Open Fire

Great Spikes would purge any humans within their line of sight... This was fundamental knowledge taught in Azure classrooms, known even to raw recruits who had barely put on their armor. Of course, they would also choose to disengage voluntarily, attempting to break out when ambushed at an extreme disadvantage or when their lives were endangered... Purging was not their end goal; they had their own mission. However, the situation before Zhang Dao'an and the others right now... was likely not a breakout, but a completed purge. The two Great Spikes had disengaged early because the battle was already drawing to a close. They had judged that the one left behind was enough to finish off the last few survivors of Squad 1123, so they had departed first. As for what was happening over the mountain, perhaps they had simply crossed paths because they were heading in the same direction, or perhaps the rumble of the vehicles had caught their attention—no one could say for sure. "Go... quickly." Zhang Dao'an's voice caught in his throat. Injured from the recent fight, the very moment he engaged his apparatus and turned to rush down the slope, he pitched forward onto the ground. Yet he scrambled up almost instantly. It truly was a scramble. Before he could even fully stand, he was already using hands and feet alike, tumbling and crawling forward in a frantic rush, so flustered and disheveled that he looked nothing like his usual self as chief instructor. Of the eighteen instructors, two had left their corpses behind with Squad 1123. The remaining sixteen climbed back onto the truck. Now they had to hurry back... to save their kids. The engine roared to life. *...Clang.* The sound of an iron blade rapping against the vehicle's door drifted from the rear. The instructor at the wheel looked back and saw... six men. The last six surviving members of regional Squad 1123, every one of them already grievously wounded... had followed them down. They leaned against the truck, leaving broad streaks of crimson wherever their bodies made contact. The second lieutenant at their head raised a hand and tapped the door once more with the spine of his blade. "Open up." The instructor threw open the middle door. The six men practically fell into the truck. Even as the door began to slide shut, the truck had already surged forward... Without pausing to exchange words, the instructor behind the wheel engaged his three-dimensional apparatus to sharpen his reflexes. To any ordinary person, the vehicle tore along the winding mountain road at a speed that looked practically suicidal. The chassis pitched and violently rocked. The six men from Squad 1123 crawled together, huddling in a heap on the floor at the rear of the cabin, propping one another up to keep from being thrown out. "Truth is, you didn't need to come. You..." Old Cao, chief instructor of Regiment 491, began to speak. He did not finish his sentence; he had meant to tell them that in their condition, coming along was pointless, that they ought to preserve at least a spark of hope for Squad 1123. Yet the lieutenant, leaning back against the wall, looked up at him with a grin, cutting off the rest of his words. "For 1123... our Squad Leader Liang is gone... but with his temper, he wouldn't dare owe a debt like this." As the lieutenant spoke, he coughed twice. Thick blood welled from his mouth, spilling over his chin and dripping onto his uniform and the floorboards. "Hundreds of kids' lives... If we don't go, no one from 1123 will ever have the face to speak our unit's designation again." The lieutenant raised a trembling hand and weakly tapped against his own chest. "Even if we lived, we couldn't bear it. In here... it wouldn't be at peace." Having said his piece, the lieutenant gave another faint smile, his teeth coated in crimson. Instructor Cao fell silent, offering no further dissuasion. The lieutenant then reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Tilting his head, he fumbled with great effort to work one loose. Because his hands were slick with blood, by the time he shoved the cigarette between his lips, it was already soaked red. He struck a match to light it, only to be wracked by another violent coughing fit. A spray of blood shot out with the cigarette, both splattering onto the floor and smearing into a gory puddle. "Here." Zhang Dao'an lit one and held it out to him. The lieutenant turned his head, took it, and gave a brief nod of thanks. Clamping the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he leaned back against the wall once more and closed his eyes... Aside from breathing, he made no further movement and spoke not another word. He was waiting until they reached their destination. Waiting to deliver the final few slashes of his life—or perhaps, just one. His comrades beside him were doing the exact same thing. *** Back when Zhang Dao'an had switched to the internal frequency to request communication, Milla had actually heard him. But she had no time to reply... Because just seconds earlier, she had caught the snapping of brush and the distinct