Azure: The Pegmont Legion

Given the intelligence of these Great Spikes, since they were defending this area to the death, the tractor field was definitely here. "Where on earth is it?" Pegmont glanced back several times during his breakneck sprint, but still saw nothing. Logically, he had already passed through this area before, and he had just looped around it again; something as massive as a tractor field couldn't possibly be invisible. *I have to get an exact position first! Otherwise, how am I supposed to launch a surprise attack? What if I breach the wrong spot?* Thinking this, Pegmont abruptly swerved. "He... he's back!" The horde of Great Spikes, who had already stopped pursuing him, suddenly erupted into turmoil. Because they saw that pink human, like a high-speed truck kicking up sand and dust with its rear wheels, suddenly carve an arc to the left. "Block him!" Along with orders issued by the Red Shoulders, the battle formation composed of five thousand Great Spikes spread outward, quickly forming a semicircle. At the same time, the warships cruising in the sky tracked Pegmont's trajectory and began moving in unison. *Whoosh!* Pegmont did not charge their line. He kept sprinting, intending to use his speed advantage to loop behind them. However—*Screeech!* Another wave of frantic collective screeches rang out. Behind him, approximately another five thousand Great Spikes emerged from beneath the sand, forming another defensive semicircle. With that, on a plain somewhere on Mars, the Great Spikes formed a complete circle. The area they guarded behind them wasn't massive, but it wasn't small either. "So it's there." Based on this, the location was essentially locked down, just not precise enough. Without seeing it with his own eyes, he couldn't be entirely certain. "Looking at the situation, they probably dug a giant pit and built it underground. No wonder I couldn't see a damn thing. When did these stupid bastards get so smart?" Pegmont kept running, churning up sand and dust like a rumbling train, circling the Great Spikes' ring formation a full three times... Unfortunately, he still couldn't pinpoint the exact position of the tractor field. Unable to see it, he naturally had no way of knowing the construction progress of the tractor field, nor how many Great Spikes—especially Red Shoulders—were guarding right beside it, or how their defenses were arranged. "Screw this, I'll come back in the daytime." Running like this wasn't an answer either; Pegmont was hurting over the source energy blocks he was burning. ... He couldn't see it during the day either. The next day, Pegmont scouted twice—once at dawn and once at noon—only to return in disappointment both times. Those Great Spikes didn't move at all now. Even when Pegmont circled outside, deliberately baiting them, they refused to come out and attack, stubbornly maintaining their circular defensive ring. On top of that, taking advantage of the night, they had hauled over all the spare, non-functional hollow spaceship hulls, placing them in a full circle around that area. The spaceships were colossal, tall, and thick, serving as defensive barricades like city walls while completely blocking Pegmont's line of sight. "Pity there are no mountains there... I suppose I could carry rocks over bit by bit and pile up a hill to observe from, but if I did that, they'd definitely come tear it down, wouldn't they?" "Or what if I tunnel my way over?" "Great idea. The problem is, if I dig with the apparatus running, by the time I reach the place, my source energy blocks will practically be exhausted. And if I dig without the apparatus... I might be digging well into next month." Inside the T-type mothership—Pegmont had found his way back to his temporary lair on Mars today and was currently sitting in the cockpit... Laid out before him: A combat saber that had followed him for years, its edge nicked in several places from prolonged warfare, though its lethal efficacy remained unimpaired. A communicator that might already be broken, though Pegmont adamantly insisted it was not. A row of six concentrated source energy blocks reserved for super combat powers. Two fist-sized chunks of dried, hard meat—the only edible flesh harvested from Red Shoulders. ...Aside from the combat uniform on his back that hadn't been washed in nearly a year, and the tenth-generation super-combat-power-grade source energy three-dimensional maneuver gear strapped behind him, this was the entirety of Pegmont's reserves. No, inside the apparatus on his back, there were six more concentrated source energy blocks with relatively little wear. Added together, that made twelve blocks in total. Measured in the operational units of super combat powers, it amounted to two cylinders—meaning Pegmont had only one reload left in reserve. The problem was that for a super combat power—especially someone of Pegmont's caliber—the rate of source energy consumption during high-intensity combat was