1

It’s already been a year since enrollment.

I’ve been studying history steadily, training with Rene every day, and steadily sharpening my skills—no grand leaps, just steady work.

Thanks to that, I managed to snag second place in the year-end exam after all!

And today’s the first class of the second year. Name of the game? Real-machine drills!

That’s right—live training! Actual training with the real thing! We’re actually going to get to ride the Armunale!

Even though it was an hour before class started, I’d already made it to the field, neck craned and waiting, just waiting.

There, Instructor Gazul showed up.

What’s this, Eld? Early for once? Misjudged the hour, did you?

No, I was so excited I couldn’t wait and came early.

“Kukk, so that’s it—full of fire, aren’t you?”

Yeah, I’ve been waiting a whole year—my body’s all twitchy from it.

Right then, I’ll show you something proper. Keep an eye on the outer walls.

"Outer wall?"

I follow the instructor’s gaze, eyes locking onto the outer wall beyond the grassland.

And then I notice it. A section of the wall is slowly opening.

"The wall... it’s moving."

"Already showing up."

"Wait—!"

The walls parting left and right. And beyond them—two Armunale units.

Their entire frames painted pure white, no swords or gear at all—just raw, exposed metal.

And then they begin to step forward, walking slowly into the ground.

That means!

"Those are training machines?!"

"Right. The only two dedicated training units in the academy. Sure, when the war kicks in proper, they’ll be outfitted for real combat and sent to the front. But for now, it’s just skirmishes. Which is why the king had them sent over here."

"Awesome! Awesome!!"

Armunale moved across the grass, growing larger with each step, straight toward us.

Seeing Armunale again after about a year—she shimmered under the sun, blindingly bright. If a battle-worn unit had the worn, battle-scarred look of aged silk, this was something different. Pure silk. Not a single stain. A garment so beautiful it made you stop and stare.

“Today, I’ll let you handle this unit yourself. Eld—wasn’t it you who actually piloted one before?”

The instructor seemed to know about my background, probably from the commander. Well, I’d been shoved into the seat by recommendation after the exam, so it made sense they’d explain things.

Still… I bet that surprised them. Here’s a student, recommended straight in, who couldn’t even hold a sword properly at first.

“Operated it, fought for a short time, even did the garage parking.”

“That should be enough. Probably won’t get much of a workout out of it today, though.”

“No problem! Just being able to ride Armunale makes me happy! Can I go take a look at the feet? Please?”

“Ah… yeah.”

“Then, excuse me.”

Two Armunale units halted right beside us. Instructors stepped down from their cockpits.

I walked past them, headed straight for the feet of the Armunale, and touched the surface directly.

The armored soles, a little dusty from walking through the grass, felt oddly familiar.

Funny thing—where’s the one I handed over now? Probably finished with maintenance by now, and deployed somewhere. A year’s worth of time, after all.

I was scanning it from head to toe, completely absorbed, when I realized—more than thirty minutes had passed.

Students started gathering, and I spotted Layla among them.

“Layla, good morning.”

“Yeah, good morning. You’re here early, huh?”

“Gotta get ready for the real thing. Couldn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Then you’d be a joke if you messed up. I’m counting on it.”

“Shut up. You think I’d mess up now, with the controls?”

My piloting skills are burned into my bones—no way I’d slip up just ’cause I didn’t sleep.

Ten minutes before, the whole lot of flight cadets had already filled the ground.

Fourteen of them.

After three days of spring break, that’s down a fair bit.

Yeah, ever since we passed the six-month mark, a few had quietly dropped out or switched departments. Still, change always hits hardest at the turning point of the year.

Over fifty students, now less than half. Most had dropped out, but about ten had quietly switched to maintenance or reconnaissance—people like Bouvier, stubborn enough to keep their hands on the Armunale no matter what.

“Alright, time’s up. Let’s begin the live exercise! Gather around me!”

Gazul, our instructor, called us to attention and started explaining today’s lesson.

“We’ll be running actual Armunale drills with these two units. Start from a complete stop, go through the startup sequence, then walk a full loop around the grassy area. Should take about thirty minutes per person, tops. And since it’s our first time, I’ll be riding along with you—just watching from behind. If anything goes sideways, I’ll step in. Don’t worry. You’re covered.”

