Posted on February 9, 2025

CHASE 1: BATTLING

A little over an hour after entering the arena, a red lamp lit up in the dim waiting room.

– Five minutes before the match starts —

I slipped into the khaki pressure suit that was lying on the floor. I didn’t really think about it, but I was quick to do it. I knew that the match about to begin was almost certainly a battle. But I wanted to get out of this waiting room as soon as possible.

After all, it was hot. The ventilation fan continued to hum softly, but it wasn’t fulfilling its function at all. Even wearing only a thin running shirt, I was still dripping with sweat. In addition, the walls that surrounded me on all sides showed off their shiny metallic surfaces, and the discomfort index was rising rapidly.

If I could smoke a cigarette, it wouldn’t be as much of a problem. But the stinging smell of used machine oil floating in the heavy, stagnant air didn’t allow me to even do that. If I lit it, it would definitely catch fire. Even if I was lucky, it would still damage my throat, and my voice wouldn’t return to normal for two or three hours.

This waiting room was there to irritate the nerves of drifters like me, who were waiting for their match to start. After all, drifters were nothing more than enemies to the people of the city. They come to the arena to see their enemies defeated. For that reason, the waiting room is designed to rob drifters of their ability to think rationally, and drive them to self-destruction.

And this isn’t limited to Dara City. Similar cunning schemes have been employed in the many cities I’ve traveled to on the planet Melkia. Perhaps that’s why I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I’d be before my first match in this city.

With all my strength, I pulled up the fastener of my pressure suit, which was damaged in places and didn’t move smoothly. Light leaked out from the door on the corridor side. The door, with a handle its the right side, opened with a heavy, rusty sound, and a small, middle-aged man appeared.

His name was Dart Klacton. He was an impresario who made a living organizing the battling matches that took place in this arena. He was dressed shabbily, like a vagrant wandering the streets, but his oily cheeks suggested that he lived a life of luxury. I only met Klacton when we signed the contract for the battle, but I remember feeling a strong sense of dislike at the way he was sizing me up. If I had a choice, I would have preferred not to meet him again.

“What do you want?” I said coldly. With just a few minutes until the match, I didn’t want to be interfered with by others.

“I thought you’d be too chicken to show up.” He smiled sarcastically. He may have thought he had groomed himself well, but from the side it looked like he had a thick beard, and gold teeth were showing in his mouth.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said in a light tone. “How did the betting go?”

“I sold all my betting slips.” He looked at the payout sheet in his hand and continued. “Of course, there aren’t many people who would wager on a drifter like you. The odds are nine to one, and Carl Plana is your opponent.”

“He seems to be popular.”

“He’s one of the top five in terms of ability in this town.” Klacton proudly straightened his back, and the dirty cape he was wearing swayed with a dry sound. “I picked the strongest fighter in my office, like you wanted.”

“If I win, it’ll be a longshot, then.”

“Yeah, but that’s reckless. There’s a big difference between the two of you. After all, the A.T. he uses for battling is fully tuned up. It’s not like he’s a drifter who can’t even maintain his machine properly. And…” he said, trying to calm his excited tone, “you came here to make a contract without even having an A.T. That makes you either a worthless piece of trash or someone who’s done something against the rules. He’s also got a countermeasure ready.”

“Sounds interesting.” When I said that, Klacton looked grim.

“You’re a real idiot, aren’t you?” He said with a disgusted expression. “Well, I set up the match like you asked and I’ll make some money since I’ve sold all the betting slips. I guess I’ll just have to watch you lose today.”

At that moment, the shrill sound of a siren announcing the entrance of the fighters rang out.

“Get in the arena, quickly.” Klacton said with a sarcastic laugh.

I silently removed the sheet that was draped over the back of the jeep next to me. Then, a mass of steel painted blue appeared from under it.

“That…that A.T. is a Berserga…” Klacton said softly. “So, Kain McDougal. You’re the Blue Knight, aren’t you? The one who destroyed 300 A.T.s in one year…”

“That’s the ring name I’m known by,” I replied, and slid the jeep’s loading platform down to lower Berserga to the floor. A.T. Berserga. It looked like just a lump of iron, but it was undoubtedly a humanoid weapon about four meters tall.

