Partner Swapping Revolution Era
The Partner Swapping Revolution Era. It was a time of unprecedented civil war. Nobles and commoners in the kingdom had been at each other's throats, spilling rivers of blood, and it was in that very gap that the bugs invaded out of nowhere. An age when conflicts reached their peak. A war against otherworldly monsters that began without any preparation. In such a tangled web of chaos, finding someone without a backstory was the real challenge. So this woman must have one too.
Netoru quietly gazed at Seres's back. Her beautiful purple hair, something impossible to see in the real world, cascaded down her spine. The lines of her body peeking through that light purple hair reaching her waist were stunning. Her voluptuous figure, unique to her pale skin and absent in the younger unit members, exuded an elegance that felt more refined than lewdly sexual. She had all the elements men would love. The archetype of a kind, curvaceous older woman, perhaps. If this world were even a bit more ordinary, she would've been adored by men. Or if the genre were different, she might've played the sweet big-sis role somewhere. But what could you do? The worldview of her current world was what it was.
In a place like this, digging into everyone's backstory would make life far too messy. So Netoru had little interest in what Seres had been through. But leaving her alone felt like a waste. A woman's body trained from childhood like Seres's was incredibly valuable. In this world, a good woman meant a good Holy Knight. Bluntly put, Seres was a high-performance machine for combat. That's why Netoru planned to thoroughly "research" this premium chassis through coupling from now on—to map out the mana nerve system inside her, its structure, strengths, and weaknesses.
Up until now, Netoru had switched partners frequently amid all sorts of nasty rumors for exactly this kind of research. It was the pinnacle of his ability, one only he could achieve: interfering with female pilots' mana nerve systems, all to survive somehow. Male pilots had limits to how strong they could get, so female pilots needed to grow stronger. That's why Netoru had long studied female pilots' mana nerve systems. Being able to artificially interfere meant he could artificially twist their structures too.
Moreover, unless they'd been specially trained from childhood in a knight order like Seres, most female pilots' mana nerve systems had innate limitations. The flaws of mass-produced models churned out by the institutions. To surpass those birth defects, someone had to rebuild the structure from the ground up artificially.
...The only issue was who to try it on first. Only one person came to mind.
Having sorted his thoughts, Netoru stared at Seres's back again. Even now, mana was steadily being drawn out through the mana path formed via the control stick in his hand. Pretty greedy. He checked the Holy Knight's output. 500.... 1000... 1500.... 2000.... Naturally, as Seres pulled more mana, the Knight's max output climbed just as fast. But something felt off. The limit output was rising in clear, stepwise patterns anyone could see. It was almost like it was whispering, How far can you keep up?
So she's testing me, huh?
...Been a while since I've seen this. He'd expected it, but it was amusing. Lately, he'd only tested his abilities on others; being tested himself was rare. Back in the early days, it happened often as a prank. But did she know? He was deliberately playing along with her plan.
Netoru had intentionally handed control of the mana path to Seres. He was curious how high she could push the output on her own. It was just another form of observation for his research. The simplest way to gauge a female pilot's ability was the Holy Knight's output. In tense combat, the Knight needed freedom of movement—able to stop on a dime or go full throttle anytime. Just like a human body in real battle.
Right now, Netoru was checking two things from Seres: the Knight's max instantaneous output with no delay—limit output—and the fuel efficiency to sustain higher output.
He'd already roughly assessed her efficiency. As expected from her hefty frame, Seres's Holy Knight guzzled mana. It felt like piloting a knight in heavy plate armor. Powerful, but not built for long hauls. Compared to Karen's Knight, which could fight for an hour on the same mana, Seres's wouldn't last half that.
It was almost ridiculous at this point. What the hell had that kid Takuya been doing all this time? Seres had probably throttled her own limit output way down for him. Lower limits meant better efficiency. Sure, it'd make her move sluggishly like her bulky exterior suggested... but then the kid had been fighting in sturdy but heavy armor all along. Laughable.
As he chuckled at the image, Seres—sharp as ever—glanced back right on cue.
"……"
"……"
Their eyes met: her pale purple irises and his. Netoru didn't hide his smile, staring her down as he spoke.
