3

Next morning. As the sun peeked over the mountain shadows, the enemy attack began.

Batis and the others moved out too, and by dawn the open plain echoed with the clamor of battle.

“Abnomyle unit—hold the line! If they break through, they’ll be on us in an instant!”

“Thirteenth unit—stick with me!”

“Yeah, back to our old team-up, huh!”

“Twentieth unit—wounded. Can’t keep fighting. Pulling back.”

“I’ll cover the gap!”

Thanks to last night’s coordination between units, the Armunale commanders managed to keep the line steady, holding their ground.

In the midst of it all, Batis stood slightly apart from the main fighting, cutting down Abnomyle soldiers.

Leon was right beside him, of course.

“Leon—handle that side.”

“No problem. Just keep your eyes on the front, Batis.”

"Here we go! Right, move out!"

A bullet whizzed past Batis’s machine, punching through Abnomyle’s cockpit as the pilot raised his blade.

In that same instant, Batis pierced and kicked apart two more ahead, shredding them to scrap.

Batis and Leon—right behind them, the near-total force of Abnomyle’s base poured in from the rear.

From the cracked opening, the divided enemy Abnomyle forces were being cut down one by one. A cry rose from their ranks.

"Why? Why’s morale so high all of a sudden?!"

"The attack on the capital was supposed to succeed!"

"What’s going on?!"

"Hah. You really think our soldiers crack under this?"

"Last night was a mess, sure."

"Leon... you’re gonna ruin it by overdoing it, aren’t you?"

But really, Leon was right—last night was damn near a disaster.

The soldiers, fed intel from the enemy, went into a panic. They flooded the command center, all clamoring at once.

At the time, Batis was in the hangar, fixing the mech—but even there, amid the deafening clang of repairs, the chaos was unmistakable.

It was the Second Princess Ines, sent in an emergency from the capital, who finally calmed things down.

“Huh. Never thought a royal’d show up on the front lines.”

The letter’s contents were simple: Ines would take command from now on, overseeing the military until the next generation of leaders could be shaped.

If that were all, the unease might’ve spread even more.

The Second Princess was barely of age this year—just a girl. Unlike the Second Prince, who’d been drilled since childhood to run the military.

Could she even lead properly? Just a spoiled girl, really. What good’s she gonna do out there on the front lines? No wonder folks are worried.

But then came the next line—quieted all that doubt.

As Ines headed to the front, her Guard Knight, Eld, was going too.

Thanks to his past victories, Eld was already treated like a hero.

So having someone like that out there? Of course morale would rise.

Still, two people in the back were starting to feel the heat.

“Eld’s coming back from the front. We gotta settle things here before that happens. Can you imagine what’ll be said if we don’t?”

“Worse yet—what if all the glory gets snatched by Eld? In a way, this might be our last chance.”

“Yeah… exactly!”

Batis split the enemy’s Abnomyle unit clean in two in one smooth motion, then surged toward the mercenaries’ Armunale hidden behind.

“H-hey… they’re here already…”

“Why’s there a freak like this?!”

“Could this be the guy who wiped out the base with two machines?”

“Numbers are on our side. Surround and crush them—shouldn’t be a problem. Truce for now.”

“Damn it… fine!”

“Can’t die here, not like this!”

Three Armunale emerged in front of Batis. One more lingered behind, but didn’t look like it planned to join the fight. Still, with magic strikes unpredictable, no one could afford to relax.

“Who’s first?”

“Looks like a fool.”

“How the hell would I know?!”

None of the machines looked all that special. At best, each bore a mercenary company’s emblem on the shoulder—though even those were all ridiculous: skulls, swords, tacky hearts, the usual nonsense.

“Means everyone’s an idiot.”

“Ah, clear as day. So, all at once, huh?”

Batis’s machine stepped forward. The enemy unit tried to cast magic, but Leon seized the moment, firing lead pellets one after another into the enemy’s leg joints.

Just one shot. Enough to twist the joints a little, maybe—but not enough to break them.

Still, the enemy wobbled, lost its balance, and the aim slipped off course.

Batis didn’t so much as blink at the magic detonating inches away—kept straight on, didn’t slow a hair, kicked straight into the middle of the enemy machines.

The foe blocked it with a shield, sure—but the shock knocked its balance clean out, sent it tumbling backward.

Batis didn’t stop. Swung his aim to the next machine, the one lying on its side.

Swung the sword sideways, shoved the enemy back a step, then dropped low, riding the momentum, stretched a leg out to hook the one retreating.

Just as the second machine went down, the last one finally struck—only to be caught by Leon’s Abnomyle.

“Just a mass-produced model!?”