Hmph. I’ve always handled the startup, the ignition, the whole thing—on my own. But normally, there’s supposed to be backup, right? Still, it’s not that complicated. Probably just being careful, that’s all.

“Step forward, those whose names were called. Mars, Fort.”

The two called forward give a thumbs-up and step out from the group. The rest of us—including me—shoot them jealous looks.

Under those glances, they climb aboard the Armunale with the instructor, hands on the controls, humming with magic.

“Good. Leave the hatch open. Now, give it a try.”

Following Gazul’s orders, the Armunale powers up. A low thrum vibrates through my gut. Familiar sound. Once it’s fully running, it’ll grow louder, rougher, wilder.

“Next, ignition. Take your time. Don’t rush.”

The generator’s hum grows, trembling through the ground just slightly. Then, Armunale’s eyes flare bright.

Huh. So it’s got a little light-up feature when it starts up. Always watched from inside, never noticed that before.

Still, glowing eyes are a nice touch. Instantly clear when it’s running.

“Once it’s online, keep the sound capture and mic magic active. Those two stay on without much drain on the concentrated mana fluid—Hyimagia Liquid.”

“Got it.”

“Understood.”

Voices from both Armunale units echo back, confirming the magic mic is active.

“Can you hear me now? If you can, answer.”

The instructor speaks, not shouting like before, but just loud enough to carry in a classroom.

“Hearing you.”

“Fine.”

They answered right away. Both had activated their sound-amplifying magic, solid and clear.

The instructor nodded, satisfied—uh-huh, uh-huh—and moved on to the next instruction.

"Alright, let’s start walking drills. Do it just like I showed you. No rush. Take your time. Start with Mars."

"Got it. Mars unit, moving."

All eyes were on him, tense and still, as the machine carrying Mars slowly lifted one foot.

Then—*thud*—a heavy, deliberate sound as it took its first step.

Next, the other foot followed, step by step, inching forward across the grass. The pace was slower than when I’d ridden Armunale out of the village.

But Mars was thrilled.

"Did it! I moved it!"

Yeah, I know. That first time you make a humanoid machine walk—gives you chills. I cried just turning mine on.

Good job. Hold it right there for now. Next up—Fort.

Understood. Fort’s moving.

The other one, waiting too, started up just the same. Voice cracking with the same kind of awe.

Guess everyone really likes Armunale, huh.

"Alright, walking drill starts now. Both of you, follow your instructors’ commands and circle the field."

"Understood."

The two machines began to move, slow at first, gliding around the grassy plain.

At first, they were barely faster than walking—but soon, their pace picked up, until by the time they reached the turnaround, they were moving at a pace almost like a proper march.

After about thirty minutes, both machines returned to us.

"Good. Drop the generator and get down. Instructors—stay put, please."

The machine’s generator clicked off, and silence settled back over the field. The two who stepped down were visibly buzzing with excitement.

They chattered to each other—laughing, wiping sweat from their brows, words tumbling out like pebbles in a stream.

“Time’s tight. Let’s go—no time to dawdle.”

The instructor called up two more, and the drill went on just the same.

Almost all the pairs had finished. Just Eld and Rayla remained.

Four hours of waiting, breath held, ears straining for our names. Feels like forever…

“Now, Eld and Rayla. Into the machine.”

“Got it!”

“Yes!”

We scrambled up to the cockpit in one breath, throwing ourselves into the seats. The instructor, waiting below, blinked in surprise—but I had no room for such things right now.

Fastened the seatbelt, checked the pedals and levers for any hitches—just like always. Ready as ever, waiting for the instructor’s word.

“M-maybe it’s still no good?”

“Just wait a bit longer. She’s not on board yet.”

“Why’s it taking so long just to get in! Leia! Get in already!”

“Ugh, hush. I’m getting in, I’m getting in. Instructor, please take care of us.”

Leia finally climbed into the cockpit.

“Sir!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get this thing started.”

“Yes, initiating Eld’s machine.”

Pressed the start button. That familiar rumble traveled up through my seat. The monitor flickered on, showing the world outside.

