Arc-6 Ch-09

“I want to become a machine.”

There was a time when that was all I could think about.

A battlefield, exposed to a rain of cannon fire.

An absurd order to face an overwhelmingly superior armored enemy with nothing but personal equipment.

A soldier, pierced by the bullet I fired, cursing me with his final breath.

The excruciating pain that assaults my body from a nearby explosion.

If I didn’t have a conscience or emotions, I wouldn’t have to endure this suffering.

No guilt, no pain—just a machine that emotionlessly kills its enemies.

On the battlefield, only villains and murderers survive.

The good and the sensible die quickly.

To survive, you must be ruthless, exploit the enemy’s weaknesses, and kill with precision, unshaken by emotion.

A killing machine that doesn’t fear tomorrow, that thinks only of eliminating the enemy— That’s the mark of a good soldier.

That’s why I wanted to become a machine.

I know it was just a temporary escape from reality.

I killed the enemy and survived today, but tomorrow, I might be the one killed.

Lamenting my powerless self, unable to see even an hour into the future, I escaped into fleeting fantasies—who wouldn’t?

But no matter how hard I tried to empty my heart, I could never completely erase it.

On a battlefield full of unpredictability, if I couldn’t sense anomalies, someone like me would die instantly.

There’s a limit to what one person can do, and a single careless moment—or anomaly—can mean death.

I help those in trouble because I want to survive, and in turn, they help me when I’m in trouble.

After repeating that cycle over and over, a mid-teen kid like me somehow ended up as the central figure of the unit.

“Kindness comes back to you,” as the wise words of our ancestors teach—a valuable lesson.

Humans can’t live properly without help from others.

If I were living alone in the mountains, hunting and farming, that might work. But with a wife and kids, that kind of life isn’t an option.

Humans are social creatures—perhaps not suited for solitude.

And the machines humans create are the same—they can’t fulfill their purpose without someone to operate them.

For starters, the Luxion I met in my dream was ridiculously emotional.

That guy, so desperate to capture me, was clearly getting angry and looking down on others.

Maybe the idea that machines lack emotions is just a human assumption.

And the fact that they do have intelligence and emotions—that’s what matters.

Because they have intelligence, they think. Because they have emotions, they make mistakes.

Even simple weapons malfunction. The more complex the machine, the more delicate the tuning it requires.

A perfect machine doesn’t exist, because all machines are created by imperfect humans.

There’s always a weakness to exploit somewhere.

Let’s have some fun, you piece of junk.

From here on, it’s a fight to the death between you and me.

※　※　※　※　※

I carefully check the tension of the steel wire.

For now, it seems fine, but I can’t let my guard down.

The tragedy of an ordinary guy is having to make do with whatever’s on hand.

To others, I probably look like a success story—a man who survived a brutal battlefield, became a noble, and married a beautiful wife.

In reality, my body and mind are in tatters, I was forced into an unwanted status, and I married a refined lady far above my station. Nothing in my life has gone as I planned.

If Angie had been a bad woman, it would’ve been unbearable.

All I want is to do what I’m capable of, yet I’m always saddled with problems beyond my capacity.

Stop the invasion of the Fanoss Principality’s army, govern an undeveloped floating island that was dumped on me, mediate between the Holfort Kingdom and the Redgrave Dukedom.

Give me a break, you idiots. What do you take me for?

This time is no different.

It was supposed to be a simple job—say hello to this thing sleeping in the ruins and head home. But instead, I’m being chased by a terrifying mechanical puppet the size of an armored suit.

I’m done. I just want to go home and sleep this off.

But to get home, I have to defeat this thing—an impossible task.

So here I am, preparing to take down this giant single-handedly, an ultra-high-difficulty mission, while running around.

I hate the king, and I hate the gods. If I see that Luxion from my dream again, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.

Even while grumbling, I feel oddly calm.

Part of it is because the giant’s goal isn’t to kill me, but to capture me.

But the bigger reason is its obvious lack of combat experience, apparent in every movement.

Its attack method is punching—crude, brute-force strikes.

Its aim is sloppy, its movements linear. Getting hit would be bad, sure, but predicting and dodging its trajectory isn’t that hard.

The Luxion from my nightmare said its main body was a lost-item ship.

A battleship capable of wiping out the entire Holfort Kingdom’s military single-handedly.

