by Carlo Zen
Seeing that response, Hosman immediately recognized that their opponent was extremely accomplished and excelled at quick decision making; the lone mage had already climbed to the impractical altitude of eight thousand feet. And that was why Hosman couldn’t help but consider the enemy unlucky: Soldiers never lived long without luck, no matter how skilled they were.
“Golf 01, roger. But that mage sure was bold, climbing up to eight thousand…”
Nobody could last long up there, but it was their only avenue of escape in the face of a whole company. Hosman was also perfectly aware of that fact. To shake off pursuit in a confrontation like this, their opponent’s only options were to flee where hunters would be hesitant to follow or to fly erratically low to the ground and trust everything to fate.
Units advancing over long distances were usually loath to expend the energy necessary to climb that high, so the sentinel had assumed they would avoid that option. Not bad.
“Only little kids can get away with crying, ‘It’s too high! I can’t reach!’ Let’s get to work, men!”
They couldn’t very well let an enemy mage escape to fight another day. Considering their mission, there was no way they were backing down.
“Everybody got that? Okay, Platoon Mike will eliminate the sentinel. Everyone else is conducting recon-in-force with me. We’re gonna bust right through.”
With the Empire’s warning line spread so thin, the Republic had a good chance of victory. That was the guiding light for everyone participating in the operation, regardless of rank. They couldn’t waste time on a provisional defensive line when the main enemy forces could return.
That was why the reconnaissance mage units were crucial to disrupt the enemy lines. They would start with the usual recon-in-force, which entailed initiating contact with the enemy to gather intelligence, but they were then expected to also create openings to break through. Knowing that Republic victory rested on their shoulders, they were determined not to get routed.
“Wilco, we’ll catch up with him right quick.”
After the platoon leader’s acknowledgment, Platoon Mike climbed rapidly. Naturally, operating at eight thousand feet would be exhausting even for the Republic’s elites. Standard combat altitude was four thousand, though if they really pushed it, they could tolerate six thousand.
In this sense, their enemy was doubly clever for choosing eight thousand. First, the chase would exhaust Platoon Mike, reducing the overall strength of the recon-in-force mission to two platoons. Also, the sentinel was making significant contributions to the wider battle by distracting the enemy and dragging things out. We’re taking on a respectable opponent.
“Engage. Fox 01, Fox 01!”
The silence of First Lieutenant Hosman’s thoughts was suddenly shattered by radio contact from one of his men. As company commander, he followed the calls for long-range magic formula fire. At the same time, the enemy soldier in front of them performed a new maneuver after realizing that escape was improbable. The bandit abruptly circled around to rush Platoon Mike as if descending upon some prey. Apparently the lone mage was taking the offensive.
“Fox 02, Fox 02! I can’t believe it! He dodged that?!”
The confused voice of his subordinate on the radio contained both surprise at the enemy strike, as well as the shock of his shot missing. As Hosman speculated about their enemy’s intentions, the distance between Platoon Mike and the mage shrank considerably.
Hosman was in a somewhat-removed position, but when he confirmed the platoon had cautiously begun combat maneuvers, he was certain they were on top of it. Was the enemy trying to squeeze more time out of them by engaging at close quarters? As a tactic that could be employed immediately, it wasn’t a bad choice. But unit Mike was a platoon, not a company. The coordination of a platoon was too tight to easily disrupt, and the difference in their combat potential made it hopeless for one mage to take them on alone. Hosman respected the courage and resolve, but it was a reckless maneuver.
“Enemy incoming! Disperse! Disperse!”
That very moment, Platoon Mike spread out to shift to a formation more suitable to close combat. Their objective was eliminating the opposition’s eye in the sky to support follow-up Republican attacks. Their plucky opponent couldn’t have known it, but the reconnaissance mage company’s mission had been all but accomplished the moment they made visual contact. Take out the eyes. If they could do that, even if they were held up for a bit, they would be fine.
“Three rounds of interlocking fire! Get your formulas ready! Nail ’em! Fox 03! Fox 03!”
The coordination and skill of Hosman’s subordinates were textbook ideal as they deliberately kept some distance in order to intercept the charge and maintain cross fire. The enemy mage had entered the line of formula bullet fire. Even if he had superior speed, Hosman’s men were ready and waiting. It wouldn’t be hard to nail him.
But what happened next was something no one could have predicted. It was definitely a direct hit. Regulated fire of military-grade explosive formulas, which could easily strip off a mage’s protective film and even chip their solid defensive shell, had hit the target dead-on.
“Fox 03! Fox 03! Shit! The bastard’s so tough!”
The moment the formulas in the multiple bullets activated, the flames should have swallowed up the enemy mage for sure. But even so…
That thing continued its advance without missing a beat, casually closing the distance as if it were flying through an empty sky. By intuition, not logic, they sensed something bad was happening. However, as civilization had advanced, humans as a species were no longer in touch with their animal instincts.
“Mike 3! Check six! Check six! Ahh, damn it!”
