Ch.506Episode 19 – HELLDIVERS

# After Finishing My Closed-Door Training, I Found That the Country Had Collapsed

And quite thoroughly at that.

Some captain staged a coup and seized power, while the president fled overseas.

All the ministers were captured and confined to military bases, armed rebels and armed representatives were fighting in the parliament, and we became the world’s most despised bastards.

The surprising fact is…

All this madness happened in just one week.

“……”

I closed my terminal and blankly looked up at the sky.

Is this even a fucking country anymore?

## Episode 19 – HELLDIVERS

The military rebellion that occurred 7 days ago brought considerable repercussions.

This was evident from the prevalence of major foreign news reports with titles like “The Global Impact of the Zamrian Federation Coup.”

The Zamrian Federation was one of the few countries in the Moritani continent that maintained at least a formal democracy. Its collapse meant the security of the entire Moritani continent was compromised.

“The military bastards are getting restless,” Leoni said.

“They all seem tempted by the rebellion staged by the Federation’s military. Now even the most insignificant ones are causing a commotion, hoping to take over a country.”

A map of the Moritani continent hung on the situation board.

Next to it were potential risk factors—military forces, rebel groups, tribes, terrorist organizations—meticulously compiled over decades, densely listed.

Clavins examined the map marked with red dots. Then, moving his lips that seemed reluctant to part, he asked:

“The whereabouts of the missing officer?”

“Still unknown. Branch staff are continuing to check, but operations aren’t easy.”

This meant the search was struggling against the Zamrian Federation’s counterintelligence activities.

“We’ve mobilized branches in neighboring countries, but with non-essential personnel evacuated from diplomatic missions, there’s not much we can do.”

Immediately after the coup broke out, fears spread that another “civil war” might erupt.

Governments evacuated their citizens and administrative staff, leaving only the minimum personnel needed to maintain diplomatic missions, which temporarily weakened local intelligence networks.

Of course, intelligence officers from either home countries or neighboring branches would soon fly in to quickly fill the gaps. But what mattered now wasn’t when the intelligence network would be operational again.

In the underground situation room of the Military Intelligence Agency.

Clavins, who had been examining the situation board, abruptly asked:

“So we can’t even confirm whether Frederick is dead or alive?”

Silence fell.

The situation room, equipped with anti-eavesdropping measures, was so quiet that even the sound of a falling hair could be heard clearly, making the silence unnaturally eerie.

“……”

As everyone’s gaze converged on one spot.

Leoni, the Overseas Operations Director who had been staring at the distant situation board, let out a deep, troubled sigh.

“If communication comes through the emergency network, his location will appear. It shouldn’t take more than five minutes to confirm the officer’s whereabouts, then the rescue team can go get him.”

“I know that. But what if the emergency line doesn’t work, or if there’s no way to contact the officer? Then…”

“He’ll be classified as missing according to protocol.”

“……”

“If it takes longer, he’ll be classified as killed in the line of duty.”

“What will we tell his family?”

The intelligence officer replied briefly:

“As per custom.”

The investigator sighed.

Some sighed out of frustration, while others remained indifferent to even that frustration.

Leoni examined the situation board with a deliberately indifferent expression. Tapping the table with her fingernails, the intelligence officer returned to the main point.

“…Well, we need to search everywhere we can. We sent a Griffin across the border 13 hours ago, so it should arrive in Umsalga soon. I hope we get something from the Federation military’s communications.”

While waiting for reports from the signals intelligence department, the Overseas Operations Director reviewed reports submitted by branch agents remaining in the Zamrian Federation. Clavins and other commanders also flipped through documents.

Flip, flip.

Amid the busy sound of turning papers, a commander with a colonel’s rank insignia on his shoulder spoke with a puzzled expression:

“Um… I understand there have been cases of military rebellions led by junior officers in the Moritani continent. There have even been successful rebellions led by sergeants. But this coup seems a bit strange.”

“What aspect puzzles you?”

“Captain Kasim. The commander who led this rebellion. According to the data, this man worked under the president and is even from the same tribal lineage, so why did he rebel?”

The counter-terrorism department commander asked, pointing to the report. It was a document recording the personal information of the instigators of the Zamrian Federation coup.

