Salor Underground Bunker

Like the deep bass of a string instrument with a thick frame. Like wind striking a cave.

This is what a groan through the walls sounds like, Io thought.

The sound of a shuttered door being pounded. A scream without reason. Io’s passive skill “Hungering Jackal” adds harsh breathing, wet footsteps, and the grotesque sound of vomiting.

‘Mywas Abigo Squad, Merrill Nordren recording, I, I, recording.

First, to my late, late father and mother, I, I, apologize.’

Io manipulated the audio data of a woman with severe stuttering, her face rigid.

Is background playback this correct? Dim data room. Io transferred the data to her terminal, Little Lady, while opening a comms channel.

‘Io! What are you doing! Where’s the objective?!’

‘I’m almost there. Just keep quiet for a moment.’

Good place? Surrounded by monsters, are you playing with your prized possession now!

The infected variants are all targeting your data room! If we don't act now, they'll consume us!

Evacuation route secured. Reaper, I'm fine.

If only that were true— the checkpoint blockade will be complete imminently, get back here fast!

The scream comes from the Reaper.

S-something felt off from the start. T-this virus countermeasure team...

Unusual, abnormal assumptions—was making—had been making.

The virus's existence was classified—no, I misinterpreted the meaning.

The growls and impacts from outside the data room grow louder, more numerous.

Reactivated the shut-down surveillance cameras. The overhead cameras covering the corridor from outside the room to the door displayed a horde so vast it defied counting.

Humans. Lizards. Eyes bloodshot. Skin slick with some viscous secretion. Limbs broken, missing—some individuals entirely disfigured.

Bared yellowed teeth, bodies collapsing, yet somehow summoning unnatural strength, lunging at the door again and again.

No rationality. No memory of being human. No trace of lizard consciousness.

—Good work, Merrill. Now tell me.

—Enemy response increasing. Over sixty units detected.

—Calm down. It’s fine.

This “Salor Underground Bunker” spans over six kilometers in flat distance. Three levels deep.

Sixty or so zombies running around in it? So what?

Io settled heavily into the wheeled chair, checking Raven's remaining ammunition.

Self-check initiated. Equipment shows minor wear, but combat readiness remains at full capacity.

'K-ke, ke, conclusion first. The virus... it's a... a thing from Weedran...

But someone—someone—went to the trouble of digging it out of the grave...'

'Data file detected: encrypted.'

'Merill's. Extract it.'

'F-father, mother, forgive me. I—I... I helped with something utterly monstrous.

I should have known. I should have seen it. I—I...'

A woman's wail. Only sobs come through the speaker.

'All of you, all of you—burn in hell. May our bodies and souls be reduced to ash.

Above all, above everyone—ghosts of Johnson Maxima.'

——

Salor's underground bunker lies beyond contested territory. Weedran, advancing on Oxanun, pays little attention to areas already secured.

They pour most of their combat power into the front lines, attempting to drive humanity from Karaf.

Recovery units for necessary resources, and a handful of二线-grade units, patrol the rear—naturally, with negligible combat strength. That is why 3552 survived.

In other words, infiltrating Weedran's rear is never difficult with only a few personnel.

—That's the setup, apparently. As long as Garuda doesn't unleash energy weapons, anything goes.

Taking territory by force, yet Garuda remains a threat. Whenever it appears, the casualty rate among Coalition forces spikes.

The same holds true for unique characters tied to the narrative.

Rear infiltration mission—nothing special. Fighting zombies is better than dealing with Garuda.

……I’m no fan of horror though.

Io stood silently in the assigned quarters, methodically preparing. A private sergeant receiving a private room—unusual treatment, almost like an officer. Yet no one could figure him out. Too late for that now.

Crouke arrives. She glances at the scattered gear spread across Io’s bed, her expression sour.

“Sergeant—this a mission?”

“Apologies, Lieutenant. Classified.”

“Again, Sinclair?”

“No.”

Crouke violently flicks the loose rifle rounds from the magazine, clearing space.

She slides her small frame into the gap, scowling.

“…Purpose?”

“Classified, I said.”

“No, Sergeant. Yours. What task are you actually running now?

Heard you’ve been drifting all over lately. Carlyle Corporal told me.”

Doesn’t seem likely that Major Youalis would assign you a task. Unless it’s not related to Sinclair…

Sergeant, what’s the objective?”

Agent Io reached toward Crewk with a gesture meant to deflect. He smoothed the golden streaks of hair with deliberate care.

Crewk closed his eyes and let it happen.

‘Agent Io, it is recommended that you share information with Crewk McGibbon.’

‘(What? Why now?)’

‘If you leave her out of the loop any longer, she’ll begin investigating on her own.

You’ll end up needing to handle her like Natalie Vicker.’

Io withdrew his hand from Crewk and chose his words carefully.

‘…Do you know the situation the child soldiers on each frontline are in?’

‘…? The evacuation strategy on the Karaf continent is at its peak. Units below second-tier are just obstacles for combat formations.

