18 The Queen’s Planet 3

Raven’s thrusters cannot sustain atmospheric combat.

Yet ascending slowly—this is manageable.

Resting intermittently, pausing at intermediate structures resembling halls, Jin and the others proceed toward the queen’s throne at the summit.

Midway, Jin notices something.

Beyond the mountain’s ridge. A shadow concealed within shadow, barely visible.

“That… is…”

Only now, at this altitude, does it become apparent. Without careful observation, it would not register in the field of view.

Few humans, dropped into an alien civilization of such peculiarity, would have the leisure to look so far.

Jin’s discovery was accidental. He had merely glanced at the mountain, noting how unexpectedly low it was—then spotted it.

The structure was vastly larger than anything belonging to the Terminus people.

Its shape was familiar.

And simultaneously, something that should not exist here.

"Bad. Making a detour."

Without waiting for the others' response, Jin leaps from the mid-level of the city.

Using thrusters, he glides directly toward the target point.

He lands with a violent kick-up of sand, slowing his descent.

Approaching, his heartbeat grows louder—unbearably loud.

"This is a relay vessel...?"

"Why is something like this here?"

The diplomatic delegation and Edelweiss, following closely behind Jin, mutter their observations.

Yes. It is a relay vessel.

The sole method of transporting people and supplies between ship groups.

In the entire history of the migration fleet, only one relay vessel had ever gone missing.

"Ah..."

The armor plating is shattered.

The central section has melted, no longer retaining its original form.

Yet one part remains—the section where the registration number is etched.

The number burned into his mind.

The ship Jin guarded ten years ago—failed to protect.

"Here you are. Everyone."

Scattered about, remnants of assault frames.

Though small fragments are indistinguishable, larger preserved sections reveal what once was Raven.

Eleven units, at least.

"Far out like this—couldn’t have answered even if we tried…"

The unit designation marked on the shoulder was barely legible.

The Immortal Siegfried Unit.

The lead frame.

"Unit commander…"

Ten years ago, the communications vessel struck by Overlight.

Assumed to have disintegrated—no trace, no form left.

Believed to have been scattered across the vacuum, exposed in pieces.

Wrong. It reached here.

"Edelweiss. This…?"

If inhabitants of this planet were aware, they would have noticed the presence of the communications vessel.

Jin asked, voice trembling.

The answer came, as expected—unwanted, unasked for.

‘It fell here about ten years ago. Along with the light known as Overlight.’

Edelweiss pointed to the sky as she spoke.

Indeed, the communications vessel had escaped the attack by jumping into another celestial sector via Overlight.

It had reached this planet at the end of that journey.

A miracle of probability.

Or perhaps, considering the subsequent crash of the Gay Bolk, there was something in this location that drew Overlight anomalies—something abnormal.

Hearing Edelweiss’s words, Jin said nothing. He opened the cockpit hatch.

The planet’s atmosphere was known to be breathable for humans.

No hesitation.

He simply wanted to get closer—just a little more.

‘Ah, Captain, it’s dangerous.’

…Let you do as you like. Yuriya.

Kou?

Let the Instructor do as he likes.

Kou gently rebuked Yuriya, his tone slightly firmer as he tried to制止.

Jin paid no attention to the exchange. His focus remained fixed on the object before him.

Impatient with the ladder’s slow descent, Jin jumped from midair and moved directly toward the联络 ship with his bare body.

He paused briefly to observe Raven’s wreckage.

The cockpit area was entirely melted. The shockwave alone had nearly killed him.

Those closer had not just lost a limb—they had been completely liquefied.

The serial number had melted away, rendering the identity of the craft impossible to determine.

He turned his gaze away, then resumed walking.

The联络 ship, unattended and neglected, was in ruins. He stepped inside. Dusty.

The presence of footprints meant Jin had not been here for many years, not even a single other soul.

Inside, few places remained intact.

A frame and armor plating unusually sturdy. Residual interior fragments embedded as if fused.

That was the state of it.

Still, relying on memory, Jin advanced step by step.

He could not be certain. But if Jin’s memory and perception were correct, this should be the seat.

A place where only a faint remnant of a melted outer wall remained.

Yet ten years ago, this was where Rei had sat.

He managed to support his trembling knees.

Had it not been for these ten years, he surely would not have endured.

Even now, despite the passage of ten years, the pain remained unbearable.

"Sorry it took so long to come see you, seniors."

The captain, who had taught him how to erase communication logs, had looked troubled.

The senior officers of his unit, who had criticized his combat record yet still supported him.

By the time he realized it, Jin had surpassed their age, leading his own unit.

"Sorry. Sorry, sir... leaving you here all this time alone..."

Jin emerged from the communications vessel ten minutes later.

"Edelweiss. There should have been people like us aboard this vessel. What happened to them?"

The anomaly was the absence of any painful remains, no matter where he looked.

Someone must have been ejected from the fissure in the communications vessel before impact, but not everyone would have met such a fate.

Therefore, it was unlikely that no one remained aboard.

The most plausible explanation was that the Terminus people had done something.

『We buried them according to our custom.』

Slightly unexpected.

That there existed a sentiment for mourning the dead.

"So you mourn the dead, then."

We receive our next life by being burned in the Queen’s flame. Even though you are outsiders, we could not bear to leave you exposed to the wild.

After a brief silence, Edelweiss spoke again.

“We did not know your method. We are sorry.”

“No, I’m not blaming you…”

For just a moment, he had hoped something—some remnant—might remain.

But even if Jin’s hands had held the body, in the Third Fleet, all the dead are uniformly organically decomposed and returned to the cycle.

Only DNA data remains in Memorial Park on Ship One.

Burying them here changes nothing.

“Odd of me to say this… but thank you.”

Jin thinks it is better than freezing alone somewhere in the void.

It is not the lonely end they feared.

For Jin, it was a fact that felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

At the same time, the words made Mio’s earlier statements take on a sharper reality.

The command existing beyond the cosmos—ASID could not possibly locate it.

That was what he had believed. Yet here it was, present in Mio’s homeland.

Receiving the next life. That is, the soul already existing as queen, which Jin and the others were calling upon, was being reused.

At least, Edelweiss believed so.

Even if Mio were the reincarnation of the command, she remained a daughter.

To see her as a replacement for the command was impossible.

Mio understood this, which is why she had reached the conclusion not to replace the past, but to change it.

“Ultimately, was it my fault?”

He had not been able to make her believe it.

That he was ASID.

When Mio realized it, she must have felt she had no place to belong.

That scream that day was its manifestation.

Then, learning of Rin’s existence—like a final blow.

Mio was intelligent.

Given the necessary knowledge, she could deduce what kind of being she truly was.

She should have said it.

It had nothing to do with her.

She had never equated herself with Rin.

But guilt remained.

The reason she had taken Rin in—something she still could not fully distinguish within herself—undoubtedly included the aspect of replacing Rin.

That guilt was what had prevented Mio from revealing the truth until now, and what had made her the thing that frightened Jin that day.

Had Jin taken her hand without hesitation, he might have pulled her back.

The thought was close to delusion—and it had tormented Jin ever since.

“…I’m sorry. I took your time. Let’s go see the Queen.”

He climbed back onto Raven.

In sparing time, he had wasted unnecessary moments.

"…I’ll come again."

When the next visit will be is unknown.

Yet he felt certain this place would let him sense Rei and his comrades nearby. That was his intuition.