"──Heretic. I heard you have experience in engaging with one of them and emerging victorious, yes?"

The deep brown eyes narrowed, and a sharp gaze seemed to pierce through. For some reason, she felt a peculiar, spine-tingling sensation in response, though the reason was uncertain.

Unpleasant──no, it wasn't that. It was a strange sensation.

"...The information you've obtained seems to differ from the original. Speaking as one of the parties involved, I must say that cannot be considered a victory. I assert that much."

"──No, it is a victory."

Without averting his gaze, the Ark's commander tilted his cup, sipping the second cup of tea quietly. It seemed he enjoyed the taste, a feeling that strangely made her happy.

"Regardless of the process, the heretic named Modernia no longer exists."

"..."

Whether Dorothy agreed with the reasoning spoken by Moore was uncertain. However, Moore silently tilted the cup and then quietly placed it on the saucer.

"...Can I have a smoke?"

She nodded.

....This person smokes too. Come to think of it, an old friend, Rapunzel, mentioned it recently. The way they smoke tends to be similar.

Hmph, The golden saint was too melodramatic──she snorted inwardly right after this thought crossed her mind. Immediately after, the metallic sound of opening an oil lighter echoed.

Without delay, the wheel and flint rubbed together, sparks scattering.

"───"

A practiced motion of lighting the cigarette clenched between her teeth. The oil lighter held in the right hand, covered by the left hand to create a windbreak, toasted the tip of the cigarette.

Eventually, the flame must have caught. The lid of the oil lighter closed, and purple smoke, like a faint sigh, floated lightly into the air.

"...Sorry. It's....inevitable when consuming caffeine."

She inadvertently stared. Perhaps he felt it was a type of gaze he didn't particularly like.

Moore shrugged apologetically, letting out a self-deprecating smile.

"...I apologize. Smoking is not common here... for health reasons."

"Well, even in Ark, there are few smokers... Anyway, It might be considered impolite to urge someone in this manner, but I'll say it anyway. No need for a preamble. Let's get to the main point."

The tea gathering set up in the specially arranged garden and the tour around various locations in Eden──all of it was a preparation from her, or for this base, whichever was more appropriate. In any case, it was the groundwork for fulfilling some kind of intention.

Whether it was the preparation he imagined or not──with that aside, Dorothy adjusted her posture and gazed at Moore.

"──Allow me to be straightforward. One of the Queen's elite, steeped in malice towards humanity, is currently eyeing Eden and lurking in this vicinity."

The codename is Nihilister.

Eden has experienced five confrontations with her so far, all of which ended in a stalemate.

"──Of course, now that we have secured the Unchained capable of delivering a decisive blow to the Heretics, we have gained some advantage. However, I won't wager Eden's fate on just one bullet."

"...And?"

Impatient, he knew that about himself. However, it was his nature. It's quite regrettable that the conversation with the beautiful woman is very lacking in charm and romance, but when he sensed a suspicious direction in the main topic, a slight sense of caution colored his voice.

"...According to stories I heard from my former friend... you have repeatedly performed miracles even in hopeless situations."

"...Your former friend seems to have overly romanticized things. It's not that grandiose. It's just that I looked unsightly, got dirty, and had a stubborn refusal to admit defeat."

"──But wasn't the outcome a victory that could be called a miracle?"

"...Who knows. I don't have a knack for smart victories, and above all, I'm a clumsy person. But... well... I just couldn't give up. That's all there is to it."

She held the cigarette between her right index and middle fingers, took a puff, and exhaled the purple smoke gently.

Nicotine, tar, carbon monoxide, cadmium, arsenic, ammonia, hydrogen cyanide, dioxins──the list alone makes the purple smoke harmful to the human body.

Despite that, when the scent wafted from him tickling her nose, she felt an inexplicable sense of nostalgia.

A comforting fragrance──his scent.

"──So, would it be possible for you to share that stubbornness with us? In return, Eden will pay any price."

An ambiguous, elusive price. But it's significant enough to mention in a negotiation. Its importance must be high.

She felt a sense of approval towards his continued furrowed brow as he hesitated.

"...Price... What kind of price?"

"Yes. I heard it from Haran, but it seems you're also seeking Unchained, right?"

His cheek twitched slightly, and his brows showed a hint of disturbance at the same time. It seems she touched a nerve.

"I can give it to you. However──"

"You mentioned that exactly one Unchained is in possession of Eden. Are you easily placing your trump card on the negotiation table?"

Incomprehensible──bending down, Moore opened the lid of a portable ashtray taken from the body armor pouch, dropping the accumulated ash and returning to his original position.

