I Was a Loner, but My Class Got Summoned to Another World…-Chapter 500: Brand New Armor / War Front

Ruben's forge was at full blast, flames and wind working together as the hero of smithing crafted his next masterpiece.

After watching his army train and push themselves to improve, Logan decided to see how else his forces could advance.

As he stepped into the smithery, he was greeted by the heat of mana-fed furnaces and the steady sounds of metal being shaped into new forms. Sparks leapt from the enchanted anvil Ruben used, a creation born from the combined work of Marie, Bobby, and Ruben, forged from the best materials so the smith could produce new alloys.

Ruben stood at the center of his workshop, his apron stained with oil and soot. His helpers waited just behind him, ready to pass him tools and materials like assistants in an operating room.

At his side lay Logan's old black armor, discarded and worn. It was dented and fractured from the last battle, with several parts missing and jagged edges showing. Yet, even broken, it still radiated immense power as one of the smith's finest creations.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Ruben asked, raising an eyebrow. "This will replace everything you had before. Once the nanotech consumes it, there's no going back."

Logan looked down at the battered armor. It had carried him through countless battles, but now it felt like an old skin, no longer able to match his growing strength. He studied it with quiet sadness, then gave a firm nod. "Do it."

Ruben gestured for his assistant to bring forward a heavy pot. Unlike the armor sets made for the girls, Logan's was not pre-configured by Marie, as Ruben had requested freedom to implement his own new ideas.

As the pot was set down, the nanite swarms inside began to stir, squirming restlessly as if sensing the old armor, like piranhas reacting to fresh meat placed before them.

Within seconds, the nanites began to feast on the old armor, as well as the crystals of darkness, wind, and light that Ruben had introduced.

They moved like liquid shadow as they surged across the plates, devouring the black steel. The metal dissolved in patches, swallowed by the swarm of tiny machines, each one a fragment of liquid metal bound to a soul, fully under Ruben's control.

"Since I fed it crystals of the elements you use, it won't drain your mana," Ruben explained.

He then pushed the large pot toward Logan. "Place your hand inside. It will begin to take form, the ideal one. Since it's ever-changing, it will adapt when you morph, reshaping itself with you."

Logan hesitated, staring at the rippling ink that churned inside. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and thrust his hand forward. The swarm latched onto him, crawling eagerly up his arm as though consuming it.

Then, with startling precision, it began to weave itself into a gauntlet. Logan couldn't help but admire the design as it emerged.

Where his old armor had been heavy, jagged, and intimidating, the new form crafted smoother plates, layered with faint lines of luminous silver. Wind glyphs spread across the surface like intricate tattoos, faintly glowing green along his shoulders and arms. The artistic symbols pulsed as if alive, their rhythm following the pace of Logan's breathing.

Light-elemental stripes etched themselves along the breastplate, radiant enough to blind those who were underground all night; that was until the darkness began to balance the light.

When the swarm reached his legs, the greaves reshaped into a sleek, aerodynamic form, lighter than ever, almost as if they carried springs within them.

Finally, a mantle unfurled across his shoulders, short and angular compared to the old one. Its edges flickered, shifting between dark fabric and faint trails of light, as though it were not entirely real.

It suited him well. Logan instinctively knew that if he needed to use his wings, the mantle would vanish to make way for them.

When the transformation ended, he flexed his hand, the gauntlets locking neatly into place. The armor flowed with his body as naturally as clothing.

"…It definitely feels different," he murmured, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. "Not just lighter. It feels like it breathes with me."

"That's because it does, in a way," Ruben replied, stepping closer with a proud grin.

"I took what Marie and Silvia created for the girls' suits and adapted it for you. Unlike your previous armor, this one doesn't simply draw from your mana; it breathes in the surrounding mana as well. Even better, if you gather enough wind-elemental energy, it will resonate with you, boosting your flight speed. The same effect applies when you channel your dark and light elements. However, remember that it's not indestructible. When you morph, it will spread its defenses to guard your most vital parts."

He crossed his arms, satisfied. "So? What do you think? This is the best armor I've ever made."

Logan couldn't help but notice that the armor had even formed a section to accommodate Scarlet's bracelet. He only realized it because the bracelet was acting strangely.

It seemed to come alive, syncing with the armor, and through their bond, Logan felt a wave of approval from Scarlet herself.

He exhaled slowly, uncertain of what Scarlet intended. Then, before his eyes, the armor began to etch new symbols into itself, amber in color, glowing faintly.

