Opening of the Deathmatch

"Jonas, down. Repair me, repair me."

"Wait, wait, wait—when it's like this, you gotta loop around first."

The mobile terminal robot action game released just days ago.

While Yuusei sips tea, he mocks his usual rival with an unreasonable request.

Gamers are terrifying—play games at home, on the street, anywhere. If your training institution doesn’t require physical attendance, the situation becomes unbearable.

As long as you complete the assigned tasks, there’s nothing left to fear. Pour every resource into the game. That’s all that matters.

Just like this, at his regular café.

"Whoa, hurry, Jonas! My Gannomochi’s getting destroyed!"

"Wait, wait—I’m getting hit too! Nwaaah!"

Yuusei’s robot, legs shattered, retreats inch by inch, shield deployed.

Jonas was met with a merciless ambush as he attempted a flanking rescue.

Both disintegrate cleanly. A pop-style clown mascot zips across the screen, flipping off the display.

This game’s not my style—can’t stand it.

— Sluggish, aren’t you. This isn’t a game of reflexes or thought speed. It’s a test of preparation and calculation.

Customizing the frame is fine. A day slips by just swapping parts.

I see... That's good... Navigator's fine too.

Something about a tall, long-haired black-haired sister... feels like fate.

Jonas, you're getting a real scolding from that elder sister of yours.

Curses crackle from Jonathan Ridge's terminal.

—You piece of filth! Shall I correct you myself?

On the other side of Yusei's terminal, a girl with an expressionless face stared back with a cold gaze. — You have disappointed me.

No, that’s good too. Exciting.

Ah… yeah. Maybe you’re right.

Huh? Yusei, you’re… surprisingly accurate.

What’s with the sudden praise?

Jonathan leans over Yusei’s terminal and starts fiddling with the results screen on his own.

After a moment, he initiates the replay. He toggles between third-person and first-person views, studying the footage in detail.

What’s this? You’ve improved. That reflex speed is insane.

I train.

Wait—your aim’s sharp too. Look, right here. That kill with the gatling gun.

The reticle never strayed from the target’s head.

The scene shows Yusei’s gunmou-chan destroying a lightweight enemy craft zipping through the air at high speed.

You read their movements… perfectly.

This is cheating! Cheater! Cheat machine!

You’re the one with terrible taste in words.

Jonathan slumps back into the chair, laughing uncontrollably.

—Maybe it’s that underground game again.

—Brain training via VR’s been around forever.

—Nowadays? Tennis practice, bonsai cultivation, even hosting virtual parties with VR.

—Games are training too. Daily drills. Constant refinement.

—You said the sensory-link limit was acting up recently.

—A little worried, Yuusei. Think you might fry your cortex from overuse.

—When that happens, smash every terminal in my room.

—There’s stuff inside… too private to show anyone.

—O-oh. Leave it to me.

Yuusei deflects Jonathan’s concern with a laugh. Can’t bring himself to answer seriously.

He’s not entirely convinced himself.

—Alright then. Let’s go again.

——

Alright then, let’s hit them one more time.

——Sytalshia Unified Calendar Year 266. June 4th, 01:35 AM

——Eastern Karaf Continent, Helicway Mountains.

——Sytalshia Allied Forces Operation Code “Super Touchdown”

Operation ID: Io-200

Gusts of wind and sand. The helicopter’s restless hum fills the air in standby mode.

Armor painted with the distinctive grenade pattern. Boomer of the Syndicate Assault Team extends a hand from the Condor.

Io grips it after a brief silence, then climbs into the Syndicate’s Condor.

“What’s wrong, Io?”

“No… nothing. Just déjà vu.”

“Heh heh, killed too many lizards? Plenty more out there.”

The Condor lifts off immediately.

Io feels dazed. Right. The operation has begun.

Charger, the enemy position at Hellicway is obliterated!

No casualties! Repeat, zero casualties to the unit!

Boomer shouting into the terminal. Io watches it blankly.

Good work, Boomer. Your fireworks were confirmed here as well.

Phase one complete. Weedran’s movements proceed as anticipated.

Execute the next assault as per the operational plan.

Naturally. We’re all jumping one rank at once.

Watch yourself—don’t die before earning your new rank insignia.

Following Sergeant Io is harder than passing Sinclair's selection test.

You watch—me and this thing’ll hit them one more time.

Io flexed and unflexed their fingers.

What was I doing just now. Feels like I was playing with a robot of some peculiar shape.

A blue goddess swims through the field of view. She places a hand on Io’s cheek and stares directly into their eyes.

—Agent Io, abnormality detected in consciousness level.

No physical damage confirmed. Anything occurred?

—(Goblet, I was… )

Io shakes their head.

—(No, nothing. Proceed with the operation.)

—This is the moment you speak of.

Io, we will win. Blue Goblet is with you.

—(Poetic sentiment. But you’re not bad, you know.)

—It is an honor. To share in humanity’s dawn.

Blue Goblet offers a mechanical smile, then kisses Io’s cheek.

A kiss from the goddess of victory. Accept it with gratitude.

Io chuckles faintly. Four more Condors follow behind the one Io rides.

Four hours into the operation! Don’t you dare slack off!

Boomer, I’m in peak condition right now.

Then good! Wendigo’s locked in combat—crush the enemy’s flank!