Most should have already left the continent… but…’

‘No. Lieutenant. The children are being left behind.’

Cruuk’s eyes widen to slits.

That… can I really hear the details?

Don’t you want to know?

Sorry. That was a clumsy way to ask. Tell me.

There was no difficulty in explaining. He’d held the same discussion, multiple times, with multiple parties.

Interior surveillance equipment is disabled—or falsified. No risk of the conversation being overheard.

When he finished speaking, Cruuk threw the pillow at him first.

Why did you keep this from me!

The hard pillow bounces and falls. Io remains silent, leaning back against the chair.

This shouldn’t be allowed. The Karaaf Front Army is… abandoning responsibility!

No—The Citalskia Allied Forces are!

Cruuk’s anger is obvious. Exactly as expected.

She jumps up from the bed, then bites her lip and sits back down.

……still salvageable. If the sergeant’s words are true.

……cooperation with Sinclair was all just a transaction, then?

What next? What’s needed to move the ship?

A classified research dossier—needed to activate the former Vienne State Assembly Chair, Courange.

A research dossier? What kind? On a continent collapsing right now?

The Karauf virus. Its secrets remain at the Salor Bank, the one we stopped at earlier.

Cruuk stands again. Closes in on Io, who remains seated, eyes narrowing, face twisted in menace.

Sergeant… no. I see. Under these circumstances, you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

Lieutenant, keep the unit stable. Make sure we reach Audar without incident.

Fine, Sergeant. If you say so, I have my own thoughts.

What do you mean?

What do you think, with that clever head of yours? I’ll do as I please.

Cruick steps toward the door. Io grabs her wrist without hesitation.

—Let go, Sergeant.

—Calm down, Lieutenant.

What now. This is just making it worse.

—Was it negligence in her care that caused this?

—(Now you’re pulling that line?)

Cruick shakes off Io’s hand. Io presses on.

—Natasha knows too much about the military’s inconvenient truths. That’s why she’s hiding now.

—And you’re the one guiding her?

—...Yes. Lieutenant, don’t be reckless. The 3552 unit is under surveillance.

Cruick had shown explosive moments before, to be sure.

Under extreme stress, she had revealed many sides of herself.

But in the end, she never abandoned the calm logic of a commanding officer.

The girl only visible to the middle school students was calmer and tougher than any adult.

That was why Io repeated her words. She was not the kind to abandon the unit and surrender to emotion.

Don’t mock me. I’ll make you regret it, Sergeant. You’ve treated me as an outsider long enough. I’ll forgive you.

Fine. I promise. I remain calm. I would never endanger the unit.

Too bad, Sergeant. I thought you trusted me. You were mistaken.

I spoke because I trusted you.

Too late, fool!

Cruke yanked the door open, voice strained.

—That’s right. That’s true. I’m just a child, after all, Sergeant.

The door closes. Io scratches his head.

‘Let’s trust her reason.’

(Does this even work? …No, if she says so, it must be fine.)

Goblet's objective is Crewk's survival.

Unthinkable to forget that. If she says no more, then Goblet must have her calculations.

—

“This outcome wasn’t unforeseen.”

“…We disagree.”

“Is that so? If you’re as capable as the rumors claim, what opinion you hold matters little.”

Vime Amultas, Lieutenant. He gave no clear allegiance.

Here, in front of Io, clad in the latest model armor, he seemed slightly taller than during their last encounter.

The fieldwork jacket concealed his frame, but his physique showed he’d been rigorously trained.

“Honestly, surprising.”

Io watches Vime, still checking final equipment in the Condor, and his subordinates.

“I expected you to keep details of the Karaf Virus hidden.”

……I don’t feel the need to discuss that in depth.

It’s better if we remain ignorant of each other’s inner workings. That’s how we’ll cooperate smoothly.

Infiltration behind Weedran’s lines, and the survey of Salor’s underground tunnels.

That operation was supported by Vime’s Unknown Force.

——

The Condor used by Vime’s unit possessed stealth capabilities identical to the Condor previously used by the Charger. Transparency.

According to Goblet’s analysis, the armor material had to be altered to a specialized, fragile variant. Weapon capacity had to be sacrificed to maintain stealth. Combat effectiveness was markedly lower than a standard Condor.

Yet the advantage of deceiving enemy eyes far outweighed the disadvantages.

Different impression than when disguised, huh.

Io probed Vime’s reaction, testing slightly while the Condor moved.

You’re quite different from your usual self.

Usual, huh. Sorry about the eavesdropping device. … How do I look when I’m myself?

That morale is commendable. … Abandoning the mission is another matter.

The public relations assignment, you mean. Field judgment takes precedence.

A soldier’s duty is to follow orders.

Did I come across as seeking advice? My mistake—misunderstanding.

That tone of yours too. You usually at least show respect for rank. No matter the opponent.

Vime spoke, lifting the helmet visor and lighting a cigarette.

A brief preamble: if you like to talk, I’ll indulge you.

