Chapter 1: Leon Fou Bartford

Leos Klein was never a religious man.

In his past life, he was an atheist and remained one up until the day of his death in Phobos. But he knew of faith, understood their significance to others and knew what they preached and represented. He knew of sins and virtues, of afterlives being dependent on how good or bad of a person you were in life. And he knew of reincarnation, of the soul transmigrating across time and space to be reborn as someone else.

So when he said he hoped that death would bring him to a better place in his last moments, he hadn’t expected this.

Floating islands, airships, magic. It was as though he was reborn in a fantasy world straight out of a child’s storybook. But he had seen stranger things as a Raven in his old life, and if these were the only things he had to worry about, then he might have been able to adapt and live easier.

But no, karma had to punish him for the things he did in his past life. And so this magical fantasy land had a feudal system where women hold greater social influence than men, with misandry and classism running rampant; specifically against men of lower social status on the feudal totem pole.

So to be born a man, the third son to be exact, of a Baron’s mistress? It was not a death sentence, but it did make his future prospects as an adult quite… daunting.

But it was a new life, away from greedy corporations and cutthroat competition, in a land where honest effort and good intentions would ultimately be rewarded.

...if slowly. At great expense. And with no small amount of luck. And–

Leos Klein, now 13-year-old Leon Fou Bartford, smacks himself on the face and continues to till the earth before him.

Whatever. The fact of the matter is that this life was much better than his old one. Tiring and full of prejudice, yes, but peaceful.

“Monster attack!” a panicked voice yells. “Take cover!”

Well. Peaceful enough, anyway.

With a sigh, Leon drops his hoe and rushes over to the sounds of battle. He runs through crowds of fleeing workers and merges into the force of guards as they move to where the din of combat and monstrous shrieking is loudest. He sees a man being flung away, landing in a groaning heap. Leon immediately diverts his course and helps drag the rifleman behind cover as the fight intensifies between the monsters and his family guards.

He supposed this was another form of karmic punishment; having lived the life he did, death and conflict would never truly leave him. Even here, he would have to have to ply his trade and fight.

At least these targets were well-deserving of their death.

“There you go. Stay still and wait until the fighting’s over.” Leon tells the man, patting his shoulder with one hand as the other takes his rifle and ammunition pack. “I’ll be borrowing your rifle and ammo, though.”

“Heh. Kick some monster ass, kid.” the man grins. Leon grins back before running into battle.

The monsters look like artistic hybrids of falcons and snakes; a flock of them circling the docks, numbering little over a dozen strong. They swoop in atop feathery wings to lash out at men with talon and fang, nimbly avoiding magic and gunfire.

Compared to a moving Armored Core, they’re painfully slow.

Leon takes a knee, sucks in a breath, picks his target, aims ahead of where they move, and shoots. The gun kicks hard against his shoulder, but the falcon-serpent he shot seizes up in the air and plummets to the ground. Too easy.

He stays kneeling, shooting monsters out of the sky while the guards keep their attention. His bullets strike true; downing 3, 4, 5, 6 more for the flying fiends and motivating the guards to fight harder. His gun clicks empty and he’s forced to reload, calloused fingers moving with a lifetime’s worth of skill. In no time, his rifle is loaded again and he resumes downing the flying monsters.

The remainder see him, and start flying to him.

Leon holds his ground, picking off monsters out of the sky as the guards scramble for him; yelling at him to get clear. They have the best of intentions, yes, but come on! It’s not like this is his first time dealing with monsters!

The biggest one in the flock and the last one left screech-roars and dives in, talons bared. Leon hits it with two rounds before he rolls to the side, narrowly dodging the attack. He tracks the monster as it climbs, mind calculating where it would be diving next and waiting for the perfect shot.

His target screech-roars again and banks left, entering another dive towards Leon. But he already has its trajectory nailed, and fires once.

The bullet strikes home and the beast looses a fading screech-roar as it smashes into the dirt and slides to Leon’s feet, slowing as it nears. The young man raises a foot and stops it just before it reaches him and his boots. Cheers go up as the guards finally reach him, awed and impressed at his capabilities.

“Yeah! Way to go, Leon!” a guard cheers. “You’re an artist with a rifle!”

“Heh. What can I say?” he lets his gun rest on his shoulder, grinning at the praise. “It’s all the training I do.”

“Hah! Modest, too!” another guard laughs, patting his back. “You’d make a good adventurer, y’know!”

“I hope so. I think I’ll focus on that before I do any spouse searching once I get to the Academy.” Leon smiles, clapping his hands. “But it’s not quite over yet everybody. Let's do a full sweep of the property and make sure everything’s clear before we–”

“Leon!” comes his father’s voice, worry and anger mixing together. “Are you alright?!”

He turns to the current head of the Bartford family, Barcus Fou Bartford as he marches towards him. He’s taller, taller than Leon, with a barrel-wide chest and powerful arms. He sports a stubble over a strong jawline, and a head of healthy black hair with streaks of gray coming through; the signs of age, stress, and overwork.

Despite that he carries himself with the air of a seasoned warrior and the pride of an honest noble, and Leon respected it. Perhaps more so given the life he previously lived. It holds even as the older man gets within arm’s reach and starts ruffling his hair.

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“Ack! Dad, stop!” Leon complains, arms flailing.

“That’s for being reckless again in live combat!” Barcus barks. “Holding still and not falling back– you didn’t even have a sword on you! What did you think would happen if you missed and the monster bit into you?!”

