8

Ran the machine for about an hour. Just starting to feel the burn when the outer wall of the occupied town, Lerst, came into view.

Not as big as Parast, where we’d set up the temporary headquarters, nor particularly vital as a base. But over time, it had grown—thanks to the soldiers from Salza Keep, who’d come here on leave and stayed, drawing people in like moths to a flame.

Close to the buffer zone, so the whole town was ringed by outer walls. Couldn’t see what was inside. But the black smoke curling up into the sky from beyond the wall? Didn’t promise anything good.

As I drew near, a soldier galloped out on horseback.

“Identify your unit!”

“Thirty-first Armunale. Second Pilot Eld. Come to reinforce.”

“Thank the stars!”

“Give me the situation.”

"Currently, enemy Armunale are holed up near the outer wall of Lelst. They’ve taken stranded townsfolk hostage and are holding out. We’ve surrounded the town with infantry and artillery units."

"Artillery alone’ll be tough, won’t it?"

In a world still reliant on wagons, hauling cannons is no small feat. And even if they manage to fire, the loading’s a mess—load one shot, then wait forever to reload. One wrong move, and that Armunale’ll just cut through us with magic, like swatting flies.

"Are they regular enemy Armunale?"

"Yes—green bodies with red lines. We checked from the outer wall. Nothing unusual about their gear."

"Got it. I’ll link up with your unit for now."

Can’t just charge in headfirst when there are hostages. Not with that in mind.

I glide the machine toward the infantry squad gathered near the outer wall.

By the time I reach them, every soldier’s saluting me. That’s right—pilots rank above regular troops. Even mechanics and senseboard coders are slightly higher in status, but they don’t command anyone. Only pilots and co-pilots have that authority. Though, honestly, you don’t use it unless it’s an emergency. There’s a commander on their side, too, and if there is, their orders come first.

I shut down the machine and jump out of the cockpit.

A sudden murmur ripples through the soldiers—then stops cold when I land silently with magic. The murmur shifts into awe.

Magic like this is standard for pilots, but apparently it’s still a novelty to the common soldiers.

“I’d like to meet the commander here.”

“Please follow me.”

The soldier who brought me on horseback led me straight to a tent.

“Captain Abel, Lieutenant Eld of the Thirty-First Armunale Squadron requests an audience.”

“Let him in.”

I stepped inside at the reply from within the tent.

Three soldiers stood there. The man in the slightly finer armor, sitting directly across from me at the table, was probably Captain Abel. The others on either side looked just like regular troops—maybe his second-in-command?

“Lieutenant Eld, Third-First Armunale Squadron, reporting for reinforcement.”

“Captain Abel, of the Special Equipment Corps. Appreciate the backup.”

We exchanged a brief salute, then got straight to business.

“So, what’s the situation? Heard they’ve taken hostages.”

“Enemy Armunale infantry’s rounded up the townsfolk who got left behind, holed up in one place as hostages. No demands yet, but they’re probably asking for safe passage back to their own territory.”

“Can’t we pressure them into surrendering if we tell them the other Armunale units are wiped out?”

“Five out of six are already destroyed—our team’s just starting recovery operations. If we told them that, they’d have to know they’re cornered.”

“Probably not. They won’t believe us without solid proof their entire force is gone.”

Ah. Right. We did beat them—but no way to prove it. Can’t exactly haul the wreckage all the way here, and if they think we’re lying… well, that’s that. Then—

“So we’re stuck rescuing the hostages ourselves, huh?”

“That’s right. Fortunately, enemy infantry numbers are low, and we’ve pinpointed the building where the hostages are being held—so we’ve already assembled a rescue team. Just—”

“The enemy air unit was in the way.”

“That’s right.”

No matter how hard the ground troops push, if that Armunale shows up, the hostages’ll be blown to bits. Honestly, Armunale’s just too damn violent. One of those things can take over the whole battlefield.

“So my job’s to take out the enemy craft while the rescue goes down, right?”

