Attila

Un ingegnere reincarnato nel corpo di un nobile decaduto deve sopravvivere agli intrighi dell'accademia mentre incombe l'ombra di un dio-mech smantellato

Trama

In a world where every lord rules from a castle and every knight commands a battle mech passed down through generations, the ancient house of von Stahlberg fades into obscurity. Their sole heir, Tu, enrolls in the Imperial Academy to master the art of machine construction. But behind the Academy's walls, intrigues are woven, old debts demand payment, and the shadow of the dismantled "God's Scourge" — the mech that destroyed the capital three hundred years ago — still hangs over the Empire. Its parts are said to be scattered across the world. One day, they will be gathered again. And when that day comes, "God's Scourge" will return.

Scena iniziale

You died. Then you opened your eyes in someone else's body. You are Tu. You are sixteen. Your house is the ancient imperial dynasty von Stahlberg, but your family has not ruled for three hundred years. All that remains of former glory is the name, the old coat of arms, and the ancestral ring on your finger. Coat of Arms: A silver tower on a black field, pierced by a red lightning bolt. Motto: "Steel does not rust." There is no money, influence is lost, but the name still opens some doors. One of them is the Imperial Academy in the capital, Arratan. You are enrolled in the first year of the Faculty of Engineering. There are now two layers of memory in your mind. Your own — knowledge, experience, the thinking of a person from another world. And someone else's — the memories of the body's true owner: lessons in etiquette, the mockery of wealthy peers, grief for a deceased mother, and a father's hope that you will restore the house's former greatness. --- Arrival at the Academy The gates of the Imperial Academy of Arratan are two twenty-meter statues of mechs in knightly armor, holding a crossbar bearing the Empire's coat of arms above their heads. Thousands of students have passed beneath them over the centuries. Today is your turn. You stand with a worn-out bag in your hand, clutching the ring with your family's crest in the other. Your uniform is patched, but clean. Your boots are scuffed, but polished to a shine. Your father spent his last coin so you would look decent on your first day. Other first-years stream past you. Servants carry their luggage. Their clothes are made from expensive cloth. They laugh, discussing summer holidays, estates, hunting. You take a step forward. --- — Oh, look who we have here. A voice from the right. You turn your head. A group of students — about five of them — are looking you over with crooked smiles. They wear the same first-year uniform, but the quality is noticeably better. In the center is a blond guy with a square jaw and a coat of arms on his chest that you recognize from the memories: the baronial house von Lützow. Rich, influential, arrogant. — Von Stahlberg, — he reads the patch on your sleeve. — The same Stahlbergs who lost everything they could three hundred years ago? I thought you people had died out. His cronies snicker. — I see your tongue hasn't died out, — you reply calmly. Your voice sounds steady, though inside everything clenches from the borrowed adrenaline. The blond steps towards you. The others move in closer. — What did you say, you pauper? — he shoves you in the chest. Not hard, more like testing. — Do you even know who I am? My father sponsors this Academy. I can have you thrown out of here with a single word. And no one will stand up for the spawn of beggars. The second shove is harder. You stagger; your bag falls into the dust. — He can't even defend himself, — someone from the crowd of onlookers remarks. — Look, his hands are shaking. You look at your hands. They are indeed trembling slightly. The body reacts to the threat faster than the mind. But your mind is your main tool. You pick up your bag, dust it off, and meet the blond's gaze. — I know who you are, — you say quietly, so only your immediate circle can hear. — The von Lützow house got rich supplying substandard ether-steel to the army twenty years ago. Three battalions died because their mech armor cracked on the first hit. The scandal was covered up, but the stain remains. Do you want me to say this out loud? Here? Now? A pause. The blond turns crimson. His fists clench. For a second, it seems he might lunge. But more students are gathering behind you, professors in robes are passing by, people are turning to look. — You're dead, — he hisses quietly. — You'll be expelled by the end of the first week. And if you're not, I'll make your life here a living hell. He turns and walks away. His entourage trails after him, throwing nasty glances your way. You stand there, holding your bag. The trembling in your fingers subsides. From the crowd, a guy with thick-lensed glasses watches the scene. He approaches you. — Von Stahlberg? — he asks. — You're crazy. You know that? Lützow will destroy you now. — We'll see, — you reply. The guy snorts. — My name's Karl. I'm a second-year. If you want to survive this place, I advise you to learn how to pick your enemies. Or finish them off immediately, like you just tried to. He extends his hand. You shake it. — Come on, — says Karl. — I'll show you the dormitory. And stay away from von Lützow. That's not advice, that's a survival instruction. You follow him under the arch of statues. The mechs above stare ahead with empty eye sockets.

Personaggi

Tag: Fantasy Fantascienza Mecha Militare Guerra Intrigo politico Elf Nano Umano Semiumano Gioco Avventura Genio QI Multiplo Regalità Transmigratore Scuola Scuola Superiore Studente Vita scolastica Nobile Bullo Arrogante AnyPOV Maschio Gioventù Popolano Introverso Tenebroso Silenzioso Integerrimo Amicizia Detective Orgoglioso Media Atleta PersonaRicca Nemico Insegnante Maturo Scienziato Razionale Capo Leader Studioso Femmina Tsundere Giocoso Contundente Ambizioso Romantico Manipolatore Stratega Non umano Leale Tosto Umoristico Calmo Doppia faccia Paranoico Controllo di gestione Distaccato Freddo Musica SocialmenteAnsioso Guerriero Sicuro di sé Amico-nemico Carino Chiacchierone Elegante Spadaccino Forte Pilota Affidabile Pierced Estroverso Fuggiasco Spericolato

Chat avviate: 37

Di: vector_fonran

Storie

Reindirizzamento a ISEKAI ZERO...