From the portholes, the planet’s surface stopped looking like a flat map and became a real world again—depth, curvature, terrain. The cloud layer swelled closer. The frequent, frantic flashes in the clouds told you how violent the battle below already was.
Using its unique rangefinding laser, Genesis marked a single bullseye ((bullseye)) on the cloud deck—an entry point the vanguard had paid for in blood. It was the safest corridor they’d found for Wyatt’s second-wave breach.
Free Will streaked past Genesis at maximum speed. Its running lights blinked in salute, and then it plunged into the cloud. Behind it came transports and escorts packed with machine soldiers, then battlecruisers, heavy cruisers, and carriers—finally Integrity, buried under layers of protection.
All the Awakened—except Wyatt and Dorian (Wyatt on the bridge, Dorian volunteering to stay on Integrity with Linneya)—packed into Free Will’s hangar, buzzing with adrenaline.
Heatproof started playing the most rousing passage from Gods Bless Plando, and within seconds everyone was chanting along. Then Big Blue paused, slow realization spreading across his face.
“Uh… aren’t we about to attack Plando?”
The hangar stuttered into silence. It did sound wrong. But the mood was already roaring, so someone quickly swapped every “Plando” in the lyrics for “Tower Clan,” and the singing continued—louder.
When the clouds finally thinned and the public feed showed Five-Color Fortress, the song died out on its own.
No one had seen a battlefield like this—not even robots who’d fought a thousand wars. Around Five-Color Fortress, a ring-shaped “mountain” of wrecked hulls had already formed like a crater ridge. And it kept growing—wider and taller by the minute.
By this point, over three thousand warships and around ten thousand fighters had been fed into Five-Color Fortress. Enemy losses were, at most, one-sixth of ours.
Blin’s strategy was clear: break in at multiple points around the fortress and converge from every direction—broadcasting an all-in commitment to taking Five-Color Fortress at any cost. After everything that had been staged, Ogen didn’t doubt the intent for even a second.
Wyatt’s breach point was one of those points—just the one closest to Mist Valley.
Free Will led the run. After punching out of the cloud deck, it pretended to head toward Five-Color Fortress for a while—really using the distance to bleed altitude. Once it dropped to roughly a hundred meters above ground, it rolled its hull and swung hard to starboard, turning a full 120 degrees.
The fleet broke away and sprinted for Mist Valley.
The second front had begun.
At the same time, a full terrain map of Mist Valley and its surroundings unfolded on the common channel. Thanks to Merc’s locator round, the position of the real Azure Thunder was now a bright, undeniable mark on the map.
Wyatt circled it in red. He circled Merc’s position in red as well.
Then he issued the order: all fighters out. Carpet-bomb everything outside the red circles.
More than eight thousand fighters launched in a single wave, screaming toward Mist Valley and nearly blotting out the sky. Flying low spared them at least half the ground-to-air fire. The towers, missile platforms, outposts, and robots along the route had not expected this sudden turn—some managed one or two shots before they were destroyed; some didn’t even finish rotating their barrels before they blew apart.
“Three minutes to target,” Wyatt said on the open channel. “Follow the plan. Inside the fog, short-range weapons only—no friendly fire. Prioritize anti-air towers and any ground unit capable of anti-air.”
***
“We can come down now, right?” Dorian asked from Integrity, still hiding in the cloud cover.
“Not yet,” Wyatt answered. “Too many anti-air towers. Wait until I’ve knocked out at least half.”
“But… Blin’s side looks like it’s about to collapse,” Linneya said. Even through comms, you could hear the strain.
“It’s dangerous down here too,” Wyatt said. “Give me one minute—thirty seconds would help.”
“O-okay… I’ll wait for your command.”
Wyatt ran for the largest missile tower on the map. He knew what Integrity was: a frigate. One missile hit could be enough to erase it.
As more of Wyatt’s troops landed, the picture shifted rapidly. He’d brought a hundred thousand units. Even if nearly half failed to land cleanly, it was still a flood. Mist Valley’s defenders, at best, were nowhere near that number.
Under Wyatt’s relentless push, the roar of anti-air fire slowly weakened. More friendly ships began arriving overhead. Heavy mechs—Destroyers, Tyrants—drove straight toward the grounded Azure Thunder without regard for survival.
It’s time, Wyatt thought.
He looked up, ready to message Linneya—then froze.
The fog was thicker. The sky was a smear of gray. Nothing was visible.
He checked other shared camera feeds. Same everywhere.
Had the fog expanded?
Merc answered instantly. “Smoke rounds. They’re dumping smoke. Anti-air towers are firing smoke shells now.”
Wyatt’s mind snapped. “That means—”
“Azure Thunder is moving,” Merc shouted. “It’s lifting off!” He zoomed the locator icon on the map until it filled the channel.
Wyatt felt his processor seize for a heartbeat.
“No—Ogen’s trying to run!”