Semi-Coercive Imperialist

Whooooo...

Wind swept over the ridge, carrying the tangled stench of smoke, gunpowder, blood, and mana.

Boom!

Another cannon blast thundered beyond the horizon.

"......"

The general standing before the command tent gazed somberly at the sky.

Would reinforcements come?

Probably not.

Because no one believed they were the bait, everyone died willingly.

That was how battlefields had always been controlled.

So perhaps the promise of reinforcements was a lie. The soldiers here might be meant to die buying time, while another legion claimed victory somewhere else on the map.

"General. If they're really planning to attack the south instead of Gandela..."

At the staff officer's cautious words, the general answered quietly.

"......It would be the worst possible outcome."

Unless the southern elite forces turned back, this ridge would eventually fall. If it did, the south would be isolated, and the southern elite would wither away as well.

Yet the general could not be sure whether that judgment was correct.

After all, the Royalist military leadership now consisted of newly appointed young officers, following the purge of informants and corrupt soldiers.

The purge had cleaned up the army, but it had also made it younger.

Youth was never a virtue on a battlefield.

Whooooo!

Then, a different kind of wind suddenly blew.

The fierce current shook the tent canvas and the general's coattails. Air plunged from above as though sweeping away the smoke.

The general instinctively looked up.

"......?"

A full moon.

Against the pale moon illuminating the night sky, one slender streak appeared.

No, two.

Three.

Four...

Unknown, sleek shapes of darkness descended at an angle. The instant one of them reached the ground.

Boom!

It exploded like a falling meteor.

The Royalist field camp froze as one.

The communications officer holding a receiver, the staff officer pinning markers into a map, everyone craned their necks toward the same place.

The lights and gunfire across the ridge were going out, sector by sector.

Wherever the darkness landed, the battlefield began to heal.

"......Reinforcements."

Someone's hoarse murmur broke the uneasy silence.

......

A battle wasn't fought by soldiers alone. Behind the infantry crawling up the slopes stood the systems that kept them alive and moving.

The artillery positions pounding the Royalists beneath the ridge. The field communications stations connecting the front lines to headquarters. Supplies crossing all night over pontoon bridges from the far bank, and distribution posts carrying them into the mouths of the front line.

The heart, nerves, and blood vessels of the legion.

The knights descended upon those vital points.

Cliff landed in the middle of the valley where twenty-four howitzers had been spewing fire, then carved his way through the artillery line alone.

Rumble!

Gun barrels crumpled under explosions of mana, while artillerymen burst apart in the very positions they had taken to load their weapons.

Julian caused no commotion. He simply slipped beneath the hill where bundles of mana stone circuits converged, and the lights went out in the exchange station where operators frantically plugged in lines.

Communications officers across the front, receivers pressed to their ears, all heard the same sounds.

Snip. The sound of scissors closing.

Click. The signal cutting out.

Boom!

Royce and Dare Tan landed back to back at Point 3, one of several locations along the river receiving supplies.

"Fire! Fire!"

The enemy soldiers desperately pulled their triggers, but the Spherical Aura Guard stopped the bullets.

Royce charged first. When Royce scattered their field of fire, Dare Tan cut through the gaps. When Dare Tan drove forward, Royce sealed their escape routes.

Fwoooosh!

Supply ships that had reached the riverbank burned before unloading their cargo, and rows of wagons waiting to be unloaded overturned.

Two battalions responsible for supplies were wiped out in less than thirty minutes.

Whoooosh.

Hanna Usar was still flying through the night sky.

Her talent was Awl, the ability to condense mana into an extremely sharp point. Power broad enough to cut down a hundred people could be honed to the thickness of a needle and concentrated into a single point.

Armor, barriers, spells, tank plating, even a superhuman's Aura Body.

Everything defended as a surface was pierced equally before her point.

Assigned to Point 7, Hanna circled overhead like a hawk, scanning the area.

"......Found you."

Hanna murmured quietly. Her helmet visor magnified the ground below.

