I Think I Got a Little Stronger

At her desperately instant change of stance, the girl finally floated back down to the floor, slow and unhurried.

And so, the counter-haggling began.

"Well then, the price I have in mind is…"

"Yes, ma'am!"

The man swallowed dryly, hard.

No 1.2 million rip? Then die — because she might crush him flat with that Titan.

No 1.2 million rip? Then pay up — because she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might drag him off by force and work him like a slave.

"Cores, 12,000… and the mana amplifiers… well, the market price has dropped, so… I'll take 8,000 rip… and the alloy wiring is…"

Numbers spilled one after another from her trembling lips.

The man had been listening in a daze, but his eyes slowly began to waver.

She knows the market inside and out?

This was no half-baked knowledge. The price fluctuations by purity, the recently raised parts price caps — even the black-market margin rates had been factored in.

What the hell.

The only reason Rosetta hadn't demanded the full 1.2 million was that she, too, had no interest in a commotion — retaliation, reports to the authorities, all of it. Her own business wasn't exactly squeaky clean either.

You idiot…!

A cold shiver ran down his spine. At the same moment, he realized just how colossal a mistake he had made.

Had I seriously tried to swindle a Titan combat knight to her face? A human weapon — said to be the strongest fighting force in the Kingdom?

I got completely fooled by the appearance.

Mana capacity enough to deploy a full-sized Titan meant she was no deliveryman or mechanic — no mere quasi-knight. This was a combat knight with immense mana reserves. She had to be a top-tier cadet even by Academy standards!

"75,000 rip… should be about right… you wouldn't be losing out either, mister…?"

"Y-Yes! Exactly right! That's precisely the number I had in mind!"

Unconditional surrender, effective immediately. He scrambled to open the safe and pulled out a thick bundle of bills and a promissory note.

"Here — 75,000 rip in total."

"Looks right to me…"

The girl counted the sum with meticulous care, and only then did a smile finally creep back onto her face.

"Put it in for me, please."

"Excuse me?"

"The money bundles… they're heavy…"

"O-Of course, right away!"

He packed the bundles neatly into her lightweight bag and slung it over her shoulder like a schoolbag. At that, the Titan that had filled the entire room gave off a pulse of blue light and vanished without a trace.

"See you again sooon."

Having finished her business, the girl grunted and shoved her way out the door — and just as the man's legs finally gave out and he began to crumple to the floor—

She's… coming back?

Eeeek— through the narrowing gap of the closing door, the girl peeked her head back in and, with that same teary-eyed expression, left one last word.

"Do business… honestlyyy…"

Clunk—

Long after she was gone, the man simply sat there on the floor, staring blankly at the firmly shut door.

The next day.

Even back at the workshop, I couldn't stop smiling.

My sleeves — I'd sold them at the highest possible price. Considering that my average monthly income over the past six months had hovered around 2,000 to 3,000 rip, that 75,000 meant I'd just pocketed three years' worth of salary in one go.

And this isn't even the end of it.

On top of that, the workshop storage was still piled sky-high with the blackened alloy armor plates from the old Titans. I simply couldn't fit them into the lightweight bag, so I'd left them for next time.

Now that's the real treasure.

Plus, there were the good bits I'd set aside instead of selling to the broker — universal parts compatible even with the previous-generation Titans. Those had already been grafted onto my own machines and were being put through their paces in testing as we spoke.

Go get 'em, pups!

In the dusty open lot outside the workshop, Pups Unit 1 and Unit 2 went hurtling toward a wild metal golem. Their movements were pure ice skating — skimming and sliding across the ground, all thanks to the newly installed magnetic levitation array and inertial control modules.

Oooh~ now THIS is high-end.

My fingers danced across the mana panel, and in time with them the pups spun in place with barely a brake touch, or converted recoil into thrust — firing a mana cannon, then skidding away to open the range. Shoot, slide. Shoot again, slide again. Two machines moving as one in a flawless, synchronized kiting dance.

Whatcha gonna do about that, huh?

The golem, its speed bleeding away, could do nothing but flail at empty air while the pups toyed with it one-sidedly. Kuguuoong! At last it couldn't endure the endless pecking of light shots, and the mass of scrap iron collapsed into a heap of junk.

