“We’ve seen what he can do. Now it’s time for the Second Division to show our strength!”
“Well said! I know the rest of the frontline troops feel the same!”
“Certainly, sir!”
“Transmit to all units—prepare for assault!”
“Yes, sir!”
Mere minutes earlier, Shibano and the Second Division had been prepared to fall back, sacrificing a rear guard to save the rest of their forces. Now they were charging headlong into a full-scale counterattack.
And just like that, a large-scale counteroffensive—one that no human or demonkin had expected—entered a new phase.
✦ ✦ ✦
A short time earlier.
“M-Major…”
“Yeah. This is impossible.”
The expressions on the pilots’ faces twisted in fear as they watched an unexpectedly large number of monsters try to make landfall. They seemed even more scared than Shibano and the other leaders back at the command center.
Of course they would be. Unlike Shibano—who, as a commander, only rarely came face-to-face with monsters—these pilots fought them firsthand. They understood better than anyone just how terrifying these creatures were.
According to the standard thinking of mech pilots, medium-class monsters were weaker than large ones. The general staff’s combat strength estimate held that one twenty-meter large-class monster was equivalent to ten six-meter medium-class ones.
But ask any pilot with real combat experience which was more terrifying—one large or ten mediums—and they would answer the latter with no hesitation.
Numbers mattered in battle. Numbers were power. That was a simple truth.
For context, the usual kill-to-loss ratio against medium-class monsters was two to one for standard-type mechs and one to two for beast types.
Simply put, one standard-type mech could take down two medium-class monsters, while two beast types could handle one. But looking at that the other way round, it meant that two mediums could take out a single standard type, and one medium could take out two beast types.
Now, take a look at the current situation: one hundred and thirty-three medium-class monsters. Meanwhile, the interception force comprised only twenty standard-type mechs and forty beast types.
Going by the numbers, those twenty standard types could take out forty monsters. The forty beast types could handle twenty. In total, that might be sixty monsters eliminated.
That wasn’t even enough to deal with the sixty-two monsters they had initially been expecting. With several ace pilots and nearly a hundred gunners providing support, they reasoned that might be enough to scrape by, even with a couple of larges thrown into the mix.
But that was before they’d seen how many had actually reached land.
“Ten large and over a hundred mediums…? We’re screwed.”
You didn’t need to know Lanchester’s square law to understand that the initial difference in numbers translated directly into survival odds.
In other words, if sixty mechs went up against sixty-two monsters, it would be a close battle with casualties on both sides. But sixty mechs against one hundred and thirty-three monsters? That was a massacre waiting to happen.
Pile the large-class monsters on top of that, and it was hopeless.
Of course, depending on how they fought, their individual skills, and how well they coordinated, they could inflict some serious damage. But even in the best-case scenario, their intercepting force wouldn’t be able to avoid significant losses.
And if that happened, this battle aside, they wouldn’t be able to mount another similar defense.
…We’re going to have to retreat and leave the tank squads to cover the rear. Which means Colonel Shibano will no doubt stay behind, too.
That was the conclusion Major Yasuaki Sato, commander of the pilot corps, reached after tracing Shibano’s likely line of thought.
If you were outnumbered and couldn’t hope to win, or if you would take unacceptable losses, then all you could do was fall back, regroup, and fight back later. The Second Division alone couldn’t pull that off, but if they brought in help from the other divisions, it was doable. Which meant Shibano’s likely plan was: “Even if we’re wiped out, at least get the pilots and mechs who’ll form the core of the counterattack out of here alive.”
I won’t let his resolve go to waste!
He understood what Shibano must have been thinking: No matter what happens, make sure you get out of here. That was why Sato was already preparing to order a retreat—quietly, without drawing attention. But until the order officially came down from HQ, he couldn’t make a move.
If taking the fall for disobeying orders meant he could save even one more soldier, then he was willing to bear the dishonor of desertion. But there was a time and place for everything.
In this case, if the pilots pulled back too soon, the rear guard left to cover them might panic. And if that happened, the whole force could get wiped out, rear guard and all.
