The midday sky above the half-destroyed fortress ruins stood in stark contrast to the bursts of smoke and the thunderous roar of gunfire. Dust swirled through the air, laced with the scent of hot metal and scorched earth. At that moment, the tides of the battlefield began to shift drastically.
From afar came the rumble of heavy machinery—dug dug dug dug—accompanied by the strange metallic chime of rotating helicopter blades. Slowly, from behind the rubble-strewn hills, a metallic silhouette emerged. Steel tanks rolled forward like a pack of metal monsters, followed by a column of helicopters and other heavy vehicles, all bearing the flag of Team Juantice.
Atop one of the most eye-catching tanks stood a student clad in a gray-red jacket uniform. Bright red headphones hung loosely from his ears, and a cocky smirk played on his young, confident face. In his hands, he gripped a massive minigun, strapped to a metal harness across his back.
"HEY TROOPS!! CHARGE! NO NEED TO ASK PERMISSION!" he bellowed, his voice booming through the tank's loudspeakers.
This was Taylor—a third-year middle schooler famous not for his academic achievements, but for his uncanny ability to make noisy things even noisier. His name was often uttered alongside warnings such as: "Beware the sound of a minigun—it might mean Taylor's here."
Elsewhere, Guy stood atop a pile of rubble, arms crossed. His black hair swayed slightly in the wind, his eyes distant—as though all he saw were the shadows of a life he had long since grown bored of.
"Huh… utterly disappointing," he muttered, his bored expression having reached an almost divine level of apathy.
Inside Guy's mind:
"More enemies, crazier weapons… yet the leader is just some loud brat? …And Mila's not here either. Bad day."
He turned and began descending the ruins, loosening his black mask and slipping it off to reveal his calm face and trademark half-lazy smile.
"Heh… looks like Mila's not coming," he said casually, glancing toward Aru, who was busy shouting orders to the troops.
Aru spun around, his expression a mix of panic and irritation.
"Hey! Where are you going?!" he yelled, eyes slightly bulging. "The Juantice forces are coming with tanks and helicopters, and you're acting like you're watching a movie!?"
Guy merely shrugged.
"I'm going home. I'm bored of fighting small fry."
Inside Aru's mind:
"This guy… seriously. If he weren't such a good shot, I'd have called an ambulance ages ago."
"W-What about our forces?! You can't just leave!"
Guy paused, glancing to the side as he pulled a snack from his jacket pocket—a bright red bag labeled HELL CHIPS LV.7.
"You're the commander now. Besides, the Munadhi Team should be here soon… or so I heard. Relax," he replied, opening the bag and popping one chip into his mouth.
Crunch.
"Hey, you were only supposed to escort the tank here, not provide commentary on the war!" Aru barked, pointing at Guy like an angry teacher.
Guy simply raised two fingers in a peace sign and gave a slow wave.
"I'll stay this way… until I can fight Mila."
"…Y-You… have a death wish, don't you?!" Aru's voice cracked in a mix of frustration and disbelief.
Guy half-turned, his calm face unchanged, but his sharp eyes hinting at something deeper.
"No. I'm just bored… of a life without thrill," he whispered.
As Guy walked away for real, Aru exhaled sharply and flipped his hair back. He leapt onto the ruins, pointing ahead.
"Hmph! Alright! All PRIMANOEL forces—FORWARD!!"
"YES, COMMANDER!!"
The stomping of Primanoel's forces shook the ground. Their tanks rolled forward, firing shells at Juantice positions. Helicopters twisted through the air while armed students opened fire from behind barricades.
The battle erupted.
Smoke, sparks, and dust danced across the field. Shouts, grenade blasts, and artillery thunder overlapped in a violent symphony. But amid it all…
…Guy walked slowly away from the battlefield, still chewing his chips.
---
The midday sky remained bright, a jarring contrast to the pounding artillery and the hiss of bullets that echoed through the ruins of Dioxiom Fortress. Dust and smoke mingled in the scorching air, as though the battlefield itself refused to give its fighters a single breath.
From the distance came a strange sound—an approaching garbage truck's engine, its roar awkwardly out of place in the chaos of war. The vehicle skidded to a sudden halt, its rear wheels dragging slightly and kicking up a small cloud of dust.
"…A garbage truck?" Taylor muttered under his breath, still watching the fight from his position behind a small military truck.
The truck's door slammed open, and two figures leapt out: Mila and Kaito.
Mila exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from her temple. "Phew… finally made it. Sorry… I'm late," she said to Taylor, her tone a bit sheepish but still steady.
