2

“What the hell happened!?”

Prince Darius shouted as the sudden tremor shook his office.

Chunks of shattered stone rained from the ceiling. The windows were cracked from the impact.

The attendants who’d fallen on their backs scrambled up, forming a protective ring around the prince. He strained to look past the window, trying to assess the situation. And then—no words came.

Outside the window: a massive, black-arm, gleaming like obsidian.

The arm lowered, retreating from the castle, then surged forward again, plunging into the stone with terrifying speed. A second tremor slammed into them.

“Are we under attack…?!”

“Your Highness, this place is unsafe. We must evacuate.”

“Y-yeah… I know…”

Moving quickly through the room, following the side guides, stepping out while surrounded. Shocks kept rattling through, stones chipping off the ceiling above.

Even if one side wall crumbles, this castle’s built to last. Still, that flicker of fear? Natural enough.

But Darius clenched it down hard. Gave orders to his men, duty calling.

“Edgar—go fetch the machine. My guard’s foot soldiers, that’ll do. Other knights are moving too—best to clear this mess fast.”

“Understood.”

“Infantry and side guards stay with me. Where’s the safe spot?”

“If it’s an attack on the palace, we’re moving to a hideout in the lower town—same risk of collapse. Use the path from the garden. Head toward the back courtyard.”

Got it. The royal guards’ priority is checking on Father and the brothers’ safety.

Understood.

Darius gave quick orders, and everyone around him moved without delay.

Edgar leapt from the castle window, magic carrying him straight down to the storage bay. The guards dashed through the swaying castle. No time to watch them go—Darius was already striding fast toward the back courtyard.

Meanwhile, Second Prince Yugo was in real trouble.

He’d been right beneath where the Armunale had struck.

Walls and ceiling were collapsing, smoke curling thick in the air. Lucky the flames hadn’t caught yet, but the screams of maids and soldiers echoing from nearby—those were enough to tell you this place was a mess.

And he himself was caught up in the collapse—just like everyone else. He’d survived only because a nearby retainer had thrown himself in front, shielding him from the falling ceiling. But his leg was crushed under rubble, pinned tight, and he couldn’t move a muscle.

The attendants and guards were already frantically clearing debris, but right beside him, Armunale slammed her second fist into the castle walls.

“Damn it—some idiot’s done this. Who the hell even—”

“Identified by design: Imperial mercenary.”

“Third wave incoming! Brace yourselves!”

The castle shuddered violently, the third tremor shaking the already weakened walls and ceiling to pieces.

Each quake brought new screams from the trapped, each one the last gasp of a soldier crushed beneath the rubble.

“Jean! Can you move?!”

“I’m fine,”

“Then get the unit. Drag out the pilot. I’ll make sure he suffers.”

“Understood. The guard squad prioritizes the prince’s safety.”

“Got it!”

Jean leapt from the collapsed wall into the open, hurling magic at the black machine mid-fall.

Even if it didn’t do much, maybe it’d catch their attention—yet the black machine showed no reaction, raising its fist again.

That’s when panic set in—had to pull it free before it was too late.

“Please, Your Highness… stay safe.”

Jean steadied himself mid-air, landed smoothly with magic, and sprinted full-tilt toward the hangar.

Prince Folde had watched the whole thing from outside the castle walls.

He’d come down to the town occasionally, for meetings with merchants—part of his training as a civil servant. Today just happened to be one of those days.

Through the merchant’s window, all you could see was the crumbling wall of the castle, smoke rising into the sky—and the black machine clinging to the fortress, swinging down its massive arm like a hammer.

Folde just stood there, dazed, staring out the glass, mouth open.

Then a sharp shake to his shoulder, and suddenly he snapped back to himself.

“Your Highness—this ain’t good, is it?”

“W-what should we do? Send the troops—no, that’s the military brother’s job, but that area was near his office, wasn’t it?”

“Your Highness, I’m going after that machine. I’ll try to pull it off. You get out—get to the emergency shelter, right? You know where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then just follow the others’ orders. I’ll handle that thing.”

“Leave it to you.”

Guard Knight Remy gave quick instructions to the flustered prince, pointed out the moves to those around him, then dashed out of the trading post.

He wasn’t heading for the castle’s storage vault—no, he was going straight for the base’s research lab. That’s where his machine was.

His machine had special equipment installed, developed jointly with the lab. Maintenance and settings? You couldn’t do without the lab’s know-how.

That’s why he got there first.

“Alright, let’s go—watch your backs!”

Arriving at the lab, Remy leapt straight onto his machine and fired it up.

No waiting for the warehouse hatch to open—pried it open with his boot and launched straight out. Cut straight across, zeroing in on the castle. The moment he entered Grondia Army’s range, he opened fire.

