The Super High Schoolers Affording to Live in Another World! - Volume 9 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - The Second Winter  

Once the Yamato dominion government was toppled, the Resistance founded a new, legitimate administration.

However, the Freyjagard Empire wasn’t about to sit back and let that slide. Grandmaster Neuro ul Levias held the reins of power while Emperor Lindworm was off on his campaign. After stamping out the empire’s internal dissidents, the first thing Neuro did was mobilize every military asset he could into a subjugating army roughly 150,000 strong to storm the land the Yamato government had taken from them.

Yamato’s standing forces totaled less than five thousand, and even with temporary enlistment, the number didn’t reach twenty thousand. The numbers disadvantage was staggering. Yamato had managed to successfully rout an enemy force in the first battle, the night raid by the border. However, that victory was owed to a combination of two factors: the Yamato people’s incredible physical abilities as descendants of the evil dragon’s test subjects and the tactic the High School Prodigies employed. That was to be the last of Yamato’s victories. Prodigy politician Tsukasa Mikogami had described that battle as the only time they’d get to go on the offensive. Sure enough, once the subjugating army’s main force arrived, the imperials’ numbers advantage grew more pronounced still, forcing the Yamato army to retreat again and again.

Thanks to the tactical edge that fighting defensive battles while retreating offered the Yamato army, it managed to keep casualties to under a tenth of the imperial army’s. Unfortunately, Freyjagard had soldiers to spare. What mattered far more was the number of garrisons Yamato had to abandon and how far Freyjagard pushed it into its own territory. Yamato was by no means a large country, and there was only so far the army could flee.

Now, after having retreated deep into its borders, the Yamato army was forming up at the Byakkokan Checkpoint—the stronghold blocking the highway that led from the west straight into the heart of Yamato. Fort Steadfast was the only remaining bastion of note between it and Yamato’s capital, Azuchi.

For Yamato and the High School Prodigies, this was do-or-die.

The Byakkokan Checkpoint was a key strategic position on the west side of Yamato. It sealed the nation’s western plains off from the mountain road leading to its center. After getting driven back from the border, that was where the Yamato army, Tsukasa, and the other Prodigies found themselves holed up. They stationed rows of archers atop the ramparts as well as the towering, craggy mountains that surrounded and overlooked it. They deployed gunners all around the stronghold as well. Together, they all stared down the imperial army as its advance across the distant plains before them caused the very ground to rumble.

Meanwhile, the subjugating army’s remaining soldiers marched in a formation three times as wide as the mountain road the Byakkokan Checkpoint defended, approaching the Yamato forces like it was spreading its arms out wide to grab the smaller force.

The subjugating army was made up of 130,000 soldiers, and the force defending the checkpoint was barely fifteen thousand. From the Yamato side’s perspective, watching the imperial army’s approach was as jaw-dropping as a tsunami.

However, not a single one of them cowered in fear, even though the bulk of their army was made up of conscripted amateurs. That was because their supreme commander, Tsukasa Mikogami, had drilled them as he deployed their strategy of slowly whittling the enemy forces down. As a matter of fact, that strategy afforded them a golden opportunity. If you stuck a bunch of fresh new recruits into a fortress, they would be completely useless. There was a principle that was true across war, politics, and finance: The only way to avoid freezing during crucial moments was through experience. Fortunately, the Yamato people had taken to Tsukasa’s drills better than he hoped. Their seething hatred for the empire helped bolster their courage, and by the time the Yamato army got to its critical battle at the Byakkokan Checkpoint with Azuchi at their back, it had improved by leaps and bounds and was ready to face off against its hated foe.

The empire advanced, and Yamato waited, ready.

As the distance between the two armies shrank, the Freyjagard vanguard arrived at the wide, shallow river that separated the plains from the mountainous region where the Byakkokan Checkpoint stood. And as it did…the gunners stationed atop the Byakkokan Checkpoint’s ramparts and in its gunports made their move and opened fire. Round shot made from carved stone burst from every opening in the checkpoint, lanced across the river, and rained down upon the imperials. The Byakkokan Checkpoint’s cannons weren’t designed to be transported, so they’d been built large and long, and while the river’s opposite bank was over 6,500 feet away, it lay well within the cannons’ range.

Human beings were powerless against the terrifying kinetic energy those masses of stone carried. Imperial soldiers and cavalry alike exploded into fleshy chunks without the chance to scream.

However, the empire’s soldiers were battle-hardened regulars. Even when a neighboring platoon exploded, they kept formation. Round shot was designed to destroy objects with its sheer mass. While that made it extremely effective against ships and fortresses, it was little more than harassment against troops. Uncowed by the bombardment from the Byakkokan Checkpoint, the imperial soldiers pushed ahead and arrived at the riverbank.

The bald giant riding one of Freyjagard’s prized monoceros magical warhorses at the forefront of the army swept his gaze across the garrison sitting upon the opposite shore. Then squinted at it contentedly and stroked his braided beard. “That fortress is huge, and looking at it up close, it’s damn fine, too. Not even we have anything so impressive, do we, Erik?”

The middle-aged Gold Knight sitting atop the monoceros beside the giant’s nodded…

“Because nobody would dare try to invade the Freyjagard Empire.”

…then after giving his reply, laid out the battlefield data he’d looked up ahead of time.

“They’ve long since destroyed the bridge, so it won’t do us any good, but we measured the river back when this place was a self-governing dominion. Even at its deepest, it’ll only come up to our waists. We shouldn’t have any problems crossing on foot.”

Even with the facts efficiently laid out like that, the bald giant hesitated. The river depth had already been clear from examining the remains of the bridge and the color of the water. He turned his attention away from the adjutant and took another look at the stronghold. This time, he opened his eyes wide and etched it into his gaze, like he was trying to comprehend the fortress in its entirety.

“It appears to be about sixty feet tall, and at some two hundred and thirty feet wide, it’s as broad as the mountain path.

“Each of its sides is flanked by a mountain as tall as the fortress itself, and both mountains protrude out concavely in front of it.

“If we try to charge the checkpoint head-on like simpletons, they’ll rain volleys on us from the mountains on both sides. They’re so bloodthirsty, it’s giving me chills.”

“But the mountain slopes should be scalable if we put our minds to it. Couldn’t we just use them to circle behind the fort?” Erik asked.

“We most certainly could not. I swear, you’re as stupid as you are ugly.”

“B-but why not?”

“Have you forgotten what happened to our advance troops on the first day of the war? These bastards are masters when it comes to individual combat. You think we’re really going to accomplish anything by sending our soldiers up a mountain where the Yamatoans have already dug in and secured a positional advantage?”

“Ah…”

When that was pointed out to him, the middle-aged Gold Knight adjutant cast his gaze down in embarrassment. The giant was absolutely right. There was a limit to how many people they could send up the mountains in one go, and that meant they would be forced into a much smaller-scale battle. And what would happen if they attempted that against an army that had demolished the empire’s thirty-thousand-strong advance guard with just a thousand troops? The answer was obvious. In the time it took a single imperial soldier to climb one of those mountains, a Yamato soldier could cut down five of their comrades without breaking a sweat.

“The only way we’re taking down that fortress is by creating a situation where we can storm it with a single overwhelming wave of soldiers. As the people standing straight across from our objective, we have the most critical job. While our troops on both flanks are distracting their forces on the mountains and giving them more targets than they can handle, we need to punch a hole right through the middle of that checkpoint. That’s what it’s going to take to win this battle.”

Their enemies had set up a U-shaped formation, and their kill zone was directly in front of the checkpoint. Charging it would mean taking some heavy concentrated fire, but at least the imperials could deploy huge numbers all at once, unlike with the mountain flanks. The imperial forces were individually weaker than their foes, and their numbers advantage was the sole weapon in their arsenal. If they didn’t utilize it, they were doomed. The giant had accurately identified the one route to victory.

“Ah, how I want to see him. My dear angel Tsukasa, my silver-haired princeling. Ever since I caught that first glimpse of you as you retreated, I’ve wanted to fill up that pretty little mouth of yours so bad I’ve been trembling!”

The young man leading the enemy’s attrition efforts was so beautiful he could have easily been mistaken for a girl. Thinking about his heterochromatic eyes made the bald giant’s nostrils flare with excitement, and his member was so visibly erect it was lifting his heavy chain waist apron.

Erik, who rode next to him, grimaced. He might not have been as pedigreed as the Bluebloods, but he was still a perfectly legitimate noble, and the sheer crassness of the man beside him was hard to stomach. His accent, countenance, and sexual hunger were all vulgar. Despite that, the man held the highest martial rank the empire conferred: the title of Platinum Knight. The lofty title was impossible to attain without possessing overwhelming combat prowess, a keen mind for war, and meaningful accomplishments to boot. Now that Gustav was out of the picture, this man—Platinum Knight Walter du Gascorge—was the sole person in charge of commanding the empire’s armed forces. Erik found a lot about him difficult to comprehend, but he knew his word was law to the army.

“So how do you intend on punching a hole through that mighty checkpoint, General Gascorge?”

When Erik asked for instructions, Gascorge the giant urged his steed onward as he replied. “The first thing we need to do is close the distance.

“We’ll wait for our troops to charge the mountains on the sides, then send in our infantry when they do.

“Then we’ll use our siege cannons along the riverside and bombing runs from our Dragon Knights to cover us as we ford the river.

“Once we cross, our gunners and field guns will be able to get in range of the checkpoint.

“And once we make it that far—I’ll show you a sight you won’t soon forget.”

With that, the two armies began the conflict in earnest.

The imperial infantry began forcing its way across the river. The river was a hair under five thousand feet wide, and the soldiers made good time across its first half. The river’s width gave it a gentle flow, and even at its deepest, it never made it above the waist. For trained imperial regular soldiers, such conditions were a walk in the park.

Once they made it halfway across, though, the onslaught from the Byakkokan Checkpoint intensified. Now that the gap between the two sides had shrunk, the Yamato gunners were able to switch out their ammo. Instead of filling their many cannons with processed stone round shot, they were able to use buckshot made up of countless stones wrapped in sailcloth. Buckshot lacked the range and raw destructive power of round shot, but what it did have was coverage, and against the spread-out ranks of imperial soldiers, its effectiveness was unparalleled. A deluge of tiny stones rained down, blowing the faces and legs off of anyone unfortunate enough to catch a hit.

The soldiers hurriedly readied their wooden shields, but it was to no avail. The stones may only have been as large as a person’s fist, but they’d been shot from cannons. They tore through the shields’ dry wood like it was paper and shattered the bones beneath.

Once the oppressive buckshot bombardment commenced, the imperials’ advance slowed. As the river turned red with blood, the soldiers’ valiant war cries gave way to screams of terror and agony. Yet even so…

…the imperials never stopped advancing.

