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Published at 18th of January 2024 10:30:41 AM


Chapter .139

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A collecting robot──which had been able to communicate with the Ark once a day for about a month, was shot down with three gunshots.

Hit by gunfire, sparks flew from the shattered robot.

As soon as he appeared in the room, the Commander, without any warning, raised his assault rifle and fired.

"Commander... What are you doing?!"

Dorothy protested with still somewhat vacant eyes at the sudden violent act.

Without responding to her, he aimed the assault rifle at the floor and activated the safety.

"What's going on, Captain?!"

"Enemy attack!?"

During the 6-hour break──whether it could really be called a break or not, permission for free movement had been granted to the remaining 12 members of the squad who were in different war zones. They rushed in upon hearing the gunshots, sensing that something was amiss.

"It's an accidental discharge. Don't make a fuss."

No freaking way──thought Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Crimson, Snow White, and the other 12 who rushed in and looked at the remains of the collecting robot that had been shot down. For an accidental discharge, the shots were too accurate.

"A new order has been issued. The Goddess is moving from the main war zone... Prepare to move in 15 minutes."

"...That's sudden? The closure of Ark is scheduled for tomorrow..."

"...That's how it is in the battlefield. Now, hurry up. I'll be waiting outside."

He shrugged his shoulders at Rapunzel's puzzled expression, and turned on his heel to avoid stepping on the ejected casings on the floor. He gestured to the members of the squad who had rushed in to go outside.

"Is it really just a move?"

"...Of course not. Sergeant Ganey, distribute all remaining ammo and rations."

"Understood. I'll bring the truck. Private, come with me."

He conveyed a meaning through his words. Sergeant Ganey nodded and ran out with the Private.

"What in the world..."

"...The thing we feared the most happened. I had thought it wouldn't come to this, but..."

"So, what's happening rea---- Ah... the worst-case scenario, huh?"

The surviving non-commissioned officers and soldiers gathered information from his demeanor, which he did not speak much about.

──Even though it was a damn war...

──Isn't the sewer better than this?

──Let us at least have a somewhat better ending.....

Each of them sighed, and amidst the sound of the engine, a 5-ton 6x6 wheeled drive truck driven by Sergeant Ganey arrived.

Sergeant Ganey got out of the driver's seat, and the Private jumped down from the cargo bed. Guided by the moonlight, the two unloaded ammunition boxes and food from the bed one after another, opening the lids.

"Distribute the ammo! 180 rounds per person! Machine guns, take 1000 rounds! Grenades, two each!"

"Is this all you have?! What about grenades!?"

"We'll steal them from the rear ammo depot! First, take what's given to you!"

"Seriously, please help us, okay!?"

The squad members lined up neatly in front of the truck received the last remaining ammunition and quickly started loading them into their empty magazines. With this, all the ammunition the squad had in stock was gone. Unless Sergeant Ganey came back with more ammo from the rear depot, they had no choice but to throw fist-sized fragments scattered around the remains of the buildings.

Finally, it seemed they had finished packing their belongings. They emerged from the abandoned building, each widening their eyes at the unfolding scene before them.

"This is..."

"Commander, what's happening?"

It was a situation reminiscent of just before launching a full-scale attack. The squad members, releasing all their ammunition and appearing ready for combat, appeared unusually busy.

Snow White, having just finished distributing ammunition, asked the commander, who had not answered her question. The commander, without responding, presented a helmet filled with combat rations to his sister with silver hair.

"Take whatever you like."

It was incomprehensible. He shrugged his shoulders at her, looking up at the tall commander with golden eyes, and pushed the helmet filled with combat rations toward his sister.

"Company squad! Attention!"

As soon as the highest-ranking non-commissioned officer, Sergeant Ganey, gave the command, the sound of armed squad members' boot heels coming together echoed in unison.

"Are you ready, soldiers?"

"OORAH!"

