Semi-Coercive Imperialist

Operation 「Spear of Heaven」. Dozens of Knight Awakenings aimed at a vital point deep within enemy lines.

Crunch!

Having completed her mission, Hanna Usar chewed and swallowed five or six energy bars in quick succession.

She squeezed the rest of the ultra-high-calorie liquid meal from the pouch on her thigh into her mouth.

She drained every drop from her filtered canteen, filled it with river water, shook it a few times, then drank again.

A knight's calorie consumption was this steep.

Mana was, in the end, a fire that used the body as its furnace. The greater the power of mana, the more that blaze devoured its wearer's flesh and blood as fuel.

During one night of fierce battle, a knight burned as many calories as an ordinary infantryman did in a week.

This was practically a knight's only weakness, and the reason armor that blocked enemy attacks had carefully sewn pockets to guard against hunger.

"......"

Having replenished her calories, Hanna took a slow, deep breath and reviewed the principles of a knight once more.

1. Complete the mission.

Carry out the assigned role no matter what. If the situation became so dire that completion was impossible, use the issued signal beacon and wait for rescue by one's comrades.

Sentinels never abandon Sentinels.

2. Do not remove the helmet until completely clear of the battlefield.

Officially, it was to protect each knight's identity and ensure their safety. The helmet's defensive power surpassed that of most tanks, and if their faces became known, their families could be targeted while information and weaknesses leaked.

Yet there was a deeper, truer reason: blocking guilt.

To a knight wearing a helmet, the battlefield was only information.

Outside noise vanished, enemy screams became nothing more than decibel readings, and the pleas and begging of defeated soldiers were reduced to mere audio signals.

Every element that might cause useless guilt remained beyond the visor's filter.

That allowed a knight to focus on battle alone.

3. Survive and return from the battlefield.

The design of a Knight Awakening was a one-way ticket. If the front won, that was only natural, and even if it did not, there was no problem.

A knight was a survival expert trained to eat, hide, and return alive alone in enemy territory, someone with the mental strength to endure even the harshest circumstances.

Therefore, after completing the mission, a knight moved to the agreed location and returned, regardless of the battle's outcome......

By the time she finished thinking through that, Hanna Usar had reached the rendezvous point.

"Loyalty."

Amid the soldiers' salutes, she boarded the helicopter.

Thudududum!

When she opened her eyes again, she was at the Sentinel base camp in the Imperial mountains.

Pfft.

She stepped onto the ground and removed her helmet.

Her comrades had already arrived.

"Knight Hanna!"

"Hey. Why are you so late?"

"You're practically the last one."

Mia. Royce. Dare Tan. And the others. Hanna stepped toward the comrades who had returned safely.

"That just means I was handling an important mission."

With this operation, the knights had proven that they were the Empire's greatest force.

Now everyone on the continent would know it.

* * *

──【Zerpha Daily】──

[Great Victory at Gandela! Main Rebel Force Annihilated Overnight]

[The Throne Stands Firm. Full Army Advance Begins]

......The rebel forces that crossed the Iber River and targeted the heart of the homeland were annihilated overnight, and the remnants surrendered with the river at their backs.

Tens of thousands of prisoners have been captured, while the seized military supplies are still being counted. Our forces have begun their advance along the southern front, building upon this momentum......

To the ringleaders of the rebellion, I declare: The Kingdom's patience ends today. Those who surrender will face the judgment of the law, while those who resist will face the bayonets of the Royal Army.

To the loyal citizens, I declare: The throne stands firm, and victory belongs to the Kingdom. Every household is to fly the national flag, and a thanksgiving service for victory will be held at noon today in the Royal Capital Cathedral.

Long live His Majesty the King! Long live the Zerpa Kingdom!

───

Alonso, the Crown Prince, announced the victory in the name of the royal family. Yet he denied the deployment of Imperial knights.

The entire continent likely knew it was a lie, but such a statement was necessary for foreign audiences.

"Knight Maximilian. I truly dislike that man named Pablo."

The royal palace reception room was bright with celebration. Once the official announcement was over, the Crown Prince greeted me warmly and immediately brought up that name.

"A man who calls himself a Zerpha citizen painted pictures worthy of a rebel and displayed them for all to see. Thanks to him, people in Prozen and the western nations who know nothing of the truth call you a butcher."

He seemed to be worried about me.

"It's all right."

I answered calmly.

"The meaning of art has always belonged to those who interpret it. A brush is not guilty."

I hoped Pablo would continue to hold his brush. I no longer cared how badly my image became tainted.

The moment I gave up on being understood and went further, rejecting it entirely, I stopped caring what stained my hands. At last, I had gained the solitude to accept any sacrifice.

"......Do you truly believe that?"

"Yes. If anything, I want to keep seeing his paintings."

"Well...... if that is your wish."

Pablo himself would likely remain in Prozen for a while, continuing to paint works that would remain in history.

"That aside, regarding this battlefield."

I changed the subject.

"As you have heard, the testimonies of Republican faction officers are consistent."

