17. Birds of a Feather (1)
“That Odd cripple’s still hanging around over there?”
“Pardon? Who do you mean?”
“Curtis. The guy who can’t even pilot a Gigant is still an instructor at the academy.”
“Huh? You’re right. Even back when I was a cadet, everyone was saying we should kick him out, and he’s still holding on.”
Two Gigant pilots were trash-talking Curtis Mueller, who had the cadets lined up on one side of the training grounds. The problem was, they were talking loud enough for Curtis and the cadets to hear.
“Hey! You punks got something to say? Come over here and say it to my face!”
Curtis didn’t hold back just because they were Gigant pilots.
“What the hell, you little shit!”
The two Gigant pilots advanced. This was the training grounds at Winchester Castle, their home turf, and the cadets were just there for a two-week stint to observe Gigants.
“Am I wrong? You’re an Odd cripple.”
“So what? Did you contribute to making me a cripple? Fuck, did you even donate a single gold coin?”
“What did you say?”
“You tiny-dicked bastard! Back when you couldn’t even be my errand boy, who the hell do you think you are mouthing off? When I was commanding a company, you couldn’t even lead a squad. Oh wait—you still can’t. How shitty do you have to be to stay a squad member for 13 straight years?”
“This fucker’s lost his mind!”
The Gigant pilot couldn’t take it anymore and swung a fist. One side was a veteran active-duty pilot; the other was a discharged instructor teaching cadets due to injury.
“Urk!”
With a short groan, the one who fell was the Gigant pilot.
“Senior? This motherfucker!”
Thwack!
“Gah!”
The junior pilot charging in got sent flying by Curtis Mueller’s roundhouse kick.
“I might not have Odd, but you think I lack skill? You worthless pieces of trash!”
At that moment, the Gigant pilots from the 43rd Company, who’d been doing physical training on one side of the grounds, witnessed the scene.
“What the hell? Did that bastard just hit one of our company guys?”
“Crazy son of a bitch! Kill him!”
Nine Gigant pilots came charging over in a mob.
Gigant pilots swarmed from all directions, but Curtis didn’t back down. He charged right at them, creating one-on-one matchups and throwing punches.
Thud! Thwack! Thwack!
“Kuhuk!”
“Urgh!”
Two Gigant pilots went down in succession. Then a side kick from another caught Curtis, sending him tumbling. But he rolled back to his feet and landed a punch on yet another.
Curtis’s innate combat sense was superior, but the Gigant pilots had numbers on their side. As he started losing ground and fell, the group beating began.
The cadets couldn’t move, even as their instructor took hits. Their opponents were from the Blue Knights—no matter how elite the cadets, once commissioned, these guys would be their seniors and direct superiors. Gigant pilots were junior officers and full knights.
“Hey, ease up! You’re gonna kill him.”
Someone approached and tapped a kicker on the shoulder. The Gigant pilot turned.
“Who the fuck are you?!”
Seeing the kid looked young, he assumed it was a meddling cadet and swung without hesitation.
Whoosh!
“Oh, you dodged?”
“Cut it out, will ya? I won’t warn you twice.”
“This little shit! You’re dead!”
As the Gigant pilot swung again, Wayne Stein ducked his head and slipped inside, lightly flicking an uppercut.
Crack!
“Gah!”
The Gigant pilot’s jaw snapped back, and he crumpled.
Oh! Karian’s Odd breathing technique is already paying off!
What Wayne was currently practicing was the first stage of Karian’s Odd breathing method. To make his body more receptive to Odd, it involved spreading Odd throughout his body along with each breath, refining his flesh. As Odd permeated, his bones and muscles were tempered, the blood carrying Odd flowed freely, and every cell was stimulated. In short, his body became more agile and stronger. On top of that, having fully absorbed the combat experience and instincts of the Karian king, his entire body was a weapon.
“This bastard hit our company guys!”
Another Gigant pilot rushed at Wayne.
As a fist flew, Wayne threw one at the same time.
Smack!
With a dull thud, the opponent hit the dirt. Wayne’s punch, sharpened by Odd breathing, had simply reached the man’s face first.
Then another Gigant pilot kicked at Wayne. He caught the leg with his hand and swung his own right foot at the grounded one.
