It was his chance!

Sam didn't think. He just dove. His light-class mecha's thrusters sputtered and screamed, but he didn't care. He was going back for Marco.

"Hang on, you idiot!" he shouted, forcing the controls forward. Only to be surprised that the sea of mutant corpses he was preparing to dig through to retrieve Marco had thinned out a lot.

"???"

In fact, it had thinned out enough for him to be able to fish out the heavy mecha's battered frame. But it had also made it clear just how much damage his friend had taken in that short period. The familiar mecha was slumped on the ground like a fallen statue, and Sam's heart lurched.

"Marco?! Hey, Marco, you fucker, answer me, dammit!" he shouted as he tried to rush over to him.

But then he froze.

Because something was still there, only his radar didn't pick it up. Alarms blared in his mind as a shadow moved, as if latching onto Marco's back.

"No!" Sam's voice broke; the butt of his gun definitely won't reach in time. "Not another one!"

The thing twitched. Then it moved.

But surprisingly, it wasn't attacking. Instead, the strange blue creature's limbs—no, claws—shifted and split apart, flattening out and folding over themselves like plates of armor rearranging into place. Segments rotated and clicked, locking together with a metallic snap, and in a blink, he was staring at something else.

Sam's eyes widened. "What the hell—?"

Had machines mutated, too?!

The creature's blue body was stretched and reshaped, panels sliding and folding seamlessly until what had once looked like a strange crab-like critter now resembled strange wings attached to the heavy mecha's back.

A low, rising hum vibrated through the air.

Then—

WHOOOM!

A gust of wind burst outward as the newly formed wings unfolded in full. Sam's mecha, as well as the straggler monsters, stumbled back as Marco's broken mecha suddenly lifted from the ground like some resurrected torso.

Sam's jaw dropped. His gun, long since out of ammo, hung loosely from his mecha's hand as he tried to figure out what to do with that development.

"What am I even looking at?!" he muttered, smacking a monster off his leg with the butt of his gun, not even breaking his stunned stare.

Before he could think further, a voice crackled through the comms—young, horribly out of place, and absolutely alive.

"Hello! Mister, I think we need to run to the high ground now! The water's really close!"

"W-what?! Who the hell—who is this?!" Sam yelped.

The voice came again, bright and annoyingly chipper. "Me? I'm a collector! Oh! And we're here to help!"

"…Collector?"

Further out, inside the cockpit of a medium biomecha, nestled comfortably against the chest of someone very sturdy, was the self-proclaimed cutest companion pilot, who was on a mission to see through his first looting—er, rescue—mission!

__

And it was only one of the many; all over the battlefield, mechas were being pulled from certain death.

Although just as many were thankful, there were probably just as many who were extremely baffled.

All across the wrecked coast, strange phenomena were unfolding—monsters bursting apart mid-charge as if by invisible force, others freezing solid before they could strike, and the rare few turning tail as though realizing they had made a terrible mistake.

For many soldiers, it was the only reason they were still alive.

In another area, a group of mechas was sprinting across the uneven ground, fleeing from a swarm of mutated beasts that were closing in fast.

"Go! Go! Go!" shouted one pilot, his voice cracking through the comms. "The smaller ones are catching up!"

"Forget the big ones—watch the ones spitting acid!" another yelled back as a glob of green venom splattered across the dirt, melting through the debris like hot metal through wax.

The soldiers could've escaped earlier, but how could they leave when half their squad was still pinned down? Their mechas limped and stumbled, armor dented and limbs sparking. They fired what rounds they had left, but the swarm wasn't slowing down.

Then—

THUD!

The ground shook.

A crimson blur dropped from the sky like a meteor, slamming down right into the middle of the horde. The impact sent monsters flying, their screeches drowned out by the mechanical whir of hydraulics locking into place.

A massive red mecha rose from the smoke, its shield snapping from its side to the front with a heavy clank.

Inside, Jax grinned. "Guess it's my turn."

He braced for action.

The shield hummed, pulsing once before unleashing a wave of kinetic force that rippled outward like a thunderclap.

BOOOOOM!

The mutated monsters were thrown backward—some tumbling across the ground, others smacking into broken wreckage. The smaller ones went flying like ragdolls, their acidic spit scattering in the air.

A brief silence followed.

Then one of the rescued soldiers let out a shaky laugh. "Holy hell, that was close—"

He didn't get to finish.

Because before anyone could even utter a word of thanks, their mechas were suddenly yanked upward—lifted by something unseen.

"W-what the—hey! Hey! Put me down!"

"Wait, wait!"

"WAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

The comm lines exploded with overlapping screams as mechas were hurled—yes, hurled—one by one, toward higher ground.

From atop the red mecha's head, a very unimpressed yet fashionable tortoise stood with its stubby legs. His tentacles stretched out once again, plucking up more mechas like lettuce and tossing them to much higher ground with shocking accuracy.

It was an unfortunate situation for the guardian beast, who was forced (encouraged) to work today. While there would surely be passable rewards after this, how could this server allow for that much dust, blood, and gunk? At this rate, how many scarves must he change into?

THWIP!

"WAAAAAAHHHHHHH—THUD!"

Each thud and the sound of trees breaking somewhere far off made Jax shiver, but at times like this, he thought that tough love was still love. Although he also concluded that it would really be best to add more dandelions to today's meal.

Just in case.

Meanwhile, Uno, Princess Kira, and Ada were in charge of evacuating the soldiers and controllers stationed at the outpost and transporting them to the satellite facility. There was obviously an initial confusion with the combination of rescuers. After all, two orcs and one unidentified person were running around to herd them all. But the Imperial battleship waiting for the soldiers definitely helped in morale.

However, unlike the rescues taking place all over, another group of three people was assigned an unusual task.

"D-29, how much more?" Kyle's voice came through, tight with focus as he fired another round from his secondary weapon. He stood atop a rocky ridge, eyes darting between the sky, the blonde, and the woman outside their mecha unit. She was fully suited in an advanced spacesuit and was patiently waiting for the go signal.

[89%]

[93%]

Another shot rang out as another mutated creature tried scaling the cliff's side. Kyle didn't miss. The creature exploded into black sludge before it could reach the ledge.

[97%]

Kyle reloaded quickly. "Any time now, D-29."

[100%]

[CONGRATULATIONS! GATE TRANSFER COMPLETED.]

"Head Maid Gloria, it's done!" shouted Kyle as he watched the woman open the double doors that manifested close to the edge of the cliff.

The doors creaked open, then burst outward.

And from within came a flood of movement.

Soldiers rushed out in droves. Veterans in full suits, their steps sure and precise as they sprinted forward, some diving cleanly off the cliff and free-falling before boarding their mechas mid-jump.

From the evacuating battleship above, hundreds of unfamiliar mechas soared into view, their formation cutting across the sky like a living storm. For a brief second, even the chaos seemed to quiet.

And it became a sight no one would forget.

Because in a small corner of an endless universe, in the middle of a battle that had already begun to crumble, where people screamed and prayed for help—

A hundred answered.