Sovereign of the Ashes

“You should find yourself a girlfriend. Aren’t you tired of being so serious all the time?” Charlie said with a grin.

Leaning against the hospital bed in the infirmary of the Federation’s rear base within the subspace secret realm, he supported himself with a crutch as Bond entered the ward to visit him.

In truth, Charlie had been in a terrible mood lately, his spirits sinking lower with each passing day.

Yet whenever they met, he always managed to force out a smile and tease Bond.

Bond, on the other hand, wore a perpetual scowl, as though someone owed him money.

Those who knew Bond well understood that he was not actually difficult to get along with. He had simply grown accustomed to hiding behind a cold exterior.

Under normal circumstances, Bond rarely let his guard down.

Only if someone looked closely enough could they occasionally glimpse his true nature.

Faced with Charlie’s teasing, Bond did not grow annoyed. He quietly set down the gifts he had brought.

They filled an entire leather suitcase—no small amount by any measure.

Among them, the most important items were several vials of restorative genetic serum and a thin black notebook filled with handwritten notes.

The genetic serum would accelerate Charlie’s recovery and strengthen his constitution.

The notebook contained Bond’s insights from years of cultivating the Black Merlot Civilization’s inner art.

This was likely to be Bond and Charlie’s final meeting for the foreseeable future.

No, perhaps this would be their final farewell altogether.

Who could say what the next moment of this Clash of Civilizations might bring? Bond himself could very well perish on this mission.

As fellow federal combatants who both held general-level ranks, the ward was devoid of excessive sentimentality.

Their farewell was simple and restrained. The only personal question Bond asked was, “What are your plans for the future?”

Charlie’s older brother had perished, reduced to ashes. Across the entire federation, it was nearly impossible for him to find another individual capable of achieving neural linkage with him.[1]

Charlie had reached his current status and earned the rank of major general through his mobile suit.

But without a mobile suit... what could he do now?

He certainly did not know how to command a fleet.

Once Charlie recovered, he probably had only two paths. Either he would spend the rest of his career working in logistics and settle into a life of mediocrity, or he would become a mobile suit instructor and train the next generation of pilots.

He could not possibly become a private again and start from scratch.

When Bond asked him about his plans, Charlie remained silent at first.

Only when Bond was about to leave did Charlie finally speak.

“I will probably go into logistics. The federation already has plenty of outstanding mobile suit instructors. They don’t need me.”

“My mobile suit career ended the day my brother fell in battle,” Charlie murmured, lowering his head.

Bond stepped forward and patted Charlie on the shoulder. “Mobile suits don’t necessarily require two pilots. Haven’t your mental capacities expanded significantly lately?

“The inner art I shared with you, along with my insights—study them carefully when you return. The federation still needs talents like you. I look forward to seeing you back on the battlefield one day.”

“As far as I know, much of the federation’s mobile suit manufacturing technology originates from the fallen Rosen Dynasty Civilization. Their mobile suit pilots operated solo, not in pairs,” he added.

Bond’s words lifted Charlie’s spirits considerably.

He gave Bond’s shoulder a firm thump and said, “Come back alive.”

“We’ll go to Lumiere. I’ll show you the sights and delicacies of my home,” Charlie said with a smile.

Bond nodded solemnly. “Sure.”

***

After bidding farewell to Charlie Robert, Bond assembled all the agents and special operations forces under his command and prepared to depart.

The decrypted space-time tunnel leading to the Black Merlot Civilization’s base could not accommodate large fleets or mobile suit legions, so the number of personnel deployed was limited.

In theory, this tunnel could lead them into the deepest recesses of this subspace secret realm.

Alongside the agents and special operations units, a small number of combat robots would also take part in the mission.

One of them was the partially repaired eight-winged angel, Fermera.

Bond only saw Fermera on the eve of departure.

Since Fermera was merely a machine and not a living being in Bond’s eyes, he had only met her once before, solely to retrieve visual data. After that, he had not seen her again.

After just over two years apart, Fermera had changed significantly.

Her once-charred and blackened face, exposed metal skeletal frame, and wiring had all been restored during this period.

Moreover, her facial features now closely resembled her former appearance.

Frontline repair conditions were nowhere near as advanced as those in the rear laboratories.

Achieving this level of restoration under such constraints was no small feat.

“Do robots care about their looks?” An absurd thought flashed through Bond’s mind the moment he saw her.

In his understanding, combat robots like Fermera would usually have spent the past two years prioritizing the repair of their weapons and combat systems.

Appearance should have been the last concern.

Even if Fermera had remained in her previous, badly damaged and unsightly state, as long as her weapons and combat capabilities were restored, she would still have been a formidable presence.

During their earlier exploration of the Black Merlot Civilization ruins, Fermera had suffered serious damage.

At the time, she had also focused solely on restoring her most critical weapons and energy systems.

Bond even remembered spending nearly three years in a Black Merlot Civilization cavern alongside Fermera, who had walked around with her unsightly metal head the entire time.

Now, restored to her angelic form, Fermera looked nothing like a robot.

She was truly one of the masterpieces crafted by Syphen, the federation’s renowned angel robotics expert.

Seeing Fermera standing before him felt like he was seeing a real angel of the Radiant Celestials.

Two of her shattered metal wings had been mostly repaired. In her current state, Fermera was more accurately described as a “six-winged angel”.

Alongside Fermera, nearly twenty thousand angel-type robots were also taking part in the expedition.

Given the limited number of agents under Bond’s command, the primary support for the exploration would come from these angel robots, all equipped with information-recording systems and anomalous energy detection capabilities.

“Long time no see. How’s your recovery going?” Bond greeted Fermera out of the blue.

He had no idea why he had done it. Perhaps, without realizing it, he could no longer regard Fermera as a mere unthinking machine.

Something about her had changed, but he could not quite put his finger on it.

He had a feeling he was overlooking something important, but with the upcoming mission and responsibilities weighing on him, there was no time to dwell on it.

Fermera turned her head stiffly toward him, and the illusion of lifelike grace vanished at once. Bond wondered if her neck injury had not yet fully healed.

Her slightly cold eyes met Bond’s, but she offered no reply.

The awkward moment drew a few curious glances from the agents around him.

Greeting and attempting conversation with a robot probably made Bond look a little unhinged.

As a combat-type angel robot, it was unclear whether Fermera’s programming even included preset responses to such questions.

A domestic or pleasure robot might have.

Perhaps noticing the strange looks from his team, Bond cleared his throat and declared, “Let’s move out.”

An elliptical spatial vortex materialized directly in front of Bond and his group.

Bond stepped through first, followed by the sizable assault squad, which filed in after him in single file.

Their destination within the subspace was a Black Merlot Civilization ruin located deep inside territory occupied by the Gallant Federation.

1. Author’s Note: The brain interconnection and linkage theory developed by the Gallant Federation typically required twin brothers or father-and-son pairs. For other mobile suit pilot pairings, the success rate falls below 0.03%. ☜