Aggressive Defense

Agent Io surges through the enemy Tomas's defensive unit, clinging to its steel back and roaring.

—Seized…!

—Allocating a portion of combat support auxiliary brain resources to seize enemy Tomas.

—Selected team members, take cover! Let loose!

Tomas flails wildly, trying to dislodge Io.

Huge. A rodeo machine. Io rides the wild beast, scanning the battlefield.

—Lock acquired. Agent Io, reconstructing nanomachine control flow.

Maximum operational efficiency updated. You become stronger. Ever more. Greater than anyone.

Tomas bends its legs, curling into a compact stance.

The default standby posture. All states reset by Goblet, rebooting under its control.

—Close-quarters defense system rebooting.

—Fire!

Tomas spreads his legs wide, the high-pitched whine of joint motors driving the motion.

The large-caliber machine gun, positioned to cover the giant's blind spot, activates.

The streamlined segmented tip activates massive caterpillar treads—180-degree rapid rotation.

Lead rain erupts in chaotic bursts, cleaving through the Weedran unit advancing nearby.

Io! Fighting while seizing enemy ordnance—wasn’t that just a rumor after all!

First time showing this to you, Hartie!

Two units—Salmatia and one other—have destroyed the Tomas!

Share the attack target with Little Lady— we'll cover you!

—Fine, wait a moment!

Defender at maximum output. A wall of blue light deployed across the front section, shielding Io and the allied forces.

Enemy force concentration confirmed. Agent Io, you are designated a primary target.

Enemy special weapon, Shower Bug, confirmed.

Enemy special weapon, Firefly Swarm, confirmed.

High-energy reaction detected in Fireflies. Amplification mechanism identified.

Likely self-destructive, like the Shower Bug.

Interesting. Io’s lips curl upward. Canines exposed, ferocity laid bare.

Nasal bridge distorts. Teeth grind—crack, crack, crack.

Io locks onto the next target.

"Charge!"

Plunging straight into the nearest Tomas while maintaining Defender deployment.

Crushing the lizard-like infantry accompanying the Tomas, using momentum to deliver a full-body impact.

Armor peels back with a roar. Enemy Tomas collapses, forelimbs severed.

"Salmatia, can you cover my flank?!"

"Always ready—what’s the plan?!"

Cockroach and fly! Need close-range plasma lance defense again!

Io controls the leg, swinging it up and slamming Tomas down.

Crushing the camera eye and sensors just blown off, immediately disengaging.

Fireflies, a haze of them, closing in. A number so vast it’s laughable—deployed solely to kill Io.

‘Adjusting posture for enemy fire response.’

Tomas spins in place, then shifts into reverse motion.

Defender only deploys from the front. Turning your back means danger.

Checking comms with Little Lady, halting abruptly.

Salmatia Leader, Oliver, activates jump unit and leaps in.

‘…Feels like a movie.’

‘Could be a game.’

Anything goes if we can hit them hard!

Oliver violently swaps the plasma lance’s energy pack.

Selected team units deploy around the perimeter, initiating counterattacks against the enemy.

Enemy fire is, of course, relentless. One, then another, blown apart—team numbers dwindle.

Io manipulates the terminal, halts mid-action. No data shared. Nothing.

Tomas deployed at random, all of them—alongside the accompanying infantry at their feet.

All eliminated.

Hartie, go at random!

Get behind my Tomas!

Enemy friendly tank unit has rammed the enemy’s left flank! This is our chance!

Send a few Salmatia units over there! Can’t handle Firefly’s suicide runs alone!

Is the Onyx squad still active?!

...Onyx is wiped out. Fought bravely. Died bravely.

Io gritted his teeth again.

The Onyx squad leader had said it. "Don’t let us die in vain."

That’s right. Not in vain.

"…For the comrades who believed in us!"

"For the comrades!"

Responses echoed back in rapid succession to Io’s cry.

Crazy. All of them utterly reckless.

A gang of toughs. Not a myth. They really were madmen.

"Advance suppression! Use me as cover!

Eliminate the Tomos defensive unit before enemy reserves emerge!"

A chorus of affirmations rose in response.

"Say it, Io! I’m not giving retreat orders until the Tomos unit is wiped out!"

