2

"Got my spirits up, but now what the hell do I do?"

Before Batis stood a force of over ten Armunale, and a battalion of Abnomule that might’ve numbered ten times that.

No matter how skilled a pilot you were, calmly overcoming such a gap? Impossible.

So what’s the plan?

"Wait for reinforcements? The ones behind us’ll come again once they’re all in sync. For now, just hold out—then what, though?"

Even with ten Armunale of our own, that doesn’t mean our defense line’s guaranteed to hold.

If the Avilabomb shows up, we’ll have to scramble the skies again. And before that—Armunale magic could break through the base’s walls, no problem.

If they get close to the base, the walls won’t hold—next thing you know, the Abnomyle forces’ll be pouring in. Our Abnomyle units can’t keep up with their production rate yet. If the specs are equal, the side with more numbers always wins.

So we’ve got no choice but to stop them here. They’ve thrown everything at us—won’t back down easy. Still, we’ve got to do everything we can.

But there’s something else nagging at me.

Not the rear lines, not our own troops—what’s happening in the capital.

How much will the news of the Emperor’s passing and the Second Prince’s death shake morale?

They’re attacking now, which means they’ve got word the capital’s already fallen. That means the enemy’s likely already spread the news of the Emperor’s death. How long can we hold the line when that happens?

"Damn it, mulling over all that stuff ain't my style!"

Shaking off the mental clutter—Leon was the one for that—Batis focused on the here and now, slamming his foot down on the pedal.

"First things first—thin 'em out. Eld did the same when he pulled back his unit, didn’t he?"

A single Almurnale charged straight at him, and the enemy flinched for a heartbeat before three more Almurnale stepped forward.

Likely mercenaries’ gear—probably eager for glory, he figured. Batis slowed, drew his sword.

"Alright then—first one to step up? Or you all wanna take me on at once!?"

"Then it’s me!"

Batis’s taunt snapped the enemy into motion—immediately, one Almurnale surged forward.

If this were a proper army, they’d’ve swarmed me all at once. But these are mercenaries. They’re here for glory, competing with each other. Easy to handle.

The moment the Armunale surged forward, I locked blades with it—cutting through the air—and at the same time, unleashed magic at its feet.

Shock Burst. Standard issue on academy machines—efficient, low power. It’d be nullified by a Magic Shield if aimed at the Armunale. But I sent it into the ground instead. Shook the footing.

Just a small dent in the earth. But enough to throw off the Armunale’s balance—its massive frame had to strain hard to keep upright, bracing against my sword.

The dirt shifted. The enemy wobbled—just slightly.

I drove forward, quick as a blink, shoved it hard—down, right where it stood.

“First one!”

I swung the sword straight at the cockpit. But the enemy machine twisted its body—just enough—and the blade pierced clean through the side of the cockpit instead.

“Not gonna go down easy, you hear me!”

Armunale, pierced through the side of the chest, didn’t so much as flinch—mechanical, after all, no pain to feel.

Before I could blink, the enemy’s right arm shot out, grabbing hold of Batis’s machine.

“Tch.”

Batis shifted sharply, lunging sideways, and yanked the arm off with a wrench.

Meanwhile, the enemy was pulling the sword free from its own frame, turning it into a weapon—though its left arm still dragged, stiff as a broken hinge.

“Looks like I got the joint good and broke,” I muttered. “Then let’s finish it.”

I stepped forward, ready to end it—when the enemy machine started backing up. And right on cue, another one stepped in from the front. Like a change of players.

“Not bad,” I said, grinning. “Guess it’s my turn now.”

"Hey, it's my turn, right?"

"First come, first served."

"Then it's me!"

Two mercenaries stepped forward, jostling like players switching sides. The others still seemed unsure what to do. Batis checked the rear on his monitor.

Near the base’s outer wall, the Armunale unit had regrouped, and the Abnomule force was ready to move at any moment.

That’s fine—we can drag them right up to the base without a problem.

I’ve got the confidence to win even against two, but knowing I might not be able to keep it up, Batis chose to slowly fall back.

"Would be nice to go wild like that guy, though."

But I know damn well the gap between me and Eld. That’s exactly why I’m giving it everything I’ve got right here, right now—pushing myself to the limit, just to get the best result I can.

He caught both blades with sword and shield, leaning back hard to absorb the shock. Then forward again.

Diving into the side of one machine, he slammed with a shoulder tackle.

The enemy unit deftly caught the impact.

“Ooh, close one.”

“Good thing you caught it? Gonna claim the glory now?”

“Nice work! Hold it tight!”

Just as Batis said, the other machine was caught and pinned—sword already swinging toward it.

But the blade cut empty air.

The machine that had held it let go, slipping clear of the swing’s path.