“Cut it out, already!”

“Oops—close one, close one.”

Just as my arm reached out to grab the enemy machine, the black one broke away from the castle and landed on the ground. A thick, sticky red liquid clung to its fist, still dripping.

“You think you can get away with this, huh?”

“Aha! You’re the one who’s not getting away, don’t you think? Oh well. Wanna fight? We’ve got time—plenty of it. So go ahead.”

The black machine, Forze, drew its sword and lunged at Remi’s machine.

Remi instantly twisted his arm, activating magic to slice through the space between the two.

A flicker of surprise crossed Forze’s face as the Craylance erupted in front and behind his machine—then he leapt sideways, dodging the spear.

And then, two arms came at him.

“Interesting weapon… Does the kingdom have a thing for arm modifications or something?”

Folzé swept the oncoming arms aside with both swords, kicked off the castle wall, spun the machine once to steady himself, and landed. That move—Remy realized—the enemy pilot had skill beyond the ordinary.

The wall was solid, sure enough. But it was just stone stacked up. If Armunale kicked it, it should’ve crumbled easily.

Yet Folzé had adjusted the force of the kick—channeling it only into the machine. Only a handful of pilots in the kingdom could manage that.

“Don’t you go easy on me.”

“You too—try not to die by accident, huh?”

With a pull back, he repositioned his hand around the sword.

I blocked Folz's descending strike and tried to cast a spell—but it fizzled out, swallowed whole by Folz’s magic piercing the very spot where I’d begun.

“Fightin’ like you’ve done it before.”

“Just a mercenary, that’s all!”

Then, suddenly, Folz kicked back and leapt backward with a burst of flame.

Right after, one Armunale came down hard on the very spot where Folz had stood—sword swinging like a hammer.

It was a unit with a sword mounted on its right arm, a shield and a sword in its left.

The First Guard Armunale Division Commander, Dennis Editt.

“Hah—another one?!”

Folz laughed, but Dennis didn’t answer.

Slowly, he rose, blade raised, aimed straight at the Folz unit.

“Not you… I won’t forgive you…”

And as Dennis screamed it, the machine moved.

Yet for all that fury in his roar, the blade was sharper than anything Remi had ever seen—clearly meant not for show, but for cutting through flesh with cold precision. One strike after another, flawless, merciless.

Still, Folz barely dodged—just barely.

“Kuk… strong! Really good! So you’ve got a pilot like this too? Why haven’t you shown up on the battlefield before?”

“I’ll kill you—no mistakes. You’re the one who killed the King!”

Remi froze at Dennis’s words. They felt like—

“H-hey! Commander, what do you mean, ‘King’s killer’? You don’t mean…!”

“The King’s dead. By this one.”

“…That can’t be. The King…?”

The news hit him like a stone dropped into still water—no, worse. The King, the one who’d pulled him up from the ranks, the one who’d believed in him… gone. Remi felt something hollow open inside his chest.

And in that gap, he feels anger bubbling up—hot, sharp, relentless.

"Your Majesty? Oh, that fancy-dressed old geezer? Yeah, I smashed him. Right here—this fist of mine."

Folzé unleashes magic at his feet, detonating it to create space, then pulls back from the Dennis machine. He thrusts his fist forward, still smeared with blood—already dried, darkened, blending in with the machine's color like rust.

"Anyway, my job was to assault the capital and kill the royal family. So, killing the king? Not bad. But... there are still others, right? Then I’ll just have to take care of them too!"

"You—!"

"I’ll kill you!"

Two Armunale machines charge forward, fury erupting in their every movement, slamming into Folzé’s machine.

They were both strong enough to be chosen as Guard Knights of the kingdom, even if their fury made them reckless. Still, their teamwork—improvised though it was—was something to marvel at.

Remy drove the Grondia Army forward, pushing Folzé back. Dennis waited in ambush, slashing with a speed that should’ve been impossible to dodge.

Yet Folzé sidestepped it—just like that.

“Aha, so you still don’t want to wreck the castle, huh?”

Folzé used the castle walls as shields, leapt off its spires, flipping through the air with acrobatic grace, dodging both machines with ease.

“Tch. Cheating, huh?”

“Hey, I’m a mercenary! Cheating’s allowed!”

“Then let me return the favor.”

“Won’t take long.”

The voice came from the wall atop Folzé’s machine. There, two new Armunale units stood ready.

Edgar and Jean’s machines.

“Four against one. This might actually be a problem.”

“Would be nice if ‘problem’ was all it was.”

“Chatter time’s over. Time to finish this.”

“Now that’s a real bummer!”

Folzé launches magic at the two units above.

