Magic Augmentation Generator Infantry (M.A.G.I.)

by LordBarcha

The Mournful Lover

Iron Wing stared at the hulking mechanical figure before him. It’s paint looked so fresh that it might have still been drying. Thick slabs of armor covered it, gleaming a dull orange. From its back, a skeletal frame extended to either side, strongly resembling a pair of wings. A mechanic scrambled over to him, calling,

“You must be the intended pilot!”

“That would be correct. I reall-” Iron Wing started, but was quickly cut off.

“I know exactly what you’re about to ask. Why are we wasting a top of the line work of art on a mere testing tournament?”

“That would be corre-,” he answered stiffly, but was cut off again.

“The outer shell of a MAGI unit is easily and cheaply produced. We have more than thirty of these waiting in the wings. Five other possible Actuators are using the same type of machine. It is actually cheaper to build them from scratch than to repair them and you will be using a fresh unit during every match.”

“Then why are there so few Actuators accepted?” Iron Wing demanded, shocked at the apparent insanity, “I had no idea that MAGI were this expendable!”

“Power limitations. It takes a significant amount of energy to operate this kind of machine. Micro-sizing the magic generators rendered them impossible to mass produce. Using a MAGI unit anywhere outside of this tower is impossible without one. Because of their scarcity, the number of units we can field is low. We have to keep the number of pilots relatively constant to make sure that all Actuators have access to these generators.”

“One last and really important question. How in the world am I going to get this thing into the arena?”

“That would be my job,” answered the still eager technician, “You’ll want to head outside. Trust me when I say that missing Patterner’s instructions would cost you.”

A voice boomed from the direction of the door, “All Actuator candidates will now report to the arena. Round one will begin in ten minutes.”

“Go on,” The technician announced, “Your MAGI will be in place when it is needed.”

As Iron Wing stepped out of the room, he was greeted by a strange, cherry red pony. It greeted him with a nod, then spoke in a clipped and precise voice.

“My name is Patterner. I have come to give you your instructions. You will report to platform two in thirty seconds. Follow the red line, please. You will need to run.”

With a smirk, the pony vanished, leaving a glowing red line on the floor. Now panicking, Iron Wing sprinted down the line, arriving at a glowing circle etched into the smooth metal plating. Tentatively, he stepped into the circle, which began to lift into the air. As it lifted, the world went dark. A white bar blinked into existence. The white bar slowly turned red, then blinked out. Iron Wing suddenly found himself standing in front of a set of doors. Intrigued, he lifted a hoof to open the door. A metal limb slowly raised itself into the air.

“What the-” He began, but was quickly interrupted by the voice of Patterner

“Go.”

The doors slammed open, revealing a floor of sand. He felt himself flung out onto it and heard the hollow boom of the doors closing behind him.

Think, he thought, I’m in the arena. My legs seem to be metal. It’s almost like I am the MAGI. Maybe it’s responding to my movements.

Something slammed into him, sending him skidding across the sand. As he forced himself to his feet, the blow came again. Gasping as the wind was knocked out of him, he spread his wings and pulled back onto his hind legs.

Wait. I have wings now?

His opponent came suddenly into view. It was a sleek, streamlined machine. Smooth plating gave it an aerodynamic look. It lunged at him and he briefly caught sight of a pair of ribbons trailing from its back. With his newfound maneuverability, he slammed his forehooves down onto the opponent’s back. The much heavier mass of his machine bent the opponent’s armor and it withdrew.

I have to have some kind of weapon. Maybe a spear?

As he watched, one of his forehooves retracted, to be replaced by a short blade. With a screech, the blade began vibrating. In response, the hoof it had replaced started to ache. He could feel his forelimb start to go numb. The scream of the machine roared in his ears.

Is this what it feels like to be an Actuator? This power? With this kind of strength, I can’t lose!

He launched himself at this opponent, digging the blade into his opponent’s machine. One of its limbs broke off, flying into the air. Without any warning, a spike of pain flared in his side. He screamed as it dug deeper. looking down, he spotted one of the ribbons embedded in his chest. With a flash of his blade, it was severed. Reeling and delirious from the pain, he struck the enemy again and again.