clatter of dead iron armor striking the earth, echoing from the roadside woods. Those two sounds were all too familiar to Milla. "Engage your gear!" Less than two seconds after her shout, a Great Spike burst violently from the roadside trees. Leveling its column sword, it slammed straight into the side of the moving truck. The vehicle flipped over, crashing into the trees below the shoulder and coming to rest on its side. The rollover itself did not cause much harm to the recruits who had already activated their gear, but the Great Spike's direct thrust and the savage horizontal drag of its column sword as it tore through the sheet metal claimed the lives of six recruits in an instant. At the same time, the second Great Spike slammed into the vehicle bringing up the rear of the convoy. The entire convoy was cut off and brought to a halt. Han Qingyu scrambled out through the shattered window at once. Grabbing whoever he could reach—Liu Shiheng, He Tangtang—he shouted, "Run!" "Run! Get out of the trucks! Fast, scatter and run!" Milla screamed at the top of her lungs. Instructor Chi, who had remained behind from Regiment 491, was almost certainly shouting as well. Yet their voices were swallowed up by a chorus of panicked cries. "Qingzi!" "Han Qingyu!" Even amid the pandemonium, Han Qingyu heard someone calling his name from behind. Looking back, he saw a cluster of forty or fifty recruits—comprising men from both Regiment 425 and Regiment 491, even including a Grade B+ among them. Instead of scattering to flee, they had banded together and drawn their dead iron straight swords. "Form up! Let's take it on together!" they shouted upon seeing Han Qingyu turn around. Whether from 425 or 491, every one of them knew that Han Qingyu was a Grade A. In that split second, Han Qingyu's emotions were a tangled, indescribable mess. Perhaps he should have admired their courage, but... better than anyone else present, he knew this was pure slaughter. Having witnessed Lao Jian's Squad 752 locked in mortal combat with a Great Spike with his own eyes, Han Qingyu knew full well how terrifying these creatures were. What was worse, there were two of them here, while these recruits... had worn their armor for less than twenty days. "Run!" he roared. Below the roadway lay a lethal expanse of open ground—a valley tucked between the two mountains... If they could just cross it, climb the dirt slope opposite, and lose themselves in the woods, Han Qingyu believed at least half of them could survive. He was certain that regional squads from the neighboring areas were already en route. Yet before the sound of Han Qingyu's shout could fade, both Great Spikes launched into motion. They lunged from opposite flanks straight toward the clump of recruits, gripping their column swords horizontally with both hands, slicing inward in a lethal diagonal crisscross. A whole swath of people was about to be cut down; an entire field of lives was about to be harvested. *Boom! Boom! Boom!* That was the thunder of the Milla 11 heavy autocannon. Milla stood not far away, her expression taut with urgency. The autocannon in her hands roared without pause, slightly arresting the momentum of the Great Spike charging from the left. "Run!" Instructor Chi from Regiment 491 had rushed over as well. Shouting a warning to his boys first, he wheeled around, leveling his blade to charge head-on at the Great Spike rushing in from the right. *Clang... Crunch!* The sword shattered. The column sword impaled his chest and hoisted him into the air. Dangling from the blade, Instructor Chi turned back for one last look, his lips mouthing, *Run... Run...* The cluster of recruits finally abandoned their delusions. Heeding their instructor's dying words, they turned and scattered at full speed. The one-sided massacre began, recruits falling one after another under the impact of the charges and the sweeps of the column swords. Han Qingyu was running with his group as well, blue light flaring across their bodies... "Qingzi!" Liu Shiheng, pale as a sheet and lacking a weapon, cried out suddenly. There was no need to look back to know what that cry meant. It was already too close—the clatter of armor striking the ground during a dead sprint sounded like the thudding footsteps of the Grim Reaper himself, right on their heels. Running was useless in this situation; they simply could not outrun a Great Spike... Han Qingyu drew his sword and turned around, bracing for a fight to the death. *Boom! Boom! Boom!