They trampled over the bodies of their fallen comrades, and wherever the piles of corpses were tall enough, they used them as cover to continue the charge through the buckshot storm. They never stood still, not once. Not even for a moment. No matter how many stones you threw at a tsunami, it would swallow them with its sheer mass. A mere hundred or so gunports had no hope of pushing back the tens of thousands of imperial foot soldiers. To make matters worse, the imperials began firing back at the Byakkokan Checkpoint from the distant shore, and their Dragon Knights began braving the Yamatoans’ arrows to bomb the checkpoint from above to provide further support for the infantry in the river.

Thanks to all that backup, the imperial procession succeeded in making it to the other riverbank.

It was a disastrous turn of events for the Yamato side.

Now that the imperials had made it to the shore, they were only some 1,600 feet away. That was beyond the optimal range of guns and bows, but it was still within effective distance. And if shots could reach their targets, there was no reason not to fire. In light of that fact, the Yamato forces began desperately shooting the invaders. Now that they could couple their buckshot barrages with volleys of bullets and arrows, the imperial army casualties grew exponentially.

Despite having just crossed a river, the imperials showed no indication of fatigue. If anything, their morale had risen. But that was to be expected.

Their guns and bows were in range now, too.

After all that time they’d spent getting pummeled with no recourse, they were finally able to fight back.

Thus began the counterattack.

Once the river was behind the imperials, their gunners moved into position. While the rest of the infantry defended them, they reassembled field guns out of the platforms, wheels, and barrels they’d lugged across the river, then began firing in unison. The weapons were small, but the sound of over five hundred of them all spitting out rounds at once was awe-inspiring. The cannons were aimed almost straight up, and their cannonballs soared over the heads of the Yamato soldiers stationed atop the Byakkokan Checkpoint’s ramparts…

…and exploded in midair.

The imperials weren’t using ordinary round shot or buckshot made of small stones wrapped in fabric. It was a new weapon the imperial workshops had devised called high-explosive shells that ruptured over the enemy’s head and used the force of that explosion to scatter metal shrapnel.

High-explosive shells weren’t designed around kinetic energy–based destruction, so they posed little threat to the Byakkokan Checkpoint itself. For the Yamato soldiers, however, it was terrifying. There was nothing they could use for cover atop the ramparts.

Metal shrapnel lanced from the blast zone and tore into the Yamato soldiers, whose screams echoed into the uncaring blue sky.

The Yamato forces on the mountains tried to help, but the empire wasn’t about to let that happen. The Dragon Knights began bombing even harder than before to keep them pinned down, and the mages riding behind the Dragon Knights struck with magic, as well. Fire, lightning, ice, and steel all poured down from overhead.

In the blink of an eye, the battlefield around the Byakkokan Checkpoint was a cacophony akin to a thousand peals of thunder.

When faced with the intensity of the empire’s onslaught, the Yamato army’s counterattacks weakened, and the empire used that opening to send another wave of troops across the river. This time, some of them were armed with massive siege cannons pulled along by horses. That was the imperial siege corps.

When the corps got to the checkpoint-side shore, it dived behind the fortifications the previous wave of soldiers had set up and began assembling cannons from disparate parts. Its members drove stakes deep into the ground to set up platforms to support their cannons, then mounted the barrels atop them.

These were the empire’s cutting-edge siege cannons, and their barrels had been polished to a sheen. They weren’t as long as the siege cannons the empire used to provide covering fire from the far shore, but they were of a much higher caliber, and the siege corps loaded the massive weapons with round shot perfectly designed for raw destruction. The ammunition was made of metal instead of stone.

Then the firing began.

A deafening roar split the air as the kinetic energy from the explosions drove the outrageously heavy 110-pound metal spheres directly into the Byakkokan Checkpoint. Each and every one of them had enough force to smash a stone fortress wall to smithereens. However…

…things didn’t pan out quite as the imperials planned.

The five new siege cannons’ mighty attacks barely put a dent in the Byakkokan Checkpoint’s walls. One of the shots went high, caving in a gunport near the ramparts and crushing part of the wall’s exterior, but the damage didn’t spread. Meanwhile, the rest of the shots smashed into the edifice proper, but all they did was sink into it rather than break through.

Gascorge looked quizzically upon what had just happened from his central command post.

“Oh my. It’s so much tougher than I expected.”

“The Byakkokan Checkpoint isn’t just tall, it’s also over sixty feet deep at its longest point. It’s open in the center, of course, but the walls are extremely thick.”

Gascorge squinted doubtfully. “Is that all there is to it, though?”

All of a sudden, a teasing voice came from behind his back. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a bind. Yup.”

When Gascorge and Erik turned around, they saw a little man looking up them. The newcomer’s face was so covered in bandages that only his eyes were visible, and he was wearing a turban adorned with peacock feathers.

The two knights recognized the figure, and once Gascorge realized who it was, he leaped off his monoceros and cried out with delight. “Dear me, if it isn’t my adorable little Sai!”

“Don’t get near me with that creepy look on your face. Yup.”

“It’s not your moment to shine yet, you know. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“You really think you have time to worry over others right now? Your prized siege cannons are in a bad way. Yup.”

Over where the short new arrival pointed, the state-of-the-art siege encampment was taking heavy fire. The fortification its military engineers erected had held out as long as it could, but it ultimately crumbled. The five cannons were worthless now.

“If you haven’t blasted even tiny holes in that thing by the time I wake, I’m going to strap bombs to your entire army and have it charge the fortress. It’s a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself. Yup,” the pipsqueak said, undaunted by the height gap between himself and the knights. If anything, the way he spoke made it feel like he was the one looking down on Gascorge.

Gascorge replied with a throaty chuckle. “Impatient as ever, I see. I assure you that won’t be necessary. After all, I’m about to give us the opening we need. It’s time for the wheel bomb squad to work its magic.”

He gave the order, and in response, the team he’d referred to as the wheel bomb squad, who’d been setting up while the enemy was distracted by the siege cannons, got into position.

Platinum Knight Gascorge’s tactics revolved around tempo. Every action inspired an enemy reaction, so he made sure to spend that time getting his next attack prepped so he could keep up the pressure without giving his foes a chance to breathe. Doing so allowed him to constantly maintain the initiative, forcing the battle to adapt to his pace and leading things toward his desired conclusion. And the team he’d chosen for his big finale was the wheel bomb squad.

When Sai saw the bizarre objects the squad had, his eyes went wide. “Gas… What even are those wheel monster things?”

“I’m told they’re a new weapon developed by one of the Elm exchange students. The wheel is an unpiloted explosive propelled by a series of rockets fixed to its frame. I believe they’re called panjandrums.”

“That all sounds like a bad joke. Do they really work?”

The harsh appraisal earned another burst of laughter from Gascorge. “Not in the slightest. They’re heaps of junk. Why, we don’t even know what direction they’re going to roll.”

“Excuse me?”

“But you see, even junk has its uses. For example, situations where no matter where they roll, they’re guaranteed to strike a desired target.”

“You’re saying that you brought those things over from the empire because you anticipated they would hole up there all along, Sir Gascorge…?”

“Wasn’t it obvious? This is their key western stronghold.”

Gascorge had known since the onset, based on the route his foes were taking, that the Byakkokan Checkpoint was where they would make their stand. He’d also known it was incredibly large, well fortified, and geographically advantaged. Punching through a stronghold like that required firepower, massive firepower the likes of which could wipe it off the map in a single blow. The problem was that dragons couldn’t carry something like that. Even ground soldiers would be hard-pressed to transport it. It would simply be too heavy.

Thus, Gascorge had zeroed in on a nonsensical invention the imperial workshop engineers had built based on a report from an exchange student, one that could carry huge amounts of explosives at high speeds unpiloted.

“The panjandrum may be junk, but stone fortresses that are good for nothing but their size and bulk are even more useless still. In this era where siege weaponry and gunpowder technology advance by the day, fortresses need to be more than that.”

As progress marched on, traditional fortresses were fast becoming nothing more than sitting ducks. The first person to realize that fact was an imperial noble named Oban, who began developing bastion-style fortresses with ramparts made of earthen walls rather than stone to better resist cannon fire. He arranged the structures in the shapes of stars to blunt the enemy’s attacks while allowing for crossfire from the protruding edges.

That was something Gascorge knew as well, and from his perspective, their enemies were utter dunces for choosing to hole themselves up in an outdated fortress with no merits save its size. It was his job to show them just how foolish they were.

The toll of making an error like that against a general such as him would be steep.

“Now go blast the past into rubble and end this!”

The bomb wheel squad had finished crossing the river while the siege cannons were being used as bait, and when Gascorge gave the order, they ignited their panjandrums. Once they had double-checked to make sure all their fire rockets were lit, they gave the main wheels a firm kick to get them on their way. The 120 panjandrums began rolling. Several of them toppled over from the uneven ground or crashed into the mountains on the side when some fire rockets fell off one side of their wheels, but over 70 percent reached their target…

…and caused a boom and a shock wave so mighty it was akin to a star falling from the sky.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Ohhhhh, what a lovely sound! I felt that deep in my heart!”

“You settled it in one fell swoop,” Erik remarked. “There isn’t a fortress in the world that could survive an explosion of that size.”

The blast had truly been gigantic, and it kicked up a dust storm around the Byakkokan Checkpoint so large that it was impossible for them to confirm the scope of the damage. Even so, neither Gascorge nor Sai had any reason to doubt Erik’s assessment. There was no way a stone fortress so old-fashioned could withstand such an assault. That much was apparent, which was precisely why Gascorge froze when the dust settled.

“What in the…?”

The Byakkokan Checkpoint hadn’t emerged unscathed, but it hadn’t collapsed, either. It stood tall, still blocking the mountain path.

“What’s going on?” Gascorge wondered. “Surely its sturdiness must have its limits.”

“…Ah, clever. I guess our foes aren’t total fools after all. Yup,” Sai muttered as he surveyed the scene through an imperial workshop-made telescope.

“Sai?”

“They used sandbags.”

“!”

Gascorge gave the Byakkokan Checkpoint another good, hard look, and when he did, he finally spotted the massive amounts of sand that had come pouring out to plug the holes left by the panjandrums.

“From the outset, they’d given up on using the Byakkokan Checkpoint as a fortress. Yup. Instead, they filled it with sandbags. The checkpoint is nothing more than a facade. That’s no garrison anymore; it’s a massive wall of dirt. Any minor holes we punch in it will just repair themselves. Trying to blast it away with cannons and bombs will be an uphill battle. Yup.”

“…Tch.”

Gascorge’s previous nonchalant confidence was gone. The panjandrums were his finisher, the tool he’d brought to end the battle with. His whole plan had centered on using them to deal crippling damage to the Byakkokan Checkpoint so his soldiers could surge in through the openings.

Now that strategy was in ruins.

It had been foiled by an enemy who’d believed that Gascorge would go after the checkpoint itself and not the mountains on its flanks. They’d known he was coming, and they’d stopped him handily. Surely that meant a counterattack was imminent.

As though to confirm Gascorge’s theory, it began.

