Chapter 4: Man VS Monster

Leon settles at his post in the crow’s nest after having completed the last of the preparatory work needed of him on the ship itself; issued ammunition, a sword and revolver as backup weapons, and a communicator to remain in contact with the rest of the ship when the fighting starts.

He keeps his personal guns close, two custom firearms he had commissioned the local blacksmith to make and had personally assembled. The old smith was more than happy to take on his request and was suitably impressed at Leon managing to assemble the parts into two fully functioning weapons.

The first is a large caliber sniper rifle, modeled after the Arctic Warfare Magnum. Though such a weapon couldn’t have been made with this world’s level of technology, magic was able to make up for that shortcoming; with enchanted internal mechanisms and more fantasy materials compensating for the lack of more advanced gunsmithing methods.

The second is a shotgun, modeled after the Saiga-12. With the presence of shotguns in this world (however curious such a thing may have been for Leon), only a brief redesign of the reload system was needed so the manual pump-reload system was replaced with a gas-operated one instead. Not that the smith knew that; Leon only instructed him to make the parts.

Many were the stares he got from the men and his own family at the sight of him letting loose with a full-auto shotgun at the range, but it was worth it. Once he got enough money, he’d commission a proper auto-loading rifle next; the parts of which would allow him to dominate the weapon manufacturing market and then–

He forced himself to calm down and focus.

–no, no; he wouldn’t be able to implement it. Not while his marriage contract still holds and he had no way to overcome it. With what little time he has left, Leon will need to prepare for a life in the military and try not to die until he is discharged; just to spite the wrinkled old hag who thought she could profit from his demise.

It… rankled him a little, to think that he’d be forced into fighting other people’s wars once more. It was no different than his life as Leos Klein; only this time he would be chained to the will of another and made to fight for only one cause, the glory of the kingdom.

He snorts. What a load of shit– there was no glory to be found on the battlefield. Only death and many, many regrets.

This he knew as a Ninebreaker, a Raven, and a revolutionary of Mars.

But he had no real choice in the matter. It’s not like he had any idea where to find a big enough stash of treasure to pay off Zola with, nor could he wrangle up enough money on his own; dungeon diving could only provide so much and the his own ideas needed both time and capital to bring into fruition, and he had neither.

As much as it rankled him to follow through with the marriage contract, Leon had no other recourse.

He would have to comply and do what he could to survive. Thankfully, he had his previous life’s skills to draw upon so his chances were much higher than they could be, and the mandatory military enlistment period is only 3 years; practically a blink of an eye. He would survive, and he would return to his family alive and whole.

Then he’d start plotting out how to get back at Zola and remove her parasitic presence from his family. Preferably in a permanent manner.

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by his communicator crackling.

“Leon, come in.” his father’s voice buzzes. “The fleet is almost in position. Anything to report?”

“Negative, the isle is as quiet as it used to be when we arrived.” Leon responds, peering through his rifle’s scope. “I am seeing some activity near the cave entrance, but nothing worrying enough to warrant immediate action.”

“What are they doing?”

“Movement, shifting against one another, but nothing else.” Leon squints. “I don’t think they’ve noticed us yet.”

“Good. We’re about to commence the culling.” Barcus’ voice pauses. “Are you nervous?”

“...a little bit.” Leon allows. “What with this being my first true military operation rather than another dungeon dive.”

“Hah. Yes, it can get a little much at times, but rest assured these sorts of things get easier with time and repetition.” Barcus chuckles. The pauses as he realizes what he’s just said. “Ah–”

“I’m sure my unwanted military career will be helpful in that regard.” Leon snorts, and he can imagine his father’s wince. “Are the Schooners in position?”

“They are. We’re just about to commence the operation.” the elder Bartford sighs. “Look, Leon–”

“We can talk about it later, dad.” Leon grunts. “As important as that is, we’ve got something just as important in the present.”

“...right. Right, okay.” Barcus exhales. “Alright, commencing the operation now.“

Leon watches as the two Armors take off from the Aurelian Hawk’s deck and assume flanking positions on the Brig’s bow and stern, to avoid the cannons of the ship’s port side as it takes aim at the cave entrance. Near the isle itself and flanking it are the two Schooners; positioned on the sides and a little above the isle, their cannons all moved to one side and pointed down slightly. The angle they took would prevent friendly fire and avoid damage to the Armors and the Hawk.

A perfect field of overlapping fire.

The two mechs bring up their rifles, sight the cave entrance, and fire.

Immediately, screeching fills the air; the combined noise of all the monsters within, agitated by the sudden interference.

‘Here they come…’ Leon thinks.

