God of the Battlefield #7

It looked like an ancient iron tower assembled into the shape of a man. Towering to a height rivaling Libertas. A colossal humanoid silhouette formed from tangled steel and copper wires, rusted gears, and interlocking frames.

The mechanical body bore the marks of time's relentless passage—patches of corrosion everywhere, scars from intense heat that had melted the metal in places.

Its arms and legs connected via hydraulic joints, emitting metallic screeches of clank and screeech with every movement.

The most grotesque feature was its head. In place of a human skull sat two massive sirens, like battered old loudspeakers mounted directly atop its neckless torso, free to swivel in any direction. Their interiors brimmed with a thick, viscous darkness, and somewhere deep inside, a metallic vibration writhed.

Between the pair of sirens hung a single red camera eye, pulsing endlessly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in contraction and expansion.

Another giant summoned from the corpse of a dead, ancient world: [Machinery Alarm - Siren Tower].

"Rank 5!"

"Hmm, so when the deck thins out, Libertas shows ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up... and when Soul Points drop, Siren Tower emerges. Lost World must be a zone hyper-sensitive to its master's peril."

"Or you could call it an effect that demands self-harm for active use..."

"Nah, that's a stretch."

"Newbie, huh? How many zone effects has this guy dropped already?"

"Eek~ That sound is creepy~."

The students shuddered at the monstrosity's eerie form and noise, murmuring in awe.

"Siren Tower can only be summoned via Lost World's effect, and it can't attack until the end of the summon turn. But it has a special ability."

"...Special ability?"

"As long as this creature exists, your Zones and magic circles are negated during my turn."

"...!!"

Save for its lack of suppression against wizard-type creatures, it was practically a superior version of Position Slasher! Maximilian gasped silently.

Any trump cards he'd set up were now useless...

"My turn, then."

Beep— Beep— Beep—.

Siren Tower's wail set the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very air trembling. It started low and drawn-out, like wind from afar, then twisted upward in pitch. Harsh metallic distortion, like from an ancient loudspeaker, mingled with bizarre tones that evoked human screams.

Before this grotesque beast, red eyes gleaming with blood-chilling menace, Ricardo drew his card and pressed on with his turn.

"I activate Rusty Factory's effect. Paying 12 Factory Gauge to summon four Vision creatures: Lost Soldiers!"

Screeech— Thud! Screeech— Thud! Screeeeech...

Roars echoed from the factory district's maw, spewing four mechanical soldiers.

Its effect triggered. Magic embedded in the Battle Table flicked coins endlessly.

"What I've fetched is Machinery Scout King - Little David!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

One soldier scouting Lost World's ruins thrust its hand skyward.

"I tribute two Lost Soldiers to summon Machinery Scout King - Little David!"

Rumble... Flash!

The two soldiers crumbled into wreckage. Beneath, a red glow flickered ominously.

"H-Huge!"

"Where's the 'little' in that!?"

Its body a chaotic tangle of machinery and wires, with a long neck and tail evoking a sauropod. Most striking was the heavy, resonant breathing from its massive frame—like a living engine's throb, exuding overwhelming pressure by mere presence.

A red camera eye atop its lofty head gazed down mockingly at Maximilian's knights, as if to teach what a true God of the Battlefield looked like.

A fresh Rank 4 elite creature.

But no dragon.

"Th-This...!"

Maximilian chewed on surging humiliation, his face paling in defeat as he stepped back. He scanned his hand desperately—no salvation there.

His aces were neutralized by Siren Tower before activation.

Only defeat remained.

"Th-This can't... be."

The old Maximilian would have feigned composure, humbly conceding while plotting revenge, honoring his foe in pretense.

But not now. His OCD left even stray hair unkempt. Siren Tower and Little David's aura shattered his calm.

"Battle! Attack with Machinery Scout King - Little David!"