"Consider it a gesture of trust. However, whether you take it back to Ark for safekeeping or use it in the process of subduing Heretics is──"

"──dependent on my actions and choices."

Tilting the cup and finishing the tea, Dorothy placed it on the saucer and nodded in agreement with a small gesture.

Purple smoke leaked out with a sigh.

What to do, and pondering over it──strangely, Dorothy understood it as if it was within her grasp.

"...Has that Commander also agreed to this deal?"

"That Commander──ah, Johan, right? No, he still doesn't know about this deal. But that's not much of a concern. I'll persuade him."

"...I see."

──Now, what should be done?

---

.

.

.

"──Commander, what are you planning to do now?"

In Eden's lobby──purple smoke wafted through the well-maintained space.

Looking up at Moore exhaling the smoke, Anis asked.

"...What do others think?──Anis."

"...Honestly, I want to refuse. But... if we refuse, there won't be any other way to obtain the Unchained, right?"

More precisely, the Unchained search would return to square one──but it wouldn't make much difference even if he tried to sugarcoat it. He nodded, affirming Anis' words.

"But even so, we can't just face Eden head-on, and Commander, you wouldn't like to obtain it that way, right?"

"...Do I appear that morally upright to you?... Well, it's not pleasant on a personal level, and I don't think I'll lose, but I have to be prepared for significant losses."

"...So, it's decided then."

It's appreciated that she decides promptly, but Moore, while not saying it outright, glanced at Anis while tossing the shortened cigarette into the portable ashtray.

Next to him, Neon nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Either way, the Heretics are enemies we'll have to face sooner or later, right?"

"...Well, whether it's sooner or later is the only question."

In times like this, women seem strong. Compared to men who worry about risks, women easily make quick decisions. It's very reliable, but──when decisions are made so quickly, he can't help but feel bewildered.

"──Huh. But lady bees, do you all understand what they're truly saying?"

Suddenly, Papillon spoke up.

Naturally, the gaze of everyone, including Moore, turned towards her. As Papillon brushed up her hair with her fingertips, she dared to articulate the situation that would become a confirmed fact in the near future.

"If we accept the proposal, we'll be on the same team as that nasty Commander with a difficult personality, you know?"

──I forgot.

──I completely forgot.

──...

Anis, Neon, and Rapi remained silent, each wearing different expressions. While the degree varied, none of them had a particularly positive expression.

"...Hmm... What should we do if another brawl starts with the master..."

"Neon, don't worry. I have no intention of losing."

──There's absolutely no element to reassure.

Anis couldn't help but let out a sigh.

---

──The first shot is the Unchained.

Taking out the magazine of the semi-automatic pistol handed to him in the lobby of the base, which adopted the striker-fired mechanism, Moore then pulled back the slide.

As expected, the chamber was naturally empty. In that case, the top of the magazine, the first shot, must be the Unchained.

Recognizing the dull-colored bullet head, he inserted the magazine back into the pistol's insertion port.

What Dorothy personally handed him was, according to her, a gesture of trust.

In a room provided within the living quarters of the base, Moore placed the handed pistol on the desk.

Sitting on a chair, he then pulled out a set of maintenance tools from his backpack and began preparing for the disassembly and cleaning of the assault rifle and pistol.

During the trials and the journey to Eden, he had fired quite a bit without maintenance.

Disassembling the assault rifle, he passed an oiled cloth attached to the end of a cleaning rod through the barrel. As expected, dirt was confirmed, just as he had imagined.

At this rate, the soot from the gas generated during firing would be considerable. It's a wonder there were no malfunctions or misfires.

Approximately one hour. That's how long it took for the maintenance and cleaning of the assault rifle and pistol.

He assembled the disassembled parts one by one, and the .45 caliber pistol returned to its original state. Pulling the slide a few times, he confirmed that there was no strange play, and the operation was smooth.

Holding the pistol with a two-handed grip, he pulled the trigger, letting the sound of a dry fire echo.

The hammer fell, and the firing pin also moved forward firmly. Malfunctions were unlikely to occur with such minor incidents.

Loading the magazine with ammunition, he exhaled a sigh of relief while leaning back on the chair's backrest.

Even with his weight of 130kg, the chair didn't creak. It was probably made for someone like Nikke.

Considering taking a break as is──

"──Shower. Should I take a dip?"

──It seems fatigue has accumulated more than he thought.

When he stood up, his body felt reluctant.

