Hunting Preparations
Spring had slipped away without me noticing. The flowers that had burst into glorious bloom were now clothing themselves in fresh green leaves, and the season when larvae that had spent years buried in the earth would finally shed their skins and raise their voices was fast approaching. After living in a place where it felt like only summer and winter existed, I had savored a real spring for the first time in ages. In its place, the first summer I would experience in Galaxia was shaping up to be an incredibly busy one.
It was a few weeks before finals when I spotted Kirié in the clubroom for the first time in a while. I walked over and greeted her.
“It’s been a while, Senior.”
“Yeah. Been pretty busy lately. You kids holding up okay?”
“Yes. I’m always fine.”
“Neria looked like she was trying to work herself to death.”
“Can’t be helped. Mechanics are always swamped.”
Mechanics usually warmed up to pilots and operators who actually appreciated their hard work. Kirié was no exception; her expression softened even as she tried to play it cool. With the greetings out of the way, it was time to get to the point.
“Senior, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever worked with Ellydium before?”
“Ellydium?”
“Yes. I figured you might have experience with it.”
“Not personally. That stuff’s insanely hard to get.”
“Not personally?”
“Right. I don’t know if you knew this, but before I came here I did an apprenticeship at a pretty famous workshop.”
“I know.”
Kirié’s master was Neria’s father, Meister Nelson, and his workshop was the largest Aindium workshop in Alitus. Since it was a state-certified facility, I had expected they would occasionally receive rare materials. From the way Kirié spoke, it sounded like she had indeed seen Ellydium before.
“Rare stuff does come through the workshop sometimes. People bring it in asking for repairs or research. I’ve seen Aindium armaments made with Ellydium.”
“Whoa, they used something that valuable for weapons?”
“Yeah. Because of what it is, it’s usually reserved for very special cases. When you can actually get your hands on it, that is.”
Kirié spoke proudly about the time she had seen Ellydium. She hadn’t maintained the weapons herself, but she had watched her master work from the side. That was fortunate. In the original story she had turned the small amount of Ellydium Rendel obtained into a magnificent blade, so maybe I never needed to worry. Still, this was important, so I had to confirm.
“But why the sudden interest in Ellydium?”
“We learned about orbital elevators in class last time. I know the Damar Empire supposedly swept up every bit of surface Ellydium to build them, but they couldn’t have poured literally everything they had into it, right?”
“Well, no.”
That was exactly what had happened. The imperial family of the empire believed their ancestors were honored beings from space and viewed expansion into space as both a divine mission and a long-cherished wish. About two hundred years ago, the emperor at the time was a fervent believer in the theory of celestial arrival. He devised a plan that looked impossible to anyone else.
The Sky Stair Project.
The plan was to pierce the mana field covering the sky using passages made of Ellydium, which possessed the property of blocking mana interference, and advance into space. Galaxia’s mana field usually began around five kilometers above the surface and ended at roughly twenty kilometers. However, just like on Earth, there were mountain ranges over five kilometers high, and those areas began at even greater heights with slightly thinner mana fields leading into space. In other words, the highest place on the planet was the easiest place to reach space from.
After extensive research, the empire discovered this fact. Brilliant minds gathered to carefully examine constructability and stability, and they began building the orbital elevator. At the time, the empire was the only major producer of Ellydium—a precious metal with limited uses. On top of that, they aggressively collected even small amounts of it through trade with neighboring countries and overseas continents. People constantly criticized it as a waste of national power and claimed the empire was in decline, but the empire poured all its accumulated technology into the project and completed the orbital elevator in mere decades.
Other nations could only watch as the empire launched its first spaceship via the orbital elevator and began constructing space colonies. Galaxia, the home planet of this Aindium world, had a harsher environment than Earth, but space itself was far kinder. The “mana” and “magic” that the story writer pulled out whenever convenient took care of most problems. With just a few months of training, even ordinary people could use wind and water magic to survive for days in space without a suit. Earth magic made food production easy, and fire magic increased energy efficiency to absurd degrees. The mana that filled space made it all possible.
