by Carlo Zen
Copyright
The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 7
Carlo Zen
Translation by Emily Balistrieri
Cover art by Shinobu Shinotsuki
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
YOJO SENKI Vol. 7 Ut Sementem Feceris, ita Metes
©Carlo Zen 2016
First published in Japan in 2016 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo.
English translation © 2020 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Zen, Carlo, author. | Shinotsuki, Shinobu, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily, translator. | Steinbach, Kevin, translator.
Title: Saga of Tanya the evil / Carlo Zen ; illustration by Shinobu Shinotsuki ; translation by Emily Balistrieri, Kevin Steinbach
Other titles: Yōjo Senki. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen ON, 2017–
Identifiers: LCCN 2017044721 | ISBN 9780316512442 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512466 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512480 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560627 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560696 (v. 5 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560719 (v. 6 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560740 (v. 7 : pbk.)
Classification: LCC PL878.E6 Y6513 2017 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017044721
ISBNs: 978-0-316-56074-0 (paperback)
978-0-316-56075-7 (ebook)
E3-20200516-JV-NF-ORI
Contents
Cover
Insert
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter I: Disarray
Chapter II: Restoration
Chapter III: Effort and Ingenuity
Chapter IV: Operation Iron Hammer
Chapter V: Turning Point
Chapter VI: Excessive Triumph
Appendixes: Mapped Outline of History
Afterword
Yen Newsletter
[chapter] I Disarray
APRIL 20, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, UNCERTAIN COORDINATES ON THE EASTERN FRONT
From the perspective of someone looking down on the world below—a bird’s-eye view—taking in the scenery from a great height reveals how endlessly monochromatic it is. And more geometric than mediocre avant-garde art to boot.
But a single glance through some binoculars makes it clear that the only thing to be found on the ground is a chaotic, intractable swamp. Shell holes, mud, the carcasses of collapsed warhorses, mud, injured soldiers, and mud as far as the eye can see.
Looking from the sky, even the unwilling are forced to learn what a menace the mud poses.
A listlessness still grips the earth and the coming of spring is far indeed. Lacking any definition, the land truly seems like a mirage. There’s no obvious sign of the road that should be directly below, according to the map. No one would be able to read this location accurately.
“Hmph,” murmurs the commander Tanya, who shakes her head slightly.
What happened to the mission that was supposed to be nothing more than flying along the road?
“It’s a simple order to advance along the main highway,” they said! “You’re simply going up to the forward-most line,” they said.
So why the hell are we out here guesstimating our location using celestial navigation?
Tanya sighs. Her current position can’t be clarified any further than “somewhere in the vicinity of the front line.”
Her group doesn’t consist of any old hands who have a knack for pathfinding, nor does it include guides or local troops who can instruct them.
At the same time, they’re the stalwarts of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion who pulled off a search and destroy with the air fleet over the notoriously stormy Northern Sea. She can trust them to have a rough idea of their current location wherever they go. There’s no reason they should have too much trouble figuring out where things are.
Nevertheless, Tanya is astonished.
The friendly position that should be nearby is nowhere to be seen. The highway that is clearly marked on the map has sunken into the mud, and enemy soldiers are milling around where they don’t belong!
It certainly wasn’t without reason that she nearly agreed to her subordinate’s earlier suggestion of turning around after they first encountered enemies on their path.
Ultimately, after recalling their orders, she rejected the proposal; according to reports from the home country, their comrades were still holding the line out here.
How much easier it would have been to abandon them! In the end, she dismissed that attractive option and their unit continued to advance out of a sense of duty.
And this is what we get. Tanya can’t hide her disappointment.
“What the hell is going on here?” She glares at the enemy soldiers infesting the ground below.
This isn’t even close to what the intel claimed. The area we’re flying over should be the location of the friendly picket line!
And yet! A glance below reveals a revoltingly dense enemy anti-air position.
There was zero mention of this on what was supposed to be the latest map available.
“Fucking hell. Are our troops amateurs?”
The contrast is infuriating.
“The enemy’s field engineers seem to be pros. They’ve done good, competent work.”
“…This must have been set up after our line crumbled. The enemy seems very committed to their counterattack.”
“You’re not wrong, Lieutenant Serebryakov.”
All we can do in response is toss our plan in the trash.
I’m loath to even take the time to lament it.
“…The General Staff must not have anticipated this,” Tanya adds with a tongue click under her breath before she sighs.
