Chapter 7: Lost and Alone

The storm lasts well over a day.

Leon doesn’t particularly mind it; he’s slept in ACs before in his past life as Leos Klein during a few jobs, and he learned to get used to the tight space and lack of comforts very quickly. In fact, he very much preferred the safety of an AC cockpit rather than his bed or bunk.

Yes, it was tight. Yes, it was uncomfortable. But it was armored, tough, and if anything didn’t kill you before you woke up they would then be facing a very angry Raven in a multi-ton 6 meter tall warmachine. He remembered the few times he had to sleep in his mech during a mission and was interrupted by a few enterprising idiots who thought they could kill him and take his custom mech. It was so funny to watch them run like hell when the AC turned to them. Good times.

So it is that Leon Fou Bartford goes to sleep in his tight Light MT, sheer fatigue overpowering the noise of the storm. It’s light and dreamless, just enough for him to be properly rested for the coming set of challenges and issues.

He wakes up hours later to find the storm partially dissipated in the distance, he and the isle he hid in left floating in clear late-morning skies. He cast his vision left and right, looking for the familiar silhouettes of the Bartford fleet’s ships. He finds none, and lets out a sigh.

Thankfully, there’s a flat-enough isle nearby; close enough for him to fly to and land. From there, he opens his cockpit and damn near falls out.

“Ah, fuck–!” he curses, feeling the cramps and popping the cricks in his joints. “Oh god, I forgot how much it sucked to sleep in a mech…! Ahh, Saint’s ass, this sucks!”

It takes him a few minutes to stretch out the kinks and get some semblance of comfort back into his limbs. Then he takes off his shirt and starts rummaging through the mech’s interior to see if there was anything he could use.

“Every MT comes with a storage chamber under the pilot’s chair for emergencies like this.” Leon muses, parsing through his past life’s memories as well as his current life’s knowledge on Armor manufacturing. “If I’m not mistaken, then it should be… aha!”

He has to pull aside a protective plate and push the seat a little deeper into the cockpit to access the storage compartment, but he manages and finds a small space half the size of his upper torso. He quickly pulls out its contents and lays it out on the ground.

A basic maintenance kit and a repair manual whose contents are only barely legible to Leon’s squinting eyes. A 5-shot revolver with 15 bullets. A dull knife, thick and sturdy. A full canteen with detachable cup. Some jerky and dried fruits. And his custom rifle and assault shotgun. Leon beholds his haul and double checks the storage hold again just to be safe.

He sighs and sits down in the shade of his mech, beholding his haul of goods and doing some mental gymnastics to see how long he can ration these.

“Welp.” he closes his eyes. “Not gonna get out of here just sitting around.”

=X=X=X=X=

An Armored Core and a Muscle Tracer weren’t too different if you squint.

ACs were built to replace MTs after all, and even after they were phased out many corporations still used MTs as the bulk of their workforce. It was simple, it got the job done, and so it didn’t need to be changed any more than it had to be. As such, their internals are much simpler than an AC’s.

It is still a giant pain in the ass to fix, though. Leon can attest to that as he works on the internals of the mech, doing what he can to get this hunk of metal moving again without it falling apart.

“Shitty fucking MT-grade flight boosters,” he rants as he reattaches a fuel line to the mech’s reactor. “Stupid twig-thin hydraulics, no internal armoring beyond the cockpit, no reinforcements to the frame beyond the bare minimum to get this thing to move without falling apart, no back or shoulder mounted weapons–” he pulls out of the reactor chamber and kicks the mech. “Fucking junk heap. You’re lucky I need you to get home or else, I’d just dump you in a ditch and walk.”

The Armor is silent, head bowing in seemingly contrite acceptance as Leon huffs at it.

“Screw this, I need a minute.” he grunts, tossing his tools to the side and walking off as he stretched his arms. “Haaaaaahhh…”

The isle he wound up on is small, barely big enough to count as one instead of a giant floating boulder. It has no vegetation besides grass, no animals, no water sources– just rocks and dust.