To it, enemy ships are probably like toys, easily swept aside by sloppy cannon fire.

On top of that, on my way to the hangar, I saw the bodies of what seemed to be adventurers who made it to this floating island—but not a single corpse inside the hangar itself.

Based on its words, no adventurer has ever reached this hangar, which means I’m probably its first real combat experience.

It’s like putting an airship helmsman into an armored suit and expecting them to fight well—it doesn’t work.

Meanwhile, during the war, I held off armored suits with nothing but personal equipment and cannons. After becoming a noble, I fought multiple battles in suits.

I even teamed up with the Holfort Kingdom’s greatest hero during a kidnapping incident, and fought a one-on-one duel against His Highness Julius—even if it was with mass-produced suits.

Is this giant stronger than the Fanoss Principality’s armored suits?

Stronger than the suits piloted by sky pirates or fallen knights that Greg and Jilk took down so easily?

A tougher opponent than the mass-produced suit piloted by His Highness Julius?

No. Absolutely not.

Of course, beating it bare-handed is impossible.

Having crossed the line of death multiple times and carrying actual weapons, it’s definitely a tough opponent.

But with careful planning and a well-laid trap, it’s not unbeatable.

Our foundations in combat are completely different. I’ll outsmart it fair and square.

After finishing the final check on the trap, I review my gear.

Small handgun, regular bullet magazines.

Large handgun, regular bullet magazines, magic bullet magazines.

Rifle, regular bullet magazines, fire magic bullet magazines, lightning magic bullet magazines.

Regular bombs, fire magic bombs, lightning magic bombs, smoke grenades.

And a bit of steel wire, tape, and a telescope.

I check everything meticulously, distracting myself from my anxiety, and pack it into my backpack.

No matter how much information I gather, no matter how carefully I prepare, unexpected situations always arise.

To calm my fear, I tell myself, That giant is a novice at fighting, while staying wary of potential unknown weapons.

The human heart is complex and strange. You can’t stay sane in war.

I’ll only come back here if the plan succeeds. If it fails, I’ll end up as that thing’s specimen.

I close my eyes to steady my heart, and the faces of my family flicker through my mind, one by one.

I fuel the fire in my chest with thoughts of those I want to protect, and turn it into resolve.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Let’s do this.”

It isn’t for anyone else—I’m rousing my own heart to stand.

I’ve done everything I can. Now I’ll trust in the story from that other world—that another me really did defeat this monster.

This is an arena with just me and that thing.

Two fighters, one victor.

I climb onto a decayed airship and scan for the giant’s location.

I don’t know how it works, but the giant floats through the air as it moves.

Because of that, it makes no footsteps, making sound-tracking nearly impossible.

If I got close enough, I’d probably smell the burnt metal coming off its body—but getting that close would put me in its attack range.

Maybe I could dodge with quick movements, but eliminating all risk is impossible.

One punch from that thing would end everything. The key to winning is to stay in a position where its attacks miss while mine land.

I mentally map the hangar while confirming the giant’s location.

Predicting its route, I move silently to intercept.

I ready my rifle and hide in the shadows between airships. The giant rounds a corner, passing right by me.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds.

Just before it reaches the next corner, I steel myself and step from the shadows.

I roll a smoke grenade at its feet and fire the rifle twice.

TANG! CLACK! TANG!

The first shot hits, the second misses.

My sniping skills aren’t great. Hitting a moving target with even one shot is good enough for me.

The giant, reacting to the attack, charges toward me, but the corridor is already filled with smoke from the grenade.

I deliberately make noise with my footsteps as I run, then duck into a nearby crevice.

The giant’s sheer size makes it clumsy, and its cautious movements to avoid damaging the facility slow it down even more.

I desperately control my breathing to avoid detection, waiting for it to pass.

“Your resistance is futile. I recommend immediate surrender.”

The giant, now positioned slightly away from the corridor, urges me to give up—its voice booming even louder than before.

Out here, there’s no cover. It’s a sniper’s dream.

But it’s obviously a trap.

Unlike a human, who’d die from a single bullet, bringing down this giant requires relentless strikes with magic bullets or bombs. Even if a shot lands, it endures easily, and I know it’s just waiting to trace the direction and force of my attack, then counter.

