Chapter 55

Information came from the terminal that Ben Yian had been injured. He heard that residents happened to be outside in the south and ran into some trouble, but Ben Yian lacked experience, which led to some casualties.

Immediately, Horne received a terminal message from Bai Yin: [Hero Major, I’ve already handled the danger in the south for your friend. Do you want to thank me?]

Horne: [Thanks.]

Bai Yin: [You’re welcome. Humans only remember the value of heroes at the last moment.]

Horne: [……]

Horne returned to the Command Room and said nothing the whole time. He watched as they came back, watched the doctor treat Ben Yian’s wounds, watched Wen Yu tell Ben Yian how he should have handled that situation just now. Not long after, Han Ya also returned after dealing with the aftermath of the casualties.

As soon as Han Ya came back, the whole space grew noisy. He started grumbling and cursing whether the Aliens were out of their minds, then said Ben Yian had made a low-level mistake. Wen Yu smoothed things over between the two.

These voices sounded muffled and hazy in Horne’s mind, like they were separated by a layer of fog. He was absent-minded, propping his head up with his hand, his gaze drifting over the training ground outside the window. He thought about what General Leon had told him. Han Ya called him several times, but he didn’t respond.

“Horne!” Han Ya slapped the table.

Horne snapped back to attention, lowered his hand, and met Han Ya’s fuming expression in surprise. He scanned the room and only then realized the doctor had already left, Ben Yian’s wounds had been treated, and the three others in the Command Room were all looking at him.

“What are you thinking about? I called you a hundred times.” Han Ya leaned close to Horne, who immediately pushed him away.

This only made Han Ya more curious: “What’s wrong? Your body’s back in the Command Room, but your soul’s still in prison?”

Horne ignored him and looked toward Ben Yian on the sofa.

Ben Yian noticed Horne’s gaze and turned his head away, avoiding his questioning look.

It was his first real attempt to go out with soldiers from the outer district to face the Aliens, and he had made an idiotic mistake that led to unnecessary casualties. He had been harshly criticizing himself the whole way back, not knowing how Horne would view him.

Horne was just about to speak when Ben Yian cut in first: “Sorry, it was my oversight. I can accept punishment.”

Horne froze for a moment, mouth agape and speechless for a while before he said helplessly, “I just wanted to ask if your wounds are serious?” It wasn’t even a particularly serious issue to begin with; he hadn’t planned to ask, especially since Han Ya had already handled everything.

Ben Yian also froze. For a moment, three pairs of eyes stared at him. He touched his hair awkwardly and said, “N-No, it’s nothing.” He felt that sometimes, trying too hard to do well ended up making everything worse.

“Don’t rush it,” Wen Yu said slowly. “Achievements aren’t made in a single moment.”

Ben Yian felt even more embarrassed. He often felt like Wen Yu could read minds.

“As long as it’s nothing serious.” Horne sat up straight, his expression turning serious again as he moved away from the topic. “Alright, I have something to tell you all.”

—The government had decided to cut military supplies.

Horne simply recounted his conversation with General Leon.

“What does this mean?” Han Ya slapped the table again. “No way. Supplies have been normal for so many years. What does it mean to suddenly cut them?”

Horne lowered his eyes to his fingers, slowly rubbing them together, clenching and then releasing.

After a moment of silence, he said, “The general said it’s the government’s decision. They say democracy comes first now, defense is the priority, reduce active strikes. The cut portion of supplies means we should focus our attention on Loch City’s defense as much as possible.”

“No way?” Han Ya couldn’t comprehend it. “Those old geezers, have they gone mad? What era is this?”

Wen Yu thought for a moment and frowned. “Horne, I think something’s off.”

For the past decade or so, the Aliens’ attacks and invasions had never stopped. They launched offensives almost every day or every other day, and the Military District didn’t have much time to react with proactive strikes.

Starting two years ago, when Horne took charge of dealing with the Aliens, the number of invasions gradually decreased. It was unclear if they had reduced them on purpose or if Horne’s extermination-style offensives had made them wary. Gradually, they sometimes came only once a week, or every ten days or half a month. The longest stretch had been a full month without incident.

Some attributed this to Horne.

Because of that, humans had more time to recuperate. Offensives became proactive—they didn’t wait for the Aliens to approach Loch City but struck north instead. This did put some pressure on supplies.

Horne figured that killing one more Alien made Loch City a bit safer, and one day they could wipe them out completely. Plus, it was personal.

But keeping the military in check offered no benefit to the government. No matter what they did, it was for humanity’s last city, for all of humanity. Their goals should align.

Horne looked at the terminal, where his recent supply request had been rejected. His irritation built layer by layer.

—Plan unreasonable, excessive expenditure.

But his request was the same as usual; he hadn’t deliberately asked for more.

When General Al and General Yaro were in charge, there was no such process. Military supplies didn’t need government approval because safety came first. Everything else was just for basic survival, and military needs took priority.

This also created a situation where most military decisions could bypass the government or proceed alongside it.

After General Leon took over, the government revoked the military’s independent supply allocation authority. Now they all had to apply.

