SWNOVELXO Side Story 12
Side Story 12. Sacrifice
In a corner of the ruined city. Half-collapsed, with piles of rubble and only the outer walls remaining, several vehicles were parked inside a crumbling building as if hiding.
One command vehicle, 20 meters long and heavily armored. One jeep, and four trucks. Around them, ten fully armed soldiers stood guard, vigilant.
The trucks had plain silver bodies with no decorations. Their containers were opened sideways, fully deployed. Inside the containers were vertical capsules large enough to hold people, filled with liquid—inside floated humans wearing respirators.
Their ages and genders varied, with no consistency. The only commonality was the black crystals embedded in their chests, with mechanical frameworks spreading through their bodies like creeping skeletal structures.
An eerie sight. Anyone who saw this would undoubtedly say it looked like some kind of vile experiment. The soldiers understood this too, keeping their distance and avoiding getting too close.
Inside the command vehicle, those watching monitored the scene with cold, ruthless eyes.
The Type-19 Command Vehicle Kisora. An armored car manufactured as a mobile command center for anti-monster warfare. Built to the absolute limit of operational size, its roof was equipped with a large-caliber machine gun capable of easily gunning down Goblin Knights.
The interior was a spacious operations room, dimly lit with 3D monitors and computer terminals as wide as tables. Several operators worked at their respective terminals.
“Subjects 1 through 20. Vital signs normal, no issues.”
“Mana infusion at 90%. 15 minutes remaining until activation.”
“…Subjects 3 and 7, abnormal vitals! They’re dead.”
The operators reported various data displayed on the monitors. Several faces appeared on-screen, some turning red with the label DEAD.
A thin, bespectacled young man with a nervous demeanor received these reports.
“Two deaths out of twenty? Well, that’s acceptable, isn’t it?”
The man, appearing to be in his late twenties, wore a Type-25 combat suit, though his frail, spindly frame made it seem ill-fitting. Despite the deaths, he remained indifferent, speaking matter-of-factly.
His face, illuminated by the monitors in the dim room, bore a cold expression.
“I agree with Deputy Director Mori. This is within acceptable margins.”
Beside him, an albino girl gave a faint smile and nodded. Her silver hair swayed ethereally, and her ruby-red eyes gleamed beautifully. This peerless beauty was Kamishiro Serika. Her stunning face, lit by the monitors in the darkness, carried an almost eerie allure.
“If Serika says so, then there’s no issue. Proceed with activation.”
The man referred to as Deputy Director Mori adjusted his glasses with a nervous air before issuing orders.
“Then we shall commence Operation Dancing Mail. Activate them.”
“Understood. Injecting mana potions.”
“Mana at 100%. Initiating activation.”
The operators worked their terminals, and as instructed, the liquid drained from the capsules attached to the trucks. Swallowing nervously, they watched as the capsules opened.
The freed subjects stumbled out, their respirators detaching. Then, a tar-like liquid gushed from the black crystals embedded in their chests, engulfing their bodies.
“Ooh!”
Deputy Director Mori clung to the monitor, leaning forward in fascination. The tar-like substance swelled, completely covering their bodies before condensing into sinister full-body black armor. The others emerging from the capsules underwent the same transformation.
“Can they follow orders?”
“Yes, Deputy Director. They are currently being instructed to assemble in formation.”
The black knights lined up as ordered, prompting an excited response from Mori.
“Magnificent. Can they withstand rifle fire?”
“Not quite. That’s a challenge for later. But they should be capable of defeating a Goblin King at least.”
Serika, observing the monitors, responded with a beautiful smile. Mori clicked his tongue but reconsidered—even this performance was groundbreaking. A grin spread across his face.
“If we can elevate ordinary people to this level, there’s no issue. This secures my position as director of the Nerima Research Institute.”
The man was the deputy director of the prestigious Nerima Research Institute, where geniuses gathered. Hungry for achievements to claim the director’s seat, his name was Mori Terumoto—a man from a wealthy, influential family, obsessed with attaining a status befitting himself.
“Congratulations. I’m proud as well. I’m thrilled our joint project has come to fruition. Our reputations are now solidified, aren’t they? Budgets will flow freely now.”
Clapping her hands together, Serika showered him with praise, but Mori responded with a cold glare.
“Joint? Don’t be absurd. You’re set to become the lone director of a new institute in Asakusa, aren’t you? This was a Nerima Research Institute project for years. You’re no longer involved.”