Pulled out from his backpack was his change of clothes, though it was still combat attire. Taking it out from a vinyl bag that compressed it, Moore, carrying towels, underwear, and a razor, headed towards the shower room located in a corner of the room.

Stripping off all the dirty combat attire and exposing his robust and sinewy naked body with the identification tag hanging from his neck, Moore entered the shower room. He operated the touch panel, and warm water cascaded from above.

"Ah..."

It's relieving, to say the least.

Facing the mirror provided, he used the razor he brought to cleanly shave the stubble that had grown. It was a gift from Yan, and it still felt comfortable to use.

While shaving his beard, he seemed to be removing dead skin as well. Thanks to that, by the time he finished shaving, his skin felt somewhat smoother and less dry, though it might just be a feeling, as he ultimately didn't apply any skincare products.

Casually, he directed his left hand towards his right eye. Grabbing the mechanized prosthetic eye with his fingertips, as soon as it was pulled out from the eye socket, Moore's field of vision narrowed slightly.

Rinsing the prosthetic eye removed from the eye socket with warm water and wiping away the dirt, he then operated the touch panel to stop the warm water pouring from above.

Shaking his wrist to get rid of excess water, he gently inserted the prosthetic eye back into the eye socket.

"Mmm..."

Connected to the terminals linked to the optic nerve, his vision returned to normal.

Turning his gaze up, down, left, and right to confirm there were no abnormalities, Moore wiped his entire body with a towel, put on underwear and the pants of his combat attire, and left the shower room.

While roughly drying his hair, which had turned close to gray, he grabbed a soft pack, shook it lightly, and picked up a cigarette that popped out. As he was about to light it with an oil lighter, the room's summoning buzzer rang.

"──Come in."

Given Anis' earlier admonitions, he had learned something. When inviting someone, he didn't do it in the nude.

Since he had just finished bathing, he still hadn't put on a shirt, but it shouldn't be a problem at this level.

"──Excuse me."

The door opened with a sound that felt somewhat deflated, and immediately after, a clear voice echoed. It was Rapi.

"...Ah, Rapi. ...And, if I remember correctly, you are..."

"I-I'm Isabel..."

The beautifully melancholic woman, presumably the staff officer of the Inhalt unit, Isabel, followed Rapi into the room.

Feeling a strange combination, Moore inwardly tilted his head.

"...Is something wrong?"

"Well, you see..."

Rapi was used to it, for better or worse. She never felt embarrassed seeing his robust upper body. However, a sigh that held a faint trace of exasperation seemed about to leak out, enduring it, she shifted her gaze to Isabel who followed behind.

"...Major Moore, um... I apologize for bothering you during your break..."

"No, don't worry about it. I'm sorry for this appearance."

Isabel, her cheeks blushing, averted her face as much as possible to avoid looking at his skin.

His muscular body, conveying a masculine and wild aura, was poisonous to the eyes. Or perhaps it was eye candy.

(Tl: Leewwwdd~~~~)

Thickly developed chest muscles, a neck where trapezius muscles were also prominent. His arms were thick, and veins stood out on the surface of his skin.

Attempting to look at the floor, she lowered her face. Still, even then, the belt on his waist holding the combat pants──and above it, the abdominal muscles deeply engraved were visible here and there, making her uncomfortable.

"Uh, well... Commander Johan is calling Lieutenant Moore. ...I apologize for the inconvenience..."

──If you have something to discuss, it's better to come out and say it.

He considered saying such things, but even if he spoke them aloud, it wouldn't change anything. He let out a sigh along with purple smoke and nodded in agreement.

Having thrown the partially smoked cigarette into a portable ashtray, Moore put on a black short-sleeved shirt over his combat uniform.

In the chest pocket of the jacket, he stored a soft pack, oil lighter, and the portable ashtray, while his pants pocket held a mobile device.

Finally, he strapped a leg holster to his right leg, holstered his gun, and retied the boot laces.

With preparations complete and Isabel ready to guide, he attempted to follow, but...

"Rapi."

Calling the name of the trusted subordinate, he handed her a pistol loaded with Unchained.

"Hold onto this for me."

"...Understood."

"Come this way. Only one guard is allowed, as I heard."

A familiar, clear high-pitched voice. He nodded to her, feeling relief unconditionally, as the pistol was entrusted to her.

According to Isabel, having a guard was allowed.

Moore, checking Rapi's face, which was about a head lower, received a small nod from her.

Feeling sorry for her, but it seemed the flow was to entrust her with the guard duty as well.

Exiting the room, Isabel began to walk down the corridor.

It would be about ten minutes until the one to follow.

