Four

Three rounds left in the harmonica pistol. Seven swords remaining. Against that, the enemy numbers—roughly two hundred. Counting on the two behind me to handle another twenty, that leaves one hundred eighty. A sword per twenty-six units, if we’re counting. That’s pushing it, honestly. Even if we use magic, we’d want to take them down more efficiently. But the truth is, Armunale wasn’t built for one-on-many situations.

Well then—might as well use their weapons too.

I decide on the spot, shift into action.

I swing an Artificious Gouge at one charging unit, sending it flying. With my right-hand sword, I pierce the cockpit of another.

At the same time, I snatch the sword from the enemy’s grip and bring it down on yet another machine.

The enemy machine’s sword snapped clean in half, slicing through armor like paper. Guess they’re using some real junk for weapons.

Cutting corners like this? That’s going too far. Did they really think something this flimsy could stand up to Armunale?

A proper technician ought to know better—should’ve realized they’d lose the moment they built it.

Or were they counting on some other trick?

I kept wiping them out, doubt gnawing at me—until, finally, one of the units near me raised its left arm and fired a cannon straight at me.

Naturally, the shot missed. The bullet clipped the enemy behind me instead.

“You could’ve killed someone with a stunt like that,” I said.

Snatching the sword from the fallen machine, I drove it through the pilot seat of the one firing the cannon.

A scream—mad as a trapped beast—ripped from the machine.

“Damn it! Why!?”

“Not just one of these things!?”

“I don’t wanna die here!?”

“If I make a name for myself now!?”

Even with so many of their comrades already dead, the voice still crackled with fight. Not a shred of surrender. Not even a flicker.

Yeah, maybe there’s a reward for pulling off something big. But even a rookie could see that—how the hell could someone who’d never fought Armunale before hope to beat one that’d already seen battle?

I triggered Claywall beneath my feet. The earth surged up, hurling me skyward in one smooth leap.

Then, falling, I checked the area around me.

If there’s a real Armunale around here, it should be behind those paperweights.

I swung the camera toward them—three units lined up at the very back. And nearby, the stolen magitech cart had come to a halt.

So that’s where the main force is, then.

One of the Armunale units stepped forward, as if sensing we’d been spotted by my jump. Looks like it wants to play.

Then I’d better set up the battlefield before it gets too eager!

“You lot—take a nap!”

I landed, instantly unleashing a tornado spell that knocked over the surrounding units, then followed up with a fire lance that punched straight through the cockpit.

—And then, from behind the paper-thin wall, ice spears rose up. In a flash, they multiplied to ten, and all fired at me at once.

I shoved Artifigojue in front of me, blocking the ice spears heading straight for me.

A sharp crack—ice shattering—ran through my frame, but that was nothing. The Armunale, shielded by magic, wouldn’t break from such a hit.

But if magic was fired…

“Here you are!”

“Not gonna let you play around anymore!”

The machine lunged out, slashing straight at me.

I yanked my sword from Artifigojue and caught the blow midair.

“You’re stopping here!”

“Hah—can you really expect a weak shadow like you to stop me?”

“Don’t you dare underestimate an Imperial Knight!”

From the lock, I forced my way forward, pushing them back.

They recovered fast, drawing a second sword in their left hand and closing in again.

I sprinted toward the enemy, tossing my sword as I went—then switched control to my left arm, swinging wide in a horizontal arc.

That iron pillar’s too heavy for both swords to block.

The enemy parried my thrown blade and immediately locked the machine’s legs in place.

Of course, my swing missed—twisted me hard the other way, like a wind-up toy gone wrong.

“Open! Open!”

“Not a chance!”

They were aiming to cut off my left arm first. Two swords lunged straight for the shoulder joint.

But I jammed the Artifigoj into the ground, forcing myself to stop dead mid-motion, then used the momentum of the machine’s shift to lift myself up—like a pole vault.

The machine lifted into the air, and I balanced on my left arm, one-handed, upside-down, like a clumsy acrobat.

Gravity’s tugging me off the pilot seat, but the seatbelt holds tight—good thing, too.

“Wha—!?”

“Here!”

From above, I thrust my sword straight at their head.

They swerve the machine at the last second, but not enough—my blade slices through their left arm.

“B-but!”

Their machine, left arm gone, swings their right arm at me as I fall, obeying gravity.

But I saw that coming.

I spin the Artifigoj, force the machine to twist midair. Shoulder’s a bit strained—still, glad I had my joints reinforced for all this heavy gear.

Dodge the slash, skid to a stop on the ground.

“What—what *are* you?!”

That was pure, unfiltered fury from an Imperial knight.

Yeah, I get it—anyone’d yell like that their first time seeing something that moves like that. But this is a battlefield.

“Got time to scream?!”

