Humans are creatures that sleep.

Sleep is an inevitable requirement of being alive. You can put it off, but you cannot refuse it forever. Even in the middle of a flowing road.

Being able to sleep while traveling is both a blessing and a curse in itself. Even under these circumstances, humans owe sleep its due.

I was groaning at the rough vibrations running through my whole body when it happened.

"Wake up. Please wake up..."

An urgent voice. A hand prodding my shoulder impatiently. Then a whisper in my ear.

Oh, what now? Stop disturbing my sweet slumber. The only way to compensate for poor-quality sleep was with quantity.

I squirmed and mumbled,

"Just ten more minutes..."

But even I had to snap awake at the next words.

"... Robbers. Wake up."

"Huh? Robbers?"

The meta-conveyor belt and highway robbery.

There was an enormous gulf between those two concepts.

Once upon a time, some futile inventions called railways and trains had appeared. Build a road out of steel and send vehicles along it: two lines leading to heaven, paved with good intentions.

They soon vanished into the backwaters of history, thanks to passing beasts chewing on the rails out of curiosity, enemy spies disguised as beasts committing acts of sabotage, or highwaymen with plenty of time and no money launching raids.

Compared to that rubbish, this meta-conveyor belt was an invention approaching perfection.

Even someone with malicious intentions could not damage the meta-conveyor belt. Tear up a section of road, and the damage would simply flow away or fill itself in. If you truly wanted to stop this flow, you had to be prepared to dig up all the earth.

Another way of saying "impossible."

Even getting onto the belt was difficult. Unlike a train, which stopped and spun its wheels helplessly when its tracks were blocked, the majestically flowing earth went on its way regardless of what anyone did.

Bring a cliff crashing down, and rather than being blocked, the road would carry the cliff along with it. Humans had to find some way to match the earth's movement.

Finding a target was difficult, too. The meta-conveyor belt carried countless goods traveling to and from every corner of the Military State. Unlike a railway, where every passing train was a treasure chest, there was no way to know what cargo a container held without a Piercing Eye.

On top of that, the people using this road were usually soldiers.

Somehow overcome all those obstacles and steal something? Congratulations. Now all you had to do was jump off, exhausted and with a heavy pack strapped to your back.

By then, the horse or carriage you had arrived in would be far behind you. Military State troops would be waiting instead.

Consequently, highway robbery on the meta-conveyor belt had become the exclusive domain of groups with organizational strength great enough to dream of overthrowing a nation...

Like the Resistance, for instance.

Wait a minute.

"The Resistance?"

"Presumed affirmative! Right now, they are dropping from abov—!"

As the captain spoke, a battle cry rang out overhead.

"Yaaah!"

The sky had not yet fully brightened. We happened to be passing through a valley, delaying the arrival of morning, and the half-asleep travelers rubbed their eyes and peered around through the dim mist.

But the intruders came from above.

In the distance, as many as ten people came pouring down on ropes.

They must have practiced beforehand. The ropes traced precisely calculated arcs, changing direction just before impact to carry their riders along with the belt. Their feet barely brushed the belt before they released their ropes in unison and rolled across the ground.

When they stood, each held a bayonet-fitted gun.

Only one man landed smoothly, dragging a long spear along the ground instead of carrying a gun.

Having swung down as nimbly as monkeys, the Resistance members aimed their guns in every direction and shouted,

"Nobody move!"

Honestly. Now even these nobodies were attacking us.

I quietly watched the reckless pups blocking my path until—

"Hands up! On your knees!"

I obediently did as I was told. Guns had no minds. No, sir.

When their eyes fell on her, the terrified mother clutched her son tightly. She was so frightened she was practically sobbing.

The spear-wielding man who appeared to be their leader gave the mother and son a reassuring sort of smile.

"We are the Resistance. Friends of the people. We have no intention of harming you nonmilitary folk."

Meanwhile, behind him, other Resistance members were breaking into the cargo with large axes and tools. A tightly sealed container broke open, exposing several neatly packed boxes. Most of the Resistance members, except their leader, took lamps and went inside.

The leader kept his spear trained on us as he counted heads.

"Two civilians. One combat engineer. And here..."

"Civilians! We're civilians! We're on our way home to Amitengrad!"

I beat the captain to the punch before she could speak. In my shabby clothes, with the captain still in just her shirt, we looked every inch a pair of civilians.

The Resistance leader looked around and muttered,

"No soldiers? Well, no soldiers would be heading this way right now."

'Which is why we chose this opening. We got lucky.'

