Yelena Yumanov. Once a power within Lobrus, the sole surviving blood of the Yumanov noble landowners, purged by General Secretary Varmil.

She had now arrived at Labor Reeducation Camp No. 17 in northern Lobrus, in the guise of Maximilian's agent, the lawyer "Maksim."

"The previous director's term was almost up anyway, so getting rid of him was easy enough."

Warden Petrin surveyed the empty interior as he spoke. The place had already been neatly cleared out.

"This will be your office from here on...... Are you prepared?"

"Yes. Five hundred thousand blang."

Yelena handed over a suitcase packed with Lobrus currency.

"Good. That'll do."

Five hundred thousand was the going rate to grease the party's wheels and secure a camp directorship. As for money worries, Maksim had none. Maximilian was a funding source with a clean paper trail.

"Ah. One more thing."

Petrin pulled a small booklet from his breast pocket.

"Your party membership card came through."

"......"

-- 『Party Membership Card』 --

Name: Maksim Eduardovich Voronin.

Sex: Male

───────

Proof of becoming a new party member of Lobrus. A strange feeling welled up without warning. The person who had once been one of the People's Commissars of Internal Affairs, reduced now to just another rank-and-file member.

"Follow me."

Petrin beckoned. Yelena moved to the wide window of the camp director's office.

Beyond the clear glass, a white expanse spread out endlessly. Frozen earth filled the entire field of view.

This frozen land was thick with conifers, and somewhere out there, mana stone veins might lie buried beneath it all.

"Think you can manage it? The monthly quotas they hand down aren't easy."

Yelena let Petrin's question hang for a moment before answering. Her gaze drifted to the map resting beside the windowsill.

"Director. What is this?"

"A directive. A 'pioneering order' sent down directly from the party center."

A pioneering order. Studying the map quietly, Yelena's brow creased ever so slightly.

"May I ask something?"

"What?"

"These lines drawn here."

"Mm. The pioneering order lines."

Red lines drawn across the map. The routes that Camp No. 17 was to pioneer ran in perfectly straight lines, with no consideration whatsoever for differences in terrain elevation or geological features.

"A course like this is highly inefficient for prospecting and extracting mana stones or any other resources."

One basic fact: ore veins run in planes, not lines.

The purpose of the labor reeducation camps was surely not only to reform political criminals ideologically, but to grind their blood and sweat into the earth, to cultivate the territory, and to extract whatever resources the state needed as efficiently as possible.

"Haha."

At Yelena's observation, Petrin let out a dry laugh.

"Maksim. Up until now, that kind of critical thinking may have been what kept you alive."

Thud. He set a hand on her shoulder and let his gaze go cold.

"But once you've joined the party, you must not hold even a shred of doubt about the party's thinking and decisions."

Since Varmil Makstun became General Secretary, Lobrus had taken on a distinctly different character. No form of criticism or suspicion was permitted anymore.

"You just need to meet the quota. No more is required, but falling short is a problem."

Petrin slid a single sheet of paper across.

In temperatures below minus thirty degrees, a mining output that could only be achieved by forcing more than twelve hours of hard labor per day. Rations were dispensed in strict proportion to output, and the ranking among camps was determined by performance as well.

"......Yes. Understood."

"Good. You're adaptable."

Yelena nodded. Petrin turned back to gaze out at the other side with satisfaction, but Yelena's eyes stayed fixed on the pioneering order lines crossing the map.

"......"

Lines that seemed to carry no meaning and no purpose, as though drawn by sheer force of will.

And yet every last person in the party pledged loyalty and sang the praises of these orders they had no choice but to pioneer.

It struck Yelena, suddenly, that all of this felt somehow like a religion.

* * *

The Empire, Gennen branch office. I came face to face with the transferred prisoners in an underground interrogation chamber. Among them, the Izenheim operatives were executed on the spot, and from the imperial citizens who were not Izenheim, I gathered testimony about the labor reeducation camps.

One of the Anti-Regime figures who had been held in the labor reeducation camps murmured with unfocused eyes.

Fail to meet the quota and brutal punishment follows. Even if you somehow managed to meet it, surviving for long in those conditions was something close to a miracle.

The labor reeducation camps of the Eastern Alliance were in practice charnel houses that chewed through far more lives than even the Empire's own camps.

"Sir Knight. There is a visitor......"

Just then, a staff officer approached cautiously and whispered in my ear.

"Send the prisoners out."

I paused the interrogation. The iron door swung open and someone stepped inside quietly. A dark robe was pulled low over the face, but the dignity emanating from beneath it was something I recognized at once.

