Chapter 70 Too Late a Decision
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Priority people.
Which one should come first? Trash-san, who trudged through dungeons with me and pulled me back from death? Or Kaede-san, who fusses over me like a doting grandmother?
It’s useless. Since coming to this world, the list of people who matter to me has swelled until I can’t move. Because everyone cares for me so fiercely, I’m paralyzed.
No matter how much this world has a gender ratio, I came from a one-to-one world.
”I can die. There are endless women out there. It’s fine to abandon them. My Imperial Guards are the only thing that truly matters. I know that. But—”
A dull ache settled in my chest.
Reality, though, didn’t give me the luxury of arguing with my heart.
”Heh. Uheh….”
”Natsume-san?” someone said.
Natsume-san laughed through her teeth, staring off into a far distance with that brittle, forced sound.
Then she suddenly slumped. Something tumbled from the trees and struck the trunk before thudding into the ground. A pale, narrow object hit bark and sank into the sod.
On the damp, reddish-black earth lay the gun that had been in her hand.
Everyone there understood what had happened without needing an explanation. Still, Trash-san offered no slack when it came to confirming the facts.
”Natsume-dono, the two of you—?”
”U, ugh… uuu… Kiri-chan, ugh, u— Kiri-chan—” she choked, and then she kept crying without words.
Trash-san and Flatty-chan hauled her down from the branches. They glanced out toward the distance, then, instead of clinging to a precarious limb, climbed a nearby high rock and, in shift rotation, began to pick off threats.
”Young Master—”
”W-what is it? What happened to Kiri-san?”
My chest felt packed with mud. I already knew the answer.
Think of the scene: a powerful psionic user bearing down on them with murderous intent, Kiri-san disarmed and missing a hand, fighting to hold on. Bleeding out; no strength left to run.
I was no fool about how that would end.
Yet Trash-san spoke to me in a quiet voice.
”Rest easy and watch. The women who serve Your Lordship will not fail you.”
I stared at her in silence. Under the cracked visor her face was smeared with blood and mud. Her scarred, sunburned skin had no uninjured place left.
Trash-san wore the familiar, steadier smile I knew — the smile that reassured.
”Young Master.”
”Y-yes…”
”Do you love Kaede-dono?”
She asked it plainly, as if measuring me. I nodded like a broken puppet, my neck moving the way a snapped doll’s would.
That small confirmation seemed to steel something in her. Immediately she offered her gun to Flatty-chan.
”Flatty. Synthesize as many photon rifles and high-pressure grenades as you can.”
Flatty-chan hesitated, bewildered at the cargo and the weapon pressed into her hands.
”Uh, we’re using that? But that thing’s a failure—”
”I don’t care. I can tolerate some pain.”
Reluctantly, Flatty-chan took what was given.
”It’s not ‘some’ pain. It leaks, it overpowers — it was the worst combo. Maggot even got mad when we charged it to expenses… Well, if you say so, fine.”
The white barrel gleamed in her hands. Muttering, she combined the photon rifle and the electrically discharging grenades; they flared and fused into a single, uncanny device.
The psionic energy Flatty-chan used to craft the mystical object left her almost collapsing where she stood. Her hand that handed the weapon over was crooked and trembled — a painful sight.
”Also synth two charging packs.”
”The aurora gun takes two charges. Okay, okay. You only get one shot. Two and you’ll electrocuted to death.”
”Yeah. I know.”
Flatty-chan folded two charging capsules into one in her palm.
”Trash, Flatty doesn’t mind if you die, but Young Master would be sad, so stop it.”
”I know. You’re always two words too many.”
”Shut up. If a second shot’s needed, I’ll fire it.”
”I appreciate it.”
Flatty-chan could synth not just weapons but fuel as well. Her psionic adaptability was astonishing.
”…Hah. I’m exhausted. I can’t move.”
She joked, but when Flatty-chan finished the fusion, she slid down the rock and leaned back against a boulder, breathing hard. The effort had taken a lot out of her.
Trash-san’s hands held a white, lightning-rod slender rifle.
The barrel stretched nearly two meters. Around where a revolver’s cylinder would be there was a large, flat circular mechanism — fixed, not rotating.