Splat! Boom!
“Eek!”
The impact of falling headfirst kept the pilot out cold.
With three down in a flash, Curtis rose from the ground and headbutted another pilot’s jaw, dropping him.
“You motherfuckers! I’ll kill you all!”
Curtis started swinging wildly. He grabbed one by the collar and hammered punches until the man passed out with a bloody nose. But Curtis didn’t stop.
“Hey! He’s out cold—stop!”
“And who the hell are you?”
Curtis spun and threw at Wayne.
Splat!
An unbearable pain exploded in his gut, and the sky spun.
“Argh! Gurk!”
Bile rose with bitter fluid, and Curtis clutched his stomach, doubling over.
“That’s the end of it.”
Wayne dusted his hands. With no Gigant pilots left standing, he figured the fight was over.
Then pilots from another company poured into the grounds, having heard the news somehow.
“There they are!”
“Kill that bastard!”
Wayne was dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected the Blue Knights—Dresden’s top fighting force—to brawl like street thugs, let alone come charging with clubs.
Fuck! Today’s the perfect chance to test Karian’s Odd breathing on my body!
Wayne squared up against the onrushing pilots.
“Everyone, halt! I won’t forgive any more rudeness!”
Snow Austin stepped forward, drawing her sharp sword with a steely glare.
“Huh? Squad Leader Snow?”
“Hold up—it’s Snow Austin!”
“Whoa! Up close, she’s even hotter!”
The charging pilots recognized her and froze as one, like a group under a mass stop spell.
They hadn’t recognized Wayne’s face but knew Snow’s—Wayne couldn’t help a wry smile.
These Gigant pilots are simpler than I thought…
“You punks just stood there watching your instructor get beat? All of you—10 laps around the grounds!”
At Curtis Mueller’s command, the cadets started running.
“Those disloyal shits!”
Curtis approached Wayne with an embarrassed look and bowed his head.
“Ahem. You helped me without knowing, and I was rude just now—my apologies.”
“Nah, I didn’t lose anything, so it’s fine.”
“Tch…”
Curtis, meanwhile, still felt his gut throbbing from Wayne’s hit.
“Senior Curtis, maybe it’s time to stop picking fights.”
“No, they started it!”
“Sigh! Just let it slide once, Senior.”
“Back when they were nobodies, now they strut because I can’t pilot a Gigant—it pisses me off.”
Irritation boiled in Curtis. Most who fell from grace became wrecks, but he wasn’t the type to cower over lost Odd.
“Argh! Fucking assholes!”
Curtis shot to his feet and bellowed at the cadets.
“Hey! Run straight, damn it!”
He seemed to be yelling extra to cover his embarrassment.
“Anyway, thanks for the help.”
Curtis bowed again. Wayne felt good—things were going as planned. He’d picked three squad members partly to train them, but more to recruit Curtis as well.
The book Cassnet had written detailed him.
[Curtis Mueller (32 years old)]
Gigant Piloting Ability - Advanced Gigant pilot capable of handling 2nd class Gigants. Excelled as commander of a 13-Gigant company.
Traits - Wounded by a Magic Knight from Tarun Kingdom during the Sailon Occupation Zone battle, lost ability to gather Odd, and was discharged. Currently instructs on Gigant combat and tactics at the officer academy.
Personality - Natural field commander with strong loyalty and leadership, respected by subordinates.
“But why can’t Curtis pilot a Gigant?”
“Pardon?”
Snow glanced at Curtis Mueller at Wayne’s sudden question. Curtis sighed in resignation.
“Just got injured in a battle five years ago. Damn Odd… wouldn’t gather anymore, so I couldn’t pilot. What can you do? Gotta eat, so I’m quietly teaching Gigant combat at the academy. But those bastards…”
“A Gigant combat instructor—must’ve made a name before.”
“Top of the Golden Riders,” Snow answered.
“Golden Riders?”
“Yes! Pike Stein the Third Young Master was in your class, and most of your classmates are company commanders now. But Senior Curtis was the first to make company commander, first to get assigned a 2nd class Gigant, and…”
“Snow, enough. It’s embarrassing.”
