An idiot arrived in a tank!
The tank, bristling with beam cannons, flattened the perimeter fence as it rumbled forward.
I knew these guys were dense, but this was a whole new level of stupidity. Assassinations were supposed to be a bit more discreet, weren't they? Usually, people tried to avoid getting caught!
I didn't think anyone was actually dumb enough to start blasting beam cannons in the middle of a city...
Apparently, they were. They fired without a hint of hesitation.
With a thunderous boom, the front gate was vaporized. The fountain and the surrounding sculptures followed suit, reduced to rubble in an instant.
"Edge! Coco! Get inside, now!"
"B-but we have to stop them!" Edge stammered.
"You can't do squat against a tank on foot! Get moving!"
"Lord Groom!" one of the veterans shouted. "There’s a military-grade humanoid heavy machine in the back!"
I didn't wait. I broke into a desperate sprint.
"Dammit! Are they morons?!"
The moment the words left my mouth, an explosion erupted behind me. The shockwave tossed me into the air like a ragdoll.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
Just before I slammed into the concrete, I tucked into a roll to disperse the impact. I tumbled across the ground, bleeding off the momentum, and scrambled back to my feet without stopping.
"Are they serious?! Even if I roll, it still hurts like hell!"
The tank wasn't even targeting me specifically. I'd just been caught in the crossfire of their random, chaotic shelling.
I found the humanoid heavy machinery and vaulted into the cockpit. Since it was a military model, the safety limiters could be deactivated with a single toggle. You couldn't exactly go to war with a machine that refused to play rough.
I flipped the switch, engaging Combat Mode. If this had been a model from one of the battleships, it wouldn't have even had safeties to begin with. I’d have preferred one of those right about now!
I revved the machine, the Imperial Army logo on its shoulder gleaming as I stomped back toward the rampaging tank. It wasn't hunting a specific target; it was just spraying beams blindly at anything that moved.
The hotel’s front entrance shutters were closed. They were heavy-duty enough to withstand beam fire for a while. Reinforcements would surely arrive before the gate gave way... assuming this wasn't all some calculated part of the Imperial Succession Struggle.
"Uooooooooh!"
The tank swiveled its main cannon toward the shutters. I charged.
Like I'd let you, you moron!
The tank noticed me, reversed, and pivoted on its treads. It leveled the main cannon directly at my cockpit and fired.
I already knew where the shot was going. I pulled a sharp, rugby-style zig-zag, dodging the beam by a hair's breadth. Closing the distance in a flash, I grappled the tank from the front.
"Dossei!"
I fired the piles from both legs, driving them deep into the concrete. My machine was anchored.
The tank pilot revved his engine to full, trying to trample me under his treads. I knew I had him.
"Take this, you bastard!"
My motors screamed with a piercing mechanical howl. Don't underestimate military heavy machinery!
The tank's crawler tracks ground against my machine’s frame, tearing into the metal. Sparks sprayed everywhere as my outer plating buckled.
Now!
I triggered the leg-mounted gunpowder assist. Usually, it was meant for clearing obstacles or jumping.
"Eat it!"
My machine bucked upward. The sudden force from below flipped the massive tank onto its back.
The strain was too much for my anchors; the legs I'd piled into the floor tore away, and my machine was slammed back against the ground. A sickening crack echoed through my chest—the unmistakable sound of ribs snapping.
I forced the pain to the back of my mind. If I acknowledged it, it would only hurt worse.
I scrambled out of the cockpit like a cockroach fleeing a light. The tank pilot was doing the same. Our eyes met.
The pilot reached for a handgun at his waist. I watched his eyes, tracing his line of sight. He was aiming for the center of my torso. It all came down to timing.
Whatever. If I fail, I'm just dead.
I felt the spike of killing intent. I threw myself to the side.
"No way! He dodged a handgun?!"
Think I can do it a second time? I feel like I can! Come on, bring it!
...Except I didn't need a second time. A group of Mohawk-sporting Imperial Guard veterans had already appeared behind the pilot.
"Ah..."
They didn't even bother with the cliché of cracking their knuckles. They just started swinging. Multiple men, all at once. Bare-handed.
They showed absolutely no mercy. No one was pulling their punches. They kicked him with the reinforced toes of their military boots and rained down heavy, mallet-like fists.
"You piece of crap!" one of them roared.
He grabbed the pilot by the collar and began tenderizing his face while another veteran slugged the man in the back of the head. Once the pilot hit the dirt, the military boot kicks and stomping began in earnest.
The "interrogation" only stopped once the guy's face was roughly 1.2 times its original size.
They were scarier than the Yakuza... and they weren't just trying to hurt him. They were hitting him with the clear intent to kill.
"He's still breathing, barely... Take him to the basement!"
"Uh, is that interrogation going to be... okay?" I asked tentatively.
"Lord Groom," one of the veterans said, turning to me. "Do you really want to know?"
"No! I, Leo Kamishiro, believe that I should leave these advanced techniques entirely to my respected Imperial Guard seniors!"
"Very good."
"Hey, you! Don't you dare die yet!" the veteran barked at the unconscious pilot. "I'm about to show you what hell looks like!"
That interrogation was definitely going to fail any TV rating review.
Phew. Better to leave the monsters to the monsters. When I actually stopped to think about it, it was crazy for me to be the one putting my life on the line.
As the adrenaline faded, a sharp, stabbing pain flared in my chest. Was it three? Did three ribs go? For some reason, my leg started throbbing too. I dragged myself toward the loading entrance, limping heavily.
Inside, I found the medical staff and Kevin.
"I’m done... I can't..."
"Leo! Wait!" Kevin shouted.
"Ngh!"
"Lie down, right now! Nanomachines! Get the nanomachines and painkillers, hurry!"
"My ribs are broken, I think..."
A doctor rushed over, took one look at me, and turned pale. "Your leg is broken too! Don't move! Not an inch! Stretcher! Get a stretcher over here, now!"
The pain became unbearable. I’d sworn I wouldn't faint this time, but they put me under with anesthesia before I could argue.
When I woke up, my wife was sitting by the bed.
"...Yo."
"Your heroic exploits are being broadcast everywhere, Lord Groom. Want to see?"
"Sure."
She brought up an augmented reality display. My entire fight had been caught on camera. They were playing the clip of me doing the dosukoi to the tank on a loop.
"When was that even filmed?"
"Apparently, there was a drone nearby."
"Huh. Talk about lucky timing."
"It wasn't luck," Veronica said, her expression grim. "The Empire leaked the attack in advance."
"What? So the Empire was behind the attack?"
"No. They simply knew it was coming and chose to let it happen. They predicted that you or the Imperial Guard would be able to handle it. Now, they're using this footage to promote you as a 'Fierce General,' the 'Strongest Soldier,' and a 'Hero since the Empire's Foundation.'"
"I don't like that. That's creepy."
"Whoever orchestrated this is playing for keeps, but I don't understand their endgame. It seems they aren't trying to force the throne on me."
"Why not?"
"Because there isn't a single article praising me. Be careful, Lord Groom. They may try to corner you with more indirect methods next time."
"Eeeh..."
I could only lie there in a daze, processing the headache of Imperial politics while the nanomachines went to work on my bones.