[Sukamoka Vol. 3] Chapter 3 Part 7: Dead Black Agate

Feodor wondered if, as a burglar, it was more prudent to strike at nightfall.

However, the security at Confidential Warehouse Zero was constant through day and night. Because it was underground, sunlight wouldn’t impede him, and that in turn meant choosing between day and night was meaningless.

That was why, in the early afternoon illuminated by a dazzling sun, Feodor once again challenged the Pickle Barrel buried in the depths of the Winged Guard’s base.

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This being Feodor’s second attempt, he was used to it by now… or not. The moment he crept into the room and closed the door, he slumped as all the adrenaline drained out of his body.

The room, which normally didn’t have any visitors, was just as it had been the night before— dark, dusty, and filled with boxes of exceptionally dangerous items. Keeping the lighting to a minimum, Feodor let his eyes adjust to the dim gloom, retracing the steps he had taken.

Finally, his outstretched fingers touched the surface of the box holding the Dead Black Agate.

Now then…

He went over the process in his head again. The wooden box itself didn’t appear sturdy. It wasn’t fragile, but it seemed strange that something as dangerous as a Beast would be stored in it. That meant it was likely for another sealed container to be within the wooden box. Iron? Some other material? Something strong and secure, in any case.

Consequently, the first thing Feodor did was bore open a small hole on the side of the box in an inconspicuous spot. He poked a light crystal through the hole to scan the size and shape of the contents. If it was something he could remove from the side, then he’d widen the hole and–

Hm?

There was something like a gap near the top of the box. A small window about the length of two palms, barely visible in the dim light.

A window? Strange…

Why was that necessary for a box storing hazardous material? If you purposely made a window, that was like saying there was something visible through the window that needed to be checked.

It gave him a bad premonition, but for now it was convenient. Feodor slowly eased open the small window, his strained eyes nervously checking for any possible traps, and looked at the contents.

Eye contact.

“Kh–?!”

Feodor somehow suppressed the urge to scream and clapped a hand over his mouth. Dizziness and nausea battered him, and he almost passed out on the spot.

What… on earth…? I don’t understand…

What he had expected the box to contain was the long-silent Great Sage’s parting gift. That is to say, the corpse of the Shiantor, Lamenting First Beast, which had been killed in the battle of Collinadiluche five years ago.

Feodor didn’t know what appearance the First Beast had, but he’d done his homework on the other beasts, exhausting all the documentation on them from Elpis’ research and the Winged Guard’s own battle records. The Second Beast, Aurora. The Third Beast, Dependence. The Fourth Beast, Legiteimitat. The Fifth Beast, Materno. The Sixth Beast, Teimerre. The Tenth Beast, Croyance. Feodor felt confident that he knew at least something about almost all of the Beasts recorded in history.

Because of that, he had unknowingly developed a certain preconception. He had thought that the other undocumented Beasts were surely grotesque creatures, just like the known ones.

And yet–

The box’s contents lying there before his eyes–

It was something very far from his idea of a Beast.

Indeed, something like this being a Beast was extremely hard to accept. Because that was–

“Did you see it?”

Feodor whipped his head around. The door had been opened, and someone had come in. Cold shivers ran down his back. He hadn’t heard or sensed anything. Why?

As question after question piled up without answers, Feodor fell into endless confusion.

“Ah–”

The round silhouette took out a cigarette from his breast pocket and placed it in his mouth. Striking a match against the wall, he lit it.

“I have to admit, I feel conflicted. I want to praise the ability and courage you had to sneak into this area, and the fact that one of my own men managed to pull it off makes me especially proud, but…”

Faint tobacco smoke wafted through the air, mixed with his calm, relaxed voice. For some insane reason, Feodor wondered if it was really okay to have an open flame in the room.

“I can’t very well overlook the things you’re doing, nor the things you plan to do.”

“Commander…” Feodor’s dry voice cracked. “Why… Why are you here?”

“Why? Because you’re here, Fourth Officer Feodor Jessman.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s what I meant.”

The First Officer advanced a step. Feodor drew back a step.

“I got someone to tail you this morning, but they lost track of you pretty quickly. I didn’t think you’d let yourself get caught easily, so I set a trap for you… never thought you’d be reckless enough to spring it the same day, though.”

So that was the presence he’d felt all morning through town. Feodor shuddered, thinking of how he’d been one step away from leading them straight to Giggir’s store.

