Four

It was a week after our talk that the head of the dormitory called.

I’d just stepped out to head to school when I was stopped.

“Eld, good morning—got a sec?”

“Good morning. What is it?”

“About that sword practice the other day. They’ve agreed to take it on.”

“Really?!”

I’d been reading up on basics—schoolwork and all that—but without someone proper to guide me, I couldn’t seem to improve much, not in the little details.

Well, if you could get good at swords in just a week, nobody’d ever need to train—

“Anyway, they said they’ll come over this evening. So, when would you like me to start? They said they’re fine starting today, if you want.”

“Of course—today, please. I’m falling behind in swordplay, and it’s starting to show.”

You get how awful it is—only you stuck doing basic swings while the others spar? Feels like burning shame, doesn’t it?

All the while, Rayla, Batis, Leon—they’re throwing moves so wild, the ground near them cracks with every slash. The faster they go, the more it feels like they’re carving up the air. Honestly, I’d rather not get near them during practice.

“Got it. So, after class, come by the caretaker’s office.”

“Yes, then I’m off.”

“Be careful now.”

I bow to the caretaker, and head toward the academy.

Finish class, straight to the caretaker’s office. Even regular lessons are built like military drills—leave me drained. But if I don’t push past this, I’ll never rise. Shaking off the fatigue, I knock on the door.

“Eld.”

The door creaks open, and the usual caretaker steps out.

“Come in, she’s already here. I’ll introduce you—come on in.”

“Sorry to bother you.”

I step inside at the prompt, into the caretaker’s room.

It’s barely bigger than two student dorms shoved together.

And there, seated at the table in the middle, is the woman. She lifts her gaze. Meets my eyes.

First impression—kinda stern, maybe. Looks young, early twenties, maybe even younger.

Silver hair gives her a cool air. Her eyes tilt up slightly at the corners, sharpness in the stare.

I’d expected someone older. Inside, I’m surprised.

“Is this the one?”

“Yes, the one who wants to learn the sword.”

“Oh—Eld, at your service.”

“Rene. I’ve heard about you. From today on, I’ll be helping your grandmother, so we’re counting on you.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll do my best.”

Rene stood up and reached out her hand, so I took it in a handshake.

“So, wanna get straight to practice? Is that okay with Grandma?”

“Most of what needed saying’s said, dear. Make sure you teach her well.”

“Got it. Then put your things down and come with me to the back garden.”

“Yes.”

I rushed back to the room, flung my bag onto the bed, and changed into something I could move in.

When I dashed down the stairs and stepped into the backyard, Rene was already waiting there with her sword drawn.

“Warm-up? Nah, not needed. Let’s start with swings. Try some swings with this blade.”

“Understood.”

I took the middle sword from Rene, forming the stance I’d learned at the academy.

Basically, a ready stance—right foot forward, left foot back. It was kind of like kendo’s posture, so it wasn’t half bad to get into.

From there, swing the sword up, then bring it straight down.

I stop the tip just short of my chest, then raise it back above my head.

After doing this a few times, Rene quietly steps forward. She moves behind me and grabs my arm while I’m holding the sword overhead.

“Hold on a sec. Keep your feet where they are—pull your elbow back a bit, so the power flows easier.”

She adjusts my form little by little, speaking as she goes.

I pay close attention, doing as she says, then swing the sword again. This time, the weight feels different—lighter than before.

Just shifting my stance by a few centimeters… and the way the force moves changes so much…

Feeling a bit easier, I speed up the motion.

My muscles are solid to begin with. No risk of tiring out like some amateur.

“Yeah… you’re getting the feel of it now.”

Being stared at all over like that is a little embarrassing—but I tell myself it’s just another test to focus, and I keep swinging the blade.

Fuffuffu… I’m starting to breathe heavy when Rene calls a halt.

“Basic form’s good enough for now. After this, it’s just repetition every day.”

“Thank you.”

“But you’re not satisfied with just this, are you? I heard you’re aiming for the top ranks.”

“Yes. I just found out the results from the entrance exam today. I came in fourth in the pilot course.”

