Author:

I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused by my previous message. I appreciate receiving your feedback, and it brings me joy when it is straightforward to understand. However, if your feedback is unclear, difficult to interpret, or the meaning is challenging to decipher, I regret to inform you that I may have to block your user. Additionally, I apologize for any rudeness, but I may refrain from responding.

I would be grateful if you could provide feedback in a gentle and easy-to-understand manner, considering my limited proficiency in Japanese. Thank you for your understanding.

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A lamp mounted right next to the airborne door lights up in red. The moment it is acknowledged, a tall man wearing a cumbersome set of equipment effortlessly rises from the built-in bench, scanning the interior of the aircraft.

"Prepare for descent!"

The roar of the engines and the rush of wind blowing through the opened door make the interior instantly noisy.

"Are the Air Force guys kidding? Taking a nap, huh!"

"Those tin cans are still surviving!"

The surroundings of the first transport aircraft ─ forming a group with similar aircraft, but the formation has already been disbanded. More accurately, it had to be disbanded due to the intense anti-aircraft fire they were receiving.

"No. 3 hit!"

"Ah, damn it!"

A direct hit from an enemy aircraft flying alongside them.

Watching the flaming wreckage plummet to the ground with a trail of crimson flames and black smoke, the man raises his voice.

"Hook on!"

As dozens of soldiers stand up, they skillfully attach the hooks to the wires hanging in the aircraft connected to the parachute deployment lines ─ the static line deployment code.

Once all the hooks are secured, loud shouts and gestures are used to convey instructions.

"Equipment check!"

Soldiers inspect their main parachute, reserve parachute, chest strap, groin strap, wearing belt, and weapons ─ every piece of equipment they have. This is the final check before the descent. Without delay and without mercy, they complete the inspection, visually and physically checking each other.

"Comrades, brothers! We rely on you more than any large army!"

" "Oohrah!" "

"Tell those miserable tin cans crawling on the ground! We are bloodless, tearless monster werewolves!"

"Oohrah!"

"Remember this day in your empty brains! Today is the best day to die, and today marks the day humanity's counterattack begins!"

"Oohrah!"

"Preparations are complete! Now, let's go!"

Standing in front of the airborne door, the man raises his voice against the engine roar and the sound of wind flowing into the aircraft.

Suddenly, his head is blown off.

Anti-aircraft fire, fragments of exploding shells in the air, must have pierced through the aircraft.

A bang, and his head exploded. White brain matter and scalp, along with short hair, splattered inside the aircraft. The man, now lifeless, is thrown out of the aircraft.

"I'll take temporary command! Move forward to this position!"

A third-class sergeant ─ a tall and large non-commissioned officer wearing a combat uniform with that rank insignia sewn on ─ raises his voice. Taking the lead in the column, he stands in front of the airborne door, using gestures to move the soldiers a few steps forward, glaring at the glowing red lamp.

Now.

Not yet.

Almost.

─ The lamp changes from red to green with a thud.

"Descend!"

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"Why do you know?"

The wary, narrowed eyes of the young man sitting opposite him questioningly.

Caution seems to be on high alert. In the airship's designated room for her ─ Dorothy's quarters, the young man is on guard against the room's occupant.

"... Please don't be so cautious. You do know about my background, don't you?"

As the one leading the accompanying unit and indirectly forming the Goddess unit, their origins should have been conveyed by the commanding officer.

Implied by this, the young man ─ neatly folding the long sleeves of his jacket, rolling them up to reveal heavily muscled sun-tanned arms ─ frowned as if he had just crushed several bitter insects.

"... I see. I had forgotten. You were from a good family."

"... Please refrain from insinuating I'm just a sheltered princess."

"Ah, my apologies. ─ Were you related to it?"

"It wasn't like that. I just remember hearing about it when I was still human."

It's a bit late to describe her as a "young lady" considering her appearance and behavior. However, the young man often recalls Dorothy avoiding him whenever she had free time, from Redhood. After a sincere apology, he picked up his cup, took a sip of the offered tea without making a sound, and observed Dorothy.

"...Even if you knew about the Kratos Project, I don't understand why you would be interested. Of course, if your hobby is to explore unpleasant urban legends, that's a different story."

Perhaps communication can only be achieved through irony. Although they have a certain level of familiarity, Dorothy realizes that receiving such ironic comments in such a natural flow has been a common occurrence in her relationships so far. Observing the young man who took out a soft pack of cigarettes from his chest pocket after emitting a small sigh, Dorothy issued a second sigh.

She operated the remote control she pulled in and activated the room's air conditioning.

"─ Ah, sorry about that."

Without showing any signs of unease, Dorothy only shrugged her shoulders in response to the offered apology and thanks.

With a distinctive metal sound, the lid of the well-used oil lighter opened. Soon, the wheel turned, and a flame ignited.

"─ I'm just a second lieutenant who rose through the ranks from a non-commissioned officer, so unfortunately, I have no education... but this century must have been different from the ideal future that humanity envisioned in the last century."

The tip of the cigarette, held in his mouth, glowed as it was lit. Again, the metal sound echoed, and the oil lighter returned to the young man's chest pocket ─ adorned with a small embroidery depicting an anchor entwined with a rope, a eagle, and a globe.

