7

Waiting for the repairs to the frame and the treatment to take hold.

In the meantime, I filled my belly with something like emergency biscuits and water, just to get myself back on track.

I’d been feeling a bit lightheaded from all the blood earlier, but now that I’ve been resting, it’s gone. I’m back to full strength—no, actually, I’m so wound up I feel like blood might burst out from the bandaged wound any second.

Eld—got the info you wanted.

Benoit came back to the tent where I was waiting.

Thank you. What happened?

Two of the four are still locked in combat with our own machines. The other two— one’s holed up in the town. Since the town was supposed to be our supply line, I don’t know if it’s just waiting for backup or gathering supplies to move on its own. Either way, we should be safe for a little while. A infantry unit with cannons is already on the way.

"Then I'm the last one, I guess."

If they're holed up, no need to rush. Still, a mobile unit's more troublesome than a stationary one—sorry, townsfolk.

"Yeah, there's a unit moving through the grass toward Soare Fort. Scouts are drawing attention, but we don’t know how long that’ll last. Location’s probably around here."

Benoît points to the spot on the map he’s holding. The scouts are slowing them down, but they might be aiming to link up with the force already pushing into Soare. If so, we’d better strike fast.

Still—

"How are they even supposed to manage like this? Don’t see how they’d keep a proper supply line."

"Same here. The way they scattered after losing Salsa was off. Then again, if Soare had fallen too, they might’ve had a shot at securing one."

"Speaking of Soare—where is it?"

Salsa fell in a blink—but no word yet of Soare’s fall.

“Soare’s still holding out—more like, they’re actually gaining ground.”

“Gaining ground? Two against six?”

“Two from the patrol squad just joined in, making four. Looks like they’re flanking, pinning them every time they try to move. Real good commander, that one.”

Ah. So that one heading toward Soare might be reinforcements, sent because the fortress was proving hard to take.

“Then we ignore Soare altogether. Smash that one, turn around sharp—best bet.”

Maybe there won’t be some troublesome thing like that red one after all. Just plain old Armunale from a pure nation—doesn’t seem to need special models, huh.

The tent flap lifted, and Orell popped his head in.

“Eld! Maintenance’s done!”

“Got it! I’m coming!”

I stood up, slapped my cheek hard.

“Feeling fired up, eh?”

“Yeah. I’m not letting this spread any further.”

“I’ll be out scouting too. Got your back, Eld.”

“Thanks.”

Having Bnois cover the scouts is a real relief. Worst case, we’ll have to face four machines—no way I want to be wandering aimlessly through the grass, hunting for enemies.

“Then let’s go.”

“Yes!”

Stepping out of the tent, weaving through the running soldiers, heading toward the machine.

Benoit had already taken a horse to rest and was off in a hurry.

As I approached the machine, Ritz came over.

“Eld, you really gonna go out like this?”

“Yeah, you did change it like I asked, right?”

“Yeah, I did it—still, it’s nuts. You really think you can fight like this?”

“Not a problem.”

Nodding with full confidence, I leapt into the cockpit.

Sitting down, I fastened the belt.

The front’s been wrecked, so I check the feel of the levers and pedals. Levers are fine. The pedals—new ones, maybe? A bit stiff.

I checked the instruments, started up the machine, and Orell scrambled onto it, leaning in from the front, face poking into the cockpit.

“Eld, I fixed it to your specs, but I pushed it hard. Don’t know when it’ll start creaking. Keep the strain on the frame to a minimum.”

“Don’t know if I can fight like this, but I’ll do my best.”

“That’ll do. First, let me go over the changes.”

The upgrade I’d asked for. Orell had pulled it off in barely an hour.

First, I’d had all the shattered monitors removed from the front—just enough to give a seventy-degree field of view. Then the three still-working ones were repositioned to the left lever side, showing Armunale’s current status right there.

Foot pedals and levers adjusted to my touch, and the maneuvering calculator—Karine’s senseboard—was synced just right.

You probably noticed, but I’m swapping the pedals with spare parts. A bit stiffer than usual, so watch your feet.

Yes.

Weapons are two swords and a harmonica pistol. Karine’s set up the magic for you.

Windcutter, Tornado, Fire Lance, Magic Shield, Shock Gravines, right?

That’s it.

These are the spells I’ve got set for when I’m piloting the machine. The base two and the Fire Lance stay as they are, but the rest I’ve had changed to wind-based.

Power’s a bit down, but honestly, it’s easier to think on your feet when you’re using a system you know by heart.

Understood. I’m starting up—step back.

Don’t go dying on me.

Obviously not.

I wait till Orell jumps clear of the machine, then I power it on.

Same old mechanical routine—except the monitor’s gone, and that changes everything.

Feeling the air outside directly? It’s like switching from a carriage to a bike.