It didn't need to be said. As they responded in unison, imitating the commander, the squad leader, and the platoon leader, he nodded.

"Now I order you. Everyone, DIE.That's all."

"OORAH!"

Even though they were clearly ordered to die, they responded without hesitation, even showing signs of joy and understanding.

There was no need for confusing instructions. Just saying it was enough.

Sergeant Ganey saluted, and a quick salute was returned with synchronized raised hands. He returned it while checking the faces of his comrades lined up, then lowered his right arm.

"Move! Board the vehicles!"

"Board the vehicles!"

"Take care, girls!"

"Stay well!"

They bid farewell one by one and jumped onto the truck bed. As they watched in astonishment, Sergeant Ganey appeared in front of them.

"This is for Little Miss."

"Could you stop calling me that?"

"It's because you're little. Deal with it."

Smiling at Snow White, who frowned, Sergeant Ganey pushed several magazines filled with ammunition into the helmet. He then handed some magazines to Dorothy and sighed.

"I'm sorry I can only spare this much. Forgive me. Use them wisely."

"No, what is..."

Just as she was about to ask what he meant, Sergeant Ganey straightened his back, saluted Snow White, and sent a salute to them. It was a beautiful salute. So much so they are entranced by it.

"Please be safe."

As Sergeant Ganey lowered his right arm, he turned on his heel, rushed to the truck, and jumped into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, lights illuminated, and as soon as they thought the vehicle had started, it began to move.

As the squad members waved from the truck bed, the commander finally spoke.

"Let's move. I'll explain along the way."

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"We... can't enter the Ark?"

"That's right."

"C-Commander, your sense of humor has improved! But, please consider the situation and time..."

"Dorothy."

Under the moonlit night road, which could hardly be called a road anymore, the commander called her name briefly as they walked through the scattered debris on the pavement, too small to find a foothold.

Turning around, he gently shook his head from side to side. His personality wasn't so twisted as to make such a joke.

"No, it's a lie! Because... they're preparing the best treatment, and... rewards that can make you forget sacrifices and struggles----!!"

"Building a giant statue, immortalizing you in books, it could sound like that too."

"...So, we have been betrayed..."

The voice filled with more than just disappointment caused Dorothy's steps to come to a halt. Realizing this, he walked over, reaching his left hand to her shoulder to encourage her to move forward.

"Don't touch me!"

The moment he placed his hand on her exposed shoulder, it was shrugged off. Feeling pain and unintentionally furrowing his brows, he was met with the unmistakable fury in her amethyst eyes as she looked up at him.

"Stop pretending! I don't need comfort! You're just like those who betrayed us, part of the same humanity!"

"..."

There was no response. He could only maintain silence.

As Dorothy, pierced by the glittering amethyst eyes, silenced him, she turned on her heel to return along the path they came from. Snow White extended an arm to stop her.

"Where are you going?"

"To the Ark! Paradise is right beneath our feet! If we enter, if we just enter...!"

"That paradise is rejecting us. ...I don't want to say it's inevitable, but..."

"..No...No choice..?"

Scarlet uttered a single word, and Dorothy, with an expression that seemed to say she couldn't believe it, looked at her with vacant eyes, and trembling lips.

"...No choice...? Unbelievable! What was the point of all the hardships we've endured until now? Everything we've done so far... has become worthless! All in vain!"

"Dorothy, that's enough."

"...What's the point... of all the efforts we made... if Lilith and Red Hood also... died in vain!"

"Dorothy!"

A male voice shattered the silence. Her body flinched involuntarily.

"Please... don't say any more. Their sacrifices... were not in vain. I want to believe that."

The commander, with a few days' worth of stubble on his jaw and around his mouth, approached her, placing both hands on her shoulders and slightly bending down. He peered into her amethyst eyes and took a deep breath.

"To be honest... even if you think it's a futile sacrifice, that's fine. However, truly attributing meaning to that death and determining its value is not within our capacity as those living in the present. Someone in the future holds that right."