To make it easier for the pilot to get in and out, the cockpit could be moved to within about 80 cm of the ground. For this reason, the legs, which are extraordinarily large in terms of human body balance, are supported by struts extending from the thighs and are kept in a posture called “landing” in which the front of the thighs and the lower back are in contact with the ground.

Above the waist, the part that corresponds to a human chest and abdomen is the cockpit. On top of the cockpit hatch, which has a gentle curve like the hood of a car, there’s a hemispherical head. Three sensors are attached to the support brackets installed like a face guard, creating the impression of a face. From the back of the head, a feather-like ornament that also serves as an antenna points in a large arc toward the sky.

There’s a spherical armor plate on the right shoulder. The one on the left shoulder is a single plate. Instead, a huge shield is attached to cover the left shoulder down to the fingertips. This, combined with pentagonal armor plates wrapping around both sides of the waist, give Berserga a silhouette reminiscent of an ancient knight.

That’s why I came to be called the Blue Knight. However, while many fearless A.T. riders disappear from the world of battling after only a few matches, the ring name “Blue Knight” seems to have steadily become known.

“Why did you hide this until now? And why didn’t you give your ring name?” Klacton shouted excitedly. “If they knew you were the Blue Knight, we could have brought in more customers!”

“Maybe. But the odds would be worse. I’m putting all my money on the line.”

“You’re right, even a drifter like you would probably get a payout of over 50%.” Klacton said with a frown. ”Votoms riders…you guys really are the worst, just like your name suggests. You risk your lives to make money.”

“Sorry. The 2,000 Gildan bounty you’re offering won’t even cover the cost of repairing Berserga. This is a custom type, so it’s expensive. And it’s even more expensive to refurbish.”

I grabbed the lever on the left side of Berserga’s cockpit and opened the hatch. A 20mm thick steel plate quietly slid open.

“Kain McDougal, if you need money, why don’t you team up with me?” Klacton said from behind me in a merchant-like voice. “I heard you’re pretty good. Your name alone is enough to bring in customers. How about you stay in this town? I’ll give you 5,000.”

“No.” I said stubbornly as I took out a protector with a shoulder pad from the cockpit and put it around my neck. It’s modified military surplus, but the rubber part covering the torso fits my body well. It’s saved me several times from impacts that would have shattered my ribs. The shoulder pad, which has three protrusions on its surface, is light and made of hard plastic 5mm thick, but it does a good job protecting my shoulders from bullets.

“Well then, how about it?” Klacton said in a pleading voice. “You’re gonna play a couple of matches in this town anyway, right? Can you at least let me manage them?” But I silently picked up the helmet that was thrown on the seat and put it on.

“Hey, Kain…” Klacton grabbed my arm. Contrary to his gentle voice, his palm was quite strong.

I shook off his hand and tightened my chin strap. “I’m leaving this town after this game.”

Klacton panicked. “Come on, Kain! I’m an old man who’s not gonna be around much longer. Let me make a little money.”

I didn’t care, and put my feet on the 30cm raised part of the roll bar that was attached to the front of Berserga’s cockpit, which seemed like it was crawling along the ground, and sat back onto the seat. Instantly, I could smell the sweat that had soaked into my skin.

Usually, an A.T. cockpit is extremely narrow. A 180cm person can barely fit both shoulders inside. However, Berserga is a heavy-class A.T., designed for Quent people whose average height exceeds 2 meters. For me, just 176 cm tall, it feels far too wide. This thing doesn’t look like a coffin packed with instruments.

I took out a mission disc from the right chest pocket of my pressure suit. The 8cm diameter disc is housed in a 2mm thick hard case, just like a computer disc. I opened the disc driver on the right console. Four of the seven slots contained discs. Their data controlled basic movements, combat information, and combat movements.

I put the mission disc into one of the remaining slots. This one stored my personal information. The remaining slots were for copying. After making sure the mission disc was securely stored, I pushed the disc driver back into its original position. It locked into place with a click.

When I pressed the start switch next to the control frame, the instrument lights came on and the generator began to hum softly. This started the electrical system’s operation.

I gently pulled the retractable cable from the right ear of the helmet, with movable goggles attached, and plugged it into the connector next to the seat. This linked the A.T. and the goggles, and all combat information was displayed in the eyepiece.

The red warning light on the right console went out. This was an indication that the muscle cylinders had reached normal operating temperature.

