The violet beam hadn’t even faded when the first missile wave arrived.
Hundreds of point-defense guns snapped awake across the orbital defense grid, stitching the void with dense tracer curtains. Guard ships in high orbit raised shields and surged forward to meet the incoming fire.
Inside Edean’s fleet formation, one small, unremarkable ship drifted closer and closer from the rear. At first, nobody recognized it—until an adjacent ship finally pierced the holographic shell.
Too late.
“Ville,” Wyatt said calmly, “now. Lock the orbital-defense hub and the nearest warships. Return every weapon we’ve ‘borrowed’ these past weeks.”
“Yes, Captain Wyatt.”
In a blink, Free Will spat out one weapon system after another—beam lances, EMP missiles, Banshee charges, wraith missiles. Its single carrier fighter, Multicolor Arc, launched at the same time, streaking straight into the enemy cluster.
Edean’s ships hadn’t braced for a knife in the ribs. Two warships were split cleanly in half on first contact. Two missiles struck the orbital-defense command tower dead center, ripping away its shields—Multicolor Arc arrived in the opening and dropped a T-S2 nuclear torpedo right on the exposed hub.
The grid failed like a collapsing scaffold. Nodes winked out in a chain reaction—dominoes falling in silence. Point-defense guns across the web went dead at once.
Now Blin’s incoming missiles had nothing left to stop them. The spiderweb of orbital defense became an ocean of fire.
Ogen erupted in fury and ordered the fleet to concentrate fire on Free Will. But Wyatt had already pushed the engines to the limit, sprinting toward the main fleet’s rear quarter. Most shots missed. The few that landed were absorbed by shields. The damage was minor.
“Beautiful!” Blin roared from Genesis, laughter rough in his throat. “Cha-cha-cha! Wyatt, you stole first blood again! All ships—full firepower. Cover Free Will!”
A second violet beam swept in. Beams and missiles followed, building a literal wall of fire between Free Will and the enemy.
Then the fleets collided—interweaving and trading broadsides at close range.
With its magazines emptied, Free Will slipped through our own line and continued to the rear. At the tail of the formation, several supply ships had already unfolded and latched together into a ring-shaped temporary dock. Wyatt ordered Ville inside. Logistics bots swarmed the hull like bees, resupplying and patching damage at frantic speed.
Near the dock floated a mass of warships and transports so large you couldn’t see its edge—the 4,000-ship force reserved for the second front. Integrity was already among them.
The moment Free Will came to a halt, Linneya’s call came through. She was wearing a Tower Clan captain’s uniform now—less child, more officer. The sight of Wyatt on the channel eased her tension immediately.
“Thank goodness,” she said. “Wyatt—you’re back.”
“You look like a soldier,” Wyatt said. “A real one.”
“But… I’m scared I’ll mess up.” Her voice trembled. “When it starts, can you stay near me?”
“I can’t,” Wyatt said gently. “I’ve to take the ground force down and clear your path. Linneya—be brave. Today every one of us has to carry our own weight.”
“Okay…”
Big Blue shouldered into frame. “Linneya, shout with me. Fear gets scared off when you scare it first.”
“Really?”
“Trust me. I do it all the time.” Big Blue bellowed, “Aaaah—!”
“Aaah!” Linneya shrieked back.
“No, no,” Big Blue said. “You sound like a cat that got stepped on. Lower it. Put some anger in it. Like this: ‘I’m unstoppable!’”
“I’m unstoppable!” Linneya growled, forcing her voice down.
“I’m not afraid of anything!”
“I’m not afraid of anything!”
“I’m Carlos’s daughter. I’m as brave as he was!”
“I’m Carlos’s daughter—brave like my dad!”
“Tower Clan will prevail!” Big Blue pumped a fist.
“Tower Clan will prevail!” Linneya echoed, fist raised, bouncing on her toes.
Big Blue lowered his voice. “Better?”