terrifyingly fast. Even concentrated source energy blocks wouldn't last very long. "It's not enough!" With a ninety-percent likelihood, the mere two cylinders of source energy blocks would not be enough to sustain Pegmont through breaching the Great Spikes' defense and destroying the tractor field... Reaching this conclusion, Pegmont sat on the deck, uncharacteristically dejected, head bowed in silence for a long time. In truth, he didn't even have full confidence that he could break through the Great Spike horde's defense right now. Due to having gone without proper sustenance for a prolonged period, his body had grown extremely frail. Meanwhile, according to Pegmont's observations over the past two days, the number of Red Shoulders among the horde exceeded at least 250... and in all likelihood, there were more lying in wait near the tractor field. Although some of humanity's top-tier combatants had by now established a tactical advantage against Red Shoulders in one-on-one or even one-versus-many engagements, this was over two hundred, perhaps even over three hundred of them—all massed in a single area. It had been a very, very long time since Pegmont had felt he might die. Even during his youth, when he constantly courted death by provoking elite experts in the source energy world, he had never worried about it. Later, facing Daie, it was the same; embarking on a solitary space odyssey to Mars, it was the same... But this time, Pegmont suddenly felt that he might truly die here. Die on Mars, as the very first human. *Clack!* The silence finally ended. Pegmont leaned forward, his first motion being to pick up the communicator from the floor, swiftly activating maximum authority to initiate a full-frequency broadcast. "Hello, hello, can anyone hear me? This is Pegmont." Three seconds of waiting, and just like before, there was no response. This time, however, Pegmont did not snap the channel shut as he usually did. After a moment's thought, he continued: "Urgent military intelligence. Huge trouble. Listen up, everyone. "This is Mars. Here, there is a Great Spike tractor field. "Damn it, those Great Spikes that fled Antarctica actually built a tractor field here, you know that? I only found out last night." As if someone were truly listening on the other end, Pegmont turned and gestured toward the tractor field, continuing: "Judging by how fiercely those Great Spikes are guarding it, the tractor field is practically finished. If we really let them pull it off, then batch after batch, they'll bring over the main Great Spike force along with that Puta'er, Miwang, whatever the hell their names are... "In probably less than a month, every single one of those bastards will be hovering over Blue Star. "Right now, there are over ten thousand Great Spikes here, including probably 250 to 300 Red Shoulders defending the tractor field. Oh, and some spaceships in the sky," Pegmont said. "Hurry up and send some people over. If that old man from Huaxia and that shorty Bochen haven't recovered from their injuries yet, just send whoever else—like that Han Qingyu, Wu Xu... Don't bother sending Auntie Christine, though; she won't be much help anyway. "Oh, right, make sure they bring lots of source energy blocks. Honestly, if I had enough blocks, I could take care of everything myself given a little more time. "Sigh, who knows if there's even enough time. "Probably not in time, what do you think? "You guys..." This smooth, urgent "dialogue" came to an abrupt halt here. Pegmont seemed to finally realize—or perhaps was forced to admit at last—that he was still entirely alone. No comrades. No communications. No food. No supplies. On this entire planet, there was only a nearly completed Great Spike tractor field and ten thousand Great Spikes waiting for him to tear them apart. *Beep... beep...* The lingering tones of the dropped transmission echoed lonely through the cabin, lasting perhaps thirty seconds to a minute. Then, with a low hum, the communicator kicked back to life. The communicator had been shut off, then switched on again. This time, Pegmont activated its continuous loop broadcast function. Things had reached this point; he figured there was no longer any need to save power. "Hello, hello, can anyone hear me? This is Mars—probably. Those Great Spikes that fled Antarctica built a tractor field here, and it's almost finished. "If you can hear my call, pinpoint my location immediately and muster top-tier combat powers to stop them. "Oh, right. I am... This is Azure: The Pegmont Legion, currently humanity's sole armed source energy force on Mars. We have not given up the fight..." Speaking up to this point, Pegmont laughed to himself. As his left hand slowly lowered the communicator, his right hand picked up his combat saber from the deck. "The decisive strategy is set. Tonight at dusk, the Pink Peg Legion will mobilize in full force to launch an all-out assault against the Great Spike tractor field on Mars."