Not interested in dying

Surprise attacks remain the best. Frontal assaults are unavoidable only when trapped in an untenable situation.

The battle reaches its peak—intensity escalates, and friendly casualties mount at a rate unmatched by any prior engagement.

Engaging head-on with honesty gets you nowhere. The difference in capability is stark. The weapons are different.

We bleed nothing, force the enemy to bleed. Simple. Supreme. Easy to say, but options are limited.

That is the ambush. Pin the enemy down unilaterally, withdraw before they can mount a counter, leaving no afterimage.

Ambush is the optimal tactic. Using the optimal tactic, the Sinclair Select Hunter Unit conducts its fourth assault.

Io licks their lips, Charger beside them, waiting for the entry point to the designated target.

Three count—two—one—flag out!

The plasma grenade thrown by Charger detonates behind Weedlan’s deployed shield, unleashing a lethal cascade of lightning and shockwave.

Io deploys the Defender and immediately charges in. Hartie, gripping a handgun, seizes Io’s right shoulder and follows close behind, using Io as cover.

—Wendigo, support Alpha!

A secondary unit breaches from the right, the direction Io’s assault originated.

Weedlan’s forces, lacking coordinated defense, are cut down in seconds by crossfire.

The smell of smoke is thick. Mud and dust explode into the air. Io strains their ears even amidst the enemy’s screams.

—All clear!

—Wendigo and their team planted explosives. That makes four. …Considering the operation timeline, pushing further now risks encirclement.

Charger peeled the terminal from Weedran’s shattered skull and connected it to his own device, doing something.

Io wrinkled his nose while maintaining perimeter surveillance.

Enemy presence approaching. Evacuation route?

Retrace our steps.

They’ll follow the underground passage.

Preparations for封锁 are complete. Let them come. We’ll bury them alive.

A foolish question. This man never cuts corners.

—Wendigo to all units: Detonation initiated. Be alert.

An enemy anti-air weapon detonated at a distance.

Too powerful to just disable.

—Who the hell prepared these tools?

The mixture ratios are all wrong, and the quality is unstable.

—Wendigo, this isn’t the time. Target achieved. Withdraw.

—Charger, let me complain a little. We’re the ones who’ll die if we’re handed defective gear.

I'll hear it later. Enemy incoming.

Wendigo's team converges after the destruction. A distant lizard's roar echoes.

Agent Io, peripheral data flow is intensifying.

Enemy fast unit. Contact in thirty seconds.

Charger, Cyphs unit approaching! Thirty seconds!

The Syndicate Assault Team moves immediately.

A box, about shoulder-high, is set down by several personnel. The black-painted casing opens—out flies an attack drone shaped like a manta ray, its body sheathed in pale blue armor.

The drone enters target acquisition mode, beginning surveillance of the surrounding area.

Will slow them down. Pull back.

Io watched Sinclair’s entire form disengage from the attack vector and began running from the rear.

Hartie ran alongside, having waited with unnecessary punctuality. The high-pitched drive sound of Cyphs rolling dash echoed from behind.

Io shouted while running.

— Don’t let them catch up!

— You first!

— …Artillery!

Ground ruptured just beside them. Ten meters at most.

A detonation. Vibration. Enough to unbalance Hartie.

Artillery fire. Too close for Weedran’s own forces—enemy must be furious.

Behind, attack drones activated automatic combat. Delaying the pursuing enemy unit.

But four Cyphs had looped around ahead. Charger, apparently, tore the barricade plating from Weedran’s setup with brute force and charged forward.

— Stop, Charger!

Charger intercepting Cyphs’ machine gun rounds.

Sinclair disperses. Wendigo fires his grenade launcher at maximum capacity.

Cyphs is blown backward by the explosion. Two units. Still operational.

Io halts mid-sprint and reaches for SOD7.

"Goblet!"

'Victory to you.'

The familiar sensation. The world thickens, slows, stretches.

Cyphs’ weaknesses are known. Io immediately shoots through the waist-level central units of both units.

"Charger, you're alive?!"

Lifting Charger, shattered by machine gun fire through armor plating. The man remains unshaken despite near death.

Io supports him by the shoulder, dragging him forward.

"Any casualties?"

"Just you, idiot! Don’t do it again!"

Wendigo, supporting Charger from Io’s opposite side, glares back over his shoulder.

Running while fending off enemy pursuit, they reach the hidden passage of the Oxanun underground transit network.

A small hatch. Camouflaged with soil and artificial turf. Charger immediately issues orders. Team members leap into the hatch in prearranged sequence.

"Circular defense!"

Sinclair team members, heavier equipped than the rest, connect tools and set them into the ground.

A small Defender. Still too large to be considered personal carry equipment, but undeniably a step forward in miniaturization.

Smaller than the Reaper units used in mountain trench warfare.

"Come on, more of you!"

Io is no less formidable here. That is why she is here—to kill the lizard.

Cyphs rapid units pose no problem. With SOD7 special rounds capable of piercing through twelve millimeters of Defender armor, the countless swarm of Cyphs launching a fierce assault now is nothing more than scrap metal.