* Once again, it was Milla and her heavy autocannon. Standing off to the side, she poured fire into the Great Spike. The creature's attention snapped toward her. Milla retreated, tilting her head to find Han Qingyu still standing there, staring blankly back at her... She offered a faint smile, then made a shooing gesture, waving him away like a grown-up ushering a child through the gates of a kindergarten. "Run." Milla smiled faintly, pointing toward the hillside. "Run..." "Run, Qingzi!" He Tangtang wheeled around and yanked Han Qingyu's arm. The crowd sprinted wildly, scrambling up the steep slope and plunging toward the woods without a moment's hesitation... Until they suddenly realized that someone beside them had slowed down and come to a halt. He Tangtang and Liu Shiheng stopped in confusion, glancing back with bewildered eyes. "Qingzi?" "...Take them and keep running," Han Qingyu said to He Tangtang. "What about you?" He Tangtang and Liu Shiheng blurted out together. Han Qingyu cast a glance backward. He Tangtang, Liu Shiheng, and the recruits who were passing or stopping all followed his gaze... At the foot of the six-to-seven-meter slope, the Great Spike that had been baited and delayed by the heavy firepower had now wheeled about and charged toward Milla. And Milla, entirely alone, was backing away while laying down continuous fire to hold its attention... drawing it off in the opposite direction. She was pulling it away on her own. Yet Milla was only Grade E. Even as a nine-year veteran, she was hopelessly outmatched by a Great Spike in terms of raw speed. Facing its head-on charge, her firearms and bullets could find no suitable leverage point to stagger it. In a direct confrontation, firearms were useless for anything other than drawing hostility; they lacked the power to inflict meaningful harm... And now, even their slowing effect had all but vanished. The Great Spike pressed its charge toward Milla. Milla retreated, firing... She knew that today was her end. *A shame I won't get to be your squad leader.* Milla had already resolved herself to draw her blade in a moment for one last, desperate stand. "...I really want to live. I only ever wanted to live; I never dreamed of being a hero..." Han Qingyu stood there, asking himself the question. His final conclusion: "Yet today, I can't just run away like this." The sight of Milla flanking the monster with her autocannon blazing, and the memory of her smiling as she shooed him away, looped endlessly in his mind. "Then we go together... What's dying anyway!" Seeing the whole situation, He Tangtang understood why Han Qingyu had stopped. Shouting at the top of his lungs, he strode back toward Han Qingyu. The other Great Spike was temporarily nowhere to be seen, while the one below had been completely lured away by Milla. The six-to-seven-meter slope was, strictly speaking, a sheer dirt bluff, its face nearly vertical... Up on the ridge, more and more recruits came to a halt, looking back at the lone figure below. The distance between Milla and the Great Spike was closing rapidly. Some of the recruits began drawing their swords. He Tangtang walked up to Han Qingyu. "It's useless... Give me your sword. Let me try," Han Qingyu said. He Tangtang froze. "Give me your sword!" Han Qingyu roared urgently. He Tangtang had no choice but to toss his blade over. Han Qingyu caught it. Holding both swords in a reverse grip, he turned and sprinted along the ridgeline of the slope, shouting as he ran, "Keep running, all of you!" Yet most of them remained right where they were. *** Milla was already preparing to discard her gun. Up on the slope, the recruits temporarily lost sight of Han Qingyu... He seemed to have veered off the ridgeline, cutting deeper into the high ground. He... "Milla!" The shout erupted from where Han Qingyu had vanished, echoing across the valley. The lingering roar carried straight into the next instant as Han Qingyu sprinted forward, broke into view, and launched himself—hurling his body off the highest point of the dirt bluff at maximum acceleration. He cut through the air like an arrow. In that moment, the positions of Han Qingyu, the Great Spike, and Milla formed three points of a right triangle... and the line between him and the Great Spike was shrinking at blinding speed. The very first sentence on the first page of the *Source Energy Three-Dimensional Maneuver Gear Combat Manual*: *Do not leap. Do not leap. Do not leap...* Yet at this very moment, Han Qingyu gripped both swords in reverse, his entire body suspended in mid-air, hurtling straight down at the Great Spike. The Great Spike snapped its head around and caught sight of him... Raising its column sword over its shoulder, it thrust upward to meet his descent. Hung suspended in the air, Han Qingyu had no room to maneuver, no purchase to push off from, and was moving far too fast to drop in time... Barring an anomaly, the column sword would impale him clean through. A breathless silence fell over the dirt slope. "Qingzi..." Tears were already spilling down Liu Shiheng's cheeks. Milla looked up, catching sight of that reckless figure. "Fire!" Han Qingyu's voice detonated in mid-air. Milla understood in a heartbeat. She fired. The heavy rounds of the Milla 11 poured upward at an angle... slamming directly into Han Qingyu's legs. Han Qingyu's vertically plummeting body was struck by the kinetic force of the rounds, violently tilting horizontal in mid-air... Just like that, deflected off course, he grazed past the tip of the column sword and hurtled right into the Great Spike's face. "Die!" Both reverse-gripped blades stabbed violently into the eye slits beneath the Great Spike's visor.