When activated, a deployment of long metal needles would spear outward into the surroundings.
There was no trigger.
There was no slot for a charging capsule.
Was it even a gun? It was an utterly unknown weapon.
”Young Master. As it stands, we will support Kaede-dono’s retreat. In exchange, most of our infiltration equipment has been consumed…”
”The enemy noticed us because of me,” I said.
Kaede-san was probably being chased by that demon-woman. If she kept fighting, more enemies would pour in.
I made another selfish plea.
”But please. Don’t die. And bring her back. Bring everyone back.”
That was enough. I’d have them drag her back if they had to.
She was risking her life to dispel my worry. It would sully that decision to stop her now — besides, we’d scored some gains and perhaps that would be enough to open a path to ceasefire.
We tried. We failed.
That was the present.
Somewhere I’d underestimated things. I hadn’t imagined a psionic so strong. I’d slipped into the belief that everything would go right, assuming luck would hold.
I had not grasped the brutality of real killing: the battlefield where multiple people mix, where lives and cold calculation collide.
And then, pressed to the edge, I discovered something: I am not adult enough to watch someone die and remain calm.
Still, Trash-san had told me that night to trust her—to ask for what I wanted, even if it was selfish.
Trash-san lay back on the high boulder, holding that needle-like rifle as if she were propping up a sleeping child — only she aimed it like a prone sniper, cocked and ready.
She was positioned to fire down from the height, to pour lead into the shooting zone below.
”You mourn, and mourning is natural when you are in such a mood,” she said, lightly.
”Because Kiri-san—”
”She fulfilled her duty to obey her master. I would not have you think that is a sad thing.”
Trash-san said it plainly, as if it were the most ordinary fact. The words tightened something in my throat until I could not speak.
Hearing it aloud made it harder than any nameless ache. Kiri-san was dead. Killed by that psionic. But the weight of that fact hadn’t yet settled inside me.
Maybe later I’d cry. Maybe later I’d beat myself up. But not now.
”I can’t feel that way yet,” I said.
People kept dying. One after another.
Each loss made my chest heavier.
I couldn’t. Pointing fingers or picking apart blame felt useless. If I had to name one cause, it was only this: those girls weren’t the kind of psionic fighters fit for the field. Flying power, super speed — anything that would have helped. Instead they had powers that didn’t matter in a fight. They were weak, and so they died.
And they would not return. Time would smooth the edges and they’d be logged down as another fallen soldier. Forgotten.
”Why… damn it,” I muttered.
Nobody cared, the world said, or rather, they wanted me to praise them. Deep down, females here offered their lives to men without resistance. Trash-san did. She truly believed that.
If she died, I knew I would curse myself. But nobody wanted my curses.
”Pointless death, aren’t they? I doubt Ichimatsu will mourn her or speak of her with pride,” I said, bitterness tasting metallic.
Kiri-san had probably joined Kaede-san willingly, even without orders.
”This was for my strategy. I haven’t accomplished anything yet,” I added.
”Would you not take pride in Kiri-dono? She did not win your favor in life, but she has your farewell,” Trash-san replied.
There was a crackle. Her hair began to stand on end.
The rifle started to draw electricity from its synthesized charging pack on its own.
”I don’t see how me feeling sad helps. The dead won’t know,” I said.
”There are few who can die and be thought of as you imagine. At least for me, being mourned is my salvation. A presumptuous thing to say, but that is what being female is like.” Her voice was steady, oddly serene.
Static pricked my skin.
Visible sparks began to leak from the gun. Thin purple arcs lanced into Trash-san’s body, making her twitch in small seizures. She held it down forcefully.
”And I already know you are not the sort to lavish praise upon devotion,” she went on.
”…That’s true,” I breathed.
”Then watch over us. I will not demand grand declarations of admiration. Your watching is the greatest happiness.”
Not yet. Kaede-san’s name did not have a strike through it. She was alive. If so, I had to keep looking at her. I had to fly to her and tell her what had happened. Only I could.
Her words steadied me a little.
I closed my eyes again and drew a deep breath, like someone about to step off a cliff.
”If it comes to it, abandon Kaede-san and Natsume-san—run with Flatty-chan,” I said.
