Lance Charge on the Arkship, but No Mount

Another issue was that the chainsaw's teeth could easily get jammed with debris. At high speeds, debris could easily get caught in the gaps between the teeth, potentially causing the chainsaw to stop working.

"My strength is pretty great, so I can easily overcome the balance and weight issues. As for the teeth getting caught on things, my chainsaw spins at a very high speed, and it is mostly used to break through fortifications and defenses. With the support of my Originium Arts, getting jammed is actually extremely unlikely."

"Anyway, I've never run into that problem! Maybe I'm just incredibly lucky." Not long after they started drinking together, Blaze had already thrown an arm around Claude's shoulders. The girl was indeed cheerful and outgoing, perhaps a little carefree as well.

"For that kind of use, it really is a very suitable weapon. Miss Blaze, what tactics do you usually use? Do you attack from the front? But I don't see you wearing much protective gear. That seems rather risky."

"Her tactics might be one of a kind in this entire world," Ace said from beside them, taking over the conversation. He took a deep swig of beer, foam clinging to his beard.

"Her tactic is to take an aircraft three hundred meters above the enemy, then jump straight down into the middle of them." Even this serious middle-aged man could not help smiling as he said it.

"She also likes taking her teammates down with her. Every time, she scares the hell out of the younger ones."

Claude was thoroughly astonished. He had never imagined that someone could jump from three hundred meters in the air and emerge completely unharmed. Even when he had been a legion commander, he would not have dared to be so reckless. The only time he had ever made a rapid descent from the air was when Hart had been struck in the wing and was spiraling out of control. To lighten his old companion's burden, he had jumped from the griffin's back.

Even then, he had been absolutely certain of his chances. From a height of a few dozen meters, he could rely on his physical constitution to endure the impact. But three hundred meters was far beyond anything he could imagine. He had never tried it, but he would never do something so foolish, either.

He could not help looking at the girl beside him in amazement. Had her physical strength already surpassed that of a sixth-rank demigod?

Seeing what Claude meant, Blaze hurriedly explained.

"Mr. Claude, don't misunderstand. If I really fell from three hundred meters up, I'd die too. The main thing is that my Originium Arts can cushion the impact, so it's basically like using a parachute. There isn't really much danger, though it can be pretty frightening."

Claude nodded in sudden understanding. Indeed, even if her physical abilities had reached that level, the teammates descending with her could not all be so powerful. There had to be some kind of cushioning measure. Otherwise, her teammates would be crushed into meat patties by the tremendous impact.

Still, daring to jump from such a height was enough to prove that this girl possessed extraordinary courage. Some people would not even dare look down from that high up, much less jump.

In that relaxed, casual atmosphere, Claude chatted with them for two or three hours. He smoothly joined their drinking group, and when they parted, Blaze invited him to spar with her the next day. She was very curious about Claude's strength as well. Naturally, Claude accepted such a fine opportunity to hone his martial skills without hesitation.

When he pushed open the door, it was already past two in the afternoon. It was time to train Reserve Action Team A4. Claude hurried toward the training grounds. He had enjoyed the conversation a little too much, and there was not much time left before training began, so he picked up the pace slightly.

Thus, that evening, Kal'tsit inexplicably received several reports from operators aboard the ship. They said they had heard a thunderous sound pounding across the deck of Rhodes Island and seen a black blur flash past, too fast to make out what it was. Kal'tsit, who was said to know everything, fell into rare silence. Only after reviewing the surveillance footage in slow motion did she discover what had happened.

"Today's meeting concerns the proposal Amiya raised regarding the rescue of the Doctor. This is a major matter, so all of us must vote on it."

It was still the same conference room. Kal'tsit sat in her seat and looked around at Rhodes Island's core members. Everyone fell silent.

The Doctor, once known as Babel's Evil Spirit, was famous throughout Kazdel. Countless Sarkaz mercenaries whispered that name in fear. In their hearts, this person was the embodiment of war and death. Everything he did was for victory. Other than yourself, anything could be selectively discarded. It was precisely because of his cold, merciless, utterly rational conduct that he earned the title of Babel's Evil Spirit.

After Babel's leader Theresa was assassinated, the Doctor was also severely wounded. To preserve his life, Kal'tsit sent him into a device called the "Sarcophagus" in the mobile city of Chernobog to sustain him. Now, Rhodes Island's situation was worsening by the day. Amiya proposed rescuing the Doctor and having him lead Rhodes Island in order to break free from their predicament.

During the voting after an intense debate, Kal'tsit abstained. Even she did not know what choice she should make—whether that person ought to return...

In the end, the votes in favor held the majority, so the proposal to rescue the Doctor passed. The next step was to formulate a concrete plan.