I yank Artifigoj out from the ground, switch to the harp pistol with barely a round left.

“Should’ve moved the damn thing earlier.”

The bullet snaps out—perfect shot. Right elbow blown clean through.

“Gahhhhh—!”

Armunale, both arms gone, hurls an ice lance.

The magic shield weakens the bond, and the spear shatters against my armor like old ice.

“Here? Here of all places?!”

With no way left to fight, I sprint forward, sword drawn for the killing blow.

Right then—fire lance and ice lance pierce the ground right at my feet.

“Your effort wasn’t wasted.”

“Not bad for holding on, huh?”

“Just the rest of them, huh?”

Looking toward where the spear had come from, there were two Armunale.

The remaining units, waiting in the rear.

So they’re finally serious now, huh?

“Step back. We’ll handle this.”

“Sorry to take the easy part, but that’s the plan.”

“Apologies—count on me.”

The crippled machine vanished beyond the papier-mâché wall.

For a split second, I thought about chasing after it—but those two wouldn’t let me get away with that.

We’ll take them all down anyway. So what’s the harm in finishing these two first?

Decided, I raised my sword.

“You think one of you can take us on alone?”

“Now that’s pushing it. Well… maybe it’s unavoidable.”

“Never thought it was crazy. No matter who you are, I’m not losing.”

“Now that’s confidence.”

"Sure, your arms are top-notch. I’ll give you that. But even things have their limits."

"What?"

I scowled, not catching what he meant—when the two officers behind me spoke up.

"Captain Eld, fuel's running low!"

"Same here—don’t have much left."

"Damn. That’s the real problem."

We’d been fighting nonstop for over two hours. I’d been tossing magic left and right, drawn in by how soft the enemy’s armor was.

Now the two behind me were running dry on concentrated mana fluid—Hyimagia Liquid.

I’m still good, thanks to the reserve tank inside the Artifigoj. But facing two Armunale units? My gear feels a bit thin.

If those two go down, we’re done—can’t hold back this dummy battalion.

"Guess that’s how the plan works, huh."

Placing a mass of量产 units up front, forcing the Armunale squad into action, then hitting hard with the real Armunale once their fuel starts running low.

A numbers game, sure, it works.

“Now, your machine’s fuel’s about to run dry, isn’t it?”

“Surrender—now, and we’ll greet you with a special treat. Just a single machine, and you’ll be a prisoner of war, no worse than that.”

“Don’t be an idiot. We’ve got enough fuel left in two machines to finish this.”

Guess they think my machine’s nearly out too. No need to correct them. Let them believe it.

The real problem’s the armament. Harmonica Pistre—just one shot left. Sword—five blades already gone.

"Fall back to the base, you two—keep those dummies in check. If we're tight, they're tight too. They can't push through force."

"Captain Eld!"

"I'll take down two here."

"Good one."

"Then I'll play with 'em!"

As I finished speaking, the two machines lunged forward.

They charged at me from both sides, unleashing magic from either flank.

These two—real good at syncing up. Always worked together? Or some kind of shared rhythm?

I dampened the magic’s force with my magic shield, then dashed toward the one on the right.

"Ah—me, huh?"

"Doesn’t matter either way!"

Same-looking machines—how the hell would you tell who’s in which?

I thrust the Artifigoj forward and charged straight in.

The opponent stepped sideways and dodged it, then swung the sword down without pause.

I caught the descending arm and blocked the attack.

But the left arm was still free.

As expected, the enemy gripped the sword in their left hand and lunged toward the cockpit.

I countered at the same time—hooked their leg, yanked their arm, and sent them sprawling.

“Tch.”

“Hah!”

Just as I’d brought one machine down, another came at me from behind.

I spun around, stomped on the fallen unit, and blocked the slash with the Artifigoj.

Then shoved the enemy away with all my strength.

“Still got that much strength left?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not running low on fuel!”

“Ah, yeah, yeah. Pretty much out, I’d say.”

You damn liar! Thought you could pull one over on me?

When I answered in a flat tone, a noisy voice came from the crushed machine, so I stomped my foot right there and pressed down again, then drew my sword from the Artifigouge.

“Ghah—”

Sorry to deceive you—war’s war, you know.

Not on your life!

I swung my sword down at the machine at my feet—then it hurled back the sword it had been holding, flung at me like a stone.

It clipped right against my sword—veered off course.

The tip of the blade bit sharply into the ground beside the pilot's seat.

Don’t step on me forever, you know!

While the attack fizzled out, the machine beneath my feet sparked to life with magic.

Ice lances formed before my eyes, shot straight for the cockpit. Even at this range, no way to avoid damage—magic shields won’t hold forever.

But missing this chance to take down one right here? That’d be a waste. The flow’s on our side now. Can’t just let it slip through our fingers like that.