"Here they come."

In the courtyard, surrounded by flower beds with colorful flowers, a gazebo was built. Long benches were arranged facing each other, and a table was set in the center.

Seated on the bench was the commander of Eden in a tight-collared military uniform.

"Did I keep you waiting?"

Stepping into the gazebo, Moore asked his first words. Commander Johan prepared a glass, cutting the seal of an unlabeled bottle.

A cold ice-blue gaze was directed at him.

"Take a seat."

Responding to the expressive gaze, Moore shrugged and sat down across from him.

Johan brought the bottle closer to the glass. The liquid in the transparent bottle had a faint reddish tint.

Once poured into the glass, about half was filled, and an indifferent hand pushed the glass toward Moore.

"As you wished, it's ready."

"...Wish?"

Grasping the pushed glass for the time being, he brought his nose closer. Sniffing the aroma, a refreshing fruity scent could be sensed.

"Fruit wine?"

"Any problem with that?"

"...I prefer a smokier brand."

Nevertheless, it was the provided alcohol. Leaving it untouched would be impolite.

Moore tilted the grasped glass and swiftly drank the half-filled content in one gulp.

"Well, it's not as bad as I thought. Not my taste, though."

This man is quite talkative—Johan, facing him, inwardly sighed.

Is it that stifling to talk without sarcasm or provocation?

"For example?"

"I often drink WOLF KILLER."

"...Is that still being sold?"

In Johan's memory, the brand was known for its dryness and distinctive aroma, with mixed opinions about its taste. The fact that it was still being sold surprised him.

"...So, why did you invite me for a drink? We weren't that close, if I recall."

"...You said it didn't you..."

"What? ....Oh, I remember. Did you actually take it seriously and prepare it?"

Excessively dutiful.

—Have some alcohol and play chess.

Certainly, there was a memory of saying that, but he never thought it would actually be prepared.

Johan snorted and, holding the bottle, poured fruit wine into his dry glass.

Then, Johan turned around and threw a glance at Isabel, who was waiting.

Aware of it, she nodded, and both placed a glass chessboard on the table between them.

"...Is this also your wish?"

"You really prepare well. It's almost impressive."

"You'll play as white."

Efficiently, Isabel began arranging the pieces. On his side were the promised white pieces, and on Johan's side were the black ones.

"Is it alright?"

"As the elder, I'll yield."

"Hmph..."

Now it was Moore's turn to snort.

In that case, he picked up a white pawn and moved it forward.

Advances and retreats—this was what Rapi and Isabel saw.

Both armies were inflicting considerable casualties, steadily achieving results.

Moore had 2 black pawns, 1 knight, and 1 bishop.

Turning to Johan's side, there were 2 white pawns, 1 bishop, and 1 rook.

"Oh?"

"...Hmm..."

With each move, both exhaled audibly.

Pieces were captured, attacks were defended—engaging in continuous warfare.

In the midst of it, Moore, who had been directing the battlefield, stopped his movements.

—He noticed.

—If continued like this, in 7 moves...

A check was imminent.

And then, with the knight held in reserve, the king would be taken, resulting in defeat.

"────"

How to avoid imminent defeat?

Moving the rook? No, then the bishop would remain unrestricted.

Trying to move the knight would be futile, as the bishop would capture it.

The only way out was—

"...Queen."

There are six types of chess pieces, but among them, the queen is the strongest and, aside from the king, the most valuable.

Sacrificing it could not only endure but also create a winning opportunity.

His fingertips picked up the queen.

—As expected, huh. Well, fine.

It's regrettable that the plan didn't succeed, but it's not like there's no other strategy.

Johan waits for the moment when the white queen moves.

However—there is absolutely no sign of it moving.

"────"

His ice-blue eyes narrow.

Eventually—his fingertips leave the queen and move toward the rook.

It advances to the front of the king.

"—What's the meaning of this?"

"...I won't sacrifice a woman just to win a game."

Tilting the glass and swallowing the fruit wine, Moore, with a cold gaze, looked at Johan.

And then—the fierce attack began.

Unable to withstand it, the crumbling white army fled from the battlefield—such a sight even Rapi and Isabel saw as a hallucination.

Soon, the black forces approached the king—when victory became certain, Johan unexpectedly stood up.

"—I understand well enough. About you as a person."

Flipping the hem of his coat, the tall figure left the gazebo with broad strides.

Without watching him leave, Moore bit his cigarette, lit it with an oil lighter, and exhaled purple smoke.

"—Aah... I understand well enough too. About you as a person."