The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

The craftsman who had originally created the exosuit traveled all the way to Belvur to assist me, but in the end, he couldn’t completely repair my equipment.

Browning had the skills, and Belvur had the resources. But what we lacked was time.

If a firearm had been damaged, he could have replaced it with a similar model, or if we were lucky, sourced compatible parts from another firearm. Browning arrived with a plethora of components and equipment he had brought on the train, including spare parts for the exosuit he had designed.

However, the outer plating of the suit was too damaged to be salvaged.

Browning managed to repair most of what he had considered "expendable" in the original design. He replaced the mana stones fitted to the slots and the tiny gears prone to breaking.

But there simply wasn’t enough time to replace all the brass plates that made up the outer shell. Even the sections that had been designed to detach for easy replacement were so warped that they couldn’t be forced into place. The suit’s core frame, not intended to be an expendable part, was beyond repair with the time and resources available.

Even with spare parts, replacing the frame would require a complete disassembly and reassembly of the suit.

“It’s the outer armor,” Browning explained. “Patching it up haphazardly would be futile. If we rushed the job, the armor would likely fall apart in the heat of battle.”

The suggestion of patching it just enough to withstand one hit was dismissed immediately. If the plating fell off mid-combat—before even enduring an enemy's attack—it would not only be useless but also potentially hazardous. A heavy piece of armor falling and smashing my foot was not a risk I was willing to take.

“Is there no alternative?” I asked.

“Hmm...”

Browning stroked his chin thoughtfully before proposing an unconventional solution:

“If that’s the case, why don’t we just remove all the outer armor altogether?”

Hissss.

When I slammed the button on my chest panel, it emitted a sound akin to a steam locomotive venting pressure.

Actually, it wasn’t "like" that sound—it was venting steam.

Browning’s emergency redesign involved filling the steam engine on my back to maximum capacity, replacing the usual mana stones with highly condensed marmaros in the fuel chamber, and running the engine at its absolute limits.

To ensure the system wouldn’t explode, it was modified to release the excess steam through vents.

When I asked if this contingency was part of his original design plan, Browning nodded.

When I asked if it was safe, he didn’t answer.

With no better options, I authorized the modifications.

Now I was experiencing the effects of those changes firsthand.

“Grrr...!”

The exosuit didn’t have any sort of "AI" assistance, of course. This was to be expected—computers in this world were the size of buildings. Integrating such technology into a portable exosuit was out of the question.

Instead, the suit functioned as an intricate network of steam-powered hydraulics and gears that enhanced my physical strength.

The problem was that this overheated version of the suit didn’t just "assist" my movements—it amplified them beyond their normal limits.

Every slight motion triggered a burst of energy from the steam engine. Where once the suit creaked under strain, now my own joints groaned ominously.

Nothing was broken—yet.

Still, I reminded myself: this was better than having no suit at all.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

Each step propelled me forward like a runner gaining momentum, and for brief moments, my vision soared as though I were airborne. Perhaps the steam venting from the suit’s ankles was aiding my leaps. It was a fleeting thought as I found myself bounding forward with unnatural ease.

By the time I was five steps away from the Emperor—

“Haah!”

I launched myself into the air, twisting my body mid-jump. My inverted vision flashed back to the fight in Lutetia’s underground when I’d vaulted to a second-floor balcony. But this time, I ascended faster and soared higher than before.

Amid my inverted view, I caught sight of white steam lingering where I had leapt. A sharp shiiick followed by a loud krrrk sounded as a blade left a long scar across the floor where I’d stood a moment ago.

“Oops.”

The nonchalant voice came from Lucas.

Without hesitation, I aimed my gun toward the source of his voice and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The sound of the gunshot was deafening, but the roar of the exploding bullet was even louder. A plume of steam marked the bullet’s trajectory, creating a tunnel of vapor that ended in a burst of red flame.

Swoosh!

But my shot didn’t connect. A streak of light followed the bullet’s path, as though Lucas had split the vapor column in two.

Once again, I twisted my body mid-air, steam hissing from my ankles as it vented from the boiling marmaros inside.

The blast of cold steam felt odd, given the heat coursing through the system.

I hit the ground in a roll and immediately cycled the bolt of my gun, ejecting the spent casing—

And loaded another round.

“Hmm.”

The sound came from beyond the steam cloud.

“You’ve improved since last time. Doesn’t look like you’re rewinding time this time, either.”

The figure emerging from the mist was unmistakable.

Only Lucas—or the Emperor—could sound so amused in a situation like this.

The flaming red hair ruled out the Emperor.

“Still, you’re not quite there yet. I’d say you’re about ten years too early to fight me without any ‘cheating.’”

“...”

I didn’t dignify his taunt with a reply. Instead, I pulled the trigger again.

Lucas swung his blade as if to deflect the bullet—

“Ah.”

But his smug expression faltered.

While my rifle had an internal magazine, it also featured a mechanism separating the magazine and chamber.

In short, I could load and fire single rounds manually, like a bolt-action rifle.

It wasn’t a feature most people would find useful, but for someone like me, who carried various types of marmaros ammunition, it was invaluable.

As Lucas’s blade froze mid-swing, I chambered another round, my eyes fixed on him.

Ten years too early, huh?

He might be right. No matter how much time I had, my talents alone could never rival Lucas’s innate combat genius.

But that’s why humanity invented technology.

Knights who dominated battlefields could still be felled by a single bullet, fired blindly. A rain of artillery could shred even the mightiest warriors.

Even in a world where someone could deflect bullets, a bullet piercing their body would still kill them.

And one thing was certain:

I had spent my life training with firearms. I’d fired them until I was sick of it, in both training and combat. I’d killed more people than I could count on two hands.

So maybe Lucas shouldn’t underestimate me.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I fired three quick shots, cycling the bolt as fast as I could.

For a swordsman, even a minor change in the weight of their blade could spell disaster. Swords were "wielded," after all. While weight imbalance also affected firearms, the impact wasn’t nearly as severe as it was for blades.

Lucas was a skilled swordsman—one of the best. A chunk of ice clinging to his blade wouldn’t cripple him.

But deflecting bullets was another story entirely.

Deflecting bullets was beyond human capability, even in this world where such feats were "possible" due to narrative conceits. It was an action that pushed the limits of human skill.

And when someone already at their limit was given an additional handicap, even they would struggle.

Clang!

The ice chunk on Lucas’s blade shattered into fragments. Whether his vision was obscured by the scattering shards or he failed to fully deflect the bullets’ energy, I wasn’t sure—but he staggered briefly. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The next two bullets missed their mark, but Lucas had no chance to counterattack.

And that gave me the time I needed to assess him calmly.