By the time Sinclair’s evacuation concludes, the lizard’s weapons are reduced to junk.

Charger is shouting.

—Io, come on!

—Go ahead!

Charger hesitates not. Dives straight into the hatch.

—Artillery incoming. Evacuate immediately.

Hartie, as if waiting for it, moves in. Io follows last.

A dive like a swimmer into the hatch. Immediately afterward, searing heat hits the back.

Lying flat on the ground, gasping, struggling to steady breath.

Just in time.

"Containment prep! Evacuate the engineering unit! Are the feet ready?!"

The Charger's shout sets the waiting engineering force into frantic motion.

A supply freight train, designed for underground transit, is already prepped.

"Sinclair, move faster. The enemy's concentrating forces on our side."

"What?"

"What? I'm not surprised. We've got the Skull Emblem unit and Diamond Frame together. More than enough to lure them in."

"Then it's the perfect opportunity."

The engineering squad leader smirks, salutes. As Ioh and the others board the train—barely more than a guardrail for protection—it lurches forward.

Musty air. Ioh doesn't mind.

The train races through pitch-black tunnels, lightless and silent.

"Change of plan!"

What specifics?!

Launch a second assault through the main stream from the secret passage thirty kilometers south.

Io, one more task for you!

The train moves. Behind the Charger's bold tactical maneuver, someone's sacrifice must be at work.

No way a series of attacks would succeed without precise enemy positioning data. How did they acquire it.

I don’t doubt you—but how can you read the enemy’s movements this clearly?!

Screech—screech—the wheels scream metal. The train races at the edge of its limit, sparks flaring from its undercarriage.

Shouting to be heard over the deafening roar.

"Ultra-high-altitude stealth recon craft!"

You should have produced that sooner if it existed!

Shot down ten minutes after sending its final transmission—our last ace in the hole!

Even excellent weapons, advanced technology, and meticulously planned tactics can be nullified by simple means!

...That's the lowest of the low!

They're our only capable scout team left—responded to the call despite heavy casualties!

After this, it's not difficult! Just think like a lizard!

Like a lizard?!

Hartie snorted, dismissing it as a joke. No one could understand the mind of a cruel, savage reptile.

Io agreed with Hartie, more or less, but at least trusted the Charger's abilities.

Then, Charger—what are they feeling right now?!

F, we're exactly the same as them!

So full of drive, huh? Io muttered, as the train accelerated past him.

Hey, we're going off-track!

Just watch!

The train lurched violently around a sharp curve. For a moment, there was even a sensation of weightlessness.

Hartie flinched and shouted frantically, but the soldier—Wendigo, whose armor bore the white giant's paint—did not even glance his way.

(An all-rounder, huh.)

Wendigo’s eyes fixed on the control interface, teeth clenched into the grip.

They’d shared operations before, but never spoken.

He excelled in assault, reconnaissance, infiltration, sabotage, advanced mechanics, programming, chemistry.

Now he pilots trains too. Must be somewhere, people like this.

Would be useful if he survived longer...

Io shook his head.

Charger, how are Boomer and Reaper holding up?!

Charger fell silent for a moment, then turned toward Io. Behind the helmet, the visor—was it even looking at him?

Violent vibration. Inertia. Amidst the gale and sparks, the Charger finally responds.

—Reaper was evacuated through a separate exit!

They should be waiting on the sea for our reinforcement unit by now—

Boomer?!

He reportedly broke free by punching the medics trying to carry him on a capsule bed—

Currently engaged in assault operation against the Weedran descent unit!

—Ah... huh? What's that...

Well, I'm glad the Boomer's looking healthy.

Heard the names from the two, apparently.

I'm fine—won't leak anything!

That’s not what I’m trying to say!

So what? Io slumps back on the train seat, shoulders hunched.

Proof of trust! Don't betray them, Io!

We do not betray our comrades.

Unusually sentimental words from the Charger.

Then north to south. Unsatiated, east to west.

Io and Hartie, Sinclair Assault, launched consecutive ambushes, sudden assaults.

——

Delaying combat continued. Endless hell.

We broke their initial advance. Disrupted their rear. Eliminated enemy infiltration units. All surrounded units were rescued in turn.

Still, it did not lead to an offensive. The Karaaf Front Army, having sent nearly all its forces to Audar, could only defend.

Weedran’s attack was relentless, yet never hurried. The lizard legion advanced methodically, inching closer to Oxanun.

But our progress is just as predetermined.

—Respect to your efforts. Everything proceeds as planned.

A dry, rasping voice echoes—Yuaris. He had not lied.

Casualties so high they make one want to look away. Losses so severe they make one want to look away.

All anticipated. For the sake of letting the ship escape.

‘The Diamond Frame, famed by the army group, has just dealt a crushing blow to the enemy vanguard and now returns to resupply with ease.

You have repeatedly fallen back, as per the operation plan—but at every point where “we will not allow passage,” you have held firm.

Undeniable. All who stand here, steadfast, are the pride of the Sitalskia Coalition.’

Io leans against a wall at a supply depot built by allies. His armor is damaged beyond repair—his need for a replacement is acute.