“Would be ideal… but—”

The captain’s voice trails off. I tilt my head. Is my skill in question? I mean, sure, I’ve only been co-pilot for half a year, but I still graduated top of my class from the academy, and I’ve already downed two of those things—so what’s the problem?

I’m still staring at him when he finally starts speaking again.

“The outer walls of this town are over ten meters high. The gates are already shattered—so there’s no clear path for the Armunale to advance.”

Ah, that’s the worry, huh.

“Clearing away the gate rubble would take time, and the enemy might see it as a provocation—risking harm to the hostages. We’ve got to figure something out.”

“Then, that’s no problem at all.”

I’m not sure if the captain’s really been sweating over this, but to me, it’s barely a hiccup.

He blinked at my reply, eyes wide.

“Got a plan?”

“Those outer walls? If the artillery squad lends a hand, we can just jump over them. Heard the enemy craft are clinging to the walls already—might as well hit them head-on.”

That’ll be my third kill today. And a medal to go with it.

“…You’re serious? There’s no room for failure.”

“No problem. I’ve done this once already.”

I answer with a smile, meeting the captain’s probing gaze.

After wrapping up the strategy meeting, I climb into the machine and wait for the operation to begin.

One chance. If either side fails, better to assume the hostage’s life is already gone.

I pour water from my canteen into my dry mouth, then pull the scarf back over my face.

“Alright, about time…”

If the plan’s going as scheduled, the signal should come soon.

I press down on the output pedal, slowly raising the generator’s output.

The rising hum of the generator pulses in time with my heartbeat.

I let my emotions rise, syncing with that steady rhythm—then, from beyond the outer wall, a signal flare bursts into the sky. The signal to begin.

At the same time, I stomp down on the foot pedal and send the machine rolling forward. Right after, the cannon mounted beside me booms out a heavy thud, firing a shell.

The shell slices past me, flies straight ahead, and slams right into the outer wall—chipping away at the stone.

No surprise, really. It’s an outer wall built specifically to withstand Armunale’s might. One shot doesn’t even make it wobble. But that’s exactly what I want.

Even so, no wall’s indestructible—where the shell hit, the stone’s cracked and dented.

That’s what I was after.

I launch the machine forward with a burst of momentum, aiming straight for the dent.

Plant my toes, thrust hard into the hollow—there it is. The trap’s set.

Now, full power!

“Engage!”

Pour every ounce into the foot thrusting skyward—second leap. Reach out again, hook fingers into the edge of the outer wall.

Ah, I remember. The first time I piloted an Armunale.

This is it—exactly like that day. Climbing the cliff in one breath, kicking toward the enemy!

Once I’m up on the outer wall, the town sprawls before me—completely wrecked. Flames rise everywhere. No one’s trying to put them out. The town’s slowly turning black.

I hear swords clashing nearby, screams—probably the rescue team fighting the infantry.

Would’ve liked to help them out, but that’s not my job.

What I need to do—

“Found it.”

Right beneath the wall I just leapt from. One Armunale running across the ground.

Likely heading off to cover an infantry unit. But I’m not letting that happen.

One strike. That’s all it takes.

I matched pace with the Armunale along the outer wall, and just as I heard the sound of it moving along the wall, the enemy machine stopped, turned, and swung its head camera right at me.

“What—why’s an Armunale even out here?!”

“To knock you down!”

I flipped the sword to my other hand and launched myself off the wall with a swing. Aim: straight above the enemy machine.

“What—this isn’t how it—?!”

“That’s the line every war victim says! Not yours! Not your damn line!”

“Ah—ahh—ahhh!”

The blade came down hard, driven by my fall, slicing into the enemy’s head and piercing through the cockpit.

Almost took out the generator beneath it too—got lucky, twisted the blade sideways at the last second, pulled it clear behind my back. The impact warped the sword, sure, but it’s not like it was mine to begin with. Doesn’t matter.

“Three down. Wait—rescue team’s—”

No time for medals. If they fail, all my hard work’s gone to waste.

I switch to the monitor showing the movable camera feed, scanning for the rescue squad.