A barrage of arrows came pouring from the Byakkokan Checkpoint and the surrounding mountains at the soldiers who’d crossed the river—too many to possibly count.

“Shit! Arrows, incoming! Get those shields up!”

The imperial soldiers hurriedly raised their wooden shields overhead to protect themselves. Arrows were far lighter than buckshot, so the imperials were certain that the projectiles would do little to slow them down. They quickly came to understand that was an incorrect assumption.

“ARRRRRGH!!!!”

“E-eeeeeek?!”

Those were no normal arrowheads. A porcelain siphon was attached to the end of each shaft, and fire came gushing out when they shattered from the force of the impact. Anyone who blocked the arrows with a shield immediately found themselves alight.

On seeing that, the Gold Knight in charge of commanding the forces on the front lines clicked his tongue…

“Fire arrows, huh? Clever bastards! Get back in the river!”

…and gave the order to extinguish the fire.

That was when the tragedy truly began.

“““AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”””

When the flame-enveloped soldiers rushed into the river, it didn’t quench fire. On the contrary, the burning intensified, swallowing the afflicted troops whole. In the blink of an eye, the river became a sea of flames.

“I’ve heard of this stuff. They say the New World has a kind of gunpowder that burns with a fire that grows stronger when soaked with water. Not even the empire’s figured out how to produce it, but I guess these guys have…”

Sai trembled as he gazed upon the nightmarish inferno and the charred, writhing corpses. However, the reality was even worse than he imagined. What the Yamato soldiers were using wasn’t a New World concoction but a distant descendant of that compound based on hundreds of years of improvement on a planet called Earth. Each of those arrows was a perfected combustion tool that used naphtha as its main fuel source—a napalm bomb. Extinguishing that fire was impossible for this world’s technology. The battle line the imperials had built by forcing their way across the river collapsed. And to make matters worse…

“Messenger, coming through! General Balentien’s vanguard forces attacking the left mountain have been wiped out! Gold Knight Parth has perished!”

…their soldiers on the left mountain, who were supposed to support their attack on the center, also got pushed back.

“Goodness, what a shame to lose a swordfighter as handsome and talented as Parthy-poo.” Gascorge looked up and saw an angel standing atop the blood-drenched mountain on the left. Her long hair fluttered, and she carried a lapis lazuli blade in hand. “Heh. I see they don’t call them angels for nothing. Oh, this is good stuff. It’s making me hard.”

“Th-this is bad! General, you have to pull your troops back! At this rate, we’ll get slaughtered!”

Once the imperials on the left flank were driven off, the enemy soldiers on that mountain turned their attention to the central area where Gascorge and the others were. Face pale, Erik offered his counsel, but Gascorge didn’t make any hasty decisions. Instead, he glanced over at Sai.

“Heh. A fair point. Sai, how would you have us handle the situation?”

“There’s only one thing to be done,” Sai replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We brute-force our way right through. Yup.”

“What?!”

Erik’s eyes went wide, but Sai continued without paying him any mind. “The gunports on top of the stronghold are still usable, so I doubt the structure is actually filled to the brim with sandbags. They can’t be stacked higher than thirty feet at most. Yup.

“Knowing that, the first thing we should do is concentrate our cannon fire on the top part of the stronghold where those pesky gunners and archers are set up. Once we destroy the top sections, our soldiers can scale the rubble. It’s a perfectly viable strategy. After all, no fort stands forever.”

“Th-that might work eventually, but the losses we’ll suffer in the meantime will be unthinkable!” Erik protested.

“So what? Dying is part of your job.”

“What…?!”

“Our enemies never intended to use the Byakkokan Checkpoint as a proper fortress. They’re unlikely to bother defending it to the bitter end. Rather, they know that defending it to the death isn’t an option. Yup.

“The enemy leader clearly knows what is and isn’t within his forces’ capabilities. He won’t go for unsound gambits in a battle like this, and he’s not searching for easy wins. Thus, outflanking him won’t work. It’d just end up with us throwing away time and lives for nothing. Our best play is to crush him with superior numbers.

“Greasing the fallen sand with the blood of our soldiers will make it that much easier to climb. We’ll pave ourselves a path to victory with imperial flesh and blood. Yup. This is what war is all about. That’s what makes it so wonderful.”

“Heh. I see.”

Gascorge’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction…

…and he raised his sledgehammer up by the side of his head.

A moment later, something smashed into it and shattered it to pieces.

“A-ahhh! Wh-what’s going on?! Are we being sniped?!”

Erik trembled with fear, but his superior’s smile broadened.

“Ah, so we, too, get to drink deep of the sweet wine of battle. My heart is racing already.”

Gascorge cast aside his destroyed sledgehammer, mounted his monoceros, and took up its reins.

“General Gascorge, where are you going?!”

“Tell the soldiers to continue their assault, Erik. I’m going to go meddle on the left flank for a bit. Now that we know we’re not getting through that checkpoint anytime soon, our forces on the sides are more important than ever. On his own, Balentien doesn’t have the troops to hold out.”

“………”

Tsukasa frowned after trying to snipe the man who appeared to be the enemy leader from one of the Byakkokan Checkpoint’s watchtowers with one of Ringo’s specially made rifles.

The man had blocked his shot.

Tsukasa pulled himself together and peered through his scope with the intention of aiming his second shot at the turban-clad man beside the giant. However, he soon shifted his gunsight.

Why even take the shot? I’d just be wasting a bullet.

Their gazes had met through the scope. More than 6,500 feet separated them, yet after a single shot, Tsukasa’s enemies zeroed in on him. The bald giant was one thing, but the short guy with his head wrapped was clearly a force to be reckoned with, too. The empire was nothing to be trifled with, not if they still had people of Gustav’s capability up its sleeve.

I don’t have time to waste fixating on dangerous individual opponents.

For the imperial nationals who were dying before his very eyes, the war to retake Yamato was a meaningless battle without merit. The conflict’s purpose was to fulfill the ambitions of a single mage who came from another world.

Tsukasa needed to end the fighting as quickly as he possibly could.

To that end…

Where’s Neuro?

…he searched the enemy army for the Blue Grandmaster.

Killing that man would force the conflict to conclude.

According to Yggdra, the whole reason the empire sought to retake Yamato was to revive the otherworldly mage known as the evil dragon who existed within Emperor Lindworm. Simply put, the evil dragon faction was fighting for personal gain. The imperial nobles, on the other hand, had no attachment to Yamato whatsoever. If anything, they wanted nothing to do with it. That meant there was room for reconciliation.

To make that a reality, Tsukasa strained his eyes scanning for Neuro. However, his efforts were in vain. The sun eventually set, and night fell. With that, the first day of the clash at the Byakkokan Checkpoint ended in an overwhelming victory for the Yamato side, with Neuro still nowhere to be seen.

“Take a gander at all those corpses of our enemies.”

“For sure. I bet you could go through Yamato’s entire history and never find a single win against the empire as big as today’s.”

“We can do this. We’ve got a shot!”

The evening sky was dyed vermilion, but the earth was stained a grimmer shade of red. Too many bodies were scattered across the ground to count, and all of them belonged to imperial soldiers.

Yamato’s forces fighting out of a fort had given them an advantage, of course, but that alone couldn’t account for the tremendous difference in casualties. That was thanks to the anti-cannon and anti-explosive defensive position the High School Prodigies had devised, as well as the sheer destruction of the napalm arrows. Now the imperial army was fleeing as though in hot pursuit of the setting sun.

The Yamato soldiers hadn’t known a win like this since the first battle of the war. They erupted in cheers.

Tsukasa watched their foes flee from one of the Byakkokan Checkpoint’s rampart watchtowers.

“Mr. Tsukasa, your plan to fill the checkpoint with sandbags worked like a charm!” Kira, a Yamato tactician, said gleefully.

At first, Kira had been reluctant to endorse a defensive stand here. He understood how far cannon technology had come—and that an old bastion like this was no more than an easy target. However, the Prodigies had dispelled all his concerns and driven back the empire’s finest. The respect in his voice was evident to all.

Despite this…

“…”

…Tsukasa’s expression was sullen.

He hadn’t been able to find Neuro, and that certainly wasn’t helping his mood. But on top of that…

“Now, we just need to set up camp for the night, and—”

“W-we’re under attack! We’re under attaaaaaack!”

“Wh-what?!”

“This is what I was afraid of.”

…Tsukasa knew.

He knew what their foes’ next move would be, and he knew it would bring hell to the Byakkokan Checkpoint.

“Where do they get off, deciding the battle’s over? Yup. What do they think we split our army in two for?”

On the far shore from the Byakkokan Checkpoint, Sai stood at the head of the army, seemingly having taken over for Gascorge. He pulled a single feather out of his pocket, held it aloft…

“Blitzfalken.”

…and recited his incantation.

The lightning sealed in the feather with spirit power turned into light and exploded outward.

It was magic.

Sai took the lightning, molded it into the shape of an arrow, nocked it in his bow, and fired. It soared over the heads of Gascorge’s retreating forces and smashed into the top section of the Byakkokan Checkpoint’s wall, sending an electric shock through the building and knocking out dozens of nearby Yamato guards. Sai’s attack was of a different level than the lightning bolts the dragon-riding mages had hurled. Each of those had only knocked out five people at most. Such power was to be expected of this little man, after all…

“Out of the way, losers. Yup. It’s time to let Prime Mage Saizer do his work.”

…he’d attained the rank of Imperial Prime Mage, the highest title of its class.

“You got it. We’re all counting on you,” Gascorge replied, urging his soldiers to hasten their retreat.

The imperials’ strategy revolved around splitting their forces so they could maintain round-the-clock pressure on the Byakkokan Checkpoint. They wouldn’t permit their enemies the tiniest bit of rest. The Yamato soldiers were going to have to stay on constant alert at all hours, and as the days dragged on, their mounting exhaustion would spell their downfall.

Ironically, both the imperial and Yamato leaders shared the same estimate of how long it would take for the Yamato soldiers to reach their breaking point.

The Byakkokan Checkpoint would fall within seven days.

“Heh. You won’t be getting any sleep tonight, my dear Tsukasa.  ”

“Watchtower three is lost! We’ve got a lot of soldiers down!”

“It’s too dark for us to see where the enemy siege cannons are! We’re sitting ducks up here!”

“We’ve got hostiles gathering around watchtower four! Preparing to intercept!”

“Push them back! Do whatever it takes!”

“I have news from the garrison on the left mountain! The enemy is using the cover of night to scale the cliffs, and the fighting over there is growing! Our soldiers on that side are too pinned down to back us up!”

“Agh! We’ve got another lightning hit! We’ve suffered major casualties!”

“Shit! Each shot of that damn magic takes out dozens of our troops! Plug the hole now! They’re trying to climb through it!”

