Bang! Bang bang!
Cold, trembling, scorching…
An indescribable chill, as though a rough file was tearing apart a frozen body.
Why is it so noisy? And why is the bed so hard? Did Shiro kick me off the bed again? Hiss… It's cold, must be Shiro—she even turned the AC down so low.
She's getting more and more outrageous. Looks like it's time I showed my authority as her onii-chan…
In thought, his hazy mind gradually cleared. Crimson eyes opened, adjusting to the light, slowly focusing. What he saw was blood and fire everywhere. On the scorched earth drifted the smell of leather and burnt flesh.
Huh?
The red, spiky-haired young man lay sprawled on the ground, blinking in confusion.
Looks like I really need to rest. Pulling all-nighters for almost a week straight… Shiro doesn't even care if her beloved onii-chan dies from exhaustion. Controlling four characters at once to PK against an entire guild… that's inhuman.
He thought silently, then closed his eyes again, instinctively turning over, reaching for the blanket, the phone… Wait?! Where's the blanket? The phone?
In that instant—hold on!
Whoosh! Realization struck. He shot up, eyes wide, scanning around.
What filled his vision were barbed wire fences crisscrossing the charred, broken ground.
From near to far—faces filled with fear and confusion, tall and robust guards clad in unknown exoskeleton armor, officers in peaked caps like those of the Imperial Guard at Tokyo's Chiyoda Palace, barbed wire, armed automatons, massive tanks, humanoid tactical weapons…
Who am I?
Where is this? Where did I come from? What just happened?
His mind trembled. Broken thoughts began to reconnect.
My name is Sora. Eighteen. The proud brother of my sister—Shiro.
This is a different world called "Disboard."
My sister Shiro and I were brought here from our home in Tokyo by an unreliable existence calling itself the God of Games.
At the request of a new friend, Stephanie Dola—the last princess who suffered—plus our own desire to make a mark in this world where everything is decided by games, we took part in this.
He and Shiro had been in Elkia's royal palace hall, participating in the so-called "next king selection" gambling tournament, preparing to defeat that guy cheating with elf magic.
And then—nothing. Sora only remembered that fighting broke out, and while running with Shiro and Stephanie, he was knocked unconscious.
But… where's Shiro?!
Cause and effect clicked together. Panic filled his expression as the red-haired young man searched frantically, his chest tightening with suffocating dread, pale fear creeping up his body.
"Shiro…"
His whole body trembled uncontrollably, his face pale, teeth chattering as though he had lost the strength to move.
Until—
"…Nii…san…" A soft, pure, trembling girl's voice.
"Nii-san… Shiro is here."
And just like that, those words melted away his despair, as if it had never been.
Sora turned with joy, and as if their hearts were connected, the girl, waking from unconsciousness, staggered to her feet.
She was a girl in a dress, her name as true as herself—Shiro. Snow-white long hair slightly messy, crimson eyes under her bangs, a frail, delicate body.
"Sis!"
Almost collapsing to the ground in devotion, Sora lunged toward his sleepy sister, clutching her tightly in his arms. "Thank goodness, you're safe!"
"Nii-san…"
A deeply touching scene of sibling reunion—but no one paid it any mind.
The Elkian human residents, resettled here by the Empire's Public Security forces, only glanced briefly at the siblings before quickly turning their eyes toward the soldiers beyond the wire, watching with unease as Imperial troops passed by in pairs and squads, restless with fear.
The Imperial garrison stationed in Elkia's postwar security zone also noticed—these so-called humans were obedient to the extreme.
Tell them to go east, they wouldn't dare go west. After the abolition of the "Ten Covenants," facing the Empire's landing forces with iron warships and artillery, they didn't even entertain the thought of resisting.
But it didn't matter. For the Imperial troops garrisoned in Elkia, this actually made things easier—no need to pick out examples to execute as warnings.
They were Imanity, not humans—much less sacred citizens of the Sacred Selene Empire, basking in the radiance of the Divine Empress.
Fine. Everything would be handled according to regulations.
Unless there was a jailbreak or riot, nothing that happened in these reconstruction camps was worth their notice. Providing them with the most basic necessities of life was enough.
"Seizing the 'Elkia National Library' counts for more collective merit than occupying the entire kingdom of Elkia and capturing all these Imanity combined… Tch, truly a once-in-a-lifetime sight."
"Well, it is a library holding over a hundred million volumes—six thousand years of Imanity's accumulation."
"Nothing we can do about it. Elkia's entire population is only a few million. Our landing forces alone outnumber this tiny foreign kingdom."
"Not to mention, they have no police or army. As for proper weapons and military equipment, forget it. Beheading these Imanity civilians for kill-count merit would only get you cursed out by the military clerks. You'd be lucky if they didn't dock your score."
"Out of curiosity, I looked into Elkia's national system. Oh, my god—they don't even have tax police. I can't fathom how this country has managed to survive. Do they just rely on game rewards, plundering from those 'Unknowns'?"