"...As expected, efficiency's kinda shit, but this is passable, I guess."
Netoru saw no point dragging this out longer. He didn't care what Seres thought; he wanted to learn more about her body.
"Seres. How long you gonna keep playing kid games with the output? I handed you the mana path on purpose, but this is getting frustrating."
"What do you... Kyaa!?"
The boring male-female power struggle was over. As he seized control of the mana path, Seres let out a cute yelp, but he brushed it off. Trained in the Saint Mishar Knight Order—the royal family's sword, no less. Her internal mana nerve system had to be top-tier, rare quality. All those arrogant royals and nobles hoarded their secret arts, wrapped tight, and they were sealed inside her.
So just how high could Seres push the output? Maybe even to that realm—one mass-produced types could never reach. It'd be weirder if a royal knight order graduate couldn't.
To test it, Netoru reclaimed control and kept expanding the mana path linking them, relentlessly pumping in mana.
"Wh-what... Suddenly, what are you—!"
Caught off-guard by the torrent crashing in like rapids, Seres's eyes widened as her body twisted. But she didn't sever the path. She knew what that would do. So she endured, taking it all in. But Netoru was pouring faster than her mana nerve system could process.
"Ughhh! St-stop! Kyaaa!"
Unable to hold back, a pained scream escaped Seres's lips. Drool trailed from her pretty pink lips, her elegant hair now a tangled mess down her back. Her pale face flushed red, morphing into the agonized expression of a woman enduring torment.
Raising a Holy Knight's output normally hinged on male-female breathing sync. Meaningless here. Netoru dominated unilaterally, ramping it up. Unlike Seres's gradual steps, he offered no such courtesy. Partly because her testing irked him, but deep down, her body was so incredible he couldn't hold back his impulses.
"Ughhh! Nngh! Hnngh!"
Even as she moaned, the mana nerve system near her uterus greedily devoured every drop without waste. ...Damn, what a body. Beyond even Netoru's expectations. Normal female pilots couldn't handle mana shoved in like this. Processing speed was one issue, but each had mana path limits. No point cramming if the channel was too narrow.
Seres's path, though, was greedily widening, sucking it all in deep.
"...Stop! Hic!"
But interestingly, it wasn't fully open yet. Shrunken from disuse, perhaps. Proof positive: no male pilot in the 393rd had properly tapped her mana nerve system. No wonder the path was tight. Didn't matter. If it was narrow, he'd widen it. Not building new paths—just clearing the old ones.
Too rough, though, and it'd break. She needed time to adjust. So, giving her a breather, Netoru paused the output climb and spoke.
"Seres. What was your original partner like back in the Saint Mishar Knight Order?"
"Haa... Haa..."
No answer. Just ragged breaths. She'd collapsed onto the cockpit seat. The cockpit felt warmer from her heaving. Her pale skin glowed a healthy pink.
"Whoever he was, seems he was pretty pampered by his partner? Path this expanded doesn't lie."
"...Bullshit. What do you even know."
A response this time. Seres gripped her fists from the seat, turning with eyes sharp as a drawn blade. She muttered bitterly.
"Th-that bastard..."
"That bastard?"
Interesting. What kind of guy was he? As he locked eyes to probe, her sharp gaze softened, her pupils trembling. Her hard-won breathing grew ragged again. She looked away first, voice cracking.
"...Please stop here. I was wrong."
"……"
What the hell? Netoru blinked at the sudden shift. Surrender out of nowhere? Seres hung her head, momentum gone. Tears welled in her eyes. Her dim purple irises looked lifeless, lips quivering despite her clenched jaw. Like he'd touched a raw trauma, she trembled fragilely—like a bellflower quaking in fear atop a flowerbed.
A heavy silence filled the cockpit. Netoru frowned.
"……"
Shit. Pushed too hard? Tight-knit unit like this, her bawling and storming out would be a mess. Now what?
Comfort her? As that thought crossed his mind—
Rien's voice cut in at the worst timing. Looking over, data had linked up via the feed—familiar red dots popping on the map.
...Bugs spotted, huh.
Rien, hesitant as if pondering, spoke after a pause.