Beyond the Zenith

The next morning, the recruits woke to a somber piece of music.

Confused and murmuring among themselves, they got dressed and stepped out of their tents. Between the rows of military tents before them, Regiment Commander Li, the regiment lead advisor, and all the instructors who had accompanied them on this trip stood in crisp uniforms, backs straight, saluting in the direction of the music. The nearby camps were doing the same.

The recruits didn’t dare break the solemn atmosphere. They quickly fell in line and saluted as well.

Eventually, the music stopped, and the salute ended.

“Today is Monument Day,” the regiment lead advisor told the recruits.

Everyone had heard of monuments. Monument Day, though? That was new.

“In the earliest years of the Oriental Republic Army Group, and frankly for a very long time after that, there was never a proper place to build a monument for the Coalition warriors who had given their lives. You all understand why, right?” The regiment lead advisor paused. “Just like our Wall of Heroic Spirits on Ninth Army Mountain; to this day, we keep the tradition of not placing headstones for them, not inscribing their names on the wall, and not displaying their photographs...”

These sacrifices couldn’t be explained to the public.

The regiment lead advisor didn’t say it outright, but every recruit understood. They gave a heavy nod. This secrecy would continue for who knew how long, with them likely becoming among those whose sacrifice would one day have to be hidden.

“So, the Azure Coalition designated today, September 29, Monument Day,” the regiment lead advisor said at last.

“Why today?” a recruit asked.

“Because today marks the single deadliest day in the history of the Oriental Republic Army Group.”

“Was it a large-scale Sharpie landing?” the recruit pressed.

The regiment lead advisor didn’t answer.

***

The First Army’s directly attached 7th Regiment was jokingly referred to within the Coalition as the Capital Guard, or the Imperial Army. This was because of their long and distinguished history, their formidable strength, and the fact that their defense zone was relatively close to the Only Witness Legion’s headquarters.

“This is very rare luck,” said the leader of Platoon 164 of the 7th Regiment with a childlike giddiness.

That morning, he had received a mission deployment alert from the Fifth Army, also known as the Ravens, but later, he received a call from headquarters telling them they wouldn’t need to deploy after all.

As a veteran of the Azure Coalition, he knew what this meant.

The old man is coming!

In the twenty-some years since that old man had taken command of the Only Witness Legion, whenever Monument Day coincided with a spindle-shaped aircraft landing within a reachable distance, he would come and personally kill one or two Sharpies as an offering for the fallen.

These opportunities were genuinely rare. This year, they had gotten lucky.

“This is within our defense zone. It’s our duty to be there. We’re allowed to watch!” the platoon leader said gleefully, practically skipping out the door.

Less than ten minutes after Platoon 164 reached their designated position, three helicopters landed.

A tall, thin old man stepped off a helicopter, with over a dozen young officers following suit. Every single one of them wore a source energy maneuvering device.

The platoon leader stepped forward and saluted, briefing the old man on the terrain and their ambush positions.

The legion commander returned the salute.

After getting into their ambush positions came the long, patient wait of a standard platoon-level operation.

Until the spindle-shaped aircraft landed.

Chen Bu’e, legion commander of the Only Witness Legion, climbed out of his ambush pit wearing combat fatigues and some kind of tactical vest that seemed stuffed with magazines. It looked old, heavy, and cumbersome.

“That thing the legion commander is wearing...” someone in the platoon whispered.

“A sixth-generation maneuvering device,” the platoon leader said proudly. “I’ve worn one too.”

The situation unfolding before them, though, was unexpected. The dozen or so young officers who had arrived with the legion commander didn’t follow him out. They stayed in the ambush pit, just like Platoon 164.

“Don’t underestimate them. They’re all individual combatants that the legion has been cultivating after a vetting period,” the platoon leader explained to his troops. “Do you think just anyone gets the chance to observe the legion commander in live combat?”

So it’s going to be a one-on-one, Platoon 164 thought.

“I heard the legion commander could take down a Sharpie by himself when he was younger,” one of the platoon’s soldiers said excitedly to the person beside him, still reeling from the shock.

“When he was younger?” a voice asked.

The soldier glanced in confusion. Finally, he realized that the legion commander, not far ahead, was staring at him with a displeased frown.

“I—”

“You think I’m old,” the legion commander accused.

At that moment, the spindle-shaped aircraft completed its ejection. Two Sharpies in black armor dropped to the ground.

At the same time, blue light flashed across Chen Bu’e’s body. He gripped a black iron straight blade in each hand, standing his ground in a one-on-two.

“How come your guys with the red stripe on the shoulder never show up anymore? Or are they on the way?”

The soldiers were stunned to realize that the legion commander was talking to the Sharpies.

So, do the Sharpies actually...

“They can’t understand me. I just felt like asking,” Chen Bu’e said without turning around.

Since the Sharpies couldn’t understand, there was no need to waste time with words.

The fight began immediately.

The legion commander’s opening move came mid-sprint. He planted one foot hard on the ground and launched his entire body into the air. Gripping both blades in a reverse hold, he simultaneously swung both blades, slashing at the necks of both Sharpies.

