The night regained its serenity, with a luminous moon suspended in the distant sky, adorned by diamond-like stars scattered across a gossamer veil of darkness. A gentle breeze drifted through the forest, carrying away traces of fear.
At the cave's entrance, beast-like machines formed an impenetrable circular wall. Tanks fortified the rear, while terrified soldiers swarmed the mountain like ants, transforming it into a human carpet.
"Your Excellency, we've reached the destination. Proceed with airdrop?" Hideaki received the pilot's transmission in the cockpit.
"Is it time?" Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he replied, "Yes, deploy!"
He secured his harness tightly.
On the ground, the crowd witnessed two colossal transport planes emerge in the sky, trailing a machine that clashed starkly with the night. Its pristine white form seemed a mockery of the darkness.
"Altitude: 3,700 meters…
Wind speed: 10 kilometers per hour…
Unit One, fully prepared…" the first pilot's voice crackled.
"Altitude: 3,700 meters…
Wind speed: 10 kilometers per hour…
Unit Two, fully prepared…" a second, unfamiliar voice followed.
"Release!" Hideaki gripped the control stick.
At his command, the massive cables snapped simultaneously from both planes, and the connectors on the Yamata unit disengaged in unison. The hulking Yamata plummeted like a meteor, its crab-like limbs splaying outward, gradually slowing its descent. The cables, each weighing five tons, crashed onto the road, shattering the concrete surface and upheaving solid slabs. The impact's roar rivaled a TNT explosion.
"Activate jet system!" Hideaki, unfazed by the nearing ground, issued the order. At 3,700 meters, a single misstep would turn even the Yamata—or a solid iron block—into a flattened disc.
As he commanded, four small nozzles emerged from the ends of the four limbs, expelling immense bursts of compressed gas. At the brink of catastrophe, the scene froze. The massive Yamata heavy weapon landed steadily, as if as light as a feather.
"System auto-calibrating…" Hideaki exhaled deeply. Suspended in the air for over an hour had been unsettling; solid ground felt reassuring.
The once-dull white frame gradually gleamed silver, rivaling the moon's radiance.
"Weapon systems: fully operational…
Mobility systems: fully operational…
Control systems: fully operational…
Energy systems: fully operational…
Secret weapon systems: fully operational…
Unit in primary combat mode. Adjust combat level?" the synthesized voice droned monotonously.
"Elevate to double-S!" Hideaki declared, the obvious choice.
"Double-S mode requires designation of a hypothetical enemy for verification before activation…" In essence, the system needed to confirm the opponent's worthiness for full engagement.
"Hypothetical enemy…" Hideaki stated firmly, "Chinese Task Force 7, Sniper Division, 13."
"Analyzing, please standby…" A progress bar appeared on the screen, leaping two increments before instantly completing.
"Hypothetical enemy confirmed. Double-S combat mode activated…"
Perhaps it was an illusion, but distant soldiers swore the white machine glowed brighter. The diamond-shaped lenses resembling eyes on Yamata's head ignited with fiery red light.
In the cockpit, Hideaki crossed his arms, seated, eyes closed, awaiting the other protagonist's entrance.
Inside the research institute, the dozens of intruding beast machines had been nearly eradicated, ninety-five percent felled by the three furious "mechanics." Strangely, no more beasts appeared at the elevator, as if intimidated.
With measured steps, everyone gathered in the control room. Seeing the familiar figure of 13 standing before them, a calm reassurance washed over all—soldiers, scientists, and researchers alike. This was 13's charisma: China's "Sniper King," the world's ultimate lone soldier, the SEED launcher. Any one of these titles could ignite hope in those facing adversity.
"How do you feel?" the elder asked with a smile.
"Not bad, like waking from a dream," 13 replied truthfully.
"I told you this guy's tougher than a cockroach. No way he'd die," 36 quipped, a compliment only the task force would understand.
"Good to have you back…" 24 said calmly, though 13 noticed the glimmer of tears and the faint tremor in her frame.
"Mm," 13's simple affirmation steadied 24's heart.
"Though I'm not your biggest fan, thanks for saving our lady," Uncle said with earnest sincerity.
"It's what I do," 13 replied, seeing no distinction between saving her and protecting himself.
Yet Zhenxian's heart warmed quietly.
"By the way, 13," the elder raised his most pressing concern, "the serpent—did you activate it?"
"If you mean that black earthworm, I brought it along," 13 said, still unable to accept calling it a serpent.
"You actually activated it?!" Though 13's survival was proof, the elder could scarcely believe it.
"Want to see it? I can summon it," 13 said, tapping his helmet.
"I get it, I get it," the serpent sighed mournfully, resigned to frequent "showcases" while tied to 13.
Connecting to the control room's main screen, a brief flicker of static gave way to a white void where the serpent's plump form appeared center-stage, striking what it deemed a resolute pose.
"Isn't that supposed to be a serpent? Looks like an earthworm," Madman asked 13 curiously, who could only shake his head and shrug.
"More like a waterlogged black rubber hose…" Uncle's imagination ran wild.
"Kinda resembles a sea cucumber," Baozhu mused, pondering culinary possibilities.
"Don't judge by appearances…" 1 offered a kinder remark, though it still implied ugliness.
"…" 24 remained silent, unable to find words.
"Looks like a giant black…" The group swiftly silenced 36, as the serpent's on-screen glare could kill.