Near the Byakkokan Checkpoint, against the right-side mountain, stood a military station erected from stone. At first glance, it looked no bigger than a large pub or tavern, but in truth, it ran below the mountain, making it sturdier and more spacious than it appeared. Presently, the Yamato leadership and the High School Prodigies were using it as their headquarters and managing their army from within.

However…

The Yamato samurai sat in a row, frustration visible on all their faces. Reports were coming in one after another, and none of them boded well.

“Things are bad, no matter how you look at it,” Kira said. His brow was furrowed deep, and his chronic stomachaches had apparently returned, for he clutched his gut. “They’re taking advantage of their numbers to mount constant attacks through the night. This is the one thing we hoped wouldn’t happen, and our foes knew it. Truthfully…I didn’t think they would actually be able to pull it off.”

The Yamato samurai nodded in agreement. Any position that was constantly attacked would eventually fall, no matter how impregnable. No breakwater could hold back a tsunami forever. However, these weren’t unfeeling droplets of water they were dealing with. Each of those soldiers had a family and something that got them out of bed in the morning. Maintaining discipline and morale in hellish battlefield conditions where soldiers saw comrades get blown to pieces was challenging. And keeping them up for an entire day straight simply couldn’t be done. That’s what the Yamato army’s leaders had assumed anyway. Not even the people of Yamato, famed for their intense loyalty, could have managed it.

Yet somehow, Freyjagard had found a way.

Five full hours had passed since dusk, but the war cries hadn’t abated. Kira and the others knew that there were times when the bonds forged on battlefields transcended even those of love, but the ferocity of the imperials’ assault was astonishing.

“No matter how many allies they lose, their formations never waver,” Kira continued. “Their commander must be skilled.”

“Agreed,” said Hibari, Yamato’s chief archer. “They’ve suffered so many more casualties than we have, but it doesn’t feel like we’re winning at all…”

“For in truth, it is we who are being cornered.”

The final remark came from the young woman sitting at the head of the long table. It originated from Kaguya, a daughter of Yamato’s former emperor.

Her black hair shone in the torchlight as she toyed with it between her fingers. “The other side’s death toll doth exceed ours, but our casualties are likewise too great to ignore. At this rate, the gap in our forces shall grow. But what troubles me more than our personnel losses is our dwindling armament supply.”

Holes in battle formations could always be plugged by throwing more bodies at the problem, but the same wasn’t true of equipment shortages. After the first day of fighting, Yamato was missing nearly twenty cannons. That reduction in firepower would serve to embolden the enemy. It was a serious problem—and one they needed to deal with.

“The Byakkokan Checkpoint is tremendously sturdy thanks to the angels, but the first day hath left it battered. It remains functional as a bulwark for the time being, but…it shall not hold forever, and I daresay the enemy is unlikely to give us the time we need for repairs.”

Sooner or later, that wall would reach its limit. They couldn’t stay holed up in the Byakkokan Checkpoint forever. The problem was…

“Regrettably, we have nowhere left to retreat.”

The samurai gathered in the headquarters silently agreed with Kaguya’s assessment. Fort Steadfast was the only major fortress left between the Byakkokan Checkpoint and the capital.

“Fort Steadfast serves as a threat solely because of its ability to receive reinforcements from Azuchi. With all the forces Yamato can muster already stationed here at the Byakkokan Checkpoint, barricading a small handful of them in Fort Steadfast is an exercise in futility. They would simply find themselves besieged, which would spell our doom.”

It wouldn’t even buy time. The other side had more than enough fighters to pull off the maneuver Kaguya had described. Fort Steadfast was too small to hold back the great tide they were up against.

“And as you are all aware, Azuchi is not built to be held in situations such as these. The city and its castle were constructed atop a flat plain, and the whole of it lies within range of their siege cannons. Azuchi is helpless against a modern-day siege. Come what may, we have no choice but to settle this war here at the Byakkokan Checkpoint. Or rather…

“…we had no choice.”

Once Kaguya finished her speech, she bit her lower lip in chagrin. Freyjagard’s assault proved more ferocious than anticipated, and she knew that, as a result, the original plan to follow Tsukasa’s attrition tactics to buy time while the Byakkokan Checkpoint was fortified lay in shambles.

“Shura is launching strikes against enemy cannons under the veil of night, but our enemies simply possess too many to dispatch. The Byakkokan Checkpoint will hold but another seven days.” Kaguya turned her gaze to prodigy politician Tsukasa Mikogami, who sat at the far end of the long table directly across from her. “The Republic of Elm said it would send us reinforcements. Do you believe they are coming?”

The reinforcements in question were a key factor in whether Yamato could survive the empire’s campaign. If Freyjagard’s army found itself flanked between Yamato and Elm, it would be forced to retreat. Yet although National Assembly Speaker Juno had sent an official letter stating that Elm was deploying its army “as quickly as possible,” there hadn’t been any word from Elm since.

“…A fair amount of time has passed since we received that letter. By all rights, the reinforcements should have arrived by now,” Tsukasa replied.

“You don’t think…they were lying…do you?” whispered Ringo Oohoshi, one of the four Prodigies waiting behind Tsukasa.

However, Tsukasa shot down that theory. “I doubt it. Lying like that would draw ire from Yamato and the empire alike. It would make enemies out of both sides. There’s no reason for Elm to do that.”

If Elm never intended to aid Yamato, it simply wouldn’t have sent the missive in the first place. Deception was irrational. That wasn’t what was going on.

“As such,” Tsukasa declared, “the safest assumption is that Elm’s force has been intercepted.”

Tsukasa was suggesting that the Elm army had departed for Yamato, but the empire saw it coming and intervened.

Kaguya narrowed her eyes in doubt. “So despite the size of the force they hath brought to Yamato, the empire possessed the resources to cripple the Elm army as it marched south? That hardly seems possible for a nation fatigued by civil war and foreign campaigns. Do imperial soldiers grow on trees, perchance?”

The joke was her way of suggesting that Tsukasa’s supposition was impossible. Honestly, Tsukasa agreed. Between the New World campaign and quelling the Blueblood uprising, the imperial army was exhausted. By contrast, Tsukasa and the other Prodigies had used advanced technology to modernize Elm’s forces, the order of the Seven Luminaries, turning them into a formidable threat. Stopping them would have been no mean feat for Freyjagard. It simply wasn’t feasible, especially knowing the number of soldiers the empire committed to Yamato. Elm should have continued unbothered.

Still, Tsukasa hadn’t suggested a possible attack on Elm’s army without reason.

“There’s a single individual in Drachen with the power to stall our reinforcements without an actual battle—a man who could approach the Elm army without raising alarm and use that to cripple it.”

“Tsukasa…are you…talking about…?”

“Y-you don’t mean!”

One of the Prodigies behind Tsukasa, prodigy magician Prince Akatsuki, went pale. A terrible possibility had just occurred to him.

A moment later, Tsukasa affirmed it. “I’m talking about Merchant. He’s made his move.”

“““……!”””

“H-hold on! There’s no way!” Akatsuki shouted in disbelief, while news of one of the angels’ betrayal sent a stir through the room. “I mean, Neuro’s goal is to kill Lyrule! Masato wouldn’t go along with something like that! M-maybe Shinobu just wasn’t able to get the message to him!”

Tsukasa nodded. “That’s certainly a possibility, yes.” He was lying, of course.

By now, Shinobu had undoubtedly succeeded in delivering the information. She was the kind of person who always followed through on a promise. The word failure wasn’t in prodigy journalist Shinobu Sarutobi’s vocabulary, yet she’d gone missing without any warning ahead of time.

That meant something truly unexpected had transpired, something like, say, a betrayal by Masato, the very person she’d tried to save.

Akatsuki wouldn’t be able to keep his cool if Tsukasa pointed that out, though. He possessed a kind heart, and he believed in Masato. He’d only ever known Masato as a friend and viewed him as a reliable teammate who got mad when allies were mistreated.

Tsukasa was different. He knew Masato’s true nature—and how chillingly rational and selfish he could be. That granted him insight into Masato’s goals. Tsukasa was no fool. He’d understood what would become of his relationship with Masato the moment he tried to institute universal basic income. He understood what it would stir up in Masato.

“…Whatever the case, it’s safe to say that we can’t pin our hopes on the Republic of Elm’s reinforcements.”

Tsukasa’s statement earned a heavy sigh from Kaguya. “Then we had best steel our resolves. Kira, thou mayest wish to prepare us some suicide pills to go with thy stomach medicine.”

“I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, my lady; your sense of humor is absolutely atrocious.” Kira let out a single bleak laugh, then continued with deep conviction. “Our determination has been firm since the days of the Resistance. I have no intention of letting the empire toy with our lives again. If the alternative is surviving by crawling on the ground like livestock and groveling for Freyjagard’s forgiveness, I would rather see this war through to the end.”

The mood in the headquarters had been restless, but when Kira made his pledge, the air in the room took on a stern energy. Every Yamato citizen present harbored the same sentiment as Kira, and when they looked to Kaguya with determination in their eyes…

“I know.”

…she quietly closed hers.

She couldn’t bear to meet their gazes head-on. The imperial family’s popularity with the people was the cornerstone of Yamato’s structure and the peace it had enjoyed for so long. Kaguya understood precisely how that popularity had been maintained.

However, she was adept enough not to let that sentimentality show. She opened her eyes and made her proclamation with all the dignity the people expected of their ruler. “Surrender is no option in my mind, either. I have no intention of reviving the Resistance. If thou are prepared to lay down thine lives for the sake of Yamato, then as its sovereign, I shall return thy devotion in kind. There shall be no surrender. We fight to the last.”

That sent an even larger stir through the headquarters. Sometimes, getting drunk on the wine of ruin was the only way to maintain morale in the face of overwhelming odds.

However…

“There’s no need to despair just yet.”

…Tsukasa went and put a stop to all that.

It was too early for them to resign themselves to death.

And that was because…

“There’s a way we can turn the situation around.”

“““!!!!”””

“A-are you certain, Mr. Angel?!”

Tsukasa made sure to give the war council a confident, exaggerated bow to calm their nerves. “The empire’s army is powerful, that’s for certain. We’ve seen with our own eyes how strong their frontal assault on the Byakkokan Checkpoint has been. They aren’t afraid to die, and as Princess Kaguya said, the checkpoint, for all its new fortifications, will be lucky to survive a week. However, the force we’re up against has a fatal weakness, one that could cause it to fall apart.”

“Wh-what’s that?”

“It’s the fact that its supreme commander, Neuro, harbors a completely different objective than the people fighting. As you Yamatoans know from Shura’s report, this war, as well as your previous one against Freyjagard, links back to the age of myth and legend.”

Everyone present was already up to speed on the information from Yggdra. Over a thousand years ago, a mage and five homunculi had fled to this world from another one. They’d utilized this planet as a test site for magical experiments until Yggdra, one of the homunculi, had a crisis of conscience and used the world’s indigenous elves to seal the mage away.

