Six months had finally passed since the start of the Far East Campaign. The flames of war showed no signs of abating, only spreading further with each passing day.
The conflict, which many had assumed would be quickly extinguished by the Kingdom's intervention, had devolved into a complete quagmire.
"Azure and Thunderclap... were both killed? At the same time?"
"Yes. According to the reports, the information is undeniable..."
The Special Selection Unit Astral had spent the last six months rotating through various battlefields. Naturally, they were always at the front; Astral existed solely to maintain and hold the most dangerous lines.
"I see... That is exceptionally bad news."
Henrick Fahrenheit processed the report. Communication sorcery had advanced to the point where, within a specific range, voices could be transmitted through Prima Materia. Even with such a sophisticated information relay system in place, this particular update was more than enough to shake him to his core.
His days were a blur, consumed by the relentless demands of commanding Astral. There was hardly a moment for rest. He managed a bit of sleep here and there, but only the absolute bare minimum required to function.
Flor, who had remained by Henrick’s side to support him, noticed the deep fatigue etched into his face. Yet, she knew she couldn’t stop him. The state of the front lines was simply too dire.
If one were to count only the number of casualties, the Kingdom Army might have technically held the advantage. The problem, however, was that the enemy launched attacks with a total disregard for their own lives, frequently resorting to suicide charges. Countless soldiers had met wretched ends in those explosions.
Astral's mission was to maintain the front while countering such tactics. While the soldiers in the trenches faced a hellish existence, Henrick, who orchestrated their movements from the rear, was exposed to a different kind of grueling pressure. In the Far East Campaign, there was no such thing as a safe or easy assignment.
Every person involved fought while suppressing their emotions, their spirits slowly being ground down.
Every day, Henrick was tormented by regret as the death tolls were read to him. Had he made the right choice? Was this strategy truly the best way? These questions haunted his every waking moment.
Age was a factor, but his hair had become noticeably whiter than before—a physical manifestation of the extreme stress he carried.
"Lieutenant Colonel..."
"Don't look at me like that. I’m all right."
Flor looked up at Henrick with worry in her eyes. Her hands were clasped tightly against her chest, and she was trembling.
Henrick reached out and gently stroked her hair.
"...Lieutenant Colonel. Please, do not push yourself too hard."
"That is a difficult request to grant. You understand the current state of the war, don't you? We are barely holding the lines by scattering the members of Astral across various units. And now, two of the Seven Grand Sorcerers have been killed. We have no intel on the enemy—only the staggering losses they left behind. To counter this, we have no choice but to take action ourselves."
"But... that's..."
Flor understood.
She had heard it before. If there was any force capable of fundamentally shifting the tide of this war, it could only be the Seven Grand Sorcerers.
Ice Sword Sorcerer—Lydia Ainsworth.
Absolute Blade Sorcerer—Bartolt Eisler.
Sorcerer of Fiction—Lieselotte Eden.
Sorcerer of Phosphorus Glow—Marius Bassett.
Sorcerer of Dual Wings—Françoise Claire.
Five members of the Seven Grand Sorcerers remained. Among them, only Lydia was a career soldier. The others were not; they had neither the obligation nor the duty to participate in the Far East Campaign. And yet, cooperation had already been secured.
Through Henrick's tireless efforts, the negotiations had somehow succeeded. However, in truth, the Seven Grand Sorcerers had all said the same thing when approached.
—The time has finally come.
Whether it was a premonition or some form of intuition, every one of them had agreed without hesitation.
The Seven Grand Sorcerers were a collection of eccentrics, each more difficult to handle than the last, and getting them to cooperate on anything was usually a monumental task. With the exception of the Sorcerer of Phosphorus Glow, Marius Bassett, they were largely considered oddities.
But now, the prospect of the Seven Grand Sorcerers descending upon the battlefield was about to become a reality.
"Having the Seven Grand Sorcerers join the fray will be a massive boost to our military strength. However... aren't some of them not exactly specialized in combat?"
"It's a reasonable doubt," Henrick replied. "But the world undervalues the Seven Grand Sorcerers. Even the citizens of our own Kingdom do."
"Un... undervalue them?"
"Precisely."
Flor found it hard to believe. She felt she held the Seven Grand Sorcerers in quite high regard. Yet it was a fact that not all of them were combat specialists; some were primarily researchers or educators.
"Mighty sorcery is not confined to the simple dimension of combat."
Henrick spoke while looking toward some distant horizon. He knew. He understood the true essence of what it meant to be one of the Seven. He was a sorcerer who had caught a glimpse of that truth himself, but he had hesitated to step across the threshold.
He had been afraid to move forward.
That was why Henrick spoke of them with a blend of profound respect and genuine awe.
"The dimension of combat...?"
"Yes. Once you reach the domain of the Seven Grand Sorcerers, the very nature of your sorcery changes. It can no longer be contained within the narrow definitions humans use, like 'combat' or 'research.'"
"But... Azure and Thunderclap..."
Exactly. Those two were already dead.
They had been brutally slaughtered, and their bodies had been recovered. Nothing changed the fact that the enemy possessed a force capable of murdering the Seven Grand Sorcerers.
If that was true, would the other five be any different?
Did they really possess the power to change the course of this war? Flor was genuinely terrified.
"I know. But because of that, we have no choice but to believe in them. Our job is to prepare a battlefield where they can fight at their full potential. Besides... perhaps this is all just a part of a cycle."
"I see... I suppose you're right."
Henrick continued to project an air of strength. It wasn't just a desperate show of bravado. While fatigue was certainly visible in his expression, he was driven by a clear, unwavering mission.
For the sake of the comrades who had already fallen, he had to keep fighting.
To Flor, Henrick looked radiant in his resolve.
"Flor."
Henrick suddenly used her name without any title. Usually, he addressed her as Captain, but in this moment, he called her Flor.
He used the name he only used when they were alone together in private.
There were those within Astral who had noticed their relationship—mostly Howard—but Henrick and Flor were indeed a couple. Despite the age gap, Flor had been the one to confess her feelings, and Henrick had accepted.
Of course, neither of them ever allowed their personal lives to bleed into their work.
Within the army, they were strictly Lieutenant Colonel and Captain. Yet, Henrick had spoken her name here, and it carried a specific, heavy meaning.
"Once this war is over, let's get married."
It was a bolt from the blue.
If she had to describe her current state, that was the only phrase that fit. Her face flushed a brilliant red, and she began to tremble. She had hoped to marry him eventually; they had been dating for five years, and considering their ages, it was a logical step.
But to say it here, in the middle of the Far East Campaign...
She couldn't believe her ears. But because of the circumstances, Flor understood the immense weight behind his words.
"W-Why... why now?"
"I wonder. But if a future with you is waiting for me on the other side of this war, I feel like I can keep fighting forever."
"You idiot... honestly, you’re such an idiot..."
"And your answer?"
"It’s a yes! You should know that much already!"
"...Thank you."
They leaned into each other.
The two shared a long embrace. Flor wept silently, overwhelmed by a rush of emotion, while Henrick held her close.
Neither had any guarantee they would make it back alive.
But that was precisely why they reached for a certain future. For the sake of what waited at the end, they could endure. No matter how close they came to breaking, they could keep moving forward.
After gazing into each other's eyes, they shared a gentle, lingering kiss. It was soft and filled with tenderness.
As if to etch the other's existence into their very souls, they remained in each other's arms.
Believing—that a certain future lay waiting for them.