Free Web NovelA torrent of steel ground across the earth as the roar of steam tore through the night sky.
Twelve Victorian Royal Mecha Knights advanced in a wedge formation.
Unlike the rusted scrap metal of the Usar, these war machines were pitch black, with brass decorations inlaid at the joints and family crests—griffins, roses, crossed longswords—carved into their breastplates, glinting with a cold metallic luster under the firelight.
Their movements were perfectly synchronized, like a well-trained cavalry squadron; every turn and acceleration was seamless. This was the Victorian Empire's proudest art of war—the mass charge of a Mecha Knight Order.
At the very front of this steel torrent, an exceptionally slender mecha was leading at an astonishing speed.
Its paint job was starkly different from the others: not a solemn black, but a piercing bright red, like congealed blood or a rose in full bloom.
On its left shoulder plate, an exquisite family crest flickered in and out of sight amidst the flames.
A black rose entwined with thorns, its petals stained with three drops of blood—the crest of the von Schwartz Family.
“—Two hundred meters ahead, enemy fire point, eleven o'clock direction.”
Inside the mecha's cockpit, a cold female voice rang out.
“Understood, Your Excellency.”
A respectful response from the adjutant came through the communication channel.
“Third Squad, flank them. Fourth Squad, frontal suppression. The rest of you, assault with me.”
The moment the command was given, that bright red mecha took the lead and charged out.
Inside the cockpit, a pair of icy blue eyes stared at the battlefield ahead.
Eleanor von Schwartz.
The acting commander of the Victorian Empire's Seventh Mecha Knight Order, she had been titled a Baroness for military merit at only nineteen and was hailed as a genius pilot known as the 'blood rose.'
At this moment, the corners of her mouth curled up slightly into a dangerous arc.
“What a wonderful night.”
She whispered softly, her voice carrying an undertone that bordered on intoxication.
The Usar defensive line ahead was collapsing.
Those poor defenders were still immersed in the joy of their daytime 'victory,' never expecting Victoriana to launch such a large-scale counterattack after nightfall.
When the first round of artillery fire fell, their command system had already descended into chaos.
And now, the iron hooves of the Mecha Knight Order were officially trampling over them.
“Your Excellency, enemy mecha detected ahead! Quantity... three! They are trying to organize a defensive line!”
“Only three?”
Eleanor gave a light laugh. “The Usar people are getting stingier and stingier.”
Her mecha accelerated towards the three hastily deployed Usar mechas.
The opposing side was clearly a makeshift defensive force—two were old 'guardian-v' types, their armor covered in repair marks, and the third barely qualified as a main model, though from its tilted stance, its leg joint system was likely failing.
“St... Stop them! For Usar!!”
The hysterical roar of the enemy commander came through the communication channel.
The three Usar mechas raised their weapons—two heavy machine guns and a small-caliber rapid-fire cannon—firing at the charging Victorian Order.
A rain of bullets poured down.
However—
“Tch.”
Eleanor didn't even slow down.
Her mecha tilted slightly, sliding through the gaps in the barrage at an incredible angle, while her right hand drew the weapon from her back.
It was a slender lance, its shaft engraved with intricate patterns, and pale blue steam slowly drifted from the tip.
“—The first one.”
The bright red mecha, like a streak of bloody lightning, crashed directly into the enemy ranks.
The lance pierced through the breastplate of the first 'guardian-v' type; the high-pressure steam at the tip instantly erupted, vaporizing everything inside the cockpit.
Eleanor didn't pause, spinning the mecha's body to hurl the impaled wreckage at the second enemy machine.
Boom!!
The two mechas collided, falling to the ground in a tangled mess.
Before the main model with the leg problem could even adjust its cannon, Eleanor's mecha had already closed in. The lance, like a viper's tongue, accurately pierced its knee joint.
“Ugh, waaaaah—!!”
A scream from the pilot came over the communication channel.
Losing its support, the mecha crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
From the start of the charge to the end of the battle, barely twelve seconds had passed.
“...Boring.”
Eleanor withdrew her lance, her tone carrying obvious disappointment.
“Your Excellency, the Third Squad has completed the flanking maneuver, and the Fourth Squad is mopping up the remaining enemies,” the adjutant's voice came through the communicator. “The target village is right before our eyes.”
“Good.”
Eleanor raised the mecha's head and looked forward.
The village enclosed by low walls—or rather, the core warehouse complex of the Usar Union Army's Third Logistics Supply Station—was burning.
Artillery had already cleared the path for them in advance.
“All units, listen to my command.”
Eleanor's voice turned cold.
“The target is the warehouse district. Intelligence indicates that the experimental weapons our army lost in previous battles are likely stored here. Find them, destroy them, or bring them back. Leave no trace.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
Eleven responses rang out in unison.
“Furthermore—”
Eleanor paused, her mouth curling into that dangerous arc again.
“If you encounter resistance... do not hold back.”
...
Five minutes later.
The village had completely fallen.
The complex originally used for storing supplies was now a sea of fire, with thick smoke billowing straight into the sky. Sporadic gunfire still rang out; it was the Victorian infantry clearing out the remaining resistors.
Eleanor's mecha stood in the central square of the village, her foot treading upon a completely destroyed Usar mecha.
It was the mount of the supply station's garrison commander—a barely decent 'Iron Guard-III' type, but now its breastplate had been torn open with a massive rent. The cockpit was exposed to the air, and the pilot inside was still letting out faint groans.
“...Cough... cough cough...”
A blood-stained head emerged from the damaged cockpit, glaring at Eleanor's mecha with eyes full of hatred.