Yet amidst the mockery, the researchers wept uncontrollably, even the elder shedding silent tears. 36 stared, incredulous.
How could they understand? Every soul in the institute had poured their lifeblood into this black entity. Sleepless nights debugging, coding over stale bread—all for this moment, to see it manifest. With each launcher's death, their hearts had withered. The serpent's silent presence was validation of their toil.
"Save the tears for later, yeah? I found something interesting…" The serpent, dismissing their insults as human ignorance, shifted focus.
The screen changed, the serpent shrinking to a corner. A highway camera from a small town appeared, meant for catching traffic violators but now capturing the world's greatest "offender." The silver-white Yamata stood motionless at a crossroads. Fortunately, the Japanese had cleared nearby towns, or traffic chaos would have been unsolvable.
"What is that?" everyone wondered in unison.
"While you were mocking me, I compiled its data," the serpent said, proving its prowess as a support system. "'Yamata,' derived from Japanese mythology's eight-headed serpent. The pinnacle of Japan's scientific ingenuity, developed over twenty years by Noah Tech. Its design is impressive, even to me. Its four crab-like limbs achieve 230 kilometers per hour on flat terrain. Powered by nuclear energy, its combat duration is limited only by the pilot's endurance. Its weapon systems cover long, medium, short ranges, and aerial targets. The control system is the world's most advanced, perfectly translating the pilot's thoughts into actions. If the pilot's a martial arts master, so is the machine. There's also a secret weapon system, but Japan's guarded its details tightly. I'm still searching, but it'll take time."
The listeners' hearts quaked with each revelation.
"I want to know its weaknesses," 13 asked calmly, as if the formidable foe was inconsequential.
"My apologies," the serpent said, a rare admission to 13. "So far, I've found no flaws."
"A weapon without weaknesses?" 36 scoffed, disbelieving.
"Based on my data, Yamata uses seamless dense-assembly technology, with a defensive mesh of Titan metal at every joint. Conventional human weapons can't touch its internals. Its Titan metal, over seventy percent pure superalloy, is the toughest human-made metal on Earth," the serpent stated without exaggeration.
The control room fell silent.
With a faint sigh, 13 posed a chilling question: "Can SEED destroy it?"
Hearts constricted, the air thick with suffocating dread.
"Absolutely not!" the task force trio shouted in unison.
"If it's SEED, nothing in its range can survive. Your seed could annihilate anything. But haven't you noticed? SEED has a fatal flaw…" the serpent answered honestly.
The room quieted again. They'd witnessed it in Taipei. SEED's flaw likely referred to the mortal risk to its launcher.
"You noticed too?" 13 asked, puzzled.
"I get bored in the system and surf the net. Fun fact: I edited and uploaded your Taipei fight with the elf. That godlike power? It rivals mine…" The serpent's boast drew eye-rolls. "I studied its flaws. Beyond the near-certain death of the launcher, there's an uncorrectable defect: the five-second delay before firing."
13 smiled, confirming the serpent's accuracy. It was a flaw only he knew. Once SEED was chambered, the trigger locked for five seconds, delaying the shot.
"How'd you figure that out?" 13 asked, curious.
"Simple," the serpent smirked on-screen. "On that rooftop, after chambering SEED, you didn't fire immediately. You climbed the antenna, seemingly for a better vantage, but I knew you were stalling. You calculated precisely—jumping 0.5 seconds after the five-second lock, then pulling the trigger. Your little trick didn't fool me."
"You're one all-knowing freak," 13 sighed, a backhanded compliment.
The serpent took it as praise.
"So, in combat, I strongly advise against using SEED," the serpent said seriously. "From what I know, during the launch, your body freezes for the final 0.5 seconds."
"That's the calibration pause," 13 explained to the group. "When triggered, ambient free ions gather, and the intense pressure causes a brief bodily halt. Compressing it to 0.5 seconds is my limit."
"Normally, 0.5 seconds is negligible," the serpent continued. "But my data shows Japan's spent two years studying this exact vulnerability. Logically, Yamata has a way to counter it—by killing you before you fire."
13 remained silent.
"Killing you won't stop SEED's eruption," the serpent added, "but without a controller, the explosion changes. Unpiloted, SEED expands in place, like Taipei's devouring phenomenon, but far slower. The ion cluster grows like rising dough, at about one kilometer per hour, until it reaches its maximum range, persisting over three days."
"That slow? The enemy would just escape," 36 pointed out.
"I understand. Thanks for the explanation," 13 said, unfazed.
He turned and walked out. It took a moment for the others to react, but seven quickly followed.
The elder sighed softly behind them.
As 13 left, the serpent vanished from the screen, retreating to the night's computer.
"What are you planning?" Madman asked calmly.
"To fight, obviously. If we don't stop that thing, none of us are leaving," 13 replied naturally.
"Didn't you hear the 'sea cucumber' say it's flawless?" Baozhu, unusually, tried to dissuade him.
"Flawless or not, I have to fight," 1 answered for 13. As his comrades, they knew 13's resolve. For him, no matter how hopeless or deadly the battle, if it required him, he'd never retreat.
Zhenxian, trembling, stopped her team from saying more. "I'll wait for you. Come back soon…" she said, striving to sound steady.
"Mm," 13 replied without turning.
That was enough.