3

That evening, the unit that had withdrawn from the fortress finally joined up with the Locka base.

The officers gathered right away, pooling information from the retreating forces.

I decided to join the meeting too—wanted to hear firsthand from the knight who’d actually fought. Nothing beats a real soldier’s story.

The two called in for intelligence gathering were the fortress commander and Bonne, captain of the thirty-sixth Armunale unit.

“Then let’s hear the report. We’ve gotten a few scraps from the fast riders, but we’re still starved for enemy intel. What happened at the forward base? Tell us.”

The meeting began with the words of Commander Omer. The first to speak was the fortress commander—somehow meek, unlike any commander I’d seen before, who usually looked the part. This one just seemed like a middle manager, worn thin from years of paperwork and overtime.

Even from where I was standing, I could see the sweat pouring from his forehead. Probably not used to this kind of place.

“Ah… um… where should I even start? I just got a plan from a knight and carried it out. Didn’t actually see the enemy myself. Just… a huge number came, so we abandoned and destroyed the fortress, blocked the path, bought some time, and pulled back.”

Oh… totally just a figurehead, this commander. Not seeing anything firsthand, and then saying you don’t know—shouldn’t *you* be the one who’s supposed to know?

The room went quiet. Everyone else probably thought the same thing.

The commander, catching the mood, seemed flustered—sweat pouring out even harder. Like a flood had broken through.

“Alright… then, Bonne. You fought the enemy directly, right?”

Commander Omer, giving up on wringing info from the commander, finally turned his eyes to the captain of the Armunale unit that had actually fought the invading force and taken part in the artillery duel.

Captain Bonne was a woman in her late thirties, vaguely resembling a certain well-known figure—somehow both noble in bearing and sharply trained as a soldier. Though really, anyone who rides an Armunale gets hammered into shape somehow, one way or another.

“Ha! Let me explain the sequence—from detection to withdrawal. The alert came in around one-thirty. I immediately powered up the Armunale and used the city wall’s cameras to scout the enemy. Their Armunale units were unusually numerous—over a hundred on the spot, I was certain. So I ordered the troops to abandon the fort and focus solely on buying time.”

That was the gist of Captain Bonne’s report.

Captain Bonne decided right off the bat that holding the fort was impossible once the enemy horde was spotted. She recommended abandoning the fort to the commander. At the same time, she had the defenders fire the cannons at the slope—intending to trigger a landslide that’d either destroy or delay the Armunale.

No point in trying to blow it apart with cannon fire—no cannon could do that. But a rockslide, falling from above? That might just do some damage.

And it worked—apparently managed to destroy a few units. Not bad at all.

The commander accepted the recommendation. Once the fort’s destruction was ready, she pulled everyone out. As soon as the last man was clear, they set off the explosives. Turned the whole thing into a pile of rubble. All thanks to that, the enemy’s advance bought at least a day—or maybe two.

Honestly… that was probably the best move we could’ve made right now.

Omer, and the other officers too, nodded along as they listened to Captain Bonne’s report.

“Also, regarding the final confirmed number of enemy units—estimated between two hundred fifty and three hundred.”

Three hundred Armunale. Hearing that, the air in the war room turned thick, like stone. Amid it all, Omer managed to keep his voice calm as he spoke.

“Understood. Captain Bonne’s decision was the best we could’ve made. You did excellent work in just a little time.”

“Not at all. That’s simply my duty as a knight.”

Huh. Feels like planning a strategy isn’t quite your style, but then again, it’s Omer—we can’t really expect anything else.

“Anything else on your mind? It’d help if we could learn more about the enemy units.”

I’d love to know that too. In fact, that’s why I’m here, in this meeting.

“Yes—there are two points I’ve been wondering about.”

“What’s this?”

“The enemy’s Armunale’s a fake.”

“A fake?”

I couldn’t help but blink at Captain Bonne’s words, then quickly stammered an apology.

“Him?”

“The First Guard Armunale Division, Second Princess’s Guard Unit—Eld is the captain. He was supposed to retreat to the rear with Lady Ines, but Lady Ines herself stayed behind to defend, so she left him here.”

“So that’s how it is.”

Captain Bonne gave a small bow, and I returned it with a quick one.

