Enemy Vanguard Assault

Made it by the skin of my teeth before departure

Io, where the hell have you been? We managed to catch the final transport. Now we’re just waiting our turn. Get over here quickly.

I can’t believe it, but you’re not planning to stay behind, are you?

No matter how you look at it, further operational action— I absolutely won’t authorize it. That’s enough.

Answer me. I want to hear your voice.’

Io stood at the westernmost edge of the Oxanun Defense Grid, at the outer perimeter, finalizing equipment checks.

Messages streamed in nonstop from Crewk. Not just Crewk—every one of the 3552 boy soldiers was pleading for Io to return.

Ignoring all of them, he was here now. What happens if he answers the comms? No need to imagine.

—Yualis Barley. Last commander of the Karaaf Front Army’s evacuation.

Yualis’s speech begins. His voice, echoing from comms and speakers, seeps into every corner of Oxanun’s streets, where breath is held and Weedrun waits in ambush.

“Begin, Io.”

Hartie’s voice comes from atop the massive dome-shaped shield generator stationed at a critical point along the defense line.

This is a chokepoint connecting to Oxanun’s main street. The most fortified position. The one most frequently targeted by enemy assaults.

Io nods to Hartie. His gaze drops to Little Lady.

Send a message to search for Misha 3552.

Nothing elaborate. Just tell the remaining boy soldiers to stay quiet and board the vessel.

That was all. Utterly simple.

——... I have no means to repay your sacrifice. But this is the burden all members of the Allied Forces must carry.

Michelle demanded communication immediately.

Io responded for the first time.

“Michelle. No children around?”

——‘Io, stop being reckless. Qui will cry. Come back quickly.’

“Michelle. You’re the oldest in the unit. Look after the children. Calm them down. Get them on the ship.”

‘No one’ll accept that unless you come back yourself!’

‘Calm down. This is necessary. Protect the ship they’re on.’

‘So it’s our fault after all? I… we haven’t given you anything yet.’

‘I want nothing. Our only wish is for you to survive.

Anything else—just means the lizards are dead.’

Jump unit sound. Multiple units.

Higher output than standard. Distinctive pitch. But familiar. I’ve heard this before.

A spearhead of Oxanun's elite, encased in heavy assault armor—Sarmatian Heavy Cavalry appeared.

Sergeant Io—Cavalry arrival! Deploy immediately!

"Late, Sarmatian."

Who are you talking to?—Huh? Isn't it little cutie? Not bad for a doll, huh?

The Sarmatian commander slaps Io's shoulder with a hearty laugh. Io shakes his head.

Second meeting. Overly familiar. Strange, but not unpleasant.

"Cutting loose."

Wait—just let me hit Qulie first."

"Battle begins."

Communication severed. Io looks up at the sky. Yuaris's speech continues.

—To keep your family, your lover, even slightly distant from harm.

Officially, I cannot openly command death. So this is all I can say.

Fight until the end. Fulfill your duty.

‘Tell that damn beanpole to stop stalling and issue the attack order already.’

Commander Salmatia looked ready to fire a lead round at any moment.

Hartie returned shortly after double-checking troop placements and battle coordination, offering a wry smile toward Salmatia.

‘Recon team and drones have locked onto enemy vanguard. Predicted as expected—this sector will be the fiercest engagement.

—Enter combat formation!’

Shield generators activated. Multiple blue barriers spread with a series of small detonations, forming a line.

An unprecedented high-output Defender. So powerful it temporarily disabled surrounding equipment due to signal interference.

Yet this was anticipated. Soldiers reset their downed comms and optical sights with practiced ease, then slapped shoulders with nearby comrades.

—All units, engagement authorized. Hold your ground. Protect your comrades. That is all I have to say.

(Goblet)

Yes

(There were supposed to be many things I wanted to tell you, but I'll set them aside for now. There's no need for them anyway.

Kill the lizards. Please.

Combat support, ready.

Nano-machine operational efficiency updated to maximum. Excellent. 'Always the latest you is the strongest.'

Ah yes. Io’s body was at peak performance before the fight.

Ioh-200 proves its worth only when broken beyond repair.

A secondhand fighting spirit. Like a wounded beast, Io trembles with fury.

Artillery fire commencing! Enemy deploying Tomas defensive units at the forefront!

No change in作战 plan! We hold position until friendly support and jamming are fully operational… ggh!

The roar cut through Hartie’s shout.