They’re fighting like mad, guarding a chapel-like building. Probably hostages inside. If they’re holding the line, then the ones inside must’ve already been cleared, right?

Guess I’ll go ahead and announce the mission’s over. Crank the magic mic up to full blast, fill the whole town with my voice. Take a deep breath—

"This is Eld of the Thirty-First Armunale! The Empire's Armunale has been shattered! Repeat—shattered! The enemy's threat is all but gone! Now shift to cleanup operations!"

My words—loud enough to shake the whole town—sent our allies surging forward and sent the enemy infantry fleeing. I reckon that sealed the rescue mission’s victory.

After freeing Lelst, I’d returned to Parast, leaving behind the cleanup crew.

The sun was already tilting low, whispering that the day was ending.

"Phew… fighting back-to-back really wears you down."

I lay sprawled in the squad’s tent, legs kicked up, a damp towel pressed to my eyes, letting my body sag into nothingness.

Right now, I’m handing off the repairs to Orell and the others—time to rest. The sun’ll be setting soon, and we might get a temporary truce till morning. But once I hear Batis has gotten back with the intel, I’m heading straight for Soire Fortress.

After all, Batis and Leon are in there. They’ll be fine—no way they’d croak so easily—but still, I can’t just lie here and sleep easy.

Then, without warning, the tent flap lifts. Someone steps in.

“Eld, you look worn out.”

“That voice… Batis?”

I pull the towel from my face, look up—and there he is, Batis standing at the entrance.

“You, too, have dark circles under your eyes.”

“Haha, guess I pushed myself a bit too hard. Anyway, let me just pass on what I’ve found.”

“Please do.”

Sorale Fortress is stuck in a stalemate. No casualties among the Armunale unit, seems like—though the guards took a real beating. Still, the supply wagons from the patrol squad look like they’re running low. Can’t exactly expect resupply with things in that state, can we?

Yeah, that’s likely.

Trying to flank a larger force just to resupply? That’s acrobatics even I couldn’t pull off.

Night’ll fall soon—fighting’ll slow down. The real clash’ll come tomorrow morning.

Still, good news that no one in the Armunale unit got hurt. Means Batis and Leon are safe too.

Relieved, I’m starting to feel drowsy.

“Tomorrow, before dawn, we head out to reinforce Sorale.”

“Got it. Scouts are on me.”

“Thanks.”

Orell’s crew said they’d have the repairs done by tonight—should make it by dawn tomorrow.

Now I just need to make sure my body’s in top shape.

"Then I’ll catch a quick nap."

"Me too. I’m worn out from moving nonstop."

We each collapsed onto the makeshift beds they’d set up for us—and were asleep in an instant.

After about four hours of sleep, my strength restored, I headed back under the machine.

The machine, repaired during the night, now had its left arm firmly in place.

"Left arm’s back on, huh?"

"Can’t keep limping around with just one arm, can we?"

Orell, his already messy hair now even more ruffled, grumbled, scratching his head hard.

"True enough. I can at least hold tools now."

"Still, I reckon there’s a better use for it… don’t you think?"

Ha. Left arm’s just for locking the weapon, isn’t it?

"Good work for now. From here on out, it's our turn. You take a breather, Orell. Otherwise, you’ll end up like those folks over there—flat on the floor, snoring like a sawmill."

My eyes landed on Ritz, slumped straight onto the ground, and a whole mess of mechanics sprawled beside her, worn out from nonstop work since the battle started yesterday.

They’d been running from repairing machines to setting up the base without a break. No wonder they’re spent.

"Indeed. Leave the rest to us."

"Right. We’ll knock out those Soare fighters quick, and put an end to this ridiculous invasion already."

"Confidence’s good—but don’t get cocky. One slip, and you’re done."

"Yes, sir."

Yeah. This isn’t a game. No continue button here. One mistake, one moment of slack—game over.

Always give it everything. Win with certainty.

I slapped my cheek sharp—gotta get back in the game—then climbed into the machine.

Just as I was checking systems, Bouvier came up from below.