Taylor didn't turn to look. "Relax, Commander. This battle's only just getting started." His voice was flat, but his fingers tapped his minigun in a restless rhythm.
Kaito gave the battlefield a brief glance. In his eyes, every troop movement was like a piece on a chessboard. Drawing in a slow breath, he pulled out his phone.
"Taylor," Mila called, adjusting her headset, "Switch all comms over to Flying Teacher."
Taylor turned at once, his brow furrowing. "Huh? Flying Teacher? You mean… that guy?"
"His replacement has arrived," Mila replied, patting Kaito on the shoulder. "Here he is."
Taylor eyed Kaito from head to toe. For a moment, a pocket of silence settled between them, broken only by distant explosions.
"…Hmph. You sure about this, Commander?" Taylor's voice was flat, but a trace of doubt lingered.
"We've tried every other strategy, Tay," Mila gave a thin smile, "and we've never won. So why not try something different?"
"…Alright," Taylor muttered. Pressing a button on his headset, he barked into the comms, "All units! Switch all communications to Flying Teacher! This is the Commander's order!"
"YES, SIR!" voices rang back in unison from radios and headsets across the field.
Kaito's phone screen instantly flooded with incoming data—location pings, position reports, and tactical questions. Taylor handed over a pair of earphones from his jacket.
"Sir, your assistance, please." His tone had shifted; perhaps he was starting to trust him.
Kaito accepted the earphones with one hand. "Okay." His voice was casual, but his eyes carried the calm confidence of a seasoned officer. He put them on and stood straight, eyes fixed on the battlefield.
"Taylor," he said evenly, "take your troops west. Hit them from the rear. Make them think they're being ambushed by an outside force."
"Copy!" Taylor leapt down without hesitation, leading his troops westward and gunning down Primanoel soldiers who'd been caught off guard.
Kaito turned to Mila. "You, Mila!"
"Y-Yes?" She straightened up.
"Return to the front lines. I need you holding the center. If they see you there, they'll believe you still have full strength."
"…Understood!" Mila flashed a faint smile and darted toward her squad, weaving between stray bullets.
Kaito took a slow breath, then spoke into the comms, "Taylor, what's your position?"
"Still en route, Sir!" Taylor panted, firing between words.
"One more thing—any reinforcements coming?"
"From Juantice Team? Probably not," Taylor replied, "but Glaxina might send some. They've been allied with us since… well, since before Commander Mila had a driver's license."
"Heh." A faint smirk crossed Kaito's lips, though his thoughts were already drifting to memories…
"Commander! Our forces are surrounded from the north and south!"
"Stay calm. Focus on the southeast team. I'll handle the rest myself."
"At thirteen years old, I commanded two hundred adults. All in uniform. All older than me. Yet they followed my orders—not because of rank, but because they knew I… never missed when reading the battlefield."
---
Amid the now-chaotic battlefield, a young man in a gray coat and cap sat casually atop the crumbling remains of a building, one leg swinging as though he were enjoying a performance rather than a war. In his left hand was a bag of salted potato chips, which he'd been slowly munching without pause.
Guy.
His jaw moved in lazy rhythm, his gaze fixed on Aru, who was shouting frantically into his walkie-talkie.
Guy gave a faint scoff, then took another bite. A crumb fell onto his coat, but he didn't bother brushing it off. His expression stayed calm—until a tense voice crackled through Aru's comms.
"Commander! It looks like Mila's also arrived at the scene!" The soldier's tone was laced with nerves.
"What!? Mila too!?" Aru whipped his head toward the device, eyes wide.
"Y-Yeah… Uh… from behind us, there's also ene—ukh!"
The transmission cut out abruptly, replaced only by static and the distant whine of gunfire.
"Hey! H-HEY! Damn it!!" Aru growled, clutching the walkie-talkie tightly. "Why now of all times…"
Guy smirked faintly. Rising from his seat, he stepped onto the rubble, sending small clouds of dust swirling with each step. In one smooth motion, he pulled his black mask back over his face.
"…Finally, she shows up," he murmured flatly but with meaning, drawing a classic revolver from beneath his gray coat.
Aru turned toward him. "Hey! Guy! Where are you going?"
Guy didn't look back. His steady stride carried him toward the chaos ahead, leaving behind only a cold statement: "I told you from the start—I have only one goal. To fight Mila."
"And this time… I won't leave before I meet Anwar."
Aru froze, mouth slightly open. Before he could speak again, Guy vanished into the dust and shadow of the ruins.
"…Brave one, isn't he…" came a voice from his right.
Aru snapped his head in that direction. "Eh?!"
