"——… …is——… …——eply… …respond!"In a certain country, referred to as carrying the heart of the continent, a central, multistorey building; the president's office.If it was like it usually was, it would be a room with marble floors and made up with expensive ornaments. But at the present time, it had been reduced to something that one would hesitate to look directly at; a disastrous scene.The floors and walls broken by bombs and gunfire, the decorations that are now garbage.And countlessly scattered about————dead bodies.Blood flows from all of those bodies, and as anyone could see, there is no hope for their survival.Nay, there was just one moving figure.There is one man who was wearing extra protective clothing, similar to full-body tights.As the man is lying face down, he tries to get up, but unable to support his body, he often falls.The man who had abandoned standing up, crawls forward, leaned his back onto a nearby wall and caught his breath.And then switched on the earphone type communicator that is attached to his ear."… …battle lost, this is… …Code Accel"

"Are you ok!? Report the situation!"

In the midst of the countlessly scattered about dead bodies, there was just one that had worn obviously high class clothes.

It was not just the forehead, there are innumerable bulletholes covering the entire body, its original form slightly falling apart from the aftermath of the bombs. That was this building's owner, and also was the man's target.

"The target is… …disposed of. All that's left… …*cough*, the cleanup… …is it?"

"Wait! Isn't that the last resort? Hurry up and escape!""Ha, haha… … that's impossible."

The man looks at his own body.

The traces of several gun shots in the abdomen, the left foot lost from below the knee.

This body—with left hand sensations also practically nonexistent, and where even speaking is painful—is a flawless embodiment of a body covered in wounds.

With the remaining movable right-hand, he takes out a small terminal unit from his pocket and releases its safety device.

That is an explosive detonator.

Having already been calculated, the countlessly set bombs will reliably destroy the building if activated.

Even involving the unmoving man right here.

"Don't give up! I'll send a pick up! Oi, is the helicopter ready?! Authorization? Get it later!"

The other side of the radio becomes noisy.

The man's comrade becomes desperate and appears to be hurling out orders, but there's already no time left.

The moment the man opened his mouth to stop them, the sound of a door being wrenched open reverberated from the other side of the radio.

" " "Teacher————!!" " "

What was heard were the voices of the man's apprentices.

Amongst the flurried sounds, the sounds of five men and women—as if taking up positions in front of the microphone—are audible, and the apprentices' shouts could be heard.

"Teacher, please don't give up!"

"We'll soon pick you up, so please wait for us!"

"There's still plenty of things that we want to be taught!"

"You promised… ….didn't you?"

"Teacher! Teacher… …fa, fa… …ther! Fatheeer!"

Although he should have already convinced them before the operation that there was also the possibility that it would turn out like this, it appears that they couldn't endure it.

While it worries him that their spirits are inexperienced and have a long way to go, he also feels happiness at the affections being thrown towards him.

Mustering his strength, the man issues an order.

"Form a line!"

" " "!? Yes! " " "

Perhaps the result of training, the distracted apprentices answered perfectly.

"Want I want to say… …you know… …right?"

" " "It is 'don't stop walking forward'." " "

"That's… …good. If it's you guys… …it'll be okay. Have confidence in yourself… … and live."

" " "… …yes!" " "

The apprentices seem to be frantically holding back their tears, but no matter how you listen to it, the voices that could be heard were tearful; right about now they're probably shedding a flood of tears.

"Fu… …sorry, for my apprentices."

"No… …no problem. It's their natural right."

"I see."

"Is it already… …impossible?"

"That it would turn out like this… …you knew… …right?"

"… …yeah."

I desperately stifle the anguish, the discord, and finally my voice escaped.

"There are… …things that… …I've bequeathed. I can go… ….smiling."

"… …leave the rest to me."

"I leave it to you. Being together… …with you… …was… …fun."

"That's my line."

The man has lost too much blood, his eyes could no longer see, and his consciousness had also become faint.

No matter what the result was, the operation succeeded.

I've entrusted everything that had to be.

But my last task remains.

With his remaining strength, the man flipped the switch on.

The faint, reverberating crushing sounds.

They steadily became larger, and they finally arrived at the man's ceiling.

The man accepted the falling rubble, while directly experiencing it.

And then the man is… …