2

A day after the successful startup test, Anju and I were back beneath Armunale.

Today’s job: fix the lower half—something we couldn’t reach before, stuck in our seats for so long.

We’d managed to carve out space behind the back by chipping away at the cliffside, enough to squeeze in and work. But the bottom of Armunale? No room to wiggle, not even a crack. Risked tipping over if we tried. So we’d left it alone.

Now, standing up, the backside was a mess—cracked, dented, looked like something kicked by a mule.

“Alright, first things first…”

“Gotta scrape off the dirt and rust, right?”

“Exactly.”

Eight years of this. Carrying gear from the village every time? Getting old. And some parts wouldn’t fix in a day. Needed a shelter—something to keep the rain off.

The shed was just a simple thing, wedged into the cliff’s gap, but good enough to stash gear.

From there, I pulled out the cleaning tools and fetched water from the river.

“Gonna break up this hardened dirt first.”

“Mm-hmm.”

It took more effort than expected to pry away the soil, long compressed by Armunale’s weight and fused tight like stone.

I clung to Armunale’s waist frame with one arm, braced my feet, and used my free hand to yank at the dirt.

The outer layers came off in chunks, but the closer I got to the frame, the tighter it held.

That thin, stubborn bit? That was the real enemy. Time for Ange.

“Ange, help me out.”

“Right away!”

Waiting at my feet, Ange grabbed her shovel and activated her magic.

Ange’s flare booster’s the same kind of mobility magic as my aeroslaster—but there’s one big difference. It can hover right where it is.

My aeroslaster just kicks me up with a jolt. But Ange’s flare booster’s got actual thrusters strapped to her waist, so the force keeps pushing. Means she can hover, sure—but even mid-flight, she can turn any which way. Not as fast as my magic, true. But the trade-off’s worth it.

Ange hovered smoothly, drifting up to me.

“Got you.”

“Just hold on a sec.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I let go of the frame and drop down to the ground. Then Ange lifts her shovel.

“Heave-ho!”

With a cute little shout, she swings it down—right at the Armunale.

Clang—sharp and heavy, the shovel smacks down hard, and the frame wobbles just a bit.

“One more time!”

Swinging the shovel again, the frame bends a little more.

If it were a brand-new Armunale, I’d be shouting, wouldn’t I? But there’s a reason for this, too.

If the dirt’s too hard to budge, just shift the soft part instead.

So, we twist the frame, make a gap between it and the soil, and peel the dirt off that way. A little bend from a shovel strike? From far away, nobody’d notice. Besides, this whole thing’s already falling apart—what’s one more tiny twist or two? Doesn’t matter.

By the time I’m done, the earth starts to crack.

“Ange, about time!”

“Hai!”

I lowered the shovel, hovering in place before pulling away from Armunale. Once I’d confirmed it, I aimed the air blast at the dirt.

The cracked soil crumbled apart with a jolt.

“Ugh… next up’s rust.”

“Got the brush ready.”

“Just scrape it off till it’s gone.”

Rust was hopeless. No choice but to do the best we could.

Ange and I kept scraping away at the rust, no breaks, no stops.

As the sun dipped low, we packed up our tools and started heading back toward the village.

Called a “path,” but really just branches to walk on, or rocky footholds—no real trail at all.

Ange was used to it, weaving through the branches with her flare booster. She touched down now and then—probably the magic’s time limit kicking in.

I wish I could float like that too, but wind magic just can’t keep a person aloft for long.

If I tried, the spell’d blow up—get so big it’d turn into a whirlwind. Guess fire’s got real power behind it.

Ange steps up beside me.

“Eld—wait a sec.”

“Huh?”

I land on a branch. Ange climbs higher, peering carefully toward the village.

“Something’s off. People’re gathering in the square.”

“Merchants comein’?”

That’s one of the few entertainments the villagers get. Whenever a merchant shows up, everyone shows up too. It’s about that time, but… maybe a bit early.

“No, it’s not that. And… is that… a black Armunale?”

