Rescue Mission

Before Sergeant Io could respond to the call, Condor began its hover above.

A familiar voice from the external speakers.

— Took my time, Sergeant Io! Your Flamenco 03 is here!

Sent directly from command headquarters to retrieve you. This unit is always combat-ready!

Io and Hartie exchanged a glance, then activated their jump units at maximum output.

They launched vertically, securing themselves onto Condor’s door-side grip.

Flamenco 03 laughed.

— Great to see you again. But Sergeant, boarding via jump unit is prohibited!

There’s a guy out there who got minced by the rotors.

— You didn’t say anything back then, 03.

— Haha, well, I never thought you’d turn out to be *that* kind of man.

— Here we go! Hold on tight!

Condor leans forward. Body swinging. Grips tighten. Pushes against the strain.

The landscape blurs past—rubble, flames, smoke. The vanguard of Weedran was broken long ago, but the enemy has regrouped and resumed assault. A significant number have already penetrated Oxanun.

(What happened to Boomer? He should have been operating on severe injuries.)

Each unit fights desperately. Attacks and defenses trigger swarming, scattering like fish—always maintaining optimal, efficient force against the enemy.

Though called a mole, the command center of Youalis—no one can dispute its role in raising Oxanun’s defenses to this level.

After all, units that joined the defense at battle’s start are now withdrawing one by one, evacuating.

A genius at force projection. Even more so within his own territory, right at his doorstep.

Io stared at the crumbling city as he responded to the transmission. The caller, naturally, was Yuris Barley.

— You're late.

— Timing’s off.

Yuris didn’t waste time with feigned regret. Io showed no sign of apology.

— Corporal, you’re on Condor. Proceed directly to the designated point.

— Outer perimeter of Oxanun. First Water Purification Facility.

Goblet overlaid a map onto Io’s vision.

Enemy positions were marked in deep crimson.

— First Water Purification Facility and adjacent outposts are under enemy control.

The selected point glowed red, faint but present. A facility of negligible value, even Weedran admitted as much. Still, it remained within enemy lines.

Io did not so much as twitch. Energy was too precious. Even forming a frown felt like a wasted effort.

—What use is a captured infrastructure facility?

—A critical operation is currently underway under defense protocols. But the unit executing it has lost contact at the command facility. You are to proceed to the site immediately and assume command if necessary.

The voice was rigid. As expected—Yuaris always spoke with a tight, pinched tone.

There was no room for hopeful speculation. The man clearly did not believe the mission team was still alive.

—Even if it's a critical operation, could you be a little more specific?

—This is a classified operation known only to select members of my staff. I cannot disclose details.

Two other special operatives have already arrived at the site. You are to protect them.

—...Fine. Send me the lost team's coordinates.

Don’t hold back on any hazards—tell me upfront.

The data Io requested arrives without delay. Map data for the water purification facility and the last known checkpoint before the assault unit went silent.

Also included: the profiles of the two operatives ahead of Io. But the close-ups show only face masks and helmets—no discernible features—and the name field reads only “Disclosure Restricted.”

Only the mission ID is clear. Gerello One and Gerello Two.

“Just that? At least I won’t waste time on introductions.”

A sarcasm that, under the circumstances, is forgivable.

‘I will provide the tracking signal for the lost unit. The target point is currently under interference from special weapons deployed by our forces, disrupting all communications. But within a certain range, the signal can be acquired.’

‘What’s the detection range?’

‘Wait a moment… ah… ah, right. Understood.’

According to the engineer, approximately eighty to one hundred meters in diameter.

"Not overly broad."

It seems the VIPs are broadcasting a special signal in anticipation of unforeseen circumstances. Prudent, indeed.

But whether one can successfully intercept that signal remains questionable.

Still, it's fine.

Ahead, Goblet stands. She smiles deeply, quietly. Slight confidence, unmistakable.

The target emitting a unique signal. Whether alive or dead, it's a simple matter for this blue goddess.

"Problem resolved. Blue Goblet can track the target with greater range and higher precision.

...Predicting Flamenco Zero Three's route. Likely to force a breakthrough through the combat zone."

