The only sound echoing in the quiet room was the tapping of a keyboard.
Inside the Central Archives, the air was incredibly still. In this silence, Moore, dressed in a suit, sat down in front of a neatly arranged desktop computer. He felt a bit frustrated as the search results he desired weren't showing up. Despite this, he continued typing new words on the keyboard.
"...Heretic."
He tapped the Enter key, and a faint electronic sound resonated. Search results appeared on the screen, but...
"...People with faith conflicting with Catholic doctrines in the old times... Is this a character's name in a game?... A brand of alcohol..."
No, this was not what he was looking for.
He scrolled down the screen, moving his gaze over the search results.
Had the initial word been too abstract? He added a space and typed "on the ground" to further specify the search term.
After pressing Enter, it seemed the search results had become more focused.
"...Analysis of the unidentified Nikke... Nikke who surrendered/defected... Enhanced humans related to Nikke... sigh..."
He clicked and read through the articles on the page that caught his interest, but they were all filled with conspiracy theories and unsubstantiated rumors.
Moore let out a low growl and returned to the search bar. He deleted "on the ground" and "Heretic" with the delete key.
He felt like he wouldn't find any relevant information even if he continued searching in the public archives. Anis and Neon had gone all the way to the Outer Rim to gather information about the Heretic for him. However, Moore's prediction was that it might end up being a fruitless effort.
He hadn't expected the information to be this scarce. Considering how few witnesses or contacts there might have been and, above all, how few survivors might have returned with that information, the scarcity of information seemed almost inevitable.
Nevertheless, there was still time left to use.
"What should I search for..."
Moore pondered. Just then, a deep, rumbling voice echoed in his mind.
.
.
[Kratos Project. Does this sound familiar to you?]
.
.
Just as he remembered what the talkative basta*d had unexpectedly asked, a slight headache struck him.
The headache was as bothersome as ever. He disliked hospitals, but he considered getting a check-up. He tapped the keyboard again while thinking about it.
"Kratos...!--TCH!?"
He uttered the word softly as he typed, but suddenly, a much stronger headache than before surged through his skull. Clenching his back teeth, he managed to withstand the pain and glanced at the search results.
"Greek mythology god..."
Moore clicked on the encyclopedia-like page that appeared at the top and read through the overview.
The God born from Styx, the goddess of the Underworld, and Pallas, the eldest son of the Titan gods. He was the god who governed intimidation, power, or strength, and his name meant "power" in Greek. His siblings included Nike, the goddess of victory; Bia, who governed bravery, prowess, and violence; and Zelos, who personified zeal, rivalry, and competition.
"Nike... Nikke."
It wasn't the familiar spelling or pronunciation, but the page stated that this was the correct version of the goddess of victory, Nike.
He clicked on the attached image to enlarge it.
A marble sculpture titled "Nike of Samothrace" appeared. It depicted the goddess of victory landing on the prow of a ship with her arms and head missing, according to the description.
"...It's not much of a confirmation."
None of this information was substantial. He had general knowledge about mythology. However, he wasn't deeply versed in the relationships between gods.
"Hey, mister."
"Sorry, but can you move? Could you?"
While he was grumbling with his arms crossed, he was approached from behind in a somewhat rough tone. When he turned his shoulder to look, two young men in military uniforms stood there. They were probably the same age as him or a little older.
"...There are other desktops available. Please use those. I'm sorry, but I'm busy with research."
As if he had no time for this, he turned his face forward, reaching out to the keyboard to redo the search. But someone's arm, extending from Moore's side, reached out and turned off the desktop's power.
Instantly, the screen went black.
"We've been asking you to move."
"Yeah~~~, sorry about that. Our princess is coming. She always uses this desktop. Please, could you move?"
Moore sighed and pressed the recently cut-off button. The computer started up again, but perhaps due to the sudden power cut, it didn't boot up immediately.
What a hassle. He sighed again.
"...Seems like you don't know which unit we're from. We're from the Central Government Army's First Division," one of them said. "We specialize in anti-terrorism operations... Bro, you're probably a soldier too, right? Don't tell me you don't know us. We're used to rough situations. So, could you please move?"
"...Hah..."
Of all people, it had to be the Central Government Army Squads. In response to the voice from behind revealing their affiliation, Moore sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time.
Although it remained a military organization under the Central Government's control, Moore was assigned to the Nikke Management Division - a unit led by Vice Commander Anderson. Well, he had distanced himself somewhat from that structure now, serving as the outpost base commander while also being appointed as the commander of the Special Operations Task Force.
The two men behind him belonged to the Central Government Army, an organization directly managed and commanded by the Central Government. Moore sarcastically referred to them as the "Parent-Guard Troops," but if they were fellow soldiers, they should be a bit more careful with their words.