Princess Justine.

"You've come."

She tilted the robe's hood back slightly and smiled.

"You've brought quite a few of the Empire's enemies back with you."

"Yes. The prisoner exchanges will continue."

"Until when?"

To that question, I gave her the answer she wanted most.

"Until we strike Lobrus."

A flicker of something passed through the princess's eyes.

It was my honest feeling as well.

All of us wanted war in the end. She did. I did. The Emperor standing at the pinnacle of this Empire did too. The particular means we had chosen was the one thing we all shared.

"......Every time you come back from the East, you always bring satisfying results."

"It is only a trade. Our side must give up Lobrus remnants in exchange."

"They're barely human anyway."

Justine shot back with a twisted expression. She held a deep contempt for the Sled tribe, the Eastern Alliance's primary people, and practically refused to treat them as human beings, despising and looking down on them much as she did subspecies.

"Yes."

I was riding the tiger that was the Empire. This beast would become my greatest weapon.

...... Until the day I chose to climb down from its back on my own terms.

"And the intelligence gathered from the interrogations?"

"According to the prisoners' testimony, the labor reeducation camps had people doing nothing but digging up the earth and cutting down trees in a seemingly pointless pattern, day after day."

"Digging up the earth?"

Justine's brow furrowed. She looked as though she could not make sense of it, but the prisoners' testimonies had turned my suspicion into certainty.

Izenheim's plan to bring the world crashing down was already underway.

"Yes. Entirely inefficient and pointless work."

Which meant that from this point on, persuasion would be necessary.

"The East is wasting enormous labor on a massive scale."

A justification, to spare innocent subspecies and human beings who were not Izenheim.

"Your Highness. We must learn from their negative example."

As imperial Aran.

As citizens of humanity.

Another duty I had taken upon my shoulders.

"I wish to propose a new and modern concept of the camp, one that breaks from existing methods."

The most important thing in war is, in the end, people. Human strength.

To draw that strength out and use their labor as fuel. To gather that force, by compulsion if needed, and drive out the Izenheim who sought to destroy humanity.

"I ask that you delegate full authority over the Empire's camps to me."

For the first time, I laid my desires before the master of the Empire.

"......"

Justine said nothing and simply gazed at me steadily. That silence.

"To get what you want, you must first prove results worthy of it."

She rose from her seat and walked slowly around the interrogation chamber.

"Judas, the largest city in northern Mekerel, has been occupied."

The current state of the Balkania-Mekerel war of aggression.

"Though Balkania apparently hasn't been able to advance further from there and has bogged down in a stalemate. But it's only temporary. The gap in national power is too great, and Mekerel will fall in the end. No matter how much weaponry they receive from behind the lines."

That place, little more than the harbinger of a vast war that would soon engulf the entire continent.

I understood what the princess was asking of me.

* * *

A top-secret operation was resolved within the Sentinel Order. I handpicked the personnel myself.

Second-year Leon Askar, first-year Hanna Usar, first-year Royce, first-year Dare Tan, and rookie Mia.

The reason I included a rookie was simple enough: rookies need the chance to build their records too.

"This mission is classified."

I called them together in my private office.

The tired preamble of "nothing said here must ever leave this room" was skipped. Elites gathered here had no need for such petty warnings.

"Everything we do from this point forward is by the will of the Empire alone, the will from the very highest."

The very highest of the Empire.

Meaning the imperial family.

The knights' expressions went rigid.

I pointed to the map spread out on the table.

"The Balkanian army currently occupies Judas, the northern city of Mekerel."

Mekerel was a nation where rugged mountains and highlands made up most of the territory.

The terrain offered advantages for forming defensive lines, but the Balkanian offensive had been merciless.

"The Balkanian forces scattered mana poison gas through the mountain passes, and they've now seized and infiltrated the key strongholds in the mountains leading to the capital."

My finger traced across the map, touching the major Balkanian positions one by one.

"We retake these critical points."

Five knights studied the map with intent eyes.

"Residual gas remains, but these helmets will filter every mana toxin the enemy uses."

The first deployment of the knight-exclusive helmet developed by Lorenzo Academy.

"Conceal your identities as much as possible and move covertly. That means leaving no witnesses." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

This operation would become a perfect demonstration of what an imperial knight could do in a localized engagement.

......

Kugugugung--

Inside a transport vessel cutting across a pitch-black sky. Vibrations and noise shook the fuselage without a break. No amount of money thrown at the problem seemed to solve the rattling.

"Max."

Inside the transport, Leon glanced sideways at me.

"What are you reading?"

