You know what they say, humans are one of the most adaptable species on the planet. It seems despite everything nature throws at us, from icy snowstorms, to heart stopping earthquakes, humanity has not only survived but prospered. Some like to credit this ability to our technological prowess, our unique human ingenuity that allowed us to evolve from primitive apes. I can say that this applies to the humans who have conquered this world as well.

It has been one week since I found myself out in the Frontier, on the edge of the Atecia continent. One week has passed since I started living with Amber, my partner and savior. Because I just showed up out of nowhere, I have no identity in this world. I am a phantom, something that does not exist. It took a while, but my paperwork has finally been completed. I can proudly call myself a mercenary.

To be honest, I am envious of all the isekai protagonists blessed with overpowered skills and their godly luck. Can you believe that some people are reincarnated into noble families or have the uncanny ability to just walk up to an adventurer’s guild and just sign up right after being transported? I had to wait one freaking week just to prove the Caleb Wong is a real person and should be allowed to find work hunting monsters!

In this world, there are more opportunities to life than just hunting monsters for cash. However, seeing as how my high school education up to now is of little to no help in this world, I don’t really have any other choice of employment. Besides, I am not complaining. One of the perks of being a mercenary is being able to pilot a Hornbreaker.

“Ok pretty boy,” the voice echoed throughout the enclosed cockpit. “Show me what you can do.”

“Are you sure this thing is safe, Olivia?”

“Hey now, you’re the one who said all my commercial products sucked.”

“I didn’t say they sucked...I just thought their responsiveness was lacking.”

“And so I present to you, our latest prototype Frontier Sentinel for military use, the FSX-00 THUNDERBIRD.”

“And you said your company lost the FSX trials because this unit was too expensive to mass produce. Oh, its also crazy fast, too fast for normal humans to handle.”

“You seem like you can handle it. Besides, the special G-suit you are wearing will help dampen the effects.”

“Suppose I don’t die, but isn’t bad for you if I wreck this machine?”

“Don’t worry hot stuff, your ‘Android’ device is going to make me more money than that prototype ever will.”

I am sure my palms are sweating, but the gloves are not letting it affect my grip on the control stick. According to Olivia, the Thunderbird uses a new concept cockpit different from previous generations of Hornbreakers. Instead of information being displayed on flat screens, visual information is fed directly to the pilot via a special mask/visor/helmet. The new style HUD is said to enhance pilot feedback and reaction time. Indeed, it is as though I am viewing the Frontier desert through the eyes of the Hornbreaker itself.

The special pilot suit I am wearing right now is something straight out of Gundam. Normal hornbreakers are not meant to go up to speeds of 300km/hr. It is a good thing the Frontier is a vast open space. The engineers who designed this thing must have been smoking something nice. Surely, a ground vehicle has no need to go this fast.

I calmed myself as I prepared to step on the acceleration pedal. My mind flashed back to a few hours ago, before I found myself in the cockpit of a military protype. Yes, this chain of event all started because I just passed my Hornbreaker basics course yesterday and I asked Amber to help me choose my own machine so I can help her hunt monsters.

…

…

I never had pets back when I still lived on Earth. My only interaction with them was playing with other people’s dogs at the park. Ever since I started freeloading in Amber’s spacious apartment that she inherited from her late parents, I have found myself the center of attention of three cats.

Stolen story; please report.

For the past week, I have been woken up in the morning by my new furry friends: Oscar, Mike and Rosemary. There is no need for alarms. Every morning at six, Oscar will plant his furry bottom on my face while Rosemary proceeds to walk across my chest. Mike just paws my arm. Thanks to my strict schedule as a competitive swimmer, I’m used to waking up at ungodly hours.

“Morning guys.”

I got out of bed and went to clean myself up. As per agreement, I am currently occupying Amber’s old childhood bedroom. It is also the cleanest room in the apartment now that I am occupying it. I did try to clean up the rest of the unit, but Amber just messes it up again by night.

Amber can be summed up by two easily observable facts. She is a kind girl who likes to pick up stray cats, making me think that my presence is akin to Oscar. And secondly, Amber is a creature of habit, stubborn to the core and extremely messy.