“Fourth’s quite good, isn’t it?”

True, by the numbers alone, it might be enough. But when it comes to being assigned to the Armunale unit, it’s a coin toss.

Only the top two each year get assigned straight to the unit. The rest? It depends on openings. That’s why if you’re aiming for it, you’ve got to be in the top two.

And that’s—

“The gap between me and the top is just too wide.”

First place, as expected, was Rayla. Second was Leon, third was Batis. And the difference between my score and Batis’s? Forty points. The gap between me and Rayla? Nearly a hundred.

“My weak spots are history and swordsmanship. Everything else was almost perfect, so the only way to close the gap is to push those two up.”

“Is that so? Then this year’s students must be quite exceptional. Two with near-perfect scores, and another just shy of it—yes, Eld-kun’s generation is shaping up to be a real battle.”

“Not quite perfect.”

I corrected Rene’s nodding agreement.

“Huh?”

She tilted her head, silver hair swaying.

"Ryra, the top student, you know—she got perfect scores in every subject. No mistakes at all. All perfect."

Yeah, Ryra scored full marks on every test. It’s being announced loud and clear today, the first time something like that’s happened since the academy began.

Among the instructors, it’s already whispered that Ryra’s joining the Armunale squad for sure—some even say she might skip the deputy pilot role altogether and go straight to main pilot.

"I’ve gotta catch up to her. Otherwise, I can’t even look myself in the eye and say I’m ready to fly the Armunale."

"Why do you want to pilot the Armunale so badly?"

"Huh?"

Now it was my turn to tilt my head.

"I heard from Grandma you used to be a support maid."

"Yes, she was my junior."

"That’s right. So I’ve actually seen what real battle’s like."

Rene’s expression was heavy. Her eyes flickered, a faint glimmer at the corners, like tears held back.

The way she stood—arms wrapped around herself—wasn’t the cool woman from earlier. Now she looked fragile. Like something you’d want to shield.

“Beyond Jakarta, in the buffer zone between us and the Overd, my unit was stationed. Even in the town where I waited, we took in the wounded. So I worked there, temporarily.”

Support maids stay near the front lines—waiting in nearby towns while the troops are in battle. No one’s around to help with daily life, so we pitch in at field hospitals.

Day after day, the wounded never stopped coming. All I could hear was the sound of their suffering, echoing inside me. Close my eyes—still I hear their agony. Couldn’t sleep right, not even a proper nap. If I didn’t keep working, I’d have lost my mind.

“That’s….”

“Yes. I kept treating them just to stay sane. But every time I did, I’d see the soldiers in even worse pain. I was trapped in a loop—couldn’t stop. Just kept going, numb, like a machine.”

Endless treatment. How much agony must that have been? Rene wasn’t trained for med work—she was a maid, trained to help knights with daily life. That’s why the soldiers’ cries cut so deep into her heart.

Two weeks into that routine, I remember. A soldier was carried into the field hospital where I worked. He was one of my squad’s mechanics. One arm gone, a broken leg, blood pouring from his forehead like a broken faucet. Lucky he made it—treated in time, barely. But that wasn’t the end of it.

A mechanic’s injury. But mechanics stay back at camp, fixing Armunale when they return. Only Armunale riders go to the front lines. So why was this mechanic hurt…?

Yeah. Our squad’s Armunale was destroyed. The enemy broke through all the way to camp. And the only one left alive from my squad… was that mechanic.

That was the worst kind of ending.

Probably then. That’s when my heart broke. The squad disbanded, and I was reassigned with new people—but I refused. Came back here instead.

Rene’s eyes kept streaming tears, no stopping them.

Scared me. Even if it was just a short time, they were my friends—people I’d leaned on, laughed with, lived through it all. But in the end, I didn’t even know when they died. Just… gone. Somewhere I couldn’t see. And the thought of it happening again. Of hearing that same pain, over and over—I couldn’t take it.

What Rene spoke was the truth of war.

Not just pictures or reports. The real thing. The raw horror. The emptiness. It pressed right into me.

"Why do you want to pilot the Armunale? Why go through all that effort… why throw yourself into that battlefield?"