A superhuman unit had been mixed in with the Republican faction spearhead. It was information obtained through prisoner interrogations.

"The Izenheim Volunteer Army."

I could turn their synergy against them.

I held the position, status, authority, and strength to turn their habit of shaking the continent into a narrative that added to their crimes.

"Consider it, Your Highness. If Zerpha split in two and bled, who would gain the most from it?"

I placed all the blame on Izenheim.

"When a country's foundations collapse, they will always seep through the cracks. Those without roots can only find a place to take root when another's land falls apart."

Alonso's face hardened.

"You must now ask whose hand lit the fuse beneath this civil war."

It was sophistry, but Alonso already had the look of someone who would believe me even if I claimed salt could turn to ice.

"......Izenheim."

Alonso gave the answer.

It probably was not only because of what happened today. His closest aides, the people I had planted around him, had likely sung the song of Izenheim every day.

"Yes, that is correct. The Republican faction citizens may have been incited by them."

"But there is no proper way to identify Izenheim."

The Kingdom offices of Zerpha already had a family register system modeled after the Empire's. Naturally, that too was an order I had established.

The areas once controlled by the Republican faction were different. Documents had been burned or forged, and the chaos of the past had erased identities altogether.

"It's all right."

I smiled.

"Our side will send agents. Izenheim are profoundly misguided subhumans, so there are reliable ways to identify them."

Yaken.

A knight's best friend, one that would ease my solitude.

......

──【Zerpha Daily】──

[Complete Recovery of the South! The Kingdom Flag Flies Once More Over the Southern Sea]

[Port Cities Recovered One After Another. Rebels Flee Into the Mountains]

......The glorious Royal Army has swept away the remaining rebel forces throughout the southern front and completely recovered southern Zerpha.

The port cities have returned to the Kingdom's embrace one after another.

Having lost their main force in the Great Battle of Gandela, the rebels have even lost their chain of command and are throwing down their weapons to flee into the mountains......

────

Southern Zerpha fell to the Royalist faction.

Their civil war had effectively tilted in their favor. There was no need to press any further. According to reports from the agents planted within the Republican faction, internal conflict and infighting were rampant over whether to keep fighting or negotiate.

Before long, they would collapse.

In any case, I received that news in Prozen.

The reason I had crossed over to Prozen again was for the World Expo's closing ceremony.

"This Expo was attended by a record thirty-six nations and drew the highest number of visitors in history. It will remain in the history of human civilization......"

In front of the Imperial Pavilion, I watched the Expo Committee Chairman read out the event's achievements.

There was nothing special about it. It was a closing speech full of self-praise, the same sort one would hear in any country.

"The Prozen World Expo closes today."

The final lights announcing the closing bloomed and glittered across the night sky.

"Knight Maximilian."

A committee official approached the Imperial Pavilion and handed me a certificate and medal.

"The Imperial Pavilion has received the Grand Prix by unanimous decision of the judges. Congratulations."

It meant the grand prize, though it was likely only ceremonial. The Eastern Union had probably received the Grand Prix as well.

"Thank you."

I accepted it with a smile.

"Oh, Knight! One moment! May I take a photograph?"

It was Lenny, the documentary director. Her film was said to be nearly complete.

"Go ahead."

I stood straight and looked into the camera lens. The committee official awkwardly took a place beside me.

"Please put the medal around your neck!"

I hung the gold medal around my neck.

"Great~"

Before winter came and snow began to fall, theaters that would screen the documentary would be completed in every region of the Empire.

Even in the most obscure backwater, a cinema would be built in the nearest village.

On screening days, government vehicles would travel through the villages and carry people there.

They would sit in warm theaters heated by stoves, receive freshly baked bread, cheese, and cocoa, and watch the film.

Johann Georg's propaganda would seep into them naturally and completely, rather than through force.

"All right, here we go!"

Click.

The flash went off.

"Knight Maximilian!"

I recognized the voice at once. Tatiana Volkov. Fortunately, it seemed she had not been dragged back to her homeland.

I tilted my head as I looked at her.

"It would be dangerous to meet me alone in a place like this."

"What are you talking about?"

She looked as though she truly had no idea.

Then again, she was simply a pure artist. Politics, thought, and ideology had no place in her world.

Tatiana raised her own certificate.

"Well, I received the Grand Prix too."

For some reason, she appeared embarrassed by her award. Had Tatiana already admitted defeat?

There was no need for that. I was only a fraud who had stolen memories of the future and the thoughts of another artist.

"Be proud. Your sculpture will remain in history as well."

"......Hm."

Tatiana gave a quiet laugh.

"Knight Maximilian. You have opened a new horizon for me."

She continued.

"That which cannot be seen can become material as much as that which can, and even experiences and phenomena can become works of art...... As I watched the light cut through the darkness, I thought perhaps I had confined beauty too much within a frame."

Speaking purely of her work and thinking of her art, she looked deeply at me with eyes that seemed somehow regretful.

"Maximilian. You could have become an artist. A very great one."

At that sincere praise, memories of the past suddenly came to me.

