The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 4: Dabit Deus His Quoque Finem

by Carlo Zen

  But that said, he couldn’t force them.

  Originally…a Commonwealth mage battalion unit was supposed to come along to support, but they failed to coordinate, so there was no unit that understood where he was coming from.

  It was like having to play a card game with a bad hand. Just unworkable.

  “Commander! I’ll ask again. Please at least have two companies climb to guard against the company at eight thousand.”

  “…Yankee 01 to Pirate 01. I’d appreciate if you’d leave your advice for us at that. Intercepting them with the disciplined fire of two battalions is surely far more useful than having two companies bend over backward.”

  The disgusted request to essentially knock it off made Drake want to throw in the towel. Do the Yankees really think they’re going to waltz in and scatter a bunch of mages who’ve a mind to try delaying combat at eight thousand? Dream on.

  Apologies to the unit leader, but even the marine mage unit I’m from was at the mercy of the Devil of the Rhine. The idea that these Yankees can put up a fight is just bollocks.

  But Drake was in an extremely tough spot, since all he could do was try to persuade him. The critical issue was that this interception had to happen right as he arrived at his new post. They barely knew each other, and Drake was painfully aware how useless it was to get into repetitive arguments before they even built up any trust.

  “Pirate 01, I respect your experience, but I’d like you to understand that we have our own doctrine and respect that.”

  I suppose this is what you’d call a proper lurch. I was dispatched to assist this less experienced commander, but he seems to take it like he’s been saddled with an unnecessary supervisor.

  Drake suppressed his urge to grumble and gave the situation some serious thought. His job was to keep the Yankee losses to a minimum. At this point, all he could do was wish for the Devil of the Rhine to go home.

  …The problem was the Devil of the Rhine was not only not attempting to withdraw but leading a company right toward them.

  The Yankees had decided their role was delaying combat—defense. Why don’t they understand that the enemy is coming over here to actively hunt us?

  The Devil of the Rhine is fast approaching. How can you talk so big about driving her off?

  “Pirate 01, roger. Please forgive my rudeness. But I’d like to request permission to take command in the event that you become incapacitated, just in case.”

  “Please,” Drake insisted, though he knew it wasn’t a very polite request. Even if the command structure was nominally the same, the voluntary army was, in fact, the regular Unified States Army. If he took command, the brass would throw a fit.

  “…If I get shot down, then go ahead.”

  “Thank you, Yankee 01.”

  “No need. But I have to record that you made such an offer… I don’t mean to bring your ability into question, but I imagine I’ll make a note that you don’t seem cut out to be a liaison officer.”

  “Understood.”

  But to Drake, it was a necessary measure for attaining the best of the rotten futures in a worst-case scenario.

  Drake had done his best.

  In his position, he had done everything within his power to keep losses low, so he didn’t have to fear reprimand or punishment. He had been faithful to his conscience.

  Which was why…

  “Th-the enemy company is still gaining altitude!”

  “What?! Nine thousand five hundred?”

  “A-assuming strike formation?!”

  “Prepare to intercept! Calm down! Don’t get taken in! Keep our advantage in mind! We can beat them with numbers!”

  Feeling ashamed, Drake had no choice but to accompany the Unified States mages on their charge into ruinous combat. He felt spineless, unable to shout at them to give up this idiotic endeavor.

  How helpless it felt to simply lack the ability to stop something from happening.

  “Prepare for disciplined fire! Pump these guys full of holes!”

  “Ready to fire!”

  The actions the Unified States mages took were perfectly neat and exactly according to training and the handbook. It was the best a unit with little live combat experience could do.

  But when Drake glanced at the enemy movements, he had to sigh.

  “…We’re not going to make it in time.”

  The enemy mages charging at them from above were literally higher status. At a glance, it appeared they were striking in a scattered way, but they kept tight in their two-man cells. How can they support one another so well diving from nine thousand five hundred at maximum combat speed?!