Trash-san, adjusting her aim, sounded a touch surprised—she knew me well enough to be taken aback.
”Young Master…”
”My Imperial Guards come first. We can argue with Ichimatsu later. No more indulgent optimism.”
When she judged everyone’s escape impossible, she should cut losses. Prioritizing my feelings and getting everyone killed would be the worst outcome.
My mouth was dry.
”If only one of two can be saved—Trash-san or Flatty-chan—which do you save?” I asked.
I thought it through. Would that situation ever come? It might. We were inside an enemy town’s dungeon, hunted by a powerful psionic, and our location was already signaled to the townsfolk by fires.
Splitting into two teams might not even work; the situation was that severe.
”Young Master, that is—” Trash-san hesitated to say it aloud. But I was their master; however painful, I had to choose.
Dizzy, I forced the words out. I had asked the impossible: save everyone. I wanted to trust their power, but trust alone without planning for failure was foolish.
”No—let me speak. Trash-san should escape. Trash-san is more important. For the economic future of the Imperial Guards, and… other reasons.”
My voice came out as staccato as a dead fish. “Personally… yes. At worst, have at least one of you come back.”
”…Understood,” Flatty-chan said.
Flatty-chan was goofy and charming and adored me. I cared for her and I liked her. Yet I swallowed the cowardly order. Somehow, I managed it. My chest ached again.
When Trash-san fired, the shot was clean.
It was beautiful. A column of light—not green, not red—wavered like a mirage. An aurora bloomed along the bullet’s path, wrapping the white projectile in a glowing sheath.
It was not a trick or an optical illusion; it was the same phenomenon as polar auroras, condensed into a path of fire.
Maybe the air was ionizing. This was not a railgun; nothing like a magnetic launch of metal. The method was unknown, but somehow extreme electrical energy was being solidified and launched by a mysterious force.
Everything in the bullet’s path disintegrated, unable to withstand the violent oscillation of electrons.
Matter touched by the shot liquefied, then vaporized and vanished into ionized mist.
The wound it carved wasn’t just a line—it pierced boulders, trees, and even the terrain itself, a single clean trajectory gouged through the world.
From afar, it looked as if a piece of space itself had been erased, a scar cut out of reality.
It was a weapon designed for low-density atmospheres, for vacuum combat. Something meant for space.
Maybe, on the Earth I came from, it would only exist a hundred years later—when humans fought wars among the stars.
It ignored wind and gravity alike.
In theory, you could snipe from Earth and hit the Moon.
It was the same principle as the rifles mounted on nuclear-reactor mechs from those ancient sci-fi wars.
”Trash-san…”
”Ugh—ahh—”
At the moment of firing, the needle-rifle released an avalanche of current.
Electricity surged outward, centered on her body. Her whole frame convulsed violently.
An ordinary person would’ve died instantly.
It was a one-way weapon—designed to kill the target and the shooter in the same strike.
Even as a psionic, Trash-san was paralyzed after a single shot.
I switched my focus back to Kaede-san.
From this sniping point, I couldn’t see her directly.
But I could reach her anytime.
And so, I let my consciousness leap forward.
——
”Oh my, you’ve come again?”
As always, the instant I appeared, Kaede-san caught me against her chest.
I was carried in her arms while she ran, her stride unbroken.
Only seconds had passed since I’d jumped—carried by that aurora bridge of light.
”My apologies for the dreadful sight earlier,” she said, her voice almost playful.
”W-wait—Kaede-san?”
”When I do this, he tends to get angry and chase me, you see. I imagine a young Imperial Guard would find this behavior… offensive.”
I froze.
Resting on her neck—was another woman’s head.
Its vacant eyes stared at the sky. The face was collapsing, half-melted. The mouth hung open, lips pale.
It was the head of the flying psionic she’d killed moments ago.
Completely lifeless.
”Why… why are you wearing someone else’s head!?”
”Oh, I’m only carrying it here. Forgive the frightful appearance.”
”Carrying—? You’re carrying a head! Why!?”
Kaede-san’s real face was in her hand, speaking with me.
Her wrist turned, tilting the severed visage toward me as she alternated between glancing ahead and behind.
”You’re… still acting as bait?”