A giant of a man. He stood well over two meters tall, three or four heads taller than the soldiers around him. Six steel lances were strapped across his back, and the accompanying soldiers followed behind with two each.

Swish.

Hanna folded her wings.

At once, she plunged like a falcon diving from high above toward its prey.

She flew in like lightning, just as the giant drew a lance back over his shoulder.

Slaaash!

She sliced through the top of his head.

His superhuman Aura Body, thick muscles, and bones split beneath her blade.

Still holding his lance aloft, the giant slowly collapsed like a falling tower.

Thud.

Hanna landed and didn't stop. Enemies remained.

Before they could even draw their guns, dozens of threadlike mana lines fanned out from the tip of her sword.

Slice.

Invisible black threads brushed through the night air, and the soldiers' heads floated upward.

Before long, Point 7 had been erased from the map.

The Republican faction's artillery fell silent first. Then its communications, supplies, and reinforcements were cut off, and finally its superhumans.

The struggle over the ridge continued, of course, but it was already a body without blood flowing through it.

Nothing more than the twitching of a corpse...

Whooo...

The knights of the main force had already reached the ground, but Maximilian remained in the sky.

It was, in effect, proof of Maximilian's skill.

Transport aircraft could only approach so far. Such large objects were easy targets in the air, so how deeply they could be deployed depended entirely on each knight's ability to descend.

Fwooo...

Maximilian crossed the Iber River, passing over the bridgehead that had begun to burn below.

As Maximilian glided beneath the moonlight, the river wind brushed the mana wings and gave a low cry.

Then Maximilian looked toward it.

On the other side of the river stood the Republican faction's field camp. Beside it was a prisoner detention facility surrounded by barbed wire and crude wooden barricades.

The final knight's final target.

* * *

The moment an unidentified force descended onto the battlefield, its collapse became painfully clear.

"The communications are down! They've been cut off!"

Communications officers at the switchboard shouted while clutching dead receivers.

A mud-covered messenger came running in, spitting out the names of fallen fronts. Before the report was even finished, another messenger screamed of more destruction.

The blasts of cannon fire fell silent one by one.

The night sky beyond the river turned an ugly red.

At some point, one soldier looked up at the distant sky and muttered.

"......A knight."

A knight.

A knight of the Empire.

That unremarkable phrase spread from mouth to mouth faster than any wildfire.

The entire camp, beyond the front lines, stirred over those words.

"Prime Minister Frank! Get in!"

Frank and his staff hurried into a retreat vehicle. The full situation remained unclear, but reports of defeat came from every place enemy forces had infiltrated.

Now, they had to protect the head of the Republic.

"Please go! We'll hold this place!"

Ben, deputy commander of the Izenheim Volunteer Army, volunteered to remain behind with the superhumans under Ben's command.

"......"

Frank only looked at them without a word.

His mind was filled with equal parts shock and panic.

They were buying time to delay pursuit. Someone had to remain behind, and he had no time to stop those who chose to stay.

"......All right."

Elton nodded with determination in Frank's place.

"For the glory of our people."

"For our people."

Frank blankly watched them exchange those words.

The warriors of a persecuted people were once again staying behind to fight for someone else's homeland.

"Prime Minister. Please decide how the prisoners are to be handled."

At Ben's request, Frank stopped.

"......"

Prisoners were bargaining chips, but once released, they became the enemy's strength.

Most of the prisoners were important Royalist figures. Nobles, officials, officers, and thousands of soldiers besides.

If they all returned alive to the enemy's arms...

He knew. Yet he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Are you hesitating?"

Elton asked quietly.

There was no rebuke or urgency in Elton's calm voice. It was as though Elton merely wished to calmly confirm Frank's decision.

Frank closed his eyes and made his decision.

"......Deal with them."

Thud!

The vehicle door closing was the period at the end of that sentence.

"Yes. I will carry it out."

Ben moved at once. Entrusted with full authority by Frank, Ben ordered the soldiers to execute the prisoners.

"Drag them out!"

"Move! Move!"

The remaining soldiers dragged the prisoners from the detention facility.

"Bring them all out!"