“Uh-oh, not good.”

Bike memory kicks in. Right—this unit’s open at the front. Gotta get the wind sealed up proper, or I’ll be gasping mid-ride.

I slip on the goggles I grabbed earlier, tie a bandana over my mouth.

“Eld’s rig’s moving—watch your backs!”

No monitor means I can’t see my feet right. Can’t trust my footing.

Only way to stay safe? Shout it out. I raise my voice a notch.

Then I ease the machine forward, step by step, out of town.

Still tight on sight. This’ll be a rough one.

And yet—my mouth still curls up. I lick my lips, small and quiet, under the bandana.

I dashed toward the enemy machine, guided by the flare Bnois sometimes sends up.

After running nonstop for about an hour since leaving town, I spotted it—red flare in hand, the machine revealed.

Green with red stripes. Imperial craft. A royal scout unit was clinging to it, hurling magic like pebbles to annoy it.

The enemy machine halted, noticing me, and drew its sword. At the same moment, the scouts pulled away from the Armunale.

“Tch, already here?”

“Sorry, kept you waiting?”

“Not waiting at all!”

“Cold as ever!”

I fired a Fire Lance as I ran up. Naturally, it was blocked. The enemy countered with a Clay Lance.

I leaned the machine just slightly—barely—just enough to dodge it. That clay lance whistling past my side, inches from my ribs, sent shivers down my spine. Nothing like the real thing, that’s for sure. Watching it on the screen? No comparison.

But that’s the fun of it.

“You think you’re gonna win with that rustbucket?!”

“Not a problem, I’ve got this!”

Closing in fast, I drew my sword. He drew his too—so I hurled my blade straight at him.

He parried, sure—but just for a split second, his guard dropped.

I didn’t hesitate. I yanked the harmonica pistol from its hip joint and fired straight at his ankle joint.

It’s not strong enough to pierce the armor. But it’s plenty strong enough to shatter an unarmored joint.

As if to prove it, the bullet I fired punched through the opponent’s right knee, tearing apart the inner workings.

The harmonica pistol’s mechanism—built into the grip, a mobility processor (sense board), and a normal engine—automatically shifts the next magazine into place. Back in my old world, those same guns had to be moved by hand. This one’s the real deal.

Caught off guard, the opponent fumbled to regain balance—though, really, his joint’s already broken.

“What the—?”

Unable to support the weight, the damaged joint snapped. The machine toppled sideways, kicking up a cloud of dust.

I slid the harmonica pistol back into its holster at my hip, drew my remaining sword, and unleashed the tornado spell.

Right after, scrambling but still managing to fire a Rock Burst.

Rock Burst isn’t as powerful as Clay Lance, but it sprays tiny stones like shot—wide area, hard to dodge. Not good for my light armor at all.

But if it’s tiny stones, that means they’re light.

I couldn’t send Clay Lance flying with the tornado, not with the safety lock kicking in if someone got too close. But Rock Burst? Low power, so I could still trigger it even if I was near. So I read the move coming and let the tornado loose.

Even a tornado can nudge small stones out of the way.

The spell flared up, and every single stone heading straight for me got blown clean into the sky.

Well. Out of tricks now, huh?

“Final strike!”

I thrust my last blade toward the enemy machine, struggling to rise.

The tip punched straight through the front armor and struck the cockpit clean through.

The enemy machine’s eyes went dark—the sensor board shattered. But then again, we’ve seen that red one before.

I didn’t lower my stance as I pulled the blade free, watching carefully for any sign of movement.

The machine didn’t fall. Just… stayed there. Still.

“Alright, one down.”

Yeah, wasn’t it true in this world that destroying three Armunale units or more earned you a medal? Might as well aim for that.

“Leave this one to me! Bnois!”

“Right, right—wow, what a scramble. Next, which way you headed?”

Bnois appeared at my feet, asking.

Three left. Two of them are fighting our unit, one’s holed up in the town. If it’s still fighting, it’s probably struggling— and if our machine goes down, another town or village’ll be in danger.

Don’t want to lose, not at all. But just in case… I’m not thinking about stealing credit or anything.

“If it’s still holed up in the town, leave it be. Just in case, I’ll go take out the two out in the open.”

“Got it. I know the spot— I’ll lead.”

“Thanks.”

Following Bnois across the grass. Orell told me to take care of the machine, so I don’t push it too hard— just a little slower than Bnois, keeping steady.

After a while, from the small shadow of Bnois atop the gentle slope, a blue signal flare bursts into the sky. That’s meant to alert allies on the other side of the hill.

Which means—there’s enemy craft ahead.

Bnois veers off, descending the hill. Probably too risky to go further—could get dragged into a fight.

I let go of the brakes, throttle up, and charge up the rise.

On the far side, two Armunale blades clash in midair.

