving on, this is footage recorded by a computation orb moments before it failed. Miraculously, the member of the 106th it belongs to survived."

The video showed an enemy figure casually evading the volley fire of an entire company. The shots seemed so unlikely to connect that everyone wondered what the soldiers were aiming at. Incredibly, despite the cross fire, the enemy was flying so calmly it looked almost graceful.

"…Is that…dancing?" The movements were so mesmerizing that someone murmured unknowingly.

A spectacular amount of magic glow filled the air, but the enemy dodged its many sources with elegant ease. Irritatingly, not a single shot seemed to hit.

They didn't know who had come up with the alias, but Devil of the Rhine was very fitting. No ordinary person could weave through a setup like that and fight back without seeming to be in any danger.

"Is that mage too quick for our disciplined fire to land any shots?" "Could their mobility really be that much better than ours?"

The Republican Army had developed their fire discipline in response to the known superiority of imperial mages. Working as a team, its troops could shoot down the overconfident enemy mages who tended to stick out.

Although it was a doctrine premised on numerical superiority, the Republican Army considered it a solution. It figured there wasn't a mage in the world who could stay in the air once the barrage began.

"The Devil evaded spatial detonations, too. Most likely after detecting the attack during early targeting and getting out of there with no time to spare."

"You mean the enemy performed evasive maneuvers in a few seconds or less? Wouldn't that mean this mage could dodge all guided magic attacks?"

The basic concept in disciplined fire was to use a large volley of guided missiles to severely limit the enemy's ability to evade and try to get a direct hit. At the same time, the unit would estimate the velocity of their opponent and use exploding formulas along a wide area in their flight path to catch them.

If they couldn't lock on to or measure their opponent, however, it would be almost impossible to shoot effectively. They fought like a team—organized and continually coordinated. In other words, against an opponent on whom those tactics didn't work, there were far fewer benefits to fighting in groups, though not zero.

The officers in the meeting gasped as their chests tightened. Not only had the observed mana value of the enemy computation orb gone way past the limit, but the mana was reducing—concentrating—and amplifying. Collisions of mana triggered by overlapping compound interference were creating…multiple glows?!

A single imperial mage had called on enough mana for several casters.

"The observation apparatus also returned a value that was off the scale." "Absurd! If that's the case—"

His comment cut off abruptly. They were all witnessing data that indicated a mana fixation reaction was occurring. The immeasurable profusion of mana denoted a phenomenon that mages and nations had attempted to achieve but finally given up on.

In theory, it was impossible for a cast mana phenomenon to access spatial coordinates. Attempting fixation was madness. Nobody thought it could be done.

"…It can't be! Impossible!"

The technology officer, who understood the significance better than anyone else, began denying reality, as if he had come unhinged. This was no longer mage technology but something from the realm of myths.

"If ye come to disrespect the fatherland, we shall pray unto God."

The zoomed-in figure shocked them all. The picture may have been blurry and full of static, but what it showed was unmistakable.

"…It's a child!"

The mage could still be described as quite young, yet she proclaimed annihilation and doom. Together with the mana reading, her cry was an omen of destruction.

Supposing this god you pray to exists—is it the devil or the god of destruction? Everyone cradled their heads, inspired to cling to the Lord.

"O Lord, save the fatherland. O Lord, grant me the strength to defeat my nation's enemies."

However, the sentiments were pure. Her gaze was utterly innocent. Could she really be an enemy mage? She was only looking to God for help.

"Save us from the heathen invasion. O God, grant me the strength to slay our enemies."

Should we really not be allowed to exist? they wanted to ask. Her gaze was that pious and judging.

"Attention! You are trespassing on the Empire's territory."

She spoke with the solemnity of a shrine maiden delivering a divine message.

"We will do our utmost to defend our fatherland, because behind us are people we must protect."

What she said was backed by a sense of responsibility. It was as if defense was her only duty. And they could feel her fervid desire to protect the ones behind her.

It was to fulfill that duty that she had stood before them.

"Answer me this. Why do you wish to invade the Empire, our homeland?"

Perhaps the 106th had sensed disaster; they concentrated their firepower to stop her with all their might. They tried to prevent her from casting even a little longer.

"O saints, believe in the blessings of our Lord. Let us be fearless."

But reality was cruel. Fate was not on their side. Assuming God existed, he was smiling on her.

"Lament not your fate. Oh, the Lord has not forsaken us!"

The converging mana suddenly began to flood the observation apparatus with noise. That meant there was enough mana accumulated to agitate space.

"At the distant end of our journey, let us reach the promised land."

It was as if her words were both the key and Pandora's open box. The officers watching stopped thinking entirely as the monitor emitted a dreadful flash. Eventually, the computation orb was damaged, and the video cut off.

"…Dear God, have mercy on our souls."

O God, is this…what you wanted?