Chapter 35: The Abandoned

Calvin’s fury subsided slightly, though his gaze remained as sharp as a blade, piercing straight through Sean’s back.

"Then why do you want to run?"

Sean’s throat worked. He gripped Calvin’s arms tightly, staring directly at him.

"This isn't running—if anything, it’s the opposite of running," Sean lowered his voice, yet it carried more intensity. "What kind of life did we live back in Hekla? Like vermin, like rats—certainly not like human beings. To fill our bellies, we did whatever we had to do. Besides Mom, nobody cared if we lived or died. Everyone was too busy trying to survive the day to have the energy to think about tomorrow.

"Do you remember when we first arrived in Tanyi? What kind of life do the people here lead? They have cake shops on their streets, beautiful clothes in their display windows. Every night, people are out drinking; even the vagrants eat like fat pigs, lazing about in the corners...

"Do you remember? We swore back then that one day, we would buy a big mansion in Tanyi. It had to be two stories high, with a six-hundred-square-meter backyard and a massive cellar. We’d keep three big dogs in the yard and store barrel after barrel of fine wine in the cellar... as long as we worked here until we were twenty-five—"

"That’s on the condition that this place isn't overrun by the Chelates," Calvin said, his voice low.

"Right, and isn't that exactly our mission? That’s what I thought back then, too," Sean let out a short laugh. "Until I checked the combat casualty ratio by gender for the Quicksilver Needles. Do you know what it is? Sixteen to one. Cal, don't you think that’s absurd?"

Calvin remained silent.

Sean continued, "I don’t understand. Even if men are slightly inferior in endurance, we are clearly stronger in terms of raw power and explosive force. So, I tried to find the reason why the mortality rate for male Quicksilver Needles remains so stubbornly high.

"At first, I guessed it might be related to child-rearing, that women are always better protected. But I quickly realized that relying on reproduction to obtain new Needles is far too inefficient—a male Needle’s talent is rarely hereditary, and a female Needle only has about a one-in-thirty chance of birthing a child with talent.

"Even if you gathered all the female Needles together and kept them constantly pregnant, you could never match the efficiency of going out into the Wasteland to find new recruits. Besides, those women aren't the type to be kept in cages.

"Then, I thought it might be task allocation. Maybe the high-risk missions far from the habitable zones were all being assigned to men. So, I compared forty-one high-risk annihilation missions from the last hundred years that resulted in heavy losses. I discovered that the problem wasn't the allocation at all—it was the impact of blood loss on 'bullet time.'

"With a ten-percent loss of blood in a short period, the percentage of men and women who can maintain bullet time is ninety-three percent and ninety-seven percent, respectively. At thirty percent blood loss, those figures drop to forty-six percent and eighty-nine percent. But once blood loss exceeds forty percent, men face shock or immediate death, while forty-three percent of women can still maintain bullet time.

"As for the female Quicksilver Needles, they only lose their combat effectiveness entirely once blood loss exceeds fifty percent. Women possess an overwhelming, inherent advantage in resisting blood loss."

Although Sean tried his best to control his volume, he was still incredibly agitated.

"That is the fundamental reason for the high male casualty rate—the more dangerous and difficult the battle, the longer it lasts, and the longer the battle lasts, the more disadvantageous it is for us!"

"And so?"

Sean stared at him. "Cal, have you ever considered that people like us are born to be tools in these habitable zones?"

"...Heh."

"Do you remember the introduction to natural history class from last semester?" Sean whispered. "In any sexually reproducing population, the majority of males are expendable, because only the number of females dictates the reproduction of the species. As long as a small handful of males survive, the entire population can be seeded.

"And people like us are born as trash. We are naturally unprotected, destined to be pushed forward as sacrifices to be killed. Whether in Hekla or here, it’s the same."

Sean looked deeply at Calvin.

"I’ve made up my mind. No one, and nothing, is going to feed on me. I am only myself, and I will live out my life only according to my own will. Only then will our survival mean something; only then will Mom be happy in heaven—"

Calvin shoved Sean’s arms away with a look of disgust.

"Cal!" Seeing Calvin turn to leave, Sean chased after him for a few steps. "Don't you understand me? Don't think about going to the front lines. No one here is truly looking out for us. The Quicksilver Needles are just treating us as expendable supplies. We need to find a way to get into logistics, or even the habitable zone’s government army—only by going to those places can we break free from this cycle of being discarded at will. We can move up, reach higher, and perhaps—"

"Get lost!"

Calvin barked, pushing Sean aside.

Sean lost his balance and landed on the ground. He had never seen Calvin this furious and remained stunned where he sat.

Calvin took a deep breath and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Sean suddenly felt a surge of panic, and just as he hesitated over what to say, Calvin stopped.

"Cal...?" Sean whispered. "Cal, we—"

"Without the land, we are nothing."

With that, Calvin walked away. He heard Sean shouting his name behind him, but he kept walking, eyes fixed forward, until he disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Afterward, he reached into his pocket and pressed the stop button on his voice recorder.

...

In the evening, Calvin went to Valenti’s office alone and knocked softly on the door.

"Please, come in." Valenti turned around, surprised to see Calvin pushing the door open with a somber expression—a few days ago, when she had suggested talking to him about Sean, he had refused, saying he needed time.

Now that Calvin had come of his own accord, it perhaps meant there was a turning point.

Valenti smiled and gestured for Calvin to sit. "Is there anything you need help with?"

"...I want to talk about Sean," Calvin said quietly. "About him and Hesta."

"Yes."

"Yesterday, Ms. Morley suggested that I record my conversation with Sean to document the situation as accurately as possible," Calvin frowned. "However—"

"There was such a suggestion?" Valenti was startled. "That is unreasonable."

Calvin looked up at Valenti. "You think it’s unreasonable too?"

"Yes, it is," Valenti’s expression turned serious. "I will have a talk with Morley. Such methods should not be used in the requirements placed upon you."

"...I had prepared the recorder," Calvin said in a low voice, "but when I started talking to Sean about those topics, I forgot to turn it on, so nothing was recorded. But if you are willing to hear my thoughts, I can tell you now."