In Weathering Zone F9, prolonged and severe weathering lent the rolling crags and soil a majestic, otherworldly grandeur. Pegmont spoke up suddenly, announcing that this was the place.
Through CA117's observation periscope, a colossal, slanting cliff face expanded outward from bottom to top, resembling half of a sky-propping lingzhi mushroom growing against the flank of an immense peak.
Its canopy spanned broadly, with an immense vertical drop.
The valley below was deep and shrouded in shadow. Line of sight was blocked, as was the ambient light; from aboard the airship, it was impossible to see what lay beneath the cliff face, making it just as impossible to tell whether the tractor field was truly inside.
All that was clearly visible were a few scattered clusters of Great Spikes moving along the mountainside, alongside two or three heavily damaged Great Spike craft half-buried in the sand.
It looked hardly different from any other place.
"Are you sure?" Yang Qingbai asked over the communicator, for the stakes riding on this jump were simply too immense.
"Of course I'm sure! For a while back there, I watched them every day with my own eyes dragging craft over here to dismantle and build the tractor field. They've pulled things down more than twice already," Pegmont said with absolute certainty.
By now, he and Han Qingyu had already been waiting by the rear bay door for some time. The entire complement of over a hundred men aboard the ship stood in formation behind them, each soldier clutching at least two battleblades in their hands.
Perhaps because after so long, he could finally feel once more the presence of his people's army and his own place within it, Pegmont's entire aura surged steadily higher, mounting toward blind fanaticism.
"Qingzi?" Yang Qingbai asked in a low, somber voice, even as the airship darted at breakneck speed toward the target through the turbulent currents of source energy.
By now, the deployment of every combat unit across the expeditionary force was already underway. Over the theater-wide frequency came the faint hum of surging source energy, alongside the sound of tens of thousands sprinting at top speed in dead silence.
A hundred thousand battleblades remained dormant for the moment. Yet beneath the solemn silence shared across every staging area and the heavy, synchronized breathing behind every visor, everything was like a brewing volcano, poised to erupt at any second and ignite this distant, alien planet of death.
"Yeah," Han Qingyu chose to keep trusting Pegmont.
And, deep down, he truly hoped the guy would come through just this once.
If this truly was the site of the massive tractor field, then judging by the situation, the Great Spikes did indeed seem to have their attention thoroughly diverted by CA117. For now, they had not noticed the presence or movement of the expeditionary army, and their defenses were not particularly tight.
Furthermore, going by deduction, their new commanders—that one or two Daie—had surely never been to the Blue Star and never fought humans before; some oversight on their part was only natural.
As for exactly how many Great Spikes might be lurking in the shadowed depths beneath the cliff, there was no telling. Whether there might be more Daie or even a hidden Puta'er down there, no one knew either.
They would find out once they jumped.
If there really was a Puta'er down there, going now or going later would produce the exact same outcome. They wouldn't be able to beat it. There would not be the slightest chance of victory, nor even much chance of survival.
"I've made what I believe is the best choice. If that's how it truly turns out in the end... then so be it." Going all-in on fate yet again, bets placed and hands off, Han Qingyu told himself calmly.
This was likely a mindset that the vast majority of humanity could neither understand nor accept. While the entire world and the human race viewed Major Qing as their greatest hope for the future, Han Qingyu himself was actually far more pessimistic and despondent than any of them.
From the day he truly rose to this height, he had been pessimistic. It was just that he was the kind of person who would always stare straight into the face of despair, steel his resolve, and raise his blade again and again.
"Get ready," Yang Qingbai's command came over the communicator.
The moment the words left his mouth, CA117—barreling through the upper sky at blistering speed—plunged into a sudden, vertical dive. It wasn't a free fall, but a powered dive driven by its thrusters, moving at terrifying speed. The plunge lasted for nearly two seconds before the craft, without the slightest hesitation or hitch, carved a smooth upward arc through the air.