There are many who declare that there is no value in death— that all deaths are equally worthless. He finds such individuals to be regrettable. Surely, they have not experienced receiving someone's feelings entrusted to them. Pity, indeed.

Very sad... incredibly pitiful.

"You are the GODDESS. The goddess of victory."

Once he closed his eyes, the commander then, after exhaling deeply, looked into Dorothy's eyes again.

"But... I see you all as girls. Girls who are kinder than anyone, who have been hurt more than anyone, yet remain noble and beautiful, continuing to fight. I truly apologize for relying on you and manipulating you until the end due to the selfish circumstances of adults. I'm truly sorry. It's not an issue that can be resolved by apologizing. However... as a soldier, as an adult—I am genuinely sorry."

He will never say, "Please forgive me." He cannot say it. He doesn't have the right. That, he knows better than anyone.

Above all— he probably doesn't even think about being forgiven.

After letting go of Dorothy's shoulders, he looked at them again and spoke.

"Escape to the west from here. By tomorrow at 10 a.m... no matter what, get as far away as you can. You should be able to cover a good distance."

It's hard to believe there's only one nuclear attack. The possibility of conducting a high-altitude nuclear burst (HANE) and using the powerful electromagnetic pulse (EMP) generated during that time couldn't be ruled out.

The exact time for the re-entry of the ballistic nuclear warheads was not accurately noted. There was also a possibility that it was a Multiple Independently Targetable Reentry Vehicle (MIRV). He urged them to run away as quickly and as far as possible.

"...Wait. What about you, the commander, and everyone else?"

"Wait... What about the commander and everyone else?"

Suddenly, Rapunzel realized.

"If it's you guys...," he replied as if the number of his own and the remaining members had never been taken into account from the beginning.

"No way...!"

A dreadful premonition simultaneously ran through her entire body.

"At dawn tomorrow, the division will launch a full-scale attack to support the retreat of the entire army. It's to draw in the Lappland Brigade. We'll be joining that. Me and those guys too."

"NO!! That's just heading straight to death!"

A loud voice attracted Rapture— he knew that. Although it was a relatively stable war zone, it was the end. He couldn't say for sure that there were no enemy aircraft.

He— or they—were thinking of scenes like that. Rapunzel realized this and, with a bad premonition running through her entire body, grabbed his sleeve. It was an expression of her determination not to let them go.

"At least! We have to fight too!"

"That's impossible. I order you as the commander. I cannot accept that."

What a convenient choice of words. And it was also appreciated. By saying this, he knew that they couldn't refuse. Especially emphasizing it as an order from the commander made Rapunzel's thin arm that grabbed his sleeve tremble.

"If we don't do this... the entire army deployed for defense won't be able to retreat. If 4,000 die... well, about 70% or so should somehow survive. And, we—can't enter Ark either."

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"...Eh?"

"...What?"

Those who should be humanity— him and his squad— can't enter Ark. What he said was incomprehensible. As soon as the eyes of everyone, including Dorothy's amethyst eyes, were directed at him, he shrugged his shoulders.

"We... are not human. At best, we're monsters, creatures wearing human skins."

From the outbreak of the war, later known as the First Rapture Invasion, until now, those who continued to fight, paying a sacrifice that would probably amount to 90% of the battalion and company, would undoubtedly be heroes. Perhaps, they would be worthy of being passed down as legends.

However, it would never happen.

They, like them, ended up being manipulated by the selfish circumstances and reasons of adults.

"Originally, we were supposed to be involved in the retreat support. Somehow, we ended up with 4,000 companions..."

"You too... were betrayed, so why...!!"

Even at this stage, why did he still want to fight? Dorothy expressed her disbelief explicitly,as if seeing something unbelievable. In response, he smiled bitterly.

"This is our job. We haven't received a salary for three months, though."