In a blink of an eye, the bandit had rushed Hosman’s subordinate. Absurdly but undeniably, a magic blade sprouted from the man’s chest. Then, in a single, unenthusiastic motion, as civil as someone cutting up their dinner, the blade sliced clean through him.
“Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan!”
“What is that thing?! What?! It’s—! Agh, Fox 04!”
A tangle of radio calls. What was that? What the hell was that? Hosman watched the unfolding scene through his binoculars. He couldn’t believe his eyes. In terms of air combat maneuvers (ACM), Platoon Mike was the best in his company. They were being given the runaround? “It can’t be…,” he muttered in spite of himself. Can a mage really move…that fast?
“Mike 1? Mike 1?”
By the time Hosman realized, Platoon Mike was half-paralyzed. One and three were down, and the engine of four’s computation orb seemed done for. He had stalled and was falling. Two was barely hanging in there covering for four and wouldn’t last long, either.
“Shit, Bravo, Golf, turn back! Turn back! We have to cover Mike!”
There was no way First Lieutenant Hosman could stand idly by while his men were in trouble. He abruptly ordered the platoons in his command to race back at full combat speed to support Platoon Mike.
But inside, he wondered, How? No matter how much individual abilities differed between mages, could there ever be a fight this lopsided? He had heard that some imperial mages were armed with specially tuned computation orbs and had naturally high mana output.
But even then, the most they could take was a two-man team. Supposedly even those Named monsters mostly specialized in hit-and-run tactics. For someone to face a platoon head-on—and capably—instead of picking off the mages one by one was inconceivable.
“Enemy in range!”
As the company commander, though, Hosman didn’t have time to lose himself in those thoughts. The enemy was already within shooting distance. The question on his mind had nothing to do with the fight, so he pushed it aside and called out sharpshooting formulas at long range in flight formations. It was a little far, but with a hail of bullets from two platoons, they couldn’t miss.
Their opponent must have understood that as well and began taking textbook evasive action, which was perfectly fine. There was only one pr
oblem. Just how was that mage flitting around as if gravity didn’t exist?
“Fox 01! Fox 01!”
But the most unbelievable thing—no, the utter nightmare—was how resistant the enemy’s protective film was. Although the recon company had prioritized accuracy due to the long-distance nature of their shots, they had combined, albeit imperfectly, explosion formulas with the guidance formulas. Even if their target dodged all the shells, there was no one who could completely avoid the fireball blotting out the sky.
But the enemy didn’t seem to be in any pain and returned fire unfazed. Hosman had to wonder if it was a joke.
“I’m going in! Cover me!”
Golf 02 probably felt like they weren’t getting anywhere, so he charged with magic sword in hand. Certainly no matter how tough someone was, they’d have to take some damage from a close-quarters slash with a magic sword. If the platoons couldn’t finish the enemy off at range, concentrating their fire was also a reasonable strategy.
“We got ’em! Fox 02, Fox 02!”
They agreed and advanced, ready for a midrange brawl where it would be difficult to take evasive action. At the same time, they executed the Named Killer, an internationally famous tradition of the Republic’s and the epitome of fire discipline. The support fire was six sharpshooting formulas with an explosion formula as a smoke screen, and they all made a direct hit—or rather, it should have.
“He’s still fine?! Of all the ridiculous—!”
“Golf 02! Break! Break!”
The enemy mage was still up and running even after the combination of restraining and enveloping midrange fire. Those sharpshooting formulas can pierce subpar defensive shells easily. How can anyone still fly after that? Though he could hardly take it all in at once, he didn’t have time to ponder the question.
As for Golf 02, who had tried to charge in close, he just barely managed to escape the tiger’s jaws thanks to Mike 02’s cover fire. Then the enemy mage shot through two protective films like they were nothing and took the men out of the fight.
“It’s a trap! You piece of shit!”
Hosman had been had. He didn’t like it, but he knew it was the truth.
Evading by climbing to eight thousand feet was a trick to divide our forces. Common sense says combat maneuvers are impossible at eight thousand…but that’s been proven false. We walked right into this. My men are being taken out one after the other, and it’s all my fault. Chewing his lower lip, he was having trouble swallowing his fury at the deaths of his subordinates, but he understood the situation they were in. They had encountered a monster—an unknown Named.
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! We’ve encountered a new type of enemy!”
“Shit! And they said this would be easy! Golf 01 to CP, this is an emergency! Tally one unknown Named! Requesting reinforcements and permission to RTB!”
IMPERIAL ARMY TECHNOLOGY RESEARCH LAB BOARD OF REVIEW
When building a new weapon, it wasn’t enough to simply implement the latest technology. Production cost, maintainability, and mission capable rate were all matters of life and death. Even so, many elements were difficult to evaluate without using the weapon in actual combat.
To the General Staff, the fighting with the François Republic that had broken out in the west was a horrible disaster, but to the Type 95 development team, it meant a highly anticipated chance to try the orb out in the field. The engineers awaited the results en masse, and the Type 95 proved itself—it blew past their expectations.
“How did the battle go?”
“Very well. Six downed, three defeated, three missing. According to the observer squad, it’s incredibly doubtful that the three who went missing will make it back to their base.”