“D-Did I make a mistake somewhere?” In a frenzy, his mind shot back to all the things he’d said and done. Yet, he couldn’t recall anything that seemed like a mistake. No explanation for how the First Officer had ended up here.

“Well, yeah. You did. A fatal mistake, quite unlike you.” Underneath his genial tone, the First Officer’s voice carried steel. “That’s why I’m here.”

“But… no, I didn’t–”

“Do you remember last night, when you heard that report? A building having been destroyed, and an explosion suspected as the cause? You didn’t seem particularly interested.”

“…Oh.” Comprehension dawned. 

“You weren’t surprised at all. It was like you thought it was perfectly normal for buildings to go and explode.”

That was definitely peculiar. After all, he had just reported that he’d been unable to find Lakish’s hiding place. In addition, he’d said in his report that he suspected she was hiding somewhere in the city.

And fairy soldiers could cause great destruction, explosions beyond anything gunpowder or steam pressure was capable of.

“You should have been able to connect an explosion of unknown origin to First Class Equivalent Soldier Lakish. But your lack of reaction showed that her location and safety had already been verified. Am I wrong?”

It was such a basic, rudimentary mistake that he couldn’t say anything to counter it. He hadn’t even realized it was a mistake until this very moment.

“…Maybe I just wasn’t perceptive enough to see the connection?”

“If you were anyone else, that unfortunately might’ve been possible. But, Fourth Officer Feodor Jessman, it’s impossible for you to have overlooked it.”

The Armado chuckled sadly. “You know, I watched you as you became an officer at such a young age. I thought you could smoothly rise through the ranks in the future. You were such a promising newcomer to the 5th Division. If the Winged Guard – if this world – still existed by the time I retired, I’d probably have left my position to you.”

“Commander…”

“I spent a lot of time dreaming of that future.”

Feodor was lost for words. He felt heat at the base of his eyes. For a reason unrelated to the darkness surrounding them, his vision blurred.

“I… have no excuse.”

He only just managed to force that much out of his throat.

“Excuse? For what?”

“I’ve betrayed your trust.”

“Oh, there’s no need to be sorry for that. You never tricked me to begin with.”

“What?”

“From the beginning, you were seriously considering Regul Aire’s future and seriously trying to make up for your brother’s mistakes. That’s why you joined the Winged Guard and ended up betraying it. You never betrayed yourself, and you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

The Armado shook his head sorrowfully. “Although… the fact that your story ends here is a shame indeed.”

“Ah–!”

Without being able to think of anything to say, Feodor bolted.

The Confidential Warehouse only has a single entrance. As long as the Commander’s blocking it, I won’t be able to escape without knocking him down, or darting out from around his side! The solid, heavy Armado seemed like a gigantic wall in front of him. But I should still be able to get by him!

A seasoned soldier was always observing things like their opponent’s center of gravity, gaze, and footwork to predict their next moves. That’s why mixing lies into the information they saw would throw off their movements. This kind of fighting, which took advantage of an enemy’s perception to turn the tables on them, was where Imps – or perhaps just Feodor as an individual – held undisputed superiority.

Feodor lowered his posture and made as if he was going to roll past the First Officer’s left foot. In actuality, it was a feint, and he’d jump over the Armado’s right shoulder – but that was also a deception. He would make the Armado wary of his left and right, while Feodor’s real intent was to break through with a head-on ramming attack. The differences in their physiques couldn’t be understated, but as long as he seized the opportunity when his opponent wasn’t expecting it, then he could break his posture and–

An impact.

The air in Feodor’s lungs escaped him in a violent gasp, mixed with saliva and vomit. His whole body buckled, and his vision flashed pure white.

He didn’t know what’d happened. Confused as he was, he could only comprehend the result: defeat.

“I’m surprised that you’ve never recognized your own unfortunate habit.”

The only thing he could hear clearly was that sad, somehow lonely voice whispering in his ear.

“You might like playing tricks, but when the stakes are high, you always decide on a frontal attack. When I understand that much, things like feints hardly matter.”

Feodor finally realized he’d been punched in the sternum, precisely above his heart. His breathing had stopped, his blood flow was disorganized, and now even his consciousness was slipping away from him.

“Your dream… ends here.”

The Armado brought down another heavy blow, this time directly upon Feodor’s unresisting head, and everything faded to black.

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Next -> Chapter 4 Part 1: The Resolute Mechanical Woman