Campaign 10

“You want another range built up for sniper rifles and machine guns?” asked Remi, “Sorry, Malachi, the places—where we’ve put the kill house and the time trial range—are our only available spaces. Judging from the capabilities of those guns, I’m guessing you’ll need a much bigger area.”

Indeed, just as Remi was thinking, sniper rifles and machine guns need a bigger space to fully utilize compared to the tight spaces of the kill house or other small areas. Assault rifles were, of course, meant for mid-range to long-range combat. Shotguns shine the brightest in short-range combat to close-quarters—and this was also true for pistols.

While machine guns also have the same range capability as assault rifles, and were capable of holding down a tight corridor, they perform admirably in wide, open spaces where it can sweep the horizon with long bursts or sustained fire—able to keep an entire sector in check. The same can be said for sniper rifles—with their extremely long range, they can stop a battalion of enemy infantry from kilometers away.

Malachi held his chin. “I see,” he said, “I guess the best thing to do is live exercise. They’ll just have to get used to these two types out there like on-the-job training.”

Pondering on what to do, he looked out a window. Yes, there were windows for the armory, albeit smaller than the windows of their classrooms. Ordinary men and women would not last long in the confines of steel, ventilation shafts, and extreme heat without seeing the outside world from time to time.

As he peered out to the rest of the academy, he spotted a large wall of rock and dirt towering over the drill grounds.

“Hey, do you have construction equipment?” He asked, “Rather than occupy an existing area, can we not just build a new one? That cliff face seems suitable and, judging the sheer size of the mountain, we can build it pretty deep into it.”

Remi looked at the cliff face where Malachi was pointing at.

“We will need the authorization of the Headmaster,” she replied, “This entire area is in his jurisdiction, after all. Just because you are his grandson, I can’t give you special treatment.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” he said, “I’m sure he’ll understand. Here is what I’ll need.”

Malachi gave Remi a large number of blueprints for the firing range he had in mind. Remi went through each one, and gave an understanding nod.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, “These are pretty big. You might get an approval in a day or two, at best. If not, it might be after your first mission.”

Malachi nodded then turned around to leave the girl behind. After which he muttered under his breath.

“In the meantime, I’ll be preparing for monster hunting.”

Remi failed in her hopes to stop Malachi from committing recklessness.

Back at the kill house, Malachi silently came back. What he saw, in the short time he was with Remi, was a sight to behold. His classmates were scrambling to get good records in his absence after his roaring speech.

Looking around his class, he noticed that the engineers have changed shifts repeatedly as some of them were tired out from placing and replacing new and old parts, and repairing and maintaining broken machines and guns.

“You, is that the best you can do!?” roared Patrick, “Do you really want that trash to step all over us!?”

As Patrick waited for his turn, he was “motivating” the rest of his Perlasian classmates. Looking at the scoreboard, Patrick was able to achieve a record of 20 seconds. Malachi was grinning as he watched, hidden in the shadows.

‘I wonder if I should make a more precise stopwatch, one that can even show the milliseconds?’ he thought mischievously, ‘Maybe I can push them even further into frustration? No, too evil.’

He continued watching them, hidden from their senses. The next one his gaze landed on was Genevieve. She was repeatedly practicing the fastest and most efficient way to reload her guns. With her was Dinah who was doing the same exercises. Malachi smiled warmly as he watched.

‘Initiative,’ he thought, ‘Excellent work, you two.’

In his mind, he praised those who did well and scolded those who did poorly. Though he did scold them in his thoughts, he thought of ways his classmates can improve their results. Even though he was treated like a monster by the non-Eskurs, he still gave them respect. Respect as someone who will rule over them in the future, respect as their prince.

Without saying a word to them, he left and went back to Remi with a smile.

“Time to create exceptional armor.”

With just a whisper, his eyes gleamed in the shadows.

Remi was in the middle of writing a letter of request to the Headmaster, Eleazar Perlas. Occasionally, she paused to look over the blueprints Malachi gave her.

‘That boy… can he really be called with such a simple word?’ she thought, ‘These schematics are too precise, too… too… I don’t know. I couldn’t think of anything to supplement his ideas.’