The enemy shoved hard, trying to crush him outright—but Leon didn’t brace, didn’t resist. Let himself be pushed back, slow and steady.

But that’s fine. The point was just a second’s delay, after all.

“Gotcha!”

Batis lunged forward, sword flashing past Abnomyle’s waist—so close, it nearly grazed.

The attack, hidden in Abnomyle’s own shadow, completely pierced the enemy’s cockpit.

“First one down.”

“Batis, magic’s coming!”

“Got it!”

At Leon’s signal, Batis cranked up the magic shield’s output. The shield’s reach expanded—now covering not just Batis’s own machine, but Leon’s as well.

Right after, magic flared from the two fallen machines, one after another.

The two magics fizzled out, weakened by Batis’s magic shield—neither machine could land a killing blow. In that moment, Batis and Leon, both holding their harmonica pistrels, aimed at one target and pulled the triggers in unison.

Pump-pump-pump-pump—firing in rapid succession, six rounds slammed into the enemy cockpit.

A few bounced off the armor, but the repeated strikes close together stretched the plating thin—finally pierced by the last two.

“Guess I’m the first to take down an Armunale with a Harmonica Pistrel.”

“Nice work. Let’s keep climbing.”

“Not before we finish these two.”

“Who’d fight a bunch of cowards like that?”

“True. Then let’s get it done quick.”

Two of them fixed their gaze on the machine, its stance clearly a flinch—sword raised, but the whole thing leaning back like it was trying to crawl away. Machines shouldn’t wobble like that, not when they’re supposed to be mechanical. If even the machine itself was cowering, then the fear must’ve been real.

Felt the focus shift to one of them, a burst of magic from behind—wasted. Batis’s magic shield ate it all up, like it was nothing.

The shield’s power was up to max now, so Batis couldn’t fire back with magic the way she wanted. But she didn’t need to. The enemy was already broken.

Sword raised. Timing set. Both lunged forward.

The fleeing machine swung its blade at Leon with reckless abandon—probably figured a bit of resistance with the Abnomyle would be better than nothing.

But that slash was easily caught by Leon’s machine.

A cut without weight—no matter how mechanical, it wasn’t worth a damn.

Just as Batis lunged in from the side with his sword, magic ripped through the ground just beyond the edge of the magic shield.

“What the—?”

“Him again.”

While Batis stared, Leon calmly used the camera to pinpoint the source of the magic.

It was an Armunale—another one, streaming in from a different battlefield.

“Found you at last. The one from yesterday.”

“You—old man from yesterday?”

“Hah. I’m not that old. But I’m the one who’ll bring you down!”

“That’s my line, you fool. Leon, handle that one!”

Before the words were even out, Batis was already charging at the newcomer.

Leon held down the enemy machine, shaking his head with a tired sigh.

You haven’t forgotten I’m riding an Abnomyle, have you? Honestly.

Thanks to the reinforcements, the enemy pilot’s hands steadied a bit—got a grip on the controls again, shoved the machine hard into the fight.

Leon immediately released the pressure of the clash, letting the enemy machine slide past as he pivoted back.

This machine’s not much good to work with, I’ll say that much.

Leon felt the same kind of wonder he’d had the first time he’d ridden aboard the Abnomyle.

The controls on the Abnomyle feel clumsy, somehow.

Armunale, you could just twitch the lever a little and it’d jump to attention, give you exactly what you wanted. But with Abnomule, not a flicker.

It’ll respond quick enough if you give it a solid shove—just twitch the lever, and it’ll snap to attention, do exactly what you want. But with Abnomule? Not a flicker.

So aiming the Harmonica Pistle is a real pain.

Sure, it auto-aligns to some extent, but the enemy’s moving too. That correction still needs a human hand.

If your aim slips even a hair, you’re not gonna punch through armor with a Harmonica Pistle—can’t make it work.

“Still, that’s what a knight’s for, I suppose.”

I press the Harmonica Pistle’s barrel hard against the enemy’s back, thumb on the trigger.

Boom—bullet fired at zero distance. Crumples the armor, barely breaks through.

But it’s not the cockpit. Just where the cables bunch up around the waist.

The shattered armor crashes inside the frame, shards slicing through the cables. The bullet, still wild inside, sparks a cascade of damage.

“W-what?!”

The pilot, stunned by the sudden flood of errors from a single bullet, cries out.

“Hmm. Zero distance—one shot’ll do it. Damage’s not to be underestimated.”

Leon checks the situation, then aims at the cockpit and fires.

The mercenary’s body dissolves into meaty pulp—no time to understand.

“Now then… the one in back’s completely frozen. That one.”

Having stepped out of the magic shield’s range, he glances back, then checks Batis.