The A.T. was driven by muscle cylinders placed all over the body. Inside the cylinders were bundles of chemical fibers. They react chemically with the polymer Ringer’s liquid in the cylinders in response to electrical signals, expanding and contracting. These muscle cylinders perform the same movements as humans, according to the pilot’s commands. In a way, the muscle cylinders could be called artificial muscles.

The warm-up was over in about 30 seconds.

“Open the door.” I said, and pulled the control sticks up toward me. At the same time, the solidified muscle cylinders stretched out flexibly, and Berserga stood up with a slight shudder. Its whole body was supported with just its feet, maintaining a delicate balance.

At the same time, Klacton pulled down a lever about one meter long that extended from the floor, and the wall in front of me began to open outward. A soft, yet dazzling light shone into my eyes in that five-meter square space, and a cry like hundreds of men roaring came pouring in.

“Klacton! Get into the auditorium quickly!” I shouted, and with the hatch still open, I made Berserga walk toward the arena. Every time Berserga’s legs, fitted with additional armor plates, stepped on the iron-plated floor, the heavy metallic sound reached me in the cockpit.

Spread out before me was a circular arena about 20 meters in diameter.

In the bowl-shaped spectator area, an overflowing crowd was staring intently with bated breath, betting slips in hand. There were men in military uniforms and men in flashy clothes that gave them away at a glance as merchants. But there were only a few of them, and most were just dirty-looking ruffians.

A man in a running shirt who looked like he’d lost all his money gambling had climbed up the fence and was yelling wildly. But his voice was drowned out by the cries of the spectators, united in a battle-loving demonic roar.

In front of me stood my opponent Carl Plana’s A.T. with three men behind it. It was a custom Standing Tortoise type. The same heavy class as Berserga and about the same height, but its head was just a triple scope lens surrounded by armor, so its body was a little larger than Berserga, which has a separate head.

The Tortoise is produced in large numbers, so it can be considered the standard type of heavy class A.T. Most of the A.T.s I’ve battled so far have been variations of this type. Some reinforced the front armor plating because the cockpit volume is large. Of course, thickening the armor increases weight. It’s a problem that makes it move slower, but it’s all a matter of the pilot’s skill.

Before I piloted Berserga, I also used a custom Tortoise with reinforced armor, with the ring name “Corpse Kain.” It’s an A.T. that’s very easy to operate.

I stopped Berserga in the center of the ring, hoping Carl Plana would be a strong opponent who’d get my blood pumping. As if silently showing that I was the challenger, the Tortoise slowly walked to the center of the ring. It stopped about 2 meters in front of me.

We both had our hatches open. But I couldn’t see Carl’s expression because he was wearing the airtight helmet of his space suit. The only thing that could be seen on the bronze-finished surface of his visor was the reflected glare of the spotlight, distorted into an oval. From what I could tell from his pressure suit, his muscles were hard as steel. Otherwise, his sleeves wouldn’t be as tight as logs.

Carl’s deep voice came through the radio, amidst a lot of static. “So you’re the Blue Knight. Kain McDougal. I thought I’d heard that name somewhere before.”

“You seem to be up on gossip,” I said into the microphone next to my mouth. “Just as I heard in Wada.”

“Huh…” A muffled whistle came from the radio along with his voice. “So rumors about me have reached Wada, 2,000 kilometers from here.” In the cockpit of the Tortoise, his shoulders shook lightly. Then he spoke in an intimidating voice. “Blue Knight, I will defeat you and make a name for myself!”

Before I knew it, the audience had fallen silent. The two A.T.s facing each other must have made them realize the match was about to begin.

The silence was suddenly cut by the sound of a siren.

I raised the control sticks, which had been lying flat, closed the hatch, and switched on the goggles. Battle information appeared on the monitor inside them. Battling had begun.

A high-pitched metallic sound echoed beneath the feet of the other guy, who’d closed his hatch a split second earlier. At the same time, his machine disappeared from the monitor as if it sank. Roller dash. The Tortoise used the small wheels attached to the left and right of its legs for running.

A dull metallic glare appeared in the monitor, and the next moment, the Tortoise’s right arm with its exposed skin appeared. A.T.s gather all visual information from the scope lens on their heads. That always makes it the first target.