Ruben blinked in surprise. "How did you instantly gain Earth mana? Don't tell me you made another pact with a new spirit."

"No," Logan replied, glancing down at the shifting designs. "I think Scarlet somehow merged with the armor…" Even he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.

"Well, if that's the case, we'll need to test it later," Ruben said, rubbing his chin. "For now, you'll need to sleep in it for a while so the sync can finish."

Logan nodded, placing his hand over the glowing crest on his chest plate. "That's fine. There isn't much I can do right now anyway."

He suspected Ruben was working on something else, though the smith hadn't said anything. Oddly, this time he hadn't given Logan a weapon, even though the whip he had been using was broken beyond repair.

"As always, thank you, Ruben. I'll see you later."

With that, Logan left the forge and made his way back to the castle. The sense of uselessness gnawed at him again. There was still paperwork waiting for him, and after that, he needed to check on his creatures.

⟦⚜ In the Empire: The Southern Forest Front ⚜⟧

The southern forests of the empire no longer looked like forests.

They were a graveyard of charred trunks, only stumps left pointing toward the sky. Blackened wood still smoldered, and ash drifted with every gust of wind.

Once a landscape of green abundance, feeding the empire with boundless life, it had been reduced to a wasteland where death reigned without pause.

From the scarred earth, thousands of demons formed endless lines, hammering at the empire's defensive wards.

Each violet glow marked another teleportation array flaring to life, vomiting more fiends from the other realm.

The tide was relentless. Wolves with molten hides bounded forward, armored imps snarled with jagged blades, and stone-winged gargoyles shrieked as they dive-bombed the shields, trying to shatter them and drag screaming soldiers to their deaths.

Never before had numbers like this been seen—not even in the days of the first hero.

Reynar sat astride his Breeze Roc, his grip on his sword so tight his knuckles blanched. He forced himself not to flinch as yet another horde poured out of a portal.

Thousands yesterday. Tens of thousands today. Tomorrow… millions.

The thought pressed down on him like a mountain.

"Your Highness!" one of his captains shouted from the newly constructed fortress. "They're breaking through on the left flank! If we don't reinforce now, the camp—"

"I know… I know!" Reynar snapped, voice cracking through the chaos. He thrust his hand upward, gathering light until it blazed like a beacon. "Iron Talons, with me! Hold the flank, no matter the cost!"

The soldiers obeyed without hesitation. Fear was in their eyes, but so was resolve. Many even looked exhilarated, as though death was an acceptable price for their homeland's survival.

For them, the only solace was their prince himself his attitude, his courage. To many, he already felt like the true hero.

The ground shook. From the smoke, massive golems lumbered forward, twice the size of any Reynar had faced before. On one's shoulder, a demon knight brandished a crimson glaive, its runes pulsing with blood magic.

The Roc beneath Reynar screamed, wings snapping wide as it launched forward. He raised his sword, drawing in as much sunlight as he could before the inevitable clash.

That was when a shadow tore across the field.

A black panther lunged, claws sinking into the golem's stone arm as though it were soft clay. With a sickening crack, the creature's massive head snapped sideways and crumbled apart. At the same moment, a raven shrieked overhead, feathers exploding into shards of shadow that blinded the demon rider.

The golem staggered. Its rider screamed. And through the smoke strode Valeria Rowgar.

Her violet eyes glowed faintly in the half-light, leather armor streaked with soot and blood. She moved with unshakable confidence, as though she owned the battlefield itself. Her creatures followed close, circling with lethal grace, cutting down any demon foolish enough to approach.

Soldiers erupted in cheers the instant they recognized her.

"Lady Valeria!" voices cried. "The queen's strongest tamer is here!"

Reynar's chest tightened. She was breathtaking to behold, beautiful in a way that demanded attention no matter the circumstances.

Valeria raised her hand. For a heartbeat, even the chaos seemed to pause as soldiers and demons alike waited for her command. Her voice rang clear across the carnage:

"Leave this place to me! Focus on the sides where we are losing the most men! Drive this trash back into their own portals!"

Noire, her panther, lunged again, ripping through another demon in a spray of blood. The raven's cry followed, sending shockwaves that rattled the enemy ranks and broke their formations.

Reynar caught himself staring, his grip slackening for just a moment, before forcing his Roc forward to fight at her side.

If she had come, there was hope, because she had not even summoned her dragon yet.