Free Web NovelThe state of the battle had spiraled completely out of control.
Eleanor von Schwartz had never seen such a chaotic battlefield.
Flames were everywhere.
Explosions were everywhere.
Screams and wails were everywhere.
The originally orderly blitzkrieg tactics had collapsed into a boiling mess.
The communication channels were filled with static and fragmented distress signals: "—The northern line has fallen! The Fourth Armored Division has cut off our supply lines—"
"—The eastern line needs support! Repeat, the eastern line needs support! Three infantry regiments are closing in—" freёwebnoѵel.com
"—This is the western line, someone is firing on us! Is it friend or foe? Dammit, friend or foe?!—"
"—Attention all units, the main force has been forced to split, repeat, the main force has been forced to split—"
The tactical core of this operation was'speed'.
Rapid breakthrough.
Rapid segmentation.
Rapid annihilation.
Take Kaldburg within twenty minutes to clear the path for the subsequent advance.
But that damned Punishment Camp mecha had disrupted everything.
A delay of a mere ten minutes.
Just ten minutes.
Yet it was enough for the commanders of the Usar Union to seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Eleanor's mecha was currently traversing the battlefield in a pathetic state.
The right arm was gone.
The lance was gone too.
The armor was in tatters, and the power system was barely maintaining minimum output.
Warnings were everywhere on the monitor—overheating, oil leaks, structural damage, ammunition depleted...
She could no longer remember how she had escaped from that village.
After that monster vanished, she had thought the worst part was over.
But she was wrong. fгeewebnovёl.com
Usar mecha units were swarming in from all directions.
The remnants of the Seventh Knight Order were scattered.
She watched with her own eyes as ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) her teammates fell one after another.
Heinrich's mecha was besieged by three enemy machines, its cockpit pierced; Jorgen's mecha stepped on a landmine while covering her retreat, both legs blown off at the hip; and then there was Andreas...
She didn't even know when Andreas had disappeared.
Only snow-like static remained in the communication channel.
She could no longer contact anyone.
"Dammit..."
Eleanor grit her teeth, maneuvering her nearly scrapped mecha to dodge another round of shelling.
The shockwave of the explosion made her seat vibrate violently, and the alarm was shrill enough to drive one mad.
【Warning: Power core overheating】
【Cooling system failure】
【Estimated remaining operation time: 4 minutes 17 seconds】
Four minutes.
She only had four minutes left.
Eleanor quickly scanned her surroundings.
Wreckage and fire were everywhere.
In the distance, Usar mechas were approaching—at least three, maybe more.
She couldn't win.
In her current state, she couldn't even defeat one.
"...Damn it."
She made a decision.
The mecha's breastplate suddenly popped open, and the cockpit hatch rose.
Eleanor jumped down from inside.
A sharp pain shot through her right leg the moment she landed—at some point during the battle, a metal shard had embedded itself in her thigh, and she couldn't even remember when she'd been injured.
But she couldn't worry about that now.
She turned to take one last look at the mecha that had accompanied her for years.
To a Royal Knight of Victoriana, a mecha could be considered an extension of their life.
But now, she had to leave it behind.
"Sorry."
She whispered.
Then, without looking back, she plunged into the darkness.
...
Crossing the battlefield on foot was much more difficult than she had imagined.
Wreckage was everywhere.
Mechas, tanks, things she couldn't even identify.
Shards of metal were scattered across the ground, glinting with an eerie light under the reflection of the fires.
Corpses were everywhere.
Some wore Victoriana uniforms, some wore Usar uniforms, and some were burned beyond recognition, impossible to tell which side they belonged to.
They lay on the ground in various twisted poses; some stared at the sky with hollow eyes, while others were curled into balls as if still praying.
Defeated soldiers wandered aimlessly everywhere.
They were like the walking dead who had lost their souls, walking past Eleanor with vacant eyes, looking right through her.
Some were still muttering something to themselves, but their voices were too faint for her to hear clearly.
Usar mechas passed by in the distance from time to time.
Every time, Eleanor had to lie flat in the piles of corpses, holding her breath and waiting motionless for those steel behemoths to move away.