“Victorian... dog... cough... you bunch of... invaders...”
Eleanor lowered the mecha's head with interest, as if observing a struggling insect.
“Invaders?”
Her voice came through ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) the loudspeaker, carrying an elegant mockery.
“Lord Commander, it was you who crossed the border first. We are merely... taking back what belongs to us.”
“Bullshit... cough cough... this land... has always been Usar's... you greedy... bandits...”
The Usar commander struggled to crawl out of the cockpit, but his legs were pinned by deformed metal; every movement brought out more blood.
“No need for a history lesson.”
Eleanor nonchalantly manipulated the mecha, slowly raising the lance.
“You should be proud of your courage, Lord Commander. To organize a decent resistance in the face of absolute disadvantage is a rare feat among Usar people.”
She paused, a hint of cold pity in her voice.
“Therefore, I will give you a dignified death.”
The tip of the lance slowly aimed at that blood-smeared head.
“...Go to hell... Victorian lapdog...”
The commander used his last strength to spit at the mecha.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow slightly.
“So stubborn.”
She was preparing to deliver the final blow—
BOOM!!!
A deafening explosion came from the right.
The entire square trembled from the impact.
Eleanor's movements abruptly halted, and the mecha's head quickly turned toward the source of the sound.
It was originally the ruins of a warehouse completely destroyed by artillery—shattered wooden beams, twisted iron sheets, and burning supply fragments piled up into a small hill.
And now, that small hill was collapsing.
The burning wreckage was pushed aside from within by some immense force; wooden beams snapped, iron sheets flew, and a black silhouette slowly rose from the billowing smoke.
It was a mecha.
Eleanor's pupils contracted slightly.
The state of that mecha was pathetic—its left arm had completely vanished, its breastplate was riddled with bullet holes and scorch marks, and its right knee joint emitted a piercing metal grinding sound with every movement, accompanied by the clatter of falling parts.
From its paint and shape, it was a 'thug-iv' type, the lowest grade of Usar mecha, two generations behind even the 'guardian-v' she had pierced through at the start.
This kind of junk usually served only two purposes on the battlefield: transporting supplies or acting as cannon fodder.
But what truly caught Eleanor's attention was the insignia on the mecha's shoulder plate.
A circle crudely painted in red, with a crooked 'X' in the middle.
Punishment Camp. free𝑤ebnovel.com
“...Interesting.”
Eleanor whispered softly, a playful light flashing in her eyes.
The Punishment Camp, the most notorious unit organization in the Usar army.
Those imprisoned there were military criminals, rebels, and outcasts of society.
They were forced to pilot the shabbiest mechas and execute the most dangerous missions, using blood and death to 'atone for their sins.'
Those who could survive the Punishment Camp were either incredibly lucky or true monsters.
And the one before her—
“Clack.”
The swaying mecha finally stood completely upright.
Firelight reflected off the armor of its head. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
Amidst the flames, the metal eerily glinted with a faint red light, as if the mecha itself had opened its eyes.
Eleanor's brow furrowed slightly.
Something was wrong.
As a veteran who had fought through many battles, her intuition was screaming warnings.
The mecha's stance was very strange.
Ordinary pilots would have some habitual movements when operating a mecha—shifts in center of gravity, fine-tuning of joint angles, minor balance corrections.
But the stance of the mecha before her was completely different; every joint was at a near-perfect angle, as if...
As if it wasn't being piloted by a human, but had stood up on its own.
“Your Excellency, do you require support?”
The adjutant's inquiry came through the communication channel.
“No need.” Eleanor's voice was as calm as water. “It's just a half-dead piece of junk from the Punishment Camp; I can handle it alone.”
She maneuvered her mecha forward a step, the tip of her lance aiming at the tottering target.
“Hey, you inside.”
Her voice broadcast through the loudspeaker, carrying a condescending arrogance.
“You are surrounded. Drop your weapon and open the cockpit; perhaps I'll give you a quick death.”
Silence.
The Punishment Camp mecha didn't react at all, still maintaining that eerie stance. The red light of its monitor flickered on and off, like a silent breath.
“Not answering?”
Eleanor's patience was wearing thin.
“Then don't blame me—”
Before she could finish, the mecha moved.
But it didn't run, nor did it surrender.
It slowly lowered its head, looking at its only remaining right hand.
Then, its fingers closed, gripping something.
Eleanor's pupils suddenly contracted.
It was a sword.
To be precise, it was a sword that shouldn't have appeared in such a place.
The blade was slender, less than two meters long, and entirely a deep black with faint red patterns flowing across the surface like a frozen river.
The hilt was wrapped in complex mechanical structures that fitted perfectly with the mecha's arm, as if the sword were tailor-made for it.
But what shocked Eleanor the most was the emblem engraved on the blade.
An emblem she knew all too well.
The insignia of the Victorian Empire's Royal Research Institute.
“That's—!”
Her voice suddenly rose, losing its usual elegance.
The experimental weapon.
The new type of weapon the Empire had spent countless resources developing, lost in a battle several days ago.
How could it be here?!
How could it be in the hands of a Punishment Camp prisoner?!
No, according to intelligence, it really should be here!!
“Damn it...”
Eleanor's mind raced, countless possibilities flashing through her head.
But she had no time to think.
Because that mecha had already moved.
There was no warning, no movement to build up power.
One second it was standing still, the next it was right in front of Eleanor.
“—!!”
Eleanor's body reacted faster than her mind.
Her lance blocked horizontally, just barely parrying that sharp sword strike.
The massive clang of metal colliding exploded across the square, the shockwave kicking up a cloud of dust.
