The Aftermath: December 2, 2032
The image of that girl's head, rolling to a stop at my feet, is a phantom limb on my soul. Her spirit seems to linger, refusing peace, as the memory replays endlessly. I was paralyzed then, watching the GOC unleash a brutal, total war on the Rebel camp. I haven't slept peacefully since. It's December 1st, 2032, and the head rolling onto my boot tips is still the last thing I see before my eyes snap open.
Another memory, equally fresh, still turns my stomach: a GOC soldier casually grasping an infant, throwing it hard onto the ground. When the officer who had demanded silence approached, the soldier simply stated, "It's quiet now, sir."
I puke every time that scene surfaces.
After the GOC 7th Army departed, leaving my fireteam and me alone, I approached the tiny body. My hands trembling, I checked for a pulse. The baby was cold as ice. Lucas came up behind me, his voice heavy with apology. "There was nothing you could do. We should bury the child somewhere better, maybe alongside its parents. It's the least we can offer." I nodded and carried the body away.
Under the cover of a lone tree, I began to dig. The injustice of it—a life so brief, so brutally ended—made me sick. Digging deep enough, I carefully lowered the infant into the earth and slowly covered it with soil. I struggled to recall the last time I'd witnessed such horror, and I swore to myself I would never see it again. This wasn't war; it was vile. After closing the grave, I offered the baby a salute before heading back to the chopper.
It is 2:45 AM on December 2nd, and I still cannot sleep. I've been awake since 11:24 PM. God, I hate this fear. The last time I felt this overwhelming terror was the day I heard about my parents' deaths. I despise myself for this cowardice.
I sat on my bed, trying to steady my emotions, and noticed the dormitory was empty. Everyone must have gone to the 24-hour tavern for a drink—not that I'm much of a drinker myself.
Standing up to stretch, I left the room. The hallway was cold, silent—precisely the environment I needed to quiet the fear threatening to explode inside me. I headed for the park, seeking the wind on the bench that usually calms me. But as I arrived, I saw someone there: an unknown figure, reading, someone I had never seen on the base before.
Seeing my usual seat taken, I turned to leave.
"You, the one who's walking away," a voice called out. "You look like you need company, or perhaps someone to talk to about whatever is weighing on you."
Confused, I paused, pointing to myself. The person nodded. I walked up and stood before them, and their gaze signed for me to take the seat beside them. Reluctantly, I sat.
"You can call me Matthew," they introduced themselves immediately. "I'm the lead scientist here. I don't recognize you. Are you new, or have we met?"
"I was a new recruit," I replied, trying to sound convincing. "But I was immediately deployed for Operation Black Saturday. So, technically, no, we haven't met."
Matthew's eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion, but he let it pass. "What's your name, then? Maybe we can get along."
"My name is Han-Min. Nice to meet you."
Matthew stood up, facing the brilliant full moon. "What is your assessment of this war?"
"It's a global conflict masquerading as something else," I answered, looking up at him. "It's essentially World War III, but fought by representatives of various sectors, not the original nation-states."
He pulled out his phone, still gazing at the sky. "And why are you so certain this qualifies as a World War III?"
"May I speak freely, or are there restrictions?"
"You have my authorization. I won't silence anyone."
"Given the scale—the sheer number of borders we are fighting across and the casualties on both sides—yes, this is a World War," I stated with calculated certainty.
Matthew clicked something on his phone, then looked past me. "I see. That's a compelling perspective. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to. I hope we cross paths again. Farewell." He immediately departed, leaving me alone in the park. My watch read 3:45 AM. I still couldn't sleep, and I felt a looming premonition—something immense, something that would shatter the GOC's power in this region, was about to happen.
December 3, 2032. At the HFC Conference in Beijing, the leaders of the Hunter Foundation Cooperations (HFC) gathered with the presidents of ROKU (Republic of Korea United), the Republic of Nihon, and the Socialist Chinese Republic United.
HFC President Takumi Miyabushi opened the conference: "This sudden convocation is a direct consequence of the GOC's actions in the ROKU Northern region and their countless other acts we can no longer ignore."
ROKU President Seung-tae took the microphone: "We cannot overlook the rampant kidnappings tied to the GOC's illegal research, actions that violate the Contract of 2000. This has shattered countless lives and families, and the explosion of the GOC research base demands severe punishment. I, President Seung-tae, condemn these actions, and we will no longer accept meaningless apologies."
Next, Nihon Prime Minister Fumimaro Takashi spoke: "Given the direct consequences of these violations, war has become inevitable. The GOC has disregarded our agreements and regulations. I have decided that we will cease all trade with the GOC immediately."
Finally, the Secretary General of the SCRU, Wang Wei, approached the stage: "We will not tolerate any more kidnapping cases related to illegal, extra-jurisdictional experiments. I have made a decision for my country and my people's future."
President Miyabushi returned to the mic: "With this overwhelming evidence, all of us hereby Declare War on the GOC. All GOC assets, bases, and research facilities will be seized. We will not entertain a peace conference until the GOC unconditionally surrenders. The Liberation of Asia begins now. We will accomplish this mission for the people and make the GOC regret their violation of our foundational agreements."
The crowds erupted in patriotic cheers. Backstage, three figures stood smoking, exchanging glances. "I suppose we can commence the operation now, Nagata?"
"Yes, Miyamoto. Our strike force is ready. This is exactly what we wanted from the beginning—we'll be getting new territory soon." They chuckled and quickly departed.
With the HFC's declaration, the GOC found itself facing a formidable new enemy from East Asia.
To be continued