The monsters pour out. Dozens of them, appearing like clouds of dark feathers and glinting talons. They spot the Hawk and let out a keening cry, prompting more of their kind to surge outwards. Too many for Leon to make out, but definitely numbering over a hundred; all of them racing towards the Bartford Family bring and the two Armors standing guard over it.

A green light flashes in Leon’s peripheral vision.

On cue, one of the Schooners’ broadsides light up. A fraction of a second later, shrapnel and palm-sized metal balls tear through the horde of monsters. Dozens go down, a good two thirds disintegrating into nothing as their lives are taken. Yet a good number remain to continue their charge forward; animalistic in their fury.

“Rifles, ready! Fire!” Barcus’ loud voice orders, audible even up from Leon’s post atop the main mast. “Armors, keep them off of us!”

Cracks of gunfire and flashes of fill the air as the crew and two Armors open fire on the approaching monsters with spell and bullet. Leon pitches in, sniping falcon-snakes out of the air in twos and threes with every shot. More go down, a few of them nonetheless reach the ship; prompting melee battles to erupt.

More monsters come from the cave, another hundred. In their midst, Leon sees it; the large bulk of an Old monster, a falcon-snake grown to the size of an Armor.

“Dad, second wave inbound!” Leon reports. “Old monster spotted!”

He doesn’t get a response, but another light flashes past his peripheral vision; blue.

The second Schooner looses its broadside, felling many of the smaller monsters from the sky; mainly Adults and Juveniles. Again, two thirds of the horde go down, but a good number survive alongside the Old falcon-snake. It screech-roars, a sound that sends the remaining fodder monsters into a berserk frenzy as they screech back and speed up.

Leon snipers where he can, downing threes and fours with precise shots of his rifle, but there’s simply too many moving targets. A few spot him atop the mast and fly to him, screeching.

“Taking fire!” Leon reports, swapping his rifle for his shotgun. “Engaging!”

The assault shotgun eviscerates most of the monsters surrounding him, with a stubborn handful managing to fly around his arc of fire to peck and claw at him.

Leon draws his backup sword and starts swinging as he shoots; more to deter the close-range fliers than to actually hit them. God, this was so much easier in an AC!

Another loud screech-roar draws Leon’s attention to the Old monster engaging one of the Armors, rushing into melee to claw at the mech’s armor and managing to punch through with its talons. The other mech does its best to help its fellow, but there’s only so much it can do with a bolt action rifle and following its orders to help stall the remaining monster horde.

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Then, another screech-roar. Loud and strong, just like the one let out by the Old falcon-snake currently fighting the mech… but from the cave.

“Saint’s Breath–” Leon gasps as yet more monsters pour out of the cave, as well as a second Old monster. “Dad! More monsters! And a second Old monster leading them!”

“What?! How– fuck!” Barcus curses. ”Ready broadside! Fire on my command! Leon, get down from there!”

“Can’t! A little busy!” Leon answers, shooting down another gaggle of monsters before resuming his sniping duties. “Dad, fire!”

“Not yet!” Barcus says. “We need to kill as many of them as we can with this volley, or else we’ll be overwhelmed!”

“We’re already overwhelmed!” Leon points out, doing his best to send rifle rounds down range as fast as he could. “Dad!”

“Wait!” Barcus orders. “Wait…!”

The second Old monster lets out another screech-roar that drives the fodder berserk. Leon curses as they double time it to the ship, hissing and snarling all the way–

“Fire!”

The Aurelian Hawk’s broadside is thunderous and loud. White smoke puffs out from the cannons and a large chunk of the fodder monsters go down, and Leon estimates a good two-thirds were wiped out from the volley. A cheer goes up from the crew down below, and even the reincarnated Raven finds himself joining his voice with theirs as the other Armor surges forward and fights the second Old monster.

There were still fodder monsters present, but their numbers have been reduced significantly after the three volleys of grapeshot. And with Armors keeping the two Old monsters busy, it would give the crew enough time to deal with the fodder and assist with proper cannon fire.

This fight was all but won now, and Leon moves to climb down and help with the battle on the deck–

A third screech-roar comes out of the cave. The cheers quiet as a third Old monster emerges from the cave, bringing with it dozens of berserking fodder monsters.

“No…” Leon finds himself saying. “No, this… No!”

“Leon, get down here now!” Barcus orders. “Evacuate into the ship’s interior! We stand a better chance at fighting off these monsters in enclosed spaces!”

“And what about the third giant monster that’s flying our way?!” Leon demands, even as he grabs a rope and slides down to the deck. His shotgun barks twice and two groups of monsters harassing some crew members go down. “We don’t have time to reload the cannons!”

“We have to try, damn it!” the Bartford patriarch says, and Leon spots him bisecting three falcon-snakes with one swing of his sword. “Cannoneers, load more grapeshot! Armors, kill those monsters and stall the rest!”