"I… I don’t know."

The words just wouldn’t come.

I couldn’t just say I was doing it because I liked the Armunale. Not like that. It felt like I was trampling right over what she was feeling right now. But—

“Do you know, in that battlefield, that you might die? Have you thought about what it’d be like for the ones left behind?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Then why—!”

“Not bragging, but before I came here, my childhood friend confessed to me.”

I pull the amulet from my chest. Always worn, except when I’m at home. A charm I’ve carried since she gave it to me.

“Was happy, I’ll admit. But I said no. I knew the pilot death rate on the Armunale was high. If she’d clung to me, begged me not to go… I might’ve wavered.”

But in truth—she pushed me forward. Burned her hand making this thing. Sent me off with it in hand.

I wanted to be a pilot of the Armunale. I love moving it—really love it.

Is that… is that more important than someone who loved you?

Honestly? I don’t even know myself.

Hearing about real battle, I finally got it—my resolve wasn’t enough yet.

But not a single spark of doubt rose up, thinking I should give up on being a pilot. Probably… that’s just me.

That’s the real me—the one who, even after being reborn, still wanted to pilot a robot.

So I’m not giving up.

I don’t know if it makes sense, but I just don’t want to lie to myself. She probably loved me because I’m like this. So I’ll go straight ahead. Straight to becoming a pilot of the Armunale.

…

You’re not satisfied with that answer?

If I’d answered like that—because of the people, because of the king, as a knight—I’d have been dismissed without a second thought… You’re just like the captain, aren’t you? The captain of the unit I was assigned to said the same thing. The battlefield’s scary, sure—but even more fun is piloting the Armunale. Imagine living in a world without war, just piloting this thing. What a happy life that’d be.

Yeah, that’s not half bad. Fighting robots is thrilling, but think of the charm in a robot built for building—carrying logs, lifting stones, getting muddy, scrubbing off dirt at the end of the day. If there were jobs like that back in my time, I’d have signed up in a heartbeat.

"Sounds good. Then let's wrap this war up quick. Hand over the rest of the training, yeah? I'll hop on an Armunale and snatch every enemy Armunale in sight."

The endpoint of this little back-and-forth with Overd was clear as day.

Absolute force—Armunale. Take them all, and the gap becomes unbridgeable. That’s the end of this war.

"Encouraging words. Understood. Then I’ll teach you every sword technique I know. My teaching’s strict, though."

Wiping a tear, Rene smiled—soft, warm, like sunlight through a cracked window.

Six months into her training, I’d reached the point where I could face off with Buddyss head-on at the academy.

"Why the sudden upgrade?!"

"Because I trained like I was running from a dragon, that’s why!"

We clink blades, locked in a clash of steel, and talk with Buddyss.

Rene, that smile you gave back then—so gentle, so kind—was nothing like the demon you become during training.

No mercy in those strikes. No mercy in the drills. If your form so much as wavers, she’ll cut right through it—no words, just a blade slicing clean through flesh and bone.

Take off my clothes, and you’d find dozens of cuts, each one just a hair’s breadth from the bone. Right arm’s the worst, then left leg.

At first, she’d be careful—trying not to slice through my clothes. But somewhere along the way, she got tired of it. Started cutting through my uniform without a second thought. Now I train half-naked, just like that.

I was just about to sneak a strike in when she drew a red line across my neck and cheek. Honestly, I thought I was dead then...

"Hey, I’ve been training for years too! Not gonna get taken so easy!"

"Time’s not the issue—density is!"

We trade fierce blows, wearing each other down.

Just as we’re starting to tire, that’s when the fight turns. If you don’t gain the edge now, you’re just gonna get pushed back.

I deflect Batis’s blade, aim the hilt at her belly. She dodges—opens a gap on my back.

She lunges in without hesitation. But if you see it coming, it’s no longer a gap.

I pivot on one foot, spin my body, fall hard—still dodging the blade with brute force. I slam one hand into the ground, channel the shock, swing the sword straight at Batis’s foot.

The slash is dodged by a leap—gives me a bit more time, though, since he’s airborne.