He knew it was an unprofitable job. However, he couldn't think of any other job he could do or would want to do. It was a gathering of such individuals. They were a group of fools to an irredeemable extent, understanding that even death was included in the salary.

"Strategic recovery is no longer possible at this point. Maybe tactically as well. Reclaiming the lost ground is almost impossible in the current situation. However, no matter how we try to sugarcoat it... ah, yes... it's a futile death."

There are less than 6 hours left until dawn. In other words, the self-destruction of the assaulting force is approaching moment by moment.

"In all likelihood, it will be written in the textbooks that His Excellency the division commander violated orders, moved the unit on his own, and tried to achieve results before returning to Ark, causing the soldiers to die in vain, causing them to die like dogs."

In fact, it would probably turn out that way— a vivid scene strangely floated in his mind.

"So, let our deaths give meaning to your future lives. If you all survive, we win. It won't be in vain. We could die joyfully."

"Isn't that....a bit patronizing... don't you think?"

"I have no intention of being so. This is... um... yes..."

While Dorothy's voice trembled and hesitated, he found an appropriate expression, eventually arriving at what he thought it would be.

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"It's just stubbornness."

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As a soldier, as an adult, or as a human.

There was the figure of a single individual who could only live with stubbornness and an awkward way of giving up, a foolish and unsalvageable group.

"Now, it's time. Go."

"I'll fight too."

"....Snow White."

The elder brother sighed at his stubborn younger sister.

Although the gold eyes, which vividly displayed the strength of will, were preferable, she was still a bit disobedient.

"It's an order, didn't I say that?"

"Then I'll resist the order."

"Who taught you that?"

"It was you though?"

"I don't remember being such a rebellious soldier..."

Resisting orders probably meant the omission of "if necessary." If that's the case, she might have judged that now is the time.

Letting out a grand sigh, he—along the way, after removing the returned helmet, scratched his long-haired head several times and eventually muttered, "Can't be helped."

"Come."

Just after putting on the helmet again, a low voice carried a gentle tone. She, who nodded to his beckoning, approached her older brother. The voice seemed strangely familiar and nostalgic.

"Armed?"

"The Seventh Dwarf's control system is fine. Ammunition is a bit worrying, but we'll manage somehow."

Upon his acknowledgment, she reached out to the assault rifle hanging from a sling over his shoulder. 

"...This is embarrassing, you know?"

"You were happy about it before, weren't you?"

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

She didn't remember, and while that made him a bit disappointed,...well it didn't matter.

Rather, he felt it was good that way.

"Code O1308521."

"Wha—!?"

Suddenly, golden eyes widened, and for an instant, they emitted a strong light.

"Activate the memory system temporarily. Subsequently, implement partial memory deletion."

"Command...er...!"

Limited memory deletion. The target was the commander himself.

A one-time function installed in her, likely the youngest among them, the prototype Nikkē. It was equipped to temporarily activate the memory system with the commander's authorization, enabling the erasure of some gruesome memories from the battlefield to prevent unnecessary mental stress. It was explained that it could only be used once due to the strain on the brain, and he had never expected it to be used for such a purpose.

"N--oooo...!"

"...Forgive me."

For the functionality to fulfill its purpose, memories shared with him were now being erased. Her body trembled, her golden eyes flickered frantically.

"Big...brot---...!!"

The moment when her body's trembling was about to stop, the word she was about to utter remained unspoken.

His arms caught her as her armed body seemed about to collapse like a broken puppet. It was a close call, but he somehow endured it.

"Why... would you... do this...?"

"...To my little sister who called me a brother, it's pointless to leave memories of a guy rushing to his death like this. Because she's kind. She'd surely worry about it for a long time."

He wiped away the tears flowing from the corner of her closed eyelids with the fingertips clad in his gloves. Then, he entrusted Snow White's figure to Rapunzel and Scarlet who had approached.

"...You're really clumsy, aren't you?"