I decided on the spot—lowered the frame just enough to sacrifice the head, barely dodging the spear. Would’ve been nice to twist my neck and avoid it, but the Armunale’s neck ain’t that flexible, not really.

“First one.”

The blade came down again—this time, clean through the enemy’s cockpit.

Huh. So that’s seven down for the Armunale. When’d that even happen? Looks like I’m already locked in for the Twin-Headed Lion Medal.

Ah, but now I’ve gotta go through that stupid paperwork again… Wait—does this mean if I nail nine, I get the Three-Headed Lion? Feels kinda icky, that one.

“Damn you, Lao!”

“Don’t know if you’re a friend, a comrade, or something more—don’t care either way.”

I lift my left arm up, bracing it toward the enemy, then drop my hips low.

"Again with the charge? I’ve seen that trick once—won’t fall for it!"

"Can’t lose my cool now."

I activate the hidden weapon on my left arm as the charging machine bears down.

The tip of the Artifigoj opens, all the hatches springing free—but no sword blade bursts out.

Instead, concentrated magical liquid—Hyimagia Liquid—is pumped into the Artifigoj, and the physical calculation device—Senseboard—activates magic according to command.

Right after, a deep *thud*, like a whole battery of cannons firing at once, shakes the air. Black smoke erupts from the machine’s shoulder, and from the Artifigoj’s tip, the remaining four blades shoot out with sudden force.

"Wha—!?"

The enemy machine, drawing its blade to charge, was suddenly pierced through by four blades flying out of nowhere.

One of them passed right by the pilot’s seat. That kind of hit wouldn’t kill outright—but the pilot wouldn’t walk away clean, not by a long shot.

“Gh… what the—”

“Totarite Ipireration. Hidden weapon that fires all mounted arms at once.”

Full broadside—pure man’s dream. Real strength? That’s in letting loose without counting the ammo.

Told that to the maintenance crew, and they stared like I’d lost my mind. But I’ve got no regrets about fitting this system. None.

“Glory to the Empire!”

The enemy machine choked out those words, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

The surrounding mass-produced units seemed to lose all will to fight—two Armunale destroyed at once, it was too much.

Just standing there, surrounded, but not a single one’s trying to attack.

“Now then, just the leftovers left, I suppose.”

I don’t like cleaning up scraps, but… I’ll let them kick up a fuss till the very end. There’s a wounded Armunale—no, one with its hands gone—on the other side of that wall, and the commander of this squad, that’s all.

All my weapons empty, I grip the sword still stuck in the ground beneath me, and shift into cleanup mode.

Taking fire support from the base, I whittle down the oncoming swarm of mass-produced units, one by one.

At first I was counting the kills—then, somewhere along the way, I stopped. But I know for sure I’ve taken down at least twenty-five.

Thinking that, I see a massive black plume erupt from deep within the enemy line—Azura’s fighting hard.

“W-what’s—?!”

“Eld, sir?!”

I zoom the camera in at once, locking Eld’s machine into view. And then—my eyes blink. The sight before me makes me question my own vision.

“…You really took down both of them…”

There, at Eld’s feet, lies the Imperial Armunale, its cockpit pierced clean through by a blade. And just a little ways off, another machine—collapsing right before our eyes.

“Y-yeah! We did it!”

“Unbelievable. I mean… I just can’t even find words.”

“This is the strength of the First Division…”

“If the Guard Division sent every last one of them… we could end this war right here.”

Azura and Bonne just stare, dumbfounded. They’d watched Eld effortlessly take down two Armunales at once—like it was nothing. No words. No thought. Just awe.

As fellow Armunale pilots, there wasn’t even a flicker of jealousy. Just the quiet, crushing weight of a gap so wide it felt like another world.

“Three down, then.”

"Yeah, the enemy’s probably done fighting now. Should pull back soon."

The mass-produced units that had just watched Armunale get knocked down by Eld’s group stood frozen, their earlier aggression utterly gone—just hesitation, like they’d lost their nerve.

The relentless barrage from the base finally pushed even some of them to flee.

"This is where we push hard. Drive the enemy back in one go."

"Y-yes!"

Fuel was almost gone, but we can’t afford to stall here.

Bonne surged forward with her machine, Azura following a beat behind, launching their assault.

The mass-produced units offered feeble resistance, one after another shattered.

Yet Eld’s movements stood apart, as always.

Sword in his right hand, iron pillar in his left—two weapons, one magic—he cut down more than three at a time while Azura and Bonne barely finished one.

The enemy line shattered completely—mass-produced units scattering in panic, shot down one after another by magic carts bursting from the base, cannons blazing.

Twenty minutes after Eld destroyed his fourth Armunale and captured the enemy commander.