A gentle curve etches across Goblet's map. The stylized Condor icon moves along that path.

The Condor looks rather cute, but the one taking flight is heading straight for the center of the witch’s cauldron.

—Colonel, what’s the route? Flamenco Zero Three is flying through a place that looks like a joke.

We’re going to punch straight through the chaos of friend and foe if we keep this up.

‘Unacceptable. But you’ll follow that path, pilot.’

—Sergeant, leave Flamenco Zero Three to me.

We call her the “Invincible Third” among the team.

—About eighty percent of that’s thanks to you, Sergeant.

Zero Three laughs brightly. Doesn’t seem to grasp the danger. Appears utterly reckless.

But Io knows full well the skill and sheer audacity of this young pilot.

Goblet updated the map.

‘Integrating data. Given confirmed weapons of the Weedrun Special Unit and air-defense parameters, this route qualifies as relatively safe.’

Io nodded twice.

Mission acknowledged. But this is a descent into enemy territory. Reinforcements?

……You are the reinforcements.

Most unsatisfactory response.

The situation demands urgency. The defensive capabilities of the Oxanun garrison are nearing exhaustion. Should this operation fail, escaping the ship will no longer be possible.

…Is one tactical maneuver really that critical?

And the evacuation progress is already over seventy percent.

The personnel who completed the remaining thirty percent are the ones currently engaged.

It won't work as before. Yuaris’s statement was merciless.

Initiating. I’ll join the Gerello team and make your so-called operation succeed.

Io stared at Yuaris’s scowl.

——

The forced breach was smoother than expected. The multi-situation launchers stationed in the Condor’s weapon bay had to be emptied into the community center, the sports park, and the memorial hall until they were riddled with holes.

The friendly forces deployed in the urban zone were unusually cooperative, far more so than Sergeant Io found suspicious. Thanks to their coordination, Flamingo 03 was breaking through the frontline unscathed.

—Sergeant Io, I’d like to say I’ve repaid the favor. But really, it was us who were saved.

—Diamond Frame, saluting. Please. I’m begging you. Save the evacuation fleet…

In the receding landscape, soldiers on the rooftop of a massive shopping mall are saluting.

Io returns the salute and urges the pilot.

—Don’t rush, but move fast!

—Distance to target: six thousand. No enemy contact in vicinity!

Don’t let your guard down, 03!

Hartie, strapped with a safety belt for fall prevention, stands rigidly at the opposite side of the door, keeping Raven locked in position.

A sharp wind-whistle. He, monitoring from afar, was the first to notice. He shouts.

Damn it, something’s wrong!

On the Condor’s flight path. A large missile streaks in and pierces a section of Oxanun’s main road.

Explosion. Shrapnel and dust surge forward, slamming into Io.

Staring at the thick black smoke rising into the sky, Hartie manipulates his terminal.

What’s the status of anti-air defenses?!

The missile wasn’t the only one. From multiple locations across Oxanun, Weedran’s maximum firepower begins descending.

Yuaris’s voice echoes through omnidirectional comms.

All units, assess the situation! Frontline commander, advance the withdrawal schedule—evacuate in sequence!

The assigned higher commander is to maintain the minimum front line and support the withdrawal of friendly forces!

The key defensive position—regretfully, I order you to hold it at all costs!

Flamenco 03 seemed, for once, to falter.

You're kidding.

Friend forces buckling under iron rain. One missile among the downpour detonates at an altitude of 120, unleashing a blinding flash.

From a distance, it resembled a ring. A cream-colored ring of light emitted powerful electromagnetic waves, disabling all Condors within a one-kilometer radius.

An unverified weapon, to date.

Theoretical origins and activation mechanisms remain unclear, but aircraft in the blast vicinity have ceased functioning.

……so, worst case scenario, then.

Condors falling one after another, as if severed by a thread. A single strike—dozens of elite aircraft, supporting friendly forces, shot down.

Flamenco 03 screamed.

—That’s impossible… 04! 04! This is 03! …Hey 07!

Is anyone out there?! 03 is still airborne! Heading to rescue!

Is there no one?!! Anyone at all—answer me!!

Various communications overlap. Mostly screams and shouts. No response from 03.