He wanders over to the far side of the isle, hands on his hips as he surveys the landscape. His gaze sweeps across the horizon looking for familiar landmarks with which he can use to fly home; however slowly such a journey may be. He squints at the unfamiliar floating rock formations and spots a small pack of monsters fly out from behind one such rock formation. Towards him.

“Damn it.” he sighs, turning around and jogging back to his mech. “No rest for the wicked.”

=X=X=X=X=X=

The Armor didn’t come with a navigation system, which made sense and pissed Leon off by no small measure. Companies would have wanted to keep costs low and profits high, and it wasn’t as though mechs were meant for scouting and reconnaissance; they were too big and obvious and shiny. Of course they would be relegated to escort and anti-ship duties. Which meant that any mech that found itself separated and lost from their ship or squadron mates meant that they were essentially lost; precisely the situation Leon now finds himself in.

He has no idea where the Bartford Barony is, or where the closest bit of civilization lies. Stuck out in uncharted territory with no recognizable landmarks to guide him home, he has to make do with guesswork and gut instinct; hopping from one floating to another, and stopping at isles to rest and plan.

He goes hungry most of the time, with only a mouthful of jerky and dried fruits a day to keep him going. He eventually fashions a spear, and uses it to hunt game to supplement his diet. There’s not much to go around, though, so he does his best to make it last.

Water is another issue; out here among the floating isles, it is scarce. And his pathetic magic talent means he couldn’t just magic up water on demand. So he makes sure to ration what he has, taking little gulps when absolutely necessary and forgoing baths. Finding a spring or stream is a reason to celebrate and cheer, and an excuse to take a quick rinse to wash off the grime and sweat from a day’s travels.

Leon sleeps in his mech most nights, with the cockpit closed and the engine running on idle. This saved him a few times as monsters attacked his mech while he slept, but he thankfully dealt with them quickly and without much fanfare despite losing an arm and his rifle.

He encounters monsters in his journey; fish that swam through the air, eagles with four wings and two talons, and dragonflies as big and large dogs. He fights them all, but only Juvenile and Adult types, though. As good as his shotgun is and despite his mech, Old monsters were currently beyond his reach and were no doubt strong enough to turn him and his ride into lifeless heaps.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

And on top of all that was the mech itself. Armors were not meant for prolonged use like this; their internals were meant for short periods of high-stress use. They were not designed for long-term operation, and that begins to show; errors starting to crop up as the days go by without any sign of relief and proper in-depth maintenance. Already damaged from his fights during the monster culling, the Armor’s systems start to degrade and its internals begin rusting. Even his mech’s reactor starts acting up, the recharge time increasing as it’s gradually pushed past its limits without dedicated maintenance or repairs.

Two weeks of this pass, with Leon flying from isle to isle, floating rock to floating rock. Persisting onwards if only out of sheer spite and unwavering determination, as the same traits that carried him through his quest for revenge against Hustler One.

He refuses to give up, to die in the middle of nowhere in a shit mech. He would find a dungeon and clear it if he had to; he’d do whatever he needs to do to get back to his family.

Leon should have known that Murphy is ever-hearing.

=X=X=X=X=X=

On the 18th day of his journey, Leon is barely scraping by.

His canteen barely has any water left. The last of his jerky and stored cooked game meat had been eaten a day ago. His mech is falling apart at the seams, to the point where he had to sever the speakers to shut up the god-awful alarm klaxon blaring into his ears. Its reactor is red-hot, having long since been pushed past all possible safety limits. He guesses there’s not much life left in it before it explodes from overuse.

But still he flies, continues to push his luck despite his circumstances. Because stopping means death, and death was not an outcome he would accept so long as he could act against it.

“Come on baby, just a little further.” Leon coaxes the machine as it splutters in the air, thrusters working desperately to keep it airborne. “The next isle at least. C’mon, you can do that much at least, right?”

The flashing red light does little to positively answer his urging.

//ENERGY AT 30%// his mech warns him.

“It’s always at 30%, damn it.” Leon grumps. “Alright, alright, there’s a nice floating rock down there. Let’s touch down and let you recharge.”