The Condor swarm moves through the night. Night is good. Darkness is good. No chance of losing.

Arrive at the next objective. A bunker built along the riverbank.

Sinclair and allied forces have already begun the assault. The fourth enemy stronghold.

Including concurrent operations, the Sitalskia Coalition has already seized or destroyed seven key enemy positions.

Begin descent! Infiltrate via the alternate route Wendigo designated!

Sinclair Assault! GO! GO! GO!

Io leaps first from the Condor.

Air release from the jump unit. Roll forward, sprint without pause, dive into the underground entrance where allied forces maintain perimeter surveillance.

—Sergeant Io has breached! Repeat! Sergeant Io has breached!

—“Killer” is in! Crush the scaled ones!

—All units accelerate! Resume ground support fire! Keep enemy reinforcements at bay!

Allied cheers surge forward. The sound reaches Little Lady. Shoulders tense. Grip tightens on Raven.

Activate Snake Eye. Track enemy movements. Strike with precision, sometimes cautious, sometimes reckless.

Consistent trait: speed. Sergeant Io always strikes swiftly, exploiting enemy weaknesses, breaching defensive lines in moments.

—Io! Breach ready!

—Do it, Boomer.

—Energy grenade drop! Three, two, one, ignition!

Boomer dropped a special grenade on the enemy command center’s final defensive line.

Defenders and autonomous enemy units deactivated. Io quickly covered and breached.

Light like butterfly scales drifted through the air. Waiting beyond the phosphorescence was Weedran.

Vision warped. Time slowed. Sound faded. Consciousness thinned.

Double tap. Two shots from each end silenced them. No one could stop it now.

Look right.

Left clear!

Right clear. OK, all clear.

Boomer whistled as he scanned every corner of the room beside Io. Typical.

Flames roared. Terminals lay shattered. Piled lizard corpses.

Burn. Io thought. Burn to ash.

Enemy command center secured. Can’t believe it went this smoothly.

What’s the rear echelon doing?

Moving. That was clumsy—snatched their job right out from under them.

Hah, they’re getting bonus cuts.

As long as they don’t hold a grudge.

Boomer plants explosives on the command terminal.

After confirming mission objectives, the deployed unit immediately disengages.

A unit forged through meticulously calculated drills, having threaded through countless brutal engagements. The expendables who never revealed their full combat strength, facing the extreme survival contest with Weedran forces.

They dismantle the enemy with clockwork precision, vanishing exactly as planned.

Ghostlike. Unpredictable.

Strike front, they appear behind; strike back, they split left and right.

They mock the Weedran unit’s movements, continuously flanking and inflicting severe casualties.

Iō! The Weedran forces deployed in Corwell City are causing delays in the operation plan!

Reaper here! Send reinforcements! Enemy strength exceeds our projections!

Enemy主力 turning! Our position has been exposed!

——Give me orders. Deploy me.

Let us witness the dawn together.

——Together, the dawn!

Charger's plan was precise.

A terrifyingly accurate prediction of enemy movements. A meticulously crafted strategy by a man without flaws.

And a backup for unforeseen circumstances. Io-200.

How many times now? Io descended from Condor.

Dawn is approaching. The sun peeking over the horizon is beautiful.

Darkness grants strength.

But even under the sun, I will not fall behind the lizards.

Enemy aircraft confirmed! Galdra!

Galdra?

Why wasn’t this detected?! Already within enemy range!

Look up at the sky. A flight unit shaped like a stocky, shark-like creature looms above.

Massive. At least three times the size of Tomas.

Its dark purple armor quivered. With a low hum—“Galdra” opened the weapon latch on the upper hull.

—Crouch!

Boomer slammed into Io, sending him tumbling.

Galdra’s fire. A low, thunderous tone. Resonant, like a growl.

A pale blue energy bolt struck the Condor dead-on. Clearly not a physical round.

The Condor appeared unharmed—then lost control and crashed.

Io and Boomer caught in the fall. Rushing toward the crumpled frame, the pilot convulsed, spitting blood.

—He’s dead already.

‘Abort descent. All units disengage!’

—Wait, wait, wait—leaving us behind?

This is right in the middle of the enemy!

'Alert! We're hit!

Damn it, damn it—run, Boomer!'

The second unit takes fire. Condor and the others accelerate away from Garada.

'Io! Evacuate now! We'll be spotted here!'

Korwe City. Just like the other cities we've seen—ruined by war.

Friendly presence and lizard signals. Gunfire never stops. Explosions ring out without pause.

'Agent Io, "Red Crest" confirmed.

Simultaneous spike in surrounding data flow. We're being surrounded.

This is a trap. Targeting Agent Io, predicted.'

Me as the target? Don't know. When did I become a known face to the lizards?

Leaping over rubble, Io slides into a nearby building, grinning fiercely.

'Boomer, enemy incoming. We've been set up.'

Ah? So that’s how it is—now it’s getting interesting.

Good. Then let’s go with Plan B. What’s Plan B?

You kidding? You think I’d remember something like that?

Check Raven’s status. No damage.

The original objective—breaking enemy lines—failed.

Io and Boomer are stranded behind enemy lines.

So what? No problem. Nothing’s changed.

“Raven Unit, contact.”

Coming in, Boomer!