I shifted my machine to the right and avoided his attack — but there was a dull scraping sound. The Tortoise’s arm must have grazed the side of the visor that supports the scope lens. There was a slight impact. According to the calculations, it should have been avoided. There was no way his arm could reach it, even if he used the arm punch mechanism that extends from his elbow.

However, I soon found out why. The guy had extended the range of his arm punch beyond the standard. It wasn’t noticeable, but it was clearly foul play. My body was getting hot. I like guys who are willing to cheat to win. Their tenacity makes me feel a humanity that’s been forgotten in this age.

The Tortoise, displayed on the metal scanning sensor, had moved to about five meters behind me. I turned around and switched the monitor image from standard to wide-angle. The whole body of the guy was displayed, creeping up on me.

The energy created by the generator was sucked in, and the twelve-inch wheels built into the left and right sides of Berserga’s legs roared into action. The gliding wheels aren’t really wheels. They’re magnetic rotating bodies. When it scrapes against the ground, it generates a huge driving force, and it performs high-speed travel called “roller dash” without using the A.T.’s legs.

I felt myself being pressed against the seat, and Berserga began its roller dash. As if waiting for this, sparks flew under the Tortoise’s feet. At the same time, the speed of the thing approaching on the monitor increased dramatically. It was accelerating at its limit. All I could see was its chest, with the bare steel of its plates exposed.

I quickly maneuvered the control stick. At that moment, there was a heavy vibration, and the bar graph on the speedometer hit zero. I had managed to get Berserga to grab onto the thing’s body as it lunged at me shoulder-first.

But its gliding wheels continued to screech relentlessly. It felt as if it was trying to push Berserga down, and it released all its stored power twice, three times all at once. It seemed that the gliding wheels had been tweaked quite a bit. The torque was twice that of normal.

My machine began to slide backwards. I quickly hit the trigger on the control stick and activated the left arm punch. The liquid powder cartridge built into Berserga’s elbow exploded, and the pressure of the explosion caused the left arm to snap forward from the elbow. It was as sharp as a lightning bolt, and it knocked off the armor plate hanging from Tortoise’s waist. In an instant, the roaring of its gliding wheel stopped, and the machine lost all resistance.

“You’re going to overheat like this.”

I aimed the arm punch again at the exposed base of the leg. If the leg loses its driving force, the A.T. has no choice but to run on the gliding wheel. This deteriorates the polymer Ringer’s liquid in the muscle cylinder.

But the moment I activated the arm punch, I was seized by a strange sensation, as if I lost my footing. In the monitor, it was getting farther away. I’d been thrown back with my machine.

The harsh sound of scraping the ground continued, and the impact reverberated to my bones along with the shouts of spectators. I’d landed in the stands. The monitor was clouded with dust from the shattered concrete fence.

I hit my shoulder hard on the console. But two or three of the spectators who were crushed by Berserga had probably died instantly. That’s the fate of battling. The spectators know that when come to watch. It wasn’t my problem.

As I started to operate the control frame to get up, the sharp metallic sound resonated again. The Tortoise approached in a roller dash at a fairly high speed.

“You’re not as good as the rumors said!” Carl’s taunt came through the radio. He thought he was going to finish me off. But that wasn’t the case.

The moment his machine filled my entire monitor, I hit the trigger on the control frame with my right thumb. It was the result of reflexes trained into me as a soldier. My five senses accurately captured its shape and I operated it precisely.

When I heard the faint sound of the cartridge ejected from Berserga’s right arm falling to the ground, the Tortoise stopped in the monitor. As I moved my gaze, the image on the monitor also moved, showing the robot’s head with Berserga’s arm embedded in it.

His scope lens had burst from the barrel-shaped part of the telescope and shattered into pieces inside the warped armor hood.

“It looks like the match is over,” I said to Carl through the radio.

I heard his angry voice answer. “Don’t talk big over something like this. I’ll win against you. I promise!”

On the monitor, the Tortoise, which had lost its vision, was backing away with unsteady steps, sliding its triangular head down over the cockpit hatch. Through the peephole that had opened there, I could see Carl’s face, helmet removed. Carl grinned.

In an instant, a flash of light appeared around the Tortoise’s chest. A roar echoed through the air. Was it an 11mm machine gun? It looked like it had been crushed by the sensor!