What am I doing?

Chunks of armor flew past him. The scream of his blade cut deeper into his mind.

What am I doing?

There was very little left of the opponent’s MAGI at this point. It was scattered across the arena in too many pieces to count.

What am I-

As the pain in his chest became a bit more intense, the sword retracted into its housing. Glancing down at the ruined chunks covering the field, he asked himself,

Did I win?

With an abrupt flash, the world shut off.

---

“That was brutal.”

“Nobody is making you see this, Nexus”

“When is Lightray’s match?”

“Two rounds from now. I’m a bit curious. It looks like you pulled some more strings. I don’t recognize the model number.”

“It’s my personal MAGI unit.”

“Top of the line?”

“Original production run.”

“So you’ve given your favorite a pile of scrap that’s more than two hundred years old.”

“It’s actually more than three hundred. I want to see what he can do with it. It’s not like it could be more damaged than it already is. Its heart is broken.”

“Machines don’t have hearts to break. I should know from experience.”

---

With one last pull, Lightray dragged himself to the top of the rusted wreck. From within the machine, a gentle tick emerged. On the wrecked head, a light gently blinked on, flickering in time with the clicking of its machinery. The entire machine gently hummed under his feet.

“So this is the old model,” spoke a voice in his ear.

Lightray jumped in surprise, almost losing his footing. Behind him, a bright red pony floated. It had both wings and a horn.

“Startled you, didn’t I?” the floating figure asked.

“Who are you?”

“Just call me Patterner. I’m basically in complete control of this tournament.”

“Were you the one who assigned me to this machine?”

“No. You have your sponsor to thank for that.”

The horn faded from Patterner’s head and the wings vanished into nothing.

“Do you have anything useful to tell me?”

“Your match is in five minutes. I suggest that you run.”

The rest of the red pony vanished, leaving a red trail on the floor below. Suddenly, the machine started shaking. his weight proved too much for the remaining forelimb, which buckled, sending the MAGI toppling forward. He scrambled for footing as it slammed into the ground, sending him flying forward.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the machine, then sprinted out of the room. The line led him through a long line of hallways and corridors, before terminating at a gently glowing pink circle on the floor.

---

A tall, muscular stallion stepped into the observation chamber.

“General,” Nexus greeted.

“What’s this I hear about you messing with my careful recruitment plan?”

“I merely added one soldier.”

“Why did you refuse my offer? If it was so important that this favorite of yours become an Actuator, he could have been given something top of the line. Perhaps even one of my prototypes. I’ve seen what you gave him. It’s trash.”

“She said she wanted to fight again.”

“You say that like the MAGI could think.”

“How do you know that she can’t?”

“You don’t mean-”

“The Mournful Lover.”

“But the last pilot of that machine went brain dead! No one can pilot it!

“I’m counting on him not being able to try.”

---

Stepping into the circle, Lightray initiated the boot up sequence. A white bar floated before him slowly turning red. The red bar blinked out, leaving Lightray in darkness and silence. For what seemed like an eternity, he floated alone in the void. The first note played through his head, followed slowly by another. Although he did not recognize the melody, the meaning was clear, a funeral dirge. One by one, the discordant notes washed over him, until suddenly, they were cut off.

“They’re coming!” cried a voice in terror.

His mind latched onto the sound, desperate for any feeling, even pain or fear. Slowly, the world regained color and feeling. He was soaring above a delicate tower. Long spires reached up toward him as he recognized the scenery.

“Old Canterlot,” he whispered.

In the distance, columns of smoke rose. At their sight, rage flooded through him. It flared in intensity and he realized that it was not his own.

What is this? he cried mentally, struggling to suppress the alien presence.

The dirge began to play again, growing faster and more chaotic by the second. Below him, a brilliant rainbow burst forth, sliding up the spectrum to an impossibly bright shade of violet. The feelings came again. Sorrow. Regret. Pain that was not his own, but tore at his chest like it belonged there. As a shining violet dome flung itself outward, the world faded again. A single cry of grief and anguish pursued him back into the welcoming abyss.

