3

Two weeks had passed since we reached the front lines.

The Abnomyle unit, which had taken part in the muster at the capital, had already arrived—supplies replenished, gear checked, and now fitted into the line.

The lineup’s all set now.

But that stretch of time was more than enough for the other side to strengthen their ranks.

At first, I figured we’d get about three squads in a month—guess the Empire pushed the production line pretty hard, though.

Half of what I expected—three battalions arrived in two weeks.

That’s what had the higher-ups rattled, naturally.

Should we shift the troops, call for more reinforcements, or think up a different plan?

Meetings went on day after day, and the princess, General Maurice, General Kruze, and the rest of the officers were starting to wear down, little by little.

If we keep going like this, the Second Princess decided, we’ll be beaten before we even raise a sword.

Two days later. The Fatal army deployed into the buffer zone, just as originally planned.

The Overd Empire responded to the movement by deploying their forces.

We’ve got the numbers on our side—fifteen Armunale, including me, and three hundred fifty Abnomule.

Meanwhile, on Overd’s side, even just what we’ve confirmed—thirteen Armunale units and four hundred fifty-five Abnomule units. And considering each squad has one Armunale assigned to it, there could easily be a few more lurking in the rear as reinforcements.

Numbers-wise, we’re definitely at a disadvantage. But this fight ain’t about the whole army charging head-on at once.

Fatal and Overd each brought specialized units, reconfigured with Abnomyle armaments tailored to their own styles.

We’ve grouped our units by function—general, close-combat, and ranged—into small squads, so they can cover each other more easily. Overd’s forces, on the other hand, seem split into front and back lines. Front line’s got general and close-combat types, back line’s ranged. Probably they’ve customized each unit’s role, so they can support one another across the whole battlefield.

A subtle difference in formation—how it’ll play out in the fight, neither side knows yet.

Which is exactly why we’re going with the plan we believe in.

“This air… doesn’t feel like something I’d grow fond of.”

I mutter from behind the opposing lines, watching it all unfold.

My position’s dead center in the Seventh Unit—right behind the keep. The keep’s built on a slight rise, even in the buffer zone, so I can see the whole battlefield from here.

Everything’s taut, like a string about to snap. One wrong move, one finger on the trigger—boom. That’d be the signal. No surprise there.

Then, up on the keep’s roof, the princess steps out.

She grabs the microphone set up there.

“My name is Ines Norbelle Fatal. I am the military overseer of the Fatal Kingdom!”

The voice blasts out through the amplification spell, echoing across the field—reaching the imperial headquarters, too.

We won’t stand for any more of the Empire’s cruelty. Knights of Fatal! The ones behind you—your family, your lover, your friends. The people of Fatal don’t fight with might for conquest! But! When it comes to protecting what matters, our strength will be unleashed! Right now, before us stands what threatens us! To the threat—draw your swords! Raise your shields against the fists that strike! And for our sake, shatter their blades to dust! Raise your swords! Let our victory roar through the blue sky! Give us victory!

‘Give us victory!’

The sword held high in the air glints, its tip blazing—soldiers’ voices shake the ground.

Now then. How will the enemy answer that call?

Zooming in on the monitor, there he was—just one man standing by Armunale’s hand. A microphone in his grip, too.

"Brave soldiers of Overd! I am Ezel Rezatris, commander-in-chief of the Armunale and Abnomyle combined forces! The long-standing skirmish with Fatal is over! Overd’s power is worthy of ruling this world! The Emperor is the true sovereign of all! Therefore! This battle is merely the opening act! Look before you—what pitiful soldiers they are! Outnumbered, outclassed, and led by a girl! Who dares doubt our victory? The swords raised to the sky will today rust and become tombstones in this plain! We are strong. Crush the weak with might! The Emperor sees this battle as the beginning of world unification! And so He entrusted us with a single blade! Look, Overd’s mighty soldiers! Look, Fatal’s meek little troops! This is the mightiest sword of the empire! First seat among the Eight Great Knights! The great Meola In Leveta!"

Eld pointed his arm sideways. There, peering through the tent flap, stood one Armunale, rising up as it brushed aside the cloth.

“The empire’s mightiest will ravage this battlefield! You just need to cut down the enemy in front of you. That’s all it takes to win this war! The first step toward world unity—taken by us! Victory to the empire! And to the emperor, the world!”

“Victory to the empire! And to the emperor, the world!”

