1

The next day. I was riding alone down the road toward Jakarta.

Three hours since we set out. Should be catching sight of Jakarta’s shadow soon.

We passed through a few villages on the way here—each one already under the grip of Abnomyle’s squad. Some had surrendered, but others? One village was wiped out completely, just… gone.

I’ve been clearing out every aberrant muse along the way, but there’s a fair chance a bunch of squads are prowling around inside Beta Block—way more than just the route I took.

Still feeling the bother of having to destroy all of it, I hurry toward Jakarta.

And there it was on the monitor—Jakarta’s city walls, and the Abnomyle forces surrounding them.

Found it. Still not letting anyone in, huh?

Jakarta was still holding the gate tight, black smoke rising from within.

Big guns on the outer wall kept spitting shells, keeping the Abnomyle forces at bay. The Armunale troops outside the gate fought hard, staying close to the wall’s edge.

“Break through and regroup—nah, we’ve got plenty of fuel. Let’s stir up some trouble first.”

We could regroup and plan, sure. But right now, they haven’t even noticed us yet. So why not hit ’em hard and break their front line?

“Then let’s go!”

Drawing my blade from the Artifigoj, I charged straight into the flank of the enemy rushing at Jakarta.

The sudden sight of me made one of them shout.

“Enemy attack! From the north!”

“What?!”

“Reinforcements?!”

“How many are they?!”

They all shouted at once, turning their heads toward me as the northern unit scrambled to face me.

But if I just stood here lazily turning my head like this—

*Boom!* One of the Sefia Generators, pierced through by Fire Lance, explodes.

"Too slow, huh?"

As if on cue, the enemy opens fire with all their cannons at once. But the range’s still too far—shots are wild, scattered.

I figure no bullet’s gonna hit me straight on, so I push harder.

In the meantime, Fire Lance rips through two more Sefia Generators, cracking the enemy wall surrounding Jakarta.

Alright, close enough now—can even hear my voice inside Jakarta.

"Fatal Kingdom, First Guard Armunale Battalion, Second Princess Guard Unit, Eld. Under the princess’s orders, I’m beginning extermination of the enemy Abnomyle unit currently attacking Jakarta!"

"First Battalion?!"

Why’s the Guard here at a place like this!?

Doesn’t matter! Take him down too!

Right! It’s just one machine!

Yeah, I’m just one machine. Just one, but—!

Don’t lump me in with you!

Slipping through the narrow gap in the formation, I slash sideways with my blade, shattering the decoy.

Thin armor’s a blessing—just a glancing swipe across the torso and it splits clean in half. With an Armunale, the armor’s too thick, stops the blade mid-strike. Then you’re stuck. Can’t follow through.

Stop it!

You—!

Too slow, too slow!

Firing a burst from the fire lance straight at the enemy who stepped out front, then slamming the artificious goj with the other.

Not gonna stop me this easily!

I’ll do it!

By the time I’d carved through to the very heart of the line, one of the Abnomyle fired a cannon straight at me—dead on course.

I dropped the machine low, then used the Artificious Goj to twist the trajectory.

“Huh. Guess there’s pilots out there who can actually hit something.”

“Right there!”

The Abnomyle that fired had already started moving the instant it fired—closing in fast, right in front of me.

Sprinting in, it lunged with the blade aimed straight at the cockpit.

I deflected the thrust with my own sword, then caught the enemy machine in the Artificious Goj and flung it backward like it was nothing.

“Damn it!”

“Hahaha! Not bad, not bad! Would’ve been a real fight if you weren’t just hollow!”

I threw my sword at the machine standing beside me, aiming for the one that had just fallen, and fired a fire lance straight at it.

The enemy machine couldn’t move at all—crushed by the fall—and the pilot’s cockpit was blown apart.

"Alright, back to the cleanup!"

I pulled my second sword from Artifigoj, and started cutting down the grounded machines one by one.

Right after Eld charged into the front line, the Jakarta command center went into a panic.

No surprise. Eld’s presence here meant the princess might be close.

Solomon, the Jakarta commander, frantically searched through the base for any pilots still able to move—anyone who could get in touch with Eld and confirm the princess’s location.

Seven Armunale units are currently locked in combat at Jakarta. Two of them took damage in earlier fights and are being repaired at top speed. I heard one’ll be ready to launch in just thirty minutes—so I asked my subordinate to relay a message to its pilot.

“He’s in the medical bay, getting treated,” the subordinate said. “Probably can’t fly.”

“What about the second pilot of the twenty-eighth unit?”

“Just a fresh recruit this year. No real combat experience with Armunale at all. Tough to say if he’s up to it.”

The file my subordinate handed over showed a photo of the new recruit—Batis.

“Hmph… no, maybe he’ll manage. The guard unit out front’s been wild-eyed and reckless, and they were rookies too, weren’t they?”

“Shouldn’t we be careful not to compare someone like that to a recruit who got picked for the guard?”

“First, we’ll send the request. Leave the rest to the rookie’s judgment. If he’s a fellow newbie, he’ll know the frontlines better than anyone.”

Solomon called for Batis without delay.