Performance: confirmed.

I stroked the returning, victorious pups with the Titan's metal tail. Of course, the raw power of the mana cannons was nothing special — measured against Titan armor, they were weaker than a pistol round and wouldn't leave so much as a scratch.

But these little guys were scouts. Mobility and harassment capability were all they needed. Reproducing the running-shot technique my gamer instincts remembered, exactly as I remembered it — that alone was more than satisfying for now.

Besides, the main body got an even crazier upgrade.

It wasn't just the pups. My personal Titan — the actual main body — had seen its specs shoot straight up. Acceleration control, reduced input latency, and a whole catalogue of other upgrades… but the single part I'd poured the most care into was, without question—

Fwoooong—

Responding to my command, the massive metal tail whipped forward like a serpent into the cockpit's field of view. Black alloy segments interlocked with meticulous precision, like the spine of some ancient dinosaur. Patsutsutsu—! The exterior was a little crude, but the arcs of current leaping from every seam between the segments were, frankly, devastatingly cool.

In my current state, I could probably crush Academy cadets one-on-one.

I leaned back in the cockpit and let the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought drift. Though it was pure guesswork, of course. Rosetta, who'd dropped out the moment she enrolled, and me, who'd taken over her body after — neither of us had so much as a single sparring match under our belts, so I had no way to gauge exactly how strong I'd become.

Does it matter, though? It's not like I'm fighting them.

I shook my head and scattered the thought. Beating cadets or not beating them was pointless either way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— I had no intention of going anywhere near the Academy. Given my plans going forward, the only comparison worth making was at least the level of an Abyss Exploration Knight. Because those were the ones I'd actually be competing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with.

Been a while — guess I'll lurk the forums.

Stretching lightly, I switched on the hologram pad out of pure habit, intending to catch up on the hot posts I'd missed while assembling parts for days. But…

What the? What's going on here?

Every time I hit refresh, dozens of new posts came cascading down like a waterfall.

Huh?

It didn't take me long to figure out why. Pinned at the very top of the hot posts was an announcement that had gone up about a week ago.

A royally sponsored examination. A few days earlier, a massive notice had gone up announcing that the Academy was, exceptionally, holding a special mid-term selection of new students.

And so, every last straggler hiding in every corner of the Kingdom came crawling out of the woodwork like a pack of dogs. The reason it had caught fire this badly, though, was the outrageous condition printed at the bottom of the notice.

Ainsane condition: no Titan? No problem — skill was all that mattered. The comment section had already descended into pandemonium.

Not just the repeat applicants, either — deliverymen and mechanics who'd been bouncing between construction sites and repair shops were all losing their minds over their "chance to turn their lives around."

So that's what it was.

I see, I see. A special selection. As I stared quietly at the panel screen, a strange feeling washed over me — because Rosetta's memories of life at the Academy were still vivid in my head.

Nothing to do with me, though.

Obviously. I had zero intention of groveling around the Academy ever again.

And yet… sifting through those memories, the old days kept resurfacing.

An exam, huh.

At the Academy, the practical examiners were usually serving cadets in their second or third year. Which meant anyone who sat the exam got the chance to test their mettle against them — completely legally.

I am a little curious, though.

It was true that I'd gotten a lot stronger. Not just my ability to pilot multiple machines simultaneously — the micro-control of a single unit had improved beyond all comparison to before. But exactly how much stronger that made me in concrete terms, I still didn't know.

Come to think of it, I've never really fought for real.

Aside from hunting scrap-can golems and roughing up one runaway bandit, I had no actual combat experience to speak of. And watching things on a game screen was, without a doubt, a very different beast from going body-to-body in a real fight.

I've got some breathing room now, anyway.

There was still time before the day came. I had no intention whatsoever of re-enrolling at the Academy… but it was a perfect opportunity to objectively measure my own strength.

My eyes drifted back to the hologram pad.

By my memory, the examiners would be second-year… or maybe third-year cadets. Perfect opponents for a live-fire test.

Maybe I'll go get my combat power measured for once?

With that thought settled, I reached my finger toward the blue link at the very bottom of the screen.