His irretrievable past dredged up, Curtis wore a bitter expression.
“Instructor Curtis, assemble the cadets.”
“Yes, Young Master Wayne!”
Curtis gathered them.
“Company, attention!”
Wayne stepped in front of the front-row cadet.
Snap!
“Cadet Bout Jansen!”
“Ow! My ears are ringing. Just stick out your hands, everyone!”
Wayne breezed through, shaking hands. Most couldn’t even manifest Odd Eyes, so no need to check barriers. He just leaked a bit of his own Odd as a test.
Too ordinary.
Wayne looked bored, but the cadets looked like they were facing doom. Getting picked meant the hellish Great Forest, so they desperately tried not to stand out. No one knew the Youngest Young Master’s criteria.
“Oh ho! What’s your name?”
The pointed-out cadet paled.
“R-Roren Werner.”
“Dismissed.”
“Gasp!”
Roren let out an end-of-the-world yelp. Bottom-of-the-class him had never expected selection.
Kid thought I was an Odd vacuum cleaner.
Wayne had injected a bit of Odd into Roren, only for it to vanish instantly. Strange, so he pushed more—gone without a trace. That’s why he picked him. Probably highly compatible with his green Odd. Or maybe never trained it at all.
He passed more until stopping before a late-teens girl cadet.
What’s with her? Odd won’t go in?
The girl resisted Wayne’s Odd. When he pushed harder, it bounced back.
Talent? Has Odd but can’t use it?
Not incompatibility—his Odd mixed fine with other pilots’ blue Odd. He’d tested injecting into Argen of the 7th once on return. Likely her body already held plenty, repelling his.
Why leave such talent aside? It piqued Wayne’s curiosity.
“What’s your name?”
“Nancy Oliver… sir.”
“Dismissed!”
Nancy Oliver bit her lip. Afterward, Wayne picked one more mediocre cadet who took his Odd well.
What? Just picking randomly?
Curtis, watching, tilted his head. Even without top students, mid-tier and talented ones remained. Yet Wayne picked without papers, all practical failures.
“Dismiss everyone but these three.”
“Yes, sir!”
Curtis sent the rest away.
“Curtis, good work.”
“Yes, sir!”
Wayne offered a hand; Curtis shook it.
“Huh?”
Curtis’s pupils doubled in size.
“How’s that? Odd after so long?”
“H-How did you…?”
Odd wriggled up his arm; Curtis gaped.
“Hold still. Just checking your body.”
“P-Pardon? Yes!”
Curtis barely breathed. Five years since feeling Odd in his body—he was baffled.
Wayne activated Odd Eyes, focusing to send his Odd everywhere. He’d wondered if it’d work, but no way to know without trying. After Python’s red Odd and the beast reincarnation, he could direct Odd for heat sensing. Now applying to steer green Odd into Curtis’s body parts.
“Where do you feel Odd now?”
“Left arm.”
“Now?”
“Right chest.”
Wayne blew more in, then cocked his head.
“Huh? That’s not right…”
He eyed Curtis.
“Injured on the left waist?”
“…Yes!”
Curtis winced in pain. Wayne withdrew his hand.
“I see the cause.”
“As expected…”
“Odd’s leaking from the wound. No matter how much you train, it’s like pouring into a bottomless jar. But why hasn’t the wound healed after five years?”
“Even senior healers don’t know. I think it’s that black Magic Knight.”
“Black Magic Knight?”
“In the Sailon battle, comrades and subordinates hit by the enemy commander’s black Magic Knight lost Odd gathering like me—all discharged. If Boltain Count hadn’t severed its arm and driven it off, casualties would’ve been worse.”
Some special magic or mana?
Wayne knew little of Magic Knights and was intrigued.
“More pilots discharged with your symptoms?”
“Yes. Fifteen others.”
“Fifteen?”
Wayne’s eyes lit up at the number.
“Y-Young Master… can you fix it?”
“No, not yet.”
Curtis gave a wry smile, hope dashed. Wayne had no quick fix.
“But in three or four months, I will.”
“Pardon?”
Wayne was on Karian’s first-stage Odd breathing, transitioning to second. The third stage held the solution for Curtis and his comrades.