“Captain Eld has the same authority as us, so no need to apologize. After all, it’s the captains who’ll be drawing swords in person—of course you’d be curious.”

“Thank you. So… what do you mean, a fake?”

With Captain Omel’s permission granted, I asked again, more clearly this time.

“The enemy’s Armunale—it’s unusually brittle. Not just from landslides, but even direct cannonfire from the fortress left it in pieces.”

“That’s certainly strange.”

Even at point-blank range, I could understand. But if they were firing at an advancing enemy, the range must’ve been just barely within reach. At that distance, an Armunale’s armor shouldn’t have been pierced—and a skilled pilot should’ve been able to catch the shot outright.

That’s why real projectile weapons never really developed in the first place.

“Then there’s one more thing. The enemy units might not be able to use magic at all.”

“Can’t? Not that they won’t—but can’t?”

“Yes. I myself used defensive magic during the defense, and several of the Fireance hits resulted in catastrophic damage. From what I saw, the armor was pierced clean through—seems pretty thin, actually.”

“I see…”

Not being able to use magic is a whole different story from choosing not to.

For an enemy pushing through mountain passes, the remaining amount of concentrated mana fluid—Hyimagia Liquid—is something they’d have to watch like a hawk.

So yeah, I get conserving fuel by not using magic. But if a Fireance is coming at you, you’d think at least a magic shield would come up.

No shield at all, and they’re punching straight through the armor? That makes me wonder if they can’t use magic at all. If it’s more than a few machines, it’s almost certain.

And the armor’s thin—pure Armunale paperweight, really.

“If you’re calling that paperweight an Armunale, then I’ve already earned my Double-Headed Lion Medal.”

“Is that so? Then maybe there’s a sliver of hope after all.”

"Yeah, I can’t say for certain that all of them are real Armunale. But there’s no doubt some of them are—genuine ones, I mean."

Well, that’s a given. If they were all fake, we’d have all the numbers on our side, but still couldn’t take control. Best to hide a few real Armunale behind enemy lines, then strike the base with them when chaos breaks out. That’s the usual trick.

Still, even if there are real ones, there can’t be more than five. So there’s a way.

"Maybe we should rethink the defense line setup."

"True. Then we should add more cannons."

"Shouldn’t we use the narrow path for the main battlefield?"

"No—lure them down the slope and trigger an avalanche."

"Not enough snow piled up yet. Even small ones won’t matter—"

The meeting, thrown into confusion by fresh information, dragged on until deep into the night.

Next morning. I rub the sleep from my eyes and poke my head into the hangar.

There, sitting where there’d been nothing yesterday, was a third Armunale. Probably Bonne’s machine, nine times out of ten.

The hangar mechanics were working at breakneck speed, and it looked like they’d be ready for launch by noon.

“Captain Eld?”

I turn at the voice. There stood Captain Bonne and Captain Azura.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” “Good morning.”

We salute each other, exchange greetings.

“Captain Eld’s machine is something else. That left arm—what’s going on there?”

“Got a left arm in there, more or less. Just… bolted in place. Joint doesn’t move.”

“Fight with just one right arm?”

Captain Bonne stared at me like I’d grown a second head. I gave a wry smile and explained my peculiar way of piloting.

My method’s been making waves in the capital, Fortran, even Jakarta—though here, apparently, it’s still mostly unknown. Probably not much talked about in other blocks either.

Jakarta’s different—there, I’ve fought a few times, and Batis and Leon both use similar maneuvers.

“…A way of piloting like that?”

“Well, it’s pretty rough to get used to. Takes serious practice to master.”

“Yeah, I can’t even imagine letting go of the control stick like that. Not in a million years.”

Ange shook her head, back and forth.

A regular Armunale rider’d probably think the same, I guess. Since synchronization wasn’t even about piloting itself, I just assumed it was natural. And the First Division folks—everyone top-tier—picked up half-manual pretty quick, I guess.

“I’ll try it out after we wrap this up, once and for all.”

“Right. So let’s just finish this already.”

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Wishing each other luck, we three bumped fists—clack, clack, clack.

Five days since I got to this Locka base. Finally, the enemy broke out of their fortress and came straight for us.