A few who resisted were shot on the spot, while those unable to walk crawled outside.

"Drag them out! There's no time!"

Most of the prisoners were lined up in a wide clearing by the river.

Their hands were tied behind their backs. With no wall before them, they faced only darkness and the rippling river. Breaths came in ragged bursts, mixed with prayers.

"Ready!"

Ben shouted.

A line of rifles formed across from them, and the clack of bolts filled the night air.

"Aim!"

Then.

"Fi..."

Before the command could finish, moonlight flashed through the air.

An instant.

A single point.

It quickly blossomed into a great radiance, like waves rolling in from the horizon.

A silent silver-white wave swallowed the entire firing squad.

Their rifles fell ownerless, and Ben's head flew into the air.

The superhuman who had meant to buy time never sensed the end of that time.

Thud.

The knight, steeped in moonlight, landed on the battlefield.

At the center of countless gazes, in the middle of the battlefield, the knight spread both arms wide and threw a pure white longsword.

Craaaack!

The blade flew forward.

It spun violently, drawing a silver arc. The air split with a low cry. Like a scythe passing through a wheat field, it swept through the enemies' heads.

Aaargh! Guaaah!

The formation broke apart. Screams scattered through the air.

Then the knight flicked a finger once.

The longsword circling in the air abruptly stopped, leveled itself like a spear, and shot straight ahead.

Its target was another superhuman hiding silently among the soldiers.

"......Urk!"

Thunk!

The longsword pierced the enemy's chest.

The enemy clutched it with both hands and tried to hold on, but the knight had already kicked off the ground.

In an instant, the knight arrived, seized the hilt with both hands, and raised it upward.

Crackkk!

The superhuman's body split apart.

Blood and flesh sprayed everywhere.

Before long, the crimson spray formed a river of blood, yet the knight lowered the longsword without a drop staining the knight.

"......"

A cleanliness that allowed not even a speck of dust.

The knight looked no different from before coming here. At the end of it all, silence settled over the field.

It was strange.

At least, it was to the prisoners watching.

Moonlight still clung to the knight. There was no sound in the knight's movements. Even when gliding from the sky, even when the longsword tore through enemies, the knight remained silent to the end.

The noise came only from outside.

Step.

The knight took one step.

As the prisoners flinched, the knight bent down and picked up a dead enemy soldier's rifle.

Step.

The knight crossed the ground strewn with gunpowder and human remains without hurrying.

Step.

The knight approached the front of the gathered prisoners and tore apart the ropes binding one prisoner's wrists.

Gulp.

The prisoner swallowed.

The helmet revealed nothing. Its cold surface showed no color at all.

Then the knight placed a hand on it.

The knight removed the helmet.

"Ah..."

For a moment, countless prisoners stopped breathing.

No grand words were needed.

He was simply noble in appearance.

Beneath gleaming blond hair was a clean face, impossible to believe belonged to someone who had just slaughtered an army. Standing with the battlefield flames behind him, he looked as though he had stepped out of a sacred painting.

...Beautiful.

On a field where slaughter had barely ended, the prisoners found themselves thinking that without meaning to.

"Listen."

In the language of Zerpha, with diction befitting royalty, the knight placed the rifle in the prisoner's hands.

"Hold your gun."

Gulp.

The prisoner swallowed again and nodded as though entranced.

Then the prisoner turned and untied the person beside them. Those freed hands untied the next pair, and those hands untied another.

Freed hands picked up rifles scattered across the dirt.

Light returned, one by one, to the eyes of prisoners who had looked like dead fish.

"Fight to live."

The hunger in their stomachs after days without food, the terror they had felt moments before execution, none of it even crossed their minds now.

Drunk on the fact that they had survived, they cheered for the knight of the Empire.

......

"Attack!"

The Zerpha general had already stepped into the middle of the battlefield.

The enemy's morale had been shattered by what descended from the sky, and every soldier crossed the ridge in a full assault.

"The knight is our ally!"

Those cries spread across the slope.

They retook trenches lost for four days in four hours, stabbing fleeing enemies with bayonets.

