Chapter 179

[ENEMY INTRUSION! ENEMY INTRUSION!]

There was absolutely no technical reason to scream out loud to trigger an alarm through BISHOP, but Teiro did it anyway. Watching countless WIND units stabbing their limbs into the walls of the Ladder Base and scuttling up the exterior like metal cockroaches was the literal definition of a nightmare.

“TEIRO, THERE’S STILL PLENTY OF DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU AND THE ENEMY. ARE YOU SURE THIS ISN’T A FALSE ALARM?”

Alan’s voice crackled through the comms, sounding more annoyed than panicked.

“It’s a hole! There’s a giant hole in the ground!” Teiro shrieked. He heard the distinct sound of a tongue clicking over the speaker.

“IT’S ONLY BEEN FIFTEEN MINUTES… DAMN IT! I’M SENDING PHANTOM’S ENTIRE SQUAD TO YOUR POSITION. PRESIDENT, GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW! RUN!”

“Run? Run where?! How?!”

Steel monstrosities were already blocking his path home. At a glance, they seemed hyper-focused on Hogan, but Teiro wasn't about to stick around to poll them on their target preferences.

“If I go around the other side—”

He spun around to circle the tower housing the main gun, only to find himself nose-to-nose with a WIND that had just crested the wall. Teiro forgot how to breathe. He fumbled frantically at his back, his hands snagging on his gear three times before he finally managed to level his rifle at the thing.

“U-Uwaaaaaaaaah!!”

He squeezed the trigger and didn't let go.

Flames and muzzle flashes erupted in a frantic strobe light of violence, the recoil rattling his teeth. His wide, terrified eyes captured the WIND performing a clumsy, jagged dance of death until its leg joints shattered, sending it tumbling back into the abyss beyond the wall.

“Hah… hah…”

His legs were jelly. His trigger finger was so locked with tension that he literally had to use his left hand to pry it back into a neutral position. It took him a second to realize he’d managed to empty the entire magazine in roughly three seconds. He fumbled to swap it out, hands shaking like he was holding a live wire.

“HEY, TEIRO! THE SENTRY GUNS HAVE STOPPED FIRING! DO SOMETHING!”

Alan’s voice barked again. Teiro jumped so hard he sent his fresh magazine clattering onto the floor.

“I—I know! I’m on it!”

Teiro dropped to his knees, scrambling for the ammo. A shadow flickered across the ground, and something whistled over his head at Mach speed.

He looked up. A WIND was currently having a mid-life crisis three feet above him, struggling desperately to pull its hooked hand out of the masonry it had accidentally embedded it in. Teiro decided he really didn't want to know the physics of how that had happened.

“…………”

Despite the frantic thrum of the Sentry Guns restarting nearby, his brain was entirely occupied by the apex predator of the galaxy currently dangling in front of him. Is this what true terror feels like? a strangely calm part of his mind wondered. The kind where you just… stop working?

Ah, so this is where I die?

The WIND finally ripped its scythe-hand free, wobbling precariously as it pivoted toward him. It tilted its tiny, disproportionate head for a fraction of a second, then raised its massive blade high for the killing blow.

“Hogan, keep the President safe.”

A shot rang out. The WIND’s raised elbow vanished in a spray of sparks and shrapnel, its limb falling to the floor under the cold command of gravity. The creature staggered, miraculously stabilizing itself on its four remaining legs, but a split second later, each of those legs was systematically dismantled at the joint.

“Aye, aye, sir! Consider him kept! Sorry, President, we’re taking a little detour.”

Suddenly, Teiro felt himself being hoisted into the air. He stared blankly at Hogan’s face as the cyborg leaned in, then caught a glimpse of Phantom standing further back—the man who had just surgically deconstructed the WIND’s mobility.

“When they’re like this, they’re almost cute… No, never mind. At best, it’s a grotesque lawn ornament.”

Phantom strolled forward with the casual grace of a man taking a Sunday walk, lifted the limbless hunk of metal, and tossed it over the edge of the roof like he was taking out the trash.

“Strike, Captain?” someone asked.

“No, there are too many pins for that. Let’s hope for a few spares from orbit.”

Phantom shrugged, nonchalantly sliding fresh rounds into the handgun he always kept tucked away as if he hadn't just defied the laws of combat. Behind him, more WIND began pouring over the roof’s edge, their massive frames all swiveling toward the lone sniper.

“This is bad… I have to help him!”

Teiro summoned every ounce of his meager courage and tried to lung forward. Instead, he felt a massive tug on his collar as Hogan dragged him in the exact opposite direction.

“Not to be a killjoy, President, but you’d just be in the way. Leave this to us Enhanced Infantry.”

Hogan’s voice was patronizingly gentle. Teiro was about to protest until he saw what was happening behind them.

Phantom was dancing. He swayed and dipped through the air, loading his weapon with rhythmic, fluid motions. The WIND scythes—blades that could slice through reinforced steel—cut nothing but oxygen. To Teiro, it looked like the monster was missing on purpose; it was that absurd. Phantom wove through the swarm, finally leveled his handgun, and unleashed six shots with the fire rate of a heavy machine gun.