They’ve got their dummy units spread out beyond the range of the cannons mounted on the walls—just standing there, looming over the base.

“We are the Overd Empire’s Abnomyle Battalion! The difference in strength should be obvious by now! The base commander, surrender immediately and lay down your arms! Refuse, and your lives are not guaranteed!”

Hearing the enemy commander’s surrender demand from beyond the wall, I powered up my unit.

On either side of me, the Azura units and Bonne units came to life, just like mine.

“I am Commander Omer of the Locka Base! We will not accept your surrender demand! Soldiers of the Fatal Kingdom will never bow to the Overd! Open the gate! All Armunale units, sortie! Annihilate the enemy forces before us!”

As Omer’s order rang out, the gate before us slowly swung open. And on the monitor, a sea of Armunale units. No—those were called Abnomyle, weren’t they? Probably that’s the name of that mass-produced model.

"Right then, shall we? I’d say one hundred per person, but—"

"Even I know that’s impossible. We’d run out of fuel."

"True enough. Even if we’re efficient, thirty’s probably the max."

Azura shot that down instantly. Bonne said the same.

Bonne’s actually fought them with magic—so that thirty must’ve been factoring that in. Then—

"Alright, Bonne, aim for thirty. Azura, fifteen’ll do."

Expecting the same from Azura, who’s got less experience than Bonne? That’d be cruel.

Half of Bonne’s target, then. Fifteen should be fair.

"What about the rest?"

"Mine, of course."

Well then, shall we begin? My dream, my very own machine! You’ll be the scarecrow to make this first battle shine, Armunale!

As soon as the gate swung wide, I shoved the machine into full throttle.

“Fast…”

“Can’t catch up…”

In a flash, I’d left both machines behind—charging straight into the enemy force that had refused surrender and begun their invasion.

First thing, I fired a fire lance at the lead machine. It pierced clean through the cockpit, blowing the whole thing apart.

The others scrambled, raising their left-arm cannons and firing at me. But those old-school cannons were barely working—aiming was a joke—and the shots flew wide, nowhere near me.

“Armunale’s guns work like this!”

I kept firing, pulled the harmonica pistol from the Artifigoj, and tossed it at the enemy machine.

The harmonica pistol couldn’t do much against Armunale’s joints—but it punched right through the dummy armor, clean as a whistle.

Dun, dun-dun—the sound of each shot, and one machine after another crumpled, cockpit shattered, fuel leaking like blood.

Plenty of weapons, sure—but the enemy’s numbers? Just a handful. I aimed for the cockpit every time, no mercy, no second chances.

“Weak! Fragile! Slow! You really think something like this’ll stop me?”

As we closed the gap, the cannons finally lined up—just in time.

One of them clipped straight for the frame. I tossed the harmonica pistol still holding a round without a second thought, then blew the shell apart with a fire lance—shoved its path off course.

At the same time, flipped the switch in the cockpit, shifted my left arm forward into stance.

“Won’t get away—gonna flatten you!”

Closed the gap in a flash, slammed the massive artificium straight into the enemy right in front of me.

Crunch—head and part of the cockpit caved in, a tiny scream wrenched out from inside.

But whatever. Too late for that now.

Stomped forward hard, took out the ones lined up behind in one sweep, sent them all flying.

Opened a gap in their line, shoved it wider—kept pushing.

Drawn the blade, slashed the machine sideways, fired magic to torch the ones behind.

Surrounded, somehow—doesn’t matter. Like being boxed in by paper dolls. No fear. Just… everywhere I look, my prey’s spilling over.

Smile tugged at my lips—almost laughed out loud.

“Captain Eld! You’re charging too far!”

“Captain Eld, are you alright? We’re coming to help!”

The two finally catching up from behind lunged straight into the gap I’d made.

Still—Captain Azura… you think I’m in trouble or something?

“Captain Azura, you could take down thirty of these with your eyes closed. Change the target to thirty!”

“Now’s not the time for that!”

She was about to say more, but I ignored her. Just kept guiding the machine.

I drove my left arm into the ground, using the rotating mechanism meant for drawing weapons to unleash a flurry of sword strikes, kicks, and magic at the enemy soldiers around me.