—Faaarrrk!

03 slammed the fire-control monitor with a curse.

Io gazed far off, eyes fixed on the sky beyond.

—(Goblet, what about the enemy’s second wave?)

—Unable to confirm. Also, most attacks struck outside Oxanun’s perimeter. No direct hits on central core.

—Enemy likely intends to repurpose Oxanun’s infrastructure after combat.

(Thinking: Better leave some intact for later use?)

You damn well dare.

Hartie’s high-intensity comms crackled again.

—Air wing, retreat all units! Prohibit use of anything but drones!

But Flamenco Team 03, continue your original mission!

“Hartie, you’re out of your mind.”

Hartie’s voice carried contempt.

Yet the battered 03 seemed to rally instead.

—...We’ll both fly. Be careful.

“You sure? With friendly forces retreating, your chance of returning after penetration is negligible.”

Flamenco 03 arced wide, accelerating.

Through shattered outer rings of Oxanun, low-altitude flight cutting through flame and smoke.

—Everyone else is dead. So I stay.

Besides, you’ll need me, won’t you?

—...I appreciate it.

——

Purification management facility—yet no trace of water remained.

Most of the critical components lay underground. Above ground, only power supply units and countless tanks emerged, along with a single building for external reception.

Flamenco 03 lands in a parking area enclosed by barbed-wire mesh. Weedran attacks have intensified since earlier, and enemy and friendly shells and missiles still streak overhead.

‘Communication failure detected in underground facility. Status unknown.

Agent Io—be mindful of Snake Eye’s effective range.’

Given that Yurius’s elite unit has gone silent, an enemy must have destroyed them.

No need to be told. Io and Hartie have maintained focus since the operation began.

Simultaneously, Condor departs. A hand waves toward 03.

‘Let’s go, Hartie.’

Watch it, Sergeant. Something’s off.

……Flamenco Zero Three, you’re clear. I respect you. Get out when the timing’s right.

‘Zero Three copy.’

The facility had a large cargo access tunnel leading directly underground, with a maintenance personnel elevator adjacent.

Hartie manipulates the elevator’s control interface.

Locked. Odd. The Gereiro team should be ready to receive us.

Regardless, run the unlock protocol.

There’s faint combat residue on the surface. The Gereiros might be down.

Bad guess. …Unlock sequence initiated.

The thick doors slide open, and Io’s team slides inside.

Not even close to safe. No more than waist-high railings. Surrounded on all sides by cables, gears, and structural supports.

Forty meters down, the space opens into a vast chamber. At first glance, it resembles a dam complex.

The immense reservoir space explains it. Two filtration units are mounted like bridges across the reservoir, and the water flow leads to a cliff. Beyond that, the aqueduct system circulates around Oxanun.

The waterfall generates a roar and a mist.

Wall-mounted lights, neatly aligned, illuminate the facility. Not entirely metal—some sections expose soil, covered in moss.

The atmosphere resembles an underground lake.

“Sergeant Io, that one.”

A paved path leads from the elevator’s descent point into the interior of the subterranean facility.

Scattered among the debris were several Cyphs. The path bore signs of frequent explosive use, pockmarked in places.

"Communication with command severed. Attempting contact with the Gellero team."

Impatience gnawed at them as the elevator reached the ground. They vaulted over the handrail.

Io led, scanning the surroundings. Hartie followed, protected by Io, calling out to the Gellero team.

"Gellero team, still alive?

This is Hartie, squad of the Oxanun Elite Hunter Unit, Io team.

We’ve just breached the underground section of the first water purification facility.

Repeating: this is the Elite Hunter Unit, Io team."

As they called out, they reached the facility’s emergency exit.

The lock was shattered. As if blasted apart by shotgun fire.

"Gerero, respond. We’re entering the facility now."

……Io team?"

"…………? You’re Gerero…… aren’t you?"

Hartie’s voice cracked. The voice on the comms was unnaturally high—childlike.

Io frowned beside him. The voice was familiar.

"Tell me you’re not Pax."

"Y-yes, Sergeant. Paxton."

Damn it. Shut up. Io’s curse drowned in the sound of splashing water.