"129 days until discharge!!! Hail to the damn 'Spearhead'!!!"

For the countdown, an old school blackboard, clearly discarded by someone, was used, hanging on one of the walls deep inside the black, rain-faded hangar.

Shin looked up from his tablet to the playful inscription, written in colorful chalk. There was a mistake—it was actually 119 days remaining. The countdown was conducted by Kudjo. Every morning, from the very first day of service, he unfailingly wrote a new number on the board.

Ten days ago, Kudjo died.

Shin glanced briefly at the halted countdown and returned to the maintenance report. Ensuring that his juggernaut was already repaired, he headed towards it at the other end of the hangar, passing rows of sleeping machines.

Shin's appearance, at first glance, revealed his colorful origin: blood-red pupils, like all Pyropes, and jet-black hair—an unmistakable trait of Onyxes. The boy's veins were a mixture of noble bloodlines from the Rubers and Aquils.

Noble features of his face were overshadowed by an unnaturally indifferent expression for his age, imbuing a coldness. His slender build and porcelain-white skin hinted at a high lineage—Shin's ancestors were aristocrats in the days of the former Empire. He was dressed in camouflage uniform of ash-sand color—forests, plains, and swamps prevailed on the eastern front, but pilots were given only the equipment that had been in the Republican reserves for years. A sky-blue scarf was visible under the unbuttoned collar. It was an unacceptable freedom for a serviceman, but there was no one to reprimand him for his inappropriate appearance.

Repair work was in full swing, and the noise of machinery echoed from everywhere, accompanied by irritatingly loud arguments of workers. Someone was playing basketball with modified rules—two on two. Judging by the cheers of the fans, the game was popular. Mixed with the general cacophony were sounds of a broken guitar—seems like it was playing some old anime song. Kino, sitting in the open cockpit of the juggernaut, flipped through a porn magazine. Spotting Shin, he raised his hand.

They were on the front lines, but today there were no battles, so the entire base personnel enjoyed relative freedom.

Strictly speaking, today the processors were supposed to patrol the adjacent territories—at least that's what the report Shin submitted to the curator said—but in practice, patrols never happened. In theory, patrolling was indeed an extremely important part of military duties, but in this unit, there was no use for it. Several people expressed a desire for a stroll and went to the ruins of the nearest town to replenish supplies, while the rest guarded the base (namely: cooking, cleaning, laundry, working in the field, or feeding chickens in the backyard) and simply spent their time at their leisure.

Shin heard furious stomping of boots, clearly rushing in his direction, and the entire hangar shook from an ear-splittingly sharp scream, capable of scaring even a tank.

"Shin! Shin'ei Nouzen! How many times do I have to tell you, you bastard?!"

Kino, as nimble as a cockroach, crawled out of the cabin and squeezed into the darkest corner. Shin calmly replied:

"What else?"

"What else? I'll show you what else, Gravedigger! You...!"

The man looming over him like Cerberus belonged to the technical maintenance team. He was about fifty, with streaks of gray already visible in his coal-black hair, sunglasses glinting on his head, and his work jumpsuit smeared with oil.

The commander of the Spearhead maintenance brigade, Lev Aldrecht. Shin was 16, already considered part of the senior generation of processors, but Aldrecht could be confidently classified not just as senior, but as a true old-timer, as he was one of the few remaining from the time of the first draft nine years ago.

"What the hell, why does your juggernaut end up in shambles after every sortie?! The muffler drive is shot again, how many times have I told you the suspension is weak, and you need to be more careful, huh?!"

"Sorry."

"Do you think you can get away with apologies?! I'm not asking for apologies, I'm asking you to finally listen to me! If you keep this up, you'll be dead soon! I'm short on spare parts, so I won't be able to fix anything until the next resupply!"

"Backup juggernaut..."

"Oh, of course, the squadron commander has a second juggernaut in reserve specifically to outdo the first one every time! To hell with the other processors, let them repair three times as often! Yes, Your Majesty?!"

"The caste system of the Republic was abolished 300 years ago, during the revolution..."

"I might be able to get your machine running again, you piece of crap. But to fix everything you've screwed up, I'll need another juggernaut for spare parts, and I don't have it, and there's nothing I can do about it. It'll be a few more days until resupply, and by then, something might break during the next sortie! What will you do then, huh? Pray? Maybe ask to postpone the next attack for a hundred years, or order a mountain of scrap metal, huh?!"

"Faid was supposed to collect the wreckage of Kudjo's juggernaut," Shin said indifferently.

Aldrecht fell silent for a moment.

"In principle, this guy's machine probably has the parts I need... We could try to construct one from several broken juggernauts. Hey, what do you think about that? And you, how are you doing with this? Well, you'll have parts from the deceased guy's machine."

Shin tilted his head slightly and lightly patted the body of his juggernaut, "Gravedigger." Just below the headlight of the cabin was his emblem—a small headless skeleton with a shovel in its hand.

Aldrecht's face broke into a sad smile.

"Not the first time, eh, Gravedigger?"

Shin nodded, gritting his teeth, and shifted his gaze to the boundless spring plain spreading beyond the raised shutters of the hangar.

The azure sky was immaculately clear, without a single cloud, as if it absorbed everything that rose into the air, filling itself with bright colors, becoming higher and deeper. Below stretched a field adorned with a mosaic of blue cornflowers and fresh greenery—a vast cemetery, scattered with the slumbering remains of hundreds of thousands of "Eighty-Six."

Their fate didn't lead them to the grave. The burial of non-existent soldiers was strictly forbidden, as was the retrieval of their bodies.

Swine in human guise had no right to mourn fallen comrades and couldn't find peace even in death. Such were the laws of the world, built on their homeland nine years ago.

"Wasn't it Cujo, torn to pieces?"

"Yes."

He had been blown up by a makeshift infantry mine — from a distance, it looked like a stuffed explosive frame with dummies of limbs and a head for a wounded soldier. It happened in the evening, during a rescue operation for the wounded.

"That's good. He probably managed to move on, don't you think?"

"Perhaps."

Shin didn't believe in heaven or hell, but he hoped Cujo could go somewhere far away from here.

Aldrecht grinned widely.

"Lucky him, dying under your command... Same goes for these guys..."

The ball flew through the hole-ridden net, and the hangar erupted in joyful shouts. From the side of the farmer's field, the off-key chorus of voices joined the sounds of the guitar.

You wouldn't see anything like this in any other unit, and Aldrecht knew it.

Life from one raid to another. Legion's daily patrols hinting at an impending attack. Nerves like taut strings, constant anxiety and fear, with comrades dying in every battle. All efforts were focused on surviving the day, with no room for pleasures or everyday affairs.

Yet, these soldiers sentenced to constant assaults think about anything now, but not about danger.

"...It's all thanks to you, Shin. Thanks to you, they can behave like this."

"And also thanks to me, other processors have to be repaired three times more often."

Aldrecht chuckled lengthily and gave Shin a mocking glance from under his glasses. Shin just shrugged.