Grabbed the lever—suddenly, that razor’s-edge battle came back. Gently pressed the pedal, boosted the generator’s output, readying for launch.

Laira started up her unit a little behind me.

"Alright, let's get this thing going!"

"Been waiting for this!"

I revved the generator, pushing into the second stability zone.

"Initiating."

I pressed the start button—Armunale came alive.

Ah, that drive sound. The weight of the lever, the dials lighting up on the screen—everything’s so familiar.

Next to me, Laire’s machine transitioned into startup mode. The way her eyes sparkled and her face lifted just slightly, every time—still beautiful to watch.

"Alright, let’s begin walking training. First, Laire."

"Y-yes!"

She’s acting unusually tense. Well, she’s been through hellish drills in swordplay and magic, but piloting? That’s all I could cram into her head. No surprise she’s nervous.

Now that’s where I’ve got the edge. First place in piloting? That’s mine.

The Rayla unit slowly lifted a foot and took its first step. Zushin, zushin—the heavy, deliberate pace of the machine made it feel like a stone golem.

After advancing about twenty meters, I heard the instructor aboard the Rayla unit give a new command.

"Then speed up and show me."

"Understood."

Following the instructor’s order, Rayla must have pressed the pedal. The machine dipped slightly at the hips, preparing for a strong step forward.

At that instant, Rayla’s microphone caught a sharp crack—like something breaking. Immediately after—

"Kyaaaaaahhhhh!!!"

As if that single step had been nothing more than a warm-up, the Rayla unit dropped low and shot forward at full speed.

"…………huh?"

Armunale, now tearing across the grassland at full tilt, left Rayla’s shriek behind and plunged into the forest zone.

"The instructor?!"

“Can’t do it—gotta be thrown off!”

The instructor, caught off guard by the sudden lurch, couldn’t hold on with the hatch still open and was flung clear.

Managed a smooth landing with magic, so no harm done—but now, that Armunale was clearly being piloted by Rayla alone. Judging by the wobbling, she wasn’t even close to in control.

“I’ll take over.”

“W-wait!”

“Hold on tight!”

I warned the instructor, then flipped the hatch lever shut. No more danger of being tossed out. Now he’d just have to grab onto something nearby.

“I’m switching in.”

“Don’t waste time unfastening your belt. If we keep this up, Rayla’s gonna crash straight into the trees.”

Only because it was open grassland that she’d been able to drive straight. Once inside the forest, they’d have to dodge trees, sometimes even crush them underfoot. That wasn’t just steering—it was a whole different kind of mess.

If we keep going like this, Armunale’s bound to tip over. And not just that—she’ll drag everything around her down with her, and Layra won’t have time to brace herself. She’ll slam hard into the belt, full force.

Might even break a bone from the pressure.

I’m pushing Armunale at full speed, chasing Layra, shouting into the mic.

“Layra! Calm down! Get your foot off the pedal!”

“I *am* off it! I can’t stop—my foot’s off, but the pedal’s still down!”

“Seriously?!”

If the pedal’s stuck, that’s a mechanical failure. But could that even happen? Not in a battlefield, sure—after all the jostling and crashes. But just walking through a meadow for a few hours? That shouldn’t break anything. Not normally.

So if something *did* break… that means someone messed with it.

“Instructor… could it be…?”

Can’t tell for sure without checking, but it’s probably tampered with. The one who was riding that machine just a moment ago—

“That bastard Falas!?”

Rayla was on it right up until she boarded. Falas. The low-ranking noble who egged us on during the first test. He hung on stubbornly, even if he’d fallen a bit behind us, the top of the second group, should’ve been.

But even if he hates us, would he pull something so obvious? No. Without solid proof, we can’t say anything—we’d just be stuck with calling it an accident.

“Every year there are a few who rig things to knock down someone stronger, but this is the first time I’ve seen anything this rotten.”

“Could get someone killed, you know!”

I adjusted the pressure fine, leaned in, and caught up to Rayla’s machine.

“Rayla! You hear me?”

“What?!”

“I’m stopping it by force now. Hold the lever tight—brace for the shock.”

“W-wait, what’re you even planning?!”

Rayla’s voice crackled back, strained.