“Reinforcements?!”

“Saved… will that be enough?”

The pilots of both machines shout when they spot my machine.

Yeah, I get why they’re nervous. Open cockpit. Missing left arm. But—

“Everything’s fine!”

I’m already barreling down the hill, sword drawn, closing in on the enemy.

The enemy machine tries to break the grapple, but our unit clamps down hard and won’t let go.

“Hold it right there, please!”

“Got it!”

“Not a chance!”

The enemy dips low, then kicks our unit’s feet out from under it, throwing it off balance. But our unit doesn’t go down easy. It swings its sword down hard, sewing the enemy’s shoulder into the ground.

“Nice fight!”

“You damn—!”

The enemy kicks free from our unit, which is still looming over it, then instantly tries to purge the pinned left shoulder and rise. But I’m already close enough—its eyes flick to me, sword raised—and it rolls sideways instead.

Damn, even an enemy’s got decent reflexes. If it had just tried to stand, I’d’ve driven straight through the cockpit.

My sword slipped off target because of the roll—plunged straight into the ground, half-broken in the process.

But I’m not letting this chance slip.

Second Harmonica Pistle of the day.

I ditch the broken blade on the spot, yank the Harmonica Pistle from my hip, aim, and pull the trigger at the rolling enemy.

BANG—like a cannon, sparks fly, the bullet streaks straight toward the machine.

It punches through the cockpit mid-roll—backside of the pilot seat, not the front armor. Doesn’t matter. Hatch side’s still plenty vulnerable.

“One shot, one kill.”

No recoil at all—just like that. The Armunale’s lock-on system makes it dead accurate, and the recoil’s practically nonexistent. Not nonexistent—more like it’s been smothered, forced down, like you’re holding a whisper instead of a thunderclap.

That’s why it flies true to target. I can’t thank the team at the research lab enough—they’ve raised the tech to this level in just a year.

The cockpitless machine rolled a few times across the ground from inertia before coming to a stop.

Just to be safe, I approached with my sword drawn and checked the cockpit.

The front armor held, but inside? A mess. Not even a shape left that could be called human. Well, getting hit straight by a cannon—no surprise there.

Funny, I’ve killed two people already in the past few hours, and neither regret nor joy comes up. Maybe because it’s through the machine? That’s probably what Batis meant by getting used to it.

“Are you alright over there?”

“Yeah, the machine’s fine. Did it work?”

"Yeah, I took out the pilot. I’ll head to cover the other unit—can you handle retrieving the enemy craft?"

"Appreciate it. We’re running low on concentrated mana fluid—Hyimagia Liquid."

Ah. That’s why they weren’t using magic. Guess after hours of fighting, even the fuel runs thin. And the heart, too.

"Thanks. Bonvoy—!"

"Yeah, yeah, top-notch scout here. Met a scout from another squad—got new intel. One more got taken out in a mutual kill. Both pilots dead. Recovery team’s already en route."

"Lotte’s gone…?"

"Knew her?"

"Classmate. Damn it!"

The crack of the lever slamming down echoed across the grass.

I’ve never lost a comrade before, but in war, you hear stories like that all the time. They say the garrison and patrol units at Soare Fort are putting up a good fight, but I sure hope Batis and Leon are still safe.

“Anyway, since the outside threat’s gone, I’m heading straight for the Armunale occupying the town.”

“Yeah. It’ll take about an hour and a half from here, and with horse fatigue to consider, we’ll probably get there faster if I go alone. I’ll head back to Soare Fort, gather intel, then come back to Parast once things are settled. We’ll check the fuel, rearm, and make sure nothing’s wrong inside. And if you spot a scouting party on the way, don’t forget to collect info.”

“Understood.”

Benoît kicked his horse into motion again.

“Then I’ll be going too.”

“You’re not dying, are you! The pilot of Armunale can’t die!”

“Of course not. I’m not satisfied yet.”

This is the first time I’ve piloted this long, and that’s exactly why it feels even more fun.

Not just moving a machine on a screen, not just steering some wheeled contraption—no, I’m riding a two-legged robot right now.

There’s still so much more to do, so much more fun to be had. Not a chance I’m dying here.

This thing, battered and broken as it looks, is doing exactly what I want—perfectly. So I’ll answer it with my own hands.

I borrow a blade from an enemy machine that’s still intact—no point letting a good sword go to waste. While I’m at it, I get the ammo drum swapped out, since the allied unit hasn’t fired a single Harmonica Pistolet. Only six shots total, but two extra rounds? That’s a relief.

To someone who’s never seen a gun before, Harmonica Pistolets are still a bit of a puzzle.

“Temporary HQ’s set up in Parast. Meet you there.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

After waving off the allied unit, I steer my machine toward the town now occupied by the enemy Armunale.