“In recent years, the evil dragon’s homunculi—Neuro and the other Four Imperial Grandmasters—were reborn. Now they’re trying to destroy the seal so they can sacrifice Emperor Lindworm and revive the mage who created them, the evil dragon.

“The motive behind this war is to murder Lyrule, the person who’s inherited the evil dragon’s seal.

“At the end of the day, though, that is a personal objective of Neuro’s. It’s not what the imperial army is fighting for. Its goal is to reclaim Yamato and punish the Resistance. And what’s more, the Freyjagardians aren’t enthusiastic about this war. As far as the imperial nobles are concerned, Yamato is more trouble than it’s worth. The last war only happened because Neuro and the other members of the Four Imperial Grandmasters ignored the aristocracy’s complaints, exacerbating the disapproval of this second campaign.

“Neuro and the troops are after separate wants entirely. That’s a dangerous position for an organization—it makes it fragile. I’m confident that therein lies an opening for us to seize victory.”

“You mean by homing in on Neuro’s deception and severing the foe’s head from its body?” Kaguya asked.

“Exactly,” Tsukasa replied with a nod. “Right now, Neuro is the only person who actually stands to gain anything from this fight. All we have to do is remove him from the equation, and we should be able to find a healthy middle ground with the rest of the imperials.”

That would get Yamato and the Prodigies out of their current predicament, if nothing else. If the choice was between defeating the imperial army or just Neuro, it was clear which was simpler.

It still didn’t promise to be easy, though. Prodigy physician Keine Kanzaki and prodigy swordmaster Aoi Ichijou were quick to point that out.

“But we have no idea where Grandmaster Neuro is, do we? He’s surely hiding precisely because he understands the situation.”

“Additionally, there is a chance he is absent from the battlefield altogether. The powerful tend to avoid the front lines, that they do.”

The Yamato officials shared the same concern. They nodded, then waited for Tsukasa’s reply.

“Oh, he’s here, all right,” he said firmly.

“You say that with such confidence,” Kaguya noted.

“I’ve got a good reason. We’re all aware Neuro’s goal is different from the rest of Freyjagard’s. From the military’s perspective, Lyrule is just another rebel. Should she try to escape alone, she’s not meaningful enough for the army to hunt her down. But the same doesn’t go for Neuro.

“If Lyrule gets away, this entire war will have been meaningless for him. It’s the one thing he needs to prevent. The problem is, the army believes it’s battling to reconquer Yamato, so no matter what orders he gives them, they’re never going to treat a single young woman as the most important target. They’ll ask Neuro for an explanation, and he won’t be able to give them one.”

That much was pretty self-explanatory. Neuro’s intention to sacrifice Emperor Lindworm to resurrect the evil dragon was an act of betrayal against the empire. There was no way he could reveal it to the army, and trying to get it to deviate from retaking Yamato while keeping that hidden would be challenging.

Alternatively, Neuro might employ magic to forcibly bend soldiers to his will, but if he had the power to control a force that vast, he would have used it on his enemies long ago. Like Yggdra said, being reincarnated as a human had substantially curtailed his strength.

Considering all that, it would take time for Neuro to convince the imperial army to go after Lyrule.

“If Lyrule disappears while Neuro’s busy getting his house in order, his whole strategy will be for naught, and he knows it. So what will he do? There’s only one thing he can do.

“He needs to keep a combat force under his direct command disguised as reserve troops, and if the situation calls for it, he’ll split it from the rest of the army to pursue Lyrule. All we need to do to draw him out is have Lyrule try to run.”

“You want to use Lyrule as bait?”

Akatsuki sounded uncomfortable with that, so Tsukasa elaborated. “Naturally, we wouldn’t send her off alone. We’d ensure a group tags along for her protection. Then, when Neuro pursues, we’ll engage his troops and crush them. Of the tactical options available to us, I believe it’s the one that gives us the best odds.”

As Tsukasa spoke, he rose from his chair and faced Lyrule. The elf girl was standing back by the wall.

“Now that you understand, I’d like to ask for your help.”

Lyrule, who’d listened to the entire meeting in silence, looked down with sadness in her eyes for a moment…

“This battle, and all those before it, should never have been your problem, Tsukasa. My being here was what dragged you into them, yet none of you ever blamed me. You risked your lives fighting with us.

“Knowing that, I can’t just run off and hide on my own. I can’t, and I won’t! This is a battle to protect my world! So at this point, you don’t even need to ask! If you’ll have me, then I’d like to help however I can! Please, let me fight by your side!”

…before elegantly expressing her desires.

After watching this discussion play out…

“…Splitting our army between Yamato and the angels, then having the angels lure the grandmaster out of hiding and lopping off the imperials’ head while we keep the main force occupied here at the Byakkokan Checkpoint. Heh. ’Tis a more practical strategy than mounting a futile resistance from Azuchi, that much is certain.”

…Kaguya stopped toying with her hair and stood.

Her next words were those of a ruler issuing an order.

“This is the strategy we shall use to defeat our foe! Hurry, now, and organize thy troops.”

“““Yes, my lady!”””

The samurai gave a vigorous reply, then each set to their tasks.

After watching them go, Kaguya turned her attention to the Prodigies, who’d stayed behind. “We cannot afford to neglect our defenses here. I can offer thee but two thousand soldiers to take along with thee. Will that suffice?”

“There’s no sense wishing for something we don’t have,” Tsukasa replied. “We’ll make do.”

“Have you a plan to fell Neuro?”

“I do.”

Tsukasa spread a map of Yamato on the table and pointed at the depiction of the Byakkokan Checkpoint.

“First of all, we’re going to take Lyrule and the detached force and leave the Byakkokan Checkpoint tonight.”

“Thou intendest to depart so soon? If thou wishest to draw his attention to Lyrule, would it not be better to travel by day?” Kaguya asked.

“The whole point of this operation is to draw Neuro away from the rest of his army. I want to take advantage of the darkness to cover some distance first. Once we distance ourselves from the Byakkokan Checkpoint, we’ll be able to get some sleep, too. There’s no way we’d get any decent shut-eye with this gunfire pouring down on us all night long.”

“But what if Neuro isn’t able to find us? If that happens, he won’t even have a chance to take the bait.”

“Spoken like a magician who excels in directing people’s attention, Akatsuki. Don’t worry; that won’t happen. Lyrule’s escape is the one thing our opponent fears above all else. Neuro has Dragon Knights patrolling our movements from the sky. As soon as it gets bright, they’ll immediately figure out where we’ve gone, and he’ll send his cavalry after us at top speed. We’ll engage him when he does.”

With that, Tsukasa slid his finger from the Byakkokan Checkpoint to a wide, recessed plain—the Tomino Basin. It sat at the edge of the woodlands of northern Yamato.

After casting a glance at Tsukasa’s chosen location for the showdown, Kaguya tilted her head. “If thou anticipatest the enemy to come charging in with cavalry, what sense is there in making thy stand at the Tomino Basin? Most of our ranks are infantry, and the basin hath naught for cover but a few gentle hills. Picking a fight with cavalry there hardly seems like the most prudent decision.”

Kaguya’s argument was sound. It was founded in standard tactical doctrine, and everyone present nodded in agreement. Tsukasa alone shook his head in dissent. “This is the only viable place for us to fight. The detached force’s attack disguised as a defensive battle is our one big chance to end the entire war. Holding it in the woods or mountains would give us an edge in the skirmish itself, but it would increase the chance of losing track of Neuro and giving him the opportunity to escape. Our foes can’t afford to let Lyrule get away, but we’re in the same boat with Neuro.”

“Ah, indeed. Thou hast a point.”

“In this wide-open basin, we won’t have to worry about that. That said, we don’t want to go against cavalry without proper equipment, so we’ll want to reach the basin as quickly as possible so we have time to find a suitable hill and fortify it with an abatis.”

An abatis was a basic defensive installation made of logs driven into the ground and sharpened to a point. Simple as they were, they were a serious challenge for a cavalry to cross. Their cost-effectiveness was incredible.

“The abatis and the incline will blunt the enemy cavalry’s charge, and with how powerful Yamato soldiers are, they should stand a good chance against slowed-down horses.”

“Aye. Yamato soldiers should prevail. Now, I understand how thou meanest to deal with the cavalry. But that is a defensive tactic, is it not? I wish to know thy plan for seizing the offensive. Thou still lackest a means of taking Neuro’s head while contending with thy mounted foes.”

Tsukasa was well aware of that. “As we fortify the hill, we’ll also get to work prepping our offensive. And the cornerstone of our strategy…” Tsukasa paused and shifted his gaze from Kaguya to someone else, the short boy standing behind him, prodigy magician Prince Akatsuki. “…is Akatsuki.”

“Wh—whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?!?!?!”

Bearabbit had overseen fortifying the Byakkokan Checkpoint, and after finishing the briefing, the Prodigies left him behind to help defend it as they left in the night with Lyrule for the Tomino Basin.

The chosen path was a northbound mountain trail designed to let people escape the battlefield. It wasn’t particularly perilous, and while the road was narrow and unsuited for transporting a whole army, it was just the right size for the mere two thousand troops the Prodigies had been allocated.

After they wove through the mountains for an hour with only the pale wintry moonlight to light the way, the sound of cannon fire grew distant enough for them to stop and get some rest. They didn’t bother setting up camp, instead huddling together to sleep. The ground was hard, and the winter air was chilly. The conditions were hardly ideal for relieving fatigue, but at least they were able to conserve more stamina than they would have back at the besieged Byakkokan Checkpoint.

The generals were afforded tented, horse-drawn wagons, and the Prodigies were granted the same luxury. They had two wagons between them—one for the boys, the other for the girls.

That night, a short blond boy visited the girls’ wagon. It was Prince Akatsuki.

Keine and Aoi sat in the wagon bed, and when they realized they had a guest, Aoi asked, “Akatsuki, m’lord. What brings you here?”

“I actually have something I want to talk with Keine about…”

“Oh, me?”

“Hey, Keine… Could I get some more of those pills?”

Keine gave Akatsuki’s fawning tone a frown. He was referring to the tranquilizers she’d prescribed him before they set out. They were meant to settle Akatsuki’s nerves before the showdown with Neuro.

“You may not. You’re already at the maximum recommended dosage. Taking any more would only have adverse effects.”

“Whaaat? C’mon, can’t you help a guy out? I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, remember? If I don’t get them now, I might not get another chance…”

“When I said no, I meant it,” Keine chided lightly. It was easy to develop a dependency on the pills. The drug itself wasn’t addictive, but it didn’t take much for someone to get used to turning to drugs to wipe away their worries. They had to be prescribed judiciously. “If you absolutely insist that I help you deal with your fear, though, I’d be happy to open your head and remove the part that causes fear.”

“Thanks, but absolutely no thanks.”

“I assure you, it’s highly effective. It would come with the minor side effect of changing your personality into that of a stray dog, but still.”

“I dunno if I’d call losing my humanity a minor side effect…”

“I must say, I expected a sharper comeback than that.”

