2

The ice lance hovered above the Forzeh's head—already, I triggered the fire lance, canceling it out midair.

"Figured out how to use magic, huh!"

That’s not me from back then, you know!

I grit my teeth and shove the lever back, putting all my strength into forcing the Forze machine to retreat. With full manual control, my machine has the edge in instant power.

As soon as the Forze unit decided it was outmatched, it shifted its blade to deflect my機体—

But I’m not that easily caught. Stepping forward a full pace to keep my balance, I avoid the machine’s collapse.

At the same time, I swung Artifigoj toward Forcze.

Oops, that was close.

Folze easily dodged it, stepped back, and readied his sword again.

"That's the famed Full Manual Control, huh? No wonder it's powerful. I can see why sacrificing the left arm makes sense."

"Che. You knew about it, huh?"

"Mercs live and die by information. That’s how we get good at stuff like this!"

The Forcze unit moves. With a kick that splits the ground, it surges straight toward me in an instant.

I swing my sword instantly, blocking the Forcze unit.

"Gh— power’s up. No… wait. This is!?"

"Full Manual Control. Once you get the hang of it, there’s nothing you can’t do!"

"So what?!"

Just because the power’s balanced doesn’t mean your machine was built to handle this kind of control!

And I know better than anyone—what that control method’s weak points are!

Keeping the right arm’s output fixed, I shift the connection over to the left arm using the lever’s button.

If Forze is using full manual control, then his left arm shouldn’t be moving at all, right?

But my machine’s different.

Lifting Artifogio, I swing it down toward Forze’s mech.

Forze pulls back his right leg, tilting the machine sideways—just barely dodges Artifogio. But now, right in front of me, is the unmoving left side of his mech.

I snap the connection back to my right arm instantly, and drive in with a counterattack.

But my blade barely deflects off Forze’s sword.

“Close one. Nearly got me there. Guess your piloting’s still better than mine, huh.”

“Who’s the one changing controls on the fly?”

Forze had switched from full manual to half manual on the fly—so my left arm, which shouldn’t have moved at all, blocked the strike.

“I’m not the same as back then. I got hurt, you know. Still, they called me a genius and made me a pilot, so don’t act like I’m not good.”

“Then you should’ve been dropped.”

“Said that? I killed ‘em all!”

Real scary guy. No joke.

Forze lunged at me, swords in both hands. Guess he’d given up full manual. But he’s still using half manual—speed-wise, at least.

So I should treat him like a commander-level opponent.

I deflected the first downward slash with Artifigoj, stepped back to dodge the second upward swing.

The Forze machine spun its frame and launched its third strike. I dropped low, matching the spin, and kicked out to sweep its legs from under it.

As it fell, I brought my blade down—but the machine rolled aside, dodging the slash. Then it flung its left-hand sword high into the air.

My eyes flicked toward it for just a heartbeat. By the time I realized it was a feint, my own machine was already kicked off balance and tumbling.

In that instant, Forze rose, caught the descending sword midair, and charged in. I stopped his first step by hurling my sword at his frame, then pulled the harmonica pistol from Artifigoj and fired it straight at the enemy machine’s joint.

Forze planted his ice lance across his front like a shield, blocking the shot.

I’d emptied the last of the bullets, tossed aside the harmonica pistol, and grabbed my sword again.

“Huh. So that thing’s a weapon stash too. Guess I can’t help but be jealous of someone with their own personal gear.”

“Be a mercenary, you can mess with it however you like.”

“Exactly because you’re a mercenary. Custom gear costs a fortune. Orders like that? The worst kind of thing a mercenary hates. Besides, I can manage just fine with these two blades.”

Seems like mercenaries who wield rare, specialized weapons—like that old Bodwan squad leader used to—aren’t exactly common. Which might explain why he ended up in a military unit back then.

“Then it’s never been a problem for me—until today!”

I fired my fire lance, and Forze countered with another ice lance, the two canceling each other midair. In that moment, we closed the gap, swords clashing hard.

“What’re you even saying?! My first time was already stolen the very moment I met you!”

Folzé lets loose another flurry of attacks. I parry, dodge, catch a blow now and then—watching for an opening.

The real difference between my machine and Folzé’s is speed.

Mine’s built to crush—backed by heavy iron poles, packed with weapons and fuel, meant to overwhelm.

Folzé’s machine? Slimmed down to the bone, built for high-speed, high-maneuver combat—shatter the enemy before they can even react.

It’s a style that demands real skill from the pilot. And Folzé’s got it—plenty.

But as we fight… I can still feel it. The edge is still soft.