They relied on Rhodes Island's artificial intelligence, PRTS, to assess the feasibility of their plans through calculations. However, the outlook was not encouraging. The vast majority of plans were deemed unworkable, and they were on the verge of reaching a deadlock.

Everyone watched streams of data flash across the central screen and sank into speechless silence.

The polished marble floor was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the castle's interior. Heavy, magnificent curtains hung by the windows, and every edge was adorned with exquisite patterns. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass skylight, which depicted a knight slaying an evil dragon.

The walls were decorated with smooth oak panels that gleamed with a warm, lustrous sheen under the lights. The most eye-catching feature was undoubtedly the enormous chandelier hanging in the hall. The energy of magic crystals burned within it, casting gentle light into every corner of the room.

A long table stood in the center of the spacious hall. Carved from heavy ironwood, it was a full ten meters long. Dozens of high-backed chairs stood beside it, all polished until they shone.

Claude did not like living in a castle. It was cold as hell in winter, and no matter how many people lived there, it always felt deserted. But they had to live there. Only its heavy walls and towering fortress could keep those beasts out on the wilderness when they invaded.

That was right. The Duke of Korkos's castle stood on the Empire's foremost frontier. Every freezing winter, they had to face the beastmen's armies head-on. He had once asked the previous duke—his father—why he had decorated the hall so lavishly in such a dangerous place. Would it not be easily damaged?

But that man, as strong as a bear, merely clapped him hard on the shoulder and burst into laughter.

"Because I like it, of course! Who says that just because we're fighting those beasts, we have to live in a place that looks like a doghouse? This is what I like! It makes me happy just looking at it."

Although he had decorated the castle so beautifully, he still ate the same way he always had. Every week, he and his generals would share a good meal at that long table. Of course, what they considered good was not all that good in Claude's eyes. It was just huge chunks of magical beast meat tossed into a pot and boiled, with a little seasoning sprinkled on top. Sometimes, there was still blood on the meat.

Mealtimes were also when they discussed military affairs. None of them used knives and forks, because such delicate utensils could not handle great hunks of stewed meat. They ate with iron forks as wide as their palms and daggers held in their hands. They always devoured their food like a whirlwind, washing it down with distilled fire liquor shipped from the Empire's interior—a drink that felt like molten lava going down in a single gulp.

In the Empire's northernmost, frozen reaches, the Empire's generals possessed tempers and personalities as fierce as blizzards, and they often paid little heed to trivialities.

When Claude was little, they always liked to sit him on the table during meals and stuff chunks of meat bigger than his head into his hands, claiming that "a man has to eat more meat to grow strong." But the meat they cooked was truly awful. Whenever that happened, his mother would come out cursing, kick his father a couple of times, then carry him away.

That hall was lively all year round. His father and generals commanded their troops there, stopping the beastmen's invasions time and again. Their laughter during meals could even be heard by the servants feeding horses in the courtyard.

When Claude was eight, he was sent to a training camp to become a reserve of the First Legion, and an air knight personally came to collect him. On the day he left, both his parents came to see him off. His mother had always been a strong woman, capable of snapping a snow wolf's neck with her bare hands, yet that day, she cried for once. His father wore his heavy armor, the breastplate alone as thick as a thumb. A savage scar ran across his rough face, nearly blinding his left eye.

His father showed no sadness. He merely embraced him for once, rubbing his stubbled chin against Claude's face. After sending him away, he still had to lead the army on their yearly winter hunt. Naturally, the prey they hunted was beastmen, to prevent their numbers from growing too large and gathering into a threat to the Empire's borders.

By the time he climbed into the griffin's saddle, his father had already turned away without looking back and returned to his formation. Dense banners concealed his figure. The air knight who had come to fetch him reached out with a broad armored hand, pulled him over, and set him in his lap to keep him from falling during the griffin's flight.

"You'll be far greater than I ever was. After all, you're the son of this duke." Seeing the little child staring at his father the whole time, the air knight spoke with a sigh.

But Claude had never imagined that would be the last time he saw his father.

At the time, though the beastmen of the wilderness had always been at a disadvantage in their war with the Empire, they had not yet reached the desperate point of life or death. On that barren land, the beastmen's numbers were forever limited by a fixed threshold. Once they exceeded it, massive famines would break out.

Thus, if the beastmen wanted to expand, they had to seize the Empire's land. Whenever their population exceeded that threshold and they could no longer feed their clansmen, a powerful beastman would always rise from the wilderness and become the high chieftain of all beastmen. He would rally them to invade the Empire for survival, only for them to crash against the Duke of Korkos again and again until their heads were bloody.

Then the beastmen's population would plummet again, leaving enough food to sustain themselves as they began preparing their next invasion. The blood of countless beastmen had been spilled across that defensive line, yet they could never advance even a single step. It had become the curse of their race. Repeated failures had made them stop caring about anything else. To them, the only use of children they brought into the world was to die someday—preferably after taking two enemies with them.