”Kiri bought me some time. I did something awful with it, but I made use of the chance.”
”I—see…”
”The pursuer was kind enough to tend to this one’s body,” she added, smiling faintly.
So that was it.
She’d used the corpse as bait to lure the demon woman, and after the enemy had discarded the decoy, Kaede-san had reclaimed it to use again.
Which meant she’d doubled back across the plains just to set it up.
”I could not entrust her remains to the artisans, so… forgive the cruelty, but she’s helping me as my decoy now.”
”Kaede-san… all our splitting up—it’s for nothing now.”
”Yes, yes, that happens sometimes,” she said gently, as if soothing me.
Her tone was tender, encouraging.
Because of the support fire, our position was obvious, but the demon woman wasn’t moving toward us.
Kaede-san was drawing her farther and farther away.
Even so, survival was a miracle balanced on a thread of ice.
”Where is she?” I shouted.
”She’s furious. There—just behind. She burns like a torch.”
I looked back.
The blue demon woman was charging after us, her thigh torn open by a fifteen-centimeter hole.
Trash-san’s shot.
She had aimed to miss—deliberately.
From my report, Trash-san had concluded the psionic’s power was resurrection, not regeneration.
A headshot might have killed her. The red demon, then the blue—perhaps another death would end it. But she chose caution instead, crippling the target’s mobility.
Flatty-chan stood ready to fire the second round if needed.
The bullet had pierced steel-like skin as if it were paper. Blue blood gushed, the same hue as her flesh.
Trash-san’s marksmanship had been perfect.
”Over here! I’m here!” Kaede-san shouted.
She turned, her “face” still that of the dead girl she had killed.
”Wait! I’ll kill you! I’ll tear you apart! I’ll kill you!”
It was almost like a child’s game of tag—except one side was a monster.
The demon woman, blinded by rage, ran on, ignoring her wound, a storm of hate.
”You dare desecrate my friend’s body!? You monster! Give it back! GIVE HER HEAD BACK!”
Her fury cracked into grief. Tears burned under the rage. She was young, powerful, and falling apart as she ran.
I asked Kaede-san, “She’s furious. What did you do?”
”She nearly caught me, but fortune favored me. I found this head and used it. Her shock gave me the moment I needed to strike.”
”You attacked her while wearing her friend’s face…”
For a heartbeat, even I felt cold.
It was a tactic that trampled on human emotion—but the Ichimatsu Imperial Guards were trained to act without hesitation.
”Ah—wait. I’m interfering. I’ll leave soon. I came because we’ve decided to withdraw. Let’s go back. Natsume-san can’t continue the plan.”
Kiri-san… yes.
She was gone.
I clenched my fist until my nails bit into my palm, but the pain only deepened. Hurting myself changed nothing.
Kaede-san didn’t seem to care about that news. She only looked at me with warmth and relief.
”Yes, yes… you’ve come. Truly, I thought I’d never see you again before I died.”
”Kaede-san…”
”There’s nothing at all wrong with Your Lordship interfering,” Kaede-san said softly. “If anyone’s guilty of intrusion, it’s this thing. I’ve troubled you with something unpleasant, haven’t I? Let’s dispose of it. There!”
She tore the severed girl’s head from her neck and hurled it into a swamp of poison.
The head sank, swallowed by the murky sludge.
Then she fitted her own head back onto her shoulders with eerie calm.
”Aaaah! Saki’s head—her head— it’s sinking!”
The blue demon woman screamed, her voice ragged with grief. Maybe they had been friends once, from the same town.
For a heartbeat she wavered—if she let it sink, it would be lost forever, devoured by the swamp creatures.
But she pushed through her tears and kept chasing.
”I’ll kill you… you filthy women! I’ll kill you all!”
Her face blazed again, fury igniting her like oil. Even with her lower body drenched in her own blood, she surged faster.
”You just threw it away?!” I shouted.
”She served her town and her people well,” Kaede-san said, voice calm and cruel. “But now she is unnecessary.”
She adjusted her grip on me, murmuring, “There, more room now,” and cradled me securely again.
Her pace quickened. I held tight, careful to stay low against her body, so no one watching from afar—the snipers still firing support rounds—would see me.
We were moving fast.