They deflect it with their magic shields, leap from the wall, and rush Folzé.

Folzé’s machine rolls away, then fires off another spell—then another. But the magic whips past the two machines.

“Rushing, are we?”

“Too bad. I’ve nearly forgotten what my job even is.”

“What? Wait—!”

A beat too late, Jean realizes what it means.

The magic that missed. It shot straight for the castle—right into the part Folzé had smashed open earlier.

The weakened section collapses all at once, swallowed by a massive explosion.

“Prince Yugo!”

“Aha! Of course there’d be royalty there! Saw a knight-like figure dodging the spell earlier—figured someone important had to be hiding in there!”

“Kill him! Don’t let him run free any longer!”

“Got it.”

“You won’t get away with this!”

“Confirmed.”

Four Armunale units close in on Folzé’s machine at once.

Folzé sees them coming, reaches for a single button mounted in the cockpit.

“Then it’s hide-and-seek from here on out! Limitia Perfesii activated!”

White smoke swallows Folzé’s machine as the four slashes close in.

I follow the parachute—already inside the base before the others.

The person in the parachute seems to have landed outside the base. Probably decided it was too risky to dive straight in.

Then, I’ll grab the machine before they even get inside.

I dash through the base, leaping into the eighth hangar. There it stood—my machine, perfectly prepped and waiting, all pride and polish.

“Long time no see! My machine!”

“Eld Captain, I’m ready anytime!”

“Get clear. I’m moving now!”

“Understood! Everyone, full speed retreat!”

With Orell and Pamela’s orders, the mechanics inside the hangar scatter all at once.

I kick up with the aeroslaster, vault straight to the shoulder, and slide right into the cockpit.

It’s been a while since I sat here—but the feel of it, the old familiar grip, hasn’t faded one bit.

My hand fits to the control stick like it’s stuck there. The pedals are in perfect position too.

I buckle myself in, then fire up the machine.

“This bass! Come on—time for some real action after all this time. Full throttle!”

Press the pedals, ramp up the output— the machine rumbles to life. The eyes glow, the generator roars awake with a shout that shakes the air.

“Breaking the Queen’s orders, but—emergency, right? No choice! Eld’s unit is deploying!”

I glide forward, clear the hangar, and the sunlight hits me—my machine sparkles like it’s been reborn. Not a scratch on it. Look at this beauty. I love the battered ones too, but this clean, polished one? Just as lovely!

“Everyone, head to the Princess. I’ll catch the one who parachuted in.”

Where the hell do you think he’s hiding!?

There’s only one spot he’d aim for, now isn’t there?

I steer the craft forward, heading straight for the target.

The enemy who jumped in with a parachute—he went for the base. So he must be after something inside it.

In all this chaos, he could’ve hidden anywhere in town. He didn’t need to risk it. So what’s worth risking everything for? Only one thing.

The Armunale hangar. Specifically, the section where the fully maintained, battle-ready machines are lined up.

He’s gotta come for either the first or second hangar. Lucky for us, both are close by and within camera range. If anyone looks even a little off, we can move fast.

So… which one’ll he pick?

Hiding the machine in the building’s shadow, I keep watch on the warehouse. Even as I do, a fierce explosion ripples through the castle—Armunale versus Armunale, it seems.

Don’t know if he’s coming to help that thing or just fleeing—either way, he’s a key witness. Gotta catch him, no slip-ups.

Just as I’m thinking it through, the area around the second storage shed suddenly buzzes with movement.

“Here he comes!”

A hooded figure dashes past the guards, cutting them down one by one, heading straight for the warehouse. No doubt—he parachuted in.

I spring the machine upright in an instant, stepping forward toward the warehouse door.

Drawing my sword from the Artifigouge, I raise it, blade aimed straight at the hooded figure’s approach.

“Stop!”

The figure halts.

Height’s maybe a hundred fifty—surprisingly small. Thin limbs. A woman?

You’re the one who came down with a parachute, huh? Take off the hood and show your face. Make a funny move, and I’ll crush you flat.

If I so much as twitch this lever now, the man in the hood’ll be crushed flat by the blade’s tip. No hesitation. One flicker of odd movement—just one—and I’ll pull the lever.

I tighten my grip, eyes on the other’s movements.

And the other person slowly raised both hands above their head.

"Take off the hood."

Following my instruction, his hand swept back the hood and gave a slight shake of the head.

Under the hood, dark hair shimmered—flowing back, pulled into a ponytail.

And there, on the face I saw—my heart flinched.

Slender face, red eyes. That face—no one could mistake it for anything but a beauty straight out of a dream.

"Rayla..."

Long time no see, Eld.

There she was—Leyra, with that same smile she always wore back in academy days.