Relaxing his guard a little, the leader cast sharp glances around as he spoke.

"Stay still. We are the Resistance. We are reclaiming the kingdom's rightful property."

The old combat engineer, caught up in this ordeal, echoed him.

"The kingdom?"

"Yes. Everything in the Military State originally belonged to the kingdom. We are taking back what the Military State unlawfully occupies."

All sorts of people gathered in the Resistance to overthrow the Military State.

Knights from the old kingdom, idealistic youths, and dregs driven out by the Military State. Their reasons differed, but ultimately they had joined forces because they could not live under the same sky as the Military State.

Of those factions, the largest was naturally the knights, the privileged class of the old era.

The king's spearmen.

It was only natural that knights, who had possessed wealth, authority, followers, and martial strength, became the rallying point.

"The Military State acted like cowards, launching a surprise attack and toppling the country while the provincial knights were at their posts. Had all the provincial knights been gathered at the royal castle, that rabble's uprising would have ended as a mere disturbance. How is that any different from having our country stolen?"

Knights had been the country's ruling class, as well as the lords of their own domains.

Many had been out in the provinces during the coup. When the Military State seized power, they either resisted or went into hiding with their money and retainers. Their strength became a spearhead aimed at the Military State, leaving it badly shaken both within and without in the early days of its rule.

Nowadays, of course, only the Resistance was reeling.

In any case, the Resistance leader, Sir Waltzroy, radiated a sharp menace as he grumbled discontentedly.

"What would ignorant peasants understand even if I explained? Keep quiet and stay still, just as you did when the kingdom fell. Peasants who know neither honor nor glory..."

Clad in a knight's arrogance, Sir Waltzroy watched over us without lifting a finger while the other Resistance members looted the container.

As though someone as noble as himself could never perform such menial work.

As the noise inside the container began to grow, the captain beside me twitched.

'Though I am a communications officer, I am a captain of the Military State. I must fulfill my duty.'

Huh? Why, all of a sudden?

Wait. No, right? Surely you aren't thinking what I think you're thinking?

'I may be a communications officer, but I am still a captain. I cannot stand by while rebels steal the Military State's property.'

Defying my hopes, the captain rose with firm resolve. She tried to insert the clothing packet in her hand into her biometric terminal.

Just before Sir Waltzroy, sensing something amiss, could move his hand—

"Aaaagh!"

I swiftly threw my arms around the captain and rolled across the ground with her. Gripping her fist so she could not open her hand, I clamped my other hand over her mouth and pinned her beneath my weight.

The subdued captain writhed and shouted,

"Let me g—mmph!"

"I'm sorry! My Bee has an anxiety disorder!"

Seriously, had she lost her mind?

Our opponent was a knight, one of the kingdom's former ruling class. Even a captain promoted through normal channels would probably lose. How was a communications officer, a lightweight even among captains, supposed to fight him? Blast a screech straight into his eardrum? That might actually stand a chance!

As the captain and I grappled, Sir Waltzroy pointed his spear at us.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't mind us! She has fits! I stay with her to hold her down when this happens! Ow!"

Damn it, she bit me. But I gritted my teeth and kept her mouth covered.

Pinned beneath me, the captain let out a soundless cry.

'Release me! I am a soldier of the Military State! I must fulfill my duty!'

Some duties weren't worth fulfilling. This would be a pointless death! Why step forward when you couldn't even fight? Were you trying to die?

'Upon discovery, I must immediately take my own life, or kill you, the person who found and saved me. That is the duty of a communications officer entrusted with the most vital secrets!'

Wait. Why bring that up now?

... Oh. Don't tell me.

'Yet thus far, I have failed in that duty. Excited to be out in the world, I kept postponing the choice I would inevitably have to make. I turned away from my duty. But I cannot do so now as well.'

Tch.

Goddamned Military State. What had they done to turn a person into this?

'If I die resisting the Resistance, I will still have fulfilled my duty. Then I will no longer need to agonize over this. This is your only chance to live. So let me go!'

Having made her decision, the captain was about to throw me off and get up.

But the old combat engineer rose first. With a world-weary expression, he took in Sir Waltzroy and the Resistance members dismantling the container.

"... You called us ignorant?"

The engineer moved as though the guns aimed at him meant nothing.

The only difference between him and the captain was that she had me beside her to stop her doing something insane. Facing the Resistance, the engineer murmured with a lifetime's sorrows in his voice.