"Yeah, well... when will you start taking me seriously, I wonder."

"Even if I do, I'm genuinely ashamed. I just don't show it..."

"You fool. Keeping you bastards alive and bringing you back to base — that's our brigade's main task. I don't care how many machines we have to sacrifice or how many hours we spend on repairs for that!"

Finishing the last sentence, Aldrecht looked embarrassed and averted his gaze.

"...So, um, I heard the curator has been changed again. And how do you like the new one?"

Silence fell.

"...Mmm..."

"'Mmm'—what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, that's roughly the impression I had."

Curators changed so often that he no longer noticed the difference. Besides, the para-raid was originally designed so that the processor didn't realize the curator's presence.

Some curators voluntarily refused to perform their duties, and sometimes their work was blocked by "Podenkas." The headquarters were too far away and couldn't constantly manage the troops, so processors had long learned not to rely on curator assistance and generally paid no attention to them.

Ultimately, curator duties boiled down to monitoring processors. A special collar allowed them to connect to soldiers' consciousness at any time and place, monitor their words and behavior, and eliminate potential troublemakers. Curators had become mere overseers.

Recalling his rather inactive communication with the authorities over the past week, Shin parted his lips slightly. The new curator brought at least one change.

"There's more paperwork now. Looks like I'll have to constantly compose patrol reports."

"Yeah, Shin, only a brazen bastard like you could have the audacity to send them the same report from five years ago. Because they don't read..."

He hadn't even changed the dates and titles, and the results were complete nonsense because there simply were no patrols. He hadn't been caught in the deceit even once — until the new curator appeared. Shin definitely wasn't prepared for that.

"I think you've made a mistake and sent me an old document." He remembered that polite tone and the high, bell-like voice, and sighed softly. "It's just carelessness, it happens," — followed by carefree laughter, emanating friendliness and warmth.

"On the day of the curator's appointment, she contacted us via para-raid to greet us. Stated that she wants to get to know us better, so from now on, we'll have conversations every day at the same time. Among republican military, that's rare."

"Oh, a honest person then. Must be hard for them. Unfortunately."

In this world, justice and ideals meant nothing.

"...Yeah."

As if hearing a call, Shin suddenly turned his gaze to the spring field visible in the distance.

"Ta-daam! The real 'filthy swine dwelling beyond Gran-Meur'!"

"Poor joke, Hart," Seo snapped irritably.

They were in the barracks' kitchen area. A huge pot filled to the brim with berry jam bubbled away. Seo volunteered to keep an eye on it and now, as usual, was sketching something in his sketchbook. He was from the Jades, as indicated by his nephrite-green eyes and golden hair. His small stature and fragile build didn't betray the fact that he was supposed to turn 16 this year.

Hart — one of the copper-haired Rubies — dragged in the carcass of a huge boar. Placing it under the backdoor, he comically spread his arms as if awaiting the audience's reaction, but the disheartened tone of his squadron comrade made him scratch his head. In the end, Hart bothered to go hunting in the nearest forest, although no one asked him to.

"Hmm, that's not the reaction I was hoping for. Actually, you were supposed to laugh."

"I just felt... uncomfortable... well, never mind."

Setting aside his sketchbook, Seo approached closer and carefully inspected the catch. The sight was impressive. It clearly took a juggernaut's help, but even with that, capturing such a huge monster alone was clearly not easy.

"He's just enormous!"

Hart smiled as if he had been waiting for those words.

"Isn't he?! Tonight we'll have a barbecue! We should invite Raiden — where is he, by the way?... And Anju. I'll arrange for someone to take my place at dinner."

"Uh, only Shin can make it tonight. Raiden went to the city for supplies. Anju's in charge of laundry, and the other girls went with her."

Hart quickly glanced at Seo.

"And when did they leave?"

"Seems like... right after breakfast."

"So, it's already lunchtime."

"Yeah."

No matter how much laundry piled up from all the inhabitants of the base, washing couldn't take up the whole morning, especially if done by six people.

Moreover, they usually did laundry outside, on the riverbank, and today the weather wasn't spring-like hot.

Hart bustled around.

"...So, they went swimming! Right now, there's a heavenly sight unfolding on the riverbank?!"

"If you keep it up, you'll end up in real heaven. Just warning you. They all took weapons with them."

Hart immediately sobered up. Seo took a deep breath to focus and stirred the contents of the pot with a wooden ladle. Deciding everything was ready, he checked again how well the berries had boiled down and turned off the heat.

No sooner had he covered the jam with a lid than the para-raid activated.

A raid device was implanted in the back of each soldier's neck, and an information block in the form of a cuff was worn in the ear, allowing them to switch between interlocutors and change or record data. Both devices began emitting illusory warmth, and Seo touched the cuff with his fingertips to switch to reception mode.

"Activate. Uh..."

His green eyes instantly took on a serious expression. Hart, standing nearby, stopped smiling too and pressed the cuff to his ear with one hand. Exchanging glances, they turned to their common interlocutor.

"Shin. What's happened?"

On the bank of a fairly full river, not far from the laundry area, six members of the "Spear's Edge" squadron's female contingent were cheerfully splashing in the water.

"Kay, what's up? Stop standing there like a pole, come here!"

It was Krena's voice, who had torn herself away from the game of tag to cheer up her combat buddy, hesitatingly standing at the water's edge. Krena's chestnut, typical for Agates, hair was cut into a short bob, and her cat-like golden eyes testified to her kinship with Topazes.

She took off her military jacket and tied it around her hips, remaining in an olive-gray tank top with a round neckline. The clothing didn't conceal the graceful curve of her waist, but Krena wasn't embarrassed — there were only girls around.

"No, you know, I was thinking and... somehow I feel uncomfortable..."

With black hair and black eyes, like all Orientals, Kaye stood out with a delicate build and ivory-colored skin. Despite her masculine manner of speech, she looked feminine. The soaked tank top clung tightly to her figure, and judging by her flushed cheeks, it embarrassed her quite a bit. Her hair was gathered in a long ponytail, resembling a knight's helmet ornament, and cascaded into the hollow between her collarbones — overall, her appearance was quite attractive.

"Well, I mean, is this really... Well, what are we doing here swimming while the others... Oh!"

Anju splashed water on her friend. Her long hair streamed down her back, gleaming with a bluish silver hue. Anju didn't take off her jacket, but she unzipped it down to her navel, which was quite a bold move for such a, generally, modest girl. The color of her hair indicated kinship with Adulars, but among her distant ancestors were also Celestials, who gave her eyes a pale blue shade, thus classifying her as "eighty-six" — the Republic recognized only pure-blooded whites, without mixtures of other races.

"Kaye-chan, you're too serious. Relax, we've already finished the laundry."

Immediately, there was a clamor of female voices around.

"Shin understood everything too and allowed us..."

"Oh, finally, the heat, I laughed for the first time in a long while..."

"If you think about it, he's not that bad, our commander in the iron mask..."

Glancing at Krena, Anju suddenly burst into laughter.

