The Desert's Absolute Sovereign
Aron Dyke furrowed his brow. “What the hell is this?”
He couldn’t understand that commoner at all. Their backgrounds were fundamentally different from birth. He’d probably call that kind of behavior “sudden acceleration” in his crude way of speaking. In the end, the guy was just the type who only ever said what he wanted. It didn’t matter. The desert was Aron Dyke’s domain.
“Icarus. Let’s go.”
“Activating.”
The moment the artificial intelligence answered, Aron Dyke’s Titan, Icarus, began to stride forward. Aron never let his guard down against an opponent. On any battlefield, he had never once been careless. It was because he wasn’t a natural genius. Because he didn’t believe the words “natural genius” applied to him.
His opponent was called a natural genius who had overcome the limits of his birth. Aron had seen that video showing movements that should have been impossible. It had even shocked him a little. However, the only Titans he had ever actually piloted were high-mobility types. That was his weakness.
The desert was the worst possible environment for operating a high-mobility Titan. Feet sank into the sand, and maintaining hover with insufficient generator output was incredibly difficult. On the other hand, Icarus had been built specifically for the desert. Its massive generator output maximized hover duration, and its feet had been widened to prevent sinking into the sand. It was equipped with long-range bombardment weaponry as well as sufficient armaments for close-quarters combat. When limited to desert terrain, Icarus was a flawless all-purpose machine.
Icarus moved slowly. He had seen it before. Deep’s strategy was to charge the opponent the instant battle began. If he had used the same tactic here in the desert, his feet would inevitably get stuck.
“Sensor readings?”
“Sensors are malfunctioning due to sand interference. Visual observation is recommended.”
Because of the long war, most of the continent had turned into deserts mixed with heavy metals. Sandstorms constantly disrupted sensors. But it was something that could be overcome with experience.
“Yeah. I see him.”
The enemy Titan finally became visible through the swirling sand. As expected, its feet were nowhere to be seen—probably buried in the sand.
“So he really did get stuck while running.”
He stopped both feet and aligned the shoulder-mounted artillery forward. There was no need to close the distance.
“This battlefield was too advantageous for me. I suppose I’ll have to accept if he asks for a rematch next time.”
“Is this noblesse oblige?”
“Obviously.”
BOOM!
The shell fired. The sand that erupted instantly blocked his vision. He couldn’t confirm a direct hit, but there was no way it had missed. Aron Dyke believed that for about three seconds.
“Why hasn’t the simulation ended?”
A mechanical sound. At the same time, the gun barrel was completely shattered.
“Ugh, I really hate this ugly body.”
“Ah, um, sorry about that.”
“It doesn’t even have arms or legs. What the hell is this?”
“I’m really, really sorry. I won’t use it again after this.”
There were all kinds of builds in Titan Core. For example, an extreme time-limit build. A standard match in Titan Core lasted fifteen minutes. If the battle didn’t end within fifteen minutes, the winner was decided by calculating remaining armor. That was where the split happened—between people who conserved as much armor as possible over fifteen minutes to slowly chip away at their opponent, and people who tried to destroy the opponent in the shortest time possible to move on to the next match.
Deep was the latter. The machine he had come up with for that purpose was a Titan that could only fight for three minutes. An ultra-lightweight frame stuffed with a massive generator, with both arms and even the feet removed for further weight reduction. No long-range weapons were equipped at all; it only used a close-combat greatsword fixed to the torso since it had no arms. For those three minutes, the Titan could maintain uninterrupted hovering and achieve absurd mobility. After three minutes, the generator would overload and shut down, but that was the end of it.
He had never imagined he would actually use a machine like this in this world. This world was at war. War wasn’t fought alone. You would encounter countless enemies on the battlefield at once, and in such a place, a Titan that could only move for three minutes was useless.
But simulations were different. A limited situation. A single limited opponent. Limited time and a limited location. It was exactly like the game Titan Core.
People who had experienced real battlefields could never react properly when faced with a Titan that would never be used in actual combat. Just like Aron Dyke right now, staring at his shattered gun barrel.
How had Professor Zeke figured out this machine the moment he saw it?
“What—what the hell is this?!”
A short-range comms channel connected through the rising sand. Using the repulsive force from the hover thrusters, the Titan spun once around Icarus. The exploding sand created a storm that completely blocked vision.
“What the hell is it?!”
Clack!
“Deep, he’s gonna spray!”
I already know. That sound earlier was him deploying a standard automatic rifle. This Titan had minimized even its armor for extreme weight reduction. I couldn’t allow even a single hit.
The solution was surprisingly simple. I just had to dodge in a way he couldn’t possibly imagine.
“Ailee, calculate the gyroscope!”
“Already on it!”
I tilted the Titan’s body so far it looked like it would fall over immediately. Just barely—only enough that it truly wouldn’t fall.
