Sprinting down the staircase, I burst onto the rafters overlooking the concrete abyss of the ODC's command centre. Below, the battle unfolded in brutal spectacle—Boötes staggered as the Freiheit Knight swept its leg into the back of his knee, sending the massive Constellation Knight crashing to the ground. Sparks flared as his joints groaned in protest.
The enemy knight raised its electrified hammer, poised to bring it down like a judge's gavel, but then—the gaps in Boötes' armour pulsed with an eerie white light.
The hammer struck nothing.
It passed straight through Boötes as though he weren't even there, despite the very real sight of his towering, rag-draped form.
"Damn, ghost!" The insurgent inside the Freiheit Knight bellowed over his speakers, furious. He swung again, hurling his weapon through the retreating Boötes. No impact. No resistance. Just empty air, like striking smoke.
Boötes fell backward, phasing through solid concrete as if it were mist. The enemy's hammer, denied its target, slammed into the wall with a resounding boom, cracking the reinforced structure.
"Face me properly, coward! Stop playing around!"
Boötes materialized back through the wall, lunging with spectral grace as the white light surrounding him faded. He swung the staff of his scythe in a brutal arc, slamming it into the Freiheit Knight's torso, making it lurch forward. But before Boötes' glow could return, the enemy knight drove an elbow into his chest, sending him flying backward—through the wall once more.
I stood frozen for a heartbeat, watching in awe.
"Molecular frequency displacement technology," I murmured. "So that's Boötes' Constellation Drive in action..."
The ability to phase through solid matter—an intangible spectre in the battlefield. And yet... he still loses a pilot every three years?
A curse was the only explanation that made sense. Nothing else could explain how such an ability failed to keep his pilots alive.
But right now, theory didn't matter.
Boötes and Alex were losing. Not just in raw strength, but in battle skill.
I had to slow the Freiheit Knight down—buy them an opening to finish it.
An idea struck.
Ripping the bag from my waist, I bolted across the rafters, keeping my eyes locked on the thrashing giants below. Inside the bag: EMPs, fragmentation grenades—nothing strong enough to punch through a knight's armour, but if I could hit the right spot...
[Pilot, this plan may not work.] Andromeda's voice crackled through my helmet. [The enemy knight has high electric resistance built into its frame. Your explosives will do little damage.]
"I'm not aiming for damage," I whispered, ducking as Boötes narrowly avoided another hammer strike. "What if I go for the power cells?"
Silence for half a second. Then:
[Destabilizing the fusion cells with an EMP grenade could trigger an internal explosion.] A pause. [Theoretically.]
I crouched low, gripping a rafter as the battle raged beneath me. "The vault door controls are fried, so I can't open them for you. See if you can break them."
Below, Boötes phased out of the wall again, catching the enemy knight off guard. He surged forward and uppercut the enemy with a gauntleted fist, sending the massive machine staggering.
"Alex," I called through the comms. "You need to remove the knight's armour along its left pelvis. I'll take it from there."
"Copy! But what are you doing? I'm getting pushed back here! Where are you?!"
"You'll know soon."
I pulled an EMP grenade from my hip and crushed the activation cap. Then, lining up my shot, I dropped it.
It landed perfectly inside the knight's shoulder joint.
"Three... two... go now!"
Boötes reappeared as the enemy twisted to block his scythe. Then—BANG.
A crackling wave of electric interference surged through the knight's frame. Its joints locked.
"What?! You had a fucking helper, you coward?!"
Boötes swung, carving his scythe into the knight's waist. The armour barely dislodged—but it was enough. A sliver of green light leaked out.
The fusion core.
The enemy knight broke free from the EMP stun, swinging its hammer into Boötes' side before he could follow through. The impact sent him crashing into a steaming pipe with a metallic shriek.
"After I deal with you, I'll find your rat of a helper," the insurgent spat. "I wanna hear you pop under my foot. Get out here, coward!"
I moved.
Jumping off the rafters, I shot my left arm forward—activating the grapple glove Maya had gifted me. It latched onto the knight's armour and yanked me toward its torso.
"Huh?" The enemy's sensors picked me up immediately. A moment later, the pilot spotted me climbing onto him.
Perfect.
I shoved my entire bag of explosives into the gap by the fusion cell.
"Making this too easy for me, aren't you?" the insurgent sneered.
I jumped off before he could react, but his massive arm swung for me anyway—just missing as I reeled myself back up to the rafters with the grapple.
"Oh no, you—"
Boötes tackled the knight, stopping him mid-motion.
"Bastard! Stop struggling!"
The knight snarled and retaliated, driving his hammer into Boötes' side.