"Krena, forgive me, I didn't think at all! Today neither you nor Shin had any duties — we should have taken advantage of the opportunity and left you two alone."

Krena immediately blushed as if caught off guard.

"What nonsense! I don't understand what you're talking about!"

"And what did you find in him anyway? You can never tell what he's thinking."

"That's why it's nonsense!"

"By the way, Kaye-chan, what do you think?"

"About Shin? Hm. I think he's not bad. All this secrecy and masculinity, mm..."

"W-w-wait, what did you say, Kaye?!"

Krena seemed completely bewildered, and Kaye suppressed a smile. Truly, everything is written on her face. — Well, why not. Since everyone is indifferent to him, why shouldn't I try to make a move on him? Even tonight! You know, there's an old Eastern tradition called "yobai"..

— W-what, Kaye?! I... it's not like I have feelings for Shin, but this... I think it's not right! Just think, she pretends to be the modest Yamato Nadeshiko*, but herself...

Krena completely lost her composure, and the girls exclaimed in unison:

— KRENA, THAT'S SO CUUUTE!!!

Realizing she had been caught, Krena hesitated for a moment, then exclaimed:

— Oh you!..

— Whoa, well, isn't that something.

Rustling came from the bushes behind them, and a tall, slender figure emerged. Daiya had blonde hair and blue eyes — typical of all Sapphires.

Daiya was a guy.

— K-Kya!!!

Under fire from supersonic weapons from the nearest representative of the fairer sex (by the way, all girls are born with this weapon) and dodging a stone thrown his way, Daiya hurriedly retreated back into the bushes.

— Hey! Who's throwing things over there? I almost...

— KYAAAA!!!

A single shot turned into a carpet bombing, and Daiya fell silent for good.

While the other girls hurriedly got dressed, Anju peeked into the bushes.

— So what did you want, Daiya-kun?

— Maybe you should still ask Krena if everything's okay with her after all your "cuuuute" stuff?

— Everything's under control, Daiya-kun, — Anju replied coldly.

— Oh, sorry, I was wrong, stop this indifferent tone, otherwise I'll cry...

Zipping up her collar with Velcro, Kaye glanced at the other girls, made sure everyone was dressed, and then said:

— Phew. You can come out now, Daiya. What's the matter?

— Kha-kha. I solemnly announce that as of today, I've started working as a courier.

Apparently, he came to deliver some message. Krena, whose feminine figure was once again hidden under her military uniform, pouted.

— Actually, we have the pararaid for that. Why did you have to come all the way here?

Daiya scratched his head quickly.

— If I had contacted you through the pararaid while you were engaged in silly girl talk, it would have been inconvenient for both of us — especially if I stumbled upon you right in the middle of discussing your love affairs. "I love Shin..." — and so on...

— What?!

Hearing Daiya mimic her with a sweet, breathy tone so uncharacteristic of her, Krena blushed crimson. Kaye and all the others immediately joined in:

— Well, I can't thank him for eavesdropping, but otherwise he's right.

— We had fun, but Krena-chan really felt awkward...

— Especially since she really said that.

— Yeah. And if Shin decided to contact through the pararaid at that moment and heard that! I'd like to see that!

— Oh, Krena, forget about Shin. That death god in the iron mask is completely incapable of emotions, and it's not cute at all!

— Aaaah, I didn't say that!! Stop it!

— KRENA, IT'S SO CUUUTE!!!

— You're all just idiots, aaaa!!!

— Completely losing it, Krena was shouting at everyone, including Daiya.

Shaking with laughter, Kaye finally asked:

— So, what's the message?

Daiya's expression changed immediately.

— Ah. It's from Shin.

After these words, all the girls suddenly became serious.

"Man shall not live by bread alone*."

A few thousand years ago, one infamous figure who passed himself off as a savior said that, but there's truth in it nonetheless. Humans cannot live without sweets, coffee, music, games, and other pleasures. However, this seemed to be unknown to the white republican pigs, and the soldiers they abandoned in hell were fed only the simplest fodder, like some kind of livestock.

On the other hand, they wouldn't survive without daily rations.

— So, Faid. That's the question.

Once again, they were combing through the ruins of the city in search of warehouses with non-perishable goods, abandoned vegetable gardens, feral livestock, and entertainment items.

Having cleared a small area of the city square from debris, Deputy Commander Raiden was arranging cans of synthetic products brought from the base on the concrete surface. Among them, a can of preserved bread, obtained from the strategic reserves at the local administration warehouse, held a place of honor. Raiden was tall, strong, and wore an old, worn-out field uniform. Short steel-colored hair, typical of Eisens, framed his roughly chiseled face.

Opposite him sat his old friend, the scavenger... During combat operations, he accompanied the juggernauts and supplied them with additional ammunition and energy packs. Four short legs were attached to the scavenger's square body, giving him a somewhat clumsy appearance. An optical sensor in the form of a lens was directed at the items in front of Raiden.

— What's this junk?

— Beep.

Faid swiftly extended his telescopic limbs forward and tossed away the cans of synthetic food.

Watching the white pile of cans make an arc in the air, Raiden lunged for the remaining bread. Even the drone understood that this was junk. Can the white pigs, calmly calling this synthetic substance food, sink any lower?

To ensure that the "eighty-six" were provided with everything they needed right on the spot, each concentration camp and military base had its own synthetic food production plant, as well as an autonomous industrial factory.

Underground cables led to these factories and plants from behind the wall, allowing them to supply energy and adjust production settings. Such a high-tech and autonomous supply system may seem wasteful, yet it was developed by the whites specifically for those they now unashamedly called "pigs." The amount of goods produced in this way barely covered their minimum needs, and for some reason, synthetic food resembled plastids and had a surprisingly disgusting taste.

It was precisely for this reason that Raiden was here now, amidst the fog-shrouded ruins of the city, which had been abandoned nine years ago but where one could still find decent food. Fortunately, there was no need for patrols in his unit, so the soldiers had enough time and energy packs to explore the ruins and even bring juggernauts along to transport what they found.

— So, Faid. This is junk, and we don't need it. You must find as much useful stuff as possible, including proper food, and take it back to base.

— Beep.

Raiden got up from his crouch and set off, while Faid hurried after him, clattering loudly with his four limbs. The scavenger was ordered to search for the remains of various equipment to gather recyclable materials — they could be used for making ammunition — and return to base immediately after reaching full capacity. The order Raiden just gave was slightly different.

"A scavenger" was the nickname for those drones that replenished pilots' supplies during battles, scavenging the wreckage of juggernauts or similar scavengers. In peacetime, they continued to circle around battle sites in search of debris, which earned them their nickname — no processor called them anything else. Scavengers were reliable allies in battle and significantly reduced the risk of running out of ammunition or energy packs, but the greed with which they pounced on the remains of their own mechanical "comrades" was reminiscent only of scavengers.

Faid had belonged to Shin for almost five years now.

