Bro, Want to Link the Fire?

The next day, Rider and Medea both looked listless. Duke was no better; poor sleep had left him drained and constantly nodding off.

Last night, they had encountered three newcomers in the Unknown Space. Two of them had arrived together, and in cases like this, their worlds usually had something in common.

Mobile Suit Gundam!

Legend of the Galactic Heroes!

Set against the vast galaxy, these worlds portrayed epic space wars filled with gunpowder, mecha, warships, and other adrenaline-pumping elements. Steel and hot blood, politics and cruelty, humanity and survival, with beautiful women and starry skies thrown into the mix—they were the very model of a man's romance.

The newcomer from the Gundam world was a pilot, and his ride was a green Zaku. That was right—he was a Zaku pilot, the sort who was routinely taken on one-versus-many by the protagonist without even getting an inner monologue.

Although the newcomer repeatedly insisted that Gundam pilots were all sissies, that a man's romance was piloting a Zaku, and that the essence of combat was using an energy axe to smash someone's head in... even he could not convince himself with that sour tone. If someone had a Gundam to pilot, who the hell would want to drive a Zaku?!

Unfortunately, the newcomer was not an ace—just an ordinary person. Under normal circumstances, a Gundam was out of the question.

Type-Moon Duke's assessment of him was: passerby + background prop + cannon fodder used to make the male lead look cool. Still, he only thought it and did not say it aloud. After all, anyone who owned their own mecha, even a green Zaku, was one of humanity's elite. Among a crowd of useless nobodies, the newcomer was at least the hardworking sort, so there was no need to crush his