Overheat
Though they had fled to the border zone, Karen and Netoru hadn't strayed far from the 39th Sector.
"Still no sign of them finding us?"
Netoru headed toward the 39th Sector, waiting for any possible contact from Rien. But in the end, nothing came.
Something felt off to him. Rien was a capable mage in her own right. Sure, he and Karen had slipped out of her observation range, but given the distance, she shouldn't have been completely unable to track them. On top of that, she'd been monitoring their direction right up until they shook the Bugs.
Knowing the heading made the search that much easier. By now, there should have been some word from her. Under normal circumstances, anyway.
But with this unnatural silence, only one conclusion came to mind.
Rien simply didn't have the spare capacity to use her observation magic on the two of them right now.
"Something's definitely going down...."
...Like the battles with the Bugs dragging on even at this late hour, maybe.
That was the most likely bet. The Bugs hitting the 39th Sector twice in one day had been suspicious from the start.
Karen had seemed to want reassurance, but Netoru couldn't bring himself to give it—not when he knew exactly what a second wave implied.
Bugs grew fast but burned out just as quick, treated like disposable fodder the moment they were combat-ready. That was why they swarmed in predictable patterns, like waves in a tower defense game. And ridiculously enough, that brute-force approach was plenty to overwhelm humans.
A second wave like this? It meant one of their "factories" pumping out Bugs had enough slack to turn its gaze toward the 39th Sector.
Factor in the direction those bastards had come from today, and the puzzle pieces snapped right into place.
"...Looks like the elves got breached."
Reaching that conclusion, Netoru clicked his tongue, gave up on Rien's contact, and kept moving.
Night fell, and the temperature plunged. The recent string of sweltering days kept it from biting too deep, though—the cool breeze felt downright refreshing as it cooled his sweat.
Best case, he'd bed down and wait for morning. But in pitch-black darkness where he couldn't see two feet ahead, Netoru roamed the outskirts.
Searching for a water source.
The terrain was unfamiliar since it was his first time here, but he had no choice.
How long had he wandered? Then he caught the sound of nearby water.
───Thud!Thud!
Heavy footsteps boomed out of nowhere. Netoru dropped low in a flash, then crept forward slowly on his belly toward the source.
In the inky black...
"...Those bastards."
Bugs marched in a long, orderly line—disciplined, unnatural. He couldn't make out numbers or formation in the dark, but their movement set his eyes narrowing.
Direction? Straight for the 39th Sector, no question.
Elfrandia really was in trouble, then.
Damn useless elves.
Luckily, the mystery Bugs marching through the night were well clear of Karen's Holy Knight. Still, Netoru circled the area longer before filling his canteen at the stream and heading back.
Once inside the cockpit, he rummaged through the emergency medical kit. It held basic supplies—nothing fancy.
───Squelch.
First, he soaked a cotton pad in water to wipe away the hardening scabs, then wrapped the wounds in bandages.
The treatment bandages were pre-soaked in healing potion, a big help for recovery. By morning, he'd be fine to move.
He was used to patching himself up solo, so he finished with practiced efficiency and turned his attention elsewhere.
Truth was, the real danger right now was Karen.
The whole reason he'd gone hunting for water in the dead of night was for her.
"Karen. How's the fever?"
"...Worst."
She lay atop the pilot seat with a damp towel on her forehead, murmuring in a feeble voice. She looked downright miserable now, like the composure she'd faked moments ago had all been an act.
Sweat poured off her nonstop—Netoru kept replenishing fluids, but her lips were cracking, early dehydration setting in.
"Lemme check your temp real quick."
"...Yeah."
He pressed a hand to her forehead. His brows furrowed on instinct.
Even with the wet towel cooling it, her skin burned like it could scorch him. And instead of dropping, the heat kept climbing. The cockpit air felt stifling now, like mid-battle.
This wasn't even with an active coupling link, and her body temp was spiking like this.
Backlash from excessive output...
Overheat.
Normally, post-battle left you with crushing fatigue and that was it. But push too hard with the Holy Knight coupling, and your whole body lit up like a furnace.
The mana nerve system was straining.
That must've been why she'd said morning for Holy Knight startup. She'd anticipated the Overheat hitting at night—her own body, after all.
This shape? She won't be ready by morning.
Netoru doubted a night's sleep would fix it. Trying to pilot like this? Straight to disaster.
His mind flashed through ugly scenarios. Face hardening, he clicked his tongue and popped the cockpit hatch.
Cold night air rushed in sharp, shoving out the trapped heat.
Karen, still lying there, caught the breeze on her cheek and murmured with a faint smile.
"...Thanks. Night air feels nice and cool.... Weird, the texture's different here. Like elf territory or something."
"..."
As if.
Netoru managed a wry smile. Sure, rumors said the air around the elves' vast forests had some pure quality humans lacked—but this was just the border. Miles from their heartland.
For all intents, Frangia Kingdom turf.
"...Netoru. You ever met an elf? You bounced around a bunch before our unit, right?"
"Elf?"
Her words rambled, fever-fogged. Consciousness probably slipping.
"Couple times."
"For real? They say they're all total beauties.... That true?"
"Eh, dunno about that."
"Why not? You met 'em."
"Only saw their Holy Knights."
Elfrandia bordered Frangia Kingdom. They fought Bugs too, so he'd crossed paths a few times.
But all he'd seen were the Holy Knights.
Machines, through and through.
Not the gentle fantasy-novel types he'd imagined. More like... totalitarian drones. Individuals existing for the collective.
That was the elf nation he knew.
"...Out cold?"
Old memories fading, Netoru glanced back. Her eyes were shut, body still. Just ragged breaths.
"Worse off than I thought...."
He'd seen plenty of female pilots hit Overheat. His ability made it inevitable.
Once limits broke and temps kept rising, the human body crumbled. "Wrecked pilot" meant that—worst case, brain damage. "Cooked from the inside," they called it.
Back at base, the medics had suppressants. Here? The kit's fever meds wouldn't touch it.
But he couldn't just let it ride.
"No helping it, then."
She might slap him later when she came to. Cross that bridge when he got there.
With Bugs on the move like that, they couldn't stall.
Decision made, Netoru pulled her gasping body into his arms from the seat.
"Karen."
"...Yeah?"
Still conscious, at least. Relieved, he pressed his lips to hers.
No resistance.
Or rather, she couldn't muster any. Staring into her dazed black eyes, Netoru pushed his tongue deeper.
Soon, the mana path formed.