Akatsuki normally reacted to Keine’s dark humor with loud, vigorous objections, yet his retort had been feeble and dejected. He must have been seriously worn out. Perhaps that was unavoidable, given the situation.

“To be fair, he has been tasked with a heavy responsibility, that he has,” Aoi said.

“Urgh,” Akatsuki groaned. “Don’t remind me. My stomach’s cramping just thinking about it.”

Aoi was referring to the anti-Neuro tactic Tsukasa had entrusted Akatsuki with. By Tsukasa’s estimation, Neuro’s personal force would have a minimum of eight thousand soldiers, and at least a thousand of them would be cavalry. In contrast, the Prodigies had a mere two thousand infantry, so fighting head-on would be dangerous. Yamato soldiers were strong, to be certain; each of them could do the work of ten imperials given the right conditions. They’d proven as much during the night raid. This would be a clash in broad daylight, however. Between that and the fact that they were up against cavalry, it was unreasonable to expect them to perform as they had during that first fight.

That was why they needed a plan. Or at least, that was how Tsukasa had explained it. And he’d told Akatsuki that his contribution would be indispensable to making it work. However…

Akatsuki is a prodigy when it comes to stage magic techniques, but in every other regard, he’s just a normal adolescent.

That was the fundamental difference between Akatsuki and the rest of the Prodigies. The others—even timid Ringo—were familiar with conflict to varying degrees. They’d experienced environments where it was kill or be killed. People had tried to murder them back on Earth, and they’d killed there, too.

Akatsuki alone was different.

Unlike the other six, he’d known an entirely normal life. Nobody had ever tried to murder him, and he’d never had to use violence. All the outlandish things that had transpired since the Prodigies arrived on this planet were seriously burdening Akatsuki. In Keine’s opinion, that could very well end up causing PTSD. Putting a boy like Akatsuki in a role where the fate of the war rested on his shoulders…was a bit cruel.

“If it’s really weighing on you that much, have you considered discussing it with Tsukasa?” Keine suggested.

“Indeed,” Aoi agreed. She must have been thinking the same thing, for she followed up on Keine’s suggestion with evident concern. “This is a war. Failing because you took on more than you could handle will have dire consequences, that it will. Tsukasa does not want that. If you find it too hard to broach the subject alone, I am happy to accompany you.”

Despite his pale complexion…

“Thanks, but…I’ll pass.”

…Akatsuki turned down the offer.

Keine found that rather surprising. “May I ask why? Considering how exacting his preparations are, I’m sure he must have a second or third strategy beyond what we discussed during the meeting.”

“Yeah, but…that’s kind of the reason right there.”

Keine cocked her head in confusion.

Seeing that, Akatsuki explained, “Tsukasa, see… He doesn’t think of himself as a Prodigy. He told me once that all he ever did was what any politician should do: think up policies, advocate for them, and carry them out as he said he would. That’s all, and people started calling him a Prodigy for it. I don’t know how right he is about that, but I do know that his belief explains why he puts so much thought into everything.”

Tsukasa considered situations where things went his way—and those that didn’t. He thought about unexpected possibilities. He took every scenario his mind could muster into account, then prepared countermeasures to deal with them.

After all, he wasn’t a Prodigy like Masato Sanada, who could anticipate the future. Tsukasa’s ideas only went as far as the average person’s. Since they couldn’t reach extremes, he wanted them to cover as much ground as possible to compensate. Despite not being a Prodigy, Tsukasa had been entrusted with sovereignty over an entire nation of people, and it was up to him to make them as happy as possible.

Doing so required a tremendous amount of effort, and Akatsuki knew it.

“After all that thinking, he decided that the best option was to rely on me. I…want live up to that.” Akatsuki’s face was still pale, but his eyes burned with determination. “Besides, Tsukasa promised we’d all go home together.”

Akatsuki had listened intently when Tsukasa laid out the tactic they would use against Neuro…

“This plan is going to help all seven of us get back to Earth together, right?”

…then asked Tsukasa a question.

He needed to make sure that Tsukasa hadn’t given up on Shinobu and Masato, their two missing team members.

“Of course,” Tsukasa had replied.

“So I’m going to do my best. I want to do my part, if it will help us all get back. But my body isn’t on the same page. I’m scared that I’ll screw it all up.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’re worried about.” Upon hearing Akatsuki’s explanation, everything made sense to Keine. “However, that’s all the more reason you don’t need me to prescribe anything.”

“Indeed,” Aoi agreed. “She’s right, that she is.”

“Huh? I—I don’t get it.”

Akatsuki couldn’t make sense of their responses. He’d assumed that Keine might be willing to cut him some slack after hearing how determined he was, but instead, she’d told him that that wasn’t necessary.

Keine went ahead and explained herself. “Out of everyone present, you’re the bravest of us all.”

That only served to deepen Akatsuki’s confusion. “Wh-what? There’s no way. The two of you look totally composed, and I’m over here freaking out.”

“While it’s true that Aoi and I are calmer than you, that isn’t quite the same as courage.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I’ve observed a lot of people during my time on the battlefield, and it made me realize that it isn’t courage that drives people to fight with no regard for their own lives. It’s either rage, confidence, or some combination thereof.

“Of the two, rage is by far the more common motive. Being subjected to oppression or indignities, or witnessing such things befall a loved one, will fill a person with hate. When that feeling reaches a certain point, it can overwrite fear and drive the person to fight.”

Keine asserted that was the category that the imperials and Yamatoans fell into. The Yamato soldiers were enraged at how Freyjagard had treated them and used that fury as fuel. The imperial soldiers had their pride as members of the greatest superpower in the world and were exacting their indignation on the rebels who dared to oppose them.

“Then there’s confidence, which applies to Aoi and me. People like us are powerful enough to overcome most hardships that befall us single-handedly. This war is the perfect example. Even if the war’s tide takes a turn for the worse, it’s unlikely that Aoi or I will die.

“This world simply lacks the strength to take us down, and we know it. That allows us to remain comparatively calm, no matter the situation.

“…In addition to Aoi and me, and our ‘justified’ confidence, I suppose you could also count fools who incorrectly think of themselves as invincible among the same category.”

Keine had been on a lot of battlefields and borne witness to combat firsthand. The anger and composure she described were either tragic or cold and calculating. They didn’t deserve to be described so beautifully as courageous.

“But you, Akatsuki, are neither. You aren’t burning with a rage that makes you unconcerned for your own safety, nor do you possess the confidence to know you’ll survive, come what may. Yet despite that—here you are, willingly stepping up and fighting on our behalf.

“You have no wrath or assurance, yet you’re facing that inescapable fear of death all living creatures possess head-on.”

What did that feel like?

Keine was strong enough that she didn’t know. She couldn’t comprehend how Akatsuki could bear to do something so terrifying. Human beings just weren’t built to do that. The boy’s actions were absurd, and they defied all medical explanations.

There was only one word to describe something like that.

“Akatsuki, I think that right there is what it means to be courageous.”

“…”

“You should believe in yourself a bit more, Akatsuki, m’lord,” Aoi added. “If nothing else, none of us doubts you. Think about it. If Tsukasa was not certain of your success, why would he have entrusted you with a critical role in his first choice of plan?”

“~~~~~”

Aoi’s and Keine’s praise brought a touch of scarlet to Akatsuki’s pallid cheeks. He was short and skinny, his face looked more feminine than most girls’, and he was just as timid as his appearance suggested.

It wasn’t every day that someone complimented him on his courage. That’s what made it so embarrassing.

“You don’t have to talk me up so much, you know…”

Akatsuki was so overcome with bashfulness that he averted his gaze to keep from looking the two girls in the eye. He knew of his cowardice better than anyone, and being told he was brave felt like mockery.

Or it would have…coming from anyone else.

Akatsuki didn’t believe in himself, but he trusted these two and the rest of his prodigy friends unconditionally. He knew that they’d never tell such a cruel lie. As embarrassing as it was, he was able to believe the praise.

It made his heart feel a bit lighter…

“But…thanks.”

…and he offered some feeble words of gratitude.

That was when it happened.

Because Akatsuki was averting his gaze, he was able to catch a glimpse of the white flecks fluttering down outside the wagon.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s snowing.”

“I see. ’Tis the season, that it is,” Aoi replied.

“That means it’s been a full year since we came to this world,” Keine added.

“So much has happened since that it feels like the time just flew by.” Seeing the snow reminded Akatsuki of when they first arrived. Back when he woke up, he’d struggled to believe they were actually in a different world. He’d worried that the shock from the crash had driven him mad. “At the start, the only clue we had for how to get home was Winona’s folktale, but that was so vague that I worried we’d be stuck here for ages. But…now the finish line’s in sight after only a year.”

“Heh-heh.” Keine chuckled. “When you put the Seven Prodigies together, nothing is impossible. It’s exactly like Tsukasa said back in Elm Village.”

“I never doubted us for a moment, that I didn’t,” Aoi agreed. “Although I do admit that Shinobu and Tsukasa did most of the legwork, and all I was ever good for was fighting.”

“Do either of you have anything you wanna do once you get back to Earth?”

“Anything I want to do?” Aoi ran her fingers along the gift from Yamato that rested beside her—the precious sword Mikazuki. “What I have always done—return to the battlefield and protect the powerless. Even a simpleton such as I recognizes the headaches I cause for Japan and Tsukasa, but…Tsukasa cannot become their blade. Only I can, and doing so is a task I refuse to abandon.”

“I intend to head back to the battlefield upon returning to Earth as well. This was supposed to be a one-week vacation, and it’s stretched far longer than intended. I can only imagine how chaotic things must have gotten.”

“…You guys are incredible,” Akatsuki said. “After finally getting released from all this blood and strife, you want to go out and risk your lives more?”

Aoi nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Nor would I,” Keine said. “I’m doing what I love.”

“That said, you will probably want to get some rest, Akatsuki, m’lord.”

“Rest is certainly important, but as a physician, I would also recommend spending some time in therapy. I’m not seeing any issues at the moment, but the human psyche is a complex creature. I can’t say whether the things you’ve experienced will cause you to develop PTSD, but you’ll want to take it easy for a spell.”

“…Yeah. That’s the plan.”

Akatsuki nodded in reply to Keine’s advice. He knew just how fragile his heart was—and had no intention of neglecting it. Returning to his old work could wait. However…

“But you know, once I’ve rested up, there’s something I want to do, too.”

“And what might that be?”

“I’ve done a lot of stuff with magic in this world. I have passed it off as divine miracles, and I’ve put on shows all over the place. As I did, I realized something… I really do just like making people smile.”

Sleight of hand had yet to take off in this world, and that was part of the reason Akatsuki got so many heartwarming reactions to his magic shows. It had been a joy for him, with the performance in the Gustav domain leaving a big impact on him in particular.

