WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 250: An Enemy Turned Ally

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If Amitenggrad was the capital of the military state's citizens, then Inner Circle Headquarters was the capital of its soldiers.

Built on the site of the old Kingdom's capital, Amitenggrad served as a residential city. It had housing, jobs, farmland, everything an ordinary city needed to support its population.

Headquarters, on the other hand, had many disqualifications for being called a city. Its population was heavily skewed, and it endlessly consumed resources without distributing them elsewhere. It was a city built for war and nothing else.

That was how the military state maintained such a large army for its size.

Headquarters was packed with military facilities for waging war, including steel mills, munitions factories, and officer academies. Under soldiers' supervision, laborers worked without rest while weapons and materials produced by that labor steadily piled up.

So that, when the time came, all that amassed strength could be unleashed upon another nation.

At an Inner Circle Headquarters outpost, located at the heart of the military state and therefore always safe from invasion, an officer trembled inwardly with fear.

The military state had not given them a clear answer, but officers heard plenty of rumors.

The Abyss had collapsed. The worst beings in history had been released, and they were approaching Headquarters to hold those who had imprisoned them accountable.

Their mission was to stop them from attacking Headquarters.

That was all the information they had received.

In other words, they knew nothing.

"Are you afraid, Second Lieutenant?"

A deep voice came from behind them. They had only heard it a handful of times, but it was a voice they could not forget. No, a voice they must not forget.

The rigidly disciplined second lieutenant swiftly turned and saluted.

"Loyalty!"

A general in an officer's uniform stood there with their hands behind their back.

In the military state, where strength was status, generals' ages were fairly evenly spread. Still, cultivating internal energy was difficult, and even this relatively young general was already nearing their mid-thirties.

They spoke to the newly commissioned young officer as if soothing them.

"Your shoulders are too tense. Relax. The gun that hasn't been fired is the most threatening, and the sword that hasn't been swung is the sharpest. If you tense up from the start, you'll have no strength left when you need it."

"I'll correct myself!"

"I'll ask again, Second Lieutenant. Are you afraid?"

Only then did the second lieutenant remember that they had not answered the first question. It was a serious mistake. They hurriedly replied.

"I'm only a little afraid!"

"Oh? A soldier of the military state feels fear?"

"I-I'll correct myself!"

"There's no need. I'm afraid too."

The general patted the second lieutenant's shoulder, clasped their hands behind their back, and walked ahead. While the second lieutenant stood flustered by the unexpected answer, the general stared into the darkness and muttered.

"You can't predict victory or defeat before a battle. But I have a rough idea whether I'll live or die. The enemy is powerful, while the outer defense force is inadequate. No matter how harsh their training has been, they're still an ordinary Level 3 unit. Anyone can see it... We're disposable pieces."

The second lieutenant looked deeply shaken by that cold truth.

Even if it was true, there was a difference between comrades bitterly joking among themselves and someone of such authority stating it outright. The second lieutenant repeated in a trembling voice.

"Di-disposable pieces...?"

"Yes. You're guarding this place without knowing that, but if combat begins, don't expect reinforcements. Prepare to fight to the death."

If one wanted to know how a discarded piece felt, one only had to read the second lieutenant's mind. As they hung their head in despair, the general spoke above them.

"But I'll promise you one thing. I'm your commander and the person responsible for this outpost. I will meet the same end as you here. Whether I live or die."

What was easier to move than a heart that had fallen into despair? The second lieutenant looked at the general with an emotional expression. For the first time in a while, they gave a heartfelt salute.

Expecting that reaction, the general cast their gaze outside so they would not reveal their satisfied smile.

A general was a commander.

If the military state were compared to a set of gears, they bore the crucial role of the axle. Countless gears threw themselves into action and ground against one another under their command. Since the axle had to endure their force and weight and survive until the end, the military state treated it specially.

Even so, the first person to clash with the enemy was ultimately the second lieutenant commanding troops on the front line. The axle might be important, but if the gears broke, it would only spin uselessly.

That was why the general had personally appeared at the front line to raise their morale.

'Second lieutenant or general. We're both parts in the end. The only difference is how many of us there are.'

The general recited that bitterly to themself. Still, it was only a calm assessment of their situation. They held no particular dissatisfaction with it.

A general knew many things. The fact that they were no more than a game piece was one of them. Perhaps even knowing that was a blessing. Most soldiers carried out their assigned duties without even knowing what kind of part they were.

Only someone who had climbed high could realize how insignificant they were. Only someone at the level of a general, an axle connected to the center, could understand their own position.

'Even so, it's better than the Kingdom, isn't it? Better than that terrible country, where everyone constantly watched for an opening and obsessed over dueling the moment someone weakened.'

But then the general suddenly thought of something.

The second lieutenant, who had just graduated from the officer academy and received their commission, was young. They had lived in the Kingdom for only a few years after their birth. They belonged to the "fortunate generation" that could not remember what the Kingdom had been like.

But what would the military state look like to those who could not remember the Kingdom...?