So Sato waited.
For when the rear guard was ready to die to protect the others.
For when the pilots were ready to live with the guilt of abandoning their comrades.
Not yet. Not yet…
“Major!”
“What?!”
It was Captain Kiyota, his second-in-command, who snapped Sato out of his anxious daze.
“Over there! Look!”
“Where…? What the—?!”
Sato turned to where Kiyota was pointing…and saw a four-legged mech firing what looked like a tank cannon from its right arm straight into the advancing monsters.
“Graaah!”
The shell flew in a straight line and slammed into the skull of a ten-meter-class monster. No matter how big one of those creatures was, take out the head, and it was dead. That one wasn’t getting back up.
“One shot? No—wait! Whose squad is that thing with?!”
Sato was stunned by the one-hit kill, but more than that, he realized the pilot had just disobeyed orders. He’d immediately demanded the unit’s affiliation.
Sato was the on-site commander. If the pilot claimed something like “We were ordered to shoot, but the CO froze up,” he could probably overlook it. But as far as HQ was concerned, the current standing order was to wait for the signal and then for all units to fire simultaneously. No matter the excuse, soldiers didn’t get to launch attacks on their own.
Sato was seething with anger until a voice from HQ cut through the tension.
“Message from HQ to all units.”
Here it comes!
“All forces, prepare for combat. Tank squads and gunners, fire on my signal. Pilots, prepare shields to protect the artillery during the counterattack.”
“Huh?”
Wait—this isn’t a retreat? What are they thinking?!
“I’m sure you all saw it! While we’re cowering at the monsters’ sheer numbers, a student—a cadet!—just charged into the fray and took the lead!”
A student…? What are they talking about?
“Major, could that mech be the new prototype they brought in for testing?”
“Prototype? You mean the one that supposedly took down four large-class monsters solo?”
“That’s the one. Rumor has it that it can only be operated by a student who enrolled just this year. It’s a weird design—beast-type legs with a standard-type torso.”
“That thing out there? It’s on a whole different level.”
Sure, it had four legs, but it didn’t have the organic smoothness of a beast-type mech. It looked more like a spider built out of cold machinery. The standard-type torso mounted on it just made it appear even more unnatural.
“What is that?”
“Graaaah!”
As Sato and Kiyota talked, that outlandish mech kept bounding across the battlefield, sniping monster after monster.
“Gyagh!”
“I ask you, can you really turn your back and run while a child fights in your place? I certainly can’t!”
One shot, one kill—well, sometimes two shots—but either way, it kept calmly and cleanly dropping monsters like some grotesque executioner.
“Major!”
“R-right!”
Whatever it looked like, it was definitely on their side.
And piloting it was a student from the academy. A kid.
Once that fact clicked into place, Sato finally understood what Shibano was feeling.
Strategic retreat?
Pull back and fight another day?
Leave a child fighting alone out there?
If he did that, could he really call himself a soldier?
Could he maintain his pride as a mech pilot?
“You’re right. Dammit, you’re right!”
If Shibano hadn’t seen this coming, then the kid’s actions must have caught him off guard, too.
And judging by how that thing moved, it wasn’t panic or fear driving the kid to disobey orders.
No—those were the movements of someone with absolute conviction.
That special kind of certainty only top aces had that said, “I’m not dying out here.”
“Skreee!”
If the monsters tried to shoot, they’d die. If they tried to retaliate, their opponent would already be gone. That thing was hopping around the battlefield taking lives like a grim reaper.
“All units, prepare for combat! Don’t let that student fight alone! Show them what we veterans can do!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Garoh!”
“But no freestyling! Hold your positions until I give the order!”
“Understood, sir!”
If they interfered recklessly, they would just throw off the student’s rhythm. That was why Sato waited for HQ to give the order to attack.
Steady… Steady!
“Bomph!”
Wait! Not yet!
Watching the new prototype slice through the enemy ranks, Sato no longer looked like a man drowning in fear. Now he was barely restraining the burning desire to leap into battle himself.