“I have a system.” Those are the words of excuse Amber makes whenever I try to organize our common living space into something more ‘eye welcoming.’ My mom always used to make me do all the cleaning in the house. Being clean is so ingrained into my mindset that Amber’s slob like lifestyle make me super uncomfortable. That alone has stopped me from feeling excited at the reality that I am cohabitating with a beautiful young lady.

So far, I have accidentally seen Amber’s bare bountiful breasts twice. I have seen her walk into the living room with just a bath towel at least three times. My face has never received such physical abuse in my life. Not even my mother has slapped my as much as Amber has during these past six days. And I fear my face will continue to be the target of her embarrassed outbursts until she gets accustomed to the idea that I live here now. Either that or until I have enough money to rent a shitty studio.

I have also taken over the duties of feeding the cats in the morning as well as preparing breakfast for the both of us. Besides from a lack of cellphones, airplanes and satellites, technology here is not really that different that what I am used to. The fridge works the same, so does the stove. The food is more or less the same: eggs, toast, milk and ham. Thanks to whatever miracle that also sent me here, I can read the language on the packages just fine.

“Mornin.” The smell of the food must have woken Amber up as usual.

“Hey Amber. Food’s almost done.”

I am feeling more and more like her husband or her mom these days. And I thought I was supposed to be the freeloader.

“How come the food tastes so much better when you make it?” Amber asked as she eagerly devours her breakfast.

“It’s the same ingredients. I just don’t burn them.”

“How do you not burn them?”

“By not using so much fire. How have you managed by yourself all these years? I’m amazed you can ever take care of the cats.”

“I don’t know. I forgot how food used to taste like before you started making it.”

Oh dear. I may have spoiled the princess.

“Anyways…I was thinking of heading out to the dealership and buying my own Hornbreaker.”

“…” Amber continues to eat with total concentration.

“Uhh…Amber?”

“I heard ya.”

“Like I was saying, I want to get my own Hornbreaker so I can start hunting. You can help me pick one out. There are so many brands and models to choose from.”

“Hmm…”

“Something the matter?”

“Not really. Just don’t think the ‘prodigy’ needs my help anymore. After all I’m not a god of piloting. I’m just me, plain old Amber.”

“Don’t tell me you are jealous because the instructor praised me a little bit too much yesterday.”

Yesterday I went and took the test to be a Hornbreaker pilot. The moment I stepped into the cockpit of the test machine, something just clicked. It was like I was playing that Gundam arcade game with the fake cockpit. Apparently I was so good for my first time, the instructor was at a loss for words. Little known fact, the instructor was a former military Hornbreaker pilot who drifted down to Wallbase after being discharged.

‘You’re a real prodigy kid!’ I recalled the instructor saying. ‘A once in a generation talent is what you are.’

I later heard from Amber that she bombed the same test three times.

“I mean you are not to shabby yourself. My aim sucks compared to you.” I did my best to point out her good side.

“You calling me a moving turret?”

“Oh nonononono. I think you are more of a mobile sniper. I remember how you hit that Sunkisser with deadly accuracy back when you rescued me.”

“A sniper eh.” She perked up at that. “Got a nice ring to it.”

“Piloting skills aside, I still wish to employ your expert knowledge in Hornbreakers. There are just so many to choose from, you know. With your years of experience, I am confident that you can pick out the right one for me.”

“I don’t know what your goal is by buttering me up so much, but I’m not an expert by any means.”

Take the hint! I just want to spend the day out with you. Window shopping with a member of the opposite sex has been shown to be a key factor in relationship development. It’s not like I want to share a bed with you or anything. All I need is for our relationship to be healthy enough that I can influence you enough so you can see the merit of a tidy living quarters.

“We can just check out the brands one by one. I’m sure we can pick something out together eventually.”

“I did say I’m not an expert…but that doesn’t mean I don’t know one. My friend Olivia knows a thing or two.”

“Awesome!” Here we go, a convenient plot development. “Is Olivia a mechanic by any chance?”

“Sometimes. But most of the time, she manages the company.”

“Oh. She has her own company?”

“Yeah. She’s the heir to the largest Hornbreaker manufacturing company on the continent: König Heavy Industries”