Her annoyance mounts rapidly at the unacceptable situation they’ve found themselves in. That’s only natural when most of the intelligence provided during the pre-mission briefing turns out to be completely useless.
She had no issue with being abruptly transferred to the eastern front.
That’s simply following orders.
If the General Staff says “Jump,” the only proper response is “How high?” And being told to reach these coordinates was no problem, either. I’v
e accepted that we’re supposed to serve as the General Staff’s eyes.
“…I know. I know all that.”
But the words that follow are lamentations, complaints, and even curses.
“What is the Eastern Army doing?”
Refraining from outright calling them idiots is already a test of self-control.
As a frontline aerial magic officer who has been through officer training at the war college, Tanya is aware of what the General Staff is after. The generals, especially high-ranking ones, want information. The education of high-ranking commanders imparts a gut-wrenching fear of making even the slightest mistake, so they impulsively seek out ever fresher nuggets of intelligence.
It’s also wise for the commanders in the rear to be curious about the current situation out in the field. To take an interest in the front and dispatch teams to conduct surveys is model behavior for the military. The only complaint I have is that despite everything, our leaders have failed to get even a basic handle on what is happening out here.
This is what most people would call a “critical error.”
“Under the circumstances, I’m not even sure if we can act on our own authority. How are we supposed to know what the government wants to achieve here? It feels a little unfair to not get even one hint. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to do much but laugh.”
Even if the Eastern Army Group really has collapsed, what happened to enacting plan B, which was supposed to deal with that exact situation? In merely approaching the designated coordinates, the elite Salamander Kampfgruppe has already been forced to fight three encounter battles with enemy aerial mage units.
If friendly troops are still around…even if they gave their all to prevent anyone from suspecting them of making an unauthorized retreat, it clearly didn’t accomplish much.
At that point, Tanya thinks of something that makes everything feel all the more pointless. “All pain, no gain” has a horrible effect on the mental health of anyone who is anti-Communist.
“What am I going to do for dinner now?” The futile lament dribbled out quietly.
You can resupply once you reach the objective. That was the happy-go-lucky order we received. To hell with last-minute deployments. Unless a unit that has access to the army supply line welcomes us, we won’t be getting a hot meal tonight.
Since everyone knew it would be a long-distance mission, the troops probably snuck a few chocolate bars into their packs, but there’s a limit to how long those will last us.
“Fate sure is a nasty bastard. How wonderful. Really impressive stuff here. I wanna hit the General Staff with some quality 37-mil tungsten shells.”
But Tanya doesn’t even have time to curse the heavens. Directly below is an enemy strongpoint. Only someone with a death wish can afford to get distracted while bad-mouthing people in a spot like this.
Time is never distributed evenly. When you’re bored, you have more time than you know what to do with, but in moments like this, every second is precious.
Tanya clicks her tongue regarding another mistake. Since the actual combat mission was to take place after arrival, the whole unit is carrying more gear than usual.
Despite keeping the load to a minimum, a full complement of gear is still a serious burden. Since flying over enemy territory was unexpected, dumping anything they don’t need for combat is an option.
But Tanya gives up and resigns herself to accepting the dead weight. Only an amateur would consider throwing away their gear for even a second.
The eastern front is the Empire’s most thinly stretched position. Logistics are in rough shape, and supplies are liable to be cut off at any time, which is why the lines are in such confusion—we’re one slip away from a real shit landslide.
If we dump our packs now, there’s no telling when we’ll get resupplied. This is nothing like dropping your stuff on an exercise field back home to move easier in hand-to-hand combat.
“Battalion commander to all units. I don’t think any of you is a quick shooter, but just to make sure, there aren’t any idiots who dropped their packs, right?”
Ha-ha-ha. The laughter filling the radio channel is a good sign. It’s proof that the troops are prepared to respond to whatever comes our way. A workplace overflowing with cheerful laughter has a very low accident rate.
“Enemy mages climbing!”
By the time my adjutant gives the warning, the battalion is fanned out and ready for combat. It’s the prompt response you’d expect from a team of vets. Pride fills Tanya when she sees that no one needed orders to take their positions. That said, anyone who pins all their hopes on the morale of the workplace is a failure as a manager.
If we’re entering combat fatigued due to our lengthy advance, then the probability of an accident occurring must be taken into account. Working to anticipate mistakes and prevent them is part of what Tanya gets paid to do.