Little David reared its head back. Its jaw and neck detached, revealing a massive cannon barrel. Wider than even Gustav Dora's bore.

"Cloud Maker!!"

BOOOOOOM!!!!

Thunderous roar as the cannon unleashed a colossal bomb. Recoil shook the field like an earthquake, but Little David's sturdy legs absorbed it effortlessly.

Cloud Maker arced skyward then plummeted like a god's iron mace.

No knight, however mighty, could stand before it—mere relics to be buried in history.

The god of the battlefield was no knight.

KABOOOOOM──────!!!

"Gaaaaahhhh───!!"

Maximilian's pathetic wail cut off just before the bombing orchestra crescendoed. For that fleeting moment, students etched his wretched form into memory.

Not the noble heir, but the loser's.

Dust clouds billowed from the blast. As the ear-splitting roar left ears ringing and minds blank, Professor Georgia spoke.

"Duel over. Winner: Ricardo."

The Battle Table powered down. Little David's victory roar faded like mist in morning sun.

"Ngh... Urk..."

Maximilian staggered off the table, stewing in defeat. A sweet fragrance approached.

Princess Daphne.

"P-Princess Daphne..."

"Well fought, Lord Spinola. You look exhausted—go rest."

Her voice was as ever: soft as a feather tickling the ear, clear and gentle. But her purple eyes were ice-cold—blunt even to the flustered Maximilian.

"W-Wait, Your Highness. Something's wrong here."

He sputtered in frenzy. Loss of his petty scheme, defeat's sting, duel-born terror—all stripped his cool facade.

"Negating all Zones and magic circles? Ridiculous... And those grotesque creatures prove Ricardo Bardi is—"

"Now, now."

Daphne cut his ravings sharply. No audience now, with eyes on Ricardo—but more blather would tarnish Lilucania's image.

"You really do look worn out, Lord Spinola."

"Y-Your Highness...!"

"As I said, go rest. No need for an escort, right?"

Dismiss yourself before I call guards.

Her fleeting mana pressure broke him. He fled the hall like a chased dog.

Most pathetic: no one here cared anymore.

"Hm."

Daphne smiled faintly, satisfied the pest was gone. Dabbing sweat with a handkerchief, she approached Ricardo.

She'd checked Maximilian first to preempt nonsense—and as royalty, to show care for her nobles. Zero fondness for him personally.

"Here—take this."

"...Professor, what's this?"

Amid it all, Ricardo received something from Professor Beltum: a milky-glowing orb, pearl-like save its fist-sized bulk.

"Mind Orb. It'll—ease duel fatigue."

But. Beltum paused, face grave.

"Like an awakener. Borrows future mental strength. Giving it now—party's peak. Don't rely on it."

"Ah, yes. Understood."

"Promise no dependence—then I'll give."

"I promise. Thank you."

"Good. Swallow and dissolve. See you next—. Professor Georgia?"

Beltum nodded slowly, rolling huge eyes at Georgia.

"Yes, Professor Beltum."

"Enjoy the party?"

"Nah. Just tiring here. Other profs got it—I can skip."

Georgia deftly caught the hint.

"Then—let's go."

"Yes. Bardi, rest well this weekend."

"Yes, Professor Georgia."

The professors departed. Students surged in like tide, faces flushed.

"Good work~ Ricardo~."

"Mm, another educational duel today."

"Hahaha! That's the man who beat me!"

"Splendid duel, Lord Bardi."

"Eek!"

"Th-That was amazing, Lord Bardi!"

"I agree! Oh, I'm from the Iberica County house..."

"M-Me too, talk to me..."

"Excuse me."

"Ow, who... Ahh! Princess Daphne!?"

Daphne brushed them aside, beaming radiantly up close.

"Impressive duel, Lord Bardi."

"Ah, thank you, Princess Daphne."

Her lips curved slyly.

"A talent like you in the student council? It'd be most satisfying."

Sparks flew from Alessia's eyes.