  Can disciplined fire even compete with…? Mid-thought, Drake’s eyes widened as he finally realized the Yankees’ fundamental error.

  In disciplined fire, unit members aren’t able to move freely. In a marine mage battalion, individual mages can adjust their spacing at their own discretion, but the soldiers in this Yankee Battalion were all cadets until just recently. For them, the directive to maintain fire discipline will cause them to hold their ground, which will be fatal.

  Holding their ground will mean sticking close together…

  “No!”

  Drake was about to order them to break, even if it meant overstepping his authority, but he was too late.

  “Commence firing!”

  With the unit leader’s order, the lines of fire shot out toward the enemy. They were astonishingly thin and feeble-looking for a force of two battalions. At that moment, Drake knew the enemy could infer the level of their training.

  The enemy company returned fire still in strike formation, but…instead of the optical formulas you would expect in a highly mobile battle, they used three rounds of simple explosion formulas, optimal for shock and damage. It should have been possible to laugh them off as an attack that would never connect, but for the bunched-up Yankee Battalion, it was a different story.

  The units’ internal communications filled with screams, and the panic rapidly swelled. To the commander and noncommissioned officers who were supposed to be calming them down, it was obvious everyone wanted to flee.

  “Shit! They took out a whole company with one attack! This is Pirate 01! It’s urgent. Yankee 01, Yankee 01! Please respond!”

  Trying to pull things back together, Drake called over the wireless, but he already knew.

  “…These bastards have cursed us! They made sure to decapitate with the first strike!”

  They took out the chain of command to turn this into a chaotic dogfight. Even among imperial mage units, the Devil of the Rhine’s was specialized in decapitation tactics.

  Vexingly, even if you know the logic of it, it’s a brutal move that is hard to defend against. If he glanced over, he could see the enemy company shredding the Yankee command structure to ribbons. The numeric advantage had been overturned like it was a joke.

  If he was to attempt to describe the company, he would say it seemed to move as a single colony of sheer force. Though they were his enemy, he had to applaud them. The charging imperial mages hurled out formulas freely, displaying their might unchallenged as if they were all organically connected.

  They were displaying skill he wasn’t sure if even his own unit of marine mages could pull off. But he couldn’t just stand there being impressed.

  After all, they were getting their arses kicked in present tense. Drake didn’t have the luxury of throwing out compliments.

  “Yankee Battalion, all units! This is Pirate 01! I’m deeming Yankee 01 incapacitated! I’m taking emergency command!”

  “Yankee 05 to Pirate 01, do you actually have any authority over us…?”

  Drake was about to protest God’s absurdity with all the words he could think of after such an obnoxious argument, but in the next moment, he was compelled to do the opposite.

  “Lloyd, you idiot! Shut the hell up!”

  There was still someone with a lick of sense. And he was higher ranking than the stubborn one. Drake wanted to praise
God for this blessing among his curses.

  “Yankee 03 to Pirate 01, roger that. What’s your plan?”

  “Our losses will be too big in a dogfight! Prepare to withdraw immediately!”

  “Understood. You got that, right? All units, we withdraw! A temporary withdrawal! We’ll take some distance and regroup! We can’t afford to lose any more of you for nothing!”

  Everyone was scattered, and the loss of their command chain had caused confusion. But…at the very least, we still have numbers. Escape should be manageable enough.

  “All commanders, have your troops fall back! Newbies, run for it! Vets and commanders, prepare for a fighting retreat! Let your new recruits escape!”

  That was all Drake could hope for under the circumstances.

  But the opposing side isn’t about to let that happen.

  “Commander, the enemy appears to be taking some distance!”

  “…I was planning on mocking them for their weakness, but they changed gears pretty fast. They’re quicker on their feet than I expected. I guess I misread them?” Tanya clicks her tongue and grumbles about how swiftly the enemy was able to regroup.