"...Hehe. sometimes, I can't help but think, maybe if I could live more intelligently..."

Understanding that he couldn't become that smart, he sighed once. He—once again, for the last time—stroked the head of the younger sister held by the two, with soft silver hair growing on her head.

"Are you going?"

"Yeah, I'm going."

"I see... Commander."

"What is it?"

"Enjoy yourself to the fullest."

With her piece said, Scarlet conveyed. He returned the nod to her amber gaze.

"...Can't you just not go?"

"I'm your commander, but more than that, I'm also the squad leader for those guys. Can't abandon my siblings.----Oh...Forgot to mention it, Dorothy."

Thinking about the faces of the remaining 12 soldiers who were probably entrenched in the trenches by now on the front line, he called out Dorothy's name while explaining why he couldn't go with Rapunzel.

Approaching her, he rummaged through the pocket of the frayed combat pants and pulled out a necklace, handing it to Dorothy, holding her hand.

"Careless of me. I forgot. I'll return this to you."

"...Understood."

Nodding, Dorothy turned her gaze to the side, probably where it was.

Sensing that, the commander surveyed everyone.

"This is the last order. I Dissolve the command of the Goddess Unit."

Now they were free from any bindings. Just one word—dissolve. With that word, what tied them down was gone.

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"Now, go and live."

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There was no reason to stay here anymore.

The one who used to be the commander urged them on.

Hesitating, looking up at him multiple times, but eventually, Rapunzel and Scarlet, carrying Snow White, turned on their heels.

As he watched their retreating figures, he noticed that the owner of amethyst eyes was focused on him.

"What's wrong? Hurry and go."

"...What will you do from now on?"

"...Even now, I'm just sullying the last seat of a soldier. Responsibilities and duties should be fulfilled. It might be too much responsibility and duty for a mere human like me to bear, but..."

"...Is that so..."

"Yeah. Now, hurry."

Once again, urging her—Dorothy bowed her head. Then, she turned her heels after sending a glance and gesturing to the side. 

...Somehow, it felt like a strange sense of lightness had come over him.

Rummaging through the pouch of the body armor, he lightly shook a crushed soft pack of cigarettes, with a few remaining ones still intact. One slightly bent cigarette jumped out, and after clenching it in his teeth, he lit it with an oil lighter.

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"─Please don't die."

Dorothy, who turned her back, softly and delicately uttered these words without facing him.

To that hope, he did not respond with any words.

The fleeting hope melted away into the night's silence.

With a faint lingering feeling, she also departed.

The one left to see them off was just one person. That man, who showed a slightly cracked expression, turned his heels after seeing them off.

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Cheers echoed from the numerous trenches that crisscrossed.

Someone from the Air Force, who had requested a song, threw a bottle in an arc toward him.

As he reached out and caught it in mid-air, it was a glass bottle filled with amber liquid.

"─Consider it a tip! Unfortunately, it's just homemade moonshine!"

How did someone manage to bring such a thing into the trench? He skillfully removed the cork seal with a knife, put the mouth of the bottle in his teeth, and tilted it back.

It's not bad, but it's not delicious either. It has an indescribable taste. The cheap flavor emphasizes the subtle taste even more.

"─Honestly, you could have gone with those girls as you were."

"─...That's impossible."

Sitting at the bottom of the trench, facing him, was the figure of a sergeant holding an assault rifle.

After taking a sip of the moonshine and extending his arm to offer it, the de facto vice officer, the highest-ranking non-commissioned officer in the platoon, received the bottle.

With one sip, two sips, the cheap-tasting liquid was swallowed with a throaty sound, and soon, the smell of alcohol accompanied a deep exhale.

"...Yes, you've always been that kind of person. Since the old days."

"─Heh, me as a clumsy person is still the same, I suppose."

A thick arm intruded between them. The sergeant's hand took back the bottle, and with a throaty sound, he swallowed the moonshine.

One by one, the bottle was passed around, and its contents diminished.