They had assumed it would be impossible. After all, the experiment had only succeeded thanks to a miracle. But the test run had yielded surprising results. Type 95’s achievements were worthy of all the praise the elated technology personnel were heaping on it. They could hardly stop grinning.
Of course, the skill of the user made a big difference. Second Lieutenant Degurechaff certainly had the skills of a Silver Wings Assault Badge recipient, but that alone shouldn’t have been enough to overcome such a disadvantage and get such impressive results.
“She basically took out an entire company by herself.”
She didn’t defeat all the mages, but she had still repulsed the whole unit. She was overwhelmingly superior in a fundamental sense, nothing more. The theoretical values had indicated possibilities, but she had made them real.
“Yes, to think it’s come so far…”
From a commonsense perspective, the results could only be described as incredible. The orb was nothing short of revolutionary. This technological innovation opened the door to a whole new universe of combat.
“Right. Judging from its record at Elinium Arms, I was expecting it to have major issues.”
The officers who had questioned continuing development were now commenting in wonder, almost self-deprecating. They had been so worried about this thing, but when they saw what it was really like, the results were so good that all previous failures could be forgiven. If it could perform this well, everything was fine. They could even lower the cost via mass production.
“Oh, it has issues all right.”
The tech department grandly threw a bucket of cold water on them and their admiration. They understood Operations’s feelings all too well. They were excited by the revolutionary technology, so they were hoping for a revolutionary improvement in quality. But unfortunately, it was all a fantasy.
They had to wake everyone up from the dream.
“What do you mean? It achieved far more than we’d expect from a solo flier.”
“Right. This thing could change mage combat as we know it.”
Certainly, Type 95 had achieved stellar results. That was a fact. In terms of performance, it was in such a league of its own that you could call it a next-next generation orb. That was made possible by quad-core synchronization. The quad-core engine’s demonstration of mana fixation in actual combat and the possibilities inherent in that were enough to make Operations drool.
After all, the technology to stabilize mana and store it like bullets was of immense tactical value. The ability to freely use stored mana effectively removed the barrier of mana capacity.
“My understanding is that all the worries and criticism raised in the past have been proven false in combat,” a General Staff officer muttered.
Really, the achievements spoke for themselves. Quad-core synchronization made quadruple output a reality, increasing combat potential to a whole new level. After seeing the technology was usable, Operations had to have it.
“We only have one successful case. The project has been a huge failure, unless we say the goal was simply to verify the technology.”
But engineers didn’t deploy Type 95 in order to convince the army to adopt it. They just wanted to see what kinds of issues would come up in actual field use, so when war broke out in the west, they sent it to the front. They had focused on the tech and never even considered mass-producing it.
“What happened in the other cases?”
The most successful case was also the only successful case. If anyone asked about the prospect of mass production, they would have to raise doubts as to whether they could reproduce their success. Users of mage technology were already a chosen few, but even then, an orb with only one successful operator couldn’t have much chance for mass production as a weapon.
“In one of the worst tests, there was an explosion in the lab, and we lost a whole platoon.”
The things were constantly blowing up—one defective circuit would cause them to self-destruct. If someone could manage to coat the orb with mana, it could take a beating, according to the actual combat trials. However, the success rate of that critical step was hopelessly low.
The worst accident had occurred during a synchronization failure; four times the usual mana had detonated and blown away
the platoon doing the testing—a group of elites including instructors from Central and members of the Advanced Technology Inspection Corps.
“…But it can shoot bursts of mana, right? That’s too appealing to give up on.”
“The only one who can use it is Lieutenant Degurechaff. The best anyone else has managed is not getting blown up.”
As developers and engineers, they were ethically bound to push back. Even the engineers who had requested to continue research had only cared about the technological revolution. After their impulsively inquisitive minds had been inspired, Chief Engineer von Schugel and his team had spent their days focused only on testing the limits of what was possible. But when they took a moment to think calmly, they were the ones who best understood the orb’s dangers and difficulties.
Of course they understood—they built the thing.
“But you have one successful case, right? Can’t you just replicate it?”
“…I told you we almost lost Elinium Arms! Even the successful case of Lieutenant Degurechaff was a total fluke—though I shouldn’t be saying that as an engineer. We still don’t even really know what happened.”
Analysis of observed values made it clear that mana fixation via quad-core synchronization was more dangerous than anyone had imagined. The experiment was a miraculous success, but they had measured enough mana to know that if the test had failed, the entire Elinium Arms Factory would have been blown to bits. It was obvious to anyone with a modicum sense that they couldn’t afford to repeatedly fail an experiment that would cause destruction on that scale.
“A fluke?”
“Just when a runaway mana reaction was about to melt the cores, the interference waves harmonized, and moments away from liquefaction, the cores synchronized.”
For the engineers, it was a frustrating result. They didn’t know how, but they had managed to succeed. By some fantastic stroke of luck, the uncontrollable mana had just happened to straighten itself out; that was as far as they could grasp. Even if they wanted to verify the results further, all they could tell was that it was a coincidence.