I Aggressively Stack Steel of the Heart in the Knight Order

Radiant Calendar, year 1462, March.

The Verne Star System front line. Onboard the Iberian Glory.

Fierce broadsides, like scattered firework embers, flickered on and off in the deep, dark expanse of space.

Even though the flagship was as massive as an asteroid, within the vastness of the star system—a space measured in astronomical units and spanning over ten billion kilometers—it was still as insignificant as a lone skiff on a dark sea.

Grayish-white light cast down upon the grand, massive bridge leading to the command center.

The stench of gunpowder from the fires of war filled the dust-filled air.

Administrative District Guards stood post every three hundred meters, like statues forged from steel, lining both sides of the bridge.

As the sound of heavy footsteps echoed across the vast bridge, the people walking on the side paths—Military Affairs Department Clerks, Technician Priests, high-ranking officers of the Infantry Legion... all of them, personnel who busily hurried between the command center and the war zone to request support or supplies for the front line, couldn’t help but stop and look back.

In the dim, metallic-gray light, they saw a towering, powerfully built Imperial Knight in deep black armor, a giant War Axe secured to his back.

This individual completely ignored the rules set by the Iberian Glory for traversing the bridge.

He strode brazenly down the very center, on the main thoroughfare reserved only for reporting urgent military intelligence or welcoming VIPs on the level of a Mechanical Sage.

His strides were long and powerful, his presence overwhelming.

Every step he took on the steel-cast main thoroughfare of the bridge produced a dull thud of metal on metal.

Behind him and to his left was an Imperial Knight in dark red-painted Power Armor, a man who was half a head taller than even the one leading the way.

The one on his right wore Power Armor with the markings of the Ash Guard, the most common style seen on the Iberian Glory’s command bridge.

Even though they had restrained the aura of their Knight Power, the Knightly Aura emanating from the Emperor’s Angel in the lead still weighed heavily on the personnel on both sides of the bridge, causing them to break out in a cold sweat.

They all wondered who this great personage at the front was.

But they had never seen his Power Armor’s paint scheme or Battle Group emblem before.

Watching the three lords’ retreating figures, a young Clerk from the Military Affairs Department grew curious. ”Could they be from one of the Knight Warlords that recently joined the Administrative Region?” he asked his colleague. ”But I’ve never heard of them.”

His colleague was clearly more knowledgeable. Her fine brows furrowed, her expression one of utter shock.

”That flaming Battle Group emblem... the Red Flame Son? Why would they be in the Administrative Region’s territory? That’s impossible. The Dragon Hunter’s defense sector is so far from here...”

”What’s the Red Flame Son? Another Imperial Battle Group?”

His colleague shot him a look, her expression one of exasperation. ”If Lord Philos were here, you’d be in for it.”

”You absolutely cannot tell Lord Philos about this... Saran! Wait for me!”

The Command Bridge.

As the supreme command post for the Verne War Zone, this office complex was as vast as a palace. It contained over ten thousand individual offices alone, forming a cluster of buildings like a small town.

Mountains of reports were everywhere one looked. As far as the eye could see, countless Clerks, drenched in sweat, toiled endlessly among the stacks.

Even the steel-plated floors had been worn down by the constant foot traffic of so many people, the textured patterns polished smooth as a mirror.

To these overwhelmed Mortals, some of whom hadn’t slept in three days, who entered the command bridge or what status and power they held was of no concern.

They only knew that if they didn’t process the military affairs in their hands as quickly as possible, God only knew how many more people would die on the front line.

To them on the command bridge, a delay in military affairs might just be five minutes. But for the front line, the consequence for a hundred-thousand-strong Defense Army corps could be getting completely swallowed by the Imperial Rebel Army.

However, when Reinhardt and his two companions walked into the command bridge, someone still came to receive them.

It was a champion of the Ash Guard Battle Group who served as the Grand Governor’s Personal Guard, a warrior with the power of a Five-star Earth Military Rank.