Homemade liquor can cause health problems due to distillation in unsanitary conditions or the inclusion of methyl alcohol, especially in a trench environment.

However, in this place, there was not a single person concerned about health.

After all, they couldn't view the sunset today. Anyone who developed delicate concerns about health would be nonexistent.

Over 4,000 holed up in the trench. They no longer formed the body of a division. The various units under them were also far from meeting their full capacity. The actual number of soldiers forming the units was less than 50% of the original establishment.

Whether they would participate in the upcoming battle or not—only the soldiers and officers who hadn't been informed were left wondering.

The division commander probably chose to conceal it. It might have been necessary to prevent a decline in morale and combat motivation. However, for them, not informing these over 4,000 soldiers about it, making them feel satisfied by conducting the final all-out attack here, and assigning them the mission of diverting the enemy was a kind of fulfillment.

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- Protecting families -

- For the revival of humanity -

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Each one had decided their reason to die. There was fear, but a sense of mission greater than that existed.

Although they had been on the defensive, holed up in the bunker trench until now, the division commander had decided to shift from defense to offense.

Mobilizing all the remaining artillery possessed by the division and loading the last shells and propellant, after a preparatory fire following the launch of two red signal flares, they would charge.

When they reached the attack limit, the advance would end. Subsequently, they would thoroughly switch to defense and buy time until the entire army retreated.

There was no actual operational plan. However, in a situation without support or assistance, a simple plan was the best. Simple and clear plans could be ingrained in the mind.

They were a group of retreating survivors from various countries. Even though communication wasn't smooth due to differences in language and customs, it was evident that it would be difficult to thoroughly disseminate complicated operational plans at this gathering.

From here on, it was a matter of willpower. According to the division commander's orders, female soldiers and soldiers were already moved to the rear.

As military personnel—no, this was likely a retroactive reason.

Over 4,000 were eagerly awaiting the moment of the assault. It wasn't for such reasons.

Everyone here was someone's father, someone's brother or sister, and someone's son. With that determination, they were fighting and dying now.

As their ancestors had done—by some twist of fate, the blood flowing in their veins was the blood of ancestors who had risked their lives to resist invaders and oppressors.

That blood commanded them.

Fight, it said.

"Battle of Chapultepec, Battle of Derna in Tripoli... Well, we've come quite a distance. I wonder what our predecessors would say if they saw this pitiful sight."

"Hmmm, ....well done?"

"Yeah... that's... not bad."

"Yeah, it's not bad. It's excellent."

The last one—the last cigarette was clamped in his teeth, and he lit it with an oil lighter.

This was truly the last smoke. While exhaling the smoke of the bent and damp cigarette, he reached out his right arm to the sergeant sitting across from him.

Then the war comrades who became the highest-ranking non-commissioned officers extended their right arms, and a handshake was exchanged.

"Thank you for sticking with me until now."

"The honor is mine. I'm proud to fight alongside you until the end."

When their handshake parted, several figures emerged from the trench where they were holed up, passing through a passage leading from another trench.

"Is everything ready?"

"Your Excellency..."

These were the headquarters personnel, including the division commander. Not only the nervously spectacled division staff officer, but other staff officers were also armed, wearing body armor.

"The chief of staff was asked to step back to the rear. He wouldn't listen to orders, so I ended up hitting him..."

"Didn't he want to avoid taking responsibility?"

"That might be true."

The duty to report and explain the foolish actions the division had taken would fall on the unfortunate chief of staff.

But the division commander lightly rubbed his aching right hand, wanting him to consider it part of his salary.

"Let's get started. It's daybreak."

The division flag awarded to them was held high by the standard-bearer's arm.

With the flag in hand, the division commander climbed a ladder set up in the trench, stood on the ground, and turned back to look.

In the eyes of the division commander, the disorderly military uniforms and the crude army of various soldiers under his command in the trench could be seen. However, it must have been apparent that there was no dimness in the gleaming eyes from among the many trenches.

