The wreckage I’d left in the infrastructure had a direct, painful impact on my workload. Specifically, it had buried me in incident reports.
Why is it that the elite members of the Imperial Guard can’t write their own reports? The answer is actually quite simple.
We’re supposed to have administrative staff! Normally!
Thomas’s squad used to have employees who specialized in paperwork. But the fallout from purging the Duke Association and the traitorous civil officials had rippled all the way down to us. A country really does fall into disarray the moment you run out of office clerks, doesn't it? Hahaha!
There are moments when I hate paperwork so much that I seriously contemplate deserting. I truly wonder why people in the civilian world actually aspire to be administrative staff.
Regardless, I had to submit the documents. I nearly buckled under the mountain of letters of apology, but I held my ground, bolstered by Fairy-san’s passionate sentiment: “If you run away, I’ll report you immediately.”
Anyway, the destruction of the infrastructure itself wasn't the problem. I wasn't the one who had to clean it up or fix it. My job was simply to provide the reports and a letter of apology that basically said, “Thomas sends his regrets—or rather, Thomas says he’s sowwy.”
It wasn't like it was my fault, anyway. Nuhahahaha! The military brass wouldn’t be able to judge Thomas. I just prayed it wouldn't lead to another coup d'état.
Naturally, the conversation eventually turned to the invisible Zork we’d captured. Scholars were currently busy scavenging for fragments of the Zork we’d blown up with a missile, but the one we’d caught alive had been turned into an experimental subject.
Whether it used optical camouflage or literal transparency, I didn't know. Either way, it was an incredibly valuable specimen for studying the Zork species.
By the way, Kevin is also technically a Zork. Apparently, the idea of dissecting him came up, but the topic vanished the moment Wifey flew into a rage. Typical Imperial scientists—zero ethics! I’ll kill them all someday.
However, they did mandate periodic and thorough health checkups for him. Once a month, he had to be admitted to the hospital for two days and one night. This couldn't be helped; even with Wifey’s authority, she couldn't block it if they claimed it was “for the subject's own health.” Even her threat of “You’ll make Leo Kamishiro your personal enemy” didn't work.
While Wifey was fuming over that, the military restored Kevin’s citizenship as a placating measure. The logic was that a Second Lieutenant should obviously have citizenship. As long as we used human rights as a shield, Kevin wouldn't be dissected. For now, at least. If things ever got truly dangerous, Fairy-san planned to crash every system in the Empire to give us a window to escape under the cover of night. We’d probably just go into hiding in Nina-san’s hometown; they’d never find us there.
Setting Kevin aside, we got the report on the enemy. To put it simply: the enemy was human.
I know that sounds insane, but it wasn’t a bear or a monkey—it was a human. The DNA testing revealed it was one of the missing Grand Chamberlain’s associates. In short, the Grand Chamberlain and his merry band of followers were nothing more than lab rats to the Zork.
I really wish the world would stop turning into a hellscape every time I’m not looking.
We finally finished our training... or so I thought, until Edge, Alyssa, and I were told to stay behind. Apparently, we had more training with someone from the Special Forces. I was grumbling about how much I hated the idea, but it turned out to be a classroom lecture.
The instructor was a man in his forties. A Major, if I recalled his rank correctly. With specialists, rank doesn't always tell you how much weight they carry. You only really know someone is at the top of their department once they hit Brigadier General.
The instructor began his lecture.
“Edge-kun, you’re an ordinary Esper, aren't you?”
That felt like a bit of a prickly way to put it.
“Sir! I have an aptitude for Pyrokinesis and Psychokinesis!” Edge answered energetically. He was a precious “good boy” in our squad, where most of us tended to be cynical.
“Compared to Edge-kun,” the Major continued, “you two are abnormal.”
“Well, yeah,” Alyssa chimed in. “We’re just attackers with nothing but support abilities.”
Such was the fate of a Jester.
“Captain,” the Major said, looking at me. “In actual combat, which is stronger: the ability to create a massive flame, or an ability that makes it so attacks never hit you?”
“Probably the one where you don’t get hit?”
“And you two can grant that to every single one of your allies.”
“Huh.” I knew that already, but hearing it put so bluntly made me realize how broken it sounded. No matter how you looked at it, that was an ability meant for a strategy game, not an RPG.
“Now then. About that simulator your squad developed...”
“Ah, that thing. We can’t seem to make any progress once the Linear Blazers start spawning.” I felt like we were so close, though. If only we could dodge just a bit more, or if our coordination was just a bit more perfect...
“Listen to me!” the Major barked. “Try to realize how insane it is to be fighting for thirty minutes in a simulator where the average survival time is thirty seconds! We know how useful that program is, but we can't formally deploy it because nobody else can replicate what you’re doing!”
“Well, you can move forward if everyone faithfully executes a textbook strategy while simply not getting hit by any attacks,” I said with a sharp look.
Oops. I accidentally gave him the walkthrough.
“We can’t! Even Prince Thomas’s squad was wiped out in a single minute! I tried it myself and died in thirty seconds solo!”
“Wait, if it’s solo, shouldn't any decent humanoid fighter pilot be able to clear it?” If you’re alone, it’s no big deal as long as you don't get hit. There’s only one Linear Blazer to worry about, too.
“The conclusion we reached is that your abilities are what make it possible. The military now regards Jesters as decisive weapons and is currently pouring a massive budget into searching for more of them.”
“I see...”
“However, the search for other Jesters has run into complications.”
“Really? I figured they’d be multiplying like crazy, like crawfish that escaped from a pond.” Or like rainbow trout. That’s the vibe I got from our kind.
“...We can’t find them. We can only find them in your immediate vicinity!”
“What? Not even among my relatives?” I didn't have many, but surely...
“None!”
“What about my brothers? Like, Big Brother Sam?”
“He has the aptitude, but his power is far too weak.”
“No way. Why?” And here I thought Jesters were supposed to have high vitality.
“We’ve hypothesized that you two are the exceptions. Therefore, we are launching a hundred-year plan. First, Captain Leo. We’re going to have you form a harem.”
“Well, at least you’ve improved since the last guy who just wanted to talk about artificial insemination.”
“If we tried that, you’d just crash the Empire’s servers and disappear, wouldn't you?”
“I won't deny that.”
“Um, Mr. Instructor!” Alyssa raised her hand. “What about me?”
“I’d like you to give birth to at least four children. This is a request.”
Alyssa looked at Edge and blushed, squealing, “Oh, my! ♪”
Edge, meanwhile, kept a perfectly cool face. Man, what composure. As someone who was currently being made to wait for his own satisfaction, I really needed to learn a thing or two from him.
“I see. So if it’s a guy, you just have him increase the numbers. It’s easier to scale up from a man, after all.” Men can just scatter it around without a care, I suppose.
“Exactly. It is strictly a humanitarian ‘request.’ We’ll even provide the funding.”
I thought it sounded like a ridiculously long-term project, but the military brass seemed dead serious about it. And so, amid this chaotic conversation, our training finally came to an end.