The so-called 'Unknowns' referred to the races living in Disboard outside the sixteen sentient races that signed the Ten Covenants.
"Looks like the land in this world is just too fertile. Even with such wasted production, they've avoided famine? It's very suitable as an agricultural world."
"It could also serve as a resource world, a sightseeing world. Perhaps even a composite 'garden world.' If our administrators govern this world properly, maybe next time we can even bring our families here for vacation—with discounts."
"Heh, before I die, I want to rack up more merits. Enough to buy noble titles for my worthless brats back home, a few estates and farms, and stash away some savings… If I can do that, this life will have been worth it."
"Hah, dream on. Jobs this easy aren't common… But still, let's encourage each other."
"Hahaha… to the Empire, to the Empress!"
"To the Empire, to the Empress!"
Wearing standard bulletproof armor and carrying the Gauss electromagnetic rifles issued to their corps, pairs of auxilia soldiers lit cigarettes with their fingertips as they passed through the wire-fenced corridor.
"Orders from above say the Ex-Machina are an endangered race. Any unit that captures even one will be richly rewarded…"
"Ha, don't dream. Luck like that won't come our way. We're stuck in Elkia as security garrison troops…"
The orderly footsteps and voices faded into the distance.
The siblings couldn't understand the language.
Sora and Shiro exchanged glances.
After calming their emotions from reuniting, the siblings had already begun planning how to break out of their predicament.
Sora spoke: "It's not Japanese, not English, not Chinese either."
"'Ex-Machina'… 'Ex-Machina.' The pronunciation sounds very similar to Imanity's common tongue that Stephanie mentioned." Shiro judged.
"Tenth-ranked in the hierarchy, the Ex-Machina, huh?" The spiky red-haired youth didn't doubt it. Following his sister's reasoning, he nodded in thought.
He knew all too well Shiro's ability.
As a true genius, she had spent just one night in Elkia's royal study and mastered the language of Imanity. By analyzing the grammar and phonetics used by the Empire's auxiliaries, she was already able to infer their meaning.
In order to play games without worry and research background materials, he had self-taught six languages. His sister Shiro went even further—mastering eighteen modern and ancient languages.
"Double-headed eagles, Roman columns, wolves devouring the moon, peaked caps, military coats… Shiro, I have a bad guess."
"War?"
"Yeah."
Bang bang bang!
From another fenced area came a burst of gunfire. Like wheat being cut, people inside fell in rows. "Ah—" Shiro, startled, almost screamed, but Sora quickly covered her eyes and gently stroked her head.
At the same time, his gaze darkened toward where the gunfire had sounded. A mass execution…
If it were Shiro and me, what would I do?
The corpses looked like torn, filthy rags, no part intact. Clothes and flesh fused together by heat, exposing horrifying wounds.
"This is the price of stubbornness! The Empire's authority is unquestionable!"
"This is the Empire's mercy! You alien mongrels, since this is your first offense, the ringleaders will be executed as punishment. But if it happens again, the entire group will be slain!"
When the gunfire ceased and the officer left, only a slaughterhouse remained. It was then Sora realized—the executed weren't humans.
Without exception, their bodies bore animal features.
More importantly, this time the officer hadn't spoken Imperial Common, but instead used a small device to translate into Imanity's tongue. Sora heard it clearly—"Empire."
Clatter!
At that moment—"Sora, Shiro! Thank goodness you're safe!"
Creak—
The sound of a metal gate sliding. Flowing crimson wavy short hair, pale skin, a graceful figure, an outfit of royal English style—a short dress with a white cloak.
It was Stephanie Dola.
The girl, usually as warm and bright as a sunflower, now looked dejected. Tears welled in her emerald eyes.
"Stephanie, you…"
"Elkia is gone."
She spoke heavily: "Even the name of Imanity will be erased. The Empire has no plans to grant us citizenship…"
"Because you are not qualified. Rights and obligations are inseparable. And right now, you are not even capable of fulfilling the Empire's most basic obligations of labor."
"Only by rebuilding can you stand. Citizenship—depends on your future performance."
As she spoke, a female officer in the white uniform of the Valkyrie Corps patted Stephanie's shoulder, then stepped past her, cutting straight to the point.
"Sora, Shiro, correct? I need to confirm Commander Raven's instructions. First question—where did you get these items?"
Before her words had even finished, two smartphones, two handheld game consoles (DSP), two multipurpose spare batteries, two solar chargers, multifunction power cables, and a tablet were placed before the siblings by automatons.
She spoke in Japanese.
"You understood me."
Before they could reply, the Valkyrie had already caught the subtle change in their expressions. No matter how clever, raised in a time of peace, the pressure of death made their leakage obvious.
"Tokyo natives, then. Based on the inspection of these electronic devices, their residence before coming to Disboard was Tokyo. One of the phones still has shipping invoices recorded."
