Author's Preface
High above, the full moon hangs. Distant. Beguiling. Forever out of reach.
From the eve of my arrival to the mortal world, the moon had always fascinated me. Its relative proximity to the planet influenced the swaying tides, yet its distance gave it an elusive allure. Not too far, yet not too close — a horribly lonely position.
It reminded me of the Eternal Twilight. I had novels, religious texts, sculptures, and scientific textbooks to inform me of humanity's tenets, yet I did not live amongst humans. What I saw was merely words on paper—an abstraction.
I wasn’t like my father, who had been born as a human. I am an automaton, an artificial creature with no connection to anything or anyone. In other words, I was utterly alone.
Though it’s not like I despised such a way of life, I do not feel what humans feel, for I am me, and they are them. I will not age. I will not decay. I will see the many creatures of the mortal world come and pass, live and die, and I will remain alone.
All is well. All is as intended. At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.
“Ha!”
I swung the broken Sword of Promised Victory beneath the beating waterfall, its exceptional sharpness creating a quiet hiss with every sweeping arc. There was little time in the day when I could use my father’s sword, as the majority of my time didn’t require such excessive force. There also came the issue of secrecy. How would people react if I revealed such an artifact? It was best only to use it when necessary…Or at least when I couldn’t get caught.
Each swing reminded me of my days in the Eternal Twilight, returning to me the home I so longed to escape. The strenuous training sessions, the constant repetitions, the exhaustion binding my limbs — the art of swordsmanship was the only tether I had to those beautiful days, to my father, the hero once renowned by all.
It was strange, obtuse, and utterly nonsensical. I sought freedom, yet did nothing but cling to the chains of my past.
What was this sword given to me for? What was its purpose? Its meaning?
“To end the war, of course,” I said aloud. “But how exactly am I supposed to do that? What even are the Shura, really? I had only one meeting with the Demon Child, perhaps, but that’s hardly a cumulative estimate of the character of Shura as a whole.”
In other words, I was a child, ignorant of the world and its elusive machinations.
And thus, he stood beneath the crashing waterfall, bathed in moonlight. Swinging and swinging away and swinging and swinging away.
“Ha…I can’t rest at all.”
My mood couldn’t have been worse, and sulking like this would do nothing but worsen my condition. I needed something, anything, to ease my discomfort.
The broken Sword of Promised Victory transformed into particles of light before dimming and vanishing entirely. As a Divine Construct, I didn’t need to hold it on my person at all times. I could freely summon and unsummon it.
“Well, I guess it's time to head back to the camp.”
———
I returned to Barrack 12D. To my right was Keresaspa, peacefully sleeping on her bunk, while Atreides and Derrick sat together on the couch, drinking a freshly made batch of Earl Grey tea.
Atreides met my gaze. “Welcome back, Ereth. Did you have fun on your little excursion?”
“...” Just a small, jittery bow from Derrick.
“Ah, well, I can’t say it was, sorry,” I said.
“Really? Would you mind sitting with us over some tea? Derrick has some choice words for you.”
“H-Hey!”
Derrick? Choice words? He wasn’t exactly the type to clearly communicate his emotions, at least, not to my knowledge.
I sat beside Derrick, pouring myself a cup of Earl Grey tea. It was a bit cloudy, indicating rapid temperature change, or perhaps they let the teabag oversteep.
“I-I…” He stammered, twiddling his fingers. “I’m sorry.”
“What…?”
“S-Sorry. Was that too forward? Was I supposed to warm up the mood first? I wasn’t sure how to tell you. Is this alright?”
“Okay, okay. It's alright. Just explain a bit.” I stopped him rambling apologetics before they got out of hand.
“It w-wasn’t my choice to stop the examination. I was only following the Lieutenant’s orders.”
“I appreciate the apology, but why did you think I’d be upset over that?”
“You seemed like you were having fun, more fun than you ever had with the rest of us during your stay here.”
“My entertainment doesn’t take priority over the Lieutenant’s orders. You did the right thing.”
“I-I see…thank you, Ereth.”
He lowered his gaze, the corners of his lips rising into a smile. A warm feeling overcame me. Was I normally like this?
I thought about questioning him about his sudden personality shift, but that may be too much for him right now. Let sleeping dogs lie.
“I appreciate the grateful expression, Derrick, but I believe Atreides is far more deserving of praise.”
“...Hm?” Atreides, the olive-skinned sailor with an empty cup of tea, raised his gaze.
“If it were not for your approval, the tension between Keresaspa and the Lieutenant would have boiled over, creating a far larger issue for the Problem Children. Your word alone was enough to resolve the situation.”
“Ah, that? It was nothing, really. I am incompetent as well, you see, so I must rely on my tongue where others may cling to strength.”
