The Birth of the Black Fairy
Over the weekend, Neria, the CT Club seniors, and I focused entirely on one task, going back and forth across the hill. We were installing a monorail to allow quick travel up and down the slope. Connecting the tracks laid by Trooper 01 along the hill and securing them to the ground proved far more difficult and time-consuming than expected. Even though the distance wasn’t particularly long, the job still ate up the entire weekend.
“Good work, everyone!” After we finished laying the tracks and completed a round trip on the small monorail, Rane wiped the sweat from her brow with the towel around her neck and shouted with vigor.
“You’ve all worked so hard.”
“You two worked hard too.”
As first-years, Neria and I kept bowing deeply to the seniors. By now we had grown fairly close to everyone.
“Still, I see you in a new light, Luna.”
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
Rane grinned brightly and clapped me on the shoulder. “I thought you were some delicately raised young lady, but I never expected you to be that good with a shovel and a pickaxe.”
“Yeah. You’d make an excellent field worker.”
Muri’s eyes had taken on the look of someone gazing at her successor. You’re not a physical labor specialist; you’re an Aindium engineer.
“Ahaha. I enjoyed adventures quite a bit when I was young.”
In truth, it was thanks to my time in the K-military that I had grown so accustomed to manual labor.
“Does Luna’s family really have a mountain in their backyard like the rumors say?”
“No, they don’t. Where on earth do these strange rumors keep coming from….”
Just where did all these bizarre rumors about me even begin?
“The sun’s about to set, so let’s head out for dinner.”
“We’ll eat separately.”
Even while laying the monorail, Kirié and Neria had carried copies of Dr. Carol’s research log with them, continuing their studies. Then, on Sunday morning, unable to wait for the ordered materials to arrive, they began work on the replica in the school’s maintenance workshop practice room. It wasn’t full-scale production yet; they were building a prototype to see whether they could actually implement the technology Dr. Carol had left behind.
“To have a research log that should be reported to the academic world immediately, and to actually be able to build it….”
Kirié and Neria looked as if they had reached heaven itself. Yet a few days later, once the ordered materials finally arrived, their faces fell as though they had plummeted straight into hell.
“Is it really that tough?”
“Yeah….”
Neria, who had grown more talkative in the dormitory, was now so drained she often slumped over without the energy to speak. I prepared a special nourishing meal and delivered it to her, since she could barely bring herself to go to the dining hall.
“What is this?”
“Chicken porridge.”
I had originally planned to make samgyetang, but students were forbidden from entering the kitchen. I had no choice but to ask the cooking staff to prepare it in a hurry.
After blowing on the porridge and making sure Neria ate every last bite, I went to find Kirié, who was still holed up in the maintenance workshop.
“Hey, you’re here.”
Kirié looked far better off than Neria.
“Are you all right, senior? Neria seems completely exhausted.”
“Me? I’ve adapted, and my stamina’s better than hers anyway.”
Kirié grinned and waved the wrench in her hand.
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Chicken porridge. I brought it for you, senior.”
“Really? Thanks. I was just getting hungry.”
Kirié never turned down food. Having grown used to skipping meals just to spend more time with Aindiums, she made sure to eat whenever she had the chance.
“Did you skip meals again?”
“Well, yeah. But you’re starting to resemble Rane more and more.”
“Really? Hehe.”
I felt pleased at being told I was growing like my favorite character and respected senior, but Kirié added an extra remark.
“Yeah. The nagging, the meddling….”
Ah, that kind of resemblance.
Kirié, who had been happily devouring the chicken porridge from the very person she had just called a nag and a busybody, burst out laughing at my pout.
“But you also resemble her in how much you like taking care of others, and in how well you get along with people like me and Neria. So don’t feel too bad about it.”
Honestly, if only she would stop talking sometimes.
After finishing her late meal, Kirié brought out a circular device slightly larger than a soccer ball.
“This is the prototype we built after studying the research log.”
“What kind of device is it?”
“It lets you fly without a jetpack.”
“You already made something like that?”
Wasn’t this the core component that distinguished a standard Nimust-class from the Limpid Fairy?
I helped too!
“That’s right. Our No. 7 here helped tremendously.”
“I see.”
It seemed the maintenance fairy I had assigned last time had provided considerable assistance in deciphering the research log and building the prototype. Still, to have a working prototype less than a week after the materials arrived—it was exactly what one would expect from Kirié, a main-character-level mechanic.
“How is the performance at this stage?”
It will be considerably inferior to what our Limpid possesses. After all, the original log used to create her was destroyed by the Master.
“What? Why?”
She feared it might fall into the Empire’s hands. She even considered scrapping Limpid entirely, but gave up once she realized we already regarded her as family.
“……”
Kirié, who had been conversing with No. 7, fell into deep thought.
“I see. No wonder it felt like reaching the mana magnetic field layer, as Luna described, would be difficult at this level. In that case, how about directly studying the components inside the Limpid Fairy?”