I keep my distance while regaining my footing, resetting my stance, and readjusting my grip on the sword.

"Why the hell can’t you dodge better!? That’s not right!?"

"Practice mostly focuses on evasion and defense, you know."

"Seriously, Eld’s teacher!"

Rene’s been drilling evasion and defense into me nonstop. Honestly, I’d love to learn some actual offense too—but she says, “If you just keep dodging, eventually your opponent’ll wear out. And when they’re tired, any attack’ll hit.” Maybe she’s right. But this style takes forever…

The crowd’s already watching us with a hint of disbelief. Most sword matches end in ten or twenty minutes at most. We’ve been at it thirty minutes already.

"Time to settle this. Lunch’s coming soon."

"What?!"

"Damn it… Batis’s ridiculous stamina’s the problem!"

"You’re not exactly a saint either!"

In the end, we never managed to finish before lunch, and our duel’s outcome got postponed—carried over to the dining hall.

"Men are such idiots, honestly."

"Hey, don’t lump me in with these clowns. That’s why they’re idiots."

Before me and Batis stood a mountain of meat and vegetables, piled so high it looked like a hill. Rayla and Leon stared at it, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Fine—winner’s the one who finishes first. That’s the bet."

"Exactly what I wanted."

"Rayla, give us the signal to start."

"Fine, fine—okay, go."

Rayla yawned, gave the signal, and we dove into the mountain before us.

Biting into steaks, shoving vegetables into our mouths. Washing it down with water, gnawing on bread.

Chewing away, no thought for anything else, stealing glances at the enemy now and then.

Batis was eating just as fast. About my pace, maybe. Then let’s push harder now!

I dunk my bread in water and gulp it down. Batis stared at first, surprised by my move—then got it, and copied me straight away. But I still had the head start.

Just a little gap, and the meal keeps going. Before I knew it, a crowd had gathered. Our table was surrounded by students.

Both have passed the halfway mark—already cleared about seventy percent! Right now, the leader is that boy with the surprisingly sleepy eyes, despite wolfing it down like a madman. According to the intel, he’s Eld, first-year pilot cadet! His opponent, Batis, is going all out too, but somehow can’t quite catch up—no matter how hard he chomps, that back’s just out of reach!

Sleepy eyes? That’s just extra. Wait—since when did we get commentary... and why’s my info being pulled up like this?

Eld’s just finished his veggies! Only meat left now! But Batis seems to have finished his meat already! Can’t wait to see how this choice shakes out—wait, Batis’s hand just slowed down! Still, Eld’s struggling to chew through the meat! Gotta use tough cuts to keep the quantity up, so no surprise there!

Batis hates veggies. That’s why he saved them to the end. Me? I ate veggies to cut through the meat’s richness—so the meat ended up leftover.

But seriously—this meat’s tough. Normally I grab the diced bits, so I never noticed, but a steak? The toughness is quietly brutal.

Jaw’s getting tired. Can’t lose though!

“Whoa! Eld, you’re slicing two steaks at once to save jaw strain! Batis is drowning his in dressing—think that’s too much, is it?”

Batis’s picking up speed now. Trying to drown out the veggie bitterness with sauce. But too late! My plan’s already set!

“This—Eld’s cutting two steaks at once, slashing the time! Now just gotta shove it down the gullet! Batis—pepper! Fork’s stuck on a pepper!”

That’s it—game over!

Shove the meat into my mouth, chew, swallow. Taste? Gone. Just crush the tough meat, bit by bit, until it’s small enough to swallow.

And then—

“Done!”

Clatter—fork and knife slam down. Hands up, arms raised as I stand.

“Ketcha-ku! Winner is Fighter Eld! Batis defeated by pepper!”

“Got it! Got it! Got it!”

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”

Winner throws arms to the sky, triumphant. Loser hangs head low.

There it is—a single, clear end. I’ve passed Batis!

“Hmph. Such fools… I’m off to prep for afternoon class.”

Layla sighs, already walking out of the dining hall.

And me? Well… I was cozy as could be, sleeping in the infirmary with Batis.