Standing there was a student in a dark green varsity jacket, a small wolf emblem stitched to the chest. A silver necklace hung around his neck, his bright blond hair contrasting with sharp blue eyes. Iqbal—codename: Opet. He rested a Groza rifle on his shoulder, exuding the same relaxed confidence as always.
"Sorry… we're a bit late," Iqbal said with a faint smile, his calm manner easing some of Aru's tension.
"That's fine… In fact, you came at the perfect moment," Aru replied, eyes glinting faintly. "Thanks."
Iqbal's eyes flicked left and right, his demeanor shifting toward caution. "By the way… have you seen Max?"
"Max? No, why?" Aru asked, puzzled.
Iqbal rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. "N-No reason… just wondering…"
With a sigh, Iqbal pulled an earbud from his jacket pocket, slipping it into his ear. He tapped the comm button at his collar and spoke in a more serious tone.
"Faif… time for us to shine."
A voice immediately answered over the line, "Ready!"
Iqbal gave a slight nod, then turned to Aru, who was still watching him.
"Relax. The Munadhi Team and S.G Force are already inside the fortress zone. We're no longer alone."
Aru let out a long breath. "Hahh… finally, some backup…"
---
Gunfire rang from every direction, creating a brutal, chaotic symphony. Mila dove behind a pile of rubble, catching her breath as sweat trickled down her temple. Her body stayed tense, MP5 clutched tightly in her hands.
BANG! A shotgun blast struck the rubble beside her, sending chips of stone and dust flying.
"That… was a shotgun?" Mila muttered, her brow furrowing. "Strange… Primanoel troops usually prefer long-range fire. None of them like to get this close."
Her eyes swept the battlefield. Gunsmoke drifted lazily like morning mist, mingling with the shouts and the roar of tank shells. Then…
"And it's definitely not from our side…" she murmured sharply. "Could it be… they're here?"
Peering from behind cover, she spotted a group of students in brown jackets with a large shotgun emblem across the back. Several swung short-barreled weapons with practiced ease. A bold insignia on their sleeves read: S.G Force.
"S.G Force?!" Mila swallowed hard. "If they're here…"
Her gaze instinctively shifted toward a derelict building at the battlefield's edge. Sunlight flashed off a flat surface—like the glint of a rifle scope.
"…that means Munadhi Team's in play too."
Beep! Beep! Her phone vibrated rapidly. Mila answered at once, calling Kaito.
"Sir! I think the enemy has brought their alliances here!"
"…Alliances?" Kaito's voice was calm but edged with concern beneath the sound of gunfire.
"Yes! S.G Force and Munadhi Team are both involved… this isn't just a battle anymore."
"Understood. Hold your ground. I'll direct Taylor to assist you. Don't die before I give you another assignment."
Mila almost laughed—but didn't have the chance.
BANG!
A bullet struck her shoulder. The impact felt like being hit with a metal bat. She staggered, but there was no blood—only a wave of heat and sharp pain. The serum in her system had saved her from a fatal wound.
"Ukh…!" she hissed.
"Mila! Are you alright?!"
"I'm fine… just a graze. But I think I know who fired it."
Across the rubble stood a man in a neat gray suit, purple tie, matching round hat, and white mask. His hand rested casually on a revolver.
He stared at her without emotion, his voice calm yet unsettling.
"At last… we meet, Mila."
Guy. The mysterious student from Primanoel—often mentioned in reports but never seen by her until now. And here they were, beneath the blue sky, surrounded by ruins and war, standing face-to-face for the first time—like two chess pieces finally brought into direct confrontation.
Mila spoke into her phone at once.
"Name's Guy. Third-year high school, Primanoel. Cold demeanor, headshot marksman with a revolver. Slow when reloading and dodging, but a single hit can knock you out. The scariest part… he's never visibly panicked."
Kaito's voice came quick but precise over the line.
"In that case, engage at close range. Use rubble for cover during reloads. I'll direct Taylor to your position. Hold."
"Got it!" Mila ended the call.
Guy loaded his revolver with deliberate calm. "Finished talking? I hate waiting for someone glued to their phone in the middle of a duel."
Mila grinned despite the sting in her shoulder.
"Yeah, sorry. I was just reporting to my teacher."
"Teacher?" Guy raised a brow.
"Yup. Flying Teacher. He's our commander now."
Guy exhaled. "Interesting. But alright—let's begin. One or two shots, and we'll see who deserves to be taken prisoner."
Mila clenched her fist.
First meeting and already forced to fight… this feels like a shounen anime special episode. But that's fine. This is my chance to prove I'm not just a loudmouth on the battlefield.