There were five light vibrations on either side of my cockpit. was hit once in the right arm and three times in the left leg. The other shots just grazed me. It looked like a stray bullet flew into the audience. I wonder how many people died from that?

It may be different in a real battle where firearms are used, but using them in a regular game is a serious violation. Normally the match would be called off at this point. But I didn’t want it to be canceled. It had been a long time since I met a man so determined to win. But there was no need to worry.

“Kill him! It’s a real battle!” The crowd roared loudly.

Then Klacton’s voice came over the comm. His words were filled with rage. “Kain, this is serious. Kill Carl! Show him what happens when a dog breaks the matchmaker’s rules!”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I spat into the mic.

Carl’s voice came over the comm. “You idiot, you’re the one who’s going to die!”

At the same time, the Tortoise aimed the machine gun that was sticking out of its chest at Berserga.

“If I kill you, I’ll be known throughout Melkia as the man who defeated the Blue Knight,” Carl said in an ecstatic voice. “That’s no longer a dream.”

“I like you,” I said, and stepped on the accelerator pedal. At that moment, the Tortoise started firing its machine gun. With a thunderous roar, the bullets converged in front of Berserga. But just in time, I managed to avoid them. No, it wasn’t me. The Quent sensor on my shoulder worked with the mission disc program to perform the optimal evasive maneuver.

The next moment, Berserga began to move at high speed. The accelerator pedal that I had pressed before the evasive maneuver activated the gliding wheels.

Berserga jumped out to the left of the other machine. In an instant, I tilted the control sticks forward, shifting the center of gravity forward. At the same time, I pressed the accelerator pedal to the floor. The gliding wheel lost its grip and screeched. A violent sideways G-force hit my cockpit.

I could hear Carl’s voice sounding almost devastated. “An A.T. roller dashing sideways?! That’s impossible!”

The gliding wheels are indeed fixed to the legs of the A.T., so it can’t change the direction of travel more than the direction of the legs. I made it slide sideways by accelerating suddenly and shifting the A.T.’s center of gravity. From Carl’s perspective, it looked like it dashed sideways.

In reality, A.T.s can rotate 360 degrees from the waist up, but that’s the limit while walking. If you rotate your upper body more than 45 degrees while running, the machine will lose balance and fall over.

In a gunfight, if you use the arms well, you can attack an enemy behind you from the side. But now it was hand-to-hand combat. This was the only way to hit an enemy, moving sideways at high speed. Of course, it’s not in the A.T.’s program. But it’s not impossible if you can manually maintain the machine’s balance.

I pulled up Berserga’s left arm and brought it down on the Tortoise’s head. At that moment, I felt a light impact from the left side of the cockpit, followed by a loud rumble from under my feet. The Tortoise had fallen. He was unable to stand up, facing the sky.

I thrust the shield attached to Berserga’s left arm in front of his cockpit. I heard the sound of teeth chattering from the communicator. Looking through the viewing window, his blond hair was disheveled and his eyes were wide.

“Where’s the momentum you had earlier?”

“P…pile bunker? Are you planning to use that!?”

“Yeah, the matchmaker told me to kill you,” I said, suppressing my emotions.

“That thing should be sealed up for regular games! You don’t think you can just punch through the armor like that, do you…?”

Carl’s words, which sounded hopeful, were covered in noise and hard to hear. It seemed that Tortoise’s communication device was dying.

Opening the visor on Berserga’s head, I cut off the video input from the goggles and turned down the volume of the communication device. Behind the visor was a viewing window, so I could see the enemy with my own eyes. At this distance, it was quicker than using a communication device that was constantly making noise.

“Sealed up, huh? Even if you stuck a metal plate on the tip, the power of the pile bunker won’t change,” I said, trying to sound menacing. “You hear all the gossip. You know its destructive power, and the number of bastards it’s sucked blood from.”

“I heard it was…two hundred…”

Two hundred. That was a lie, like the three hundred Klacton had said earlier. But it worked.

“Do you want to be the 201st?”

Carl shook his hair wildly. Even if he was one of the top five Votoms riders in this city, he was still fragile in the face of death. If the pile bunker was activated, it would definitely bring death. He knew that very well.