The defensive weapons of Oxanun, already online, initiated attack.

Intercepting Weedran’s large missiles. A vast, black cumulonimbus cloud spreading across the sky.

Countless shells fired from allied units pierced through it—just before impact, Tomas defensive units deployed as Defenders, deflecting the projectiles.

‘No need to conserve ammo! Fire everything you’ve got! Order concluded!’

The black cumulonimbus cloud, once a passage point for shells, was riddled with holes—resembling a honeycomb.

A spreading black smoke, ominous in the sky—gradually being erased by friendly artillery fire.

…Timing it right, close-quarters combat! We’ll crush the Tomas!

Sarma-tia personnel, prepare plasma lances!

The lizards don’t care about friendly fire! Miss the close defense and we’re all dead!

One by one, elite troops converge on Ioh.

Selected hunters from the remaining Karaaf Front Army—those with exceptional combat will and skill.

Attach energy bayonets!

...Holy hell. A bayonet charge like this... What year is it now, anyway?

Hartie grins, eyes flickering. Each bayonet measures at least twelve centimeters. Ioh follows suit.

Press the switch at the hilt firmly—the blade flares pale blue. Not bad.

Everyone clear? Don’t fixate on the bayonets. That’s all—this is just a tactical advantage in certain situations.

Melee combat is a last resort. … Still, the look of this one isn’t bad.

The soldiers chuckle in response to Hartie’s words.

A tech officer dashes over, still manipulating equipment beside Io and the others.

—Fire from the armor units is ineffective! Proceed as planned—once the enemy crosses the designated line, deploy the nanomachine smoke! After that, only air support remains!

That’s your cue.

Hartie nods. He reaches out to Io.

High five. No particular meaning. Around them, assault troops embrace comrades or clash fists, boosting morale in their own ways.

—Hey you two. Sudden question. I’ve got something to tell you. Listen carefully.

Commander Salmatia speaks, her helmet visor flashing light.

Probably... the assault will succeed. We're special tough guys even among the field army. And Sergeant Io's here.

But we won't meet again on the homeland. We don't have a ship.

Oliver, what's wrong all of a sudden?

Well, no deep meaning. Just felt like saying it.

Not many will survive. But no matter when, no matter how we die...

we're brothers.

Sergeant Io grins, steps close, and hugs Oliver with exaggerated force.

The warmth of the active assault armor. The rough texture. Too big to wrap arms around the back, but fine.

A sharp slap on the shoulder. After the embrace, he shoves Oliver away.

Let's go, brother. Ready?

Oliver gives a thumbs-up.

The technician shouts in anger.

Armored unit, cease attack! No effective impact! Tomas is too hard!

Enemy is breaching the line!

— Wide-area jamming! Nanomachine smoke deployment ready!

Multi-legged tank goes first! Special assault team, go in!

The tank unit launched a confident transmission and began advancing past the defensive line.

Extreme offensive defense, one might say. The Oxanun defense force cannot even conduct delaying actions without destroying the enemy vanguard, Tomas.

Sergeant Io, give the order!

Io roared.

Everyone, follow me!

Io surged forward, activating the jump unit.

He gripped the stairs of the fourteen-meter defensive wall built around Oxanun, then released compressed air to vault over it.

Four Condors cut through the sky. Heavily armed, modified Condors rained fire and lead across the battlefield, scattering chaff as they advanced.

Bullets and flames. They landed like scattered debris on the scorched, damp, cracked wasteland—rolling, then sprinting like they were flying.

The selected hunters followed behind. A swarm of Fireflies plunged into the combat zone.

Too many to count. Flying in chaotic hundreds, disorganized, a true swarm.

—Plasma Lancer, close-range defense initiated!

Sarmatia activated the equipment mounted on her shoulder rack.

Unnatural in appearance. Resembling a vertically stacked harmonica.

Countless crimson-black flashes erupted from eight vertical rows and three horizontal rows of launch ports.

—Don’t stop! Keep the Fireflies at bay!

Micro-missile standby!

Agent Io cuts through the Firefly swarm closing in with violent sweeps.

Salmatia expands its coverage, forming an independent formation to support the selected hunters.

Move up!

Io's shout sends everyone scrambling forward in desperate pursuit.

Explosions of gunpowder and plasma light. Shells streaking overhead. Rain of death in flight.

The next instant, a madness-laden wasteland where death feels inevitable. Distant lizard roars. Allied cries of pain.

