2

The incident with the Rayla unit was ultimately classified as an accident caused by part damage.

The culprit was obvious enough, but there was no proof to back it up. The instructor who’d been aboard claimed he hadn’t seen the parts being destroyed, so there was nothing more they could do.

Well, if you’re going to scratch a part, it only takes a blink of an eye—no wonder the instructor couldn’t be blamed.

Just thinking about Faras’s smug smirk when Gazul instructor announced the verdict makes my blood boil.

And two weeks after the accident, the day for live-unit drills came around again.

Today’s machine was the same one as last time—only now, a single sword was strapped to its hip.

"Today we’re doing walking drills in the forest and sword practice. And since Rayla couldn’t train last time due to the accident, she’ll start with walking drills in the grasslands, then move straight into the forest training. Got it?"

"Understood."

"Eld, you’ll support her. You can cover for her, right?"

"Got it. Heh, it’s nice being able to ride the unit for longer stretches, isn’t it?"

I grin, nodding, and the instructor gives a dry chuckle before turning to the rest of the class with his next order.

As he speaks, Rayla steps closer to me.

"Take care of me."

"Leave it to me. I’ll stop you from going haywire, just like before."

"No more stupid mistakes. I won’t give them another chance to get in."

Laira shot a sidelong glance at Pharas, listening to the instructor’s lecture, her fist tightening. Must’ve been some real humiliation back then.

"Yeah. With all this sabotage this year, I’ll have to keep my eyes open."

The instructor said, in a way, this was part of the training. No openings for the enemy, spotting their tricks, then crushing them before they even take shape. Can’t do that? You won’t survive on the battlefield. Maybe it’s better to drop out now.

Harsh words, but maybe necessary when raising elite soldiers.

The drill passed without a hitch, and it was our turn.

I climbed in without hesitation, checking pedals, levers, seatbelt, and all the buttons before start-up. A quick visual once more—making sure nothing had been tampered with. Last time, you wouldn’t even know it was cracked until you stepped on it.

Good—no parts out of whack.

"Initiating."

"Alright."

Getting the okay from the instructor riding shotgun, I power up Armunale.

The monitor flickers to life, showing the other unit beside us.

There’s Rayla, tense as a bowstring, climbing in.

"Is she gonna be okay?"

I watch Rayla’s unit on the screen. She’s checking it like it’s a newborn—no sign of starting up yet.

Three minutes pass. Then, finally, Armunale’s generator hums to life.

"Alright, start it up."

"Copy."

Following the usual routine, I ramp up the generator output and shift into startup mode.

Quickly activate the mic and audio magic, then call out to Rayla.

"How’s your machine holding up?"

"No issues. Doesn’t look like they’re planning on pushing it hard again."

"Good."

"Starting walking drills now."

The moment both our machines switched to active status, Instructor Gazul gave the order.

“Rayla’s unit, advance to the edge of the grassy area. Eld’s unit, follow behind Rayla. Then, Instructor, the rest is yours.”

“Rayla’s unit is moving out.”

Rayla’s machine began to roll forward—slowly, smoothly. No sudden bursts like last time. Just a steady, even pace.

I started moving my own machine once Rayla’s was a little ahead.

Then, I heard the instructor’s voice from Rayla’s unit. Must’ve picked up on the mic.

“Rayla, push the pedals a little deeper. Speed up.”

“Y-yes, sir… got it.”

But no matter what, the speed didn’t increase.

“What’s wrong? Breakdown?”

“No, no—fine. I’ll speed up.”

The instructor’s voice—tight with worry. Rayla’s, breathless, strained. But the machine just… wouldn’t go faster.

I stepped closer to Rayla’s machine, something off in the air.

“Rayla, you okay?”

“Should be fine… I mean, should be.”

“Should be? What’s that mean?”

“My legs… won’t move. Won’t listen to me…”

Hey now—this isn’t the same thing that happened last time, is it? PTSD, maybe?

“Hands okay? Left leg?”

“Hands are fine. Legs… no. I pressed the power pedal just like always—so why won’t they *work*?”

“Rayla, calm down. Breathe deep, just once.”

She followed the instructor’s order, breathing slow and deep. The hatch stayed open, so the cockpit air should’ve been fresh. Maybe that’ll help a little.