Hmm. The morale on the imperial side is absolutely sky-high.

That easel of theirs—pretty sharp, ain't it? Raising our spirits, tearing down the enemy, making the gap in strength plain as day. Then, dropping in a reassuring ally at the perfect moment. Every move hits right—shakes the enemy, stokes our fire. And calling their commander a little girl? Smooth. That’s our mistake, not putting Maurice or Kruze beside Lady Ines.

They’ve been on enough battlefields to know how to work the crowd.

But the real issue isn’t that.

We knew, from intel, that one of the Eight Knights was here. So I figured my opponent’d be the second seat. Guess I was wrong. Looks like my real target’s him.

Zoom in on the first seat’s unit, as shown on the monitor.

The machine, a deep green, wore a crimson cloak and had eight swords strapped to its waist—each linked by their hilts, forming a circle like a skirt.

Its left-hand shield was small, strapped directly to the arm.

Nothing else stood out, but I can’t believe the first seat’s the only one worth watching. Still, gotta keep an eye on it.

Well, first seat’s definitely my opponent—no doubt about that. So where’s the second seat, the one I was aiming for originally?

I scan the monitor, focusing on the enemy unit’s rear. Armunale’s usually strong, so it’ll probably be on the move.

—There it is.

The zoomed-in image’s a bit grainy, but I catch it.

Then again, a sword the size of a person’s height? Hard to miss from a distance.

The second seat’s easy to spot—positioned off-center, northward. If someone charges straight from there, the responding unit’s gotta be the Second Abnomyle. And the supporting Armunale—wait… oh. Batis and Elekxia. A clash of great swords… I’d’ve liked to see that, really.

Well, can’t be helped. I’ll leave Batis to handle it.

Now… where’s my top priority?

North’s mostly checked. I shift my gaze south.

And there—among the units holding back—I spot it.

“Folzé. You really came, huh.”

Looks a little different, but the core’s the same. That pitch-black frame—no mistaking it. Folzé’s. Which means the one beside it, holding that curved blade…

“Rayla.”

The one I’ve sworn to kill with my own hands.

Well, now I’ve got my target right here on this battlefield. Looks like it’s gonna be a proper mess.

“Pespilarge… this one’s gonna be a real stretch. Might come apart at the seams, but I’m counting on you.”

I ran a hand over the console—felt the generator hum, like it was saying, “Leave it to me.”

◇

“Advance, all units!”

“Attack formation—engage! General-purpose and close-combat squads, move forward! Close-combat units, stay behind the general-purpose! Shooters, get your aim right! Cut ’em down as much as you can before contact!”

With Ines’s shout, Cruze spat out rapid orders, shifting the pieces across the field.

“First to seventh units—advance! Eighth to thirteenth—open fire! Prioritize the ones closing in! Tell the mercenaries to go mobile—don’t forget to flank from both sides!”

At the same time, Izel starts giving orders.

Both sides close the distance in an instant, bullets flying through the air as the front lines crash into one another.

The Fatal unit has more numbers and greater strength, but the supporting fire from behind is heavier on Overd’s side, and they can’t seem to make a real dent in the formation—slowly, they’re being whittled down.

“Shooters, advance! We’ve got longer range! Let’s draw their shooters out!”

“Shooters, spread left and right! Staying tight means you’ll get hit by stray shots!”

When it comes to sniping, Fatal has the edge—by a hair.

Overd keeps firing from beyond range, picking off enemy shooters bit by bit. But Izel isn’t just standing there watching.

Spreading the unit thin and wide on the spot—stopped near-misses from hitting our own, while slowly wearing down the front line.

Without the front-line generalists and close-combat units, it’d be hell trying to handle enemy snipers closing in.

Kluse caught on instantly, sending orders to the front line.

“Don’t let a single close-combat unit break through! Generalists, shield the close-combat squads as you move! Keep it chaotic—always!”

“Second, Fourth, Sixth—fall back! First, Third, Fifth, Seventh—form a wall!”

With the close-combat units pulling back, the enemy’s wall thinned. A few overconfident pilots, eager to press the advantage, charged straight through the weakened gap.

But that was right in the crossfire range of the shooters. And we’d already retreated—leaving a gaping hole in the middle.

“Now! Concentrate fire on the shooting unit!”

A volley, perfectly timed, clipped off more than a few units.

“Don’t break formation! Break it, and we’re done for!”

The order from command stirred the troops into motion.