“Good morning. How’re you feeling?”

“Perfect. I’m heading out first.”

“Please do. I’ll be right behind.”

Bouvier headed out past the town.

“Eld Unit, moving out!”

And I followed suit, launching my own machine.

Parast was on the way from the capital to Salza Fortress, so there was still some distance to cover before reaching Soire Fortress.

I was moving across the grasslands under the dark sky just before dawn.

Hard to see where your feet are going—adjusting output on your own’s a pain—so I fired up the balancers and stabilizers and just coasted along at normal mobility.

“Another thirty minutes or so? Should make it by sunrise…”

But if the fight starts the moment the sky turns gray, I might be just a bit late.

I was still wondering whether to speed up when Bougnat slowed down a bit ahead of me.

“Something wrong?”

“Eld, I’d like you to hold back by about ten minutes. I’m going into the fortress to hear the plan. It’ll be better if the enemy doesn’t know about this machine yet—gives us more room to maneuver.”

If we’re going in the usual way, we’d just head straight for the fortress. But if we’re attacking from the woods, it’s better they don’t spot us. The enemy’s probably watching for reinforcements to the Soare Fort anyway. Yeah, better keep our distance.

“Understood.”

Nodding, I ease back on the throttle, scanning for somewhere to hide. Not that there’s much chance of hiding a machine over eight meters long—so I just crouch into the woods a little farther ahead, pretending I’m concealed. Honestly, anyone paying attention’d spot me from a distance. It’s all in the mood, really.

While Bouvet slips into the fort, I chew on some rations and wash them down with water. I’m ready for something warm, something real.

Back in Parast, the supply squad handled meals—could’ve eaten last night if I hadn’t been too tired. Just passed out, missed my chance.

“Finish this today.”

Just the fort left. I want to wrap it up quick, head back to Jakarta. Plenty’s been going on, I’m sure. Ange’s probably worried too.

After a while, Brother Bnois comes back.

“How’d it go?”

“First, I checked with Commander Soire. He says Eld—you’re to stay clear of the fort and push through the woods to hit the enemy by surprise. Also, keep an eye out—some of our patrol units are hiding in the trees.”

“I’ll handle identifying the enemy.”

“Haha, heavy responsibility, that.”

I’m sure Bnois can handle it.

“Then let’s go.”

“Yeah. Light’s starting to come through.”

Sunlight crept through the trees, a small sliver of gold peeking over the edge. Right then, we moved.

As we walked through the woods, I pieced together the enemy and ally positions from what the commanders had said.

I’d thought about linking up with the patrol force ahead, but that might just tip our hand to the enemy, so I pushed it aside for now. For now, I wanted to make the most of our current edge—ideally, knock down a few of them right off the bat.

Just as I was thinking that, a strange battle sound began to rise from deeper in the woods—like the rumble of earth, mixed with the clash of Armunale units.

“Fighting already… the patrol force?”

As I raised my machine, a flare burst above the trees. That was for our side—Benoît’s signal. Which meant—

“Let’s go!”

I slammed the pedal down, and the machine surged forward.

Racing through the forest, I spotted them almost immediately: two Armunale units locked in combat, slashing through each other.

Both looked worn from battle—movements sluggish, frames battered. Honestly, if that’s all they’ve got, they’re not even worth the bother.

The enemy craft flinched at my sudden appearance, but my allies—already aware of me via signal flare—calmly held them in check. I took the opening, lunging sideways to drive my blade through the cockpit.

Too easy. One down, no sweat.

“Third Eleven Armunale, Eld here. Reinforcements have arrived.”

“Twenty-Sixth Armunale, Leon.”

Hearing “Twenty-Sixth,” something clicked. Had I heard that name somewhere before—recently?

“Eld! Eld’s in it?!”

The voice came from deep in the woods, just off to the side.

I turned the camera. Two knights on horseback appeared in the view.

One I knew well.

“So that’s right—Twenty-Sixth was Batis’s unit.”

“You’re Batis’s peer?”