Perhaps the blood and bones of the beastman race stirred the pity of their god, for a powerful leader rose among them. Blackblood Broken Tooth became the first to press close to the Empire's interior.

Claude's father died on that wilderness. He led his legion in holding the line for seven full days and nights, buying precious time for the Empire's forces to mobilize. The entire legion was attacked by beastmen several times their number and was wiped out on that wilderness.

At that critical moment, Claude's mother organized the remaining soldiers and held the castle, successfully dispersing the beastmen's forces. Then, under the Emperor's orders, several legions immediately prepared themselves and marched north, stopping the beastman army at the border between Korkos Territory and Doran Territory.

Against half of the Empire's military strength, the beastmen ultimately failed to create a miracle. Aside from Blackblood Broken Tooth, who broke through with overwhelming strength, every other beastman was exterminated on Imperial soil. But Korkos Territory, swept over by their advance, had been reduced to scorched earth.

After the war, Claude received permission to return home, to the castle whose outer walls were stained with blood. More than half the servants inside had already died in battle. In that familiar hall, he found his mother. She sat in the chair his father had always used, staring blankly at the doorway.

He swiftly removed his iron gauntlets and threw them to the floor, then hurried to his mother. Her unfocused eyes finally settled on his face. Now a young man, he was still taller crouching down than she was sitting. As always, he buried himself in his mother's arms, and she held his head.

"Ya'er, my Ya'er. You're already an adult now, an extraordinary knight. Your father would surely be so happy to see you..."

"I will avenge Father."

At that moment, he could not say anything else.

"Of course. I have never doubted that. I believe my child will become an extraordinary man. Of course you can do it... Look, even your father is praising you..."

At the time, he did not raise his head. He merely remained silent.

Years later, when he stood atop Broken Tooth's behemoth beast with that enormous head in his hand, he would always remember that evening when the sunset burned like flames. He remembered his mother, half her hair turned white, holding his head and stroking his face, along with her words and that sigh.

"My child, what exactly are you searching for? Why are you so... lonely?..."

That was right. What had he been searching for all those years? He could no longer return to the past, so why could he not cherish what he possessed now? Unfortunately, by the time he understood that truth, it was already somewhat late. Still, at least he had not missed everything completely.

Unfortunately, he had celebrated too soon. Just a few short years later, his mother died as well. That strong woman of the snowy lands ultimately could not endure such immense grief. Worn down in body and spirit, she passed away far too early.

His father had once been an ordinary knight, earning his later position only through countless brushes with death on the battlefield. Later, he brought his mother to this northernmost defensive line, where they spent half their lives. They had no relatives at all, only each other.

And he lost the last family he had in this world.

What am I searching for?

Claude opened his palm and looked at the fine lines within it. As though idly daydreaming out of boredom, he traced the beginning and end of every line, watching where they converged and separated. Then he closed his hand, as if grasping something.

"No need to search anymore."

The white knight in his hand captured the opponent's black king. The black chess piece toppled onto the table with a crisp clack, followed by Claude's smug voice.

"I won again."

Ace straightened up with a helpless expression, picked up the wineglass beside him, and took another drink.

"I'd better stop playing for now. I've already lost six games in a row. If I lose any more, I won't dare touch this game again."

The resolute-looking middle-aged man shook his head as he stepped away. Then, under Claude's faintly smiling gaze, another challenger stepped up.

"I'll give it a try." Scout wore an eager expression as he swiftly arranged the black pieces.

"Welcome. I'll take on anyone." Claude began moving as well, returning the white pieces to their original positions.

Another battle unfolded upon the tiny board. Both men were fully focused, as were the spectators around them. Everyone concentrated on that small chessboard.

Yet beneath Claude's calm gaze, Scout still felt immense pressure. He had no idea whether each move he made was one Claude wanted him to make, or one he himself had chosen. No matter how bold a test he attempted, his opponent never wavered, effortlessly dissolving every challenge.

The further the game progressed, the harder it became for him to continue. Every move consumed immense mental effort. It felt as though he had fallen into a spider's web—the more he struggled, the greater the resistance became, until it finally tightened around him and strangled him.

At last, the moment came for the net to close. By the time Scout realized it, the other side's advantage was already absolute. He had no room left to struggle. No matter what move he made, it would lead to death, so he decisively conceded.

"Mr. Claude, you're far too good. It's like you had already calculated from the very beginning exactly how you would finish me off! I keep feeling that every move I made was within your expectations. This game was absolutely miserable."

Scout bitterly complained to Claude. The feeling of being entirely under an opponent's control and suppressed at every turn was certainly not pleasant. It was like being tied down and forced to watch a blade draw closer and closer to one's chest, utterly powerless to do anything but wait for death.