"...My apologies. I am from the Nikke Management Division---"
Moore said, turning his chair around to face them. He took out his ID card from the inner pocket of his jacket to identify himself. However, one of them brushed his ID card away with his hand.
"We don't need introductions. Just move already."
"Come on now. Sorry, my friend here has a temper. He's a bit too excited. But, bro, it's your fault too, you know? Just move quietly... and... then..."
As if trying to resolve the situation peacefully, a slightly older man than Moore bent down and picked up Moore's ID card, which had fallen to the floor.
The ID card contained Moore's name, department, and his current rank as Captain, along with a photo of him in his military uniform.
The smile disappeared from the man's face. Gradually, his face turned pale as Moore slowly stood up.
"Sergeant, could you return that?"
"Y-yes!"
"Oi, what the hell's wrong with you?"
He accepted the returned ID card and checked it for any cracks before showing it to the other non-commissioned officer, who seemed ill-tempered.
"You have quite the way with superiors, huh? Does the Central Government Army teach such attitudes to its non-commissioned officers?"
"...What? Superiors...!!! My apologies!!"
"I'm Captain Shaw Moore. Ah, there's no need to apologize. Who is your superior? Is he coming right away? I want to talk."
With an emotionless expression, Moore asked the two sergeants, identified by the rank insignia on their uniform sleeves. Then he remembered something.
"So, when are you going to salute? I'm waiting for it..."
The two sergeants, now standing at attention with heels together, raised their hands in a salute. Moore responded with a casual salute, then lowered his arm and put his ID card back into his jacket pocket.
"...Fair enough. I was starting to worry they didn't teach respect for ranks at the new recruits' boot camp... Well, whatever. Let's continue the conversation with your superior. Summon him/her, right now."
Causing a scene here would be a nuisance. He jerked his chin in a gesture that clearly meant "go outside."
As they passed through the main entrance of the public records office, he stopped. Standing by the sidewalk facing the road, he lit a cigarette and urged the sergeants to contact their superior quickly.
With a pale face, he took out his mobile device. His counterpart on the other end explained the situation in a phone call rather than a text message. Even at a distance, Moore could hear a woman's furious voice coming through the device.
"Captain... She says to please wait for about five minutes."
He nodded slightly as he exhaled purple smoke. If that was the case, he had plenty of time for a smoke.
For the sergeants, it might have felt like an eternity, but for Moore, it was just enough time to savor a cigarette.
Soon, a figure with long hair tied in twin tails, colored in combination of white and ice-green, came running, swaying her tresses, from across the sidewalk.
Presuming that she was his superior, Moore flicked his cigarette into a portable ashtray.
"Captain Moore, yes!?"
The figure that had rushed over in quite a fluster was a woman. She was about a head shorter than him and seemed to be a Second Lieutenant based on her shoulder and rank insignia. She saluted and questioned him, and Moore responded with a light salute while nodding.
"That's right. I asked the sergeants to contact you. Did you hear the situation, Second Lieutenant? Quite... an impressive group of subordinates you have there."
"I deeply apologize for this! It's all due to my lack of guidance!"
"...Fair enough. I promise not to report this incident."
Seeing his own superior bowing and apologizing in person, the sergeants had no choice but to keep silent, their eyes cast down with gritted teeth.
"Both of you, go back immediately! Submit a report on this matter by the end of the day! I'll handle the discipline when I return!"
"...Y-yes...!"
"...I'm deeply sorry...!"
The sergeants saluted Moore and the Second Lieutenant. Moore responded with a casual salute and watched as the two hurriedly left.
"You've had a hard time, Second Lieutenant."
"I'm Privaty. This time, I..."
"I already received an apology earlier. There's no need for another one."
"That's not how I see it. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but... Captain Moore, are you the commander of the Counter Squad?"
When asked by Second Lieutenant Privaty, Moore nodded graciously. There was no need to hide the truth; it was indeed his current position.
Having received his affirmative nod, Privaty heightened her tension, realizing that she mustn't make any mistakes. Not only did she consider one of his subordinate as a rival, but she was also aware of the perception that Vice Commander Anderson doted on his subordinates, including Moore, a member of the Central Government Army.
It wouldn't be wise to let such an opponent go as is, especially considering the risk of her reporting to Vice Commander Anderson.
Privaty had kept her identity as Nikke hidden from her subordinates, but it seemed like contacting the members of the Triangle Unit before arriving here had been the right decision.
"...Do you have some time?"
Naturally, Moore's expression immediately filled with suspicions.
-----
Author Note: In the military, insulting a superior officer is incredibly dangerous (varies depending on each country's military law, but there's a high possibility of facing imprisonment).
In the main game, it seemed like the Central Government Army and the Nike Management Division, where the commanders belong, are separate organizations (with different chains of command), so it feels like this situation.
