Clang!
The rail train marked as a military convoy finally arrived at the Salamanders Conquered World—Tourist World No.11, District 11, Tokyo Ground-to-Orbit Space Elevator Terminal. Track staff who had long been waiting, along with patrol robots and servitor AIs, strode quickly across the platform deck.
Spotlights shone down from every direction onto the bright platform. Around the various signboards echoed the arrival announcement for the Eleventh Regiment's homecoming personnel train, the inorganic electronic voice repeating again and again.
Screech—
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
As the rail train's valves opened, a tide of hard-soled military boots struck the ground in unison. The soldiers of the Eleventh Regiment of the Servitor Army under the Astartes Eighteenth Legion Salamanders, clad in brand-new uniforms and carrying simple arms, made not a single unnecessary sound. Their movements quickly synchronized into one rhythm.
Even though their families were waiting just beyond the platform, even though their hearts yearned to fly home and they could hardly wait to see their loved ones again, this was military law. Orders were absolute. Without an official dismissal command, they remained in barracks status—no movement permitted.
The Imperial Servitor Army possessed neither the grand war machines operated by the Imperial Navy nor the inhuman individual strength of the Astartes warriors.
Their treatment could not compare to that of the Astartes. Compared to the Imperial Auxilia, they were practically the neglected stepchildren.
The former were directly under the Imperial Ministry of War—uniform training, uniform standards, uniform organization, uniform benefits and treatment. The latter were assigned by various Astartes Legions. Their uniforms and equipment varied wildly, depending entirely on how much importance their parent Legion placed on them and on local manufacturing, with only a small portion supplemented by forge worlds.
Yet even so, this was the Imperial Servitor Army. The reason they stood alongside the Astartes Legions, the Imperial Auxilia, and the Imperial Navy was discipline—absolute obedience, iron discipline.
Within this system, any objection could be submitted privately in a report. It was not entirely without humanity. But to openly defy a superior officer? Summary execution would not be excessive. In Japanese light novels, hot-blooded shounen manga, or melodramatic military romance dramas, that kind of indignant rebellion and explosive display of spirit would earn nothing but body bag here.
One word: punishment.
It depended on the temperament of your direct superior. If you were lucky—confinement, flogging, or caning. If you encountered someone fiery and resolute, you might simply be shot on the spot.
From each carriage, uniformed soldiers flowed into formation like streams merging into the sea. In an extremely short time, they aligned and synchronized. Along the broad platform corridor, they marched in orderly ranks, shoulder to shoulder, their synchronized footsteps echoing through the station.
Beyond the rail platform stood gleaming granite pillars supporting a circular dome of glass and alloy steel. At this moment, the spacious and brightly lit waiting hall was packed with people.
Great banners symbolizing victory hung beneath carved reliefs. Under the silent gaze of a towering statue of a Salamanders warrior standing with warhammer in hand, men and women, old and young, gathered by family units—parents waiting for their children, wives for their husbands, younger sisters and brothers for their elder siblings.
"Mom, do you think Big Bro will still recognize us? Will his personality be the same as before—or totally different? They say after... after killing people, after going through war, there can be stress disorders and stuff..."
Holding a sign that read "Hikigaya," the girl was strikingly pretty. Her skin glowed with the freshness of youth, her bright dark eyes and cherry-red lips full of vitality. Her black hair was cut in a medium-short style. No matter how one looked at her, she was an adorable, energetic high school girl.
Yet at this moment, she seemed a little uneasy.
"Seriously, who knows what got into him? Yelling about fulfilling a man's ultimate dream, and he just ran off to enlist. And he passed on the first try. Wasn't he still in high school back then?"
"Haha. So, Komachi, it seems you really are worried about your brother. Even though you're always sarcastic and teasing him, you still came today, didn't you?"
Beside her, Mrs. Hikigaya—also black-haired, with the family's trademark stray ahoge—smiled gently. Wearing black-framed glasses, she looked dignified and refined.
"Hah?! If he dares not to recognize his own sister and mother, I'll break his legs!"
Mr. Hikigaya, dressed in a suit, of medium build and sporting a bit of stubble, placed one rough hand atop his daughter's head while his other arm wrapped around his wife. Though he spoke gruffly, the worry in his eyes as a father required no description.
"Hehe, Dad, the current Big Bro... you probably can't beat him anymore. Who punches who isn't so certain now."
Holding the sign in one hand, Komachi Hikigaya made a playful gesture beside her forehead, sticking out her tongue to reveal cute little fangs as she laughed, mercilessly exposing her father.