Agent Io, enemy infantry has shifted to defend Tomas.

Blue Goblet points to the advancing route. The data displayed in the field of view indicates the enemy force has reformed its formation 700 meters ahead.

Prepare for engagement!

A friendly tank exploded before Io’s eyes. A multi-legged segment tore free and flew through the air; the turret was crushed and spewing fire.

The crew couldn’t have survived. No time to evacuate.

The terrain rose slightly, forming a small hillock. If Io slid into that spot, the engineering unit would pass him by and deploy a portable shield unit.

—Shield deployment. Engineering unit, assume position.

To the left, then further left. Layer upon layer, the shields unfolded in sequence.

Io vanished behind the cover, waiting for the rear to arrive.

—Enemy targeting you.

A long-range shot. A pale blue light struck the shield and shattered.

Io peered forward through a gap in the armor. Thick silver mist rising in waves. Beyond the nanomachine smoke.

—(Where’s Snake Eye?)

—Effectiveness range exceeded—

Enemy attacks intensified. Condor, providing air support, was struck down. Survivors executed rapid reorientation and fled to safety.

Countless Fireflies surged after them. Clinging to Condor, detonating one by one from the point of attachment. Suicide strikes.

Condor’s formation shattered. Metal fragments scattered as it fell into the combat zone.

—Hartie, we need new support for insertion!

—This is Hartie Goodman. Condor unit is down!

Send reinforcements!

Before command could respond, a friendly tank unit answered.

—This is Onyx Tank Squad! We’ll be your shield!

—Can you do it?

—Tell that killer among our ranks! Don’t let us die in vain!

—Advance! Advance! Onyx Squad leads the charge!

The multi-legged tank unit, locked in fierce combat, launched a forced offensive.

Not much time had passed since the battle began, but the tank unit, caught squarely in the full brunt of Weedran’s pre-emptive barrage, had suffered devastating losses.

Yet that was precisely their purpose.

Enemy fire faltered—just for a moment—as supporting artillery struck from behind. The tanks surged forward through the gap.

—Selected team, just a little more!—

Io’s voice cracked with urgency. Words he didn’t need to say spilled out.

—Give me your lives!—

The engineering unit’s shield deployment disengaged. Armor panels were stripped away and thrust forward.

A plasma rifle pierced the exposed armor. Io drove forward, muscles taut, refusing to stagger.

—Hartie’s voice cut through the static— Nanomachine smoke on the other side, they’re seeing us. Don’t know how, but they’re seeing us!

Three from the elite scout team broke off, raising grenade launchers.

Io directed suppression fire toward the direction of the sniper. High-explosive rounds shredded hundreds of square meters, halting the targeting on Io.

—This kind of outdated warfare…—

Hartie snatched the shield from Io and stepped forward, shielding him.

—Guess we’re finally getting to taste this, huh?!

Small shadow. Large shadow. Movement all around.

Hartie passed the shield to Io. Free-handed, Io raised the Raven.

Counterfire. Felt like a few were down. Visibility lost in black smoke, rising mud, gunsmoke, nanomachine fog. Details obscured.

Just chaos. Moving forward without exposing body from the ridge line.

Onyx Tank Squad, closing with the enemy! Elite Scout, leave the rest to you!

A detonation flares in the distance. Whether enemy or allied, destruction has been wrought.

Either way, our forces continue combat. Infantry and armored units positioned over there—must be a hellish scene.

Our supporting artillery impact point draws near. Enemy is close. Right in front. Within range to charge in one breath.

Little Lady raises her voice.

—Cease fire! Cease fire! This is Io, beginning penetration!

—Understood. That’s the final artillery support! Leave it to you, Diamond Frame!

The last artillery strike lands in the field thick with nanomachine smoke. Countless bursts erupt, and to sustain the smoke, additional smoke warheads pierce the ground.

Gunfire, artillery, screams from friend and foe, the sound of metal stretching.

The stench of flame and gunpowder, blood and mud—thick, suffocating. Io glanced back for a moment.

Significantly reduced. About a quarter left.

Perhaps it should be said the other way. Three quarters still remain.

Even the Salmatia Heavy Cavalry are losing units. Expected. They bore the brunt of enemy attacks more than anyone else.

Inhaling deeply.

—Tomas, take it!

The jump unit screeched, expelling compressed air in a high-pitched wail.