  Since their discipline was so lousy for a Commonwealth unit, she expected a training unit or second-stringers. But having actually engaged, she’s found that although they’re weak, their chain of command thinks surprisingly fast. Does that mean some vets or instructors are attached as support?

  “Major, what do you think we should do?”

  “We can’t pull out now! We’ll just have to make the fight even more chaotic. Latch on and don’t let go! If we allow them to take distance, then what was the point of coming in close?”

  It’s clear that despite her taking the initiative to swoop in and start a dogfight, the enemy is responding much more effectively. Almost none of them is hesitating about how to move… The simple decision to have the less trained mages flee and keeping the vets out as the rear guard is an optimal solution that reduces confusion.

  It seems unlikely that they’ll collapse out of shock and awe. Still, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion improvises by concentrating their fire on the fleeing rookies to increase the chaos as much as they can.

  It’s not a bad call…aside from the fact that Tanya, in the vanguard, has to take on the most troublesome enemy.

  “This is such a pain!”

  Clicking her tongue in frustration, she manages to get in a couple of direct hits as they accelerate past one another. Then, following fast on their heels, she gets the backs of the enemy mages in range as they try to escape.

  Tanya loads formula bullets to spray the careless mages with her submachine gun from a blind spot at an angle above them; they haven’t even realized she is there. The assumption that she can’t miss from so close turns out to be the beginning of her bad luck.

  An enemy magic officer, defensive shell at full power, zooms into her line of fire. That will to shield their subordinates is commendable, and after Tanya’s shots, the mages fire a few formulas in retaliation.

  Luckily, they’re shooting without really aiming, so she doesn’t have to actively deal with them, but missing her initial mark was still a mistake.

  “Ahhhhhh!”

  The wide-eyed target looks to their slowly falling officer, then at Tanya, and with a shudder of rage, they charge in a way that can only be described as obsessed.

  All she has on hand is a spent submachine gun. Meanwhile, the enemy mage coming at her with a battle cry has raised a magic blade.

  It’s a dopey rush, but annoyingly, it also presents a danger to Tanya. She can request support, but Serebryakov is on the ground supporting the package.

  Her subordinates are also split up in pursuit of other mages, so it doesn’t seem like she can rely on them as a source of nearby assistance. At this point, she’s stuck relying on herself in a hand-to-hand fight—which she hates. Tanya is about to manifest a magic blade even though it’s the last thing she wants to do, when she realizes something.

  “Agh, this reminds me of that one awful time!”

  When was that? What crosses her mind is that horrible experience where some apparent marine mages on direct support duty brought a fight into close quarters up in the Entente Alliance. Under the circumstances, getting into a bayonet fight would make it harder to move just by virtue of having someone riding her tail.

  Back then she resolved it with her bayonet, but letting past experience influence you too much is a bad move. Her submachine gun doesn’t have a bayonet anyhow, but she’s really not keen on getting into a serious fencing match either way.

  In that case… Having changed her mind, Tanya moves briskly. Promptly ejecting the empty magazine, she throws it at the enemy mage. The moment her opponent assumes a passive defensive position, unsure what the projectile is, Tanya grins: You’re mine.

  The mage is caught off guard when nothing happens and Tanya speeds up and charges, wielding the wooden butt of her gun—a bayonet drill trick.

  She sends her stock on an accelerated visit to the mage’s abdomen.

  “Guh…”

  Judging from the groan and the feeling in her hands, she’s definitely broken some bones. Any normal person would die right there…but apparently, it wasn’t quite enough against a mage with a defensive shell up. As she’s thinking what a pain close-quarters fights are, she finally makes out her opponent’s face.

  The agonized gasps for oxygen are higher pitched than she would expect.

  When she looks, she finds a young woman, not yet of age. Tanya somewhat regrets slamming the butt of her gun, wooden though it may be, into the woman’s abdomen.

  But it’s just the way of the battlefield.

  This would be the time to say, You shouldn’t have come here.

  Once you’re in your gear and out on the battlefield, there’s no difference between a man and a woman. Kill the enemy or be killed.