'I wouldn't know unless I could read minds.'

As the general muttered and cast their gaze outside, the searchlights swinging from side to side caught something.

Five beams of light shone into the darkness ahead. The searchlights had undoubtedly caught something moving.

The general raised a hand.

"They're coming."

The waiting soldiers tensely aimed their weapons ahead. Cannons and machine guns turned their barrels toward the darkness as well. They were soldiers of the military state. None fled in the face of fear.

Someone swallowed audibly through a dry throat. The sound had come from their own body. The general let out a hollow laugh.

'I've risen to the rank of general, yet I'm still tense before an enemy above my level. Hah. Company-grade officer or general, there's no difference.'

With a snort, the general inserted a weapon packet into their bioterminal. Thin alchemical steel immediately wrapped around their entire body. It was Iron Scale Armor, a defensive General's Armament made specially for them, someone who mainly used daggers.

The shorter a weapon's reach, the more one needed armor that could save one's life. Feeling reassured by the slightly stifling armor, they raised a dagger sharp as a fang.

The rattling sound drew closer. Perhaps because it was cloaked in darkness, its shape was still not visible. Yet judging by the area covered by the searchlights, they had certainly come quite close.

'Wait. Darkness? I was told to be careful because the searchlights couldn't see through it...'

The general sharply lifted their head as they recalled what the communications officer had told them.

With a rattling sound, what arrived before them was... an automatic carriage that looked as though it had rolled over about five times somewhere.

Its smashed body was bad enough, but compared to the interior, the outside was in relatively good condition. The inside looked as though someone had grabbed it in one hand and twisted it apart, leaving it broken and bent out of shape.

But the most important fact was this.

The automatic carriage was empty.

After finishing their inspection, the general raised a hand and shouted.

"It's a decoy! The enemy has already infiltrated under cover of night! Report this to the communications officer!"

"Yes, sir!"

Watching the second lieutenant dash toward the communications golem, the general sighed inwardly.

It was much later that they realized it had been a sigh of relief.

At least once in your life, you feel like destroying your country. People curse even the king when he's not around, but the military state had no king, so my grumbling could only be directed at the country itself.

What, I should just not curse? Sometimes life gets hard enough that you cannot endure without pouring your resentment onto someone. That's part of becoming an adult.

As a model citizen, whenever something did not go my way, I soothed my gloom by cursing the military state and wishing it would collapse.

Of course, it was a joke. An ordinary individual could not destroy a country, and anything impossible had the potential to become a joke. To me, wishing for the military state's downfall had always remained within the realm of a joke.

But now.

I was with someone who could truly destroy the military state.

An automatic carriage assembly factory near Headquarters.

"The military state's method of warfare is mobile warfare. Communications officers, automatic carriages, and the command structure. Those three things let the speed of carrying out orders keep pace with the speed at which orders are issued. Automatic carriages are essential to that."

With burning, collapsing machinery in the background, Historia walked out and held out her hand. The blazing flames lit the mana cigarette between her fingers.

Her face shadowed, she put the mana cigarette between her lips and explained calmly.

"This assembly equipment won't be easy to restore. No matter how many parts they have, they're just lumps of metal without an assembly process. Destroy the assembly line itself, and the factory is paralyzed. Unless they have someone like Director Maximilien, it'll take five engineering battalions to restore it."

Just then, an automatic carriage that was nearly complete caught her eye. She kicked it hard to the side. Its door, stamped with the print of a military boot, sprang back, and the creaking carriage skidded aside before crashing into a wall and shattering.

"Without this place, Headquarters will have trouble deploying its troops."

After clearing out even the last one, Historia walked away with her boots clicking.

Historia had once stood at the highest position in the military state, and she knew more about it than anyone. As she personally carried out destruction with her strength and knowledge, the fragile steel machinery could not withstand it. Soft alchemical steel snapped and crumpled before Historia's systematic violence. Nothing retained its original form before alchemy, physical edition.

Leaving the factory behind as it became a gigantic torch lighting the night, Historia headed for the door.

The regressor, who had helped her destroy the place, replied with a sullen expression.

"I'm telling you, this doesn't mean anything. At most, it's a nuisance. The communications officers will desperately scrape together automatic carriages from somewhere else. Unless we do something about the communications officers."

"We can't do anything about the communications officers. Even I, one of the Six Generals, don't know where they work. Perhaps no one in the military state knows except the people themselves."

Historia did not seem particularly regretful that she did not know. The regressor asked probing questions.

"You seem strangely concerned about the communications officers for someone who doesn't know anything. Don't you know something after all?"

"...I don't. That's why I'm concerned."

Historia exhaled cigarette smoke and muttered.

"They definitely exist, but I've never seen them. Most people don't understand how terrifying that is... Even captains aren't in much better circumstances."

They existed but could not be seen. That meant they were hiding somewhere or living without revealing their identities.

She did not know that they spoke only through golems from windowless rooms, but Historia had guessed something similar.