Fastidious Duke Gustav was as much a demon as a man, and he’d forced his fanaticism upon his subjects and ruled so tyrannically it even turned the other nobles against him. Things got so bad that the commoners of the Gustav domain resorted to cannibalism to keep from starving. They’d been driven to the brink, both in body and spirit.

Akatsuki had been even shorter back in elementary school and was bullied for it. Seeing the people of the Gustav domain applaud his magic shows with smiles on their faces brought to mind how a traveling magician’s show in his local shopping district cheered him up as a young boy. It reminded him of why he became a magician in the first place.

“Joy and wonder can give people the energy they need to keep going on, and I want to grant that to as many people as I can, to the people who need it most. Coming to this world made that more apparent than ever before. So I was wondering if you’d let me know what you thought…about maybe putting on free shows at refugee camps?”

““ !””

Keine’s and Aoi’s eyes went wide at Akatsuki’s proposal.

“B-but hey…if you think I’d just be making a nuisance of myself, I’ll take your word for it. I know that I’m just deadweight who’s no good for anything other than magic, but—”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Keine’s and Aoi’s reactions made Akatsuki start backpedaling out of fear that they would disapprove. However, he was jumping to conclusions. The two of them were shocked at how much their friend had grown up in just a short year. Between his courageous determination to live up to Tsukasa’s expectations and his new idea, it was possible Akatsuki had matured the most over the course of this strange journey to another world.

Akatsuki tried to pull back, but Keine took his hand and gave him a firm handshake and a delighted smile. “Ah, the energy to keep going on. You’re absolutely right about that. That there…is something that Aoi, who is powerless to do anything but keep people alive, and I, who can do nothing but mend others’ bodies, can’t offer. There are plenty of people who only you can save on the battlefield. If you’re serious, I would be honored to lend you whatever assistance I can.” She paused. “After you rest up, of course.”

Keine’s caveat was very doctorly, and Akatsuki responded by giving her a smile as radiant as a midsummer sun.

While Keine, Aoi, and Akatsuki conversed, Tsukasa and Ringo were having a discussion of their own in the back of the boy’s wagon.

Given that they were about to head into a climactic showdown, the topic was unsurprisingly violent.

“Our Thor’s Hammer nuclear missiles are still fully functional even with the satellite gone, right?” Tsukasa asked.

“Y-yeah,” Ringo replied. “When…the Bearabbit AI in the watchtower on the Elm border…sees me fire off a red emergency flare…he’ll use the obelisk network…to deliver the launch order. From there…the Bearabbit AI in the missile itself…can handle the targeting manually.”

“That’s good to hear. Losing our eye in the sky and our long-range communications hurts, but continued access to our big guns is huge.”

“…You’re not…going to use them now, are you?”

“I’m not. No amount of casualties will convince the empire to back down. Only killing Neuro will, and firing blind without knowing his position hardly seems like a winning strategy. More importantly, there’s still a lot we don’t know about Neuro’s abilities. I’m planning on using every missile we have left on Neuro and the other reincarnated Four Imperial Grandmaster homunculi. That’s the consensus the Yamato leadership and I reached.”

“I…see…”

Launching a nuclear saturation attack and wiping out all one-hundred-thousand-plus imperial soldiers was a viable tactical option, and Ringo’s expression lightened upon hearing that it wasn’t the plan.

“The thing is: Neuro already knows about our nukes, so I doubt he’ll come unprepared. Relying on them too heavily could easily cost us dearly, which is why I’m asking so much of Akatsuki.”

“Oh, that’s right. This is for you…” Tsukasa had given Ringo a gun and asked her to make some very specific modifications to it, and this talk reminded her to give it back to him. It was the flintlock pistol they’d confiscated from Marquis Findolph, the man who once ruled the Findolph domain. “I did…what you asked with the bullets…but…”

“Was there some sort of problem?”

Ringo bobbed her head up and down in the affirmative. “I wasn’t…able to process them very accurately. I don’t think…they’ll hit…unless you fire them from up close. I’m…sorry. My equipment wasn’t up to the task…,” she said dejectedly.

However, Tsukasa patted her shoulder and thanked her for following through on his unreasonable request. “The fact that you managed to get it functional at all is plenty. This might well prove to be our trump card in this upcoming battle. I really appreciate it, Ringo.”

“Heh, heh…”

The praise left Ringo a little bashful. Considering how in love with Tsukasa she was, nothing could have made her happier.

When Ringo thought about it, she realized it had been one war after another since arriving in Yamato, and the Prodigies had been pulling overtime. It had been a long while since she got to sit shoulder to shoulder with Tsukasa alone and chat. She wanted it to go on forever and couldn’t help but wish for the morning never to come.

However, they were soon interrupted.

“Hello, Tsukasa and Ringo.”

“……!”

The greeting came from a young woman whose blond hair and fair skin shone beautifully in the moonlight—Lyrule.

“Hello, Lyrule,” Tsukasa replied. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

“I could say the same to you,” Lyrule said, sounding a bit bemused. She took the fur pelts she was carrying under her arm and handed them to Tsukasa and Ringo. “It’s warmer here than in Elm, but the nights are still chilly. You’ll catch a cold if you try to go outside dressed as you are.”

“Thanks for looking out for us. I was just going over some things with Ringo about our upcoming battle.”

“Here, Ringo, I have one for you, too.”

“………Thank…you…”

Ringo reflexively averted her gaze from Lyrule, even as she took the proffered blanket. As she did, she realized she was being rude to someone who’d brought her a blanket out of the goodness of her heart, but it was too late to do anything now.

“I…don’t plan on losing.”

Since the day she discovered that Lyrule was in love with the same person she was, things had been awkward between them. This was the first time Ringo had some alone time with Tsukasa in a long while, and Lyrule was the last person she wanted to see. It almost made her feel like Lyrule was making a nuisance of herself, and the fact that thought even crossed her mind made Ringo ashamed of her own spinelessness. She continued looking away from her rival, staring into space.

And that’s when she noticed white flecks dancing through the night.

“It’s snowing…”

Upon hearing Ringo’s whispered words, Tsukasa and Lyrule noticed it as well.

Lyrule looked up at the sky and spoke wistfully. “Back in Elm Village…they’re probably starting to hunker down for the winter right about now.”

“That makes sense,” Tsukasa replied. “It’s getting to be that season.”

“That means…it’s been…a whole year…since we got here.”

“It was thanks to you all that we enjoyed such a plentiful winter last year,” Lyrule said.

“Ah, that’s right. When Merchant went off to run that errand for Ringo, he ended up bringing back quite a lot.”

“That was part of it, but that mayonnaise you made played a big part, too. Everyone loved it, from the kids to the adults. I never even knew you could do that with olive oil.”

“Ha-ha. I’m glad you all enjoyed it so much, although I admit I regretted introducing it a little when we had nothing but potatoes with mayonnaise for the next two weeks straight. I guess I underestimated mayo’s power. I had no idea things would get so bad when Merchant presented mayo to Dormundt.”

“Things got…kind of ugly…with that black-market mayo…”

Ringo grinned as she recalled the incident.

It happened in the Findolph domain, back when they needed to get the city of Dormundt to open its gates. Prodigy businessman Masato Sanada devised the out-of-the-box idea of getting Dormundt’s people addicted to mayonnaise. Although the mayo he distributed had the intended effect of bolstering popular support for the Seven Luminaries, it also inspired some shrewd businesspeople to manufacture poorly made knockoffs after they realized how marketable the food was. A lot of people ended up getting food poisoning from the black-market mayo. The one silver lining was that Tsukasa and Aoi were able to step in and get the situation under control before anyone died.

“And aside from the mayo, there was also that hot spring you made for us.”

“Ah, the public bathhouse that we built with Aoi. If I’m being honest, we made that for ourselves as much as for Elm…”

“Really?”

“The country we come from is relatively warm, so the Findolph domain’s cold climate was hard on us.”

“Well, I’m grateful for how sensitive you all are to the cold. Thanks to you, we spent the chilly winter in comfort.”

“I’m sure Aoi and Bearabbit would be thrilled to hear that the people of the village feel that way.”

With that, Tsukasa and Lyrule’s conversation shifted from the mayonnaise to another pleasant memory.

The truth was: There was another reason why Tsukasa had decided to build the bathhouse, and that was to maintain the team’s mental health. At present, prodigy swordmaster Aoi Ichijou was using her martial skills to get all sorts of things done for the Prodigies, but back then, she’d been left with too much time on her hands and nothing to do with it but lambaste herself for her uselessness. Another member of the team—Bearabbit—had been beating himself up over the fact that the plane he piloted had crashed and sent Ringo and the others to this other world. Tsukasa had approached the two of them about building the bathhouse in the hope that it would help take their minds off of things.

Ringo had heard about that from Bearabbit, but things had been so hectic when Lyrule got kidnapped shortly afterward that she never got a chance to thank Tsukasa. As Bearabbit’s creator, she knew that this was the perfect chance to tell him how much she appreciated it…

“Ah………”

…but her mind and her body weren’t in sync presently.

The entirety of her considerable intellect was occupied with the image of Tsukasa taking a soak in the bathhouse. The conversation had dredged it up from her memory. At the time, her mighty brain had operated at full power to save the image.

“By the way, Ringo.”

“E-eek! I… I’m sorry!”

“Hmm…? What are you apologizing for?”

“N-n-n-noth…ing…at all! I wasn’t thinking…about anything weird! Nope! Anyway…what is it?”

Ringo pushed away the indecent memory and feigned composure as she urged Tsukasa to continue. He cocked his head, confused, but continued. “Our conversation reminded me that once all’s said and done, and we head back to Elm, I’d appreciate it if you could do some maintenance on the bathhouse boiler. Before we leave this world, I mean.”

“Oh…yeah. I don’t…mind at all,” Ringo said. It wouldn’t be that much work. “And while we’re there…I should probably…do inspections on everything else, too.”

The boiler wasn’t the only thing Ringo had a hand in building. When Lyrule got kidnapped right after the bathhouse project, the Prodigies took up arms against the empire. That had been the start of the People’s Revolution, and the thermal power station and ordnance factory Ringo built in Findolph’s capital, Dormundt, played huge roles in its early stages. Ringo thought it might be nice to check in on them while they were in the neighborhood.

However, Tsukasa shook his head. “No, that all is out of our hands now. We can leave those facilities to this world’s engineers.”

A questioning expression crossed Ringo’s face. Making a pit stop in Dormundt on their way to Elm Village would be no trouble at all. She couldn’t think of any reason for Tsukasa to veto the idea. “But…it would be safer…if I did it.”

“I don’t doubt it, but the people of the Republic of Elm can’t rely on you forever. After all, we’re going to be returning home. Dangerous or not, we were always going to have to let them take over eventually.”

“Ah…”

Him saying that reminded Ringo that after they defeated Duke Gustav, Tsukasa had transferred his governmental duties to the people despite knowing the risks involved. And he’d been right to do so. The Prodigies owed a debt to the people of Elm Village, but that aside, they needed to draw the line somewhere regarding their duties to the rest of this world. They had to keep their meddling to a minimum.