And now, the government was using supplies meant for city defense to improve life quality inside the city. This implied they accepted that as long as Horne didn’t strike proactively, the Aliens would maintain low-frequency invasions.

Wen Yu asked, “How much of a cut?”

Horne answered, “20%.”

Wen Yu pondered. “In other words, the government wants us to focus our anti-Alien measures on defense.”

Ben Yian had just been injured by Aliens, and this news made him uncomfortable. “This new policy gives me the feeling that the Aliens are almost wiped out?”

“I feel like the government is deliberately restricting the military’s power.” Wen Yu pointed out. “And…”

She stopped midway, and combining it with Ben Yian’s previous words, her expression suddenly changed.

At the same time, Horne thought of the same possibility.

Han Ya’s gaze swept back and forth between them. A few seconds later, he reacted, mouth agape in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding. They’re not really going to research the Immortality Particle, are they? Does that thing even exist?”

Horne could only think of this reason. The government wanted to research human-Alien gene fusion. First, the long war had worn people out. Second, such fusion could “prolong life,” accelerate wound healing, and so on—all just theoretical.

This would require massive funding and negotiations with the Aliens. If someone secretly contacted them without anyone knowing and even achieved cooperation, the invasions could be controlled.

Of course, they could cut part of the Military District’s funding and shift to just building defenses.

But Horne absolutely would not allow this to happen, and there wouldn’t be few people on his side.

“I’ve felt off about that General Leon since he took power.” Han Ya said. “He seems like someone the government sent to keep us in check, but…”

He thought of the conference room incident not long ago, when General Leon punished Horne.

“…That time you left your post without permission, his punishment for you was very light. He seemed to be protecting you.”

Horne suddenly heard his own heartbeat pause. His mind cleared a bit. He recalled what Wen Yu had said not long ago—You Wangwang had been so serious about proposing suspension, but the general brushed it off lightly.

Wen Yu looked at him and voiced his guess. “Horne, if you had been suspended back then, others would think you made a mistake. But you were the first to mess up, Matthew was the one suspended, and he died. The nature of the incident changes.”

She looked at Horne and said word by word, “Matthew’s dead—dead men tell no tales. The residents will suspect you.”

The light-handed punishment for Horne made it seem like his superiors valued him greatly.

Horne stood up. “I’ll go ask.”

“Horne,” Wen Yu stopped him. “Don’t be impulsive.”

Horne sat back down.

Wen Yu held back the two of them, her tone calm. “If this is the government suppressing the military, we can’t act rashly. If it’s targeted at you, be careful. If they’re really going to research the Aliens, or reopen peace talks with them, or study gene fusion, we can’t speak out carelessly. From the Aliens’ appearance until now, only this one city remains, guarded by the military and government. We’re the residents’—even all humanity’s—backbone. Stirring up too much public opinion on uncertain matters could lead to internal troubles and external threats.”

“What did Bai Yin say?” Han Ya asked.

Horne answered, “I don’t know.”

Silence fell. Sounds of training on the open ground outside drifted in, grating on Horne’s nerves.

“No matter what, I’ll be by your side.” Ben Yian said. He gazed firmly at Horne, never shifting his sight.

The military had always upheld the stance of exterminating the Aliens. These people outside endured agonizing daily training because of that belief, learning all sorts of ways to fight the Aliens. What they wanted was just peace and tranquility, without constant fear.

Those fervent shouts continued from the blue skies and white clouds into the deep night.

That evening, Horne went to Ben Yian’s home to pick up Hels.

He thought the kid might be less vigilant by now, but Ben Yian’s feedback was that the child still wouldn’t let anyone approach. Getting even a little close would make him go berserk with attacks.

Horne felt there was no solution.

He submitted another supply request via the terminal. This time, the rejection from the general came even faster—within a few hours.

—Civilian needs take priority. Please plan supplies reasonably.

Horne: [Life in the city is normal. Where did the cut funding go?]

—Check the terminal announcement.

The announcement listed some supply destinations.

Horne: [My previous request exceeded the budget. That portion can be withdrawn. Requesting the return of the extra 20% cut.]

No reply.

Bai Yin: [Our Air Force Zone doesn’t have ambitions as big as Hero Major’s. Cuts or no cuts make no difference to us. No comment.]

Horne irritably punched the coffee table. The kid curled up on the sofa nearby jumped in fright.

If he couldn’t lead troops in large-scale raids on Alien nests, the chances of catching Mao Mao grew even slimmer. Originally, extermination and grabbing Mao Mao weren’t conflicting goals. Now, with the government cutting supplies, the general blocking requests, and controlling their outings from the city, it was almost like grinding away his chance for revenge.

He didn’t understand. Horne closed the terminal, sighed, and set those thoughts aside for now. He took out paper and pen from the drawer and spread them on the coffee table.

The lamp glowed warmly. The house was quiet and peaceful, the temperature just right. Only here could the outside world be temporarily shut out. Horne relaxed.

“Hels, come here.” Horne called softly, his voice gentler. “About that promise I made you before.”