The battle continued through the night.

Pockets of Republican resistance flared briefly, then died out one by one once they realized their retreat route had been cut off.

Those who tried to escape by swimming were swallowed by the current. The rest threw down their guns as dawn approached.

They fell to their knees.

"......Walk faster."

"Move it!"

"Stop making noise before I shoot you!"

At daybreak, a long line of people with their hands raised stretched down the ridge to the riverbank.

Crackle, crackle.

Sunlight fell upon the burning wreckage.

The Royalist faction captured too many prisoners to count, while the Republican legion suffered losses bordering on annihilation. A river crossing had never been an operation with a way back.

"......General. We've won."

The general reviewed the reports that had arrived through the night.

At the center of every eyewitness account was the same presence, a knight.

Reinforcements descending from the sky.

What had seemed to be a lie was now recorded in official documents as a military achievement.

"It's hard to believe even as I read it."

The detailed battle report.

A formal document the staff had written through the night.

The course of battle by time period. Friendly and enemy losses. Counts of prisoners and captured supplies. And the entry, [Intervention by Allied Superhuman Forces], which military historians would revisit again and again in the future.

Bang!

The general stamped the document announcing victory.

The general folded it carefully, sealed it with wax, and handed it directly to the messenger officer.

"Deliver the news of victory to His Highness the Crown Prince."

"Yes!"

The messenger saluted and withdrew.

......

The next day, at a grand estate in Hailand, Arthur Winston received news like lightning from a clear sky.

"......A knight?"

Arthur asked.

"Yes! A knight appeared in Zerpha!"

News of the Zerpha Republican Army's wave-like offensive had reached the continent, and everyone had been on edge. Yet the Empire had made no visible military move.

But something had happened during that unseen night.

"Knights... descended?"

"Yes! Witness accounts are spreading that knights rained down from the sky and carved up the entire battlefield! This telegram just came from a war correspondent in Zerpha!"

The result was the destruction of the Republican faction's main legion.

The southern front was also falling into Royalist hands.

At this rate, the Republican faction's defeat was only a matter of time.

"Knights..."

Arthur pressed his fingers to his brow.

It was a development he had never imagined.

That they would deploy knights, and that knights could overturn the situation in an instant.

"The Royalist camps are saying this is all a diplomatic victory. Crown Prince Alonso, the prince known as the king of diplomacy!"

Crown Prince Alonso had been given such a nickname.

He had secured the Empire's support through extraordinary negotiations and concluded a reasonable treaty. This time, he had even moved the knights.

But what exactly had the Empire gained?

"......How many knights were there?"

"Pardon? Ah, well... quite a lot, wouldn't you say?"

If there had only been around fifteen, the rumors couldn't have spread so widely. They certainly couldn't have reached Hailand in a single night.

What was more, the Republican forces that had been brimming with confidence were annihilated in one night.

That meant they had poured in more firepower than necessary. Not the amount needed to win, but their maximum output.

The reason was probably...

"It was a live combat test."

They had devised and trained a new way to use knights, and at last, a testing ground to measure their power had appeared.

Someone else's civil war was a stage that couldn't have been cheaper.

"Oh!"

The reporter clapped and continued.

"Do you think Crown Prince Alonso knew that when he negotiated? He saw first that the knights needed a battlefield, then received victory in exchange!"

"......If so, he's quite good at balancing the scales."

Arthur clenched his pipe between his teeth.

"That weak, bland fool must be a patriot after all. Seeing how he brings out that kind of strength only when his country is on the verge of ruin."

"Wow, you're right. There's a reason his approval rating is high in Zerpha."

Perhaps the continent had underestimated the man named Alonso for far too long.

"Not yet. Zerpha has only chosen to sit inside a tiger's jaws."

In truth, Zerpha was not the problem.

Why did the Empire need to test its forces, manuals, and doctrine?

Because the real test lay ahead.

And the real test they were preparing for...

"We need to inform the assembly about this knight business."

Arthur rose, leaning on his cane.

Footnotes:

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