RATATATATATATATA!
The bullets grazed just above its head. Not a single one hit. And I had never intended to let even one hit in the first place. That was exactly why I had built this machine I hated so much.
The thrusters spat a short burst of flame. The hovering Titan shot forward like a bullet. One of Icarus’s ankles was cleanly severed. Its body began to collapse.
“From below?!”
The moment Icarus tried to hover again, its body instead fell even faster. It was only natural after losing one leg and its center of gravity. I had no intention of letting it stay that way.
“Don’t get comfortable!”
CLANG!
I kicked the falling machine back upright with my leg.
“Where the hell is there a Titan that does roundhouse kicks?!”
I didn’t answer. I already knew. I had fought the Dyke ducal family’s Titans countless times. Close combat using hovering in desert environments. Blinding the opponent with sand, then finishing with long-range sniping and bombardment. This ultra-short decisive battle Titan was something I had created out of sheer disgust for that merciless strategy.
If anything, it was the most extreme modification possible of the Dyke ducal family’s Titan.
My Titan was still moving. That meant three minutes hadn’t passed yet. The opponent had lost one leg and couldn’t run away.
“Ugh…”
Rapid acceleration. One burst of rapid acceleration my body could endure for a short time, but two was difficult. A metallic taste filled my mouth and my vision briefly went dark. The moment my sight returned, I checked the status—too late. One of Icarus’s arms had already been torn off.
“Ailee!”
“Talk!”
“Repeat!”
“But then you—”
“Repeat!”
Acceleration again. Before the arm holding the weapon could even swing toward me, I shattered it first. Before the second gun barrel mounted on the shoulder could fire, I ripped it off first. Before he could do it. Before he could even begin. Faster than the enemy. Moving later than the enemy’s initial movement, yet ending up faster than the enemy.
The opponent would never give up his core. It wasn’t that he lost his trajectory after seeing it. He read the gap between rapid acceleration and braking, always keeping his body at an angle that prevented me from targeting him directly.
If my body had been healthy, if it could have endured the rapid acceleration, I wouldn’t have needed to leave the controls to Ailee. I could have moved more precisely and aimed for the core.
“Ten seconds until generator shutdown!”
Time flowed mercilessly. Even though only one of the opponent’s limbs remained, auxiliary frames kept emerging from Icarus to block attacks and counter.
“Ailee, stop us!”
“S-suddenly?”
“Yes! Stop while maintaining the maximum distance we can accelerate from!”
Rapid acceleration, followed by an emergency stop. Cold sweat poured down my body and drool began dripping from my mouth. It was a sign that vomiting was imminent. I covered my mouth with one hand to hold back the nausea while staring at Icarus with my eyes. It was a complete wreck, yet it somehow made me feel certain that I could never win.
“The difference in real combat experience, I suppose.”
Interactions that had been impossible in the actual game. An environment where ricochets, acceleration recoil, and everything else had to be considered. These were things Deep hadn’t known about this world. But now, there was one thing he knew for certain.
“At this point, you must understand just how much I hate you.”
“Well… I get it, yeah.”
Aron Dyke answered slowly, breathing hard.
“But doesn’t that only mean something if you actually win?”
Come at me. As if saying that, Icarus discarded all its weapons and exposed its core. Even the short-range comms were cut off. There shouldn’t be any way to deal with this. I wasn’t worried about the opponent. He wasn’t strong enough for that to be possible.
“Ailee. Fine control is—”
“Leave it to me!”
“Accelerate.”
I pushed the stick and pedal forward at the same time. The thrusters fired and the machine burst forward. My vision blurred slightly, making fine control impossible. At the same moment, what entered my sight was Aron’s—Icarus’s movement.
“Hovering?”
The unbalanced body floated slightly into the air, then slid forward as it extended its one remaining foot. There was originally no such thing as a Titan that performed kicks. But once I knew it was possible, all I had to do was copy it.
“This actually works in real combat, you commoner!”
The greatsword fixed to the torso pierced straight through the leg and embedded itself. It was now completely locked in place. Moving to change trajectory or cut it away had become impossible. The two hovering Titans fell to the ground at the same time. Both machines slid across the sand and came to a stop simultaneously. One had its generator shut down. The other had all its limbs destroyed.
The moment I thought it was a draw, an auxiliary arm emerged from Icarus’s flank, raising a weapon. A standard pistol.
“Just how many weapons does that thing have?”
The equipment that had been completely meaningless against Kaiser was now the most lethal thing possible for my Titan.
THUD!
The moment the direct hit struck the generator and it exploded, the screen went dark and the hatch opened.
“I lost.”
The instant the hatch opened, Professor Zeke held out a plastic bag. I gratefully accepted it and immediately started throwing up.