The two machines are locked in a brutal, face-to-face deadlock.

“You son of a—did you really pull that yesterday?”

“War’s war. Killing and being killed’s the natural order.”

Then I’ll be the one doing the killing!

That’s a wish that’ll never come true!

Hmph—

For a split second, strength drained away. The Batis unit lurched forward, then the pressure slammed into it.

Crushed inward, the machine’s back arched painfully.

"Once grown, you’re a dangerous thing. Better knock you down now, while you’re still small!"

"Don’t you dare underestimate me!"

The Batis unit deflected the opponent’s sword. But with the enemy pressing in, no counter remained.

If they get inside my guard, this awkwardly postured machine’ll be toppled in an instant—finished.

"Rattled, are we?"

A voice, faintly tinged with disappointment, drifted from the enemy unit. Hearing it, Batis stomped the foot pedals hard, then severed the control balancer.

"Not a chance!"

The机体, its balancer severed, took the pedal input straight through—its legs kicked up into the air like a startled hare. The machine, in turn, toppled backward into the dirt.

But that was exactly what Batis had wanted.

He tossed aside sword and shield, slapped his hands down on the ground above his head.

His lifted legs spun through the air in a wide arc, kicking the enemy machine square in the chest. Then, still spinning from the recoil, he flipped upright—like a backflip, but with less grace.

Batis checked that the machine was level, snapped the balancer back in place, and let out a soft, relieved breath.

“Guess I can still do something at the last minute.”

“…Unorthodox move.”

The enemy machine, struck in the chest, couldn’t close the gap—it stumbled back. In that moment, Batis drew the harmonica piston from his waist and fired it straight at the enemy.

But every bullet just bounced off the shield and armor.

“Guess it’s hopeless against Armunale, huh.”

He tossed the harmonica piston aside and unsheathed the last blade from the joint.

Shield was gone. Only this one weapon remained.

“Batis, gonna help out?”

“Hold the back. Little flies might swarm.”

“Got it.”

Seeing Batis at a disadvantage, the unit lurking behind began advancing. Leon took care of that. Batis called for a one-on-one.

“Feeling alright, fighting alone like this?”

“Hah. If I can’t break through here by myself, I’ll never catch up to him.”

“Hmm. Pride, is it? Still, picking a fight you want to win? That’s a mistake right here!”

The enemy machine moved.

Straight-on charge.

Batis advanced just the same, narrowly dodging the sword thrusting from the enemy machine.

The blade slicing past his side scraped armor, sparking fire. Batis’s sword struck the enemy’s shield.

The blade that had slipped in beneath his arm instantly swung upward. Batis read the move and slammed his sword hard into the side, pinning it.

“Got your sword locked down!”

“Useless!”

“Wha—!?”

In an instant, the blade he’d pinned slid free—clean through Batis’s left arm.

The blade’s edge was coated in ice reflecting the morning light, faint white smoke curling off it.

“Forgot, did you? Magic isn’t just something you throw.”

“Gah!”

He jumped back on instinct, but the descending sword ripped right through the front armor.

The monitor cracked from the impact—cracks spreading through the ruined plating, letting the outside world through.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

I stumble back, trying to put distance between us, but he’s right on my heels, swinging his sword again.

Batis raises his blade to block—but the enchanted edge snaps through like it’s nothing.

"Unarmed now. Checkmate, kid."

I lash out with a desperate spell, but it barely scratches the magic shield, fizzling out in a shallow burn.

Just as the sword comes down toward Batis’s cockpit, a thunderclap splits the air—something’s come flying in from above.

"Wha—? No Avila bombs were scheduled!?!"

"New threat!?!"

From the dust, it lunges—straight for the enemy machine, driving its blade into the side with a sharp, brutal thrust.

"Enemy!?!"

The enemy machine dodges at the last second, pulling back, putting space between the two of them.

And slowly, the machine emerged from the dust and smoke.

A rugged, silver-painted frame.

No mistake—exactly the same model Leon rode, the kingdom’s Abnomyle.

“Phew… I thought I was a goner. Forzé was supposed to be a two-seater, wasn’t she?”

“W-who the hell was that!? What was that!?”

“Huh? That voice… Batis?”

The Abnomyle turns, asking. And Batis suddenly recognizes the voice.

“Wait—Eld!? What’re you doing in an Abnomyle!?”

“Hey, it’s a royal order. Just sweep the area around the house, that’s all. Oh, and my own machine’s in the shop.”

He says it like he’s telling someone to rake up a few fallen leaves—completely ridiculous, utterly casual.

Eld’s back on the front line! But his machine’s a mass-produced model!