“Depending on the story, I might let you live.” Perhaps out of fear, Carl didn’t say anything. But I asked anyway. “I heard you know where the Black A.T. is. The one with the iron claw on its left arm.”

Carl’s voice was flat and thin. “The Shadow Flare. The one that only appears in real battles…”

“I heard in Wada that you, a Votoms pilot trained by Dart Klacton, a matchmaker in Dara, know where the Black A.T. is.”

“I… I wonder if that’ll really help me,” Carl said in a desperate voice. “I guess it’s right.”

At that moment, Klacton’s voice came over the radio. “Kain, what the hell are you doing? Kill him quickly.”

“That’s what the matchmaker said. Now it’s all up to me.”

I put more pressure on the control stick I was holding. The sharp tip of my shield dug into the Tortoise’s hatch. At the same time, a high-pitched metallic sound rang out.

“…Arg!” Carl opened his stiff lips in desperation. “He should be in Arg City, 200km north from here! I-it’s not a lie. It’s true. Believe me!” He rambled on in a crying voice. “It’s been about three months. He’s been there this whole time!”

There was no reason to doubt it. There were countless rumors. I’d been fooled a few times. I didn’t know how much I could trust what was said. But I had no other way of getting information about him other than relying on these random stories, whether they were true or false.

“Arg city…?”

“Hey, hey, hurry up and move that pile bunker!” Carl yelled.

“That’s right,” I said calmly. “Thanks to you, I’ve got a clue about the Black A.T., and I’ll also get some money. Now, all that’s left is for you to die.”

“What? That’s not what you said!”

“I don’t want to break the rules like you did. The matchmaker told me to kill you. That’s all.”

I pulled the lever in my hand. It was a heavy hit. Three liquid powder cartridges exploded at the same time, and the long spear attached to the shield accelerated at 900km per hour, piercing the cockpit of the Tortoise. The sharp sound of it puncturing the armor plate was followed by a horrible vibration that broke flesh and bone, which was transmitted back to the lever.

“AAAAGH!”

I heard Carl’s scream from the other end of the comm, but it was soon drowned out by the noise. The tip of the long spear returned to its original position, dripping red blood. Carl Plana was dead.

I walked Berserga to the side of the waiting room, removed the mission disc, and stepped down from the cockpit onto the ground, planting my feet on the roll bars on its chest and knee.

Inside the arena, torn-up betting slips were flying around, now just scraps of paper. My first and last match in this city was over. All that was left was to collect my prize money and leave. But at that moment, a dozen men climbed over the fence and surrounded me. All of them were holding rifles. They seemed to be the arena’s vigilantes. All were wearing matching white jackets.

“Don’t move. If you move, we’ll kill you!” A man in a wide-brimmed hat yelled.

“What’s this all about?” I replied in a low voice. I should have been congratulated as the winner. I don’t remember needing to deal with a vigilante.

“You broke the rules. You used a pile bunker in a regular game. You’re not allowed to use lethal weapons.”

“That was fair. I killed him just as the matchmaker told me to.”

The man in the hat pointed his gun at me. “Shut up. You just come with us.”

I raised both hands slightly. I had a gun on my hip, but it only had three rounds. I had no intention of taking a gamble against a dozen automatic rifles.

“Just follow me.”

He pulled the gun from my holster and pushed his rifle barrel against my side. It was a signal to walk. I reluctantly followed his orders. I was taken into the waiting room with guns pointed at me. Klacton was standing there with a grin on his face.

“Klacton, you set this up,” I said, exasperated.

Klacton grinned. It was the lewd, smug smile of someone who had just risen in the world.

“The name Blue Knight smells of money. He’s no ordinary guy, he’s a strong one. You’ll stay in this town until you die.”

I smiled back, not to be outdone. “So you’re gonna get what you want by force, is that it?”

“Yes. It’s not unusual. I can make a buck even if I sacrifice the firm’s biggest earner. It’s simple.”

“So, what’re you planning to do with me? Shackle me and make me do battle?”

“It’s all up to you. If you team up with me and keep battling, fine. If not, you’ll be going back and forth between the detention center and the arena with automatic rifles escorting you.”

“You’re hiring me?”

“That’s right. I’ll pay you 5,000 Gildan per match. And I’ll give you as much food as you want. That’s an incredible deal for a Votoms rider in this town.”

