An outdoor military training ground on the outskirts of Minas Tirith.
The sea wind howled, tearing the clouds to shreds.
[Altitude one thousand! Prepare to dive!]
Ola warned Stuka of the approaching test, and the great beast understood at once. Folding its wings, it plunged toward the center of the target range like a falling meteor.
Its needle-point pupils reddened as blood surged through them at extreme speed. The newly fitted dark-brown armor along its flank clung snugly to its skin, radiating a strange, almost living warmth, without any of the cold or resistance of the steel plates it had carried before.
On the ground, Tristan watched the rapidly expanding black shadow and raised his right hand high.
"Ready-fire!"
The heavy siege ballista, already primed, roared.
Twang-
A refined steel bolt as thick as an arm became a streak of black lightning, shrieking as it intercepted Stuka's dive.
There was no dodging it. Or rather, Ola had never intended to dodge.
Thump!
A deep boom erupted in midair, like the sound of a heavy hammer striking thick cowhide amplified countless times.
The tremendous impact jolted Stuka's enormous body violently and shoved it several meters sideways through the air.
"It hit!" an observer on the ground cried in alarm. "Right in the flank!"
Everyone's heart leaped into their throat.
Before, this would probably have ended in an uncontrolled crash, its body smashed to pieces.
But now-
Stuka abruptly spread its wings and used the tumbling air currents to pull out of its dive in a maneuver that pushed its limits. Not only did it steady itself, it immediately followed with a difficult sideways roll it performed only when utterly exhilarated, as light as a leaf dancing in the wind.
"It's fine! It's still flying!" Anton clenched his fist and punched the