That is not allowed! Limpid is our precious little sister. Performing surgery on her when she is uninjured is strictly forbidden!
“Little sister? Hmm. The relationship between fairies and Aindiums is a valid research subject too. Still, if you all oppose it, there’s nothing I can do.”
Surprisingly, Kirié gave up on the idea of disassembling the Limpid Fairy quite quickly.
“In truth, my curiosity as a mechanic makes me want to take her apart piece by piece and study her, but touching a masterpiece is no different from taking a famous painting out of its frame and adding brushstrokes to it under the pretense of research.”
It seemed her desire to preserve a masterpiece outweighed her curiosity as a gearhead. Still, the Limpid Fairy was the machine I had to pilot. If it were destroyed in battle, would that be the same as scratching a priceless painting with my fingernails?
“What if I completely wreck the Limpid Fairy while piloting it? What would you do then?”
“I’d kill you.”
“Then… what if I bring it back moderately damaged and ask for repairs?”
“I’ll hit you once and then repair it.”
Kirié gave a terrifying smile and smacked the wrench against her opposite palm. Gearhead senior is scary.
The test of the anti-gravity levitation device Kirié had built was conducted quietly in a location far from the school. Since it was not yet time to reveal Dr. Carol’s research log, the experiment would proceed under the principal’s permission, framed as a CT Club extracurricular activity. I was chosen as the test pilot.
The device had been mounted on a mass-produced Nimust-class unit. The moment I boarded, the control system, instrument panel, and interface felt distinctly different from those of the Limpid Fairy.
“Understood.”
“That’s true.”
If the replica’s performance fell too far short of the log’s descriptions, it would cause problems, but since the device was at a level Kirié could produce, the risk of discovery had decreased. We could not create an Aindium equal to the Limpid Fairy, but that only made the real one’s uniqueness shine even brighter, didn’t it?
I started the engine, double-checked the safety systems, and took a deep breath to steady my nerves.
“Launch!”
I pressed the hastily attached button on the instrument panel. The device’s magic activated at once. Translucent wings materialized above the Nimust’s shoulders. Though lighter than other Aindiums, the massive frame—overwhelmingly heavy compared to a human—defied gravity and soared into the sky. The treetops that had filled my vision dropped rapidly beneath me, revealing the horizon and skyline previously hidden by the forest. Before the sea beyond the island’s horizon could come into view, the flight ceiling was reached.
I tested sustained flight in a hovering state. Watching the automatic logs of fuel and mana consumption, I held position for roughly one minute. The Nimust then folded its wings and began gliding. The descent was also an extension of the magic, so there were no issues.
Thud—
The landing was light, like a small hop. Relatively speaking, anyway.
The joyful voices of the CT Club members and Neria flooded the comm channel. Yet I could not share their pure happiness. I wanted to fly higher, farther, and longer. To me, this flight had ended in incomplete combustion.
The speed, the altitude—everything was laughably inferior to the Limpid Fairy. Still, we had accomplished what no other Aindium had managed until now. It was worth raising a toast.
Wearing a joyful smile, I ran toward the seniors and Neria.
Ah, when would I finally be able to pilot the Limpid Fairy without worry? The issues surrounding her needed to be resolved soon.
The replica was completed in mid-April, right when midterm preparations were at their peak. The moment I heard the news, I rushed to the makeshift workshop after classes ended. Kirié and Neria, who had devoted an entire month to this project, lay asleep with happy expressions, dark circles heavy beneath their eyes.
After gently covering them with blankets, I gazed at the two black Nimust-class units standing before me. They resembled the Limpid Fairy, yet their fine details differed subtly. Two replicas.
“Wow. You really can build two Nimust-class units in a single month.”
“Kirié and Neria worked incredibly hard.”
The reason for two replicas was simple. The Limpid Fairy’s specs were so overpowered that presenting it as a mere replica was practically impossible. After the principal, the CT Club seniors, and even Neria put their heads together, the result was one fake masterpiece to be offered to the King of Alitus, and one personal unit for me—officially recorded as an improved variant based on the first.
The principal marveled at both replicas, then pointed to one of them. It was the unit that looked almost identical to the Limpid Fairy.
“During your school life, you must pilot this one.”
“Understood.”
“Registration has already been completed. Its designation is Black Fairy. We will make some adjustments to the other unit and transfer it to the military along with a copy of the research log. Does that meet with your approval?”
“Yes. I permit it.”
With this, I now possessed two personal machines: the Black Fairy for public activities, and its twin—the genuine Limpid Fairy. The principal would assume I would ride the Black Fairy the entire time I remained here, but I had other plans. Training and examinations were one thing, but to handle the incidents that would occur at the academy, the power of the Limpid Fairy was absolutely necessary.
As soon as next week’s midterm exams concluded, the Limpid Fairy would be deployed.
The incident that followed the episode in which Lewina had appeared in the original story.
The high-ground territorial raid was about to begin.