"Judgment: this world is a composite. Disboard is just one we've detected. Report filed and forwarded to Legion Commander Horus and Commander Raiden Mei. Briefing uploaded to the Military Affairs network."
Efficiently adjusting her stance, the Valkyrie extended an invitation to the siblings. "Out of courtesy, we did not soul-search you. But you are not Imanity, so staying in their temporary security zone is inappropriate."
"I can help you return to your original home—but I require your assistance."
Assistance? More like invasion!
Sora screamed silently in his mind.
But refusing…
Although he had long dreamed of experiencing such a dramatic reenactment, now was clearly not the time—because this time, refusal could really mean death!!
"This was only a matter of time. There is no such thing as luck."
As though she could see straight into their hearts, the Valkyrie officer pointed at the temporary camp built upon the scorched earth of the embassy district. "If it had been the Luna Wolves, the situation would have been a hundred times worse than Elkia."
"The final chance for a peaceful change of banner… Tell me, what is your choice?"
Threats and inducements—do we really have a choice?
"Nii…san…"
His sister's call pulled Sora into the depths of painful decision.
In his home world, their parents were already gone.
His sister, unaccepted by society.
And himself, unable to accept society.
Only within the screen did they have a place to stand—that world.
Reality itself was nothing but a rotten game!
He told himself this in his heart, biting his teeth hard to stop the trembling.
Slowly, he opened his mouth—
...
"Three million?"
In the vast cubic chamber of the Eighteen-Winged Council.
Before the holographic screen formed by the Spirit Corridor formulas, Selene reclined casually upon the throne once belonging to Artosh, the God of War, and turned her head slightly.
"Yes, Your Majesty. This is the preliminary population estimate of Imanity in the Kingdom of Elkia… Excluding those enslaved or scattered among elves, werebeasts, and dwarves, this is already the highest estimate."
Azril, the eldest of the Flügel and now the perfect personal secretary, wings faintly trembling, flipped quickly through records detailing Elkia's birth, rise, and fall.
"Less than four million?"
Far too few.
Even if all were slaughtered, it would make no difference.
The front-line strength of many auxiliary corps within the Empire alone exceeded the entire population of Imanity.
Around ten million total among the sentient races… Small in number, yes, but considering their exceptional quality, it hardly mattered.
Selene looked down. At the far end of the dense violet-red cubic space, countless dazzlingly beautiful figures stood, radiating an aura of despair—because they themselves were its embodiment, weapons made to slay gods.
With Selene's arrival, Avant Heim had been fully revived, brimming with vitality once more.
Yes, only the Old Deus and holders of the Suniaster were eternal. All others had lifespans. The Flügel's very existence was sustained by formulas, and without the God of War's maintenance, their systems would eventually fail.
Thus, many Flügel remained dormant, waking only in turns.
But now that Selene had come, the Flügel saw blue skies again.
Not only did they no longer need to worry about maintenance, but their sleeping sisters were awakened, those who had killed themselves at the end of the Great War were restored, and in time, new sisters would even be created!
"Over six hundred wings…"
This was the result of Azril's desperate preservation.
At the end of the Great War, the Ex-Machina seized the chance when the Flügel were weakened, slaughtering half their race.
With twenty-one linked units, over nine thousand machines combined to analyze Artosh's "Godly Smite." Along with the elves' "Áka Si Anse," the dwarves' "E-Bomb," and the Dragonia's "Far Cry," the weakened Flügel were devastated. Not even their remains could be preserved.
"But as the seed of a new beginning, it is enough."
Selene leaned back against the vast throne, shifting to a more comfortable pose, smiling at her own masterpiece.
Her snowy hair, soft and flowing in gentle waves, drifted without wind, framing fair skin and scarlet diamond-shaped eyes. Countless angels stood below the steps, making her appear like the goddess of a heavenly kingdom.
Sacred, untouchable. Beautiful beyond compare.
Yes, this was right. The Imperial Guard and the Sisters of Silence exuded majesty, but they lacked gentleness, far too suffused with killing intent.
Look at the Flügel—the perfect image of my mercy.
"Your Majesty, please…"
Like a personal maid, Jibril lifted a porcelain teacup in her white hands, little finger lifted elegantly. Her eyes shone with devotion that said, "You are all I see."
"If this Ex-Machina reincarnates as human, little Jibril, will you continue that unfinished battle? Will you take her head and present it to me?"
Selene rubbed Jibril's ahoge with one hand, while in the other she raised an ancient, worn ring that floated quietly between her fingers. From its style, it appeared to be a woman's wedding band.
"Mm, Your Majesty's will is Jibril's will…"
At those words, Jibril's lashes fluttered. She leaned against the throne's armrest like a small beast awaiting affection, eyes shimmering with watery brilliance.
Until—"Queen! I'm here!"
"Hehe, Alyssa has good news… ahhhhhhh—!"
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