“Armunale!? And black!? That’s not right…”

It’s wrong. All the Armunales in this country are painted silver, with the kingdom’s symbol—the two-headed lion—etched on the left chest.

So a black Armunale shouldn’t exist here. Not even the neighboring country we’ve fought a few times uses one—no, they use a different color.

Which means… only one possibility: a free Armunale. But that shouldn’t be possible.

The Hyimagia Liquid that powers the Armunales is produced only in state-run factories. No—more precisely, the state keeps the tech secret, so it can only be made there.

“…I wanna take a look.”

“Huh? What do you expect me to do?”

“I’ll help—just lift it up for me.”

“Lift it!? Seriously!?”

“Hurry!”

“O-Okay, fine!”

Ange’s face was red as a beet as she came down from above.

I couldn’t wait—clung to Ange, and we shot straight up into the sky on the aeroslasher.

“Yaaah! Don’t just suddenly fly like that!”

“Just activate the booster already.”

“Ugh… fine…”

Ange fired up the booster, and our fall slowed. But even if it was just her, supporting my weight was clearly too much—couldn’t stay aloft.

So I added my support.

“Pinpoint cyclone.”

A vortex of wind rose from beneath our feet, lifting us up. That’s how we finally hovered.

“Ah… that’s it.”

Sure enough, a black Armunale was visible deep in the woods.

Hard to see the base, but since it rose higher than her waist, we spotted it right away.

“Not from the country… then what is it…?”

“Never mind that—what now?”

Can’t say for sure until we check. But I’ve got a bad feeling about it—Ange, you stay in the woods.

There’s no doubt that’s not regular army. And if those kinds of people have something as powerful as Armunale… well, you can bet they’re not here for peace.

I’ve got a powerful weapon too, sure—but then again, I’m a reincarnated one, so I’ve got that luxury. Besides, my Armunale’s just a weapon… nothing more.

Still, gotta find out who’s riding that thing.

Left Ange behind in the woods and headed straight for the village.

Stopped just before the outskirts, peeking through the bushes. Black-armored men. Standing in the square, shouting at the villagers.

Too far to hear, but I can fix that.

“Sound Correct.”

“So… we’re just supposed to pretend we don’t know anything?”

"Yeah, I didn’t know merchants sold things like that."

"Then where’s the child now?"

"Off playing in the woods. The sun’s low—should be back soon, I think…"

The conversation’s between the village chief and the armored man. There’s a merchant nearby too, and they’ve definitely caught wind of me. Means they’re after my Armunale, no doubt about it.

Well, damn. This just got complicated.

Then again—village chief used to want to ride an Armunale himself, back in the day. Should’ve realized they’re not regular soldiers. So why the friendly act?

No. Wait. Look closer. The chief’s got a twitch in his eye. He’s not fooling anyone. Pretending he doesn’t know… but he does.

If they’re thieves, and we’re found out pretending to be regular troops—well, we might all end up dead. So he’s playing dumb on purpose? Still, there’s something to be said for knowing the Armunale. Better than your average village chief handed down from father to son.

“Who’s your parent?”

“We are.”

My dad and mom step forward from the crowd. The armored men flinch at my dad’s stare, hands twitching toward their swords.

I was ready to jump out if they drew—then the leader among them holds up a hand, quieting his men.

“Apologies, my men were rude.”

“No, no, it’s just your dad’s face. Scary, that’s all.”

“Hmph…”

A few villagers hide their grins behind their hands. Dad looks awkward. Well, if even *them* get spooked, that’s something.

Wait—no. Gotta hear what they’ve got to say.

"Did you know your son was buying parts like he mentioned?"

"No, he’s the kind who figures things out on his own. We don’t interfere much."

"Then anything unusual at all?"

"Hmm… oh, right—about eight years ago, he suddenly started asking for pocket money. In this village, there’s barely anything to spend it on."

"I see."