“You’re an interesting guy. Negotiating a contract at gunpoint.”

“What else can I do? There’ll be too many escape attempts if I try holding you. The best way to tie someone up is with money,” Klacton said, stroking his beard. “After being a matchmaker for so long, I’ve come to understand you Votoms riders. We can’t have a proper conversation without me pointing a gun to your head.”

“I see…8,000, then. If you pay that much, we have a deal.”

“8,000!? You don’t seem to understand your position.”

Klacton jerked his chin and signaled the vigilantes. The muzzle of an automatic rifle dug into my side.

“Okay,” I groaned. “I’ll make the deal for 5,000. That’s still not too bad.”

“Is that so? That’s fine.” With that, Klacton handed a small package to the hat man from the vigilante group who was standing to the side. “Keep an eye on him until he signs the contract.”

“It’s pretty light today,” the hat man said, looking at the package with a bitter expression.

“Those aren’t the usual gold coins. They’re bills. The denomination is a little larger.”

“Oh, that’s different.”

The hat man checked the contents of the bag and signaled to the group surrounding me. Their guns slowly pointed away. Klacton took out a neatly folded document from his pocket.

“Kain, come here. Let’s get you to sign the contract.”

I walked over to Klacton and took the document. For a moment, he smiled ominously, as if thinking about the one-sided nature of the contract. I grabbed the edge of the document and pulled it.

“This is good quality paper. It’s thin, but it seems quite strong.”

“Ah!” Klacton suddenly shouted. Several gun barrels were quickly aimed at me. It meant that if I tore up the document or showed any sign of resistance, I’d be shot dead on the spot.

“Don’t scare me,” Klacton said, and gestured for the vigilantes lower their guns again. “Hurry up and sign it. You’re a good product. Then we’ll put the military police on guard duty…”

I smiled and glared at Klacton. “That’s quite a different story.”

“Shut up!” Klacton yelled, then shouted at the vigilante hat man. “Hold him down!”

As soon as Klacton said that, the hat man on my right shifted his gun to his left hand and grabbed me. I grabbed the gun and pulled the man’s left arm back.

“You–!” grunted the man in the hat.

“It doesn’t matter, just shoot him!” Klacton shouted. But the vigilantes didn’t budge.

“You seem to have a lot of support,” I said to hat man. “Let’s use you as a shield for a while.”

I reached around his chest with my left hand, took my gun back, and backed away to the side of the jeep, throwing it on the seat. I quickly turned the starter with the key, still in the socket. The 5000cc engine woke up and roared.

At that moment, Klacton took a gun from one of the vigilantes and fired. The first shot hit hat man in the face, but the second caused Klacton’s barrel to bounce from recoil, leaving only a scar on the wall. I quickly pushed hat man away, jumped into the driver’s seat of the jeep, and started off.

Klacton continued firing, but the bullets only flew around the jeep without any impact. I drove into the arena, where the roar of the crowd was still lingering. The floor was covered with iron plates, and there were many cracks in places due to the aftereffects of battling. A normal tire would have been cut to pieces. But the large balloon tires with deep grooves allowed the jeep to keep its grip.

After driving about 20 meters, the gunfire from Klacton stopped. I stopped the car, put it in reverse, and slammed the bumper, set low at the rear of the jeep, into Berserga’s feet. With a dull creak, Berserga lost its balance and fell backward.

The rear loading platform caught Berserga and the car sank deep into the ground. This vehicle was a jeep in shape, but it was a military armored vehicle modified for transporting A.T.s, with a monstrous axle width of three meters. The loading platform was four meters square.

After I confirmed that Berserga was on the platform, I started the jeep. Berserga’s legs were hanging off the edge of the platform, but I couldn’t pay attention to that. My first priority now was to get out of here. The engine roared heavily beneath my feet. That was when it happened. It seems that the vigilante group had received an official order to attack. The shooting began.

I could feel the vibrations of automatic rifle bullets bouncing off the rear of the vehicle. I drove the jeep into the A.T. passageway that was wide open in the fence on the opposite side of the waiting room.

The shooting stopped once we got through. It seemed they had no intention of chasing us. I turned the wheel toward the city of Arg, where the Black A.T. was said to be.

“Sha Bak…your sworn enemy is in Arg…”

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