"A Mekerel language dictionary."

I lifted the cover just enough to show him. Leon's eyes went wide.

"Wow. A country like Mekerel even has its own language?"

Leon was an imperialist to the bone. Unlike his looks, and unlike his own blood Yulian, he carried a deep-seated prejudice against other peoples.

That was exactly why he was trustworthy.

"Yeah. It does."

"Huh. Who knew."

Leon leaned back against his seat. I turned a page and spoke without any particular feeling.

"Every nation's people has its own language. Every one of them, except for a single subspecies."

"Really? Which one?"

Leon looked over at me with curious eyes. I gave the answer right away.

"Izenheim."

I could feel the eyes of Royce, Dare Tan, Hanna, and Mia nearby, all quietly listening in on our conversation.

They were meant to hear it, of course.

"Their language does not exist anywhere in this world."

The Izenheim tongue had no roots in history or academia anywhere. I knew their true language, naturally, but it was not something to speak aloud.

"That's why they're beyond subspecies...... an anti-race."

Anti-race. The word had surfaced suddenly, but the feel of it in the mouth was just right.

The lowest rung even among subspecies. With the nuance that they exist to destroy humanity......

"That's really something. Maybe I should read more too."

By then, the transport had reached Mekerel airspace.

"All personnel. Prepare to drop."

First drop point. At my command, one of the knights rose.

"Hanna Usar. Deploying."

No rowdy cheering or rallying cries were needed. Each knight was a strategic asset carrying destruction on the level of an entire unit, a field commander capable of reading and controlling the battle situation independently.

Whoooooo--!

The transport's ramp opened and a fierce gale rushed in. Hanna did not flinch in the slightest. Like a knight, without a moment's hesitation, she threw herself out into it.

After her, Mia, Royce, and Dare Tan leaped out one by one at their designated drop points.

Leon relaxed into a smile and unhurriedly gathered up his gear.

"Max. See you later."

"Yeah."

"Leonhardt. Deploying."

Shwoooo--!

Leon completed his drop, and I stood at the ramp and looked out into the open sky.

"......"

The wind was sharp. Like the flow of history, rushing onward.

"Drop."

I stared into that darkness for a long moment, then pushed off.

Fsssssss--!

Free-falling from several thousand meters up, I looked down over the earth below.

Whoooooo--

Terminal velocity. Holding equilibrium as the air bore against my body, I surveyed the Balkanian garrison built in the heart of the mountain passes below.

Whrrr-

The helmet's visor covered eyes, ears, and mouth. In that instant, the sound of the air fell away. Eyes and ears sharpened, and the battle zone spread out wide. The enemy soldiers appeared only as heat signatures, their positions clearly mapped.

Midway up the mountain pass.

A company-level force installed at a strategic chokepoint. A garrison of a hundred-odd soldiers.

A knight dropped vertically toward it.

Silently, settling down as cold and steady as moonlight--

--

I cut through the throats of those wearing Balkanian uniforms. The fight did not take long.

--.

Wind shaking the mountain ridges. The elegant pressure stirred by the longsword's edge.

Kwaaaak--!

The Ebenholtz blade flying through the gaps between garrison posts.

A single knight reducing an entire strongpoint to rubble in an instant.

-! --!

Slicing through the necks of enemies who raised their guns too late.

Rushing at those calling for backup on radios, or those who stood to fight, cutting apart arms and legs.

-! --!

Throughout it all, the helmet's effect was outstanding. It felt no different from cutting through toy soldiers.

Fitting, really. A perfect way to strip away the guilt.

--! -! ---!

As I cut down every last enemy, I found myself feeling deep and genuine gratitude toward the military strategists of the era before my return.

[The problem was the Empire's rigid method of deploying knights only on the ground. The knight, the supreme expression of the Empire's Iron Men philosophy taken to its extreme, had clear value...... A knight would likely be most devastating when descending from the sky.]

Their insight had been exactly right.

Skrk--

I cut down the last soldier. The garrison was completely taken in just fifteen minutes, and I sheathed the longsword.

Beep.

Right on cue, a series of small signal tones came through the helmet's communicator one after another.

Two beeps for mission failure. One beep for success, as agreed.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

All five, without exception. A single beep each.

A knight's mission, though, includes the withdrawal.

"Upon concluding combat, do not remove the helmet and ensure you vacate the area immediately--" That was the new doctrine I had been writing for knights.

All of it, to reduce the guilt of the human beings called knights.

Beep.

I sent my own signal and slipped away into cover.

Among the hundred-odd I had just killed, there were no Izenheim.