“This one’s mine, I said!”

“You said ‘first come, first served’!”

The two pilots started bickering mid-dance. Meanwhile, Batis steadied his machine, circling around behind the enemy.

Keep the arguing to a minimum, now.

The machine gets stabbed from behind with a sword.

The tip burst out from the back up to the neck, turning the pilot into meat with absolute certainty.

"Finally one. Eld’d probably have taken down three by now. Well, me? I’m me."

yanking the sword free, I kick the ruined machine into another one—

The enemy craft dodged the flying machine, retreating while spewing flame lances. In response, Abnomyle’s force—until now only creeping forward at a slow pace—suddenly surged forward in attack.

Mercs care about results—but they’re even more sharp on the cost of things.

Armunale—just thinking about one of those things, you’re always calculating how much you could earn, how much you could lose, with the kind of money that moves like a storm.

One of them pulled back—decided fighting Batis would cost more than it was worth, so they used the Abnomule as bait and slipped out of the line.

Batis saw several more Armunales retreating to the rear. He took it as his cue.

“Look at that—trouble’s gone, see? Even the seniors can handle an Abnomule, can’t they?”

“Don’t you go getting cocky!”

“Remember that later, when you’re eating dust.”

“Yeah, that’s the kind of thing that spells doom.”

Even rotten, these Armunale pilots were still top-tier talent.

Seeing his chance, he launched a full assault with the unit that’d regrouped behind him.

Front and center, two forces crashed together—suddenly, the whole field was chaos.

“Wait… wasn’t it one Armunale per one hundred fifty Abnomules?”

Cost-wise, sure. But in terms of battle results? Doesn’t matter. It’s whether we can crush the Armunales or not.

“Out front, it’s just all show-offs flexing their arms. Don’t get cocky.”

“Got it!”

The knights pushed through the Abnomules, heading straight for the Armunales.

All around, Abnomules were already clashing with one another—explosions rippled through the field.

The Abnomules’ Sefia Generators weren’t that expensive. Unlike the Armunales, they were smashing them one after another. The magic fluid—Magia Liquid—spilling out from the ruptured units was what caused the explosions.

“Show-off much?”

From a safer distance, Batis murmured, scanning the battlefield.

We’re outnumbered, so we’re at a disadvantage—still, we’ve got them pinned down after that first strike. If I could, I’d have the Armunale unit crush the enemy Armunale right here, but the Armunale knights are already struggling against the sheer physical mass of the Abnomyle.

Where to throw myself in to turn this? Batis thought, his foot pressing down on the pedal.

“Abnomyle unit—follow me! We’re breaking through the wall!”

Batis chose the battlefield where the Abnomyle units clashed head-on.

It’d take time, sure—but taking down an Armunale with an Abnomyle? Nearly impossible. Right now, with all this pushing and shoving, the knights shouldn’t get knocked over too badly. So, we’d go for a wedge in the spot where the Abnomyle units were evenly matched, force the enemy back. Sure, no medals for crushing a few Abnomyle units—no flashy victory—but this was a vital position, one that could win the whole battlefield.

Batis charged straight at the enemy Abnomyle unit, leapt high, and slammed his knee into the lead machine.

As it staggered back, he slid his own body through the gap—sword and shield flashing, one enemy after another falling.

“Now that’s just… unstoppable.”

Pull the lever, and two enemies go down. Use magic, and three more get blown apart.

The feeling—like tearing through straw dummies—had Batis’s spirits soaring, no matter how he tried to resist.

“Hahaha! Who’s next!”

“Me!”

Before Batis, wreaking havoc in Abnomyle’s ranks, appeared one Armunale. Its coloring matched the imperial regulars.

“Imperial knight, huh? Fine, I’ll take you on. You take the others!”

‘Understood!’

Thanks to Batis, the kingdom’s Abnomyle unit surged forward—pressing hard. Amid this sudden advantage, two Armunales faced off.

The enemy Armunale carried the standard sword and shield. Nearly identical to Batis’s own.

“Looks like a test of skill.”

“Yield!”

The enemy machine swings its sword at Batis’s machine. I block it with my shield, then slash upward—only to have it firmly caught by the enemy’s shield.

“Huh.”

“Not bad, knight. But still too soft!”

The enemy slides the sword down their shield, then smacks the joint of my right arm.

The impact shudders through the blade, just enough to twist its path off course. In that split second, they let go of the shield and grab my shoulder instead.

“What the—!?”

“Still got a lot to learn.”

My shoulder jolts under their grip, the machine rocking hard left and right.

No real problem for the machine. But not so much for the person inside.

Every violent lurch slams me into my belt. Breath chokes out.

Can’t shake them off—left arm’s useless, right arm’s pinned to my shoulder, locked in place.