The soldiers were speechless.

The first line of the first page in the Source Energy Maneuvering Device Combat Manual was: Do not jump. Do not jump. Do not jump.

“Actually, if you’re fast enough, you can jump,” the legion commander said, once again answering their unspoken question from the battlefield.

The clash of steel rang through the air as the Sharpies blocked Chen Bu’e’s first attack. He passed between the two Sharpies, landing on the far side, and planted both feet against a large tree trunk.

A resounding thud echoed as he launched himself back for another slash.

At the same time, one of the Sharpies swung its pillar blade in a horizontal sweep directly at him.

Their blades clashed.

Is he going to take it head-on? the soldiers wondered, bracing for the impact.

The violent collision never came. Chen Bu’e’s blade met the pillar blade with the gentle touch of a snowflake skimming the weapon’s surface.

The legion commander himself seemed to have turned into a snowflake too. Gripping his blade, his body drifted through the air, carried along by the momentum of the Sharpie’s horizontal sweep.

“This isn’t a martial art. Source energy surges through your body. Control it. Stack the surges to their peak, and you can unleash a force beyond your own imagination. If you can precisely time the ebb of the surge, you can do what I’m doing right now,” he explained, man and blade having already ridden the Sharpie’s sweeping pillar blade past 260 degrees.

The pillar blade couldn’t reach past the Sharpie’s own body.

But the legion commander could.

He swept around to behind the Sharpie at the tail end of its sweep, where all its force was spent. As he descended diagonally from its nape down its back, he made sure to drive both blades in at once, cutting from left to right in a full arc.

With that, he finally landed once more.

In less than a minute, the first Sharpie collapsed with a heavy thud, black mist rising from within its armor.

“I care even less about A-rank, B-rank, or S-rank than you imagine,” the legion commander said to the young officers who had accompanied him, standing calmly in place while the second Sharpie charged at him in a frenzy.

Chen Bu’e raised a blade to point at the Sharpie. “Kill it.”

“What?”

“Kill it! I’m old. I thought you knew that?”

With that, the legion commander retreated.

The dozen or so young officers scrambled out of the pit and swarmed in.

Fortunately, they were all top-tier combatants, or at least close to top-tier.

And so, the battle continued.

“Someone like me should have stayed a front-line soldier in the field forever,” the legion commander said wistfully to Platoon 164 beside him as he lay on the edge of the ambush pit.

Then he laughed at himself. There was something in that laughter that nobody else could quite understand.

Platoon 164 didn’t know how to respond.

The legion commander didn’t mind, quietly waiting until the fight was over and the rain of debris from the aircraft exploding had passed. Brushing the grass and dust off himself, he climbed out of the pit before turning back and saluting.

“The ones who truly hold up the Azure Coalition have never been the top-tier combatants. It’s you guys... Thank you,” he said sincerely to Platoon 164, maintaining his salute.

Then, the moment was broken as the old man bolted across the grass like a rabbit.

“Quick, find the energy cores!” he cried. “Find the energy cores!”

***

The recruits were set to head back that same day, the afternoon of Monument Day.

The integration level test results hadn’t been released yet and wouldn’t be announced at this main base. The results would be sent directly to their regiment in a few days.

“The Only Witness Legion’s defense area is simply too large, and there are too many uncertainties around where Sharpies will land. That’s why we’re spread so thin and have to travel so far,” the regiment lead advisor explained to the recruits as they waited to leave.

Up ahead, not far from where they stood, Regiment Commander Li was in a heated argument with Yang Wudong, the commander of the 439th Regiment, also from the Ninth Army, fighting over who got to take which route.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” the regiment lead advisor said, lowering his head and rubbing his nose. “The commander is doing this for your sake. With this many regiments in each army, if everyone takes the same route, civilians will think a war has broken out. So, the routes are split up. If the commander wins, it’ll save us a lot of detours. Six days and five nights on the way here, but less than four days and four nights on the way back.”

“Oh,” everyone said obligingly.

Privately, though, they couldn’t help but think hearing two full-blown regiment commanders bicker like this was downright embarrassing.

“You bald fool!”

“You broken-back old man!”

“No wonder Xiao Nan didn’t want you!”

“Heh.”

The recruits stared blankly.

The regiment lead advisor cleared his throat, feeling compelled to explain, “Regiment Commander Li and Regiment Commander Yang used to be romantic rivals.”

“Wow, so who won in the end?” Wen Jifei asked eagerly.

“Neither,” the regiment lead advisor said.

Wen Jifei’s face went blank, then turned to the rest of Dormitory 11 and asked, “Does that even count as being rivals? Isn’t that just gassing themselves up?”

Then he noticed his roommates’ expressions had changed, and he quickly turned around.

Why am I so unlucky?

Regiment Commander Yang was storming toward them.

Wen Jifei was about to duck behind the regiment lead advisor, but he was too late. Commander Yang was already there, boots crunching over gravel, kicking up dust.

“You’re the A-rank recruit?” he barked at Han Qingyu.