Remi thought back to when she first heard about Malachi. She was with the Headmaster, along with the rest of Eleazar’s men and women. Within that group were Axton and Clara, many of her engineers, and Carlos and the academy’s faculty. They were in an auditorium-like location, and were seated before Eleazar who stood upon a podium.

“I’ve received word that my grandson voiced his interest in entering the military academy,” announced Eleazar, “As you all know, he is the child of my son Emmanuel and my friend’s Bashia. It should also be mentioned, about his creations and his heroism during the Fire Ant incident, that he has the qualities of a fine leader.”

When the Fire Ant incident was mentioned, a number of people glanced towards Axton and Clara who were unashamed of the truth. The truth that Malachi was the one responsible in having kept their losses at a minimum with his unexpected command of the soldiers he encountered and rescued. More so with the weapons he created and the zeal he exhibited in that short time.

“I wish to prepare for his entry into the academy,” continued Eleazar, “I hope that you all understand what I mean to do. Even though Alexa has already enrolled, and was able to get into Class 1, I cannot help but feel that she lacks something that Malachi has. They are both my grandchildren, and I cherish them both equally. However, when it comes to the state of the kingdom, I cannot be negligent in guiding them for our futures.”

This was a year after the Fire Ant incident and after Malachi woke up from his coma. Malachi was 13 years old, then, two years before he entered the academy, and Remi was only 10 years old. 10 years, yet she has full command over engineers older than her.

Eleazar placed his gaze on Remi, and she looked up to him.

“Remi, Remi Ashwald. The child prodigy of our time,” he said, “Knowing about Malachi’s talent with machinery and weaponry, I hope that you can work with him in furthering our capabilities as a kingdom. There may come a time when he will need your aid in developing our war potential.”

Remi nodded her little head.

“Understood, Your Majesty,” she replied, “I will help the boy with all my knowledge.”

Eleazar chuckled.

“Haha, calling him a boy when you are a child yourself,” he teased, “Nevertheless, I did not approach you for your age, but your talent. Do not let me down.”

Remi stopped reminiscing the past and returned to the task at hand—following the protocol for academy-wide modifications. It was then when Malachi passed through her doorway. Looking up, she called out to him.

“Is there something else you need, boy?” she asked, “I’m in the middle of writing the proposal to the Headmaster.”

Malachi approached her with quick steps.

“Put that on hold for the moment,” he answered, “I have something else I need your, and the rest of the engineers’, help with.”

Grabbing a pen and paper, Malachi drew a large amount of schematics on the spot. At first, they were just strange shapes. However, as he drew more, images began to from, and Remi was shocked at what it was.

‘How, how is he able to create so much…?’ she thought, ‘Each part is accurately and precisely drawn. Engines, guns… this… this is…’

By the time Malachi lifted his hands from the papers, individual schematics and the final schematic flooded the table. The schematics were for engines, guns, gears, tracks and armor.

“You… you created a siege engine from scratch,” she said in surprise.

Malachi shook his head.

“Rather than a siege engine,” he argued, “Let’s call it a tank.”

Indeed, the schematics were for tank parts, and the final result was reminiscent of a terran tank. Specifically, it resembled the World War II Soviet Samokhodnaya Ustanovka 100, or the SU-100 tank destroyer.

While it was a casemate-style tank, unlike the siege engine that needed to turn the entire body to aim in another direction, the gun of this tank was able to move around a limited angle without moving the entire hull.

“Considering the siege engines, I expect to be fighting on the same level of technology or philosophy,” explained Malachi, “So I need something to punch through all that thick armor in a single shot. Additionally, with its lighter armor, it can move faster than our siege engines while being protected from small-arms fire.”

Remi stared at Malachi.

“Oh, I only need one,” he added, “Just to see if it works and if the engine I designed is suitable for other chassis.”

“Wait, other chassis?” she asked, “You have more?”

“Of course,” he replied, “This one is a tank destroyer. I have more for armored personnel carriers, howitzer gun carriers, long-range artillery, and battle tanks. You don’t expect to depend on solely one type of tank, do you? We need the support of a myriad of vehicle types if we want to get ahead of any potential threat.”

Remi was stunned. For years, the Kingdom of Perlas boasted its anti-armor capabilities—its steam knights and siege engines—and were unparalleled since the Eskur Uprising. Now, there was a young man before her, toppling her common sense down even further. First were Malachi’s small-arms gun designs, and now, even having a multitude of vehicle variants.