The Armor flies true and sets down a little shakily on a floating rock, a blemish of black-brown stone against a backdrop of soft, almost fluffy, white clouds. Leon slumps into his seat as he pans the mech’s visual sensors, looking for another place to fly towards and touchdown on; preferably with vegetation that he could use to make a boat out of.

Even if the mech is too damaged to fly, it would still have its Float stone– he could use it to keep whatever vessel he makes airborne as he figures out how to keep it attached.

There is the issue of removing it from the mech itself, but that’s an issue for future Leon. Present Leon only has to survive long enough for it to come to pass.

“Hm. Don’t think anyone’s ever been here, yet.” Leon muses, noting the modestly sized floating island not too far from him; sporting a large hill covered in untouched greenery. “Might make for a good place to expand to when I get this back to dad. Hell, there’s even a nice floating island here; prime real estate.”

He laughs, partly at his humor and partly to try and keep his spirits up. Look at him, being so confident– with no food or so little water left in his ship, he might as well fly out into the open air, shut off his mech’s engines, and fall into the abyss. It would’ve been quick, easy, and he’d finally get this farce over and done with.

But then he remembers his family, his siblings, and the choice he made years ago to his brother Nicks. He would change things in Holfort, make things fairer for men and women, so that no-one would have to work so hard for so little.

Leon takes a deep breath and steels himself.

“I’m not kicking it here.” he tells himself. “There’s still work to do, people to save and a society to change. If I leave anything in this life, let it be something good.”

He glances at the energy gauge, 77%. Good enough.

“Alright.” he tells himself, igniting the boosters. “Let’s see how far I can fly with these borrowed wings.”

His Armor takes off, speeding towards the floating island in the distance. It is close enough that Leon figures he can make it without needing to stop and recharge, and as his armor nears he finds his confidence building. He could make it, no sweat.

Then his mech explodes.

It’s not a big explosion– just a small one that heralds a lost of parts rather than complete destruction. Leon glances at the mech’s readings, finding that the Armor’s starboard flight array has undergone an explosive malfunction; effectively halving the Armor’s flight capability.

Leon curses as the mech lurches. It wobbles through the sky, trailing black smoke and sparks and flame.

“I should’ve fucking known you’d give out at the worst possible moment! And after I gave that badass quote, too!” Leon curses, wrestling the controls to try and keep the mech on course towards the floating island. “When I land this fucking thing, I’m gonna piss on your goddamn chassis!”

//WARNING, DAMAGE CRITICAL–//

“I noticed!” Leon roars back, straining against the controls. “C’mon, you half-dead piece of shit– work with me!”

The mech tilts to one side as Leon adjusts its stance to compensate for the lack of even boosting, remaining on course towards the island. It looks stupid, what with the mech tilted almost sideways as its flight system worked double time to stay airborne. But, as the saying goes; if it’s stupid but it works, then it’s not stupid.

Red lights flash and warning klaxons blare. Leon glances to the side and notes the overheating

“It’s right fucking there, damn it! Come on!” Leon jostles about in his seat, such was the anticipation and dread in his stomach as the very edge of the island loomed closer. “Come ooooooooooonnnnnnn, get it! Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get it–!”

Another explosion rattles the mech as the port flight array malfunctions.

But the explosion is strong enough to propel the mech forward, clearing the remaining open space to land on the island.

Leon immediately opens the hatch, snatches his custom guns, and bolts out. He runs as fast as he can towards the treeline as a loud whine starts to build from the mech, the reactor reaching its breaking point after more than 2 weeks of non-stop use.

The young man keeps running, reinforcing his legs with magic as he sprints between the trees; trying to put as much distance between himself and the Armor as he could before it inevitably goes up in flames. He had no clue how big of an explosion a magic-based power source could cause when they overloaded, but he didn’t want to find out.

He throws himself to the dirt as the building whine reaches a crescendo and detonates in a flash of blue-white light. A moment later, the shockwave hits and shakes the trees; scattering birds as loose leaves fall all over Leon. The young man sits up and blinks in the direction of the explosion.

“Huh. That was weaker than I expected.” he muses, turning to the greenery around him “Well then, lets see what we have to deal with here…”