Chapter 6: Cockpit disassembly

The pilot’s body was clean.

At first glance, I wondered if he was even alive.

He was a middle-aged man with a short stature, maybe 150cm. However, he did not have the imbalance that is often associated with short stature, and somehow gave the impression of a shrunken human being.

He was wearing a heavy winter coat that looked like bear fur. His tanned skin reminded me of the Inuit people of Alaska.

He sat down comfortably on a seat made of a plastic-like resin. He grasped the controls protruding from the armrests on either side.

A streak of blood flowed from the edge of his lips.

Also, the left side of his chest was concave.

Apparently, the tip of the blade I had thrust into him had shattered his ribs and crushed his heart with pinpoint accuracy.

I chanted “Namu Amida Buddha” in my mind.

Under Dostoyev’s control, my hands gently dragged the body out and placed it on the snow.

The people of the city gather around.

Even though they were our enemies, I wondered if they would give him a proper burial.

My expectations were soon betrayed.

The residents stripped off the body’s clothes and pressed a saw against it. They were trying to make it easier to carry the body!

I tried not to look at the horrific scene.

Dostoyev turned my face back to the sprawled Titan.

The voice of the comm echoed in the cockpit.

“Don’t you think there have been a lot of heat bandit attacks lately?”

“Mayor.”

Dostoyev said as he peeled the armor off the giant with my hand.

“It’s getting colder with each passing year. The city can no longer survive without the ‘barrels’. These people have no way to survive except to take heat from elsewhere. That’s why they’re throwing in penniless giants.”

“Actually, that’s not the only reason.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Excuse me. I heard from a traveling heat merchant yesterday that Hanbal has been destroyed. It’s a city three hundred kilometers from here. I heard that the imperial army attacked it and recovered the ‘barrels’. I heard that the area has become unstable and bandits are streaming in.”

“Hanbal? There’s more than ten Titans over there, you know?”

As I listened to their conversation, I began to see something.

Apparently, this world is freezing over.

It seems that a violent ice age or something has made it difficult to produce food, and people are fighting for “heat”.

That heat, of course, includes Titans and humans.

For them, eating people is a natural part of life.

But to me, it is a harsh value and a scary way of thinking.

When Dostoyev’s “Dismantling” was over, I was mentally exhausted.

Dostoyev led me to the hangar, tilting his head and saying, “The machine is not responding well”.

After dunking me in the usual pool, he shouted to Alisha, “Keep it tuned!”