“Besides, the mere fact that there are now examples to work off of will make it substantially easier for technology to progress. People might maintain the old ones, expand on them, let them gather dust… That decision is the newly inaugurated national assembly’s to make.”

Tsukasa had decided to use the Republic of Elm’s first election as the aforementioned line. It was a logical cutoff point, and Ringo nodded in agreement.

I’m sure…they’ll be okay.

As Tsukasa had pointed out, studying an existing model was far easier than inventing something from scratch. Plus, Ringo wouldn’t be leaving this world’s people in the dark on how to manage her equipment. She’d trained plenty of engineers in the workshop she set up in Dulleskoff, the Republic of Elm’s capital. Some of her best pupils, like the imperial exchange student Cranberry, had already learned how to build steam engines and rudimentary generators.

Ringo was sure that the workshop staff would manage just fine.

When the national assembly entered the conversation, Tsukasa, Lyrule, and Ringo continued down the trail of memories.

“Ah, the national assembly…,” Lyrule murmured. “That formed while we were here in Yamato, didn’t it?”

“That’s right. A national assembly is the symbol of a democratic republic, and now, Elm finally has one. I’m a little sad that I didn’t get to see its creation in person. Though…from what Akatsuki tells me, things got a little bumpy.”

A group of scheming politicians had tried to exploit how democracies operated to monopolize Elm’s government for themselves, and they’d engaged in a large-scale conspiracy to that end. When Tsukasa had mentioned risks a moment ago, this was exactly the kind of thing he’d been talking about.

Ringo had heard the story from Bearabbit, so she knew the broad strokes as well.

“As I understand it, the Reform Party, the group against involvement in the Yamato conflict, ultimately won the Republic of Elm’s first national election, and Ms. Juno was installed as speaker. I’m sure you two remember her; she’s the short woman who barged in on that one meeting.”

“The one with the glasses? But wait, wasn’t she against the war? Why did Elm agree to send reinforcements down, then?” Lyrule asked, confused.

“That’s how parliamentary democracies work,” Tsukasa replied. “Reform Party members weren’t the only ones elected into the assembly. The Reform Party outnumbers them, but Ms. Tetra and other members of the Principles Party hold seats, too.

“That means that the Reform Party can’t just unilaterally enact their agenda. If they want to pass policies, they need to convince the Principles Party to go along with them.

“That process causes all sorts of different ideas, viewpoints, and opinions to clash and form solutions that no single way of thinking ever could. For example, Speaker Juno revised her original policy of nonresistance and adopted some of the Principles Party’s stances.

“That’s what makes parliamentary democracy so incredible. It’s an example my own government could stand to learn from.”

“But that…has to be hard…on the assembly members,” Ringo said, voicing the first thought that came to mind. What Tsukasa had described was certainly an amazing part of the parliamentary system. However, it couldn’t be wonderful all the time. If nothing else, it had one big downside that even a political layperson like Ringo could spot—a slow response time. Having a government comprised of multiple contradicting opinions robbed that administration of its speed. And how could it not, when everyone needed to get their say on every issue that came up?

As someone who did a fair bit of programming, that sort of organizational structure left Ringo exhausted at the mere thought. She’d never use a program so riddled with processing loops. It would put too much strain on the hard disk for too little gain.

Tsukasa nodded at Ringo’s assessment and gave her an ever-so-slightly-wry smile. “Whenever they want to get the tiniest thing done, they have to gather the whole assembly, and that puts a major strain on its members. They’re probably cursing us angels for setting up the rules that way.”

“Not at all.” Lyrule was quick to shut down Tsukasa’s self-deprecation. “Before you all showed up, peasants were seen as subhuman. You were the ones who brought in a new era by smashing down the walls between nobles and commoners. We’re all so grateful to you.”

She looked straight at Tsukasa, eyes brimming with appreciation and respect.

Upon seeing Lyrule’s expression…

…Ringo felt her heart throb violently as she broke out in an unpleasant sweat.

“But gratitude isn’t the only emotion I feel for you.”

Lyrule continued gazing at Tsukasa as she went on, and Ringo’s panic deepened. She realized that although she sat beside Lyrule, in that moment, or perhaps for the whole day…

…Lyrule’s blue eyes didn’t register her presence.

“Tsukasa, when this whole business with the evil dragon is over…would you mind if I took a little bit of your time? There’s something I very dearly wish to tell you.”

A shudder ran through Ringo’s whole body.

According to prodigy physician Keine Kanzaki, women had the ability to dilate their pupils when looking at people they were in love with to make themselves appear more adorable. That’s precisely what Lyrule was doing. Her eyes flitted downward occasionally out of embarrassment, yet they shone with intense affection. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her lips had a bewitchingly moist sheen to them.

The emotions she’d kept shut in her heart were now plain on her face.

Even as a fellow woman, Ringo felt breathless in the face of Lyrule’s beauty.

Tsukasa’s eyes went wide with shock for a moment at the love in Lyrule’s expression…

“Sure. Once everything’s finished, I’ll hear you out.”

…and he gave his reply.

A delighted Lyrule bowed slightly. “I’ll head on back, then. I’ll see you there, Ringo.” Her long hair swayed as she returned to the girls’ wagon.

Ringo watched her go, heart raging like the sea in a storm.

“~~~~!”

All the blood had drained from Ringo’s lips, and she bit down on her lower one. Her chest felt like it was in the grips of a vise, and she couldn’t get the sound of her heartbeat out of her ears. Lyrule’s words echoed louder than her pulse, however.

“So…once your work here is done, and you all go back to your own world…I’m going to confess to Tsukasa…”

If only that moment could have lasted forever…

What a foolish wish that had been. Ringo knew full well that it was never going to happen.

Lyrule was serious about this.

There were times when she acted unbelievably bold because, like Ringo, she understood the sort of person Tsukasa was. They knew that he’d end up alone if they didn’t make a move.

“I…”

The question was, how did Tsukasa feel about Lyrule? Ringo had no idea. Still, she harbored no delusions about being able to beat Lyrule in a head-to-head. Lyrule possessed perfect, doll-like features, radiant blond hair, eyes like tiny starry skies, and a figure that positively exuded femininity. Ringo lost in every category.

If Lyrule managed to seize the initiative, the love Ringo had secretly harbored since middle school might meet its end without her ever being able to tell him how she felt.

I don’t want that.

The thought was horrible. She couldn’t bear it.

This was her only chance.

Ringo needed to tell him. Now.

She needed to get the jump on Lyrule.

Otherwise, she was doomed.

Knowing that, Ringo opened her mouth…

“I—I…um…! I also…should be…heading back.”

…but all she was able to do was flee.

Ringo got down from the back of the wagon and returned to the girls’ one, leaving Tsukasa alone. She hadn’t been able to get the words out. The moment she opened her mouth to try…

“You should never have been born.”

…the image of her mother’s face surfaced in her mind and froze her.

Now Ringo understood. All that stuff about looks was just an excuse. The truth was that she was simply scared that someone she cared about would reject her again. And that fear overpowered her love. The proof…was Ringo’s heart, which had been pounding so hard it hurt moments ago, yet it had settled quickly.

Ringo didn’t feel jealous of Lyrule or despondent over her unrequited love. She was relieved that she hadn’t been able to get the words out.

She’d never been at Lyrule’s level. She wasn’t a real contender in the contest that was love.

I’m not even qualified to be disappointed…

Ringo squeezed her slender shoulders and dug in her nails.

She hated that she was too relieved to so much as cry in regret.

After being left on his own just outside the tented wagon, Tsukasa cast his red and blue eyes up at the snow-speckled night sky and let out a foggy exhale.

“…Hahhh.”

How long? No, that’s wrong.

He quickly reconsidered the question.

Then…

“How long are you going to keep pretending to be surprised, Tsukasa Mikogami?”

…he spoke to himself almost contemptuously.

Tsukasa wasn’t so dense as to not realize what Lyrule wanted to talk about. Her expression made it obvious. He understood the sort of feelings she had.

His heart pounded not because her feelings had thrown him for a loop. He was torn up because he hadn’t noticed until now.

Tsukasa Mikogami wasn’t prone to overconfidence, but at the same time, he made sure not to underestimate himself. For better or worse, he was a person who understood his own capabilities exceedingly well. Thus, he could say with certainty that someone with his powers of observation should have noticed the signs that Lyrule was in love. Yet he’d remained ignorant until the moment she confessed.

Why?

The answer was simple.

It was because he’d elected not to notice that he was already aware.

“I’m such a piece of shit.”

He was so livid with himself that he cursed. His nails dug into his chest as though to gouge out his heart. This might well have been the first time in his life he ever felt such self-loathing.

At the same time, his cold, ruthless side shot him a question.

Even if you did notice how she felt, would you have been capable of doing anything besides pretending that you didn’t?

“…”

The answer arrived quickly.

He wouldn’t have been able to do a thing.

Had he acknowledged Lyrule’s feelings, he still wouldn’t have been able to answer them. Tsukasa didn’t dislike her; if anything…he greatly cared for her.

But…

“You killed your own father for ‘the people’? For complete strangers? You’re insane!”

“Such hubris—and from a common impostor. We cannot save anyone.”

“If, knowing that you are but a common man, you would still try to aid as many as you can, know, too, that not a soul shall be able to accompany you on the harsh path you tread.”

Tsukasa Mikogami was unequivocally unqualified to be loved, and he knew it, so he feigned obliviousness. He didn’t want to deal with the fact that the only answer he could give Lyrule was the one she didn’t want.

However…now that she intended to press him for an answer, he’d have to give her one. Silence was no longer an option. If there was a silver lining, it was that Lyrule hadn’t verbally expressed the affection so present in her eyes yet. Depending on what Neuro did, they might find themselves embroiled in combat as soon as tomorrow. Tsukasa and the others would do everything in their power to keep Lyrule safe, but she’d still be embroiled in more danger than back at the Byakkokan Checkpoint. Tsukasa didn’t wish to upset her right before such a large fight.

“…”

Tsukasa sighed heavily, disappointed that he was considering things on those terms. He was disgusted with himself. Even now, he schemed to manipulate Lyrule’s feelings for his gain.

“I think Merchant said it best…”

Masato had once accused Tsukasa of being completely crazy, and Tsukasa was inclined to agree. Tsukasa would never be so passionate about one person that everything else ceased to matter, and that was all the more reason why he wasn’t qualified to receive another’s love.

There was no greater tragedy in life than loving someone who couldn’t love you back.

A kind girl like Lyrule shouldn’t have to sacrifice herself for someone so broken.

Tsukasa had no idea.

He’d chosen the Tomino Basin as the location for the showdown with Neuro. Unbeknownst to him, it would soon become the site of a terrible tragedy.

When the day of reckoning arrived, fate dealt the Prodigies the worst hand imaginable.