She only had a knight's rapier and a standard-issue pistol on her.
On this battlefield where mechas reigned supreme, these things were practically toys.
The pain in her right leg grew worse.
Every step felt like someone was stabbing her wound with a red-hot iron rod.
Blood had already soaked through her military boots, leaving a trail of intermittent marks on the ground.
She didn't know how much longer she could walk.
She didn't even know which direction she was heading.
...
She didn't know how much time had passed.
Maybe an hour, maybe two.
Eleanor could no longer feel the passage of time.
She only knew she had to keep walking.
To reach their own lines.
To reach safety.
To reach...
Her leg suddenly gave way, and she collapsed into a pile of ruins.
"Ugh..." She tried to push herself up, but her arms felt as if all strength had been drained from them, and she couldn't exert any force.
The wound in her right leg was throbbing violently, the pain having already spread to her entire lower body.
Maybe just lying here for a while...
She closed her eyes wearily.
Maybe just let it be.
Just then.
She heard a sound.
Very soft.
Very faint.
Like the whimpering of some small animal before death.
Eleanor snapped her eyes open, her hand already gripping the pistol at her waist.
She scanned her surroundings alertly.
Then, she saw a figure in the rubble not far away.
To be precise...
It was a child.
Eleanor crawled over with difficulty, every movement aggravating her wound.
But as she approached the figure, she couldn't help but gasp.
It was a girl who looked to be fifteen or sixteen at most.
She was curled up in the pile of rubble, covered in blood, like a crushed insect.
She was wearing almost nothing.
Bloody bandages were wrapped all over her—but those bandages were less for dressing and more just haphazardly wound around her body, serving no purpose in stopping the bleeding at all.
Her pale, almost translucent skin was covered in purple bruises and hideous wounds.
There were at least three penetrating wounds: one in the shoulder, one in the abdomen, and one in the thigh.
Her body was trembling unnaturally, as if her spine had suffered some severe damage.
The most shocking part was her face—the corners of her eyes, her nostrils, and the corners of her mouth were all covered in dried blood, as if she had just experienced some terrible internal hemorrhaging.
But she was still alive.
Her chest was still rising and falling faintly.
It was a flickering, tenuous breath that could stop at any moment.
Eleanor's first reaction was vigilance.
She carefully checked the surroundings, then checked the girl's body.
No weapons.
Nothing suspicious.
Was she really just a... child?
No.
Eleanor shook her head, forcing herself to calm down.
Even so, this wasn't something she should be concerned with.
As a Royal Knight of Victoriana, her mission was to return to her own lines.
Taking a heavily injured burden would only slow her down and increase the risk of being discovered.
What's more...
She glanced at the tattered bandages on the girl.
Those weren't standard Victoriana military supplies.
Which meant this girl was likely from the Usar Union.
An enemy.
Logic told her she should leave.
Logic even told her she should finish her off with a shot.
Leaving no survivors on the battlefield was basic common sense.
But... Eleanor looked at that pale, blood-stained face.
It was a face that hadn't yet completely lost its childishness.
An age where she should be studying in school, acting spoiled at home, or laughing and playing with friends on the street.
Yet for some reason, she had appeared on this hellish battlefield.
She thought of her own sister.
She thought of that little girl who always followed her around, calling out "Big Sister, Big Sister."
If it were her...
If it were her lying here...
"...Dammit."
Eleanor cursed under her breath.
She didn't even know who she was cursing.
Maybe she was cursing her own damned hesitation and weakness.
She sighed.
Then, she bent down and hoisted the girl onto her back.
Unexpectedly light.
Light as a sheet of paper.
Eleanor could even feel the other's protruding spine and ribs—this child was absurdly thin, as if she hadn't had a proper meal in a long time.
The girl's body was icy cold, with only a faint heartbeat proving she was still alive.
"You better not make me regret this."
Eleanor whispered, not knowing if the other could hear her.
She took a deep breath and, dragging her injured leg, continued to walk forward.
The weight on her back made every step even more difficult, and the wound in her right leg was protesting.
But she didn't plan on putting the girl down.
Just as she no longer planned on giving up on herself.