That thing is a machine. If it wanted, it could wait me out for days without rest.

Me? Three days without water, five without food—that’s all it would take to finish me.

The gap between humans and machines is laughably pathetic. If this drags into a war of attrition, I have no chance.

It’s a solid tactic on its part. Lure the prey, endure the damage, and grind them down—that’s something I myself often used during the war.

But only if you don’t care about your surroundings.

I turn my back on the giant and walk toward the wreckage of a rotting airship far off in the hangar.

From my pouch, I pull out a fire magic bomb, flip off the safety, wind up, and hurl it.

The bomb slips into a crack in the ship’s hull. Seconds later—

BOOOOOM!!

The blast rocks the area, raining fragments of steel hull in all directions.

…Maybe I overdid it.

The thought flickers, but I push it aside.

This is war. To survive, I have to desecrate whatever the enemy clings to. If I hesitate, I die.

Against an opponent like this, restraint is suicide. My willingness to do whatever they hate most—that’s probably why people brand me a villainous knight.

I slot a lightning magic bullet into my rifle and crouch in the shadows. With the chaos of the explosion, its sensors should have trouble picking me up.

After a moment, the giant trudges to the wreckage.

“…”

It just stands there, staring at the destroyed airship. From behind, it almost looks… angry. Maybe even grieving.

A pang of guilt stirs—but I’m not generous enough to let an enemy drop its guard in front of me.

TANG! ZZZAP!

Caught off guard, its barrier fails to rise in time. The shot lands, purple lightning searing across its body. While it spasms, I draw my heavy handgun, aim at its head, and pull the trigger again and again.

CLANG!! BANG!! BAM!!

Regular bullets slip past the barrier more easily. The giant flails, raising its arms to shield its head, swatting at me like an insect.

Even so, the rounds dig in—it can’t fully block them.

Its massive arms guard its skull, but its eyes still peer at me through the gaps.

Watching me. Always watching.

The sheer fact pisses me off.

“Stop this. Do you even understand what you’re doing?”

“I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t you dare tell me to stop.”

“What you destroyed was a vessel crafted by the Old Humans. My analysis indicates it is beyond the forging capabilities of the New Humans. You are eroding irreplaceable knowledge and prolonging suffering. I demand you cease.”

“No way.”

I toss a live bomb at its feet and bolt.

It raises its barrier—but that shield, while effective against magic bullets and bombs, can’t nullify conventional explosives.

And if it braces for a blast that turns out to be smoke? It loses its chance to catch me.

The more options I give, the more hesitation it suffers. I learned that lesson too many times in war.

Another explosion rumbles behind me, but I don’t look back.

This hangar’s cover is a blessing. In a tight airship corridor, both the blast and the lack of hiding places would’ve crushed me.

For now, I’ll keep gnawing at it.

Every strike sets its expectations, every feint teaches it the wrong lesson—all building toward the trap.

But that doesn’t mean I’ll hold back.

If anything, I need to hit harder. To mask the setup, I have to look desperate.

I take aim from cover, rifle pressed to my shoulder.

Each trigger squeeze sharpens my nerves.

TANG! CLANG!

The bullets ping harmlessly. At this range, my mediocre sniping skills don’t help.

Magic bullets could pierce, but with my limited stock, wasting one would be fatal.

Time to relocate before it finds this nest.

I eject the casing, pocket it, and move.

At the corridor’s exit, I scatter some empties—breadcrumbs for it to find.

Through my scope, I watch. As expected, the giant reaches my last spot within half a minute.

Each exchange hones its movement. Each shot I fire makes its pursuit sharper, its guesses closer.

Part of it is me steering it into the snare. But the other part—the sheer speed of its learning—is terrifying.

It’s mapping the hangar, predicting my nests, closing in.

If I let this drag out, I’ll be the one cornered.

That means it’s time.

I hurry to the narrow corridor—the straight path leading into an open space. Just wide enough for its bulk to squeeze through. Perfect.

The tighter the corridor, the less time I’ll need to aim.

I’ll unload everything—magic bullets, bombs—keeping only bare reserves.

TANG! TANG!

The second its silhouette fills the corridor, I open fire.

WHOOSH… WHOOM!

The heat and lightning vanish on impact, nullified by the barrier. My bullets clatter harmlessly to the floor.

That shield is obscene.