"Just shut down the Firefly already!"

"Salmatia heavy cavalry! Charge!

Kill the lizard—or die yourself!"

"Victory or death!"

Io’s captured Tomas begins a forced advance.

The elite hunters follow, jetting horizontally with their jump units.

――

Tomas units on the forward defense. Io’s team destroys them completely, though at great cost.

Then the Oxanun defense array activates.

Artillery fire, unrelenting and fired from extreme range, holds the enemy in place with precision.

The elite hunters retreat, barely maintaining order.

Back at the friendly defensive position, few stood upright.

……Supply me! Evacuate the critical casualties!

Hartie slams his helmet’s face guard open and roars.

Sweat clumps fall in droplets. He collapses to the ground, discarding the damaged Raven he’d been carrying during combat.

Oliver, leader of the Salmatia, collapses beside him.

His assault armor has been blown apart, reduced to an iron coffin.

Subordinates activate the armor’s emergency release system and drag Oliver from the coffin.

—Bring me a spare suit.

Lucky bastard. Still able to kill those lizards.

Io forces Tomas into a prone position. The sight of him returning this far is miraculous.

The armor has taken too many effective hits—finding an undamaged section is nearly impossible. The right rear leg is bent at the joint, and attitude control is unstable.

—Mobility system, damage threshold exceeded. Internal units, burned out. Tomas, critically damaged.

Blue Goblet reports. She sways slightly, smiling.

Satisfied with the results.

Io unclips the helmet and lets it roll. A large hole mars the face guard.

Four Fireflies, having passed through the plasma lance, detonated at close range.

Shrapnel pierced through the guard and impaled Io’s cheek.

—k…kuk…

Forcing a small iron fragment out. Blood gushes immediately.

—Initiating recovery protocol.

Within seconds, bleeding begins to slow. At this rate, the wound will be sealed by tissue in under three minutes.

—About a third of the way.

That was all she had survived. Everyone else stared blankly, as if unaware why they were still alive.

Carrier units for heavy casualties line up. Bodies are shoved into them at random.

One of them stared fixedly at Ioh. More than half his face was ruined—burnt, shattered by debris—but he made no sound, his gaze locked on Ioh.

Just as the carrier unit began to move, he managed, slowly, to raise a salute.

Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. His saluting hand trembled uncontrollably.

His eyes believed in Ioh. Then, without a word, he was carried away.

Ioh dismounted from Tomas and returned the salute to the wounded.

—For our comrades.

Yes, Ioh. For the human species.

A senior officer pushed through the line of tech officers.

Selection team—well done! Enemy vanguard is in disarray, chaos, utter collapse—by any measure, miraculous, overwhelming victory!

Reorganize the defense units! Those able to move—volunteer!

The lieutenant finished speaking and stepped into command at the front lines.

He was reorganizing the fractured frontline. His voice was harsh, his orders blunt, utterly pragmatic.

Exactly the kind of commander this chaotic situation required. The surviving soldiers lashed their exhausted bodies into motion, preparing for the next assault.

Hartie, moving between communications nodes using her connections, approached Io.

“Io, how’s the wound?”

“Minor. No impairment in combat.”

“Only you’d think that. Looks severe.”

“Hartie, even if that were true… I’m not retreating.”

Hartie nodded, as if she already knew.

“Split north and south. Multiple key positions under assault by the Weedran airborne force.”

They’ve dragged out whatever airborne transports they have left—damage is severe. We’ll need reinforcements.”

“What were the anti-air units doing? Sleeping?”

“Seems the enemy special forces have infiltrated them. Some of the anti-air crews are silent.”

“What’s headquarters saying? That bastard Youaris?”

“No new orders. But we can propose a new operational plan—friendly support.”

A senior officer cut in mid-conversation.

“Danger here is identical. The Weedran will reorganize and launch an assault at any moment.

This position is the most convenient for deploying forces toward Oxanun.

Sergeant Io, and the selected scouts—remain here and assist in the defense.”

Condor drones through the air, rotors whirring unevenly. Fire support for the front lines.

Yuaris had preserved her forces with meticulous care. The abundant air support was the result of that effort.

This position still holds.

She was about to consider the situation and propose a course of action when—

from one of the Condor drones overhead, figures descended.