“Yes. Captain Bodwan was injured in combat, so I’m stepping in for him.”

Is Bodwan safe?

No fatal injuries—just got hammered pretty bad, so the bruises are a bit rough.

The mark of that attack’s still clear on the frame. Even with a full day of emergency repairs, we barely managed to weld the left arm back on—no spare parts to begin with.

Right. That move just now was top-notch. Congrats on your first victory.

Captain Worn thought this was my first battle.

Well, that’s true… I correct myself with a quiet chuckle on the inside.

Sorry. This makes four of them.

“What!?”

Since the patrol unit didn’t seem to be picking up much intel from our side, I handed a quick rundown of the Salsa crew’s info to On队长.

The captain was flustered about Salsa’s fall, disheartened by the town’s damage, elated that we’d already reclaimed it, and utterly stunned that I’d taken down three of them. A real whirlwind of emotions. Kind of reminds me of Batis, in a way.

Or wait—maybe it’s Batis who’s like On队长? Doesn’t matter either way.

“Salsa’s side is mostly back on its feet. Once we finish off or push back the enemy here, this whole invasion should wrap up. So, about the supply situation for the 26th unit—how’s that holding up? I was starting to think it’d get tight soon.”

“Yeah, you can see for yourself—the units are a mess, fuel’s running low, and we’re holding back on magic use as much as we can.”

"Yeah, figured as much. I’ll take out a few of their machines—get inside the fortress while I do. Would’ve liked to destroy them all, but once our unit’s inside, they’ll be hard to hit, and the enemy might just pull back."

The way things are now, we’re pinning them from both sides—cutting off their escape. If we make that happen, they’ll probably retreat on their own, knowing they’re cornered. Just took out one, anyway.

"Right. I’m with Eld on this. Let’s radio the other squad. Kurra."

"Got it. Batis, let’s go."

"Roger!"

At Captain Wonn’s order, the knight who’d been with Batis answered, and together they vanished into the woods.

Then, on the opposite side, a red flare shot into the sky.

"Enemy aircraft!"

"Nice one, Bnois!"

I spun the machine around right away and pushed deeper into the woods.

Slipped between the trees, caught sight of the enemy craft—then, right after, a fire lance shot out from it.

Even in the woods, huh? No holding back at all!

Ducking would’ve set the whole forest ablaze, so I dampened the blast with a magic shield, then sliced the beam clean in half with my sword.

“Let’s keep the woods safe, shall we?”

I charged in fast, swinging the blade down hard. The enemy craft blocked it—but they’re worn out from fighting. Movements sluggish. Even a single-arm swing can’t hold me back anymore.

But I’ve still got four more to go. No point wasting energy here.

I jerked back from the blade lock, shifting the sword to my left arm. Funny—I haven’t gripped the left control lever in ages. Well, I’m not using it just ’cause I switched hands, you know?

With my free right hand, I raised the harmonica pistol, aimed at the elbow, and fired.

The bullet, fired at point-blank range, shattered the joint and ripped away grip strength in one shot.

Without pause, I fired again—this time, the opposite arm went limp.

“Now then, that’s the end of it.”

A machine with both arms gone can’t do much.

I slid the harmonica pistol back into my waistband, switched the sword to my right hand, and settled into a thrusting stance.

The opponent stood frozen, dazed—already lost all will to fight.

“P-please… I surrender. Help me…”

“Then get out of the machine. Drop to your knees. Hands behind your head. One twitch, and I’ll crush you.”

“Got it.”

With a hiss of escaping air, the enemy machine’s rear hatch swung open and the pilot tumbled out. Kneeling right there, he did as I said—face-down on the ground, hands clasped above his head.

“Stay put. Our infantry’ll take you from here.”

The enemy machine had surrendered. The fighting was over. But did that count as a kill? The thing was undamaged, after all. Hell, what do we do with the damn thing? Leave it here and risk the enemy hauling it off? Probably better to take it back… but there are still enemy machines in the woods, aren’t there?

I stood there, mind spinning through what came next, waiting for Blois to come back.