Even wounded, even with that shattered leg, Kaede-san matched the demon’s speed.
It was impossible, a mystery—she was running on a leg that should not even move, yet somehow she found balance and speed, like an old deer treading the safest ground through memory alone.
”Stop running farther away! Let’s regroup and go home,” I pleaded.
”I have not yet fulfilled my duty,” she said, her breath steady.
She hadn’t given up.
”Kaede-san, you’ve lost your gun. How do you plan to fight with only a sword?”
”Perhaps… but this hatred won’t fade. Unless she kills me or receives orders from her town’s main family, she won’t stop.”
That demon was almost certainly from Isumi Town.
In such a small place, the will of a war hero could shape an entire campaign. With hatred that deep, could any negotiation with Kujukuri Town ever succeed?
Kaede-san looked as though she wouldn’t mind if her death ended the war entirely.
She had already taken down two psionics and pinned the demon inside this dungeon.
”Let’s go home. The others agree. You don’t have to die too. Even Natsume-san would be heartbroken.”
”With Kiri gone, our burden is lighter,” she replied.
Was that what people called will—or duty?
I valued that, yes. But not enough to throw a life away for it.
”Fine. I’ll be your cargo then. I’ll be the place you return to. When we get back, come to me. You’re always nearly dying out here—so if you’ve got no other purpose left, work for me instead.”
I was always one step from death. I needed strong allies, no matter the cost or trouble.
Transfer, employment—whatever it took, we’d manage it somehow.
She looked startled. Then, after a moment of thought, she said quietly, “Even now, you remain bound by attachment to a male’s will. Very well, I will abide by Your Lordship’s desire.”
The balance tipped.
Her expression was hard to read, but there was bitterness in it. Because now, Kiri-san’s death had truly become meaningless.
We had no equipment left.
Everything but Natsume-san’s and Flatty-chan’s weapons had been consumed in synthesis.
Just a few grenades, some water, and scraps of food remained. Whether we could even cross the alien ship’s third layer and reach town was uncertain.
But thanks to my desperate plea, Kaede-san turned her route.
For a few minutes, all went well.
She deliberately took rough terrain that punished her legs, forcing the demon to burn stamina.
Kaede-san’s experience on the untamed Kazusa mountain paths guided her feet like instinct—finding the stones that wouldn’t break her knees.
While I scrolled my mental link list to contact the others, I saw it—behind us, the blue demon staggering, slowing down, her pace faltering.
She’d been muttering curses all along, but now her voice came thin and cold:
”Haah… damn it… I’m done. I can’t… run anymore.”
Finally, she stopped.
Blood no longer flowed from her wound. Her knees trembled, empty of strength.
A chance. The monster had finally exhausted herself.
”Kaede-san, she stopped! We can lose her now!”
”Yes, yes. Let’s do that,” Kaede-san said softly.
We kept our pace, sprinting toward the direction of Trash-san’s last volley.
The enemy shrank to a tiny dot behind us.
Then something strange caught my eye.
Far away, the demon woman grabbed her own horns and jaw.
She closed her eyes, tense, and with a violent twist—snapped her own neck.
A sickening crack.
Her blue face twitched, foamed—and fell.
From the corpse’s back, blood pooled and rose like spring water.
Out of it, a human arm began to grow.
Clawed fingers scraped at the air, then plunged into the ground. The other arm burst through the split back, pulling its upper body free.
A green-skinned demon woman, drenched in blood, stood up.
Same face. Same shape. Horns glinting on her brow.
Just like when the blue one appeared—only now healed, whole again. The wound was gone.
”What… that’s impossible. Psionic Power isn’t limitless!”
Could it be? Each death only spawned another resurrection—without end? Such madness shouldn’t exist.
”….”
From the distance, I saw her lips move.
She whispered something, exhaling a mist of green miasma—then started to run again, fast as before, as if reborn.
Notes:
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Natsume – A female companion and younger sister of Kaede-san, cared for by Kaede-san during their journey through the dangerous valley, at risk of infection from the parasitic creatures.
• Kiri – A female sniper and member of Kaede-san’s team, white-haired with sleepy eyes, wielding a disguised sniper rifle, known for her quick hands and slow speech, often joking in dire situations.
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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