One by one, soldiers armed with weapons stood up. The battered and bruised officers and soldiers who stood up as if squeezing out their last strength crawled out of the trenches one after another.

A squad, led by him, climbed the ladder from the trench with the determination to exert their last bit of strength.

In the distance, the appearance of the devastated city, ravaged by continuous combat, spread out. And far beyond that—lights emitting from the red and ominous monocular were visible.

Taking the last drag reluctantly and exhaling the purple smoke from the cigarette sucked almost to the base, he tossed it into the portable ashtray as usual, and a signal pistol was handed to him.

"The last shot, you should take it."

"Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately, the headquarters personnel have more experience with desk work than firing guns. We can't afford any mistakes."

----I see. Well then— he accepted the signal pistol. He checked that it was a break-open type and that there were bullets loaded.

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Behind, the firing of artillery began.

The last shell, the last propellant, was pushed into the barrel of the artillery, and the fired shells began hitting the distant target one after another.

Amidst the thunderous sound of the shell bursts hitting the air, the division commander glanced down at his wristwatch.

A preparatory fire that could only last for a few minutes. The final shell would be fired soon.

At that moment, it was necessary to shoot the signal flare illuminating flare without missing.

Suddenly, over the devastated city, over the land, a dazzling light poured in from the east.

It was daybreak.

—Simultaneously, the final shell was launched.

The echoes of the gunfire resounded grandly, and the now silent artillery had completed its mission.

—Soon, the final shells landed.

In the midst of the earth-shaking roar and shockwaves hitting their bodies, the division commander's right arm was raised overhead. Not missing a beat, his left arm was also raised—almost simultaneously, the trigger of the signal pistol was pulled.

Bloody red blossomed in the air.

Two red signal flares.

"Don't underestimate... humanity...!!"

With a roar that reverberated from the depths of his throat, the division commander tossed away the signal pistol. Swiftly pulling the large lever of the assault rifle suspended from a sling, he turned to face behind him.

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  CHARGEEEEEEE!!!!!

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This might have been the last large-scale resistance attempted by humanity in this war.

As soon as the division commander roared with a voice that did not shame the situation, the thunderous response of thousands of shouts echoed.

Defeated soldiers gathered from all over the world expressed their intention to charge in their respective languages, starting a vigorous advance, trampling the desolate earth.

The order to charge had been given. It wouldn't stop anymore. No one could stop it.

They surged forward towards destruction.

Without looking back, they simply moved forward, forward.

All one could say was that they did well.

Someone pushing forward became a piece of flesh, drenched in blood, yet still raised a loud, savage cry, stepping over the corpses of unknown comrades.

Close combat unfolded, shooting at enemy aircraft from close range. The dull, wet sound that echoed was either from being crushed by enemy aircraft or shattered into fine particles by the large-caliber shells fired by the enemy aircraft, like ripe fruit.

The division commander, leading the charge, also fell during the battle.

Half of the flag bearer who was advancing beside him was crushed by a shell, and at the moment he tried to grab the fallen flagpole of the flag that had fallen to the ground and raise it again, aiming for the moment when he stopped moving, the enemy aircraft's shell blew away both of his legs.

Just before the division commander, who fell forward holding the flag, fell—powerful arms reached out as if to snatch the flagpole he held.

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 ADVANCEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

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The flag, effortlessly held aloft by the left arm, fluttered, and a young man with a manly face who grabbed the flagpole while firing an assault rifle aimed at the enemies, shouted encouragement to those following him. The division commander, with a faint smile, breathed his last.

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Author notes: The segment about Snow White's limited memory erasure is not originally in the source material, so please forgive any discrepancies. Perhaps, since she is the youngest in the unit, it would have been good if such a function had been included... And from the next episode, we plan to return to the main story. (I apologize if you were hoping for more interludes; probably not many of you are…)





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