“The machine’s fine. I checked it myself. Nothing’s wrong with it. So don’t worry. Take it slow. Just… try to push a little, bit by bit.”

“Y-yes…”

Of course the instructor. He’s nailing down Rayla’s shaky spots just right, easing her nerves with every word.

Then, Rayla’s machine picks up speed—just a little. Not much more than shifting from a normal walk to a brisk pace. But even that small step forward, after standing still, is enough.

“Good. Keep it up.”

Rayla’s machine creeps faster, nearly to a jog. But it won’t go beyond that.

I can tell, because I’m matching its pace. If she pushes any further, Armunale will start running. And it won’t let her. Not even a breath’s worth of extra stride.

Guess the root of the trauma’s running. Yeah, when it went wild, it just kept running. Can’t really blame it.

“I can’t… I can’t move anymore… please…”

“It’s okay. You *can* do this! Believe in yourself! You’ve been top of every class so far, haven’t you? You’ve got the skill—your real-world drills were top-tier too!”

“Move! Please, just move!”

The instructor’s pushing hard, but the Rayla’s speed won’t budge.

“Instructor… can I go instead?”

“What’re you planning?”

“I’ll go out there—same knight, same student. Gonna give it a real shot. You can’t beat a trauma with cold logic, right?”

“Brutal treatment… huh.”

The instructors have pinned their hopes on Rayla. That’s exactly why they can’t stand seeing her break down like this.

We’ve come this far together, haven’t we? You’ve even sparred with me during sword drills—time to return the favor, before the debt gets too heavy.

This world doesn’t leave behind someone who can’t pilot Armunale due to nerves. While Rayla’s stuck, the others keep moving—practical drills, real experience, building a gap no amount of effort can close. It’ll stand right in front of her, unmovable.

A little uneasy, but I guess I’ve just gotta try… what should I do, though?

“Handle the controls. I’ll jump straight over there and give it a good shove.”

“Got it.”

Unbuckle the harness, swap places with the instructor.

Move from the open hatch to Armunale’s shoulder, check the position of the Railea unit keeping pace.

Walking speed—wind pressure isn’t much of a worry. The instructor’s already closed the gap enough; just a little magic, and I’ll hop over without a hitch.

Wait—right.

“Instructor, this thing doesn’t have a personal knockback spell, does it?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”

Good. If I got hit with that, I’d be completely screwed.

Now that I know it’s not there, I can jump over without holding back.

“Aeroslaster”

I activated the magic and leapt straight onto the shoulder of the Rayla unit. I wobbled a bit on landing, but caught myself by hooking a hand on the protrusion of her face, keeping from being tossed off.

Then, I opened the hatch using the external lever and dove into the cockpit.

“Eld? What are you doing!?”

“Sorry about that. I’ve got permission from the instructor over there.”

“Eld? What are you even doing here…?”

Rayla turned around from the pilot’s seat, trying to play tough—but her eyes were full of tears.

One slipped out, tracing a path down her cheek as she turned.

“Come to cheer you up, you big baby.”

“I’m not the one being pathetic!”

“Look at the mess we’re in—what else am I supposed to say?”

Just because I once caused a machine to go haywire through deliberate sabotage—doesn’t mean I’m at fault. And yet, some people turn that into a trauma, can’t even make the machine do what they want anymore. What else is that but pathetic?

“I don’t want to win against someone like that.”

My final goal is perfect Rayla. I’ve pushed myself to catch up to, even surpass Rayla’s record, so I can graduate at the top of this academy. That’s why I’ve endured Rene’s harsh drills, studied like my life depended on it.

Can’t have you giving up like this, now, can I?

“So, time for a little rough treatment.”

I slid my body sideways into the seat, fumbled with the controls, and shut the hatch.

Then, to secure myself, I wrapped my hand around the control stick—right over Rayla’s.

“W-what are you doing!?”

“Like this!”

I shoved my right foot forward hard, stomping down on the pedal Rayla couldn’t reach.

Of course, the pedal went all the way down, and Armunale surged forward, accelerating in a flash according to the motion processor—senseboard.

The G-force slammed into me, threatening to knock me back, but I gripped the lever tight—won’t let go.

“Hahaha! What’d I tell you? You feel it now, right?”