“Eld, what’re you doing?”

“I’ll knock it over. If we catch it right, the impact should be light.”

“Are you mad?! You’ve only just started it today! And if we shut the generator down, the whole thing’ll stop!”

“Don’t be stupid! If you fall at this speed without a proper roll, you’ll be dead!”

I didn’t think Rayla could manage the controls just right, not now, not with the panic in her voice. If we were stopping it, we needed to slow it down somehow—no way to do it safely otherwise.

“But you—”

“Shut up! I’ll bite my own tongue if you don’t stop yammering!”

The trees were right in front of us. No time for arguing now.

I darted alongside the Liera machine’s left side, leaned just a little forward, and stretched my right leg out toward its front. The Liera machine, just plodding along, tripped over my foot and pitched forward, off-balance. If it fell now, it’d be the same as a generator shutdown or keeling over in the woods—but I’ve got arms, thank you very much.

I wrapped my arm around its waist to catch it. The recoil was strong, too strong to fully absorb, but I could at least cushion the blow enough to keep from dying.

As I felt my own machine lift off the ground, I twisted midair, pulled the Liera machine into my fall, and slammed both of us into the earth.

“Eeek!”

Skidding hard through the grass, tearing up the earth with a rough, grating noise, my machine came to rest underneath the Liera machine, slowing down.

The pedal, stuck since the crash, lifted up—Liera’s machine came to a halt.

Now’s my chance to drop the generator.

“Instructor, are you alright?”

“N-no… I’m fine… Liera, you—”

“Liera, you okay? Liera?”

No answer.

“Looks like she’s out cold. Gonna check on her.”

“I’ll come too. If the foot pedal’s busted, we’ll need to fix it.”

“Roger.”

Pssh! The hatch pops open. I leap across to the other side.

Sliding into the cockpit, I tap Liera’s cheek—no response.

No visible wounds, though. Probably just a concussion?

“Is Liera alright?”

“No external injuries. I’m taking her out now.”

I unclip the seatbelt she’s leaning on, catch her as she slumps.

“Excuse me a sec…”

I lift Layla up as is, carry her out of the pilot’s seat and shift her onto my shoulder.

The instructor waiting outside steps in, takes over, and starts checking the foot pedals.

Still holding Layla close, I ask the instructor.

“How’s it look?”

“Can’t say for sure if it’s tampered with, but the pedal spring’s cracked.”

“Huh.”

If the spring that pushes the pedal back is broken, the pedal’ll just stay flopped down. So they used that to send the machine into a runaway.

The instructor says he can’t tell for sure, but it’s almost certainly Faras’s doing. The thing held up fine during regular walking, so they must’ve carved a deep groove in the spring—just enough to snap when dashing.

Clever little bastard.

I grip Layla tighter without thinking, and her brow twitches—just a little.

“Oops. Waking up?”

“Where… is this…”

"Outside the机体."

Layla turns her head, glancing around. Then her eyes lock onto my face—right there, just inches away. After all, I’m holding a princess like this! It’s practically nose-to-nose.

Her face slowly reddens. She’s usually so cool, so casual—this flustered reaction is kind of a riot.

"Does anything hurt?"

"D-Don’t worry, I’m fine. Can you put me down now?"

I deliberately ignore the request. The feel of her thigh through the gym shorts is kinda nice.

"You were just unconscious a second ago. Stay put for a bit."

"Eh, but… you know, I’m kind of heavy… uh…"

"Nothing of the sort. If anything, you’re light as a feather."

"Seriously, put me down already!"

Her embarrassment hits the breaking point—she squirms in my arms.

"Hey! Stop that! You’re on Armunale’s shoulder, you know!"

You’ll be more than just bruised if you fall from up here!

Reluctantly setting down the squirming Rayla, a weary-looking instructor steps out from the cockpit.

“Cut the nonsense, you two. Explain to Gazzle instructor what happened. And while you’re at it, grab some replacement parts.”

“It’s not a lovers’ quarrel!”

“Got it. So we’re using that machine, then.”

I climb back onto the craft, dragging Rayla—her face crimson with embarrassment—back toward Gazzle instructor.

Stock’s empty…