Six WIND froze instantly. Their heads were gone, and the bullets seemed to have triggered secondary internal explosions that turned their torsos into scrap metal.

“...No. No way. That’s cheating,” Teiro muttered to himself while being dragged away. That wasn't a human feat. That was a glitch in the simulation.

“Please don’t ever ask me to copy that,” Hogan grumbled. “It’s physically impossible.”

“You say that, but aren't all Enhanced Infantry supposed to be… wait, okay, put me down. I can walk.”

“If you say so. Look, if every cyborg were a monster like the Captain, the entire Land Combat division would just be three guys and a dog. The reality is, he’s a freak of nature. Right?”

“Well… when you put it that way… I guess the title of 'Strongest in the Galactic Empire' isn't just marketing,” Teiro said with a strained, twitchy smile. He had the same thought now that he’d had when he first hired the man: Why the hell is he working for me? With skills like that, he could have been a god in any military or corporation.

“Yeah, he’s something else. But he’s not invincible. Even the Captain can’t solo this many forever. I give him ten minutes, tops.”

Phantom’s subordinates were already sprinting past them into the fray. Teiro watched them go, thinking that surviving ten minutes in that blender was already a miracle, but then the weight of those words hit him.

“This is a disaster… we have to get everyone out!”

The defense of Ladder Base was officially a bust. The enemy was spawning at a rate that defied logic. Subtracting the time it would take to activate Operation Aurora from the ten minutes Phantom could buy… they were five minutes short of not being slaughtered.

“Alan! Alan! The defense has failed! Order a total withdrawal!”

“...UNDERSTOOD. ISSUING BREAKOUT ORDERS TO THE TANK UNIT. EVERYONE HAS FIVE MINUTES TO CLEAR THE BASE! ANYONE LEFT BEHIND WILL BE DELETED ALONG WITH THE FACILITY BY THE DETONATION CODE!”

Alarms blared across the base, and Teiro’s helmet display washed red with warning symbols. Biting back a surge of bitter regret, he sprinted toward the underground passage. He wanted to help guide the evacuation, wanted to stall for time, but he had a more critical job.

“Teiro! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!”

Inside the tunnel, he spotted Marl amidst the sea of retreating staff. She lunged at him, patting down his Armed Suit to check for holes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! No holes. But we have to move. We’re the only ones who can authorize the Detonation Code and the Information Disposal.”

“I know… but God, this sucks. I can’t believe it’s ending like this.”

“It’s not your fault. We had zero intel and no time. If it’s any consolation, we did better than we had any right to.”

“I guess… Hey, we’re heading for the NASA headquarters by tank, right?”

“That’s the Evacuation Plan. But honestly? We might just have to keep driving on the surface. If those things are this thick, I don't know if the NASA Underground City will hold, and—”

“Are you saying we might be leading them straight to the refugees?”

“...Yeah. Something like that. We’ll have to play it by ear. Honestly, I’m just glad the tanks are faster than those things.”

“So we just keep running while the guys upstairs bomb them into oblivion? It’s a battle of attrition, then. But Teiro, that Operation Aurora of yours… it’ll actually work, right?”

“Trust me. Back on Earth, it was all over the news. I forget exactly when, but it’s legit.”

“Hmm. Theoretically, I see it, but it feels so… unreal. I don't think anyone ever anticipated having to fight a ground war on a planet.”

“Probably not. You don't study naval tactics in a world without water. The concept doesn't even exist… Still, five minutes short… Damn it!”

Teiro cursed the five-minute gap between victory and annihilation as they reached the base’s nerve center. To prevent any accidental triggers or hacking, the Self-Destruct Procedure and Information Disposal had to be initiated manually from the primary terminal.

“Hey, Koume. Good work. Running ops for everyone must’ve been a nightmare.”

He used his Executive Card Key to enter the control room. Koume emerged from a specialized EMP-shielded sheet and gave a solemn nod.

“Not at all, Mr. Teiro. Compared to the roof, this was paradise. Are we here for the Detonation Code and Information Disposal?”

“You’re a lifesaver, Koume-chan. Make it quick.”

“Understood, Mr. Teiro. Commencing Detonation Code entry and total Information Terminal erasure. Is this acceptable?”

Teiro opened his mouth to say "yes," but the words died in his throat.

The Orbital Satellite Elevator was a monument to wasted billions. If the base was lost, the financial hit would be catastrophic. Worse, Rising Sun had steamrolled over every objection to this project using their secret Earth-search mission as leverage. The political fallout would be radioactive. And the men he’d lost… it was too much to swallow.

“Five minutes… No, even three… just give me something to stop those bastards…”

He scowled, his face contorted with a mix of rage and grief. He stood there, wasting precious escape seconds, until he suddenly snapped his head up.

“...Hey, Marl. That main gun on the roof. Is it ready for another shot?”

“I mean, yeah, but what’s the point? It’ll just scramble their formation for a second.”

“No, I’m not aiming at their formation. I’m aiming at—”

Teiro pointed straight at the ceiling.

“The roof. Set the shells to zero-range detonation and let ‘em rip. I don't care if the turret blows up. Just blast everything right on top of us!”