They had become inseparable from the moment the young man found the scavenger battered but not completely broken after one of the battles and brought it back to base. That time, they turned out to be the only survivors.

Scavengers were practically incapable of learning, so high-level mental activity or a sense of duty could not be expected from them. Nevertheless, Faid seemed to prioritize Shin above all else and moved with him from one squadron to another, never leaving his side during battles. Compared to other scavengers, which couldn't adapt to their surroundings at all, such behavior was unprecedented and even reminiscent of loyalty. Faid belonged to the first model of drones of this type, launched onto the battlefield at the very beginning of the war, so it could be assumed that its quirks were explained by its advanced age and accumulated experience.

As a reward for years of brave battles and faithful service, Shin gave his scavenger a name — Faid. It resembled a dog's nickname, like Spot or Rover... Well, the commander clearly had something wrong with his head.

— Beep.

— What?

Faid unexpectedly stopped, and Raiden turned around.

Looking carefully to where the optical sensor was pointing, the young man noticed a huge tree growing amidst a flowerbed in the shadow of a pile of debris. At its roots lay scattered human skeletal remains.

— ...Ah.

"That's what he noticed," thought Raiden as he approached the remains. Decayed military uniform. A shattered arm still gripped a assault rifle, covered in red rust, and an identification tag on a chain hung around the neck. This wasn't from "Eighty-Six." Most likely, it was someone from the regular republican army who became a living shield and died nine years ago.

Following close behind, Faid emitted an electronic signal again, meaning "should I take something?" Shin had developed a bad habit in his scavenger of finding and bringing back valuable items of the fallen during lulls between battles — strictly forbidden to retrieve the bodies themselves.

Pausing for a moment, Raiden shook his head.

— No need... He'll have enough of these kinds of burials.

Raiden knew this tree. Sakura. They grew in the Far Eastern part of the continent and always bloomed with flowers in the spring. This year, at Kaye's initiative, the entire base personnel had already gone to the main street of the city to walk along the blossoming alley. But this sakura was different from any Raiden had ever seen. It possessed a stunning beauty, characteristic only of those trees that bloom on the day of the spring equinox. The pale pink clusters of blossoms were as beautiful as the full moon illuminating the darkness.

Gazing at the woody canopy and the flower bed where the unknown soldier found peace, Raiden thought that he didn't want to bury the remains in the dark earth.

Though the deceased was Alba, he fought to the very end, and therefore didn't deserve to be treated like cattle.

Raiden briefly bowed his head in a silent prayer. As he lifted his head, the cuff began to emit an illusory warmth.

— All members of the walking group. Can you hear me?

— Seo? What's happened?

The voice was so clear that it seemed as if its owner was standing right next to them. The message was intended for those who were currently in the ruins, and Raiden responded for everyone.

— Forecast has changed. Rain is coming soon.

Raiden immediately squinted. Far to the east, in the sky above Legion territory, one could see a tiny spot, easily missed by anyone who didn't have as sharp eyesight as the deputy commander. The spot gleamed silver and was gradually expanding.

Those were Pods — drones of the Legion, resembling butterflies in size and shape. Pods could absorb and distort radio waves and visible radiation, skillfully concealing troops from radars, so their appearance always meant an imminent Legion attack.

— When?

— In about two hours. The nearest group to us has merged with another, which was behind. Probably resupplying. Once they're done, they'll be here.

Though the group was the "nearest," it was impossible to see it from here. Nevertheless, even though all radars were already blocked, Seo reported on the Legion's rear situation as if he could see everything with his own eyes... These clearly weren't his words.

— Understood. Returning immediately... Chio, Kroto. Did you hear that? Assembly at exit to Route 12.

— Copy.

— Today, the herd is without a shepherd again, so we'll minimize casualties. Everything, of course, depends on their route, but I think we can set up an ambush around point 304, and herd them all in at once, — Seo chirped cheerfully.

Issuing instructions to the members of the search group, Raiden headed towards his Juggernaut, standing nearby. After Seo's words, the young man's lips curled into a grin, resembling a predatory snarl.

— Just sheep, huh? Let's shoot them like in a shooting gallery.

Of course, it wasn't as simple as that, but a confrontation with lone "sheep," capable only of elementary combat maneuvers, was still much preferable to battling those same sheep under the control of a "shepherd." In any case, the thought that there wouldn't be serious enemies made it easier.

"Today, the god of death favors us..." Raiden thought, but then he hesitated and frowned.

It's interesting what the god himself thinks about this.

The red-eyed god of death, roaming the battlefield in search of his lost head.

When Raiden and his group returned to base, the remaining 18 Juggernauts were already prepared for battle. Seo stood opposite his machine right at the entrance to the hangar, and upon seeing his comrade, he flashed a cunning smile, making him look like a mischievous cat.

— You're late, Raiden. I was starting to worry that you blew yourself up on a mine.

— Not late. And stop with the mine jokes.

— Ah. Sorry.

Kujo, blown up by a foot mine, became the third casualty in two months of this squadron's existence.

Processors died very often. Over 100,000 recruits were called to the front annually, and within a year, no more than a thousand remained. And yet, these losses were incomparable to what the parents of today's soldiers endured, who fought the enemy without any machines, in close combat. Armed with old anti-tank grenade launchers or explosives, people simply threw themselves at Legion machines — it was the only possible tactic. It's said that mortality back then was so high that more than half of those fighting on the frontlines could die in a single day.

Compared to the horrors of those times, the losses of this squadron were simply minuscule, but they were still at the forefront, on the field of the fiercest battles.

Not a single battle went without losses.

But no one could ever get accustomed to deaths.

— Are you ready? Attention.

At the sound of that quiet but well-heard voice even from a distance, all members of the squadron stood at attention simultaneously.

Shin appeared as suddenly and inconspicuously as the moon appears in the sky. He stood in front of the just completed operation plan, outlined on a transparent overlay taken from the map of the first area of military operations.

He was pale and dressed in an old sand-colored camouflage uniform with captain's insignia.

The blue scarf tied around his neck, which Shin never parted with, was one of the reasons he earned his infamous nickname.

The god of death was clearly trying to hide his neck.

— Reporting on the situation.

The crimson eyes of the commander froze in icy indifference, reflecting the soldiers standing opposite him. After the succinct but very clear briefing, during which Shin reported on the number of enemies, the planned route, and tactics, the processors began to settle into their Juggernauts. All the pilots were about 15-20 years old, and their faces and bodies still bore childish features.

Tossing the last scarce spare parts into the far corner of the cabin, the pilots awakened their Juggernauts from their short slumber. There were 21 of them in total.

The autonomous unmanned armored combat mech on several supports with the possibility of manual control, M1A4 "Juggernaut."

Four long and thin segmented supports. A small body, shaped like a doll of some insect. Light brown armor, resembling old bones in color and serving to protect the pilot. Two additional heavy machine guns for close combat, a pair of "cat" claws, and a smoothbore 57mm gun at the rear.