In response, the colonel sitting across from him adjusted his glasses and replied in a gentle tone:

“Captain Kasim is from the Haranan tribe, and President Ayad was born into the Achini tribe. As you mentioned, the Haranan and Achini had a relationship close to an alliance—geographically, socially, and politically.”

At least until a few months ago.

“This year, after President Ayad amended the election law aiming for re-election, he purged Haranan-affiliated personnel, straining relations between the two tribes. The president needed the opposition’s consent to handle the ‘Nabuktu Disaster’ and push through the hasty legal amendments. Therefore, President Ayad needed to compromise with many tribes.”

In other words, the president wanted another term, so he needed to share the pie, but rather than face criticism for cutting out his own tribe, he betrayed his allied tribe.

In the end, the angry allied tribe said, “Fuck this shit! I can’t stand this anymore!” and rebelled against the president.

“Was there no option to not take care of the opposition?”

“No. As you can see from the recent case where ruling and opposition members held a sit-in with guns in parliament, most of the older members there were all former warlord executives in their day.”

This meant you had to give them a position if you didn’t want to get shot and die.

It was truly a country where only real men could survive (in fact, it was a place where you had to die if you weren’t manly enough). The mysterious ecosystem of the Zamrian Federation was something that the fragile natural ecosystem of Abas could never hope to match.

One of the commanders listening to their conversation pulled out information obtained by the open-source intelligence unit.

“Then what about the claim of collusion with foreign powers? They were saying our staff, along with the Saint, the Magic Tower delegation leader, the Hero, and the Warrior conspired with the president…”

The commander asked with a rather serious expression, but the colonel waved his hand dismissively, saying it was just propaganda commonly put forward by rebel forces.

“That’s just a pretext for the coup.”

“A pretext?”

“Foreign governments coveting sacred land and resources, immoral leaders blinded by greed… These are the easiest justifications for warlords or rebels to put forward. Since President Ayad and his inner circle were notorious for corruption, it was easy propaganda to swallow.”

“…They won’t be able to handle the aftermath if they continue like this.”

Why would they target the defense attaché, clergy, delegation leader, Hero, and Warrior all at once?

Neither the Church nor Al-Yabd were groups that would let this slide. Moreover, by targeting another country’s defense attaché, diplomatic friction was inevitable.

Of course, this only applied to people with normal “common sense.”

The fearless real men of the Moritani continent possessed a mindset that couldn’t even be compared to the cowardly men of other continents.

“They probably have no intention of dealing with the aftermath anyway. The Haranan tribe has historically had close relations with the Kiyen Empire.”

This meant they would coolly abandon the old clunker (Abas) and switch to a sleek new car (Kiyen).

It was truly a remarkable idea. There had never been such idiocy.

The Military Intelligence Agency commanders listened to the story with expressions that seemed to ask “Is this right?” before tilting their heads and questioning the colonel.

“You seem well-versed in local affairs?”

The colonel who had been explaining the coup forces’ idiotic ideas shrugged.

“I’m not in charge of the Moritani continent. I just worked there briefly under the Director a long time ago.”

“The Director? Ah… Director Leoni.”

As it turned out, he was an expert in clusterfucks.

The fact that Leoni had once stirred up the Moritani continent in the name of indirect operations against the Great Empire was now becoming well-known.

One of the Military Intelligence Agency’s long-standing mysteries—where her outrageous personality was formed—had finally been solved.

“The impact of the Zamrian military’s coup on neighboring countries will be enormous.”

“As soon as the rescue of the missing officer is completed, we need to quickly intervene in the Zamrian Federation’s political situation…”

Whether it was a racial trait of pale white people to mess up dark-skinned neighborhoods, the Military Intelligence Agency commanders were already preparing to stage a counter-coup in the Zamrian Federation.

In fact, there was a justification for preventing the entire Moritani continent from becoming a party venue for dictators (though it was already halfway to being a dictator meetup spot).

But no one knew why words like “assassination,” “sabotage,” “bribery,” “surveillance,” and “war” emerged in the process of gifting democracy.