The only sound echoing in the quiet room was the tapping of a keyboard.
Inside the Central Archives, the air was incredibly still. In this silence, Moore, dressed in a suit, sat down in front of a neatly arranged desktop computer. He felt a bit frustrated as the search results he desired weren't showing up. Despite this, he continued typing new words on the keyboard.
"...Heretic."
He tapped the Enter key, and a faint electronic sound resonated. Search results appeared on the screen, but...
"...People with faith conflicting with Catholic doctrines in the old times... Is this a character's name in a game?... A brand of alcohol..."
No, this was not what he was looking for.
He scrolled down the screen, moving his gaze over the search results.
Had the initial word been too abstract? He added a space and typed "on the ground" to further specify the search term.
After pressing Enter, it seemed the search results had become more focused.
"...Analysis of the unidentified Nikke... Nikke who surrendered/defected... Enhanced humans related to Nikke... sigh..."
He clicked and read through the articles on the page that caught his interest, but they were all filled with conspiracy theories and unsubstantiated rumors.
Moore let out a low growl and returned to the search bar. He deleted "on the ground" and "Heretic" with the delete key.
He felt like he wouldn't find any relevant information even if he continued searching in the public archives. Anis and Neon had gone all the way to the Outer Rim to gather information about the Heretic for him. However, Moore's prediction was that it might end up being a fruitless effort.
He hadn't expected the information to be this scarce. Considering how few witnesses or contacts there might have been and, above all, how few survivors might have returned with that information, the scarcity of information seemed almost inevitable.
Nevertheless, there was still time left to use.
"What should I search for..."
Moore pondered. Just then, a deep, rumbling voice echoed in his mind.
.
.
[Kratos Project. Does this sound familiar to you?]
.
.
Just as he remembered what the talkative basta*d had unexpectedly asked, a slight headache struck him.
The headache was as bothersome as ever. He disliked hospitals, but he considered getting a check-up. He tapped the keyboard again while thinking about it.
"Kratos...!--TCH!?"
He uttered the word softly as he typed, but suddenly, a much stronger headache than before surged through his skull. Clenching his back teeth, he managed to withstand the pain and glanced at the search results.
"Greek mythology god..."
Moore clicked on the encyclopedia-like page that appeared at the top and read through the overview.
The God born from Styx, the goddess of the Underworld, and Pallas, the eldest son of the Titan gods. He was the god who governed intimidation, power, or strength, and his name meant "power" in Greek. His siblings included Nike, the goddess of victory; Bia, who governed bravery, prowess, and violence; and Zelos, who personified zeal, rivalry, and competition.
"Nike... Nikke."
It wasn't the familiar spelling or pronunciation, but the page stated that this was the correct version of the goddess of victory, Nike.
He clicked on the attached image to enlarge it.
A marble sculpture titled "Nike of Samothrace" appeared. It depicted the goddess of victory landing on the prow of a ship with her arms and head missing, according to the description.
"...It's not much of a confirmation."
None of this information was substantial. He had general knowledge about mythology. However, he wasn't deeply versed in the relationships between gods.
"Hey, mister."
"Sorry, but can you move? Could you?"
While he was grumbling with his arms crossed, he was approached from behind in a somewhat rough tone. When he turned his shoulder to look, two young men in military uniforms stood there. They were probably the same age as him or a little older.
"...There are other desktops available. Please use those. I'm sorry, but I'm busy with research."
As if he had no time for this, he turned his face forward, reaching out to the keyboard to redo the search. But someone's arm, extending from Moore's side, reached out and turned off the desktop's power.
Instantly, the screen went black.
"We've been asking you to move."
"Yeah~~~, sorry about that. Our princess is coming. She always uses this desktop. Please, could you move?"
Moore sighed and pressed the recently cut-off button. The computer started up again, but perhaps due to the sudden power cut, it didn't boot up immediately.
What a hassle. He sighed again.
"...Seems like you don't know which unit we're from. We're from the Central Government Army's First Division," one of them said. "We specialize in anti-terrorism operations... Bro, you're probably a soldier too, right? Don't tell me you don't know us. We're used to rough situations. So, could you please move?"
"...Hah..."
Of all people, it had to be the Central Government Army Squads. In response to the voice from behind revealing their affiliation, Moore sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time.
Although it remained a military organization under the Central Government's control, Moore was assigned to the Nikke Management Division - a unit led by Vice Commander Anderson. Well, he had distanced himself somewhat from that structure now, serving as the outpost base commander while also being appointed as the commander of the Special Operations Task Force.
The two men behind him belonged to the Central Government Army, an organization directly managed and commanded by the Central Government. Moore sarcastically referred to them as the "Parent-Guard Troops," but if they were fellow soldiers, they should be a bit more careful with their words.