“I-I had it under control!” Leon protests, drawing to reach out and grab his father’s short beard. “Gah! Let go!”

“Ow! You little–!” the older man growls, intensifying his hair ruffling even as Leon lightly tugs at his beard. “I’ll have you run laps after you finish tilling the soil, brat! Let go!”

The men around them burst into laughter, father and son eventually separating once they had their fill. Leon accepts a soft smack to the head as he and his father straighten themselves out.

“Report.” Barcus orders.

“My lord.” one of the men bow. “The east docks came under attack by another swarm of monsters. We were able to kill them all this time though, and suffered no losses on our part.” he pats Leon’s shoulder. “Your son picked them off while we kept their attention off of him. He’s a good shot.”

“He better be; all those bullets he shot during his training better have been worth it.” Barcus sniffs. “What’s the damage?”

“We lost some barrels and Slip 3 on the main dock has light damage to the decking, but because the wood’s old then damage has compounded on itself.” the lead guard reports. “We’ll need to close it off for the time being until it can be repaired.”

“Damn. Alright, close off Slip 3 and get started on the repairs.” Barcus orders. “How many more men can we spare for guard duty?”

“Plenty.” the lead guard nods. “But we won’t have enough rifles and ammunition to keep it up for long.”

“We’ll make do.” Barcus nods. “Get to it. Leon, with me.”

“Yessir.” Leon nods, walking after his father as the guards get to work.

He waits until they are out of earshot from the guards and in the Bartford Manor just to be safe, before he starts talking.

“This is the third attack in two weeks, dad.” Leon starts.

“I know. The monster population has gone up far too quickly for my liking; it’s only been two months since the last cull, they shouldn’t be reproducing so quickly.” Barcus sighs. “We might need to go on another cull just to be safe.”

“Do we have the ammunition and ships to spare?” Leon asks. “Most of our better vessels are out delivering trade to the neighboring baronies, and they have a good third of our total munitions stock. If we go on a cull now, it’ll be really risky.”

“Have you been snooping around the inventory again?” Bracus raises a brow.

“I figured I might as well do something with my free time besides studying and training.” Leon shrugs, shamelessly admitting to the supposed wrong-doing. “I’m keeping up with the advanced material in the tutoring lessons I’m attending anyway. And as fun as training is, static targets and the same volunteers kind of make things feel stale.”

“So you snooped around doing number work instead?” Barcus grins. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to take over Nicks’ place as the next family head.”

“And get stuck behind a dusty old desk running numbers and talking to fellow Barons? No thanks.” Leon snorts. “I’d rather be an adventurer than get chained to a desk.”

“You’ll learn, young man, that desk work can be plenty rewarding as well. You just have to get into the right mindset for it and find a proper reward for your efforts.” Barcus lectures. “I know you’re still young, but life is more than just shooting bullets and swinging swords.”

Leon thinks back to his past life as Leos Klein. He remembers the bureaucratic work of needing to manage the world after the fall of Raven’s Nest, the alliances he needed to forge to bring the world back to some semblance of peace, the paperwork he had to fill out in order to authorize and start the first missions to space, which eventually evolved into the initial forays and colonization efforts of Mars. He remembers all the monotonous boredom of having to do seemingly endless amounts of paperwork, and snorts.

He snorts. Even in this life, he very much prefers battle over boring politics.

“Then let this wayward son of yours enjoy his youth a little longer father dearest.” Leon waxes. “Oh, how heartless are you to– ow!”

“That’s enough out of you.” he sniffs, pulling back the hand that smacked Leon’s head. “Come along now son, your mother must have worried herself half to death when the alarms rang out.”

“Bah, she’s got Collin and Finley to tide herself over. Jenna’s probably hiding under the bed in her room.” Leon snorts, rubbing the spot where he got smacked. “Did you have to hit me, though?”

“I was your age, once. Some things stick better with some physical encouragement.” Barcus nods knowingly, secure in his adult wisdom.

“You didn’t even say anything–” is all Leon gets before a small form tackles his legs. “Ah, hey Collin.”

“Are you okay, bro?” the youngest Bartford asks, eyes glimmering. “You were outside when the monsters attacked, weren’t you? Did you see them?”

“I’ll do you one better; I fought them and won.” Leon smiles, ruffling a hand through his hair. “Did you do your job and look after mom?”

“I did!” Collin beams. “Just like you and dad told me to!”

“Atta boy.” Barcus grins. “And your sisters?”

“Oh, they weren’t with me and mom; I think they hid somewhere else in the house.” the boy shrugs. “They’re okay though! Mom called for them and they answered!”

“Good grief, those two little imps.” Leon sighs.

“They’re still your sisters Leon, don’t talk about them like that.” Barcus chides.

“I’m not wrong though, they are imps.” Leon grouses. “No-good ungrateful little devils with crummy little thieving hands– ow! Dad!”

Barcus just sighs as he walks off into the kitchen. Leon and Collin follow, one sulking and the other snickering at his expense.

But despite this unconventional family life, the odd customs of this country, the unfair social and societal standards for men, Leon couldn’t help but feel hopeful.

It would be a hard life filled with tiring work, but… given all the things he’s done in his past life as Leos Klein, he couldn’t ask for a better way to atone. Whatever higher power existed deigned to give him this second chance, this blank slate. He’d make sure not to waste it.