"My older brother died building the meta-conveyor belt. Fell into the flowing earth and had his whole body crushed. Seeing a man ground up alive... I can still see it plain as day. When I have time to spare, I walk along this belt on the pretext of doing repairs and remember him. I still... resent the Military State. The Military State that took my brother and comrades with its reckless construction work."

"Oh? They say even mud can grow weeds. It seems someone has finally seen the light."

Sir Waltzroy was delighted to hear criticism of the Military State. Sure enough, nothing brought people together like bad-mouthing someone.

"Would you consider joining the Resistance? We always welcome skilled workers like you..."

"Even so. However much I resent the Military State."

The engineer's wrinkled face twisted savagely. Red-hot fury etched itself into every mark hardship had left on his face.

With unparalleled hatred and contempt, he answered through clenched teeth.

"It's a hundred times better than that kingdom of motherfucking scum."

"... What?"

Sir Waltzroy's expression cracked.

Even in the face of the knight's murderous intent, the engineer released a scream condensed from years of bitter resentment. It was the fading cry of someone who remembered the past before the changing of the times: the age of hatred and duels.

"That's right, you motherfucking scum. At least my brother died working as a carpenter. His death was horrific, but at least it wasn't degrading! Better than what you bastards did, swaggering around calling yourselves knights! Killing people like they were toys!"

Realizing the criticism had been aimed at him all along, Sir Waltzroy turned crimson. Gripping his spear shaft hard enough to break it, he strode toward the engineer.

"... You seem eager to die."

Even facing a knight intent on murder, the engineer bellowed with the veins standing out in his neck.

"Yes! Kill me! You kingdom sons of bitches who crawled into bed with scum! Just like you killed my father and mother. Go on, kill me too!"

"If that is your wish."

Sir Waltzroy removed a glove and threw it down before the engineer. The leather glove hit with a slap.

SLAP

The days of the kingdom. The age of knights, when strength was both national might and political power.

Laws had existed then, but were rarely enforced. Instead, trials called duels had flourished.

Two parties tested their strength, and the victor took all. The winner was truth and justice, for this was done in the name of God.

Having cast down his glove, Sir Waltzroy readjusted his grip on his spear with his bare hand and aimed it at the engineer.

"A duel, vermin. Take up your weapon."

The Military State prohibited private duels. Thus, citizens born after military rule began knew little of what a duel was or what it meant.

But those who had lived through the kingdom's days instinctively shuddered at the institution that had claimed more lives than any other in the kingdom.

As the engineer flinched in apparent fear, Sir Waltzroy recited an abbreviated dueling declaration.

"Issue your challenge. Victory is justice, and the Sky God shall surely protect the victor."

"Sacred, my ass! If thugs running wild is God's will, what is he but a god of thugs?!"

The engineer steeled himself and shouted.

"... An ignorant lout who does not even know dueling etiquette. Had you at least responded properly, I would have granted you a clean death."

WHOOSH

The spear cut through the air. Sir Waltzroy settled into his stance like a predator and glared at the engineer as though ready to devour him.

"I will sever your limbs one by one. Writhe on the ground like an insect and die begging for mercy."

The spear drew ever closer. Faced with the terror of death, the engineer faltered backward, his eyes trembling.

But he had no regrets.

The Military State had destroyed the kingdom he hated so bitterly that even chewing it to pieces would not satisfy him. Thus, despite the terrible tragedy he had suffered at its hands, the engineer could not hate the Military State. He had simply walked the meta-conveyor belt for nearly twenty years, storing up his anguish.

And now, at the end of his life, he had finally released that hatred and bitterness. With its target gone, the fire had had nowhere to go, circling inside him until he finally let it all out.

The old combat engineer could die now without regret.

Not that he was going to die.

'No! With the general away, there is no one who can stop the rebels!'

Oh, and Captain. The same went for you. You wouldn't have died even if you had stepped forward.

Why on earth did you think the general had left?

"Your right arm first."

Sir Waltzroy's spear moved. I thought its tip had quivered slightly, and then, in an instant, the blade reared like a snake and was already against the engineer's body.

A thrust so swift and stealthy that neither its beginning nor its end could be discerned.

"Yaaawn."

Then the spear was knocked violently aside.

Sir Waltzroy staggered back, the skin of his gripping hand torn open. He stared at his hand in disbelief, then widened his eyes and aimed his spear in the direction the attack had come from.

"Who goes there?!"

"Me, you little shit."

A presence emerged. The energy barrier concealing him vanished, and he appeared as though a curtain had been drawn aside.

The Six Generals, the Military State's greatest fighting force.

The treasonous knight who had killed more knights than any of the others, Patraxion, stood before the Resistance.