Author Notes:
Sorry for the late chapter, things have been quite hectic in Nam. Mum's health worsened lately so that killed off a lot of my motivation. But hey, I am back!
I'm not gonna waste anymore of your time (though your continue support will be much appreciated), so enjoy!
P.S: This chapter is somehow disturbing to me, as an author.
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The rattling of a train, ten carts long, echoes throughout the night. Its destination is unclear as it rides along an undesignated train track. Aboard the cramped, poor quarters of the train, numerous souls accepted their fate of being deported to a land unknown to them. Women, men, and children of all ages... Seat in relatively tense, the helpless occupants in the carts can't help but be wary about the uncertain future ahead. Well, most of them, at least.
A child, younger than 10 from the looks of it, fails to acquire sleep, so, he does the only thing he can think of to stave away boredom. He sings.
"I'm going on a trip! On a trip to~... Hey, hey, mama, where are we heading again?" The boy tilted his head upward and asked innocently.
The mother, her eyes lacking the light they used to have, struggles to put on a smile, answering her son in a tired but kind way. "I do believe we're heading to the city of Auschwitz, son."
Making an "Oh, right!" face, the son returns to singing, blissfully unaware of the dread that suddenly shows up on his mother's face.
"I'm going on a trip! On a trip to Auschwitz~!"
His singsong voice, bad as it may be, doesn't do more than put a frown on the other dozen occupants in the claustrophobic quarter of the cart. A few contemplate ruining the parade of the kid but ultimately decide it's not worth the trouble. Whatever comes next, they will need all the shuteye they can get.
Minutes later, the kid calms down enough, having wasted the excess energy that he somehow saved, drifting into slumber. His mother absentmindedly strokes his head, his hair is the same color as that of his missing father. The pillar of the house was spirited away by Sardegnian Enforcers months ago. Another tinge of pain, accompanied by tears this time, appears on the face of the mother. She is banking on the far-fetched hope that maybe, just maybe, her husband is at their destination, in Auschwitz.
She is not the only one with such hope, however. Many of her compatriots, all sporting the same white armband with the blue David star, wish to reunite with their missing loved ones. The Papacy spreads words that Auschwitz would be an isolated haven for their race, rounding up the Jewish communities regularly to ship them day and night. It's unknown just how true it may be but for most of them, they only want to meet their family and be away from persecution.
The rest of the train ride to Auschwitz occurs in silence, save for a few sleepless whispers or prayers here and there. For the majority of them, this would most probably be their final destination.
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Footsteps echo amidst a corridor of a grandiose cathedral, built higher than all other buildings in its vicinity and sitting atop a spacious hill. The calm, deliberated footsteps belong to a woman in her twenties with blonde hair and green eyes. Illuminated by the fake moon shining through the grand window, the woman fixes her disheveled purple jacket, showing off her frilly white shirt that covers up her ample bosom while doing so. Additionally, she has white gloves, a pink necktie, a brown belt, gray pants, and brown boots. Her outfit reeks of nobility or the Sardegnian equivalent of it, judging from the ornated Holy Cross resting on her jacket collar.
Having just come back from a failed experiment, which resulted in a somewhat uncontrolled explosion of vapor, the elegant woman has her attention piqued by the distant sound of a train horn. Stopping before deciding to inch closer to one of the windows, a pair of green eyes then survey the land down below. A hubbub of activity can be seen at the edge of a self-contained city, another train has arrived. Having witnessed the proceeding herding of passengers many times before, the woman is unsurprised when a seemingly endless stream of people is directed to an underlit corner of the walled-in city. The so-called Jewish sector, a slum at the end of the day, in the city of Auschwitz. It can also be compared to a prison for the sector is boxed in by another set of walls and watchtowers. Allowing no escape from Auschwitz.
A part of the woman pities the fate that will soon befall the Jews, yet, she has grown numb to even attempt anything. In the end, she had and will be a conductor that will bring a fate worse than death to them. All for the sake of her foolish desire and the order of her cruel supervisors.
Taking a chilling breath, the woman then sighs, moving on from her grim thoughts. She has a meeting to attend, another human experimentation, and another batch of Crusaders must be born... What will happen to the young children when she injects the newest mana-infused solution into them? How many Crusaders will be born in this batch? Five? Three? Just one person? Or none at all and they will waste hundreds of lives for nothing? Kallen, being the blonde's best friend and hopefully something more, barely survived the long, cruel process of creating something more than a human. Ultimately, the light of her life became the strongest S-rank up to date, the one and only Kallen of House Kaslana. The enhanced physical body and the ability to use magic through mediums are but a couple of many strengths that Kallen gained through blood, sweat, and tears.
The other subjects, brave women that volunteered for the enhancement process, weren't so lucky, however. With a casualty rate fluctuating from 80 to 90%, it seems like only the will of God can help them with their chances. And of the two dozen weaker Crusaders that first accompanied Kallen into Spain, the woman was shocked when she learned that half of them were taken out by mere men and women. They died even when they held the element of surprise, many didn't even have an intact corpse to recover. The presumable noblewoman, being that she is highly involved in God's Trial process, was rattled, knowing that even Kallen may fall under the mere schemes of man.