The empire expanded its space colonies and used its enormous wealth and population to increase its influence on Galaxia as well. Eventually, the Republic, feeling threatened by the empire’s growing power, started a war to seize the orbital elevator—and that was how the Aindium series began. Ellydium truly was the root cause of everything.
However, even the empire couldn’t sweep up every last piece of Ellydium on Galaxia. Naturally, since it had always been used occasionally, finished products and deposits whose locations remained undiscovered still existed. What I was looking for this time was slightly different in concept, but it was still Ellydium the empire had failed to find.
“It would be amazing if someone made an Aindium out of Ellydium.”
“Maybe. The mana-blocking ability sounds impressive, but it’s not that great when you actually work with it. It requires extremely precise magical processing, and the metal itself is too soft, so you have to make an alloy. That kills most of its special properties.”
“Huh? Really?”
In the original story, Kirié had turned the small amount of Ellydium Rendel obtained into a wonderful sword, so I had assumed it was an excellent material. Kirié studied my expression and let out a small laugh.
“Don’t look so disappointed. That’s exactly why my master spent days agonizing over it until he found a solution. I learned that technique.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Wait—do you have some Ellydium? How did you get it?”
“No, I was just thinking it would be nice to have.”
“Ugh, what? And here I was getting excited. If we had some, I was thinking of making a weapon myself.”
“For who?”
“Anyone. Rendel’s the strongest among us, so maybe for him.”
As Kirié spoke Rendel’s name, she scratched her cheek.
From what I had observed up close, Kirié didn’t seem particularly interested in Rendel. She appeared even less close to him than in the original story, and she had recently started leaving the maintenance of his White Fang to Neria or Marius more often. These days she seemed to pay more attention to my Limpid instead. She wouldn’t even let Marius touch the Limpid’s maintenance, and she only entrusted it to Neria when she was exceptionally busy. A masterpiece really did seem to possess something that could steal a mechanic’s soul.
“Of course, if there’s enough, I’ll make something good for the Limpid too.”
“Really? You promised.”
“Yeah, yeah. I promised, so go get some already.”
No take-backs later, Senior.
To increase the yield of Ellydium, several preliminary steps were necessary. There were quite a few ways to use my knowledge of the original story, but since I couldn’t prepare the others in advance, I ultimately had to raise my own abilities even further.
“Sigh.”
Yet my heart felt restless and sighs kept escaping me, leaving me with no motivation to do anything. Leaning against the clubroom window and watching the falling petals, I felt strangely melancholy. I had let the rare spring pass by far too quickly with training and studying.
“Luna, what’s wrong?”
Neria, who had come to the clubroom after a while, tugged at my sleeve.
“Nothing. Just thinking that spring is really ending.”
“Hmm. Is this what they call ‘spring fever’?”
“It’s not that, Christine.”
Christine, a same-year operator who happened to be nearby, adjusted her glasses with a sparkle in her eyes and made a strange comment. I shook my head and moved away from the window. If I stayed there any longer, another weird rumor would spread. I needed to pull myself together and move, even if I had to force it.
*
Today I planned to visit the Magic Club. I had received their help before when learning perception-inhibiting magic that used dark mana, and the members were comrades in similar situations, so I felt comfortable with them.
Creak—
At the sound of the old hinge, everyone in the dim room turned their attention toward me.
“Yahho. Everyone, it’s been a while.”
“Ooh, Miss Luna. Welcome.”
A second-year senior wearing a large pointed hat came out to greet me at the door. The senior with heavy dark circles and dry hair tied in messy twin tails had helped me a lot when I learned magic last time. In return, I had spoken to the headmaster and secured a small clubroom for the Magic Club that had been wandering without a proper space. They treated me with genuine kindness. Some students found them off-putting or strange and kept their distance, but I had never seen people this pure at a military academy. Well, maybe Rendel, who had staked his life on Aindium piloting and combat, possessed a similar level of purity.
“Thanks to Miss Luna, we’ve gained more members. Having a clubroom makes a world of difference.”
“I’m glad. As a temporary member, I’ll participate actively too.”
