The frontline base of Bayonet Squadron was built upon a miniature airport hangar, abandoned soon after the war against the “Legion” began.

It was probably used to store passenger planes, and within this hangar with a tall, vast ceiling, the unbefitting “Juggernauts” nestled upon the floor.The silver wings that were once here were taken back into the 85 administrative zones, and might have been sent to the recycling plants for “Juggernaut” productions. In any case, they were no longer present.

As the “Legion” had seized air space, any planes could only be used as carriers from the rearlines, within the walls. It was said there were a few fools who ventured the battlefield for the thrill, but Saiki knew not of their fates.

He parked his “Juggernaut” at his spot, opened the canopy, and let out a sigh. The deck was locked all over, and sans the screens on three sides it was completely dark. Saiki never grew much during puberty, and instead became a lanky one, so this space might be pretty tight for adult males who were deemed as processors to begin with.

Compared to him, who was in the “Juggernaut” cockpit all the time, it was impossible to stuff the chief mechanic’s body in. He was a towering dwarf, overly burly.

Ah, so Saiki blinked. There was a “Juggernaut” completely with dents, standing before the chief mechanic, at the shutters of the hanger, the last of the squadron to return.

It was the “Juggernaut” belonging to the squadron leader, Shin’s.

“Shin…seriously. I beg of you, pilot carefully. It’s always an impressive wreck all over every single time. Can’t you spare a thought for us here?”

“I’ll try my best, Chief Mechanic.”

“Goodness…don’t be reckless.”

The Chief Mechanic let out a deep sigh from his thickly bearded mouth, and Shin descended behind him.

The hard soles of the boots made no noise upon the hard concrete. It was as though they were fighting the “Legion” once again.

The bloody red eyes scanned the old hangar burned by the sun and ash. The “Juggernauts” were parked side by side, the Processors and the mechanic crew surrounding them. Their eyes looked cold, unfocused.

Contrary to his peerless combat ability, his appearance was unbelievably youthful, one of the youths amongst the Processors in the Squadron. He was 2, 3 years younger than the 15 year old Saiki.

But despite that, nobody in Bayonet Squadron dared to bully him. Or rather, every single person feared and respected him.

In fact, Shin was truly terrifying.

His expression remained serene, his thoughts full of clarity, his battles utterly ferocious, and he had lived through countless battles. Through the many battles, he was forged as a sharp blade.

He had battle experience exceeding a year, and was the leader of his previous squadron.

Ultimately, everyone in the Squadron were killed in battle, except for him, back when the “Legion” destroyed the frontline bases. The “Legion” had been advancing its lines, building fortifications and bases. Naturally, the forces surrounding those places were beefed significantly.

The “Juggernauts” were deployed in response to the forward bases, and were heavily damaged. Looking at the size of that base, it appeared four full squadrons, let alone one, would have been completely wiped out there and then.

Shin was the only one who returned, but that might be a decent outcome.

And that was what made him terrifying.

He walked down the hangar silently, and nobody else greeted him. Even the Processors and the frivolously chatting mechanics went silent. They were like fletchlings looking up at a king hawk roaming the skies.

He was one with a nickname, a monster who survived more than a year on this battlefield most died upon.

He was ‘somewhat’ different from them.

Shin never looked over at them.

He probably sensed that he was feared and shunned, and thus, he kept his distance from Saiki and the other Processors. Both of them drew a line, and never crossed it.

But did he too feel lonely?

Perhaps he had something to say, but decided not to, and shut up.

For they did not know what to say to him.

Shin glanced aside at Saiki, probably sensing that the latter was looking at him. The emotionless looking eyes scanned Saiki’s brown eyes, and then seemingly peered aside as though nothing happened.

They were full of intensity, and also serenity.

Nobody had seen him remove the sky blue scarf around his neck. Nobody knew what was hidden beneath.

Pertaining to that, someone spoke up.

And everyone else then exchanged jokes. All traces of fear, admiration, and tinge of sadness were hidden at that moment.

“Maybe he lost his head to begin with. Just hiding it.”

He wandered the battlefield, seeking his lost head.

The headless white skeleton was piloting a multi-legged weapon resembling a horse, and following him was the Scavenger feasting upon his comrades’ remains.

He was the God belonging only to the Eighty-Sixes, the one most feared and admired to them, who were doomed to die on the battlefield.

The headless Death God on the Eastern Battlefront.

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