"─ Whether it's in your memory or perhaps you know it from knowledge... frequent terrorist incidents, conflicts and wars breaking out everywhere in response. And climate change, rising sea levels due to global warming... The helm of history has been turned in the opposite direction of the ideal world envisioned by humanity in the last century. Oh, no... technological and scientific advancements have occurred... they even built a space elevator."

Seemingly willing to answer the question, he took another drag of his cigarette, but it was just a smoke break.

"... What does that have to do with the project?"

"LIC."

"... Wasn't it Low Intensity Conflict, referring to low-scale conflicts?"

Dorothy spoke the words that came to mind, and the young man in front of her nodded slightly, affirming as he tapped the accumulated ash into the portable ashtray he took out.

"The original meaning refers to a concept or definition of a mild conflict state between war and peace, but it's also a term used for urban warfare and guerrilla warfare. In this case, it's the latter."

"...The latter?"

"...The military is a money-eating monster. It endlessly devours the national treasury. It's an organization that can only engage in consumption activities. Especially during wartime."

Despite being a part of that military, he speaks with quite a detached perspective.

"Resources, manpower, and various other things are consumed without limits, causing the nation to become lean. That's when someone somewhere thought, rather than deploying hundreds of soldiers for an operation, wouldn't it be cost-effective to have individual soldiers with sufficient combat capabilities?"

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"...Huh?"

"...I don't really know the details of the motives and triggers. Honestly, I'm not very interested. Well, it's not a story that matters much... Alleviating the pain, stress, and fatigue on the battlefield. Enhancing physical strength, recovery, cognitive abilities, perception, and mental strength through implants such as prosthetics and mechanical devices—initially, they attempted that, but the results weren't as significant as expected."

That raises ethical concerns in terms of life sciences—Nikké, Dorothy, ponders as if it were someone else's problem, and the young man chuckles lightly.

That's quite a disrespectful attitude. It's not unreasonable for Dorothy's amethyst eyes to narrow uncomfortably.

"Sorry. I just thought a beautiful person contemplating would make a good picture."

"I don't need flattery."

"Unfortunately, I'm not good with flattery."

He shrugs, and with practiced hands, the young man taps the accumulated ash into the portable ashtray. Dorothy, however, is suddenly struck by a simple question.

How old is the young man in front of her, anyway?

"...I apologize for the sudden question. I may have forgotten, but how old are you?"

"How old do I look?... Just kidding."

Is he trying to tease her again? If Dorothy's beautiful expression turns almost pouting, he straightforwardly answers his age.

...Twenty years old.

"...You seem older."

"Am I aging that quickly?... Well, let's take it positively as having an imposing presence."

The cigarette he holds shortens. Enjoying the last puff in his mouth and slightly pursing his lips, he casually throws the cigarette into the portable ashtray.

"In that case... Have you been in the military for only a few years?"

The enemies—Rapture, beings that should be unbeatable by humanity—are derogatorily referred to as 'Tin Cans,' and their unconventional method of engaging in hand-to-hand combat is possible.

Reckless, and even suicidal volunteers use such tactics. However, remarkable achievements have been made, as well-known with Liliweith and others, including Dorothy.

The young man claims to be 20 years old. If so, they—those who make up the forces organized by humanity—are probably of the same age group. To achieve such tactics and the physical strength to make it possible at their age is genuinely impressive.

However, facing Dorothy, the young man nonchalantly shakes his head left and right, denying the expectation.

"...It's different?"

"Twenty years in the military."

"...Huh?"

Jokes should be spaced out a bit, Dorothy wishes, frowning slightly between her eyebrows with a displeased look. However, he doesn't break his expression, doesn't tease, and calmly states the truth.

"That's the truth. I have a 20-year military career. Of course, there are no official records left."

If that's true, it's an absurd story—from infancy to the present, a life spent in the military would be unbelievable.

He seems to be trying to obscure the truth again. After all, where would there be military forces that implement military training for infants? 

"Please wait. What do you mean by 'initially tried'?"

She inquires about the true meaning of the words the young man uttered just a few minutes ago.

'Initially tried'—implying that another method was attempted later.

The one being asked, holding a second cigarette in his mouth, lighting the fire with an oil lighter, and producing purple smoke, lets out a small sigh.

"I'll just say that the result is in front of you."

"...That is..."

"...I'll tell you when we become a little closer. I'm not sure if it's okay to disclose classified information, but at this point, there's probably no need to hide it."

He always dodges the question like this, Dorothy thinks with a slight pout and turns her face slightly away.

Her youthful appearance and attitude feel refreshing. While letting out purple smoke, he clears his throat, emits a small laughter, and eventually, after containing it, releases a sigh.

"Well, if I were to tell you a little... let's say we were cursed."

"...Cursed?"

In this day and age, it's surprising to use unscientific expressions. Dorothy's amethyst eyes, which had been turned away, are now directed towards him. Acknowledging this, he nods ever so slightly.

"...Nature's law, or punishment for defying the gods... I didn't choose to be born in this form willingly."

Her eyes could not forget the sound of his low voice mixed with unmistakable resignation.