Messages flew from rider to rider, racing beyond shouting distance.

“General Maurice, send out the Armunale one by one. The enemy commander’s sharp—too sharp. If we don’t break his line, we’ll be pushed back.”

“Right. Advance each Armunale in the line—hit the head of the enemy force!”

Kruze demanded the Armunale be deployed to throw the enemy off balance. Maurice gave the order.

"Fight back! Think about the Armunale—don’t let it fall! The rear Armunale advances. When it’s two against one, strike!"

"Crush them before reinforcements arrive! Give the Abnomyle unit a hard time too! Harmonica Pistres can snap their joints!"

"Abnomyle unit, advance! Don’t give them a second to look away! Shooting squad, forward! Assault their shooting squad!"

"Keep pressing the attack! Their guns can’t pierce our shields!"

With the Armunale thrown into the fray, the battle grew sharper, crueler, more brutal.

◇

"Finally got orders, huh? Can I go now?"

"You’d go even if I stopped you. Do what you want. But if Batis the captain starts fighting like a coward, I’ll take over myself."

Hahahaha! Lieutenant Excilia, today I’m something special! Let’s go—Exsplarage!

The machine, armed with twin greatswords, the personal unit of Batis, Exsplarage, moved forward as per Maurice’s orders.

"Move aside! Batis-sama’s passing through!"

Cutting through the gunfire squad, it plunged straight into the front-line clash and brought the swords down in one swift sweep.

The twin blades slammed into the ground—exploding on impact, sending a blast of dirt and debris crashing into the surrounding machines.

"Damn it, Armunale!"

"Commander’s—!"

"Armunale’s ignored! We’re after the Abnomule!"

"Hey now, ignoring’s kinda lonely, ain’t it?"

The great sword slashed through the machine that had looked away from Batis, splitting it clean in two, then spun once more with the momentum, sending another nearby unit—shield and all—flying.

“C’mon, this bunch ain’t even warm-up! Come out, you captain bloke. Or else your whole squad’s gonna be wiped out!”

Batis kept taunting, but his movements were quick—dispatching the nearby Abnomule one after another.

Then, seizing the brief pause in the enemy’s advance, he pushed deeper into their ranks.

“Nowhere to hide here! I’m gonna blow you to bits—no holding back!”

Batis’s great sword was no ordinary blade. Built with a built-in activation processor—what we call a sense board—inside the blade, it could trigger explosions at any point along the edge, just by channeling concentrated magical fluid—Hyimagia Liquid—through it.

That’s why he can’t use the move properly if his friends are nearby—can’t bring it all out.

“Here we go!”

“Not on my watch!”

A single Abnomyle swung in, aiming to cleave Batis.

Batis blocked the blow with his greatsword—then triggered an explosion, sending the enemy’s blade flying from its grip.

No weapon left? He lunged with the other sword—enemy raised its left arm to block.

“Too easy, too easy! Explotion!”

The explosion erupted at the tiny ridge where blade met hilt—his greatsword surged forward from the shock.

“Hahaha, fighting with a cowardly knight’s a real pain! Coward, you’ve seen it before, haven’t you? Pay attention now. You hid—so this is what happens.”

He raised the great sword—through shield and all—high into the sky, lifting the enemy machine into the air.

“Go fly!”

“Waaaah!”

At the moment the spell activated, the pierced机体 exploded violently from within.

Shattered pieces rained down on the enemy machine, hammering it with terror.

“Now then, who’s next to blow apart?”

“Enough of your wild antics—time to stop!”

A machine suddenly shot past the barrier of Armunale. It was Batis, sword raised, slashing toward the enemy.

Instinctively, he swung both arms, meeting the blade with his own.

“Heavy. But—!”

He triggered an explosion, forcing the enemy machine away by sheer will.

Now, seeing the enemy machine again, it was a deep-green Armunale, wielding a great sword twice its height with both hands.

“I am the Second Seat of the Eight Great Knights, Shōren Tzieva Sandorcia. As the strongest swordswoman, I shall defeat you.”

“Hah, Second Seat, huh! Thought you were Eld’s prize, but looks like I’ve caught myself a real big one! Fine by me—I’ll beat you down and claim the title of strongest swordswoman myself.”

Next time…

The battle for the throne of the strongest swordswoman begins.

Meanwhile, Leon was drawing attention with his dazzling display, even while riding atop the Abnomyle.