At an altitude of 3,000 meters, the bridge of the Rewloola-class could barely be seen in the distance. Steve lounged comfortably in the captain's seat, a cup of freshly brewed tea in hand, his gaze fixed on the main screen as real-time surveillance footage of the ground streamed before him.
On screen, Ritsuka and the others still looked exactly as human as ever. But in the lower right corner, Steve had purposefully opened a Cognitive Filter Simulation Window — meant to simulate how the world was seen by a Yaga on the ground.
…
On the Ground, Russia — The Lostbelt
A bitter wind howled, whipping up thousands of mounds of snow. In this deadly white silence, what should have been a tense, fatal confrontation took on a subtly different mood, complicated by the intervention of some mysterious force.
Patxi, the Yaga hunter who had survived so long in this cruel world, stared wide-eyed and dazed at the group of uninvited guests emerging from the great white iron box.
In logic, any living thing without animal features was categorized as Old Breed in this world — in other words, food or slaves.
But, thanks to the futuristic hi-tech item that Steve had distributed to all the Chaldea members in advance — the Same-Race Badge, capable of extended-range cognitive interference — the scene unfolding before Patxi's eyes was entirely different.
The badge ensured that to members of other species, the wearer would be perceived as a somewhat odd-looking, but still same-species' compatriot.
This effect included corrections to sight, sound, and even some aspects of scent.
Standing before him was a petite woman with striking, brilliant eyes… a orange-haired Yaga? Her hair appeared short (though it was, in fact, skin), and her ears were not particularly pointed. But in this monochrome world of black, white, and gray, the orange of her features blazed like fire.
She stood with her hands up, making a peaceful gesture, clearly signaling she meant no harm. Next to her was a Yaga with vivid purple hair, wielding a gigantic shield.
The shield was immense, and yet the purple-haired Yaga seemed so slender that he might be blown over by a strong wind.
But what startled Patxi most — in fact, what truly astonished him — was the man hiding at the very back.
That was… a huge, golden-haired, fat male Yaga — a veritable mountain of flesh.
In this world of famine, where even bark is gnawed from trees, Patxi couldn't recall ever seeing a creature so fat!
The man's belly fat (actually a leather coat) and gleaming golden hair (curls, in truth) practically screamed of incredible wealth.
"Hey there… everyone."
Patxi still held his old rifle, though the barrel drooped slightly. His tone was devoid of killing intent; there was only a baffled confusion, as if staring at an alien being.
"Where did you crawl out from? I've never seen such flamboyant pelts in these parts."
"Um… We come from a very, very faraway place!"
Ritsuka (who to Patxi looked like a red wolf wagging its tail) stepped forward and beamed a harmless smile meant to put any friend — or even a beast — at ease. "Our… uh, den (she meant the Shadow Border) got lost in the blizzard, and we just barely managed to crash-land here."
"Sir, do you know where we are?"
"Den?"
Patxi glanced warily at the massive tank, the corners of his mouth twitching. "That thing moves? A mobile fortress? Tch, outsiders do always have their tricks."
He scrutinized Ritsuka from head to toe, then cast a glance at Goredolf, the fat, golden wolf, exhaling icy breath.
"You look odd, and probably taste odd too, but… anyone who survived inside that metal box is no pushover."
"I'm Patxi. I hunt in this area."
"I'm Ritsuka Fujimaru. This is Mash, and over there… is our Pack Leader, Goredolf."
Ritsuka pointed behind her to the director.
"Pack Leader?"
Patxi glanced at Goredolf's impressive build and nodded, believing the claim. "No wonder you eat so well. Your tribe must have been wealthy once. How did they raise such a powerful leader?"
"Uh… Yes! That's right! I am the Pack Leader!"
Goredolf couldn't tell how he appeared to them, but hearing the word strong, he instinctively puffed up his chest (mainly his belly), trying to project dignity. "Ahem. You're… Mr. Patxi, yes? We just got here and, well… we're looking for a place to rest. Obviously, we'll pay."
"Payment?"
Patxi's ears twitched, his gaze sharpening. "Here, only bullets and food are true currency. Got any?"
"We do, of course!"
Ritsuka quickly fetched a box of Chaldea's compressed biscuits and canned food from the Shadow Border. "These… are our tribe's special products! Very tasty!"
Patxi suspiciously sniffed the canned food, then tore open a metal can with his sharp claws. Instantly, the rich scent of meat wafted through the icy air.
Gulp—
Not only Patxi, but even the Yaga followers behind him had their mouths watering, despite their initial wariness. In a world where only moldy black bread and slabs of meat were edible, processed, refined food like this was a taste of pure bliss.
"…All right."
Patxi quickly stuffed the canned meat into his mouth, his face lighting up in ecstasy. After a moment, he wiped his lips and looked at Ritsuka and the others, his gaze now soft and reverent, as if facing the god of wealth.
"We're the same race, and you understand the rules… Come with me. Up ahead is the Yaga village."
"But let's be clear: don't cause trouble."
"If the Oprichniki find you oddballs, I won't be able to protect you."
…
Thus, by making a double attack with their pack and food diplomacy, Chaldea's group managed to infiltrate a Yaga village without bloodshed.
But, as soon as they entered, a harsher reality hit.
The place was less a village than a refugee camp, struggling for survival amid ruins. Most dilapidated homes were half-buried in snow. The Yaga huddled together in small underground burrows like wild animals trying to endure the cold.
An indescribable odor hung over everything — a mix of blood, rot, and despair.
The villagers watched the strange newcomers of Patxi's group with mixed curiosity and greed; when they saw Goredolf, their gaze was like that of a starving man seeing walking pork belly.
"Ugh! Why's everyone staring at me?!"
Goredolf edged behind Mash, shivering under their hungry stares.
"Maybe… Because you look especially lucky, Director," Mash said, gripping her shield and standing on alert.
"This is… the singularity on the Russian side."
Watching a group of scrawny little Yaga fighting each other for bones, Ritsuka's sense of relief faded. They had succeeded in infiltrating with their props, but the world's ruthless nature hadn't changed; only the strongest survived.
Here, every Yaga was a human — survivor of countless disasters. To withstand minus 100°C and the endless culling, they'd had to discard humanity and civilized dignity, becoming half-man half-beast.
"Hey, Orange-hair."
Without turning around, Patxi called out as he walked forward, "Judging by your behavior, you must be from somewhere warm, right? That look in your eyes… far too soft."
"In this place, sympathy is the most useless thing of all."
"If you don't want to die, wipe that pity off your face."
"…I know."
Ritsuka took a deep breath, calming herself. "We're just… not used to this yet."
"Not used to it?"
Patxi sneered. "You'll get used to it fast."
"In this world of nothing but blizzard, you either become a beast who eats people — or a corpse who gets eaten. No third option."
…
High above, watching Patxi's lonely figure on the screen, Steve lightly swirled his teacup.
"No third option, huh…? Too bad. We're here precisely to bring that third option."
Muttering to himself, his gaze shifted to a relatively presentable building at the village center — the rebel base, and the first key to uncovering the truths of this Lostbelt.
…