“…We’re outnumbered, huh?” she murmurs and immediately reevaluates the power disparity. The 203rd’s ability to bring firepower to bear when intercepting is clearly inferior.
The numerical disadvantage is obvious. Even a quick estimate shows we’re up against more than three times our numbers.
I don’t like it. This reminds me too much of the time we took heavy losses over the Northern Sea.
When I weigh my love for rationality and freedom against the need for emergency evacuation, my thirst for safety wins out.
“I guess we have no choice… What a shit show.”
“Colonel?”
“01 to all units. I’m gonna hit ’em with something big. Watch out.” Tanya warns her troops, refrains from clicking her tongue, and readies herself.
What justifies it all is the unalterable truth of what reality demands.
It has to be done, I tell myself as I spool up the orb I rarely use, the Elinium Type 95.
An instant later, Tanya feels disgustingly refreshed. It’s as if the fog in her brain has dissipated; a sense of clarity and omnipotence fills every fiber of her being.
“O Lord, declare balance and order good. May peace and the promised kingdom await!”
“Haaah…” Even her sigh seems to overflow with energy, and her fear is both unbearably awful and exhilarating at the same time.
“Stubborn reactionaries! I’ll sweep you from the skies!”
Cries are coming over the wireless—actually, maybe it’s just the agitated shouts of the enemies who’ve gotten within earshot? It’s terrifying how my consciousness isn’t quite steady.
“Scream for me, Commies!” Tanya raises her voice, trying to keep a handle on her sense of self with a yell. “You Commie scum go against the laws of nature! I’m going to teach you a lesson! You need to understand that reality won’t be warped by ideology!”
“Blather on all you want! No one’s gonna listen to the enemy of our motherland and the party! Get ready to taste the iron hammer of the people, you witch!”
It seems like Tanya’s comments were rather provocative. A number of what appear to be enemy officers are polite enough to yell back at her in the language of the Empire. Come on, if they’re mages and speak the language to boot, they should just defect from the Federation already.
In general, I’m not a fan of Communists. And nationalists also tend to have some values that I find hard to understand.
Having an attachment to your home is fine, but why value the imaginary entity of the fatherland over your own life?
Tanya stops there.
Objectively speaking, these Communist nationalists—the Federation Army—are the devil, and while they may be a sort of cult, as long as they are the devil, they are the enemy of gods or similar beings.
Gods don’t actually exist, but the stance of not accepting that sort of being is important.
It’s not fair to ignore the points where we can come to a mutual understanding just because we have certain issues that we’ll never agree on.
I was taught to always look for the good in others. That’s what I try my bes
t to do. That’s why I’ll acknowledge them.
Even Communists can be praised when it comes to bullying and atheism. If I don’t assess that fairly, my perspective will be undeniably biased. To put it in extreme terms, I would be extraordinarily lacking in modern intellectual integrity.
Anyone who wishes to be impartial needs to observe intellectual honesty.
With her mind full of such sickeningly pure and bright ideals, Tanya chuckles at the tidbit of irony she’s discovered. Perhaps it should be said that she noticed it thanks to her dutiful commitment to intellectualism that she practiced every single day. Having discovered this opportunity to overcome the gap between herself and others in the midst of battle, Tanya even feels her heart warming up.
“Yes! Good! Very good! This deserves a round of cheers!”
It’s hard to call it enjoyable, but it is exhilarating.
That’s why, with great reverence and while tolerating the psychological contamination of the corrupting Type 95, I find it deeply gratifying to fulfill my duty as efficiently as possible.
Cast numerous overlapping explosion formulas to achieve area suppression.
In theory, that’s the optimal solution.
Even for aerial mages, it’s nigh impossible to dodge when the entire area around them is blowing up. Talented enemies should never be underestimated. Especially not when they’re atheists deserving of some praise. We need to have good manners and make sure to kill them carefully.
“Warning! I’m gonna nail them with explosive saturation fire! Battalion, pull out of this airspace on the double!”
While warning her troops once again, she sets the manifestation area of her spell.
Finalizing her aim, she makes sure to take into account the flight path of the enemy mages still climbing to intercept. It’s out of respect for her opponents that she’s readying such a dense array of formulas.
Capable enemies are the worst enemies. This is the moment where Tanya should take out as many of them as she can.
Yes, it’s time to use the Elinium Type 95 or whatever other cursed object of power the situation calls for. A job is a job. Sometimes duty demands wholesale slaughter. A sad thing for sure, but this is war.
“O, you who guide us. O, you who know serenity.”