"Of course, as you said, attacking the communications headquarters would cause problems. If communications headquarters falls, the amount of information they can transmit will sharply decrease."

"Right! That's where we should hit first!"

"That's precisely why this step is necessary. They can't wage war after losing all their major facilities. The military state will surely dispatch elite forces from Headquarters... Then we can attack the empty Headquarters."

It sounded reasonable at first glance. But the regressor had been through enough hardships herself. She saw the hidden intent in Historia's proposal.

"You're setting a trap to avoid fighting, aren't you?"

From changing direction to attack the automatic carriage assembly factory to deliberately targeting only the equipment, Historia was openly avoiding combat.

"Hmph. What an impressive pacifist."

"Maybe it's contagious, with a kid who wants to stop war around."

The regressor had no response and shot her a sharp look. Historia did not avoid it.

The two glared at each other for a moment, then both sharply turned their heads away in displeasure. The regressor asked.

"Where's that guy?"

"If you mean Hui, he went to gather the laborers."

"Why?"

Historia spat out the burned-down butt of her mana cigarette and muttered.

"He's probably trying some other trick."

There was a joke in the military state. Its factories contained nothing but gears.

Naturally, factories needed workers. No matter how precise a gear was, it had no flexibility. To carry out tasks suited to every situation, it was more reasonable to use people in certain places.

Then why did they say there were only gears?

Because people worked after becoming part of the gears.

They entered narrow spaces where gears creaked and half-assembled automatic carriages flowed down conveyor belts, gaps between gears where stretching might cost them their arms and legs. Human heartbeats varied, but the factory's heartbeat was the same for everyone. Tick, tock. In the darkness where everything interlocked at the same pace, laborers had to lie down or crouch in their assigned places and fit in the parts carried by the gears on time.

Missing one earned a penalty. Since everyone worked to the same rhythm, one person's minor mistake delayed the entire operation. They had to correct their error while the overseer shouted at them and the next laborer watched with cold eyes.

Because the work was so harsh, the military state sent only criminals to the Inner Circle labor camp.

Because it worked them so harshly, the Inner Circle labor camp boasted the greatest output.

As I gathered the survivors, I read the thoughts coming from a corner and approached. People were hiding amid one section of the machinery. I made my footsteps loud as I walked over and stuck my head out above them.

"Eek!"

"Come on! Get out here! I told everyone to come out, so why are you all keeping your mouths shut?"

When I urged them, the laborers came out despite their tearful faces. They had obeyed the military state's orders for years. Not even a sprout of rebellion remained in them.

I herded the crawling people into one corner. There were around two hundred night-shift workers who had been operating the factory even tonight. I began a lengthy speech to the people huddled together in terror.

"...Well, it seems you still don't understand."

I spread both arms wide and pointed at the hangar. Two hundred automatic carriages, not yet shipped out, stood there waiting for owners.

"I'm giving every one of you an automatic carriage for free. No conditions at all! Wow, don't miss this chance to get your hands on an automatic carriage, something you'd normally have to work until death for, then be resurrected as a vampire and work about thirty more years to truly own!"

A few of the laborers looked tempted, while some suspected my intentions.

Most of them, though, sat with their ears shut tight in fear, waiting only for me to leave.

"Leave us alone..."

Most Inner Circle laborers were criminals.

I hoped people would not look at all criminals with contempt. In the military state ruled by strict regulations, criminal was simply a word for anyone who was not quite a model citizen.

People who stole things, beat their neighbors, swindled money through fraud, killed someone by accident, worked in smuggling, or held resentment toward the military state and fell into a trap while trying to join the Resistance.

They had once been criminals brave enough to defy even the law, but now they were obedient laborers, huddled together and passively awaiting judgment.

"So I'm giving you a chance to cast all of that off right now! There are automatic carriages before your eyes, and all the troops who oppressed and imprisoned you have fled! Now, what you've lost are your chains, and what you've gained is the freedom to roam this world! Start a new life with an automatic carriage!"

"...What if we're caught escaping?"

Someone muttered the worst-case scenario. Once one person started, the laborers' murmurs poured out like a breached dam.

"They'll drag us further inside. W-we'll all die."

"We might be turned into materials and disappear... N-no. Not further inside."

"This is unfair. You're the ones who attacked... It's your fault we couldn't meet the quota."

Now they poured their resentment onto us. Worry about the future made the past look better.

We were doing fine on our own, but then you suddenly showed up. If it weren't for you, tomorrow would have been just like yesterday.

These people had been brought here for their crimes. They had trembled in fear after seeing those who resisted reduced to even more terrible circumstances. They had set aside their pride and submitted to the military state.

The most exemplary success story created by the military state's criminal rehabilitation corps. The true success of its rehabilitation project.

Living gears created by trampling on human dignity.

But I could not leave them here. Historia and the regressor had destroyed only the equipment, but these people were the factory's true core components. Their presence would speed up the factory's restoration as well.

Now, to truly destroy it completely.

I cleared my throat softly, then began with the words that would persuade them.

"Everyone, did you know?"

Footnotes:

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