Delta gripped the control levers with both hands and climbed toward the highest point in his sight.
The Titan roared into the distance. All the floating units behind it unfolded, azure particles drifting out like gauze.
Wind and rain parted before him as he sped through this darkness devoid of light.
Whether they were soldiers or technicians, there should have been no difference. He always seemed to complicate such simple questions. Was there really any need to dwell on where one fought?
Piercing clouds and tearing through the wind, the steel giant ripped disaster apart and broke through layer upon layer of encircling Black Mist.
A beam of warm light shone upon Delta's face.
Was he fighting for humanity? Did he truly want that?
That really was an equation he had failed to solve his entire life.
The heroes he had seen on television as a child always appeared in times of crisis, defeated the villains, and saved people.
They were so cool.
Later, Delta had failed to become a hero, and so had that person. They had both merely been insignificant members of the "people," waiting for someone else to save them.
That person had not lived to see a hero. When he went to his death, he did not even have comrades beside him.
Breaking through the clouds into sunlight, brilliant, cheerful rays fell upon Delta's smiling lips above the layered clouds.
He could not tell whether it was warm or cold. Delta could no longer feel the existence of his body.
People were always making choices on the road to the end, forcing themselves to choose, choosing what others told them was "correct."
You have more talent for research. You are worth more than an ordinary soldier. You are humanity's hope for the future.
And so, he