“It seems you are out of options. Choosing a confined corridor and persisting with ineffective attacks shows poor judgment.”

“Shut up!”

I reload, fire again. Same useless result.

It doesn’t chase me. Slow, deliberate steps. Barrier steady. Is it wary of my trap? Or just toying with me?

“There is no need for despair. With crude gear and a body weaker than a common security drone, you have fought well. By barbaric New Human standards, you are extraordinary.”

“That’s not a compliment! Don’t make it sound like one!!”

“Nevertheless, I confirm: even degraded New Humans are dangerous. Surrender and provide information.”

“Keep talking nonsense!”

I retreat, mixing my attacks—magic and regular, bombs and bullets—keeping it off balance.

To it, I must look desperate. Truth is, I am at my limit.

But if it thinks I’m unfair, it can ignore me.

“Well, you’re not wrong. I only became a noble because I was good at killing. I can’t deny it. I’ve lost count of how many soldiers from the Fanoss Principality I’ve cut down. Back in the Holfort Kingdom—”

“Fanoss Principality… Holfort Kingdom… Neither appears in my database. Presumably states founded by New Humans.”

“I killed generals to earn my rank. Erased entire units to climb the ladder. Advanced by stacking corpses—enemies and allies both. That’s me. The Grim Reaper.”

“A fitting role for New Humans, whose only gift is slaughtering their own.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m a murderous upstart. I won’t deny it.”

My rifle barks, my feet drag me back, sweat soaking through under the crushing strain.

I’m sick of my own talent—not excelling in one thing, but being cursed to handle every ugly task too well.

“But it’s still a better way to live than holing yourself up at home and refusing to mourn your fallen comrades.”

"……I do not understand the intent of your statement."

“I’m talking about you, you useless hunk of junk.”

The giant machine stopped moving completely at my words, and I too halted my attack to match.

The air between us was so tense it almost burned against my skin.

"I do not understand your statement. I demand a correction to your accusation that I have insulted the Old Humanity."

“If you don’t want to admit it, that’s fine. But that doesn’t change the facts.”

Even when it got angry at what I said, it never avoided the conversation itself.

Maybe it was gathering information… or maybe it was simply reacting to the long solitude it had endured.

I doubted it was just a chatterbox.

But one thing was certain—this was clearly its weak point.

“I’ve fought through many battlefields. I’ve lost my share of comrades and subordinates, not as many as the people I’ve killed, but enough. Leaving a comrade’s body behind is a matter of honor—and there’s always the chance it could be desecrated by the enemy. So I buried who I could. Not all of them, though. There were many I had to leave behind with tears in my eyes… and even when I went back later, I couldn’t find them again.”

"Funerary rites are conducted solely from religious or moral standpoints. They exist primarily to ease the grief of the bereaved, not for the deceased themselves. Unless the existence of souls or an afterlife can be proven, such acts are merely psychological care."

“I see. So you’re an atheist, huh?”

" I am merely stating facts."

“Then answer me this—why have you left the bodies of your comrades here in this ruin?”

I’d seen countless corpses on this floating island. They could be divided into two groups.

One group seemed to be adventurers or poor souls who had wandered here by mistake. Their bodies were mangled, likely by humanoid attackers, and left where they fell.

The other group seemed to be Old Humans—those who had once lived in this facility. Their remains were also left as they had died, though less damaged. That was probably just because they had been indoors, protected from the rain, so the bodies decayed slower.

Some corpses were even entwined with the plants that had overgrown the place.

Either way, the fact remained the same—they had all been abandoned for years.

“You’ve been sneering at New Humanity while worshiping the Old, but for all that, you sure treat their corpses like garbage. There’s not a single sign anyone’s tried to bury or even manage them. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about their condition?”

"Once biological activity ceases, a body is nothing more than an object. Your sentimentality stems from your narrow, religiously biased view of life and death."

“Fine, believe that if you want. But deep down, you’ve noticed it, haven’t you?”

"Noticed what?"

“You’re not half as loyal to your master as you think you are.”

The giant raised its fist and swung down at me.

I fired my gun in response while pulling the safety pin from a smoke grenade and tossing it to the floor.

In an instant, the narrow corridor filled with thick smoke, hiding the giant from view.