Upon seeing this Ash Guard, whose voice sounded like it was coming from inside a tin can, Bach’s attitude was one of deep reverence. ”Lord Sears.”

The latter gave him a slight nod, then turned to Reinhardt and said in a low voice, ”Grand Governor Sedon is waiting for you. Follow me.”

When a Knight draped in glory and battle honors returns to his homeland, he should be met with flowers, red carpets, and cheering crowds. It is the honor they deserve.

But all Reinhardt received was a short, terse military order from Sedon, a cold and oppressive Steel Bridge, and a command bridge so busy the very air was thick with exhaustion.

Not a single member of the Vengeance Angel Squad was present.

Even the Radiant Angels he had risked his life to save were nowhere to be seen.

Only a single champion from the Ash Guard Battle Group was there to greet him.

「One week ago.」

The Seventh Fleet was ordered to alter its patrol route, temporarily canceling its ”shore leave cruise” for crew replenishment and demanding they proceed immediately to the Verne Front Line.

Reinhardt and his men were required to travel with the fleet and were forbidden from leaving on their own. Upon arriving at Verne, they were to report immediately to the Iberian Glory to meet with the Grand Governor.

This sudden change of course was clearly Sedon’s way of guarding against the potential risk of a rebellion from the Red Flame Son. Fedor, the leader of the Red Flame Son, was well aware of this.

However, Sedon had to withstand the fierce onslaught of the Imperial Rebel Army and the Demon Army on the front, deal with Grand Lord Kles’s relentless infiltration from the rear, and manage an internal power struggle with opposition forces that had become a matter of life and death.

As the Grand Governor of the Administrative Region, Sedon had to firmly crush any possibility of a rebellion from the Red Flame Son in its cradle.

Neither he nor Reinhardt personally could afford to take such a risk.

The three hundred worlds of the Administrative Region could bear such a potential crisis even less.

As for Reinhardt’s return, how could a natural-born politician like Sedon possibly ignore a tool as effective for winning hearts and minds as a welcome ceremony?

If this were a time of peace, he wouldn’t have minded doing so—in fact, he would have done it with great fanfare.

Unfortunately, Raphael and his Caster Battle Group were mired in the defense of Verne’s Stereoscopic City. Forget pulling away to see Reinhardt; even finding five minutes to close their eyes for a quick nap was an extravagance.

Matthias and Manon were in the Golden Capital, assisting Lady Catherine. In just over a year, they had helped suppress more than three hundred rebellions and pirate attacks, both large and small.

They couldn’t get away for even a quarter of an hour.

In fact, just three hours ago, he had received a report from the Golden Capital that a group of Interstellar Pirates, evidently funded by Grand Lord Kles, had plundered a tax ship.

Matthias was personally leading a boarding party to try and retake control of the vessel.

Albert and Agate were still on Aquitaine World. As for whether that Radiant Angel was dead or alive, the Mechanical Order was still strictly blockading any information.

Most importantly, all these people had clamored to come to the Iberian Glory to welcome Reinhardt, but he had denied all their requests.

Or rather, for Emperor’s Angels who had reached their position and possessed their level of power, the substance of a victory celebration far outweighed its flashy form.

As long as they could withstand the pressure and win the great war on the Verne Front Line, they could hold as many victory banquets and welcome ceremonies as they wanted, however they wanted.

Before seeing Reinhardt, Sedon had believed all of this to be right and proper.

But when he, buried in his work and wrapped in thick layers of gauze, finally saw Reinhardt, it would be a lie to say his heart wasn’t stirred.

Compared to the calm he had expected to feel, it was clear that upon seeing Reinhardt return alive, Sedon, for the first time, felt a slight pang of regret for the decision he had made.

But all these feelings coalesced into a single action. Sedon simply put down his pen, braced his hands on the desk, and looked up with a grim expression. ”Welcome back, Reinhardt,” he said coldly.