Probably just lack of combat experience. Those relentless strikes from a veteran pilot like the Grand Commander—just barely keeping up was all I could do. No room to think about counterattacks.

But Folzé’s still got gaps in his offense. Places that could open up.

If I can pry them open… I’ll be able to strike back.

But I can’t wait too long. I can feel it as we fight. Folzé’s growing, bit by bit.

The angle of his slashes. How he spots an opening. Even his whole way of fighting’s shifting, just a little.

So I’ve got to push it—push it now, even if it’s reckless!

“Still holding out, huh?”

“Not gonna break me with this!”

“Then how about this?”

Folzé’s fighting style changes again. He’s starting to use magic now.

But right after the shift—still getting used to it. Too many openings. That’s why I’ve got to strike now!

I don’t dodge the magic I’ve unleashed—just step forward into it.

Ice lance nicks the side of the frame, but that’s fine.

My sword pierces the left shoulder of the Forze unit.

“Guh… you got me good!”

Forze swings down hard, aiming to chop my arm off. I let go of the blade at once, pull back, and swing the Artifigouge.

Clang—solid hit. Then comes the skid of metal on dirt.

I confirm the Forze unit’s fallen, then fire the Fire Lance—maximum burst, back-to-back, straight at the downed machine.

Massive explosion. Dust clouds the monitor.

I back away, eyes sharp, and slip clear of the dust cloud.

Can’t see the Forze unit at all. Should’ve been wrecked after all that magic, I’d think…

“—!?!”

A whirl of dust—then out bursts a Forze unit, missing one arm.

The Forze’s blade shoots straight for the cockpit.

I raise the Artifigojue instinctively, blocking the strike.

“Haaahhhaa!”

A jolt rams into my machine from behind, as the Forze screams.

It dodged my block, twisted mid-air, and sliced my back with just the motion of its remaining arm.

I snap around—there it is, already right in front of me.

“Fast!?!”

Impossible speed. Even with full manual control, I couldn’t move this fast.

So it dodged that Fire Lance just like that!?

"Haha! With just a sword and one arm, I can still fight!"

I barely parry each slashing blow as they come, one after another.

But one of them pierces through the sole of the machine’s foot.

"Kk…"

"Look!"

Folzé keeps the sword plunged into the foot and twists it upward in a single motion.

Too late to dodge—my body's still reeling from the previous thrust.

I twist the machine to its absolute limit, barely pulling back from the blade’s reach—but Folzé’s edge still scores deep into the front armor.

The cockpit screen cracks, splitting into two jagged pieces, with more fractures spreading across its surface.

Shattered glass grazes my cheek, blood dripping down.

"Close! Just a hair away! Next time, I won’t miss!"

"Like hell you will!"

Folzé’s machine is right in front of me. I instinctively lunge forward, ramming the machine into a full-body tackle.

"Whoa—"

Even though it’s the same Armunale, the mass difference between my machine and Folzé’s is pretty big.

Folzé’s machine gets knocked back hard, flying backward from the impact.

I take advantage of the space opening up—pull the harmonica pistol from Artifigoj, aim it at my right arm, and fire.

Two bullets are blocked by armor. One blows off the shoulder plate.

But the rest miss—no decisive hit. I figure it’s time to throw the harmonica pistol at Folzé’s machine and blow it up with Fire Lance. I raise my hand to cast—just as the harmonica pistol gets deflected by the sword Folzé flung at it.

I aim the Fire Lance at Folzé’s machine—of course, the magic shield absorbs most of the force, barely leaving a scratch.

But stepping back, I finally noticed the changes in Folzé’s machine. Sparks flying from every joint—jerking spasmodically, twitching like a dying thing.

That’s the sign when joints go bad. Can’t properly process the signals from the physics engine—senses board’s all scrambled, parts misfiring.

So Folzé was pushing the machine past its limits, huh? That’s why it was faster than mine, why it had more power. The price? This damage, showing through.

Instead of the sword he’d thrown, Folzé grabs a nearby Abnomyle blade.

“Phew… time’s about up, I think.”

“What?”

“Sorry, but I’ve got my own orders from the Empire. Can’t just let you run wild. So I’m calling it here—time to go home.”

You think I’ll let you?

This is the moment to strike. Retreat? Not a chance.

“Sure, I could stop you… but are you really certain it’s me who should do it?”

“What do you mean?”

You know your own machine’s condition. So why this calm? There’s something going on.

“Then look above—toward the Empire’s direction.”

I keep the Foltz unit at the edge of my vision, scanning the sky over the Empire with the camera.

There—countless glittering things.

“What… what’s that…?”

