The sky was shrouded in dark clouds, and the rain arrived without warning.
Only days ago, the midday sun still scorched unbearably, but now, after several consecutive days of rainfall, the temperature had dropped considerably.
Raindrops pelted Sennia's body, carried by a light breeze, and her steel helmet echoed with the sharp ping-ping-pang of rain tapping against it. As usual, she had tied her hair up—it made fighting easier that way—but that didn't stop the rain from running down her cheeks and hair, sliding along her neck. Some drops, mixed with the falling rain, trickled coldly into her collar. Needless to say, her uniform was already thoroughly soaked. While a Night Knight's physique wouldn't falter from something as trivial as getting drenched, the sensation of wet fabric clinging to the skin was still thoroughly unpleasant.
Beside her, Arcia, like everyone else, seemed completely unfazed by the downpour. Sennia had no choice but to begin learning how to march in the rain.
"Stop."
Otto, leading the group, had reached the top of a small hill and seemed to spot something. He knelt on one knee in the muddy ground, eyes fixed on the distance. With a quick hand signal behind him, the entire platoon crouched down to hide.
"Looks like it's our people," said Nordhausen as he moved up to join Otto, both of them watching the long procession marching along the open road.
"Seems our recent operations have really paid off."
With the alert lifted, Edwin also came up the hilltop, followed closely by Sennia and Arcia.
From afar, a massive black-gray column of troops stretched endlessly along the winding road. Infantry moved alongside all sorts of artillery drawn by vehicles or horses, a variety of transport trucks, and an extended line of heavy self-propelled assault guns creeping forward. But the most eye-catching presence of all loomed even further above—the enormous silhouette of a space-air battleship gliding low across the sky.
Its colossal frame, set against the backdrop of storm clouds and rolling thunder, exuded a suffocating pressure, even from this distance.
"That's the Heidrig."
Like the others, Sennia gazed at the war behemoth in reverence. It was the culmination of a century of Imperial technological prowess, a gift of wisdom from the ancient saints—an ultimate weapon that restored Dazilet's dominance, yet also the foul tool used by scoundrels to usurp power.
"How do you know?"
Edwin had only heard of these ultimate weapons—space-air battleships that had only begun construction shortly before the war. Dazilet currently had just three in active service.
"There were photos in the war reports. Besides, the Heidrig has always operated with our assigned Third Army Group."
"Oh, I never really paid much attention to those things."
Edwin shrugged, clearly uninterested in what he saw as political propaganda.
"You'd be better off not reading too much of that anyway. Hardly a word of it is true."
"Alright, let's move. The sooner we get back, the less rain we'll have to endure."
Just like always, Otto cut off the chatter and gave the signal to move out again. The platoon resumed their march.
...
The dirt road, already trampled by countless boots and churned by wheels and treads, was now a mud-covered mess under the relentless rain. A few trucks had already sunk into the mire, and the self-propelled assault guns, with their heavy tracks, were now tasked with dragging them free to keep the route open. The commander of the assault gun unit had no solution to offer—he simply had to follow orders.
Fourth Platoon had joined the column, but they were heading in the opposite direction. Suspecting that their company base had been relocated, Otto had gone ahead to try and establish contact. The rest continued marching at a standard pace.
"What's going on up ahead?"
Not far ahead, a crowd had gathered around a truck. As they drew closer, the platoon saw it was another vehicle stuck in the mud—this one, however, was an ambulance transporting wounded soldiers.
"Need a hand?"
Nordhausen stepped forward and struck up a conversation with a bespectacled, lab coat-clad middle-aged officer, who seemed to be in charge of the vehicle.
"Ah—yes! As you can see, this ambulance got stuck. The wounded who can still move have gotten out to help push, but the weight is just too much. We haven't made any progress."
The officer adjusted his glasses awkwardly. Behind him, bandaged soldiers glanced curiously at the famed Night Knights they had only heard about in rumors.
"Let us give it a try."
Nordhausen waved for his squadmates to move to the rear of the truck. The wounded quickly stepped aside to make room. Hearing the exchange outside, the driver, who had been halfway out the window, pulled back inside and got ready to assist. As soon as he felt the vehicle being shoved forward with immense force, he released the clutch and stepped on the gas. The truck shot out of the mud almost immediately, forcing him to brake hard to keep control.
"Thank you so much for your help!"
The officer had barely gotten into position to help push before the truck was already free.
"No problem. Get them back inside quickly."
The rain kept pouring down, and Nordhausen knew all too well how dangerous it could be for wounded soldiers to stay exposed.
With that brief detour over, Fourth Platoon resumed their march. Along the way, many soldiers stopped and turned to look at the Night Knights heading the opposite way, whispering to each other. But within the Knight squad itself, one slender figure stood out—curious as any of the passersby, she observed the weaponry with wide-eyed interest.
"These things really are prime examples of brutalist beauty."
Edwin had noticed Sennia's gaze and walked up beside her.
"It's my first time seeing all this up close."
Sennia treated the experience like a miniature parade. Artillery, vehicles, anti-aircraft guns, heavy machine guns, mortars, and those towering self-propelled assault guns with their long barrels—they made the earth tremble as they moved.
"That big one's called the Warhammer. Weighs over 200 tons, mounts a 330mm gun. A single shell can flatten a small building."
"But it's outdated. Back in the Conquest Era, it'd roll forward with the infantry—hence the name. But artillery tech is widespread now. I bet even the Church could field a few of their own designs."
Nordhausen joined the conversation.
"It just goes to show how unrealistic it is to rely on tech monopolies for an advantage."
Sennia's eyes lingered on the machine for a moment longer, thoughtful.
"Maybe so. I don't think too much about politics, though," Edwin said with a shrug.
"But she's right," Nordhausen replied quickly. "This war has shown me just how far Luvina has come in the past forty years of peace. It's not just the military—their cities are unrecognizable. I've even heard their air force planes outperform ours now."
"No matter how advanced the weapons, we're the ones who end up paying for the ambitions of politicians. We're the ones who die—and maybe take a medal to the grave."
"…"
"The worst part is, people across Dazilet still buy into all this. Now the whole country's dragged into the mud. We waited forty years for peace—only for that bastard to shatter it."
Apparently still furious, Edwin spat on the ground.
"If you ask me, he just wanted to distract everyone from the fact that he stole power in the first place."
"You'd better not say that in public. You'll lose your head."
Nordhausen nudged Edwin with his shoulder, but he didn't really disagree.
"I'm a dead man walking anyway. Let him come for me. But if Princess Hielaina ever raises the banner to punish the usurper, I'll be the first to join!"
"…"
No one replied, and Edwin fell silent, realizing he was getting too riled up.
"Otto's back."
Arcia, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up. Following her gaze, they saw a military vehicle approaching.
"Thank you for bringing me this far. My team's right here, so I'll take my leave."
"The honor is mine—delivering the guardians of the Empire is no small privilege."
The man speaking to Otto appeared to be a high-ranking general. Even his vehicle was far more ornate than standard military cars.
"What's going on?"
Otto adjusted the hem of his uniform and jogged back into the group, immediately picking up on the strange mood.
"Nothing. Just been in the rain too long," Edwin replied in a low voice.
Otto glanced at Nordhausen for confirmation.
"...Yeah. Just the rain."
Though he didn't get a clear answer, Otto didn't push further.
"Well then, let's head back before we all fall apart out here."