Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume8 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 17===

“Gah!?” gasped Quenser as something struck his back.

The thick metal pipes running everywhere like blood vessels reminded him that he had fallen to a lower level.

Something must have happened to the wiring because the lights were out. The area was dark and his back was soaking wet because a giant puddle of seawater covered the entire floor. This was below the waterline, so he hoped it was from a burst pipe. A broken exterior wall would be truly terrible.

He stood up, leaned against a nearby column, and thought.

(What do I do? I can’t get back up the way I came, so I have to find a different set of stairs. Can I get the lights on? Or would that tell the enemy where I am?)

He then heard some static from his radio.

He hoped it was from Heivia or the others, but it was not.

“A rat in the birdcage.”

He grimaced.

That was the silver-haired brown woman he had spoken with before. She was most likely Moss Green’s commander here.

(When did they break our encryption!?)

[[Image:HO_v08_103.jpg|thumb]]

“Listen. I said a rat, not a little bird. Raptors prefer lively prey.”

“You’ve already won. Ame-no-Darin really does seem to be sinking. We can’t turn this around and the Legitimacy Kingdom can’t keep this civil war going if it sinks. So what more do you want? Don’t you have to retreat as well!?”

“It’s simple.”

Quenser looked around as he listened to her.

The area was dark and his enemy had to be skilled at remaining hidden. A near-amateur student would not be able to find her by effort alone.

“Sinking the Ame-no-Darin was our top priority and we got that over with quickly. That means we can veer off course and deal with a more personal and meaningless objective. As long as we accomplish our mission, the higher ups will turn a blind eye to a short detour.”

“Don’t tell me you’re taking revenge for your killed men.”

“They weren’t the type to die in a place like this.”

For the first time, human emotion poured into her voice.

Trusting the chill running down his spine, Quenser checked over his equipment again. He had a balled-up diving suit, an oxygen tank, and the Hand Axe plastic explosive. In his survival kit, he had a small knife and a metal skewer, but he could not use them very well. Not even Heivia would think of handling a Northern Restricted Zone warrior with only a knife.

“I couldn’t bear to throw them into the ruthless Northern Restricted Zone right after they finished boot camp. Before showing them true hell, I wanted them to prove themselves in these lukewarm battlefields and earn a few medals. But look at this. Now I have to bury them without anything decorating their chests. How can this happen? With a funeral as pathetic as this, they’ll never live down the shame even in heaven.”

“I thought the people who lived where Objects are banned would know just how unreasonable this line of work is. If you didn’t like it, you should have claimed they weren’t suited for this and swept them aside. You were in a position to do that!!”

“This is where that was supposed to be tested!! They were supposed to shoot you sheltered snot-nosed brats like it was a walk in the park!!”

Quenser finally felt he had seen where her anger was coming from.

She was not simply angry that her men had been killed.

If they had died in their actual battlefield in the Northern Restricted Zone, she may have written it off as unavoidable.

But this was below them.

She had looked down on it.

As a warrior, she was unable to forgive the fact that they had been killed by scrawny Quenser and the others who could only fight while protected by an Object. If someone died in single combat with a great warrior or a hero, their name might remain in history, but that death would be meaningless if they were instead killed in their sleep by wild dogs or bandits that were digging through the dead on the battlefield. This was no different. They had never been treating Quenser or his fellow soldiers as human.

She had said her men were not the type to die in a place like this.

That proved it more than anything else.

“You’re twisted. I feel like an idiot for thinking I did something wrong even for a moment.”

“I will take off your head, you damn poodle. It’s high time you learned to fear the wolf who was born in the forest and rules the mountain. I’ll leave you in such a tragic state that they won’t know what to carve on your grave, but I’ll at least stuff your head and offer it in place of fruit.”

In that dark place, the thoroughly trained wolf began preparing for her silent hunt.

If Quenser did nothing, his throat would be torn out.

Even if he gave this a normal level of effort or tried to protect himself with the standard methods, his weak poodle legs would not accomplish much.

He checked over his equipment again: balled up diving suit, oxygen tank, Hand Axe plastic explosive, small knife, and metal skewer. However, he doubted any of that would be of much use.

What could he do with only those supplies?

If he did not find an answer, his fate was sealed.