Metal crunched.
Alex screamed.
"Argh!!" His voice crackled in my helmet. "My arm! I can't feel my arm anymore!"
Boötes staggered, his right side crushed, his arm flattened. Alex, overwhelmed by the pain, started crawling away inside the cockpit.
"I'll deal with you in a bit," the insurgent spat. "Now where's that rat hiding?"
My blood ran cold.
The knight hurled its massive hammer upward. The entire rafter suspension collapsed.
I fell.
Crashing down into the rubble, I barely managed to roll into cover beneath the wreckage. My breath was shallow, heart pounding in my ears. If I stayed still—
A shadow loomed.
"Found you~."
The knight stared right at me.
I tried to move—too late.
It stepped forward.
[NO!] Boötes pushed himself up, trying to stop him—
The enemy knight flicked him aside like an insect.
[Pilot... Firefly...] Boötes' voice wavered.
The knight's shadow loomed over me, and for the first time in my life, I understood true fear. That creeping, suffocating sensation of death curling its fingers around my throat.
Why did I think this would work?
Why did I come down here?
Boötes could have escaped this room at any moment. Alex was no match for this knight, and now I was staring up at a raised foot, moments away from being crushed.
"Heh. G'night, little rat." The knight sneered, bringing its foot up to stomp me into the ground.
"Andromeda..." My voice trembled as I cowered back, as if calling his name could save me. "Andy...!"
BOOM.
The vault doors behind the steel giant exploded outward. A railgun shot slammed into the knight's shoulder, knocking him just enough off-balance for me to dive out of the way before the heavy foot came crashing down.
"You damn pests just kee—"
CRASH!
A tank flew through the air, smashing into the knight with enough force to hurl him into the far wall. In the next second, Andromeda kicked the knight straight into the vault door, shearing off his own leg in the process. The severed limb crashed beside me as Andromeda surged forward, slicing off the knight's hammer-wielding arm before pinning him against the corner with a fierce blast of purgatory fire from his palm.
"W-WAIT! SPARE ME! PLEASE!" The enemy pilot thrashed in his cockpit, struggling uselessly against Andromeda's steel grip. Desperation filled his voice as his remaining leg flailed, unable to reach Andromeda. "I surrender!"
Andromeda's fingers clenched.
A wet crunch echoed through the chamber as the pilot's body was crushed into a red smear. Without hesitation, Andromeda incinerated what remained, reducing him to nothing but dust in the wind.
Still not finished, Andromeda reached for his fallen sword, dragging its edge through the vault door before plunging it deep into the knight's exposed cockpit. The dim light within flickered and died as the enemy knight's spirit energy faded—its connection to its now-erased pilot severed forever.
A moment of silence fell over the battlefield.
Then, Andromeda turned to me—and collapsed.
The impact sent a quake through the ground, knocking me off my feet.
[Are you alright, Firefly?] His voice was calm, as if he hadn't just torn through an enemy knight with the cold efficiency of a reaper.
Panting beneath my helmet, I gave him a shaky thumbs-up, still reeling from how close I'd been to dying. "Good save."
Andromeda mirrored my gesture, lifting his remaining hand to return a thumbs-up.
[Check on pilot Cyonis, Firefly. I will attempt to reattach my leg using parts from the deceased knight. The ODC will fire in twenty-three minutes. No enemy reinforcements detected.]
He dragged his severed thigh back toward himself and began his grim task of self-repair.
I needed a moment. Just one minute to process how close I'd been to death. But I didn't have the luxury. Move, I told myself. Find a distraction. Do anything but think about what just happened.
I turned to Boötes.
Boötes lay fallen on its left side, the tattered remnants of its chest plating struggling to open. The right-side hatch was jammed, caught between broken upper and lower plates, leaving only the left side exposed.
Inside the cockpit, sparks danced wildly.
Alex sat slumped in his seat, his teeth gritted in pain. Blood dripped into his eyes from a gash on his scalp, and—
His right arm.
A jagged piece of Boötes' own cockpit plating had pierced straight through his arm, impaling it to his seat.
"Alex!" Unclipping him as fast as I could, I pulled him free and set him down on the ground, laying him in Boötes' view. He cried out in agony, his body shuddering from the pain.
I yanked my medical kit open, grabbing everything I could. Shoving a syringe of morphine into his shoulder, I tried to keep my voice steady. "You're going to be okay. We just need to get you to a doctor."
Alex's breaths were ragged. "I... I can't feel my right hand," he muttered, his voice weak. His left hand shakily wiped at the blood in his eyes. "How bad is it?"
I hesitated.
And then, because I couldn't bring myself to lie, I answered, "Bad. Pretty bad."