“Your passion for magic alone is more than enough, Miss Luna.”
At President Della’s words, the other members smiled as well. I was welcomed here not only because I had obtained their clubroom, but also because of a sense of camaraderie. Every member of the Magic Club piloted Nimust-class Aindiums. The phrase “magic dwells in the human form” was both a rule and a truth that ran through the entire Aindium series. It was also why Aindiums—humanoid weapons that were inherently inefficient—could display overwhelming power compared to tank-like armaments.
The Nimust-class, being the smallest and most human-like, required pilots with exceptional magical aptitude among Aindium pilots. Otherwise, a Nimust-class was just a small Aindium that could be easily taken down by two power-armor soldiers. My personal unit, the Black Fairy, was a high-performance Nimust-class Aindium, impressive enough to captivate my friends in the Magic Club. Moreover, after Kirié and Neria studied the Limpid, they dramatically raised the academy mechanics’ understanding of Nimust-class units. As a result, first-years who received Nimust-class machines got units with performance far superior to those of the past. I heard the second- and third-years had also undergone major upgrades.
Was this another butterfly effect caused by my arrival? In any case, the academy’s combat strength had increased, which ultimately benefited me.
Since I had come to the Magic Club, I should focus on studying magic. Classes only taught the most basic things, so this was the best place when I needed deeper research. Let’s see. To draw out the Limpid’s magical abilities, should I study dark attributes?
While choosing an appropriate book from the dedicated library, a message board suddenly appeared.
Ding—
Was my current appearance being broadcast? Until now it had only happened when I was with Rendel or other CT Club members. Oh, right. I had joined the CT Club now. That meant my image could be shown anytime from now on. They probably wouldn’t show anything too private, but I still found myself straightening my posture and standing properly.
I skimmed through the praise-filled posts about Luna on the message board, wondering when the camera would switch away, then decided to simply ignore it. To show sufficient skill in the upcoming event, I couldn’t afford to waste attention on anything else.
*
For a while I spent busy days going back and forth between the CT Club and the Magic Club after class. Finals were now only two weeks away. The time I had been waiting for had finally come.
Volunteer for Border Monster Subjugation.
—Community service hours and bonus points provided—
While my friends and I stared at the notice posted in front of the classroom, our class president shook his head and spoke up.
“The seniors said we shouldn’t take this one.”
“Why?”
“They give almost no community service hours and the bonus points are trash. They said it’s better to use the time preparing for finals.”
“Ugh, seriously?”
“Community service is something you can do starting from second year anyway, so just focus on finals. This time let’s definitely aim for the top class overall.”
“Yeah, sure. You work hard too.”
Leaving behind the class president and other friends who returned to their seats while grumbling, I headed to the faculty office listed as the application location on the notice.
“Luna, hello.”
“Hello, Senior Rendel.”
On the way, I ran into Rendel by chance. I had expected to meet him at least once since he would obviously participate in the subjugation, but I didn’t think it would happen this quickly. He probably wouldn’t tell me not to join, right?
“Where are you headed?”
“There was a notice in the classroom. I was thinking of applying for the border monster subjugation.”
“Hmm. Good idea. I’m actually on my way to apply for it too.”
As expected, Rendel didn’t oppose it. I was a little worried he might drag the other CT Club members into it as well. Having them would make the operation much easier, but I didn’t know who would agree.
“Oh, right. Take this.”
Rendel took something out of his pocket as if he had just remembered and handed it to me. It was a thin, coated bookmark made with a single pressed pink flower.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a bookmark made with a dried flower. I heard you were sad spring was ending.”
“Ah.”
That Christine. She had gone around the club saying weird things. Receiving an unexpected gift from an unexpected person left me a little flustered.
“Th-thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I still have a long way to go if I want to repay you for everything.”
At least he was self-aware. During virtual training he kept shouting “One more round” so many times. Thanks to that, my piloting skills had improved naturally, and recently I could fight him on relatively even ground. I still hadn’t won a single match, though.
Perhaps because of the summer heat, my slightly flushed face felt warm as I fanned myself with my hand and walked down the corridor with Rendel.