I kept firing while reloading and ejecting casings in rhythm. In this smoke, neither of us could aim properly, but in such a tight passage, stray shots were bound to hit something that big.

The giant, unable to see where I was, slammed its fists randomly into the floor.

It must have been infuriated, being provoked and unable to hit me back.

“You’ve been hiding in this musty hangar for hundreds—maybe thousands—of years, doing nothing. Not burying your comrades, not even trying to find a new master. Just festering in your grudge against New Humanity. You’re useless. You’re not nearly as great or strong as you think.”

"…Silence."

“Even a dog that keeps waiting for its dead master has more loyalty than you. At least it earns sympathy when someone finally notices it.”

"…Silence."

“Oh? Did I strike a nerve, you pile of scrap? Big body, bigger ego.”

"LEON FOE BARTFORT!!"

Well, what do you know—so it actually remembered my name.

Guess I’ve been recognized not as just another New Human, but as a person.

"If you take advantage of my restraint to continue such provocations, I will interpret this as a declaration of war. From this moment, I am escalating my operational level. Even if I kill you, it will be a lawful act of defense under this facility’s security parameters, and not a deviation in my behavioral protocols."

“Less talk, more action, you useless heap.”

I pulled out my compact handgun and emptied the magazine.

It wouldn’t hurt the giant, but it made a fine taunt.

At the same time, I grabbed a few more smoke grenades and sprinted at full speed.

Driven by rage, the giant now moved faster than ever, thundering after me.

Right now, all that mattered was reaching the open area ahead.

The moment I burst into the wider space, I pulled the pins from the smoke grenades and hurled them in all directions.

Unlike the corridor, the smoke didn’t fill the air completely, but a moment’s obscurity was all I needed.

This was near the center of the hangar—a crossroads where several corridors converged.

Without hesitation, I bolted toward the passage leading to my destination.

Just as I started running again, the giant reached the area behind me, but the haze hid me from sight.

Once I’d put some distance between us, I discreetly dropped an empty shell casing from my pocket onto the floor.

Clink—… …tink.

A faint metallic echo rang out.

A few seconds later, the giant turned toward it.

From its perspective, it must have looked like I’d tried—and failed—to snipe from the smoke.

That’s the pattern I’d been repeating over and over: shoot from afar, retreat, shoot again.

Like a cornered animal making one last mistake, just waiting to be finished.

Thinking that, the giant advanced toward me.

I pretended to be exhausted, slowing my pace.

When I neared the next junction, I tossed more smoke grenades—mixing in a few standard and magic bombs for good measure.

Playing the part of the hunted prey, I led it toward my chosen killing ground.

When I finally reached the spot, I leapt with all my strength and hurled another grenade behind me.

My upper body tensed as I held my stance. Smoke drifted around waist height, leaving me clearly visible to the giant behind me.

To it, this looked like the moment I’d failed to hide and decided to make my final stand.

I made sure to play along—loaded my remaining magic rounds, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

BANG—clack.

The magic bullet fizzled out against its barrier and dropped to the floor, hidden by the haze.

Two hundred steps between me and the giant.

It advanced slowly, barrier shimmering, wary of my bombs and spells.

One hundred steps left.

I switched to regular ammo and fired in bursts, aiming for its head.

Fifty steps.

The instant it crossed that mark, I dove behind a massive iron container beside me.

SCREEEEEEE—ping!

A harsh metallic scrape followed by a sharp popping sound.

I hit the floor, facedown, covering my ears and opening my mouth to brace for the pressure.

Only a few seconds passed, but it felt like an eternity.

DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

Shockwaves.

Vibrations.

Thunder.

Heat.

In that moment, an enormous force with nowhere to go tore through the corridor, devouring everything in its path.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

Battle with Luxion — middle section.

It ended up longer than expected.

The vile knight Leon, provoking his foe just to win—still, I can’t quite capture the same level of cruelty as in the original.

Without his cheat abilities or Luxion, all he can do is chip away and wait for an opening—nothing like the exhilaration of the Pierre fight.

I’ll have to keep refining it.

Next time, the fight with Luxion reaches its conclusion.

Postscript:

By the client’s request, illustrations were drawn by m.a.o and Bomkkachi. My thanks to both artists.

m.a.o: Pixiv

Bomkkachi: Pixiv

I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback—they’ll be a great motivation for future work.