“Kyaaahhhhh!?”

I looked at Rayla—eyes squeezed shut, screaming.

Hey now, if she’s not even looking, what’s the point of me pushing so hard?

“Rayla, open your eyes! Look ahead!”

She blinked slowly, eyelids fluttering open, responding to my voice.

That’s it. Good. Burn this in. What you see from the cockpit—this is Armunale. All of it.

There—pushing harder now!

I yank the lever together with Rayla, forcing the machine into a forward lean. Armunale shifts its stride to match.

Where before it ran straight-backed and upright, now it hunches forward, belly low, cutting through the air like a blade. If I leaned just a little more, it’d be a proper shoulder tackle.

We’re barreling across the grasslands like that.

As we race, I ask Rayla.

“You’re scared of Armunale, aren’t you? Remembering how it attacked your village?”

“N-No! I’m not—!”

“Too obvious, that’s your tell.”

Rayla’s seen Armunale before—by the Empire. Must’ve remembered how terrifying it was when it rampaged last time.

But that’s not it. The feeling you should have while piloting—it’s not fear.

“Scared? This is the speed of the weapon you’re handling!”

“……”

I twist the machine’s direction, plunging straight into the forest.

Crushing branches, felling trees, stomping down raised roots.

“This is the strength of the weapon you’re handling!”

“……”

Like a final blow, I draw the sword at my hip and slice through the surrounding giants in one sweep.

“This is the power of the weapon you’re handling!”

“……”

That should be enough.

I guide the machine back from the forest to the open grassland, then let go of the controls and bring it to a stop.

“How’s that? Still afraid? The strength of a weapon you can handle…”

“…………No.”

“Then how do you feel?”

“Really… dependable.”

Yeah. That’s it. That’s how it should be.

This machine—we’re the ones who’ll be using it. Not the enemy.

So what you feel isn’t fear. It’s dependability. Strength. That quiet satisfaction when you realize how powerful your own weapon truly is. The deep calm of knowing it’s in your hands.

“This is Armunale. How about it—can you manage the pedals?”

“I’ll try.”

The machine starts moving, slow at first, then building speed.

Same brisk pace as before—then the ascent stops.

Laira takes a deep, deliberate breath, locks her eyes on the monitor like she’s made up her mind, and stares at the approaching outer wall.

“Run!”

She slams the pedal down, throwing her whole weight into it.

The maneuvering computer—senseboard—processes the input and sends it through.

The vibration grows. The scenery on the monitor jerks violently up and down. The wind rushing past speeds up, too.

The speedometer picks up the acceleration, needle climbing higher.

"Got it!"

"See? You can do it. So, let’s keep going straight to the outer wall. We’ll wait there for the instructor to show up."

"Got it."

Under Layla’s control, the machine hurtles straight toward the outer wall.

Moving straight across a smooth yet uneven plain isn’t as easy as it sounds. Thanks to the built-in gyros, it never tips over—but slowly, inevitably, it drifts off course.

Layla notices it right away. She checks the instruments, adjusts the direction, sharp and steady.

So she’s got real skill at piloting. The only thing missing was feeling—emotion toward the machine.

Still, that’s enough. That’s exactly the kind of goal I need to focus on.

"Come to think of it… the instructor’s been awfully quiet lately."

Walking across the grass, I notice how quiet the instructor’s been—unlike when I first came in, when he was all noise and fuss. I glance back. There he is, smiling, but behind him, a demon lingers like a shadow.

“Ah… um, what’s wrong?”

A cold sweat beads down my spine under the pressure. Then—his right hand moves. Grabs my head. Tightens.

“Ah—ah—ah!”

“Eld. You’ve been quite the troublemaker, haven’t you?”

“I—I thought this was the best way… I-I-I—”

“Did you say something?”

“No, nothing at all.”

My head’s squeezed so hard, all fight drains out of me in an instant.

“Is that so? Then I suppose I’ll have to punish you for all this nonsense, won’t I?”

“W-what should I do, sir?”

“Clean both Armunale units after class. Scratches are unavoidable—but wash every bit of mud and grime off.”

That… that was—!

“A reward! Gyaahhhhhhhhh!!!”

My scream, picked up by the microphone, was loud enough to reach every pilot student waiting nearby at the academy building.