“The techs call them Avila Bombs. Revolutionary weapons that can hit any spot from within Empire territory. Military brass said they were useless if you couldn’t seize the target afterward—but right now? They’re perfect.”

“Attacking across the border!? Wait, that’s—”

It’s a damn missile! When the hell did they build something like that!?

No way—could the Sefia Generator actually fling a steel pillar like that? But in a world where targeting systems haven’t even gotten past the basics, how the hell could they pull off an attack across the border like that!?

I scramble to zoom in on the camera, checking the incoming weapon.

It’s a straight-up missile. A cylinder with four fins attached. And the closer I look, the more it seems like those fins are twitching—tiny, rapid movements.

“Wait… are they actually steering that thing too!?”

“Yeah, they bail out just before impact. Well, I’m heading back now.”

Folzé starts retreating—but I don’t have time to stop him.

That missile coming at us? It’s being piloted by hand. Which means—without a doubt—it’s aimed straight at Jakarta Base.

If I don’t shoot every single one down, we’re in real trouble.

I’m heading back to Jakarta, cutting through to meet up with Batis along the way.

Batis looks confused—his troops, the Abnomyle, just started pulling back all at once. He asks me if we’re going to chase them down.

I wave it off. “Look up at the sky,” I say. “At the Empire.”

“Wha—what’s that?”

“Everything’s bombs. If we don’t shoot them all down, the base’s toast.”

“Wait, wait, wait—no way that’s cool, right!?”

“Cool? Not a chance. We’re going to knock every last one out with magic—everything we’ve got, down to the last spark.”

“O-oh, right!”

We retreat to the outer wall together, and I explain the missiles to the soldiers.

“Line up any working Armunale along the wall! Use every bit of magic you’ve got—knock them down before they reach the base. If even one gets through, we’re all dead.”

The command sends a sharp gulp echoing from the five Armunale.

They’re really on edge.

Still a ways off, the missiles. Given our range, maybe five minutes left—still, better than nothing, at least we’ve got time to get ready.

The technicians step out to the wall, refilling the Armunale with concentrated mana fluid—Hyimagia Liquid.

In that time, I check on the enemy unit that pulled back.

If they’re planning to retake this after firing, they wouldn’t have gone far.

Scanning the horizon through the camera, I spot a tiny silhouette. Zoom in—there’s the Abnomüle unit, waiting.

And on a slight rise, flanked by a Forze unit, two Armunale stand side by side. Those must be the key to their force.

“Someone, tell Lieutenant Arnold to get ready.”

“What’s up?”

"Tell them I need my gear brought over. And have the fuel pre-loaded—should make things clearer."

"Got it."

I pass on the message, then look up again.

There, growing larger by the second, was the shadow of a missile—plain to see with the naked eye.

"Everyone, ready! Pour every ounce of magic we’ve got into it—maximum output!"

"Got it!"

Following my command, every unit lined up their aim at the incoming missiles above.

Then—the missiles wobbled slightly. Looks like the pilots are bailing out.

Behind the missile trails, I can see the parachutes opening.

The base fell utterly silent. Soldiers stood frozen, eyes raised to the sky like they were praying.

And then—straight into range.

"Three… two… one… fire!!"

At the signal, magic erupted from every unit at once.

It struck straight into the incoming missile, detonating midair.

The sky filled with suns—too many to count—rising, then vanishing. Thunder cracked, the air shuddering.

We kept dropping missile after missile, one after another.

But even with me, just six Armunale units couldn’t keep up.

The explosions crept closer to the base, and then—just one missile slipped through.

An explosion inside the base. Buildings collapsed.

The tremor must’ve thrown off the others—magic wavered, straying from the missiles, and every time, another blast tore through the compound.

“Damn it!”

I screamed over the din, voice lost in the screams, still hurling magic without pause.

The bombardment felt like it lasted hours—then, finally, it stopped.

In the end, five Avilabombs had made it through.

One hit landed harmlessly in a corner of the base no one cared about. The other two tore through Armunale’s storage hangar, one leveled the training field, and another tore into the soldiers’ barracks.

Five hundred and twenty-six lives were lost—everyone in the hangar, all the maintenance crew. The one Armunale under repair was utterly destroyed. Given how many missiles they faced, the damage was surprisingly low. Still, something inside me won’t settle.

“Those bastards… I’ll never forgive them.”

I glare at the Imperial forces, already moving in again after the bombardment ended.

But Armunale’s already done for. We pushed the physical processor—sensboard—past its limits, kept firing magic until it melted down completely.

My frame alone held out—thanks to the twin physical processors, the sensboards—but even now, it’s pushing hard to cool down.

Can’t handle another fight like that one.

