Chapter 21: The Windmill

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the command tower’s main control room was tense. Moments ago, a fighter jet preparing to ascend away from the scene had been caught in the jaws of the monstrous beast, and alarms immediately blared throughout the tower. The officer at the communications desk could not reach the pilot; despite his desperate shouts into the microphone, there was no response from the other end.

From the pilot's vital sign monitor, they could only ascertain that he was still alive, though his hand had slipped from the control stick, clearly unconscious. A jet flying at two hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, suddenly stopped by force, was little different from hitting a wall at that speed. Though the monster’s inertia caused it to reel back, providing some cushioning for the jet, the impact was still devastating for both the aircraft and the person inside.

Imagine, in that instant, over ten Gs of acceleration crashed into the pilot; even a battle-hardened aviator would be helpless before such a sudden overload, akin to the positive G-force during a rocket launch. Regular training at most reached five or six Gs, and only during aerobatics. To be caught off guard like this—no one could withstand it. Most likely, his brain was deprived of blood in that moment; the capillaries along the direction of impact would have burst. Thanks to the seatbelt, his bones were probably intact, but the state of his internal organs was another matter.

Yet, at times like this, they could not let the rescue team approach. The beast wasn’t dead; it was still opening and closing its jaws, trying to crush and swallow whatever was inside. Fortunately, the jet’s exterior was robust. Despite the monster's efforts to chew it, surveillance showed the cockpit remained undistorted.

“What should we do, sir…?”

The officer at the communications desk rose in despair, about to speak when his attention was caught by a small blue dot moving on the screen. He squinted, watching for several seconds, then turned and shouted, “Wait, sir, there’s someone there!”

The officer in the gray uniform rose and stepped before the screen. He watched as a human, tiny as an ant before the King of Glas, leaped onto the beast’s nape. The sight was reminiscent of Don Quixote charging windmills, lost in his fantasies, lance raised.

Yet before them was a true monster, not the illusion of a windmill.

Clinging to the scales behind the beast’s neck, the figure began climbing toward the obvious wound atop the King of Glas’s head. Faced with such a vast difference in size, one should feel fear, insignificance, and helplessness.

Yet, this person…

A strange emotion, almost nostalgia, surfaced on the officer’s face.

Just then, the main control room’s automatic doors slid open. Officers Sakura and Aihara appeared at the threshold, reporting loudly. The officer, half bent over the screen, straightened and beckoned them over.

Their words stuck in their throats; a superior outranks you utterly, and this parachuted officer was two grades above them. They stepped forward and focused on the screen.

On it, the beast was bowed, grappling with the jet caught in its mouth, like an unlucky soul with a fish bone stuck in its throat—unable to swallow, unable to spit it out, wracked with pain.

Noticing they hadn’t yet grasped the key point, an officer at the screen pointed with a laser pen. On the beast’s dark green hide, a tiny blue dot was clearly visible.

Both officers stared; within seconds, the control room erupted in a chorus, “Yuki!”

Officer Sakura trembled, whether in worry or anger, and turned to complain, only to find Aihara had already dashed out, leaving nothing but empty air.

“This hothead…” Sakura cursed under his breath, preparing to chase after, when a hand rested on his shoulder, gently restraining him. Turning, he met a calm, gentle face. Despite his urgency, Sakura’s frustration dissipated entirely in the presence of the parachuted officer’s serene expression; his mind cleared, and he was utterly calm.

“The young man clinging to the beast—is he someone you know, Inspector Sakura?”

“Yes, he is…”

Sakura collected himself, organized his thoughts, and began to introduce Yuki.

………………………

……………

Little Dot was still struggling with the iron mass wedged in its mouth, oblivious to the human who had climbed onto its back. Understandably, unless a person saw it directly, there’s no way to sense an ant crawling on one’s body through clothing.

However, the beast’s chewing made the “ground” beneath Yuki’s feet unstable. He could only grip the shell structure at the edge of the wound tightly, then brace himself and reach inside.

Earlier, he’d seen the leaf and drawn it toward himself. But could he pull the embedded control chip from the flesh, even if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes?

Yuki concentrated, clutching the beast’s scales, planting his feet against a protruding thorn to press himself as close as possible, so as not to be thrown off. He stretched his hand toward the meter-long wound.

Control chip…

He silently repeated the words, conjuring the image of a desktop CPU in his mind.

Control chip…

Again, the CPU appeared, this time with a backdrop of streaming data.

Control chip…

Now, Yuki pictured the CPU as a small square surrounded by flesh and blood vessels, throbbing as though powering the chip.

“!!”

A hard object, angular and solid, appeared out of nowhere in his palm. The sensation startled Yuki, but before he could rejoice, darkness swallowed his vision, strength drained from his limbs, and he suddenly couldn’t feel his hands or feet. Unable to hold on, he tumbled off the King of Glas’s head.

This sudden exhaustion—what was it?

As he fell, the world spun around him, as if he’d been beaten inside a sack. When he finally reached the ground and came to a stop, he was so dizzy he couldn’t even feel pain.