Listening to this, the captain-type fellow starts sounding oddly polite. Good for the villagers, I guess—no trouble, no harm. But personally? I’m stuck. If there’s nothing to stop it, then I can’t really say no.

Armunale’s not something you can just hand off on your own. If they ask for it, I can’t really think of a good reason to refuse.

I could point out we’re not正规军, maybe block it that way—but then I worry about what comes after. If they start rampaging through the village, the people’ll get hurt. I don’t want that on my conscience… not because of my own whims.

If they’d just raid the village like common thieves, I could’ve slipped into Armunale without a hitch.

"So, you’re saying there’s a chance we might’ve found Armunale back then? But if we believe that, it means an eight-year-old kid was trying to fix Armunale all by themselves."

"Back then, she was always sharp as a knife."

"True. She was using magic and helping with hunts by five."

"Good heavens. That’s quite the child."

No, no—don’t make it sound like we’re all sitting around sharing stories over tea...

Maybe I need to look at this from a different angle.

"My kid loves Armunale. Just seeing this black Armunale, she’d come flying back in a heartbeat."

"You know a lot about Armunale, then?"

"Yes. She’s been digging through every scrap of info she could find. And ever since the village chief gave her the national textbook, she’s been lost in it for hours."

"Ah."

The captain’s voice turned sharp, eyes locked on the village chief. Around him, the men shifted slightly.

Ah, the chief’s efforts are going down the drain… his face is going pale.

This is bad. If they figure out I know about the Armunale, they’ll realize that black machine isn’t ordinary.

Once the ruse is blown—what thieves do then—

“Then we’ll have to change the plan. Grab them all!”

“Finally! I’ve been waiting!”

“Should’ve done this from the start!”

“The captain’s still playing the fool, huh!”

The armored men drew their swords in unison, pointing them at the villagers. The sudden move sent the villagers into panicked screams, no idea what was happening.

“W-why are you doing this?!”

“That brat might know about us. So it’s faster to take you all as hostages.”

“That’s the plan. Women to the house over there, men to ours! Cross me, and I won’t spare you!”

Of course it came to this. Just as I was about to leap from the bushes, the shrubbery behind me rustled—and Ange appeared.

“Eld-kun…”

“Ange, why’re you here?”

“There were more of them in the woods. Sounded like they were looking for you. I came to warn you.”

“Ah, I see. Perfect. They really are thieves. Since the whole village’s been taken, we’ve gotta get ‘em out.”

“Understood. What’s the plan?”

“Ange, go to the cabin where the women were taken. Tell ‘em what’s going on. When I start making a ruckus, the armored men’ll head your way. Take ‘em by surprise—take ‘em all out fast. Probably no more than ten. You can handle that, right?”

“Of course. Ten men? Piece of cake.”

Ange’s multistage activation had climbed to thirteen over eight years. Considering I could only manage six at my peak, it’s probably just the difference between our sexes. Or maybe it’s just Ange’s raw talent. Either way, she’s soared way past me in multistage activation. Still, I’m better when it comes to improvising. Not for nothing did I get that reincarnation knowledge.

“Anyway, after you take down those armored bastards, gather up Father’s crew and head to Ange’s place. If you can tie up the thieves too, that’d be a big help.”

“Got it. But what about you, Eld?”

“I’ll handle the guy with the black Armunale.”

There he is, in my line of sight—black Armunale in hand. If I don’t stop him, those thieves’ll keep fighting forever. That’s how dangerous the Armunale is.

But then again, if I can just pin that down, their morale’ll collapse for sure.

“Be careful.”

“You too. They’re professionals at killing, after all.”

“I know. Nothing’s more dangerous than a wounded one, right? I’ve learned that myself.”

When you’re hunting, the most dangerous creature is always the one with a wound. Even herbivores charge without a word. Ange’s been helping me and my dad with the hunt ever since she learned magic, so she gets it.

“Then I’m off.”

I slipped out from the thicket, using the long shadows cast by the setting sun, and headed toward the small hut where my dad and the others had gathered.