You rescued Natalie Vicker, didn’t you?

Io narrowed his eyes. Natalie was now under Vito’s protection.

Vime should have been summoned by Vito to participate in this operation. Yet from the way things look, Vito seems to be keeping Natalie’s whereabouts secret.

When Vime appeared, I nearly panicked, thinking he was linked behind the scenes—but they’re clearly not on friendly terms.

That’s acceptable. As long as you take responsibility for your own words.

Just to be clear, we have preparations in place for information manipulation and impression management. Furthermore, we also have details on Natalie Vicker’s family structure and her place of residence.

She’s implying she has countermeasures ready, just in case she leaks inconvenient information. Preparations for retaliation.

The fact that you’re resorting to threats suggests those countermeasures aren’t fully in place.

I said I don’t wish to be your adversary. Understand our sincerity.

No matter how long you hide, I’ll find you. Don’t make me kill your friend.”

“You should know by now what I’ll do if that happens.”

Haha. Laughing on purpose. Vime mirrored the expression. A sharp tension pricked the skin.

After a long stare, a squad member who’d been speaking with the Condor pilot signaled with a hand gesture.

——Enough pointless conflict. Time to work.”

Vime crushed the cigarette’s ember between fingers and tossed it into a portable ashtray.

——

Approach to the Salor underground bunker was made under cover of night.

The area was forested on one side, a ring of hills circling around to a bald mountain on the other. Vime’s unit landed the Condor on the bald mountain and covered it with camouflage-patterned sheets for concealment.

“Special material that blocks heat and certain electromagnetic waves.”

(Oh, I’d like some of that too.)

The Vime unit dispersed near the concealed entrance of the underground trench after completing their task.

Three members took up perimeter surveillance and secured the retreat route; one managed the helicopter.

Vime stood beside Io.

“From here on, it’s just you and me.”

“Strange talk.”

“What?”

“You’ve got a stealth unit that operates independently and active-duty personnel.

You could’ve conducted the investigation without me.”

“Do you see it that way?”

Vime seemed vaguely dissatisfied.

He slung his custom Raven—barrel shortened for close quarters—across his back and accessed the entrance.

“They lack the training to be called combat personnel. At least not in my eyes.

You may not be a good officer, but you can fight.”

“Harsh words for your subordinates.”

“…Everywhere’s short on talent. It’s a war, after all.”

Suddenly, a blue goddess swam through the field of view.

—Agent Io, it appears the Syndicate has detected our movements.

—…What?

—Text data from the Reaper.

Io gave Vime a hand signal to hold position. Peered into Little Lady.

—Where are you now. I need you and the data you're chasing.

That was all. The message was extremely concise.

—Vime, you're being followed.

—What are you talking about?

—Heat source, moving object approaching. Syndicate Assault Team. Special variant Condor.

Io looked up at the sky.

—Guests. Good. Seems to be friendly forces, at least.

Rotors whirred in fast approach. Vime snapped a curse into his comms terminal.

—Something's closing in. Report status.

—Unknown approaching. Details unknown. Signal pattern unknown… no, resembles the伪装 signal used by Special Forces in Audar.

You idiot—can’t even respond on standby.

One Condor, streaking with violet lightning, sheds stealth. The slide door snaps open.

A familiar armor emerges. The soldier pauses, scans the surface, then spots Io and descends.

Compressed air vents from the jump unit. Io halts Vime, who raises her rifle.

Reaper. Sinclair’s Condor, having confirmed her descent, disengages immediately.

Reaper… you came. Situation’s complicated, then.

Reaper hails from Yordbyk, a city turned hell by the Karaf Virus.

The Charger, which supposedly conceals the virus’s details, wouldn’t send Reaper even if it sensed Io’s movements.

If the virus were a human-made weapon… and that fact were known.

What Reaper would do next. She was never impulsive, but not the kind to stay silent either.

"Corporal, you’re on my side, right?"

Reaper seemed unsettled. Her voice trembled.

"Depends on the subject. If it’s something like Boomer’s hidden porn movie, I can’t be on your side."

"Corporal, I’m not… I know it sounds absurd, but I’m not calm right now.

I can’t play along with your nonsense. Give me a clear answer.

What the hell is the Karaft virus?"

Io shrugged.

"Exactly what I’m about to find out. You’re coming too?"

Reaper took a deep breath, shoved Io and Vime aside, and headed toward the concealed entrance of the Salor bunker.

Sinclair’s specialized terminal should have had the capability to hack the electronic door.

Even if it was just one person, they’d go.

"Captain Vime, stopping the Reaper is impossible."

"Does that mean I should just carry the risk?"

"Shoot him here? In the middle of enemy territory? Fight a woman like that Saber-Tiger?

Then I’ll shoot you too. …How hard is that calculation?"

"Count it. Count how many times you’ve threatened me. Remember that. We’re persistent."

"Fine. Feels like we’re getting close."

Vime shook his head and began walking.

Alive and back—!

Surrender before another deployment—!