Author's Preface
[10 September 1042 PWE]
[SITUATION REPORT — GAULF STRAIT FRONT]
[Five days have elapsed since the enemy strike on the Gaulf Strait. Approximately 46% of my battalion has been rendered combat ineffective. The remaining 54% continues to hold the line under sustained enemy pressure.]
[Enemy forces currently outnumber our position by an estimated ratio of 6:1. Morale has deteriorated significantly following the mass-casualty event, with widespread concern regarding the deployment of additional strategic weapons.]
[Should present conditions persist, our supply corridors will become untenable, forcing the abandonment of District 17.]
[Requesting immediate reinforcement of Supply Corridors A, C, and D, in addition to emergency personnel, medical units, and logistical support.]
“Ha…” Lieutenant Sahyat let out an exasperated sigh. “Think this letter will work, General?”
Mai'wen of the Third Seat didn't even look up. "No."
“Didn’t have to be so blunt…”
Mai’wen and Sahyat sat in the small military encampment, a few miles shy of the bombardment site. They wore civilian clothing; their once-pristine military uniforms had long since been torn apart and caked in filth.
Even filth was a luxury. Many could no longer complain of dirty uniforms, having lost an arm, an eye, a nose, an ear—or perhaps even a head. The earth reeked of death. Men were marked for death. Death was everywhere, all at once.
The Third Seat approached her lieutenant and fixed her collar. Her touch was gentle, like a gardener tending her favorite flower. “The enemy has the entire district under lock down. Link talismans have been useless. A physical courier won't reach Central Command for several days. We don’t have days.”
Sahyat cracked a forced smile, a desperate attempt at hiding her exhaustion. “Well, it’s better than nothing, right? Our only other option at this point is retreat.”
“Would you hate me for issuing such an order?”
“Don’t ask such a stupid question.” Sahyat took a drag from her lit cigar. A luxury she would not enjoy for a long time to come. “I could never hate you.”
“If you can’t hate me, then let me get a drag.”
“Eh—?! This is my last one!”
“Then consider this an order from your superior.”
“This is definitely power abuse. I’ll report you to HR for this. Cigars are a big deal for me!”
“Oh shut up and let me take a hit.” Mai’wen, seeing an ample opportunity in Sahyat’s flustered attitude, snatched the cigar from her mouth. She took a long, exaggerated drag, adding insult to injury. “Ah, that’s much better.”
“Hey! If you’re gonna take a drag anyways, at least be modest, alr—?!”
Mai’wen leaned in, meeting Sahyat’s lips with her own. They were soft and familiar, the lingering sweetness of tobacco clinging to Mai'wen's breath as one hand settled against the back of Sahyat's neck, drawing her closer.
“Does that make up for the long drag? Sorry, but I’ve been antsy all day without one of these.”
“How inappropriate! To take advantage of a young maiden’s heart…what will your subordinates think of this illicit act? I can’t take any more rumors!”
“Just a one-time thing.”
Sahyat turned away, teary-eyed. “So I was just a fling to you? A sack of meat? Perverts like you deserve to be strung up in the streets in shame. No, even that’s too good for you. Execution is a far more appropriate punishment!”
Mai’wen patted her cute subordinate’s head, meeting Sahyat’s soft gaze with a loving, weary smile. “I’ll take my punishment later, assuming we get out of this alive. For now, let’s just focus on facing the enemy in front of us, alright?”
“Right…”
They couldn’t ignore it any longer; the booming advance of 15,000 A20-series combat androids and 200 Naga tank units, and 2 organic shura officers at the helm.
Combat androids were not particularly strong, at least not by a Wisterian Lieutenant or Divine General’s standards. To compensate for this weakness, Skadhi capitalized on his greatest advantage—numbers.
Damn… Mai’wen thought. We really are down 6:1, and my men aren’t in any condition to fight, physically and mentally. No dice. I have to issue a retreat order.
“Morning~!”
“...?”
The short, feline Shura in a dark-green military uniform amplified their voice. It was feminine, yet masculine, drifting between low and high tones.