Overall, the Juggernauts resembled hunter spiders, but the two additional front weapons and the main gun on the back rather resembled scorpion claws and tail. These machines could be both indispensable allies and the last refuge of "Eighty-Six."

Shin opened his eyes. He was in the cramped cabin of a Juggernaut, hidden in the shadows of the ruins of the abandoned city's church — this position was perfect for an ambush.

The shelling zone ran along the main street, surrounded by several squads lying in ambush. They were distributed in such a way that their lines of fire did not intersect. Shin's first squad and Seo's third squad were to take the first blow, while Raiden's (second squad) and Kaie's (fourth squad) were ordered to hold back enemy fire. These two squads were positioned on the left and right sides of the street. The fifth squad armed with high-explosive artillery under Dai's command and the sixth sniper squad under Krena's command covered everyone else and were positioned at the very end of the street.

Glancing at the low-resolution optical screen, Shin squinted, trying to make out the number of enemy vehicles and their battle formation.

In the Juggernaut's cabin, like in any combat vehicle, there were numerous switches and liquid crystal status sensors, as well as a control lever. The only peculiarity of the Juggernaut was that its cabin's lantern was made not of bulletproof glass, but of ordinary armor plating, so the pilot absolutely couldn't see what was happening outside. Orientation was done using a three-dimensional optical screen and an information holographic window, but this didn't help to alleviate claustrophobia and fear of darkness. Pilots often called their cabins "coffins."

As expected, the enemy troops marched in a textbook formation — a diamond. Scouts were in the vanguard, eliminating all immediate defensive measures, followed by units of four combat units — one in each corner of the diamond. Everything was exactly as in the textbook. Although the Legion outnumbered the Juggernauts in both quantity and level of technology, this time there were no drones in their ranks capable of intricate maneuvers, so their movement was relatively easy to predict.

Suppressing the enemy with firepower was a standard tactic, unchanged for many years, before which predictability or unpredictability of actions always took a back seat.

Simple attempts to determine how many times the enemy outnumbered them couldn't give a proper understanding of how immense the Legion was, the magnitude of which was felt just in its name. Battles with it always followed the same pattern: mindless and desperate attacks of those willing to die with honor, constant maneuvering, and suicidal attempts to hold back the overwhelming onslaught of the enemy by small groups of Juggernauts.

Suddenly, Shin remembered a line from the sacred book that had been dormant somewhere in the depths of his memory all this time. He heard it from someone many, many years ago.

Who was it?

He couldn't recall the face or the voice anymore.

He only remembered the moment when he saw and heard that person for the last time.

He remembered the words.

"Only by turning to the evil demon can one hear the Lord."

A quiet, barely noticeable muttering from Shin was heard through the para-raid, drowned out even by the slightest interference, and Raiden immediately straightened up, lowering his outstretched legs. His Juggernaut was hidden behind a pile of rubble. The main screen was as gray as the cabin's interior, and the radar was in passive observation mode.

Shin was speaking in a language other than the Republic's, so Raiden didn't understand what he said. "Dicit," "ei," "legio," "nomen," "mise" — only individual words could be discerned. Seo irritably replied:

— Shin, are you reading the Bible now? Tasteless. And this quote is doubly inappropriate right now, damn you!

— What did he say?

— There, he either asked the demon or the evil spirit for its name, and it replied that its name was Legion because there were many of them.

Raiden fell silent. It was indeed inappropriate.

A new interlocutor joined the para-raid.

— Curator one to all squadron members. I apologize for the delay.

The voice, transmitted through auditory synchronization, was as beautiful as the ringing of a bell, and belonged to a girl about their age. She was their new curator. The previous one was so afraid of the God of Death that he decided to leave the service.

— The enemy forces are approaching. I suggest intercepting them at point 208...

— Gravekeeper — Curator One. I'm aware of the enemy advance. The troops are deployed at point 304, — Shin replied coldly.

The girl took a sharp breath.

— How swift... I didn't expect anything less from the Gravekeeper.

"Nothing special," thought Raiden, hearing the genuine admiration in the girl's voice. Shin and the other processors of this squadron had significant combat experience, as evidenced by their unique callsigns.

Most processors in combat used callsigns consisting of the unit's name and number. Personal names not fitting this description were only given to veterans who survived beyond the first year of battles, numbering only 0.1% of survivors. Unlike the majority who perished, these fighters possessed special talents and abilities, resembling higher beings who somehow pleased the demon or the God of Death and were now sentenced to constantly hone their skills in battle.

The death of such beings was a rarity. While other processors died at every step, veterans engaged in countless battles with death and emerged alive each time. Their unique callsigns were a testament to the respect and fear felt towards them by everyone else. It was the only acknowledgment of their greatest mastery. They were both heroes and devils, and each of them could boast a collection of enemy and friend deaths.

The "Spearhead" was full of veteran processors who had spent four to five years on the front lines. The guidance of a princess from the castle meant nothing to them.

Yet Raiden was slightly impressed.

Point 208 would have been perfect for an ambush if they had just learned about the Legion's attack now. It had been less than a week since the appointment of the new curator, but it was already clear that she was not just a kind princess.

Alarm signal.

Vibration sensors on the Juggernauts' supports activated. A holographic window appeared in the cabin, zooming in on the image.

Right in front, on top of the sun-drenched hill, over which the main street ran amidst the ruins, a lone shadow appeared. In an instant, the entire ridge line was engulfed in a steel cloud of machines.

They were here.

The radar screen was covered with enemy unit markers in a second.

The Legion forces, resembling technologically enhanced creatures, covered the city like a corrosive cloud, painting the gray ruins in the color of steel. It was heading straight for the ambush.

All enemy drones were spaced perfectly at intervals of 50-100 meters. Even the smallest of them, the "Ant" scouts, weighed over 10 tons, although it didn't seem so at first glance. The city was filled with the quiet hum of numerous engines and the barely discernible sounds of marching supports — this cacophony resembled the rustling of grass.

What a strange and majestic sight.

In the vanguard were the "Ant" reconnaissance drones, whose pointed shapes rather resembled piranhas. They moved swiftly on three pairs of limbs, rotating two anti-infantry machine guns of 7.62 mm caliber from side to side. Composite sensors were located in the lower part of the ants.

Behind them were the "Gray Wolves" — hunter drones designed for close combat. Their appearance was quite intimidating: attached to a shark-like body were six limbs, the front pair of which was equipped with high-frequency blades made of dark steel, faintly gleaming in the sun. The top of each gray wolf was crowned with a 76-mm multi-shot anti-tank missile launcher.

Closing the battle formation were the "Lions" — heavy armored tanks weighing about 50 tons. They featured four pairs of articulated limbs and impressive smoothbore 120-mm cannons deployed while on the move.

High in the sky, a swarm of vultures circled, obscuring the sunlight like a cloud, while directly above the ground hung a suspension of small particles, resembling scales or snowflakes. These were the waste products of the Legion's metabolism — all that remained of drones, recycled by liquid micro-robots performing the functions of its circulatory and nervous systems.