The music started again. This time, it carried the humm of a machine, the clatter of machinery, and pain, physical pain. His every sense screamed. The world shone with new and unknowable colors, which burned his eyes. Unearthly sounds assaulted his ears. The clicking of an ant’s mandibles echoed like a thousand booming drums. With one last burst, the world shuddered back into void.

After something so vivid, the endless blanket was both a relief and a new source of pain. Thankfully, it gave way to a new melody. Its sounds were rough and sharp, like the breaking of glass and the grinding of gears. The rage returned with the song, coursing through him in fiery spurts. Suddenly, the world resolved itself. He stood in front of a glowing purple barricade. It flickered and died.

“Charge!” came the cry. A thousand shapes blotted out the sun. Just as Lightray thought the rage could become no stronger, it flared. He could no longer resist. Thunderously, his scream of sorrow echoed out across the field. Wings spread. His horn flared with power. Scales buckled under his blow. He struck again and again, losing himself in a flurry of motion. The blows of his enemies were nothing. They were the pattering of rain against his hide. He was vengeful steel. As one last screech wrenched itself from his throat, he welcomed the cold embrace of silence and darkness.

---

As Iron Wing walked, his side still ached. Closer inspection thankfully showed no physical injury. Stretching, he strode back to the stands and took the nearest open seat.

“Have you been in a match yet?” the nearest filly asked.

“Yes. I was in the first one.” he answered stiffly.

“Which machine?”

“I remember that it was gold.”

“So you were the one in the Icarus model. I don’t quite understand why you were so incompetent, though.”

“Incompetent?” Iron Wing shrieked, “I was thrown into the machine without any time to figure out how it worked!”

“I suppose that might explain why you took almost three minutes to crush an obviously inferior Masamune model. You didn’t even need the vibration edge, the brute strength would have been enough. My name is Mobile Armor, by the way.”

The sound of a buzzer interrupted their conversation, and a pair of doors opened on the arena below. From one side, a heavily armored machine like the one Iron Wing had piloted strode onto the field. On the other side, a rusted hulk clattered onto the field.

Pulling back onto its hind legs, the Icarus model strode forward.

Mobile’s voice took on the tone of a connoisseur, “See how the wings stabilize it. It’s not a flight unit. The wings give full mobility to the forelimbs. Some of the latest models come with a shield to use in protecting the main body while in that kind of position.”

The wrecked machine slowly forced itself from the ground, metal groaning and screeching. A sickening crunch bore tidings of a stripped gear and one of the legs broke off entirely. The Icarus’ limb split down the middle, revealing the short vibration blade. Sickeningly easily, the screeching blade slipped into the chest of the fallen machine. Withdrawing the sword, the Icarus prepared to strike again.

Abruptly, the limb holding the blade bent. It’s joints sparked and screeched before the limb was wrenched away completely. Rusted armor on the face of the wrecked MAGI unit broke away, revealing a pair of glowing blue orbs. It opened a serrated mouth and lunged at the opponent, ignoring the cacophonous complaints from its joints. Its opponent pulled back, deploying another sword from its remaining hoof.

“What was that?” Gasped Iron Wing, “That was a stab to the chest. The pilot should be unconscious!”

“I’ve never seen this happen. That looked like telekinesis,” muttered Mobile Armor, shuddering.

Ravenously, the increasingly bestial machine tore at the ruined and discarded arm of its opponent, devouring it. With a flare of blue light, A jagged column of metal thrust itself from the center of its forehead. On its back, a wrecked chunk of metal flexed and bent, growing into the shape of a wing. New armor formed over the gaps, hiding its machinery. With impossible speed, it struck the Icarus, ripping through it like paper. Wreathed in blue fire, the machine stood over the ruined opponent.

“The Mournful Lover,” whispered Mobile Armor, “I thought it was just a legend.”

---

A/N: Bonus points to the person who guesses the plot twist. I thank ambion and LL for their services, which are always invaluable.

Comments

[LordBarcha]

1795723

I'm going to make a blanket optimistic guess and say it's something nice.

[roadie576]

Interesting....please, continue

[Blue Streak]

Since no one took a guess at my feelings last chapter I'm just going to say it.
1795739 this fic feels like Zoids. Bravo.