Skull burned in flames. Black serpents coiling beneath. The Sinclair emblem.

At their lead stood the Charger. He appeared, armor marred by the scars of battle.

“Charger. Still alive.”

“Io. I need your help. You understand the situation?”

The Charger spoke as if he’d been listening to their entire conversation.

“Why would this position be untouched while the north and south are under assault?”

“Don’t know. Lizard tactics are beyond me.”

“You’re here, Io. That’s why. The enemy fears you.”

"Such a harmless bunch, are they? Weedran?"

The officer murmured, "Ah, I see." Hartie was nodding too.

"I'm probably on their wanted list. They'd be happy to come after me."

"Personally... as a soldier, fine. But as a commander? I wouldn't provoke the Reaper."

"Sinclair agrees, broadly."

What's with that reaction.

"...So, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Use part of the Oxanun underground transport line for a surprise attack.

Target: the anti-aircraft battery. If our Condor can move freely, the enemy will hesitate to strike. We gain time."

Hartie frowned.

"After the last raid on Oxanun, the underground network was sealed off—only minimal routes left open."

A hidden route exists—originally prepared for VIP extraction.

The surface exit is disguised. Ideal for a small force to launch a surprise attack.

…exactly the kind of opportunity we are.

Charger stared at Io with fierce resolve. No doubt in his mind that Io would not refuse.

Hartie shook his head.

"Being popular’s a burden, isn’t it, Sergeant Io."

Io looked into the void. There, Blue Goblet smiled.

(What do you think, Goblet?)

"Calculation complete. Blue Goblet concludes these must be handled in sequence.

Charger’s operational plan ranks highest in priority.

Inflict heavy damage on the enemy to draw attention, then eliminate the Weedrun infiltration unit.

The situation should tilt in favor of the human species."

(I’ll trust you.)

"...Honor, Agent Io."

It is one of Blue Goblet’s pleasures to be relied upon, to be sought after.

Cut the act. You’re running calculations behind my back, aren’t you. Even something designed to implicate me.

Still, that’s part of your charm. Io let out a low, masculine chuckle.

“Charger, let’s take them out in order.

First, follow your plan and hit the enemy. Then, reclaim Oxanun and hit them again.

Get our forces fully mobilized, then hit them once more.

What do you think?”

“Solid idea. I’d love to show it to Oxanun’s mole-squad. Even better—back when we had the chance.”

Io turned his gaze to Hartie. Hartie nodded again, satisfied.

“Io, of course I’m coming with you.”

He locked eyes with the Charger. After a long stare, the Charger studied Hartie briefly, then tilted his head toward Io.

Io said it casually, as if it meant nothing.

A capable soldier. It's almost surprising he's not Sinclair.

Then I suppose if you say so, there's no reason to worry.

Hartie, you said. Unit affiliation?

Special Operations Unit under direct command, Melanio Force. Currently assigned to the Oxanun Defense Unit as selected sharpshooters.

What mission did you have in your original unit?

Did everything—frontline combat, escort, rescue, reconnaissance, sabotage. In the last engagement, teamed up with Io to restore the Oxanun communications network.

I’m aware of that miraculous tactical outcome.

Good then, come on, Hartie—

The matter was settled. Each unit immediately began preparations.

Io approached Oliver, who was issuing rapid-fire orders to his subordinates.

Younger than the image I’d formed from her voice and speech patterns.

Build was impossible to judge—obscured by the bulk of that armored frame—but thinner than expected. Body composition closely mirrored Io’s.

“Salmatia, we’re moving to the next operation.”

“Right. We’ll hold position here.”

“Enemy vanguard’s moving again—unbelievably reckless. They’ve figured out our artillery’s nearly depleted.”

Oliver extended a hand.

I gripped it hard—scarred, trembling.

“Salmatia… Oliver. Good to fight alongside you.”

“Don’t talk like it’s our last stand. …But I feel the same, brother.”

Fist to fist. Shoulder lock. Pull apart. Turned away. No look back.

Oliver shouted.

“He’s stepping into combat!

All selected hunters—salute the Diamond Frame!”

The battered soldiers rise, spine straightening.

Io walks away, back turned to their salute.

Updates scheduled for tomorrow and the day after! Let's push forward!