“The pen is often mightier than the sword,” I said.
“Yet the pen may only be granted its validity under the authority of the sword. To wave a big stick, as an ancient leader once proposed.”
“...”
I had no reply to his quick-witted retort.
“Does something trouble you?”
“It would be a lie to say otherwise.”
“Pray tell,” Atreides said, glassy-eyed.
“...”
“...”
The silence lasted nearly ten seconds.
“Do you believe me strong?”
“Quite.”
“And what is the purpose of strength?”
“To conquer.”
“...?”
His response left me a tad confused, his blunt answer juxtaposed against his friendly grin.
“The sword is ultimately a tool of murder. It has no other purpose. One can say that merely wielding the blade is an act of violence, and that those who it fells are merely the penalties of war. It is best not to dwell on such things.”
“...”
Across the little human history I had studied, a similar trend arose. Many weapons of warfare were often tools repurposed from household items or medical equipment. Gunpowder was invented in an attempt to find the elixir of life; the bow was originally a hunting weapon; and the axe was invented for woodworking and tree-felling. There are very few weapons in human history with the express intent of murder.
Though numerous weapons without utility existed before the advent of the sword, none were so polished, so meticulous in craft as the sword.
Indeed, the sword is the very culmination of human malice.
“You once told us of your grand mission: ending the 1000-year war. A noble mission indeed, but the road to hell is often paved with good intentions. Humanity is on its last legs, and the Shura are only advancing. If one wishes to become a hero, then they must pay the price in blood.”
“A price…”
I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. Or rather, I chose not to accept it as truth. I had only known my father’s way of life, a path of understanding and compassion. To hear such a detached world view…it was unsettling.
Amid my evident discomfort, a surprising ally interjects.
“That’s not true!” Derrick declares, his usual neuroticism having vanished. “Though the sword may have been created with malicious intent, the strength it provides must not be used to conquer!”
“Oh…? It is most unusual to hear you speak up like this, Derrick. I’d like to hear your perspective.”
Derrick turned towards me triumphantly.
“You could have drawn your sword during the standoff. That option was available to you. Right, Ereth?”
“I suppose so.”
“And yet you chose diplomacy instead, yes?”
“Correct.”
“It was that very diplomacy, that restraint, that allowed Atreides to resolve the situation peacefully!”
“...!”
“Even if it’s true that the sword is a weapon of murder, that doesn’t mean that conquest is its sole purpose. Words can also be used to understand others. Restraint is far greater a virtue than conquest!
Understanding and dismissing. Harming and discussing. Killing and saving.
All of these events, these connections, were merely the results of the choices I made.
I chose to save the little girl in Saranhell.
I chose to fight alongside Xerxes and save the town from annihilation.
I chose to lay down my sword and communicate with the Lieutenant.
And it was precisely because of those choices that I am where I stand today.
Derrick continued his impassioned speech. “We are soldiers. Everyone here understands what we signed up for. Killing people is simply a part of the job, and I won’t deny that. However…even if we’re murderers, we’ll repent for our crimes by saving as many innocents as we can. 1000 lives taken, and 1001 lives saved!”
I cast my eyes downward.
“What if we cannot bear that weight, the weight of lives lost?”
“Then rely on us, just as you relied on Atreides that day! I-I know I’m weak, incompetent, and don’t really have much to provide us, but I want to keep working hard! I want to support all of us when we’re weak, just as I rely on all of you.”
“Derrick…”
“T-Toast!” He grabbed his teacup and raised it high. The movement was so abrupt that he spilled a bit on his uniform, clumsy as ever. “I-I know our time with each other has been brief, but let's toast to the occasion! You too, Keresaspa. Stop pretending to be asleep!”
“...So you noticed.” Keresaspa rolled over, her hair long and messy.
“You’re one of us, so don’t you dare reject my toast!”
She lowered her gaze and sighed, perhaps a mix of annoyance and acceptance. “Okay, okay. I understand, young Derrick. Let us toast to the occasion.” She reached over and grabbed the last teacup.
“I’ll admit it; Derrick provided quite the counter-argument. I almost feel obligated to accept the toast, given my humiliating defeat.” Atreides seemed to take pleasure in hearing Derrick’s sermon. Did he find it convincing? I had no idea.
I was the final member of the party to raise my cup.
“T-To the Problem Children, the greatest band of misfits in the k-kingdom!” Derrick said, still as jittery as usual.
“To the Problem Children!”
We clicked our cups and drank in celebration. What was this feeling welling up in my chest? It was warm, almost hot, as it rose to the surface: the smiles, the banter, the playful teasing, and noisy cheering. No matter what it was, it was a nice, joyous feeling. Perhaps it was quite selfish of me to say this, but deep down, I wanted this moment to last for an eternity.