The ants entered the firing zone. Approaching the concealed first squadron closely, they passed by without noticing anything. The Lions commanded the troops, but like everyone else, they failed to detect the ambush and fell into the trap last.

That was it. They fell for it.

— Fire.

Before Shin could finish the command, the Juggernaut pilots pulled the triggers and began firing at the positions they were instructed to target.

The first strike on the vanguard was delivered by the fourth squadron, while the enemy's rear group came under fire from Shin's squad. Vulnerable ants and lions with pierced rear parts of their hulls — their most unprotected spots — hit the ground and immediately switched to combat formation, while the remaining Juggernauts began their artillery barrage.

Explosions. Roars. Scattered metallic debris. Sprays of silver blood from micro-robots against the backdrop of black smoke.

All Juggernauts left their initial positions.

Some emerged from hiding to continue the artillery bombardment with doubled force, while others, without removing their camouflage, surrounded the enemy drones attacking the squads that struck first. As soon as the enemy machine found itself completely surrounded, the pilots who served as bait swiftly retreated and moved on to maneuvers around another drone.

The Juggernauts were nothing more than a pile of junk.

Their aluminum alloy shell couldn't even protect them from heavy machine gun fire; in terms of maneuverability, they could only outperform a tracked tank, and their main gun was very weak, inferior in all parameters to the Lions' armament.

The walking supports of the Juggernauts were too fragile, and there were only four of them — developers either lacked time or technology (the complexity of controlling the movement system increases proportionally with the number of supports) — either way, this led to the fact that for their weight, the Juggernauts pressed too heavily on the ground and constantly got stuck in the swamps, of which there were particularly many in the eastern district. These were not the combat robots one could often see in movies or anime: swift jumps, maneuvers, and even takeoffs were just a dream. In general, the Juggernauts were laughably similar to simple coffins on legs.

Machines as weak as these couldn't win in open combat, not even against ants with their minimal armament, let alone gray wolves or lions. The only possible tactic for the Juggernauts was to compensate for their weak maneuverability with numbers, terrain features, and camouflage, as well as attempting to hit the enemy from behind or the side, aiming for the least protected areas of their armor. "Eighty-six" learned these tricks in the blood of fallen comrades, continuing to hone their techniques and pass on knowledge to newcomers for seven years now.

The processors of the "Spearhead" unit, distinguished by their extensive combat experience, mastered this tactic better than others. The members of the squads were so well-coordinated with each other that they didn't need either symbolic signs or means of communication: they could accurately read each other's intentions and always acted in unison in combat.

Moreover...

The corners of Raiden's lips lifted almost imperceptibly into an unpleasant smirk.

The "Spearhead" had its own patron saint — the God of Death.

A juggernaut with a headless skeleton on its hull moved in the shadows of ruined buildings and piles of debris.

Without ever lingering in the enemy's sights, it confidently approached its chosen target. The Gravedigger skillfully hid in the enemy's blind spot and dealt with ants, gray wolves, and sometimes even lions: the tactic was to lure the target into the firing zone of comrades.

One Shin was enough to disrupt the Legion's formation. The squadron leader could deeply infiltrate enemy ranks and engage in close combat — in this, he had no equal, even among pilots who always led the charge.

The radar screen was covered with enemy dots, but Shin no longer paid attention to it. In the young man's eyes, there was not a moment's fading crimson alarm signal, but a cold expression froze on his face: he was trying to determine his next victim, as befits the god of death, the harbinger of doom. A trace of sadness flickered in his calculating gaze for a moment.

"It seems I won't be able to get rid of myself. Again."

Casting aside unnecessary thoughts, he fired his gun and vanished into the explosion's flames. The enemy drone fell silent, and Shin had already shifted his focus to the next target, now giving instructions to his scattered comrades throughout the city.

— Third squadron, retreat to the southwest and make sure the attacking machines follow you. Fifth squadron, wait at your current position. As soon as the enemy enters the firing zone, take care of them.

— Daiya here, copy that... Anju, need to reload while we have time.

— Seo here, understood. Just don't shoot at us, Black Dog!

— Hart here. Enemy at 270 degrees, distance 400 meters. Fire as soon as they appear from behind the walls!

— Copy that. Kino, need assistance.

The ruins trembled from the distant roar of cannons.

The half-ruined building looked eerie: several gray wolves climbed its walls like unknown creatures, clearly hoping to catch the processors off guard. As soon as the last drone jumped to the ground on the other side of the wall, the Juggernauts hidden among the ruins opened fire with machine guns, filling the air with enemy debris.

Shin scanned the area for a new target and suddenly noticed movement.

— Cease the attack. Disperse formation.

The order was unexpected, but all the processors instantly complied, without asking foolish questions. As soon as things heated up in battle, the Legion began to throw in new troops, so they were expecting another wave...

A high rumble grew in the air.

The enemy forces in the distance launched several projectiles, scattering them across the entire battlefield. The burning ground exploded and swelled like black foam.

Reinforcements consisted of "Scorpions" — long-range self-propelled artillery units with 155mm guns.

The auxiliary computer calculated the reverse trajectory of the projectiles and determined that they were launched from an area to the northeast at 30 km from the battlefield. This information was of no value because the juggernauts did not have weapons capable of engaging in combat at such a long distance. However, the terrain relief and the location of enemy forces could help determine the whereabouts of the Legion's forward observation posts.

— Curator One — to all squadron members. Sending the presumed coordinates of enemy observation posts. Three possible positions, check and clear.

Shin immediately looked up. Three points lit up on the digital terrain map. Correlating these points with the number of enemy units visible on the radar, the commander turned to Krena, who was in a sniper position among the group of buildings far behind.

— Krena. 30 degrees, 1200 m. Roof of the building, 4 units.

— Copy that. Requesting permission.

— Curator One, transmitting coordinates using a laser pointer can reveal our location. During combat, provide coordinates only verbally.

— ...Apologies.

— Another enemy observation drone appeared. Requesting to determine its coordinates.

— Right away! — the curator exclaimed joyfully.

Hearing the change in the girl's tone, Shin frowned slightly, but then refocused on the battlefield. Everything around was glowing red and torn apart by the wail of the alarm siren.

The battlefield echoed with the roar of gunfire, making ears pound, and Raiden prowled around it in search of his next prey — his juggernaut was damaged, but all of this was mere trifles compared to what processors originally fought in machines not intended for manual piloting.

Projectiles flew here and there, while the enemy forces stationed in the distance remained just as numerous. Raiden's juggernaut wouldn't be able to withstand even one burst of heavy machine gun fire, let alone anti-tank guns that would reduce it to splinters.

Beyond the ruins, a drone from someone in the vanguard was visible — upon closer inspection, Raiden noticed that part of the machine's body was shielded. The Gravedigger. Apparently, he ran out of ammunition and was waiting for the scavenger — of course it was Fyde — to resupply him.

— Seems like quite a lot.

— Oh, it's just like target practice! Enjoy yourself.