At the lowest point in the belly of that arc, still nearly a thousand meters above the cliff face below, the rear bay doors swung open.
"Good luck," Yang Qingbai said, pulling the ship into a steep climb and accelerating away.
From here on, his sole task was to draw the hundreds of Great Spike craft trailing behind him farther away—farther and farther still, ideally never to return here again.
...
The only response to Yang Qingbai over the communicator was the howling rush of wind.
Han Qingyu and Pegmont were already airborne. Bodies streamlined, they were plummeting at extreme speed. In such a vast sky, under the harsh glare of light, and with the swarm of craft screaming past overhead, their sudden appearance went unnoticed in the first instant.
In the blink of an eye, the swarm of source energy craft surged into the distance.
In the newly cleared sky behind Han Qingyu and Pegmont, roughly three hundred Azure-issue dead iron battleblades appeared midair, hurtling in the same direction and following them in their descent toward the earth.
These three hundred battleblades had been hurled by the hundred-odd Azure soldiers aboard the ship.
They did not possess strength on the level of Major Qing and Pegmont; they could not leap from the ship to fight at such altitude and velocity. All they could do, in accordance with Han Qingyu's orders, was cast their own and their comrades' blades toward the battlefield, letting their weapons accompany Major Qing and Pegmont into the fray.
400 meters.
300 meters.
As they plunged, the crest of the colossal cliff came into sharp focus, and the terrain surrounding the valley grew clearer in Han Qingyu's and Pegmont's eyes.
From the ground came the shrieking howls of the Great Spike swarm.
They had been spotted.
As more and more Great Spikes surfaced along the peak and across the slopes, the towering silhouette of a Daie finally revealed itself halfway up the mountain.
It bore a massive blue-light column sword upon its back, standing facing the cliff wall with its back turned. In eerie silence, it slowly turned its head, casting a glance at the two tiny creatures falling from the sky.
These were humans. It knew this. It knew they were their enemies in this war of civilizations—yet this was its first time seeing one in the flesh.
*Buzz!* The Daie activated. Blue light surged from behind both sides of its waist like crackling currents of high-voltage electricity, hissing and popping.
Then, with a resounding boom, the rock beneath its feet shattered. Without even turning around, its massive body vaulted straight up along the sheer rock face.
One step.
Two steps.
Two kicks against the cliff.
Two sections of rock exploded into dust and stone, raining down like a storm.
Half the cliff's height in just three strides. The Daie's third step planted firmly on the rim of the cliff top; leveraging that single push, source energy erupted as it spun upward into the sky, drawing its blade in mid-air.
At explosive speed, gripping the massive, blindingly luminous column sword in both hands, it slashed upward in a straight line toward Han Qingyu and Pegmont in the sky.
*Swish!*
In midair, driving straight forward without swerving, Han Qingyu unsheathed the battleblade from behind his shoulder, every drop of source energy erupting at its utmost limit.
*Swish!*
Pegmont drew his blade, his thick coat of body hair standing straight on end as his source energy erupted to its very limit.
Just like that, beneath the alien sky, high above the Great Spike tractor field, two humans and a Great Spike Daie collided along a single straight line, neither side giving an inch.
*Boom!*
*Slash!*
Han Qingyu's battleblade crashed into the incoming blue-light column sword.
Pegmont's battleblade swept through from below.
The two tiny human figures streaked past, continuing their descent toward the valley. And in the sky behind them, the Daie's massive body abruptly split into two.
Blue blood cascaded like a waterfall. Borne by impact and inertia, the severed halves hung suspended in midair.
It had underestimated humanity.
Because it had never been to the Blue Star and understood nothing of human culture, it had failed to ask the names of the champions it faced.
In a century-long war of civilizations fought in bitter endurance, for the very first time, humanity used Above-Vault level combat power to instantly slay a Great Spike Daie—on November 29, 1996, beneath the Martian sky.
Chapter 918