Linneya exhaled hard. “Yeah… a lot better.”
***
At the front, Blin refused to get bogged down in a drawn-out orbital brawl. If he let the enemy pin him, more ships would pile in until his fleet bled out before ever reaching the atmosphere.
So he formed a spearhead and drove it straight down into the cloud layer.
With the orbital grid broken, Ogen judged a hard fight in high orbit pointless. Better to fall back into atmosphere and let the ground’s dense anti-air fire do the killing. Thinking Blin was charging right into the Five-Color Fortress trap, Ogen withdrew his fleet below the clouds to “finish it properly.”
Around Five-Color Fortress, every missile silo, turret, anti-air unit, and shield generator was already primed. Gun barrels tilted upward in unison. Warships in the sky raised shields. Fighter swarms circled and waited. The thunder from above rolled without pause as the clouds boiled like water at a hard boil.
Then the first capital ship burst through.
Then the second. The third.
Thousands of fighters followed, plunging like an iron spear straight into the fortress’s kill zone.
Everything fired at once.
Missiles and shells wove into a blazing net. The light of explosions turned polar night into polar noon. The first ship lasted five seconds before it was torn into fragments—so fast it barely managed a single shot. The next few ships met the same fate.
Blin’s fleet became moths diving into a flame.
Warships died one after another. Fighters fell like rain. And still, none of them slowed—every ship kept pushing, desperate and unblinking, toward Five-Color Fortress.
Seeing Blin’s target was truly the fortress, Ogen relaxed. Soren, in heavy armor, shouted at the screens from his fortified office, laughing like he couldn’t contain himself:
“Come on! Harder! As many as you’ve got—bring them all! Fill Five-Color Fortress with wreckage! Ogen—send every ship!”
In less than thirty seconds, the sky over the fortress became a slaughterhouse. Blin was losing around six ships per second. Any ship that entered the effective range of ground fire survived an average of ten seconds. Fighters lasted less.
Edean’s losses were a fraction—about one-tenth. The ground defenses were nearly untouched; a few turrets were damaged only because falling wreckage smashed them.
Debris piled into mountains. Edean had prepared for exactly that: thousands of heavy tow rigs ran nonstop, dragging wrecks away. The same wrecks became ready-made cover for their ground forces outside the base.
Genesis fired a long-range strike from high orbit, but at that distance the damage was negligible. Blin wouldn’t bring his flagship down into atmosphere—not when it would become the obvious focus target.
On the common channel, our unit count plummeted faster than even Blin expected. He adjusted the tempo. Ships began entering atmosphere farther out, with slightly reduced speed. Then he messaged Wyatt.
“Is your ship resupplied? Five-Color’s firepower is insane—we’re bleeding too fast. You may have to go early.”
“We’re ready,” Wyatt replied. “Anytime.”
“Good. Stand by for my order.”
Ten long minutes passed. The fleet sacrificed near half its strength—but it achieved the real goal: it pulled Aurora Plateau’s enemy forces toward Five-Color Fortress in a single mass.
Blin checked with Merc, hidden near Mist Valley. Merc confirmed what he’d been waiting for: the warships above Mist Valley had all moved out to reinforce Five-Color. But the ground force in Mist Valley hadn’t budged.
Merc also reported a new detail: a pillbox that looked like an entrance to an underground base. The number of robots moving in and out was staggering, including plenty of mid/large units. Still—if Azure Thunder had no guard, that would’ve been the strange part.
With the timing set, Blin issued the order.
Wyatt’s 4,000-ship force swung north toward Aurora Plateau.
On the common channel, Wyatt’s voice cut through the static.
“Awakened—this is our turn. We’re outnumbered several times over. This won’t be easy. I only have one requirement.”
He paused just long enough to make it bite.
“When this is over, none of us are missing.”
“None of us are missing!” the Awakened roared back.
“Check your weapons. Ten minutes to landing.”