Again, the woman shakes her head to clear out her errant thoughts, hasting her steps to reach an ornated obsidian door, now mere steps away. There's no use dwelling in grim thoughts, the best she can do now is hope the reinforcement Crusaders can protect Kallen. She has stressed it many times before sending them off. Grabbing a golden ring protrusion and gently bringing it down on the door, echoing low, resounding clangs, the woman speaks up.
"Lady Lyssa, I'm Ottile Apocalypse, you have summoned me?" She then awaits permission to enter.
A moment later, a drawled-out voice answers the inquiry. Had she not known better, Ottile might have pegged the voice as dignified and noble. "Come in. We have much to discuss."
"Do excuse me, Lady Lyssa." Ottile said, pushing the black door open.
The night is far from over.
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"We've broken past the Spanish line, allowing us three avenues to push further inland." A haughty voice said, belonging to the new General of the corp-size invasion force. "The heathens stood no chance against the might of our army!"
Even for Kallen, the infuriated smirks are, well, infuriating. The General, under his order, had pushed many young men forward to their death, in a way not dissimilar to the Great War's bloody charges. Though the Spanish Coalition lacked the number to fill up the trenches, they still doused the fields outside Comberth in a sea of blood. Their home-field advantage nullified the overwhelming numbers Sardegna threw at them.
Kallen allows herself to bite down a remark that if it wasn't for her and her fellow Crusaders, alongside the limited amount of armored vehicles they brought along, it's doubtful that this fatso of a General could even get out of Comberth alive. Kallen may not want the position of a field commander but that doesn't mean she is fine with an incompetent General. Sadly, at the end of the day, Kallen knows she lacks the connection and expertise to lead a force that's not her group of Crusaders.
Fortunately, another batch of battle sisters have arrived earlier and Kallen can't wait to debrief them. Astoundingly for her, she was promoted to lead all other Crusaders that are presented in Spain. Kallen also answers only to Sardegna High Command, meaning she can veto the order of the fat General in front of her, should the need arise. Kallen feels lucky, for that directive has helped protect her sisters from the lecherous hands of the fat General.
The S-rank Crusader is pulled out of her thoughts when the General goes on to say, his belly rumbling with every breath he takes. "Three avenues, three angles of attack we can use to completely surround the enemy, forcing the heathens to succumb to the will of God! After a long time of contemplation, I have come up with a great plan!"
Kallen almost rolls her eyes at this for she knows the man has been spending time eating and drinking fine wine with his commanding staff.
"We will split our force into three formations, each 15000 strong. The first formation will head North, bound for Teruel. The second formation will move West to secure Motilla del Palancar. Last, but not least, the third formation will go South with the order to besiege Murcia, the Spanish's Southern Stronghold." The General pointed at a few spots on the map. "Along the way, there are a few towns and villages that we must liberate in the name of the Lord. Use them as resupply stations if you must and restore order if you have to."
The fat General then smirks, directing his eyes across the command room. "Gentlemen, and lady, I will hereby name this plan Operation Ballista." His perverted eyes repulsed Kallen, clearly roaming his eyes alongside her curves. "God has entrusted us with the task of bringing judgment down on these heretics! We, as his executioners, will stop at nothing till they all are burning in Hell! Spare no quarter and punish them in the name of the Lord! God wills it!"
Then the entire room explodes into fanatic cheers.
"GOD WILLS IT!" Kallen followed suit, albeit not as feverish, more as an obligation.
The other officers and Kallen slowly filed out of the room, only for Kallen to be stopped by the General himself. "Lady Kaslana!"
She and a few other officers turn around, they clearly want to see what happens next. Not minding the spectators, the General picks up a golden chalice, filled to the brim with wine, slowly caressing it while the eyes that are looking at her go lower than they should be. Much to Kallen's hidden displeasure, the General opens up with this.
"I don't think these heretics will be much of a trouble for our mighty army, fair lady. Surely you need not dirty your hands with the blood of these heathens?"
Shaking her head, wearing a cold face, Kallen replies. "Our duty as Crusaders is to hand out the will of the Lord, regardless of difficulty or danger. We will stain our honor if we shy away from mere dirtiness."
Frowning but not losing his fake smile, the General continues in a lower voice. "But I insist, Lady Kaslana! You have been an active participant ever since the start of this... conflict, to put it mildly. Isn't it about time you settle down for a bit, taking care of your own well-being? Let us men finish what you started."
The subtle warning is not lost on Kallen though she is not sure why the fat General said it. There are many reasons why the General could feel disinclined to let her roam around. Unperturbed, however, the S-rank Crusader refuses to back down. "With all due respect, General. I do not answer to you, I answer to the Lord first and foremost. I will contemplate your advice but I assure you, I'm perfectly combat-ready. My sisters and I have our own obligations to fulfill and I think you should complete yours too. Have a nice evening, General."
Kallen performs a light bow before heading out of the command room, the curious spectators follow suit right after. Now alone, the fat General puts on a chilling smile before snickering. "Eh, whatever. Your loss, Lady Kaslana." He then proceeds to empty the chalice of its delectable content.