"That's why those people stopped wanting to play chess with me. They said there wasn't any fun in it. But this is your first time."

Claude finally stopped pretending and revealed a smug grin. He seemed to have found quite a bit of enjoyment in it, and his expression even carried a hint of mischief.

After Scout was defeated as well, everyone else calmed down. Scout was already among the best chess players there. If even he could not win, stepping up themselves would only invite humiliation. So no matter how expectantly Claude looked at them, no one was willing to be the first to stick their neck out.

"What a pity. If the Doctor were here, he should be able to give you a real match, Mr. Claude."

Blaze, who had been watching with great interest from the side, suddenly said this, instantly piquing Claude's curiosity.

"Oh? That Doctor isn't here right now? He must be very good."

"Of course. The Doctor is very skilled at chess. Back then, no one here was a match for him either. But he really isn't here. There are some special reasons... Sorry, Mr. Claude, I can't tell you about that unless Miss Kal'tsit gives the order, or tells you herself."

Miss Blaze gave Claude an apologetic expression, but Claude propped his chin on one hand, his eyes thoughtful.

"The Doctor, huh?"

Kal'tsit lifted the porcelain cup from the table and took a sip of the bitter drink inside. It was the strongest black coffee available, yet the white-haired woman with streaks of green in her hair drank it all without changing expression. The long, fair fingers of her left hand lightly tapped the keyboard, producing plans and tables that would make ordinary people dizzy at a glance.

The green dress she wore exposed her shoulders, where crystals clearly revealed her identity as an Infected.

Kal'tsit worked without distraction until she finished organizing the day's medical records and filed all the documents away. She gained ten minutes of free time, but still returned to her desk, rubbing her temples. After hesitating for a moment, she took out a vial from her desk and injected it into the deltoid muscle of her shoulder.

Once the injection was finished, she threw the remaining packaging into a designated trash bin. Her spirits visibly improved, and she pulled up plan after plan on her computer. Seeing the red rejection marks on most of them cast a shadow over her heart.

Achieving their goal would be exceedingly difficult. It would be hard to bring the Doctor out of a city in the Ursus Empire with only their current strength. And as someone who had lived for a long time, Kal'tsit knew very well what they would encounter. If they went to retrieve the Doctor, that insidious black snake that slipped through every crack would certainly notice them. When that happened, it would bring countless more troubles.

Feeling irritated again, she rose to make herself another cup of coffee. But the terminal on her desk chimed. She instinctively sat back down, opened the message she had received, and could not help raising her eyebrows.

Five minutes later.

"Mr. Claude, Miss Kal'tsit has agreed to meet with you. Please take Passage Three."

Claude lightly knocked on the unfamiliar door before him. He waited patiently for a while, then turned the handle and entered after receiving a response.

Rather than an office, this place resembled a doctor's consultation room. A pale curtain partitioned off an area beside the desk, where all kinds of medical equipment had been placed. Doctor Kal'tsit also had a stethoscope around her neck and a medical operator's armband on her arm. She appeared to be at work.

"Hello, Doctor Kal'tsit. There is something I would like to discuss with you."

Kal'tsit examined the young man before her, looking at his smooth forehead and narrow eyes. No matter how she looked at him, he was a vigorous young man full of life. Yet whenever she dealt with him, she always felt that his experience far exceeded that. Not to mention the things he had done; even in her own estimation, they were no small matters.

"Of course, Mr. Claude. You are an important partner of ours. Naturally, you have the right to present a proposal to us." Kal'tsit remained impassive. She wanted to hear what exactly he intended to do.

"Doctor Kal'tsit, may I ask whether you know someone codenamed the 'Doctor'?"

Kal'tsit showed no surprise whatsoever. She knew perfectly well that given this man's abilities, it was only natural that he had learned of the Doctor after spending so long aboard this landship.

"Mr. Claude, I am indeed aware of the relevant circumstances, but I do not believe this has anything to do with our cooperation." Kal'tsit instinctively tried to refuse him.

"Don't be so quick to refuse me, Doctor Kal'tsit. You are troubled by something right now, aren't you?"

Kal'tsit glanced at Claude before finally speaking.

"I do not believe I revealed any flaws. How did you notice, Mr. Claude?"

"Instinct. In other words, I guessed. Of course, now I'm certain."

Kal'tsit's expression stiffened slightly, then immediately returned to normal. But she fell silent for the moment, while Claude continued.

"Your company's combat personnel lack a true commander, don't they?"

"Was that also a guess, Mr. Claude?"

"No. I can see that much, and your company has never tried to hide it, has it?" Claude adjusted his posture slightly, sitting more upright.

"Then let me make another bold guess. Is the 'Doctor' that former commander-in-chief?"