“Second-Eighty Armunale Team Deputy Leader Batis, reporting.”

“Good. Situation’s tight, so I’ll keep it brief.”

Solomon explained the current state—Eld was causing trouble up front—and that, if Lady Ines was nearby, safety had to be secured.

And that Batis was the only pilot available right now.

“To reach Captain Eld, we’d have to dive straight into that enemy machine. This’ll be a hard task for someone with no combat experience. So I’m not forcing it. Decide for yourself—take it or leave it.”

He expected his subordinates to refuse, of course.

Hundreds of enemy craft out there—twenty-eight squad leaders already wounded, lying in the dirt.

No one who’s seen that mess would turn down the chance, not if given a choice.

But Batis’s eyes were alight.

“I’m going! Please, let me go! Can’t let that idiot have all the fun!”

“Serious? You’re diving right into that?”

“You’ve seen the numbers from the outer wall, right?”

“Refusing won’t be a crime. Think it through!”

His subordinates all tried to talk him down, but the words just bounced off him.

After all, his classmate was out there—cutting loose in the middle of that chaos. Batis had just been watching from the top of the wall a moment ago.

Which was exactly why he couldn’t be stopped.

“Those clods? I could handle them myself. Can we launch right now?”

The repairs should be done in about twenty minutes. As soon as they’re finished, try contacting Captain Eld.

Understood. Co-pilot Batis, preparing.

Batis hurried out of the command room.

And the moment he hit the corridor, he broke into a full sprint toward the hangar where the aircraft was being repaired.

There, mechanics from the Twenty-Eighth Unit were working at full speed. One of them noticed Batis and tilted their head.

“Batis? You need something? Not the captain, surely?”

“No, I’m hurt bad, but I’m still breathing. The doctor said I’ll be back in the cockpit once I’m healed.”

“Good… then what’re you doing here? You were supposed to be helping with the cannon.”

“Yes, orders from Commander Solomon.”

Batis explained Commander Solomon’s orders to the crew.

The crew crowded around Batis, eyes wide.

“Seriously you’re going? Not messing around, right?”

“Yeah, straight-up. Finally, my moment’s here.”

“Seriously? You’re giving a job like this to a newbie?”

“Who else is there? Can’t help it, can I? Anyway, it’s an order from Commander Solomon—so follow the damn instructions! Switch my rig to physical simulation mode—senseboard, please—adjust the balance and settings. Once that’s done, we’re launching, so hurry up!”

“Ugh, fine! You all heard him! Got it? Then get back to work!”

‘Yes!’

With the lead mechanic’s shout, the crew scattered back to repairing the machine.

“Batis, don’t get too full of yourself.”

“Not getting full of myself. I’ll admit—I’m happy to be going on my first sortie. But that’s all.”

“Hope so. Even the captain’s gotten taken down by foes like that before. Let your guard down once, and you’re dead in a blink.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay by the captain’s side until repairs are done. Let me know when it’s finished.”

“Sure thing. Make sure you’re ready for it.”

A pat on the shoulder from the head mechanic, and Batis left the hangar. His next stop: the medical bay, where the captain was.

“Captain, you’re okay to be up now?”

The moment he stepped in, he saw Captain Wong sitting up on the bed.

His right arm was in a cast, a bandage wrapped around his head. A faint smear of dried blood ran from his forehead down to his cheek.

“Yeah, the body damage wasn’t bad. But a broken arm means I’m done fighting. What’s this about you calling me, Batis?”

“I’ve been called to sortie.”

…Right. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, like I’m in any shape to talk. But watch yourself. The enemy’s fragile enough, sure. But one cannon blast’ll wreck a machine clean through. Three at once? Dodging’s next to impossible. Deal with it before they shoot.

Understood. I’ll watch myself.

After that, Batis was given every bit of practical advice he could think of—how to move your eyes on the battlefield, how to keep your gear in working order, how to handle yourself in a fight—straight from Captain Wong’s mouth, all of it stuff you can only learn by doing.

Then, after a while, the head mechanic showed up in the sick bay.

“Batis, your machine’s all fixed.”

“Got it. Well then, Captain, I’m off.”

“Yeah. Go show ‘em what you’re made of.”

“Just a messenger, though.”

Batis left the sick bay with the head mechanic, hurrying back to the hangar.

I climbed into the machine and gripped the control lever.

Even though I’d only touched Armunale once before—when I’d set up my own profile as a proper crew member—the moment my fingers closed around the lever, the old muscle memory came flooding back, like it had been stamped into me at the academy.

I gave the lever and pedals a gentle test, checking the feel. Slightly heavier than usual. Then I remembered—part of the cockpit had been destroyed.

The captain had been hurt when a cannon blast hit the right side of the machine, the shockwave cracking the cockpit interior and striking his right arm.

That’s why the seat had been replaced with a new one.

“Should be fine. My reflexes are back. And I haven’t forgotten how to fly.”

“Batis, are you ready?!”

“Affirmative! Starting the generator!”

Answered the voice from outside, and powered up the machine.

The vibration thrumming through me—my heart starts hammering.

To calm myself, Batis grips his chest tight.