Obviously, the last remark belonged to Seo — only he allowed himself such nauseating sarcasm.

— ...There are more lions than I thought. They must have received reinforcements while restocking supplies.

Shin spoke in a casual tone, as if contemplating whether to open an umbrella. If anything, Raiden had never seen their commander worried. Not even impending death could disrupt this calmness.

— This shield is useless against me. We need to think about a plan of movement for now. And before that, it wouldn't hurt to get rid of the shield.

Meanwhile, Fyde finished reloading the magazine. The Gravedigger rose.

— I'll take care of the lions. The rest of you — cover me.

— Copy that, Gravedigger... Old man Aldrecht won't pat you on the head for this.

Light laughter. A leap — and the commander's juggernaut left the ruins.

A moment later, he was already approaching the four lions at the maximum possible speed. Without a shield.

The female curator was momentarily speechless at this insane decision, more reminiscent of a suicide attempt, and shouted:

— Gravedigger! What the hell?!

The turret of one of the lions turned. Shot fired. The Gravedigger slightly veered to the side and dodged it. Another shot. And again, missed.

Shot. Second. Third. Fourth. 120mm shells could easily turn flesh and human bodies into ash, as well as machinery, but the Gravedigger continued to dodge, steadily advancing forward. He didn't keep track of the direction of the gun — there simply wasn't enough time for that. Each of his movements was based on intuition honed over years of battles. The juggernaut resembled a headless skeleton creeping across the battlefield, making the spectacle even more fantastical.

The lion turned its entire body toward the barrel of the turret, as if losing patience. Swift leap — and it was already rushing towards the enemy, its eight limbs digging into the ground.

Despite its monstrous weight, the steel lion moved easily and silently, and just a moment after the start, it was right in front of the Gravedigger. Powerful shock absorbers and state-of-the-art linear actuators provided the Legion with unparalleled maneuverability.

Eight limbs straightened, and the lion lifted off the ground. Another second — and the juggernaut would simply be crushed.

The Gravedigger jumped.

The lion suddenly fired, but the Gravedigger had already moved aside, and, spinning in the air, landed on the ground, then soared up again. In an instant, he climbed straight onto the lion's turret, spreading his front limbs wide and extending them forward to the maximum possible length, aiming directly at the steel body beneath him.

As far as could be seen, the armor plating in the lower part of the turret was slightly thinner than in other areas.

Shot fired.

The armor-piercing shell with a minimal blast radius pierced through the armor at a speed of 8000 m/s, and the explosive detonated inside.

Black smoke billowed out of the machine, and the Gravedigger jumped down before it completely fell apart. Spotting the next target, he moved in a new direction, dodging barrage after barrage step by step. The Gravedigger managed to deploy new weaponry — now high-frequency blades were gleaming in front of his juggernaut. Although close combat weapons were characterized by high power and could be installed on any juggernaut at the processor's discretion, Raiden had not yet seen anyone besides the commander using blades — their area of ​​application was too narrow.

A lion was hit by a shell fired by one of the processors, and the pause that ensued was enough for the Gravedigger to use it as cover from the third enemy machine's barrage.

The lion, now a sitting duck, exploded, shrouding everything in smoke, which further obscured the already weak sensors of the enemy. The Gravedigger hooked onto the nearest building structure with a hook and soared into the air. The confused lion, losing sight of the enemy, aimlessly swiveled its turret, while the juggernaut landed on its turret and unleashed its blades.

— ...

In the aftermath, stunned silence hung in the air.

"I wish I could see the face of the creator of this aluminum canned sardine when they witness all these maneuvers — paralysis or at least fainting would be guaranteed," thought Raiden, warmly smiling as he watched the incredible spectacle.

Juggernauts were not initially designed for such combat. Their weapons, armor, and maneuverability were sufficient only for sluggish long-range bombardment: hit or miss — either way, a deadly ram could always be relied upon. Even the fact that a juggernaut could smash through enemies one after another seemed unbelievable.

But there was a high price to pay for it.

The weak point of juggernauts was their chassis, which couldn't withstand the stresses of battle and inevitably broke down at the end of each engagement. This flaw was well known to the Legion, and its forces often resorted to shelling the juggernauts' supports to protect their main forces — the lions. For this reason, Raiden and the others tried to avoid the lions and shorten the duration of battles to a minimum. And for the same reason, it was completely unclear why Shin was still alive. Not only did he not perish, but he also attacked the lions in every battle for the past five years. Perhaps he wasn't even human?

Raiden constantly pondered the futility of such talent.

Three years had passed since they started fighting together. For three years, Raiden had been Shin's deputy, his right hand. And although they were both "eighty-sixes," Raiden hadn't been able to approach his commander's mastery in all that time. Without any exaggeration, the headless God of Death had been bestowed with true talent. He hadn't just been lucky to survive, he was one of a kind. A hero who could destroy the Legion if given enough time and resources.

Shin was born in the wrong era. He could have been a knight from a distant past, and legends about him would have been passed down through generations. He could have become a hero of the last war involving living people, and his illustrious name would have remained in the annals of humanity forever.

He wouldn't have gone unnoticed anywhere, but certainly not in this stupid war.

Here, there was no room for respect or titles, names or notions of honor, and everyone was destined for one fate. They were disposable killing tools, unworthy even of a grave, and after death, they lay on the battlefield, forgotten by all. The only reminder of their existence were their decaying remains amidst the countless wreckage of machines.

The swarm of drones dispersed, and the sky was once again filled with sunlight. The remaining forces of the Legion began to retreat under the cover of the scorpions. Soulless machines were unfamiliar with the concept of vengeance, no matter how serious their losses. Once the number of destroyed units reached a certain threshold, and the Legion's central system concluded that the set goal couldn't be achieved, the troops immediately laid down their arms.

The Gravedigger stood atop the remnants of the lion, bathed in the halo of slanting sunbeams.

The tips of raised blades shimmered softly in the moonlight, and there was no sight more beautiful in the whole world.

After dinner, the processors were entitled to several hours of free time — except on nights when raids and sorties were conducted.

Anju finished washing the dishes in the kitchen, made coffee for everyone, and returned to the main area of the hangar. The front courtyard was bustling with people gathered from all over the base; shooting competitions were taking place there.

"So, if you knock down everything with one shot, you get the Bear King. With two shots — the Rabbit Knight. Hart-kun, you've got 7 points!"

"Phew, missed twice? Well, that's what happens when you're not friends with pistols..."

"Ooo, an unexpected challenge from Faid! All cans are now lying horizontally! What will Kino say to that?"

"Can't be... Aaand yes! Not a single hit! Next, please!"

"Me?.. Well, only if no one else wants to go right now... Tanya Kaye, I'm starting to shoot!"

"Great, two points!"

"Wow, all cans down in just five shots! We didn't expect anything less, Raiden."

"Oh, come on, it was easy."

"Oh, stop showing off! Krena, come here! Show these dimwits how to shoot!"

"Okay, I'll show you! Faid, throw away those cans, you won't get anything out of them anymore!"

