YEAR: 1724. NOVEMBER 19TH. LOCATION: WAR ROOM IN FORT CAINHORN

With the Storm Crusaders taken care of, the main force of the 9th Corps finally showed up. General Cedric looked surprised, though, to be honest, I couldn’t tell if it was shock or just his usual expression. Either way, he didn’t press for details about how we managed to win. Maybe he just figured it was better not to know.

The 4th Corps? Well, their vanguard blew themselves up, literally. It was already bad enough before we arrived, but after bombing themselves, their number, which was originally 40,000, became less than 20,000. I guess they figured, “If we can’t win, we’ll at least make a mess.” Effective? Sure. Devastating? Absolutely. Smart? Debatable.

Then Marshal Vespera’s orders came through loud and clear: the 4th Corps would establish a defensive line while the rest of the 9th Corps was jumping into the fray alongside the Eleventh and Twelfth Legions.

The numbers weren’t exactly cheering anyone up. The Imperials had a whopping 300,000 troops, while we in the Shiena Kingdom had about half that, 150,000. The only thing keeping us in the game was our defensive positions. Those walls were doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

Still, things weren’t looking great. The 1st and 2nd Corps were holding steady, 50,000 soldiers each, doing their thing. But the 6th and 7th Corps? They were stuck in a brutal siege, and their losses were piling up faster than anyone liked.

Honestly, the whole battlefield felt like one giant balancing act. A small win here, a big loss there, it was exhausting just to think about. But no one said defending a kingdom was easy.

I didn’t get a promotion after the battle, not that I was expecting one. Brigadier General Devon, Cedric’s aide, pulled me aside to explain why.

“There are already plenty of officers and soldiers grumbling about how quickly you’ve been climbing the ranks,” he said, folding his arms. “This achievement should quiet them down for now. But another promotion would be to throw fuel on the fire.”

Fair enough, I guess. It’s not like I’m here for shiny medals anyway.

Lura, though? She got promoted from Second Lieutenant to First Lieutenant. Well deserved, too. Everyone saw what she did out there, especially Brigadier General Lily. The way she handled her magic left even the senior officers impressed. It’s not every day you see an elf bending storms like it’s second nature.

Honestly, seeing her get that recognition felt pretty good. At least someone got rewarded properly for all the chaos we went through.

She was technically still my aide, but now with a fancier title. It didn’t really change much day to day.

I was in my room, enjoying some rare peace and quiet, when a knock on the door pulled me back to reality.

“Enter,” I called out, already dreading whatever it was.

Lura stepped in, looking sharp in her office uniform. She saluted, probably something she’d picked up during her whirlwind of promotions and training.

“Major Aria, Brigadier General Devon has requested that you decide on your last name.”

The formality threw me for a second. People usually just called me Lady Aria, or plain Aria if they were feeling casual. Only higher ups called me Major. Hearing someone other than them with respect felt... off.

But back to the point, my last name.

“I don’t have one, and I don’t plan on making one,” I replied with a sigh.

It wasn’t entirely true. I had a last name once, but that name came from parents who sold me into slavery. Keeping it felt like carrying around a badge of shame, so I’d made an excuse of "forgetting" it.

“Please, Major Aria,” Lura pressed. “When an officer reaches the rank of Major, they’re granted the title of Viscount. And for a noble, a last name is essential.”

“A noble with no land or power,” I muttered under my breath.

The noble system was a mess, but it went down to five ranks: baron, viscount, count, marquess, and duke. There were only three ways to climb that ladder: inherit a title, perform something extraordinary to catch the king’s attention, or make your way up the military ranks.

Apparently, I’d managed the third route. Too bad it came with baggage like this. Military officers-turned-nobles had zero power, just hollow titles tossed around to make people more motivated to climb the ranks.

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“Silverlock,” I said, blurting out the first thing that popped into my head. “My name will be Aria Silverlock.”

Honestly, I just mixed "silver," inspired by my hair color, and "lock," because warlocks sounded cool. It wasn’t the most original, but it’d do the job.

Lura nodded but didn’t leave. “There’s one more thing, Major Aria,” she said.

I groaned inwardly. Of course, there was. “What now?”

“The 5th Research Division has sent the MPA 63 prototypes, 50 armors in total. They’ve already arrived.”