The two students moved at once.
Guy raised his revolver.
Mila darted left, firing several rounds from her MP5, the bullets kicking up dirt near Guy's feet.
He's fast too?! And his expression… still cold. Creepy as hell!
Guy ducked smoothly, returning a single shot—straight into the helmet of a Juantice soldier behind Mila, dropping him instantly.
"Focus on me," Guy said flatly.
Mila dove behind rubble, reloading. Her breathing was ragged, but her eyes blazed.
So this is one of Primanoel's strongest… Not just power, but his mental pressure is immense.
Guy advanced casually, as if the battlefield were nothing.
"Hey, Mila… don't you think… this is too slow?" he murmured, almost like small talk over lunch.
"Unfortunately, I'm not the type who enjoys going slow," she shot back, springing from cover and firing twice more.
One bullet clipped Guy's hand, jerking it slightly aside.
"Ah… a hit?" he said, expression unchanged. "Too bad—it's just a scratch."
"If not for the serum, my hand would've been useless by now." Guy thought coolly.
He fired again—barely missing the same shoulder he'd struck earlier.
---
The midday sky over Akarius City remained bright, though the sound of gunfire and the rumble of tanks seemed to tear apart what little peace was left. Wisps of dust drifted in the air, carried by a wind that seemed unsure whether to bring good news or bad. In the distance, the battlefield boiled with chaos, yet elsewhere—a quieter place had unexpectedly become the pivotal point that would determine everything's direction.
Kaito stood in the shade of a large tree, not far from a rocky dirt road that led toward the fighting. His worn blue coat swayed gently in the breeze. His expression was calm, yet his gaze… razor-sharp. His eyes stayed fixed on his phone screen, flooded with notifications from Juantice Team troops, while the faint hiss of static from his earphones played softly in the background.
Being the "Flying Teacher"… Huh, feels more complicated than being a commander at thirteen.
Kaito sighed inwardly, recalling how he'd once commanded hundreds of fully grown, uniformed adults with a single calm instruction from a military control room. Now, with nothing more than a phone and a cheap headset, he was forced to devise strategy in a far more… adolescent environment.
Suddenly—
"Don't move, Teacher."
A cold, flat voice crept in from behind, accompanied by the soft click of a weapon's safety being disengaged. Kaito didn't turn; he merely raised one eyebrow slowly.
"I know that voice… The student I saw this morning, right? If I'm not mistaken, your name is Max," Kaito said casually, as if greeting an old acquaintance.
He turned slowly, and sure enough—a student in a dark green varsity jacket with a small wolf emblem on the chest stood there, aiming an SPR sniper rifle squarely at Kaito's head. Max's gaze was icy, almost emotionless, but in those sharp eyes flickered a trace of curiosity.
"Flying Teacher, huh? You're pretty calm for someone staring down a gun barrel," Max remarked, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Kaito didn't flinch. His gaze slid briefly to the rifle's barrel before he raised his hands as if inviting a hug.
"Hey, if you wanted to invite me to a tea party, you could've just said so. No need for the thriller movie theatrics," he quipped.
Max gave a short chuckle, but his demeanor quickly returned to cold.
"I was ordered to bring you in by my friend… the one sitting comfortably in that helicopter."
Kaito glanced over. At the far edge of a small field, a black-gray helicopter sat calmly, the Glaxina school emblem emblazoned on its side.
The rotor wash made the surrounding tall grass bow and sway wildly. Inside the cabin, a student lounged with crossed legs. He wore a black-and-white Middle Eastern-style robe, complete with a trailing shark tail. A Komodo D5 rifle rested casually on his shoulder. His face bore a tranquil expression, as if he were enjoying a peaceful afternoon rather than sitting on the fringes of war.
"Mag, huh?" Kaito murmured with a faint smile. Good grief… this kid's really growing into his style.
Max gave a slight nod. "If you can, come now. Mag says he needs your input before this war gets any more absurd."
Kaito simply shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket.
"Alright, Max. But don't ever aim a gun at your teacher's head again, okay? Once, I snapped seven snipers in four seconds. And back then, I hadn't even graduated elementary school," he said—half joking, half… warning.
Max frowned slightly, then allowed a thin smile to form.
"Is he serious?" he wondered. Why is this teacher so utterly beyond reason…
Kaito walked leisurely toward the helicopter, raising one hand behind him in a casual gesture.
"Come on, let's talk to Mag. I'm curious to see what my student from Glaxina has planned this time…"
As the two of them approached the helicopter, thin clouds began to drift across the once-clear sky—a sign that the battle's peak had yet to come.