While the kingdom prospered from the technologies of other nations—the late Merkan Industrial Union and the Empire of Taijun—due to the efforts of the Eqari Merchant Union, and then modifying them in lieu of their philosophies, Malachi was able to create what none of them thought of before. Of course, Malachi only knew these things due to the creations of other people in his past life.

“Besides, I still need to finalize the ammunition to be used,” added Malachi, “I have to figure out the optimal density for armor-piercing shells at the lightest weight possible. I also need to find out the best pyrocite weight for the high-explosive shells.”

Even the ammunition was different! Remi couldn’t be shocked any further! Compared to the ammunition types of Malachi’s small-arms guns—which only differed in bullet size and pyrocite weight—tanks needed to have a good variety of ammunition to fulfill a myriad of tasks: from punching armor to destroying hard targets or obliterating soft targets.

“Hmm, maybe I should add in…”

There were more! Remi’s mind stopped working when she heard the stream of ideas and components going out of Malachi’s mouth like a raging torrent.

“Ma-Malachi… who are you, really?” she finally asked, “I cannot think of how you are able to create so much when we should only know so little.”

Malachi stopped momentarily and gazed at the little girl before him. After a while, a subtle grin surfaced on his face.

“Because I am the prince,” he answered, “It is only natural to know more than what my subjects can comprehend and especially because of the blood in my veins.”

His voice was calm, yet his eyes were cold. Remi only listened to his words and did not notice the chill in his gaze.

An hour before dinner time, Malachi returned to the kill house. Unlike the rage before, his classmates were already tired and fatigued. Yet, even with the pain of their bodies, they were able to deliver and improved their records.

“Class average: 34 seconds,” said Malachi as he approached, “Not bad, but not good enough. A mere 4-second difference won’t cut it. Levi, Isaac, Mr. Bryant, and Ms. Ramirez, you four have earned your respective days of rest.”

Looking at the scoreboard, Levi was able to maintain a record of 17 seconds, an improvement from his past records. Isaac and Patrick earned two days of rest with 18 seconds each, and Rae maintained a steady average of 19 seconds. The slowest, Tyler, was able to bring his 40-second record up to 35 seconds.

Malachi approached an engineer.

“Give me a pair of radios,” he said, “I want to try something out.”

Immediately, Malachi was given the items he asked for. He kept one, and gave the other to Arlianne.

“Can you do another run?” he asked.

Arlianne wordlessly nodded and hooked the radio on her collar. She grabbed a normal loadout and approached the kill house entrance. Malachi went to a nearby bench and sat down, rather than going up the catwalks where the majority of his class was.

“I will share to you all how I was able to achieve 12 seconds,” he announced, “Go up the catwalks to observe.”

Confused, the others looked at one another. But since it had something to do with his insane record, they followed his order and left him alone. Malachi looked at Arlianne’s record: 17 seconds.

Raising the radio in his hand, he momentarily smirked before speaking to Arlianne.

“Can you hear me?” he said into the radio.

“Loud and clear, Malachi,” replied Arlianne.

“Good, just keep it like that…”

As he said those words, his voice trailed off. Arlianne noticed something strange and glanced back at Malachi.

‘What is this…?’ she thought.

“Eroda sluos ruo od eeht gninrub rovref htiw gninruter nus eht fo dlihc gninrom eht fo dnal.”

Malachi was whispering strange words into the radio that only he and Arlianne could hear, though she could not make out what was being said. As he spoke, Arlianne was filled with a strange power. She felt as if her fatigue disappeared, and thought a cool refreshing breeze blew over her. Furthermore, she was able to concentrate on her surroundings better, and felt a strange heat rising up from the depths of her heart.

“Samaj naralloh et on serosavni sol anuc omsioreh led seroma ed arreit.”

The engineer was about to give the signal, and Arlianne could see each minute movement the engineer was doing.

“Lahamanim gnayalgap as tiwa ta alut gna galid yam wahgub gnom tignal as ta yomis as kodnub ta tagad as.”

A split-second. Once the signal was given, almost at the same time, Arlianne burst forth. The phenomenon was similar to what Malachi once did, surprising the engineers that were once present back then, and shocking the rest of Class 13.

“All in Hell’s name, what was that!?” cried a cadet.