  Of course, Tanya’s unreserved personal opinion is that if there’s a provision for women and children, she wants it applied to herself.

  Okay, this hand-to-hand combat is a pain, but I’ll take some distance and… As she’s thinking this, Tanya finally realizes the serious impact that single blow had on her opponent.

  The enemy soldier gapes at the submachine gun Tanya thrust out at her.

  Such a change has come over her that it’s hard to imagine she was full of fighting spirit only a moment ago. It’s such a surprise that, for just a second, Tanya doesn’t understand what the other girl is doing. But experience doesn’t let her down. Though her mind hesitates, her body remembers what to do when the enemy stops moving.

  Tanya is so used to fighting that her arms and legs disregard her brain’s confusion; they know what to do—it’s simple: She slams in a fresh magazine and efficiently moves the first shot into the chamber.

  Even with a submachine gun’s bloom problems, at this distance an attack should connect even if you’re shaken or confused.

  “Good-bye, I guess?”

  “Y-y-you’re—!”

  Aiming at the enemy soldier who is saying some shit, she pulls the trigger. The rhythmic noises of the mechanisms and the shots themselves ring throughout the air, and a beat later, the bullets that connect pierce the mage’s protective film. But even though some of them smash into her defensive shell and bits of blood and flesh form a red flower blooming in the sky, it’s not enough.

  One look, with her experience, tells her it’s not fatal.

  “Tch, you’re a tough one.”

  I emptied a whole magazine and couldn’t fatally injure her. Is it because I underestimated her defensive shell? Or does this submachine gun just not pack that much punch? Clicking her tongue, Tanya takes some distance.

  “01, down and to your right!”

  At the same time, when she twists around according to her subordinate’s shout, she sees an enemy mage about to cast an optical sniping formula. Virtually by instinct, Tanya performs evasive maneuvers and checks out the rest of the area.

&nbs
p; “That’s enough! I won’t let you kill them! I won’t!”

  A solo enemy is approaching with a scream. Is the idea to assist in the escape by distracting me? Formula deployment speed is average, but the aim and density speak volumes about what a talented shot this mage is. I suppose the choice of an optical sniping formula is admirable under these circumstances, as well. Indeed, with the two sides mixed up in a dogfight, being worried about hitting the wrong person is the correct tactic. But… Tanya grins.

  But they’re fighting under different conditions. All Tanya has to do is take out the enemies, but the other one has to bend over backward to protect these two burdens.

  This officer is textbook perfect—overly so.

  After nimbly dodging, she counters immediately. She forms and casts an explosion formula with no hesitation. When she sees the blast swallow the enemy soldier trying to go for cover, she’s certain of the result. On top of losing the signature, the body is falling headfirst. The officer is definitely powerless.

  Tanya turns to set her sight back on the mage she didn’t get to finish off before, but she realizes she’s lost her target.

  Either she descended or fell, but…it didn’t feel like she had killed her. In fact, she was a better mage than Tanya had expected.

  “Tough and quick to run. I really wanted to finish her.”

  The main assumption you can make of a talented mage who survives the battlefield is that they make it back alive and gain experience; that’s only a matter of course.

  The fish that got away can grow to be unexpectedly big. Tanya has to admit that she feels regret—in all sorts of ways. What a waste.

  But she can feel bitter for only so long. So I couldn’t take her out—Tanya clicks her tongue—Guess I missed a point. She sighs and shakes her head.

  “We’re going down! Any longer than this and we’re stuck in a swamp. Prepare to pull out!”

  At that point, Tanya’s escaped prey had been shelved in her mind.

  It’s important to cut your losses.

  As a commander, Tanya can quickly switch gears to considering the status of her unit. At a glance, it seems her troops are still fighting hard…but anyhow, it’s an aerial battle. Aerial battles last only a few minutes and fatigue you so much more than you could ever imagine happening in a land battle. And fatigue rapidly increases the frequency of mistakes.