Back when people used to fight each other. I’ve heard they’d knock out foes in armor by sending shocks through their bodies. Even if you’re wrapped in Armunale, you’re still just flesh and blood!

You think you can get away with that?!

Blood sloshing to one side from the violent lurch, Batis drops low in the cockpit and kicks straight at the enemy’s feet.

Of course it dodges—then lands a crushing step on his own leg.

A sickening *crack* echoes. The monitor flashes red: severe damage to the right leg.

But Batis doesn’t stop.

He spins the machine on the spot.

The enemy, still stepping on him, wobbles slightly—and in that instant, Batis swings his arm from the shoulder, rolling the unit away, putting space between himself and the enemy.

—Managed to get out, somehow…

His right leg’s badly damaged. Put even a little more strain on it, and it’ll snap any second.

And the situation was getting worse.

The Kingdom Abnomyle troops around him were starting to give way.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Just a moment ago, those Abnomyle troops had been charging ahead—now they were being pushed back hard, and the drop in morale was clear from the voices echoing through the air.

“I—well, the capital’s been attacked…”

“Is the King safe? Is he—?”

“Shouldn’t a knight know something like that?!”

“Was yesterday’s meeting… about this?”

“Tch!”

Batis spat sharply at the words thrown at him from the Abnomyle ranks.

They’d just revealed that the Imperial Abnomyle forces had launched an assault on the capital. And now, morale here was crumbling fast.

Hmm, so far then. I’ll take your head.

Not a chance. I’m not done yet.

I force the machine upright, blade raised.

“Good spirit. Then I’ll finish you with my blade!”

The enemy machine lunges, sword coming in. I try to block—but my right leg won’t obey, strength won’t gather.

I’m done for.

That thought hits—then a single bullet rips through the enemy’s head.

“Grr—what kind of move is that, interrupting a real fight!?”

“If you want a fair one-on-one, go train at the dojo. Batis, if you’re moving, get back. I’ll cover.”

It was one of the Abnomyle machines.

“That voice… Leon!?”

“Yeah.”

“What about the Armunale unit!?”

“Right now, the deputy and the scouts are useless. Anyone who can pilot is on an Abnomyle.”

The Armunale unit was set up for skirmishes—deputy and scouts galloping across the battlefield on horseback. But right now, that’d just mean getting crushed under an Abnomyle’s tread.

So the base commander had ordered every knight who could pilot to launch.

“Also, Batis—get better at that harmonica pistol. That’s still our one real edge.”

“Right, right!”

Batis fished the harmonica pistol out from wherever he’d forgotten it, aimed it point-blank at an enemy machine, and fired.

The enemy snapped back, deflecting the shot with its shield—but a few rounds slipped through, burrowing into its joints.

“Huh…”

“Alright, then. Now’s our chance. Win or lose. Remember that.”

He tossed off the parting words, then fell back to base under Leon’s cover.

By then, the fighting had paused—both machines were running on fumes.

“Damn it.”

Batis clenched his fist, staring up at the battered machine.

Leon joined him, having stowed his own frame.

“Looks rough.”

“Rough? You could say that. Got creamed by that knight.”

“Yeah, he was strong. That’s what real skill looks like. Just getting out of that mess is something.”

“But if it’d been Eld… he could’ve beaten that knight.”

Batis, watching Eld’s fight from horseback, felt certain Eld could’ve handled that knight with ease. Leon nodded—he felt the same.

Maybe. But that’s Eld for you. I always thought Eld had this weird kind of strength—hard to pin down. But watching that fight just now, I realized something. His strength isn’t just wild, sudden bursts of motion. It’s the kind that comes from years of knowing exactly what to do.

"Isn’t that guy our batchmate?"

But I can’t think of anything else. Don’t know where he picked up that kind of experience, but Eld’s used to fighting with the Armunale.

…………

Don’t rush. We’ve still got time. If we keep gaining experience, we’ll catch up to Eld for sure. We’ve already built the foundation for that back in academy days, haven’t we?

Batis was always being compared to Eld, just because they were in the same class.

Eld, then Eld, if it were Eld.

I’d heard those words over and over—felt the frustration spark inside us every single time.

But that’s true of Leon too.

“Batis’s still fine. You’re second only to Eld when it comes to speed in the Armunale unit. But I’m still stuck as deputy captain.”

“Sorry…”

Leon noticed the same urgency in Batis’s voice, and gave a small apology in return.

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning to simmer here forever. Anyway, let’s figure out how to deal with that knight. Even the other captains struggle with him.”

“Yeah. Next time, we’ve got to take him down for good.”

“Gotta catch up to Eld, too.”

The two of them turned their thoughts to the next battle, plotting their strategy.