(The American president who loves to wreck and destroy, or the Russian neo-Tsar who ordered Africa-Middle East to be messed up like a tripe stew by a chef with multiple prior convictions might know the answer. Or perhaps the French president who had a fit over the Niger coup.)

At that moment.

“Director.”

A fearless executive who barged in without knocking rushed over to Leoni.

Then, as if wanting to form a secret friendship, he began whispering something confidential to her.

The 40-50-something commanders were curious about what interesting news might have arrived and were craning their necks thinking “What is it? What is it?” when suddenly…

“…What? Is that true?”

Leoni suddenly frowned and glared at the executive.

“Yes. It’s from communications just intercepted.”

“Son of a…”

Leoni muttered a small curse. Clavins, who had been reviewing documents, noticed the ominous sign.

“What’s happening?”

“We’ve got the officer’s location.”

It was news that they had found Schrödinger’s son (or not) whose life or death was uncertain.

Leoni stormed out of the situation room, looking extremely pissed despite the seemingly good news.

Puzzled by her strange attitude, Clavins followed, pushing through the door, and since both superiors had left, the commanders also poured out.

And.

Not long after, the Military Intelligence Agency command staff learned that Schrödinger’s major (whose life or death couldn’t be determined until observed) was indeed alive.

The problem was.

“……”

“……”

“……”

“……”

“…Why is that guy charging into the capital?”

This madman was crawling into the headquarters occupied by the coup forces.

“Damn it…”

That day, the Military Intelligence Agency medical unit received two unconscious patients (both directors).

*

When I finished my training, the world had turned upside down.

“There was a coup. Some captain led his troops and took the capital in four hours.”

“……”

“The president fled overseas, all the ministers were captured and detained. There was a fight in parliament between representatives and rebels—I guess the former warlords are making their last stand before they’re screwed.”

“……”

“Oh, and all five of us have arrest warrants. They told us to leave the country within 24 hours, but we ignored it and stayed. We’ve been charged with treason, espionage, assault, intimidation, and so on, but don’t worry too much. Just one guilty verdict for treason means execution anyway.”

“…Is that supposed to make me not worry?!”

Camilla screamed in what sounded like her death throes.

Oh my god, we’re all dead! This is all because of you, Professor! My goodness, I can’t believe I’m a criminal!

It was comedic for a serial arsonist to act like being charged with a crime was a matter of life and death, but the seriousness of the situation was very grave.

Those damn bastards charging a diplomat with treason! Even for rebels with no principles, this was going too far!

The five wanted individuals plus a useless old man from the back room gathered to put their heads together for a marathon meeting.

The topic was just one:

What should we do now?

“How about asking the embassy for help?”

The first opinion that emerged was the result of extremely sensible judgment. Let’s just run to the embassy.

“Diplomatic missions are extraterritorial. If we escape there, we can get out.”

“I agree with that.”

However, this was too sensible an opinion.

The Moritani continent was a wilderness where common sense did not apply.

“Do you think people who put bounties on diplomats’ heads would hesitate to storm an embassy?”

That’s right.

If they were law-abiding, sensible people, they wouldn’t have staged a military rebellion in the first place.

For these conscience-less bastards, embassies or whatever—any place they didn’t like was a target for attack!

“Let’s flee across the border, shall we?”

The next suggestion was a time-honored, principled method.

Fleeing overseas—widely used by everyone from criminals to asylum seekers!

But this too was rejected.

“Another country? Are you suggesting we cross the border without passports while under arrest warrants?”

Illegal border crossing alone was a serious crime, and now wanted criminals without passports were supposed to cross the border.

It was the perfect way to get shot dead. No joke, really.

Let’s go to the angels, let’s flee to the ivory tower, let’s ask Al-Yabd for help, and so on. All kinds of opinions started flying around.

As Camilla made a tearful face at the Grand Duke’s senile (he really seemed senile) nonsense, saying “You do that yourself, Professor!” with tears and snot about to flow…

“Haah…”

The spy who had mastered third-world clusterfucks squeezed out his experience and wisdom to create a breakthrough!

“Since it’s come to this, let’s storm the presidential palace.”

It was a parade of nonsense that would make even America, obsessed with free (forced) distribution of democracy, jump in shock!