Leon rushes over to his father, shooting as he moves and dragging downed sailors back to their feet before ushering them below deck. His shotgun reaps a grim tally on the monsters, but it’s not enough. Yet more swarm in, driven to berserk fury by the urging of their elders.

“Dad!” Leon shouts, gunning down another three falcon-snakes as he reaches his father at the poop deck. “Below deck, let’s go! Come on!”

Barcus looks at him, his clothes sporting holes where the monsters’ talons managed to reach and from several small cuts where those same talons broke through skin. It stands as a testament to the man’s combat prowess and swordsmanship that these were the sole extent of his injuries. He doesn’t even seem too bothered by the injuries, simply nodding at his son and moving with him as he continues to speak into his communicator.

“Captain Derek, Captain Joshua, get your guns loaded and ready to fire! I’m ordering every man below deck so they’re shielded from the grapeshot, do you read?!” Barcus orders. “Captains, come in!”

“What the hell’s going on with the communicators? They were working fine a minute ago!” Leon demands, blasting away yet more monsters to cover the crew rushing over to the below deck hatch. “It can’t be the storm, it still hasn’t hit us yet!”

“It must be the monsters; there’s so many of them that they’re disrupting comms.” Barcus snarls, cutting down two more monsters with his sword; covering for Leon’s lack of close-range protection. “Light the flares! Both green and blue! Get them to shoot!”

“Hey!” Leon grabs a fleeing crewman. “The flares! Where are they?”

“O-On the bow! We– the monsters came in so quickly t-that we had to leave them!” the terrified sailor stammers.

“Both of them?!” Leon gawks. “How the fuck–”

A screech roar breaks through the wild hissing and chirping of the lesser monsters swarming the ship, and through the masses of fodder monsters comes two of the Old monsters; one of the two Armors in their talons.

They smash the mech onto the Aurelian Hawk’s deck and fly past. The impact rattles the ship, the wood around the mech splintering and cratering as the vessel lurches downwards. Leon stumbles and falls, not sliding off the ship thanks to his father’s firm grip on his ankle.

The two Armor-sized monsters fly past, their presence drawing a significant number of the fodder with them. Leon spots the other Armor still engaged with its own opponent, doing an admirable job keeping its attention preoccupied; which is good in that it keeps the third large monster from fighting the ship, but bad in that it still leaves the ship devoid of any screening or escorts.

And what’s worse; those monsters were turning around.

“The monsters are coming back around for a second pass!” Leon cries.

“Schooners, come in! Load grapeshot and aim at the monsters!” Barcus orders. “Thin their numbers as best you can; I’m moving the Hawk to broadside!”

“Those monsters will get here before the ship even makes it halfway!” Leon protests. “We need something to stall them!”

Barcus grits his teeth, eyes darting left and right for a solution before settling on the downed Armor laying on the Hawk’s deck. He rushes over, and Leon follows.

“Hey! Pilot, get up!” Barcus yells, reaching the mech. “The battle isn’t over yet, get out there and buy us time!”

There’s no response, and Barcus beats a clenched fist on the Armor’s cockpit. Leon beholds the mech, studying it.

He’s been to the Bartford Armor hangar a few times to run supply deliveries and inventory checks, but he hasn’t actually piloted one. He saw no reason to anyway; he wasn’t Leos Klein, this wasn’t his old world, and there were no such things as Ravens. And this world’s magic Armors weren’t a mech model he was familiar with anyway– he couldn’t have piloted it regardless.

Then he spots the telltale switch on the outside of the mech, hidden under a damaged armor plate and made in a way that only someone with opposable thumbs could grab and use. Leos Klein’s memories resurface, reminding him of his past as a Raven and how familiar he was with ACs. The familiarity comes to him now, telling him that the switch would open the cockpit.

He moves past Barcus, grabs the switch, and pulls.

The mech shudders as its torso opens, revealing the pilot inside; bleeding and gasping for breath. Barcus curses and drags him out, calling for a medic.

Leon watches the scene, but he doesn’t really hear the noises. He’s stuck staring at the interior of the Armor, memories from another life coming to him; telling him that he could pilot this mech himself and buy the Hawk enough time to present its broadside to the monsters.

Because the interior looks identical to that of a Light Muscle Tracer; the multi-purpose mech from which Armored Cores would come to replace as the standard for combat mechs.

Leos knew this, because before he became a Raven to avenge his family, he used to pilot one just like it for his work. And it was only thanks to that experience that he was able to pass the initiation to become a Raven for Raven’s Nest so long ago.

“Leon, get below deck.” Barcus orders. “I’ll pilot the Armor and stall the monsters– go!”

Leon turns to his father, and the older man starts at whatever look is on his face.

“No.” the reincarnated Raven says. “I’ll take care of it.”