Next to him, Hartie sits, spent—ammo and explosives fully expended. He, too, refuses to yield, demanding the tools and grenades reserved exclusively for special units.

—So, that’s the story?

Io’s sarcasm draws a scowl from Hartie.

—Yeah, I’ll stop them anywhere.

—If supplies were secure.

He pulls a tool from the utility pouch on his armor and tosses it aside.

A power output device. Completely destroyed. No repair path.

—The lizards are cunning. They haven’t been serious until now.

—All defense points are screaming. The enemy is flooding in with relentless force, and their withdrawal tactics are precise.

—Without you, this defense would’ve collapsed long ago. —This supply base would’ve fallen in minutes.

—Being relied on feels good. —But even that has its limits.

—Heard any updates on the evacuation?

—No.

—About thirty percent remaining. But complications have arisen.

A long-range artillery unit was confirmed, likely bypassing the coastal zone.

It will be within range of the evacuation fleet shortly.

"Shall we take it out next?"

"No. No such order has come through. Sinclair’s commander seems to have a plan.

Leave it to him."

"He’s no slouch."

Io muttered, scanning the chaotic movement of supply officers and their subordinates, until he locked eyes with a man clearly heading their way.

"Looks like rest period’s over."

The man slammed the crates he’d dragged down in front of Io’s group.

"Sorry for the wait. Got what you asked for. …As much as possible."

Hartie opened the crate, nodded with satisfaction.

"True. Energy grenades, counter-bugs, even spare batteries for the Defender.

Where did you get these from?"

Stole it from the salvage depot. Figured you’d make better use of it than I would.

Relax. No one’s gonna care at this point.

Would love to buy you a round.

If I make it back alive, I’ll ask you to do it.

Laughed with a smirk. Didn’t seem to be thinking about such things.

Io and Hartie attacked the supply crate like stray dogs tearing through a dumpster.

Ammunition, healing agents, stimulants, specialized tools, comms boosters, micro-drones—everything.

Replenished worn-out gear. Satisfied with the weight now pressing down on their bodies, they realized the man who’d delivered the crate had already left for his next mission.

The speech by Youaris had ended without notice.

Chills. …Everyone’s gonna collapse in the end, one way or another.

Yeah.

Hartie presses a drug delivery tool against the neck.

He exhales, cold from the stimulant coursing through his veins.

The ones I like, the ones I hate, the ones I saved, the ones who saved me—him just now, too. Naturally, us too, of course.

Just so you know

Io finished loading the magazine into Raven and spoke in a voice utterly unchanged from usual.

I don’t intend to die.

The brats are let go. Obey the order. Watch the ship’s evacuation. After that… well, that’s it.

—Just have to shake these lizards somehow.

Hartie could only manage a dry smile in response to Ioh's words.

—Yeah, maybe you could do it that way. I hope you can.

You tired already? It's only been four hours since combat began.

I can't become as tough as you.

Io taps Hartie’s shoulder and begins walking.

A temporary forward command post lay several dozen meters away—senior officers still locked in grim concentration, gathering and analyzing data.

The Blue Goblet leans close.

Establish egress routes as contingency planning post-operation, update situational status in real time

(…huh? Seems they’re planning to keep me alive after all.)

...I cannot comprehend the intent behind your statement. Why would you say something like that?

Blue Goblet thinks the current state of yours was not merely a joke or irony

Goblet was expressionless, unfeeling as ever, yet her voice carried a subtle edge of reproach.

Emotion, huh. Iō grunts at the unfamiliar sensation. Even he can't explain why he chose that phrasing.

Hartie isn't the only one who's worn out.

—(Sorry, that was a poor joke)

Is this a joke? If it is, then I accept it.

(—My goddess always demands the impossible with perfect calm. It's tempting to make her cry.)

Our kind are those who relish the extreme of impossibility, even in dire straits.

“Our kind,” huh. Hah.

Agent Io laughed without meaning to. Goblet’s wordplay had improved remarkably lately.

Hartie flicked a glance toward the sudden laugh, then immediately looked ahead again. No use reacting to every outlandish outburst from a crazed soldier. Stamina wouldn’t hold.

Agent Io. Blue Goblet will not kill you.

Blue Goblet cannot tolerate your loss in multiple ways.

(—Please stop with the “efficient management” nonsense.)

…………………………Blue Goblet can significantly reduce your stress.

I promise to allocate substantial resources to improve your performance.?

(You’ve gotten bolder. You didn’t used to speak so bluntly.)

Thick skin, too.

Not "I promise, but?" That’s not like a navigation AI. After such an unusual pause, offering a conciliatory move.

Still, entertaining. I considered how to reject this blue goddess’s offer, but she changed the subject first.

Agent Io, we’ve intercepted critical operational data from a highly classified communication by Youalis Barley.

(That classified communication of his? What’s the content?)

It appears part of Youalis Barley’s operational plan has failed.

They’re requesting you to execute a recovery mission.

Io stopped, looked at Hartie.

Hartie, seems we’ve been selected.

Too late now. Among the soldiers currently in Oxanun, who’d refuse your strength?

…And who’s the guest paying the contract fee?

Io’s Little Lady was summoned moments later.