Alex laughed.
It was a delirious, morphine-hazed chuckle, his lips curling into a shaky smile. "Ah... You know, I always wanted a prosthetic arm. Always thought they looked so cool when I was a kid."
I pressed my fingers against the metal still lodged in his arm, trying to decide whether to pull it out or leave it. It was the only thing stopping him from bleeding out faster, but the longer it stayed, the less chance we had of saving his arm.
I didn't know enough.
"You think I'll look cool with a robot arm?" Alex asked weakly.
I tightened the bandages around his arm, securing it as best I could before applying a tourniquet around his bicep. "If you think you will, then yeah."
"That's a horrible answer," he groaned.
"Shut up, Alex."
He groaned again, but then his expression shifted. He squinted up at the ruined ceiling, the glow of the charging Orbital Defence Cannon bleeding through the cracks. "Hey... take me outside," he murmured. "I want to see the fireworks when the orbital cannon fires."
He hissed through his teeth as another wave of pain rolled through him, but his grin didn't fade. "C'mon. Not like I want the last thing I see to be this grey-ass ceiling, hehe..."
"You're not going to die," I said firmly.
Still, I humoured him.
Finding a rag big enough to use as a makeshift stretcher, I carefully placed him on top and grabbed the edges, dragging him outside into the night.
Above us, the sky was burning.
Explosions cascaded across the void, flashing in and out of existence like dying stars. The silhouettes of warring fleet ships loomed against the backdrop of distant, smouldering nebulae. And at the centre of it all, the ODC, its crimson coils spiralling with terrifying energy as it prepared to fire.
Alex exhaled shakily.
I gave him another dose of morphine.
"Oh yeah," he sighed, relaxing into the stretcher. "That feels so much fucking better."
A sharp, metallic scrape echoed from behind.
Andromeda hobbled into view, balancing on his single remaining leg, using his sword as a crutch. Behind him, Boötes was being dragged—held by his shattered arm, while his one good arm clutched Andromeda's severed thigh.
Andromeda made it a few more steps before his last leg gave out, and with a resounding crash, Andromeda's head went straight through the building's wall.
Alex let out a weak wheeze of laughter. "Hahaha...!"
Even in agony, even drugged out of his mind, he could still find humour in the sight. He barely had the energy to move, but he didn't need to. Alex just laid there, watching the sky burn.
Victory at a cost
Exhaustion weighed on me like lead, heavier than I'd ever felt before. My limbs ached, my breath was ragged inside my pilot helmet, but the question still left my lips:
"There's no attacks coming, is there?"
[Negative,] Andromeda confirmed, his voice calm and certain. Relief washed over me as he shifted his massive form, resting his metal arms against the earth like a titan lying down after battle.
[The signal jamming prevents long-distance communication between bases,] he continued. [According to the command centre's database, messenger couriers are used instead of transmissions. The only reason the jammers don't work around the cannon is due to the strong electrical interference in the atmosphere from its core. It acts as a shield.]
"Thank the Empress," I muttered, pulling the flare gun from my hip. Raising it to the darkened sky, I fired.
A bright blue flare shot upward, bathing the battlefield in an eerie light, stark against the distant flashes of orbital warfare above.
Alex, still lightheaded from blood loss and dazed by the morphine, blinked at the glowing signal. "Eh? Are the fireworks already starting?"
I glanced at him. His bandages were holding, but the slowed blood loss was still taking its toll. I had to keep him awake. "Five more minutes," I said, watching the sky.
And then, the orbital defence cannon unleashed its fury.
A thunderous horn sounded, signalling the charge sequence. Crackling energy built up at the cannon's core, growing into a swirling maelstrom of red. And then—
BOOM.
A hellish crimson beam erupted from the cannon, slicing through the heavens like divine judgment. In the planet's thermosphere, a Freiheit warship was eviscerated, its wreckage spiralling downward in a burning death dance.
The cannon repositioned. Another charge. Another monstrous blast. This time, two warships caught in proximity imploded, their shattered hulls colliding before plummeting like twin falling stars.
The onslaught continued. The deafening echoes of destruction filled the air as the cannon tore through ship after ship. The Freiheit forces broke, their fleet pulling back in full retreat. By the time the cannon ceased firing, nineteen enemy warships had fallen from the sky.
Victory was ours.
Above us, Nymphas warships moved into position, reclaiming the atmosphere. Reinforcements had arrived.
And at the same time, Lance-Corporal Evans finally reached our captured compound.
He took one look at the four of us—bloodied, battered, slumped against the walls, each of us worse for wear in our own way—and scoffed.
"You guys look like shit."