"...My apologies. I am from the Nikke Management Division---"
Moore said, turning his chair around to face them. He took out his ID card from the inner pocket of his jacket to identify himself. However, one of them brushed his ID card away with his hand.
"We don't need introductions. Just move already."
"Come on now. Sorry, my friend here has a temper. He's a bit too excited. But, bro, it's your fault too, you know? Just move quietly... and... then..."
As if trying to resolve the situation peacefully, a slightly older man than Moore bent down and picked up Moore's ID card, which had fallen to the floor.
The ID card contained Moore's name, department, and his current rank as Captain, along with a photo of him in his military uniform.
The smile disappeared from the man's face. Gradually, his face turned pale as Moore slowly stood up.
"Sergeant, could you return that?"
"Y-yes!"
"Oi, what the hell's wrong with you?"
He accepted the returned ID card and checked it for any cracks before showing it to the other non-commissioned officer, who seemed ill-tempered.
"You have quite the way with superiors, huh? Does the Central Government Army teach such attitudes to its non-commissioned officers?"
"...What? Superiors...!!! My apologies!!"
"I'm Captain Shaw Moore. Ah, there's no need to apologize. Who is your superior? Is he coming right away? I want to talk."
With an emotionless expression, Moore asked the two sergeants, identified by the rank insignia on their uniform sleeves. Then he remembered something.
"So, when are you going to salute? I'm waiting for it..."
The two sergeants, now standing at attention with heels together, raised their hands in a salute. Moore responded with a casual salute, then lowered his arm and put his ID card back into his jacket pocket.
"...Fair enough. I was starting to worry they didn't teach respect for ranks at the new recruits' boot camp... Well, whatever. Let's continue the conversation with your superior. Summon him/her, right now."
Causing a scene here would be a nuisance. He jerked his chin in a gesture that clearly meant "go outside."
As they passed through the main entrance of the public records office, he stopped. Standing by the sidewalk facing the road, he lit a cigarette and urged the sergeants to contact their superior quickly.
With a pale face, he took out his mobile device. His counterpart on the other end explained the situation in a phone call rather than a text message. Even at a distance, Moore could hear a woman's furious voice coming through the device.
"Captain... She says to please wait for about five minutes."
He nodded slightly as he exhaled purple smoke. If that was the case, he had plenty of time for a smoke.
For the sergeants, it might have felt like an eternity, but for Moore, it was just enough time to savor a cigarette.
Soon, a figure with long hair tied in twin tails, colored in combination of white and ice-green, came running, swaying her tresses, from across the sidewalk.
Presuming that she was his superior, Moore flicked his cigarette into a portable ashtray.
"Captain Moore, yes!?"
The figure that had rushed over in quite a fluster was a woman. She was about a head shorter than him and seemed to be a Second Lieutenant based on her shoulder and rank insignia. She saluted and questioned him, and Moore responded with a light salute while nodding.
"That's right. I asked the sergeants to contact you. Did you hear the situation, Second Lieutenant? Quite... an impressive group of subordinates you have there."
"I deeply apologize for this! It's all due to my lack of guidance!"
"...Fair enough. I promise not to report this incident."
Seeing his own superior bowing and apologizing in person, the sergeants had no choice but to keep silent, their eyes cast down with gritted teeth.
"Both of you, go back immediately! Submit a report on this matter by the end of the day! I'll handle the discipline when I return!"
"...Y-yes...!"
"...I'm deeply sorry...!"
The sergeants saluted Moore and the Second Lieutenant. Moore responded with a casual salute and watched as the two hurriedly left.
"You've had a hard time, Second Lieutenant."
"I'm Privaty. This time, I..."
"I already received an apology earlier. There's no need for another one."
"That's not how I see it. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but... Captain Moore, are you the commander of the Counter Squad?"
When asked by Second Lieutenant Privaty, Moore nodded graciously. There was no need to hide the truth; it was indeed his current position.
Having received his affirmative nod, Privaty heightened her tension, realizing that she mustn't make any mistakes. Not only did she consider one of his subordinate as a rival, but she was also aware of the perception that Vice Commander Anderson doted on his subordinates, including Moore, a member of the Central Government Army.
It wouldn't be wise to let such an opponent go as is, especially considering the risk of her reporting to Vice Commander Anderson.
Privaty had kept her identity as Nikke hidden from her subordinates, but it seemed like contacting the members of the Triangle Unit before arriving here had been the right decision.
"...Do you have some time?"
Naturally, Moore's expression immediately filled with suspicions.
-----
Author Note: In the military, insulting a superior officer is incredibly dangerous (varies depending on each country's military law, but there's a high possibility of facing imprisonment).
In the main game, it seemed like the Central Government Army and the Nike Management Division, where the commanders belong, are separate organizations (with different chains of command), so it feels like this situation.