The days I walked through museums holding Mother's hand. The streets where I smelled paint through the windows of studios. Those afternoons when time stood still whenever I stood before a painting.

"......I appreciate that."

Still, this and that were no different.

To protect the continent that held my memories with Mother, I had only taken up a different kind of brush.

"The world will not allow me to be one."

Smiling, I held out my hand to her. She smiled as well and took it.

Through our joined hands, I wished for one thing.

May your art continue without end.

May the coming war, and Lobrus's Izenheim Supreme Leader, never break you, humanity's brush, who hold the purest beauty in the East.

* * *

Soft crunch. Soft crunch.

Southern Zerpha. Winter had come, and snowflakes were beginning to pile up.

Inside a small guard post, four Royalist faction soldiers huddled together, each studying their family register.

"Look at this. Right here, it says we're quasi-applicable bloodline, doesn't it?"

Four family registers lay side by side on a table like a tree stump.

They were Zerpha nationals, but each bore a clear stamp that read [quasi-applicable bloodline - III].

"Oh...... So does that mean we're Aran too?"

"Something like that. With this family register, we can cross over to the Empire too. It's pretty much a passport. But quasi-applicable bloodlines have ranks too."

"How?"

The senior soldier held a cigarette between their lips and jerked their chin toward the mountains.

"There's someone out by the foot of those mountains who digs up truffles and raises a few thousand cattle. Their family is treated like actual Aran. They say that whole village speaks Imperial language, even the babies."

"Huh......"

Quasi-applicable bloodline, affiliated bloodline, heterogeneous bloodline, Aran, ranks, bloodlines, nobles, Republican faction, royalty, pay...... The idle conversation at the snowy guard post drifted on.

Fwoosh.

Suddenly, snow collapsed somewhere in the brush.

The soldiers' expressions sharpened at once. They rushed over and raised their rifles.

"Hands up!"

"Get up! Before we shoot!"

Click.

As fingers settled on triggers, a nearly frozen man and woman stood up from the brush.

They looked like snowmen who had pushed through a blizzard, but their facial features were quite distinctive.

"Who are you?"

"......Wait."

The senior soldier examined both their faces closely.

"Hey, are you Yaken by any chance?"

Yaken?

The four soldiers exchanged glances.

"Speak! Are you Yaken or not?"

If they had no family register, they were Republican faction fugitives and could simply be shot. Yet their unusually distinctive features made the fingers on those triggers hesitate.

"Your mouth sticks out like that, so why can't you speak?"

"......Yes."

At last, the man answered first.

"Both of you?"

"......"

Their silence was an affirmation.

The Royalist faction soldiers lowered their rifles slightly, their faces looking as though they were suppressing laughter.

"Come here. Keep both hands up."

The two approached awkwardly. The senior soldier looked them up and down with a puzzled expression.

"But if you're Yaken, why are you running? You even look like a married couple."

"......"

There was no answer.

"Go on. It's fine."

"......We heard Yaken were sold to the Empire."

"What?"

The soldiers looked at one another, then burst into loud laughter.

Hahaha! Hahahaha!

The two Yaken looked utterly confused.

"Looks like those Republican faction bastards spread some ridiculous rumor again...... Well, I suppose it does feel a little like we're selling you, since we get a reward."

Bringing in Yaken earned a bounty.

There was one condition. They had to be alive.

Even a single scratch reduced the reward, so in this cordon that searched for fleeing Republican faction officials, no group was treated more politely than Yaken.

"W-what does that mean......?"

"Yaken just have to say, 'I'm Yaken,' and we let them through. We even feed you on the way. We get paid, you survive. Two birds with one stone. Of course, it gets a little different if you helped the Republican faction, but..."

"Wait!"

That was when it happened.

The man among the couple raised his nose slightly and spoke in a low voice.

"......That smell."

Whoooosh.

The blizzard swept over the mountains. The wind that rolled in made the Yaken's nose twitch.

"What smell?"

"......Someone is following us."

The smiles disappeared from the soldiers' faces.

Without a word, they adjusted their grips on their rifles. Crouching low, they erased themselves within the raging snowstorm.

"Hey. How do you know someone's following you?"

"The smell..."

"No. Aside from the smell, did something happen?"

"There were originally...... more people in our group......"

They did not say much, but the soldiers understood at once.

"Do you know why they were chasing you?"

"......Isn't it because they're Royalists?"

"What are you talking about? We're Royalists too. I told you, Royalists don't kill Yaken. Forget that, what kind of bastard was it?"

"Just...... someone strong."

The soldiers asked again, sounding troubled by the Yaken's answer.

"A superhuman?"

"Yes."

Sniff, sniff.

The soldiers looked at the Yaken sniffing the air and considered their options.

"......You know, one of the rewards..."

The senior soldier spoke again.

"It includes an upgrade to your family register rank."

The stamp on their registers read [quasi-applicable bloodline - III].

"If we save two Yaken, that should be enough to earn it."

A higher rank among the quasi-applicable bloodlines.

At the senior soldier's words, the other soldiers nodded and gripped their rifles.

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