Arlianne blazed through the kill house similar to the speed of Malachi’s first few runs. Each shot was accurate and precise.

“Thgim stnaryt yb demmid eb sdleif gninihs sti llahs reven ho thgila srats dna nus sti straeh ruo lla ot raed rennab yht.”

The engineer keeping track of the record was trembling from what the stopwatch was showing.

12…

Arlianne was nearing the end of the kill house.

13…

“Rirom it rop nednefo et odnauc sojih sut arap airolg anu se riviv se eclud ozager ut ne seroma y los led sahcid ed arreit.”

As soon as Arlianne passed through the exit of the kill house, and the engineer stopped the watch, Malachi finished as well with his strange chant. Once Arlianne no longer heard his voice, she dropped to the floor, trembling, and stared at the young man sitting on the bench grinning at her.

“Ma-Malachi… that…” she said disbelievingly, “What was that…? What did you do…?”

Malachi stood from his seat and approached her.

“Words are powerful, my sweet,” he said as he caressed her cheek, “Words are powerful.”

Fourteen seconds. Arlianne was able to achieve a record of 14 seconds—3 seconds faster than her previous record, and just 2 seconds away from Malachi.

Suddenly, he raised his arms towards the rest of his class. Then, rather than a whisper, he cried.

“Ikesik umazik in abiay ukemarih ekad urekuzdustiakatat eteak ami in abiay ow iraki an uoy on amugam an akkam usagan ag uzik aterakas ak on ui ah atana ot eakumihcat ot eragaihcat uodok ureokik enum urook!”

The cadets of Class 13 and the engineers widened their eyes at Malachi’s unknown words. Yet, as they heard him speak, a strange feeling welled up from within them—strange, but similar to what Arlianne felt when she ran the course.

“What in the world is happening?” pondered a cadette, “Magic?”

Malachi laughed.

“Magic, you say?” he said, “Of course not! Magic does not exist for it is all in the mind! Words! Thoughts! Ideas! Concepts! They are all born from the mind, and each one is as powerful as the rest!”

Malachi clenched his fists.

“Ettaseik in nezustot ag iromukun on uzah ura ian om ebus ukegan ihsukan abotok ak ot iihsayuk ak ot iihsanak eterawabu eas uobustez on ii aberim ow emuy annod!”

He said another string of words, and everyone felt a cool breeze blow over them—all of them.

“The power of words!” he cried, “The power of thoughts! Once you master it, you can do anything!”

Shocking, really, to think he had this kind of ability. Malachi left his class dumbfounded at his unbelievable claims, and uttered a whisper for them.

“The power of words,” he continued, “Words and mere hypnotic suggestion. Hahaha…”

Still, even with hypnosis, the effect should not have been that grand, or was it only because of his blood?

Nevertheless, with half an hour before dinner time, he dismissed his class and left them to themselves.

In an unknown location, there was a meeting of five men. Two of them had dark skin and black hair, but the other three had fair skin and hair, and eyes of blue and green.

“I trust that everything is in order?” asked one of the dark-skinned men.

One of the fair-skinned men spoke to his companions—and elderly man—in an unknown language. The elder replied to the one who spoke to him in the same language.

The first fair-skinned man faced the dark-skinned man. He was a translator.

“Do not worry,” he said, “The Demons of the East Wind shall deliver upon their promise of support to Your Highness. Once the time comes, we shall be ready to spring with bared fangs.”

The dark-skinned man was Elijah Perlas. He nodded in understanding, and brought out a sheet of paper.

“Here is what we deemed we require to be eliminated in order to succeed and the advanced payment,” he said, “I hope, with this, our partnership would be beneficial.”

The third fair-skinned man received the paper, and the translator translated what Elijah said to the elder. In turn, the elder replied.

“The Demons of the East Wind have the perfect candidate for the task,” said the translator, “We shall deliver swift death upon our enemies.”

The three fair-skinned men bowed deeply, and left Elijah and his companion behind. When the three were no longer in sight, Elijah turned to his companion.

“Relay this to your brother,” he said, “Tell him to expect another person to look out for. He will know who it is once he sees it.”

His companion saluted and subsequently left as well.

Once Elijah was truly alone, he let out a soft laugh.

“With this, the gears of war will turn once more.”