Interestingly enough, before the world-shaking changes, the Hikigaya household hierarchy had always been Mom > Komachi > Dad > Hachiman. After Hikigaya Hachiman left to pursue dreams and fortune for the family, Mr. Hikigaya had enjoyed several years at the very bottom of the domestic ladder.
"He wouldn't dare!" Mr. Hikigaya puffed his cheeks and widened his eyes in feigned anger after being exposed by his daughter.
"Heehee..."
Komachi smiled, her gaze drifting toward the semi-transparent automatic doors sealing off the platform. A forest of cameras and microphones waited there. Several local TV station hosts had already begun live broadcasts.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the sign.
Because her family was warm and loving, she prayed silently, "Onii-chan... you have to come back safe and sound. Exactly the way you were."
Rustle—
At that moment, a horn sounded. More than a dozen men in ground crew uniforms, along with auxiliary robots, jogged across the wide isolation zone. Interception pillars lit up instantly. Strips of cyberpunk-style projection barriers flickered to life, flashing orange-red neon warnings of "No Entry."
"Please cooperate and step back behind the barrier."
"Maintain order. No pushing."
The next instant, the automatic doors opened. The returning soldiers emerged in several columns.
In a flash, the atmosphere erupted. People craned their necks and widened their eyes.
"Wow!" Komachi couldn't help exclaiming.
Seeing it on television and experiencing it in person were entirely different. And knowing her own brother was among them made her heart surge.
Thud! Thud!
Because this was home leave, their official unit structures had been rearranged. Yet even so, these soldiers from different companies, combat zones, and branches quickly achieved uniformity. Their rhythmic footsteps fell in perfect coordination, like a military parade.
Even a layperson could now see clearly—they were a real army. A disciplined, orderly army.
"Attention!"
Clap!
Solid military boots struck the stone-laid ground, their thunderous steps reverberating between the towering epic statues lining both sides of the platform.
"Soldiers, I will keep this brief. The next expedition will not be launched in haste. You will all have ample time to enjoy reunion with your families. However, there remains much planning and work ahead of us. Relax—but do not overindulge."
At this point, the Servitor Army officer standing before the formation paused, then broke into a grin. "Don't indulge yourselves so much that you fail the re-entry inspection..."
He straightened, raised his right hand, and drove his clenched fist heavily against his chest over his heart.
"Remember this—more arduous battles await us! Our objective remains eternal: to cast the glorious radiance of the great God-Empress across billions of stars!"
"For the Empire! For the Empress—!"
"Victory—!"
All the soldiers struck their fists against their chests in unison and roared.
"Strive together!"
"Dismissed! I wish you all a pleasant leave!"
The leading officer stepped aside and signaled to the ground crew. With several electronic beep-beep sounds, the projection barrier strips flashing orange-red shifted to a pale blue glow marked "Passage Permitted."
"..."
For a brief moment, there was utter silence.
Then, as the first returning soldier stepped out of formation and the first mother crossed into the projection barrier, the crowd surged all at once.
"Mom! I'm back!"
"Thank goodness—you're alive, Shouta!"
"Oi! Oozora! Over here!"
"Big Sis!"
...
Hachiman Hikigaya was merely one unremarkable figure amid the surging tide of reunions. He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the back of his neck turn dry and itchy. Perhaps because he was truly about to see his parents and his adorable little sister again, he found himself at a loss. How was he supposed to start a conversation with the two elders?
After several years in the regiment, he had either been crawling through mud on ground battlefields or drilling endlessly on shipboard platforms. The words he spoke daily were mostly clipped tactical phrases.
"Well then, Hikigaya—my big sis and my parents are here to pick me up. Ah, what a shame. Didn't get to see that little sister you're always going on about... I'll head off first. See you next time."
"Get lost. If you even think about my cute imouto, I swear I'll kick your ass with my boots."
Patting his comrade on the shoulder, Hachiman Hikigaya laughed and cursed.
"Damn it, you sis-con!"
Before running off, his close friend flashed him a universally understood gesture.
Just as Hachiman Hikigaya steadied himself and began searching for his family in the crowd, suddenly—
"Big Bro!"
That voice—so familiar... Komachi!
Hachiman Hikigaya's eyes widened instantly. Suppressing the joy that nearly burst from his throat, he turned instinctively toward the sound.
That familiar pair of almost-rotting dead fish eyes... It's Onii-chan!
Komachi Hikigaya looked toward the dissolving square formation. In the center, a man was waving farewell to his comrades. His face had matured—slightly unfamiliar—yet when she saw those unmistakable dead fish eyes, memories flooded her heart. She raised the sign high and shouted without thinking.
Seeing the family of three beneath the sign reading "Hikigaya," all hesitation and carefully prepared words were thrown aside. Hachiman Hikigaya broke into a run toward them.