“Something to say? If you’ve got time to talk, you’d better be killing enemy units—otherwise, I’ll do it all myself!”

“Eh… uh… yeah… I’ll do my best…”

“Do that!”

Even as I spoke, I’d already taken down a few more machines, pushing forward toward my target.

Ahead stood the commander of this squad—and the real Armunale! No point wasting time on these weaklings. To end this fight, I had to crack the head open.

I’d wait till they were thinned out, then go for the head. But that meant getting deep enough to make a shot count!

My sword reached its limit—shattering into pieces in my grip.

Saw their chance, the riffraff all lunged at once. But too easy!

I pulled a new blade from the Artificed Jeweled Staff, and at the same time cast a clay wall spell—cutting off the enemy’s path.

This one’s called Clay Wall. I had Caline draw it in specially for this mission. Assault plan, after all. Had to have a defense spell or two.

I slashed through the three in front, then sent the Harmonica Pistole flying—shattering each enemy one by one, in order.

Then, from a little way off, a shout came.

For a second I thought it was Azura or Borne, but no—seemed like the enemy commander after all.

You’d think you’re safe in the back, right? Then—bam!—they come at you out of nowhere. I can’t really blame them for panicking. But giving away your position? That’s downright generous!

I hurl a spell toward the sound, then charge straight in.

The voice grows louder—shouting, “Kill! Kill!”—clear as day.

“Got you!”

There he is—chubby, flailing on a magic carriage.

“What are you doing?! Protect me, quick!”

A machine tries to block my path, brave little thing. But it’s crushed flat by Artifigoj.

And now—no more obstacles between me and the commander.

I fire off a Fire Lance—immediately.

But before it hits, another machine steps in and blocks it.

“Not bad for a little runaround!”

“You’re the real deal, aren’t you?”

That machine—it’s the real Armunale. Which is why the Fire Lance fizzled.

“You’re too dangerous! I’ll take you down right here!”

“Hah—go ahead and try, if you can! I’m feeling perfect right now!”

Clashing blades, pushing forward in a deadlock. With one arm each, I’ve got the edge in strength.

“Hmph.”

“Here!”

I lunged forward, forcing the enemy machine back. Seizing the opening, I sliced through a few stragglers closing in, ripped off their heads, and flung them toward the Armunale.

“So how’re the other two doing?”

While the enemy regrouped, I glanced back to check on the other two.

They’re back-to-back, shielding each other, clearing out enemies smoothly. Back-to-back like heroes in a tale—kinda nice. Me? I’m the villain through and through.

“Haaah—!”

The enemy unit batted the head I’d thrown aside with its shield and charged straight at me again—no sign of using magic, careful not to hurt the surroundings, I guess.

I messed up handling these humanoid machines on a large scale. First time using them, so I suppose they were packed tight like infantry, but these things don’t move like people. Not fast, not agile. What happens when you pack them like that? You get cut up, and then you’re afraid of friendly fire—just like now. They’re completely neutralizing Armunale’s strengths!

I fired a flame lance at the enemy’s feet to slow its charge. In that moment, I shattered one nearby unit’s leg, let it fall, and shoved the wobbling machine forward—right into Armunale’s path.

The enemy machine staggered, trying to dodge—off balance, wobbling like a drunk. Just parts? I could’ve knocked ‘em flying. But with a person inside? No way. Good thing the pilot wasn’t some monster.

I threw my sword straight at the enemy’s cockpit. It punched through, and the machine blew apart in a burst of sparks and smoke.

Then I pulled out the last harmonica pistol stored in the Artifigojue and fired it at the rolling Armunale—wobbling, tipping, still alive.

The bullet shattered the fingers gripping the sword and blew apart one knee joint.

“Still not done?”

“Game over.”

I swung my left arm down hard—right at the enemy machine still trying to rise.

Artifigojue tore through the head, all the way to the cockpit. The pilot didn’t stand a chance. Crushed.

“Now… where are you hiding?”

Armunale should’ve had a few more behind her. Maybe if I aimed for the commander, she’d show up again?

That’s what I was thinking—while fighting, I’d already lost sight of the commander. So I started tearing through the wreckage all over again.