“Eld… what now… we’re done like this…”

Batis bursts out of the cockpit, drenched in sweat, asking me.

I know. If we keep going like this, the base’ll be crushed. But that’s why I asked Lieutenant Armunale to deliver a message.

“Now it’s my turn.”

“But your frame—”

“I’m fine.”

“Captain Eld! Package delivered!”

Arnul, the second princess, arrives in a magi-truck.

“Been waiting. How’s it look?”

“Ninety-seven percent. Just need to fine-tune the aim.”

“That’s enough.”

Arnul, the second princess, steps down from the magi-truck. She and the soldiers work together to pull off the cloth covering the cargo bed.

There, a rifle lies.

Not a pistol like a harmonica pistol. The magazine is harmonica-style, but the weapon is undeniably a rifle.

This is the new weapon I asked for.

I lift the rifle from the cargo bed and bring it up to my shoulder.

“Hey, at this distance—”

Batis calls out, watching me as if I’m about to pull the trigger. True, the enemy unit’s still far off. Magic wouldn’t reach them, not even close.

But this weapon was made to make that distance meaningless.

“Batis, you’re the one, right? No need to worry. This rifle’s range outpaces magic by miles. And it packs a punch.”

“Such a weapon… really existed?”

Didn’t exist. So I made it. Fused magic with real bullets, see? Now then, Captain Eld, show the imperial lot what you’ve got. Let ‘em see the true power of the Ibrīt Army’s multi-stage super-velocity heavy sniper rifle, Perfiliizī!

Arnold, usually so calm, shouts it out, breathless with excitement.

Means he’s got real faith in this weapon. Then I’ll see it in action, won’t I?

“Cylinder pressure normal. Hatch open-close function normal. No issues with concentrated mana fluid—Hyimagia Liquid supply. Physical calculator—Sensboard—working fine on its own. Five rounds. One’s a test shot. Adjust for error—three shots to finish it.”

This gear’s meant to be linked to a frame like the Artificogius, but we don’t have time for that now.

So I can’t line up the sights with Perfilizzi, not really—so I just stretch the unit’s arm straight out and set the aim right at the tip. Should keep the deviation small.

Fuel’s already loaded, so all I gotta do is pull the trigger. The physics engine—sensboard—built into Perfilizzi’ll do the rest, just like it’s supposed to.

Lock on the Armunale at the back of the enemy force, through the live feed.

“Die.”

I focus every nerve, pull the trigger.

Dadadadada—like a string of tiny explosions. Flames spurt from the exhaust fans on either side of Perfilizzi’s barrel. And with that, the round’s shot out, rippling shockwaves through the air.

Right after, dirt explodes beneath the Armunale I was aiming at.

The enemy machine stumbles back a few steps, confused—doesn’t know what just happened. I correct the aim on the fly, fire the second round. It punches straight through the Armunale’s cockpit, clean through.

I swing my arm, line up the next one. Fire the third shot.

Same as before—punches straight through the second machine’s cockpit.

“Last one, Forcze.”

Forcze’s machine stays frozen in place, right in the center.

I lock the sight onto Forcze’s cockpit, press the switch.

Perfect aim. But the bullet only blows off the right arm.

Dodged. They read where I was aiming, measured the delay from the first three shots.

But I’ve got one more.

“Next one won’t miss.”

I reacquired the aim, shifted the timing just a hair, and squeezed the trigger.

The Forzeh machine twitched once—exactly on the delay lag—then dropped, just as the shot missed its mark.

The bullet I’d fired took only the head clean off.

Perfilyzii finished her barrage, flaring open all her fans to vent heat. The steam rising around her raised the air temperature by a good two degrees.

“Tch.”

I spat and lowered the rifle.

The Abnomyle unit that had been pressing forward was already pulling back.

Looks like they gave up on the assault once Armunale took two hits and the last one became unable to fight.

“Enemy forces are retreating. Now’s the time to assess damage and secure whatever forces we can.”

"Yeah. The remaining technicians’ll bring in the Armunale and get it fixed! Soldiers, back to guard duty! The enemy hasn’t fully left yet! Don’t let your guard down!"

『Hah!』

"Also, Deputy Commander—"

"What’s up?"

"My unit should be holding position near the nearby village. Send someone to pick them up while we can."

"Got it. Eld Captain, rest for now. I’ll have a room prepared."

"Thank you."

I guide the machine back into the base.

The first defense at Jakarta had held—barely, despite heavy losses.

While thinking about Artificogus, the Ivriit Army, the Perfilizzi, the Avila Bombs… honestly, my brain was just spilling out.

Probably gonna regret this in a few years…