"Racing fast. But that’s good. Speed up, but stay cool. Quiet, but burning."

"Go on Batis’s cue."

"Got it. Second Division Armunale Unit Deputy Commander Batis, moving out!"

Pressed the pedal, and the machine rolled forward.

Out of the hangar, straight toward the main gate. Outside, it was already a battlefield—the roar of cannons never stopped, never let up.

Batis called out to the soldier guarding the gate, asking him to open it.

The soldier, already warned by command, began the opening procedure right away.

In the meantime, Batis drew his sword from his waist and braced it with both hands. He stood ready, magic primed and waiting.

The gate creaked open slowly. Through the widening gap, the outside world came into view.

Then—boom. A gush of flame shot through the crack.

The outer wall’s cannon had destroyed the enemy unit that was trying to latch on.

Batis pressed the pedal, still engulfed in flame.

He launched the machine through the gap, and in one breath, destroyed the two remaining units that had closed in.

“Can do.”

The solid, certain feel of the enemy units breaking beneath him gave Batis full confidence.

“New model!?”

“Now’s not the time for chatter!”

“Just follow the drill.”

“Yeah, I know that!”

The pilot of the Abnomule began shouting, launching attacks at the newly appeared Armunale.

Batis snapped his fingers, and the wide wind cutter flashed out—cleaving clean through the approaching machine’s legs in one swift motion.

Wide-range attack, yes—but weak in power. Useless against Armunale, but perfect for the Abnomule. Enough force to shatter joints, that was all we needed.

I gave a quick thanks to Laiter, who’d just registered the spell into the physical calculator—senses board, whatever—before the machine began collapsing. Didn’t even glance back. Just pushed straight through enemy lines toward Eld.

It wasn’t until I’d broken through the front lines and been carving through chaos for a while that I noticed the shift.

“Front’s noisy. Pushing hard, are they?”

Some machine’s charging straight from the gate toward us. Feels like it’s trying to link up with me, somehow.

Then again, might’ve come with orders from the base.

Guess we’ll regroup, then. Good not having to go back inside.

Switching gears from aimless chaos to meeting up, I start moving toward the noisy enemy spot.

And there it is.

The machine—surrounded by Abnomyle, still cutting through them one after another with magic and swordplay.

That movement… I know it.

—Then it halts, just for a second. Like it noticed me.

“Finally caught up, huh?”

That voice. Haven’t heard it in a while… but still familiar as ever.

“Batis, is it you?”

“Yeah. Heard Eld was causing trouble. Solomon’s orders—‘Is the princess okay?’ sent me to check.”

“Ah. That’s what it was.”

Batis paused for a heartbeat, then snapped into motion—flinging spells to shatter enemy coordination, picking off isolated units one by one.

Meanwhile, I was just swinging my Artifigouj, knocking everything within reach into the dirt.

Guess I’d been going too wild—fewer enemy units dared come at me. Still, more seemed to be focusing on Batis’s machine than mine. Doesn’t matter, though. I’m slicing through them fine. Whatever.

“The princess has already pulled back with her guard from another block. Should be down in the town behind Jakarta by now.”

“Is that so? Then no problem. I’ll head back to relay that.”

“Wait a sec.”

We’ve come this far, and I’m just getting started. Why not have a little more fun? What do you say, Batis?

“What’s up?”

I’m going in behind these clowns and knocking their heads off. Fifty of them, Batis—yeah, you could probably take down a hundred if you had to. So I’ll leave the rest to you.

What are you even saying!? Seriously, what are you saying!? Even if the skill’s there, we don’t have enough fuel!

Fine then. Fifty’ll do. I’ll take out one on the way.

I didn’t wait for Batis’s reply—just flipped around and charged back toward the rear line.

I hear Batis panicking behind me, but this is my moment. I’m not letting it slip.

The enemy’s caught off guard by my sudden assault, tries to block my path—but that won’t stop me.

I slam the Artifigouge into the enemy, then drive it straight into the ground.

I shift my weight forward, matching the lift of the machine, and kick out with a flying knee at the one behind the enemy unit.

A crunch—metal and chest armor collapsing—then a scream from the pilot.

“Back off. Maybe you’ll live if you do.”

The enemy machines freeze. Yeah, hearing a comrade scream hits harder than any blade.

In that pause, I rocket backward—no hesitation.

There it is.

A machine painted solid black, red lines cutting through it—classic Du Librep style.

No way. The mercenary’s the commander? Empire really running out of decent folk, huh?

I’m still thinking it over when I bring my sword down, calm and deliberate, at the machine before me.

The enemy catches the blow—firm, solid, no give.

And then I hear a voice.

“Seems you’ve put up quite a fight! This’ll be a proper match, you and me!”

“You’re the commander here, then?”

“That’s right. Took me over three years to get here. But well worth it, don’t you think?”

“If your wish has come true, then just get on with it—die already!”

“What’re you talking about? Now’s when it gets fun! Hey, one-armed one!”

“Finish it quick. Don’t drag me into the same pit as that last wounded fool! You’re a real bloodthirsty one, aren’t you?”

The one standing before me—was the very first enemy I’d fought in Armunale.

The battle-hungry Forze.