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!"

"...Something's got into Faid today. The pyramid is much more challenging than usual."

"Shin, your turn."

"Hmm."

"...Oh come ooon, again with one shot, it's so boring..."

The target was made up of canned cans from the food consumed today, and the weapon of choice was personal pistols. The points won could be exchanged for Seo's drawings, who sat nearby and scribbled with a marker over yet another funny animal. Faid cleared away the shot cans and built towers and pyramids from the remaining ones.

The cacophony around brought a smile to Anju's face.

Dinner was truly royal: crispy-skinned wild boar meat, sauce made from wild currants gathered in the forest, lettuce leaves grown in the backyard, canned milk, and mushroom cream soup. It was nothing like a typical dinner in the mess hall, so everyone decided to set the table outside. When the kitchen staff finally got busy with cooking, the entire base staff came to their aid.

The evening turned out to be cheerful. Anju was especially pleased that for once, everyone had gathered in one place.

Shin found a secluded spot away from the noise and began reading a book. With one hand, he flipped through the pages, while the other crushed his trophy — a shot can. Anju placed a mug of coffee in front of him.

"Good job."

Shin glanced briefly at her in response. Anju handed a tray with coffee to the newly arrived Dai, then pulled a chair closer and sat directly opposite the commander.

Shin continued to read silently, and she noticed the thick volume in his hands. Sitting next to him was the local favorite — a black kitten with white socks, desperately trying to hook one of the pages with its paw. Anju felt like laughing.

"Interesting?"

"Not really."

Shin fell silent again, as if thinking he had said too much, and after a while added:

"It helps to distract and forget about oneself."

"...How?"

Anju smiled sadly. This was the only thing none of Shin's comrades could understand.

"Thank you. For everything."

The Raid device suddenly warmed up.

"To all squadron members. May I interrupt?" came the voice of the curator girl.

She contacted them after dinner every day for the whole week since her appointment.

"No, everything's fine, Curator One. Thank you for your work today," Shin replied.

Lowering his gaze again, he noticed that the persistent kitten had almost reached the page, and with a swift movement, he lifted the book higher.

The competition participants hurriedly unloaded their pistols and hid them in holsters. 'Eighty-Six' were not allowed to carry weapons because of the risk of rebellion. No one really paid attention to enforcing this rule, and all units freely searched nearby abandoned military facilities and used the weapons found there.

"No, thank you all, Handler. Were you playing something? If so, continue, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Just killing time. Pay no mind."

On the first day, the curator said that anyone who didn't want to talk to her could simply turn off their Raid devices. Many base residents immediately took advantage of this option and now switched to knife throwing. Several people, including Raiden, Seo, and Kaye, grabbed a mug of coffee and took the nearest tables and chairs next to the commander.

"Yes? You seemed to be having fun. By the way..."

Everyone felt the curator straighten up and look sternly at the screen.

"Mogul. I need to have a serious conversation with you."

The tone in which these words were spoken would have been more suitable for a class prefect or a class monitor scolding a slacker for misconduct than for a commander dissatisfied with his subordinates. Shin took a sip of coffee. Whether he liked it or not, he couldn't ignore the admonitions from the leadership hiding behind the wall.

"What's the matter?"

"The patrol and battle reports. You didn't actually mix up the documents, did you?... I've read them — it's all the same in each one."

Shin briefly tore his gaze away from the book.

"Did you read all of them?"

"I'm your curator, and that's part of my job."

"...Did you send them that crap again?" Raiden blurted out, not hiding his irritation. Shin ignored him and replied:

"And why do you need the data from the front line? It's pointless scribbling."

"They are needed for analyzing Legion's technologies and battle tactics, that's one of the curator's responsibilities," the girl retorted.

Her next words sounded softer:

"I understand that no one has read the reports before, so you didn't send them. The fault lies only on our side, and I'm not angry with you — I just ask you to start composing all reports properly from now on. I really intend to read them."

"Such a hassle with her," Shin thought and said:

"I can hardly read and write."

"Now that was brave," muttered Daiya.

Shin paid no attention to him and turned the page of the thick book on philosophy.

Of course, the curator couldn't have known about it. Apparently, she only now realized that the processors ended up in concentration camps in their early childhood, and the basic education they could expect there was minimal. An awkward pause ensued.

"I'm sorry. But it's even better this way; you can consider the reports as your writing practice. It will definitely come in handy someday."

"Really?"

"..."

The curator was completely embarrassed. Seo snorted meaningfully, as if to show that he could at least read letters, and threw a knife — a figure of a princess with cute piglets fell from the shelf.

Kaie cupped the mug with both hands and, tilting her head slightly, said:

"Well, why not, Gravekeeper? It will come in handy for you. You do like to read in your free time... What book is that you're holding, philosophy? It looks very complex."

An oppressive silence ensued.

"Gravekeeper?"

The curator's soft and kindly tone now carried unfamiliar authoritative undertones.

"...Understood."

"My request remains the same. And I also expect battle reports from all of you."

"...Will data from the battle recorders suffice?"

"No. In written form."

Shin bit his tongue, and nervously glancing at him, Kaie suddenly shook her tail on her head. She clasped her hands together with a light clap and bowed her head low, but the commander just waved his hand, indicating that it was his task.

The curator sighed heavily and, suppressing her irritation, returned to where the conversation began. This time, her voice lacked any trace of a smile:

"Based on this data, I will be able to develop a battle strategy. And considering that you are the elite, reports of battles with your participation will be doubly useful. Thanks to them, we can reduce mortality across the entire front line, including your sector, so I ask you to assist me in this."

"..."

Shin said nothing, and the girl plunged into melancholy thoughts. The processors didn't trust her, and there was no one to blame for it other than the curators.

Pulling herself together, she tried to ease the tension:

"By the way, this book must be quite old — did someone give it to you? Or have you had it from the beginning?"

"Heh, he's had this thing for quite a while, Curator One. He was messing around with it even before he met me," Raiden said mockingly.

The curator froze in surprise.

"Werewolf, have you known the Gravekeeper for long?"

Kaie shrugged and joined the conversation:

"Well, most of us have known each other for a long time. For example, Daiya and Anju served in the same squad since they were drafted, and Hart and I fought together for a year before that. Seo and Krena joined Shin and Raiden a year ago... so these two have known each other for... about two years, I guess?"

"Three," Raiden corrected.

The curator paused for a moment.

"...And how many years have you been on the front?"

"For everyone, this is the fourth year of service. Well, except for the Gravekeeper, he's been here the longest, it's already his fifth."

"So, the Gravekeeper doesn't have much time left until the end... What are you planning to do after the front? Maybe you want to go somewhere, see something?"

Everyone stared at Shin. Without looking up from his book, he replied in a colorless tone:

"Hm. I haven't thought about it."

"Really?.. I think it's time to start thinking about it. What if a good idea comes up?"

Shin chuckled softly. The dozing kitten immediately turned its head and pricked up its ears.

"Maybe so."