I blinked, stunned. “Already?”

“Yes,” Lura confirmed. “Brigadier General Devon requested that you oversee their distribution to replace the old MPA 62 units.”

Great. Just what I needed, more responsibility piled on top of an already overloaded schedule.

“Fine,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Let’s get it done.”

“Fine,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Let’s get it done.”

The MPA units had already been trimmed in their original size thanks to my reckless charge. In a way, that might make things easier, but it didn’t mean I felt confident about it.

This new version, the MPA 63, had only taken one month to develop. One month! Even in a fantasy world, that kind of speed was ridiculous. And considering the endless tweaks and requests I’d made during its design phase, I was almost certain these things were going to be unstable.

“Let’s hope the new MPA 63 doesn’t explode…” I muttered under my breath, half-joking and half-expecting disaster.

[(0)]

When I arrived at the supply depot, Major Deryk, who I could technically call my friend and an easygoing officer who was more serious in battle than he let on, was already waiting for me.

“So, the rumors about the elf are true!” he said with a laugh. “Never thought I’d see an elf in the military, but I guess if someone likes you here, anything’s possible.”

“Yes, yes,” I replied dryly, not in the mood for his banter. “I never expected you to be here of all places, either.”

“Well, I got reassigned to the supply unit, and we picked up the MPA 63s from the capital about a week ago. You wouldn’t believe how fast we had to march to deliver these things on time.”

That little detail sent a fresh wave of dread through me. If they’d already picked the units up a week ago, that meant these prototypes had been slapped together in even less time than I’d thought.

“Anyway,” Deryk continued, completely oblivious to my growing anxiety, “I was impressed you made so many demands to Dr. Felix, the former prince. If it were me, I’d just nod and say yes to whatever he wanted.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit cra—wait, what?” I froze, staring at him. “What are you talking about? Dr. Felix, a prince? His name’s completely different!”

Deryk’s grin widened, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Oh, yeah. He changed his last name to his mother’s family name, Mareth. That’s actually another Duke household. But yeah, he was a Crown Prince before he quit the fight for the throne and decided to focus on research. Turns out he’s a genius.”

My brain screeched to a halt. The polished, noble, handsome, and totally normal image I’d had of a prince shattered into a million pieces.

A former Crown Prince? And no one thought to mention this to me?

“That explains way too much,” I muttered, trying to process the bombshell while silently questioning every interaction I’d ever had with the man.

“Anyway, look at this.” Deryk gestured to one of the boxes, motioning for me and Lura, who was standing quietly behind me, to follow.

With a quick flick, he opened the box, revealing the MPA 63.

Unlike the bulky, heavy armor of the MPA 62, this one was sleek, almost like a bodysuit. It looked impossibly light, hugging the body perfectly with straps for dual swords at the back. But most strikingly, it had the vibe of something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

“This thing’s built for speed, not brute power,” Deryk explained, pulling it out and holding it up for me to see. “It was designed specifically for you. Oh, and Dr. Felix wanted me to tell you to make sure you get plenty of practice before taking it into battle.”

“Why?” I asked, already slipping into the armor with Lura’s help. It fit snugly, almost too perfectly, like it was an extension of my own body.

“You’ll see,” Deryk said with a sly grin. “Just try channeling your mana into your feet.”

Curious, I did as he instructed. The moment I directed my mana downward, there was a metallic clunk, and suddenly, a pair of wheels appeared on the sides of the boots, like roller skates but sleeker.

“Wow…” I murmured, staring down in awe. My admiration quickly turned into a scream as the boots activated, propelling me forward at a breakneck speed.

It felt like being strapped to a rocket. The world blurred past me as I zoomed uncontrollably, faster than I’d ever imagined.

“The more mana you put in, the faster you’ll go!” Deryk shouted from somewhere behind me. “If you want to stop, just stop channeling your mana!”

I heard him, at least, I think I did, but I was too busy screaming to respond. My uncontrolled sprint came to an abrupt end when I collided face-first with the nearest wall, leaving a very artistic imprint of myself on its surface.

For a moment, I just lay there, stunned. The only sound was the distant laughter of Deryk and unmistakably, a sound of holding a laughter from Lura.

That day, rumors began spreading about why one of the barrack walls suddenly had my face imprinted on it. Strangely, no one ever figured out the truth.