"Komachi!"
"Onii-chan, Komachi missed you so—wahhh!"
Seeing her brother running toward her, Komachi waved her arms excitedly. She had only just begun speaking when her world spun. In the next instant, she was lifted around the waist like a Barbie doll and spun through the air who-knew-how-many times.
"Wah... Onii-chan, I know I'm cute, but this is a bit much. Komachi's getting dizzy!"
The spinning stopped abruptly. Hachiman Hikigaya nodded with intoxicated satisfaction.
"Mm. The familiar feeling. It's my adorable imouto."
Setting his sister down, he turned toward his parents, who looked far more weathered than before. He opened his mouth, but the thousand words he had prepared condensed into one simple sentence.
"Dad. Mom. I'm back."
"Hachiman..."
Mrs. Hikigaya could no longer maintain her composure. Pressing her hands together, her eyes reddened with tears. She stepped forward, intending to embrace her son—only to realize he was now far taller and far sturdier than she was.
When a son travels a thousand miles, a mother worries. How much more so when he had gone to a perilous interstellar battlefield? The rewards of military merit titles were tempting indeed—but to obtain them, one had to tie one's head to one's belt.
"Mom."
"It's enough that you're back," Mr. Hikigaya said as he stepped forward, tilting his head up. His eyes were moist as he patted his son's shoulder—now far broader and stronger than his own. Just as Komachi had said, he probably couldn't beat his son anymore.
"Hey, Onii-chan, you've gotten so much taller. Is the Servitor Army's food really that good?"
In terms of physique, the once-scrawny high school boy was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a man with short black hair, clad in a military greatcoat with a sidearm at his waist. Standing over six feet tall (about 183 cm), he was considered tall even in District 11. Strong and powerfully built, he radiated the tempered aura of a seasoned soldier—oppressive in presence.
Ignoring the dead fish eyes, his matured features now made him a handsome young man by any local standard. The tempering of gunpowder smoke lent him a maturity beyond his years.
Faced with his sister staring up at him—wearing an expression that seemed to question whether Servitor Army soldiers were supposed to be third-rate citizens—Hachiman Hikigaya laughed and shook his head, lightly flicking her nose.
"Don't believe random rumors. It depends on what you're comparing it to. Compared to Astartes angels or the Imperial Auxilia, there's no point in comparing. But in terms of treatment, it's far superior to the old Self-Defense Forces or the U.S. military."
Endless pushing of bodily limits, followed by military medical treatment to heal hidden injuries without leaving sequelae. Precisely calibrated, sustained physical enhancement agents. That was what had forged his physique—far surpassing even Captain America's. As for a ceiling? Sorry. He hadn't reached one yet.
According to veteran soldiers and Auxilia units who had fought alongside them, a ceiling? It didn't exist. In terms of physical conditioning alone, their improvement felt limitless.
There might be bottlenecks. The rate of growth from training varied from person to person. But the overall trend was indisputably upward.
It was like fitness training—if you could feel tangible improvement every single day, no one would quit halfway.
Thus, the culture of physical training within the Imperial military was exceptionally vigorous.
The Empire was not stagnant water. It flowed. It advanced.
Hachiman Hikigaya silently reflected on his treatment within the regiment.
All those fears he had before enlistment—discrimination, bullying, hazing—he had genuinely never encountered them in the Imperial military. As for hierarchical distinctions? Please. It was called the Imperial military. Wasn't a rank system the most natural thing in the world?
Your rank determined your treatment. Where you could go. What privileges you held. Everything was clearly written, distinctly separated. Even if someone of lower rank suddenly entered a higher-level area, no one would mock or belittle them. Passing the access gates meant they had earned extraordinary merit. That alone was recognition of strength.
They were elites selected from countless worlds. No one was foolish.
"Honestly, why are you two siblings discussing this here? Come on, let's go home. Hachiman, I made a whole table of dishes just for you. All your favorites."
Seeing the siblings converse without the slightest awkwardness, Mrs. Hikigaya smiled in relief.
"Oh? That's wonderful. I've missed Mom's cooking for a long time!"
Naturally taking his sister's hand, the Hikigaya family was finally reunited. The family of four set off happily on their way home.
...
"Queen, they all look so happy," Arisa said, leaning over the top observation deck of the ground-to-orbit station. She withdrew her gaze. "Um, Queen... your father and mother..."
"What? You want to see them?"
Resting her hands on the railing, her silver hair fluttering in the wind and reflecting brilliant light, Selene lightly pressed down a stray lock.
"Mm."
"There will be a chance. I also have a younger brother. His name is Ferdinand. You must get along well with him, little Arisa."
"Eh?!"