“…This was my three-year research project, wasn’t it?”
Serika fixed him with an icy stare, her words probing. But Mori merely snorted, unfazed.
“Unfortunate, isn’t it? Your research materials were confiscated before they could be transferred elsewhere. Do you understand what that means?”
“My contributions are being erased?”
“Exactly. The artificial monster project—using black crystals to infuse tainted mana. With Skill Level 3, they can defeat a Goblin King. Unlimited access to skill-up and status potions. Did you really think history would record this under the name of some lower-class nobody? Seems you’re only good at research, not thinking ahead.”
Mori sneered down at her. Serika shrugged, and seeing her resignation, he laughed mockingly.
“Well, I’ll keep providing funds and personnel as before. Just keep gifting me your research. You’re beautiful—maybe I’ll even marry you next year. That’d make your sacrifices worthwhile.”
Mori, confident in his family’s prestige and his own competence, assumed she’d gladly accept. After all, Kamishiro Serika was lower-class—climbing up required allying with nobility.
“Is that so? Then I suppose there’s no issue. I shouldn’t stay here, should I? May I leave? If a genius like me lingers, people might start wondering who really spearheaded this project.”
Her words insinuated that she was the true talent. Mori’s anger flared, but he suppressed it, waving her off.
“That sharp tongue will make you enemies. Get out.”
“Understood. Then, excuse me. Sorry, but could you move aside?”
Weaving past the pale-faced men, Serika bowed slightly before leaving.
“Well then, Deputy Director. Next time we meet, will you be the director? I hope so. Best of luck.”
Her parting words grated on him. Clicking his tongue, Mori muttered.
“Gorgeous face, but what an insolent girl… Well, fine. She’s still useful.”
He had taken credit for Serika’s research multiple times. In exchange for petty funds, he’d climbed to deputy director—and since she never protested, he assumed she knew her place.
“Ah, Mori-sama. Thank you for your assistance this time.”
Several men in the operations room approached, rubbing their hands together. These were Amako and the others—powder merchant with some influence. They’d reluctantly followed Mori into the abandoned town, fearing to refuse an inner city elite.
“Ah, you provided the test subjects. I appreciate it. If I handled it myself, someone might’ve gained leverage over me.”
“Not at all! We’re honored to assist. We’d be delighted to continue our partnership.”
Amako groveled, thrilled at their new connection to the inner city. But Mori gave them a blank stare, signaling with his eyes.
Pshh— A series of silenced gunshots rang out.
“Gah! Wh-What the—?!”
Amako and the others collapsed, groaning. Mori’s operators had shot them on his orders.
“Didn’t you hear me? I said I can’t afford leverage. Even outer city trash like you could spread bad rumors about human experimentation. Your role ends here. Good work.”
“T-That bitch… She tricked us…!”
The fallen Amako trembled, then went limp, forming a pool of blood.
“Clean this up. I hate messes. Now, let’s gather实战 data for Operation Dancing Mail. Three objectives: First, can they kill ordinary people? Second, can they kill high-level skill users? Third, can they conquer dungeons? I believe they can achieve the third. Henceforth, these armored units shall be called Wraiths. Begin.”
Unfazed by the deaths, Mori issued orders to the operators.
On the rooftop of a distant ruined building, a hooded figure sat on the edge, watching the command vehicle and Wraiths below. A catgirl-driven jeep carried Kamishiro Serika away.
“Kukuku… Sorry ‘bout this, Amako boys. With you dead, we’ll take most of your powder trade. Right, Serika?”
They’d never planned to collect cores—just used it as an excuse to kill the Amako and seize control. Mori must’ve been told to eliminate them. The figure spoke into a bone-conduction comms device.
“That’s right. And if things go well, we’ll achieve another goal. You can head back now.”
Serika’s reply made the figure grin under the hood, mouth twisting.
“I’ll go back after killing an old friend.”
“You should stop there. Greed never ends well—that’s universal.”
“Once those Wraiths fight, my dear old friend’s mana will dry up. It’s my perfect chance. Can’t waste it.”
“…Understood. I’ll treat you to a nice restaurant when you’re back.”
The call ended. Pushing back her hair, the woman sneered.
“Kept you waiting a long time, huh, Amano Sakimori? Let’s catch up, shall we?”
Kochou, former leader of the oil sellers, clenched her metallic left fist with a screech of metal.