“I am Catherine - General Commander of the Urr United Front . Under the grace of our Commander in Chief Skadhi Bhattacharya, you have been given an offer for a cease fire.”
“Nonsense,” replied Sahyat. “What shura would propose peace with humans?”
“Well, our vision of peace is a tad… different than what you humans believe. In the name of the Supreme President, we will only gently execute you in front of the masses in the higher districts. It will be painless, for the most part, and your deaths will further the cause of the Urr United Front! Quite lenient terms, nyes?”
“Declined.”
In response, Catherine hunched her back with a disappointed expression. “Ha…seriously? I thought they were quite reasonable, were they not, Barim ?”
The scarred, short-haired Hominid known as Barim deigned to reply.
“Don’t just ignore me! We’re both of the same rank, so treat me with some respect!”
“Hmph.”
“Don’t Hmph me! Asshole!”
Catherine let out a dramatic sight, her shoulders slumped with disappointment. "Really...? Humans never appreciate generosity."
She scratched the back of her head before turning to the thousands of mechanized killers assembled behind her. They stood motionless, rifles lowered, their glassy optics fixed upon their designated targets. Massive silhouettes of Naga battle tanks idled behind them. Their reactors hummed and hummed like rumbling thunder.
"Well…that's unfortunate." Catherine smiled. "I was hoping to avoid all this paperwork.”
Sahyat got into a defensive position, ready for an all-out clash. "You really are insane."
"Am I?" The feline commander tilted her head. "Nyo, nyo, I think I'm rather compassionate." She spread both arms as though embracing the battlefield itself—the fetid stench of rot and death in all its glory. "Every life taken will become part of something greater. Isn't that beautiful?"
Barim quietly stepped forward. "Commander."
"Hm?"
"Orders."
"..." Catherine's carefree expression vanished. It was neither anger nor excitement; simply duty. "Very well."
She raised one hand into the air, and with that simple gesture, thousands of mechanical eyes illuminated simultaneously.
Click. Click-click. Whirr. Lock.
A wave of metallic sounds swept across the valley. On this battlefield, heroes no longer existed—the supremacy of the flesh had been replaced with the practical might of steel.
"Combat android Corps." Her voice echoed across the battlefield. "Advance."
The first line moved. Then the second. Then the third. 15,000 synchronized footsteps shook the earth. There was no shouting, no battle cry. All that remained was the cold machinery marching with perfect rhythm, all becoming one.
Sahyat's smile disappeared. "They really are doing it..."
Mai'wen never took her eyes off the advancing formation.
Her men were merely 2,500 strong, exhausted, hungry, and drenched in the malaise of despair. And their enemy was no less formidable. 15,000 androids. 200 armored vehicles. Endless ammunition. Tireless soldiers—the situation was nothing short of hopeless.
Her fingers unconsciously tightened around her sword. I have to retreat , she thought. Every instinct screamed that this was the correct decision. Preserve the survivors, reorganize, and fight another day.
That was what a general was supposed to do.
"..." And yet, she could not utter the order.
Behind her stood thousands of soldiers, some missing arms, some wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, and some barely old enough to shave. Every one of them looked toward her, waiting, trusting, hoping in her judgement.
"All units..." her voice croaked. "Retre—!"
Just moments before uttering her command, something caught her attention. Three Mang signatures erupted from the western district, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
One blazed with the fiery conviction of a warrior goddess. One carried an oppressive danger that chilled the senses. The last was strangely hollow—as though empty—yet beneath that emptiness rested limitless potential.
“...They made it!” Sahyat turned to the Third Seat, having too grasped the realization.
“You can feel it too, can’t you, my Lieutenant?”
“Yes ma’am! If that’s who I think it is, then there might be a way to turn this situation around.”
“How long will it take them to arrive?”
“3 minutes. Maybe a few seconds longer.”
“Not a terrible amount of time. I’ll stall for as long as possible. Stay with the rest of our men and prepare for defensive maneuvers. This is an order.”
Sahyat raised her hand to her chest in the Wisterian Imperial salute. “By your leave.”