Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: Chapter 7 Masquerade Ball (17)
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***
Boom—
Boom—
“How’s it looking? Think he made it in?”
“No clue. I’d have to see where he vanished to. We’ve been watching ever since that car blew up…”
Around the time Bex burrowed into the Raptor formation, Professor and Ian—who had parked their combat vehicle at a precarious distance and linked up—were observing the situation from afar.
Beyond Dome’s perimeter defenses, the railguns had kicked into full gear. The air tore apart with a screech, followed by heavy impacts that relentlessly shook the atmosphere.
It was a one-sided barrage from the city’s defensive installations. For a battlefield, it was almost peaceful.
Three minutes. Even without reserves in the city, five more minutes and this battle would end in victory. So why? Why did everything feel so damn uneasy?
‘They’ve halted their retreat. The T-7 tanks can’t cross obstacles despite being tracked vehicles due to their weight, so even if Raptor infantry takes losses pushing forward and unleashing miniguns, the power relays have advanced far enough that the exosuits’ shields won’t fail.’
“What’re you brooding over now? We’ve basically won.”
“Yeah. We’ve won. A few more minutes and that sci-fi movie main cannon will obliterate them clean. But… something feels off. Filthy off.’
From this distant vantage, war resembled chess in some ways. Right now, it felt like the opponent had made a move while you blinked, and it was your turn again. Something sneaky had happened, but you couldn’t confirm it.
They’d blocked Old Picture’s play.
They’d halted the Raptor legions’ retreat, closing the distance to the electromagnetic net, neutralizing the tank shells raining on the exosuit units and forcing casualties on the enemy—dragging them into a clash with the exosuits, which were nearly invincible, endlessly resupplied with power from the city, now free from bombardment.
Victory was theirs. In chess terms, they’d captured the enemy’s rooks and knights, on the verge of checkmate.
Yet the opponent was smirking. All because they hadn’t confirmed the purpose of that first retreat move leading to checkmate.
‘Hide. You still asleep? Hide?’
[.....]
‘Always unavailable when I need you most.’
Unease meant something known was nagging at him. What? What had he overlooked?
“The retreat… wasn’t it too quick?”
“Hm?”
“After their declaration of war, they retreated immediately. Before the electromagnetic net even activated. For that much gear in tight formation to move that fast means it was pre-planned.”
Raptors lose if they drag it out. The main cannon would charge.
Retreat buys time. They’d planned to stall before the fight even started.
Conclusion: Raptors aren’t worried about the main cannon?
“…Nah, no way.”
“Why? Figure something out?”
“Naaah… No way they’d go that far. Impossible. No friggin’ way. Right!”
As Professor continued, Ian’s face grew uneasy too. Despite his words, Professor’s expression shifted from confusion to shock, then to terror.
No matter how he denied it, from the Raptors’ perspective, the one way to turn this lopsided battlefield in their favor—making that retreat advantageous—was singular.
If that assumption held, something would go wrong before the main cannon charged.
***
The shift on the battlefield hit the ears before the eyes.
Battlefields overflow with noise: cannon fire, explosions, screams, shouts…
But around Dome’s city, the din dropped sharply.
Paaang—
The railgun rounds, accelerated by current not gunpowder, shattering the sound barrier.
Pababap! Pabap! Pababap!
The destructive yet subdued bursts from exosuit-mounted electromagnetic rifles.
Puk, puuuk!
Raptor tank shells halted mid-air by Speed Bump’s electromagnetic net.
The battlefield, filled solely with Dome’s advanced weaponry sounds, suddenly gained ear-splitting cannon fire—one, two, more.
Kwaaaang!
A massive explosion visible from afar, debris erupting, an exosuit shattered by a direct hit.
Grind!
Professor gnashed his teeth at his own stupidity. He could’ve figured it out with a bit more thought. But he’d brushed it off as being busy, distracted!
-----
[Good. 3rd Platoon, ignore that and head straight into Dome. Secure the central generator no matter what! If the Enforcement Division’s at the heart of this, they might already be moving!]
[Affirmative!]
-----
Before sending Old Picture, he’d overheard the Surveillance Division chief’s comms. One exosuit-equipped platoon deployed. Not outside, but inside Dome—fully charged exosuits couldn’t lose there. Ralph had judged the same, deploying 3rd Platoon and forgetting it…
‘What if… they weren’t enough? What if Enforcement finally infiltrated the central generator and cut the city’s main power…!’
Dome’s formidable combat power stemmed from near-infinite energy around the city. The central generator was barricaded with defenses, encrypted barriers, plus Surveillance exosuits. No ridiculous anomaly would fell it.
But if that ridiculous anomaly happened…
“We’re… fucked…”
“What? Speak up, Professor! Can’t hear over their barrage suddenly ramping up…”
“It’s not ramping up—the defenses shut down, so hits are spiking! Damn it! The main battlefield was never here!”
Professor bellowed amid the roar, whipping his head toward Dome behind them.
Sunset beyond the horizon, yet Dome’s city lay silent, lightless.
“The generator! Enforcement, Raptors, or both—who knows! Someone breached Dome’s defenses and downed the main power! Railguns, electromagnetic net, exosuit supplies—all offline!”
Kwaaang—
Kwaaaang!
No more air-ripping railgun shrieks; only Raptor shells shredding the open field filled the air.
Dome, stripped of attack and defense.
Exosuit units, protruding deep into the field trusting Speed Bump.
T-7 tanks advancing from both flanks, enveloping them.
A steel wall encircled the now-vulnerable exosuits.
“Hey, wait. If the railguns stopped…”
“No need to swap drivers anymore. Bex, even if he slipped in clean, staying put means he’ll get caught eventually.”
“Plan was to drive out the moment the driver swapped… This traps him there!”
Click!
As if on cue, Ian grabbed his gear and turned.
“I’ll go rescue him! You head to the generator!”
“Alone? Through that barrage?”
“…Ptoo!”
Ian spat instead of answering, lighting a cigarette.
“If not, I die. I’ll make it work somehow, so you hustle too. Flip the generator, and we reverse this.”
He’d accepted death.
‘My fault. My misjudgment shoved Bex—us three—into the fire!’
Professor clenched his fists white-knuckled.
“Don’t blame yourself. You’re no god. We’re just irregulars in this war. Raptors honed their blade on lazy Dome’s neck long ago. This was inevitable.’
Ian handed over grenade bundles from his bag.
“Life ain’t some lame game you win every time. And we haven’t lost completely? Not yet.”
Tap tap.
Ian extended a hand to his guilt-ridden friend, flashing half-white, half-silver teeth in a grin.
“Like always, thrash around and who knows? Right, ‘Miracle Man’? Show us something this time too.”
No retort came, not even his usual quips. Just gripping the offered hand.
“You know where my will is from last time.”
“...”
“See ya later, up or down.”
With that, Ian charged into the shell-swept field.
***
Five minutes before Dome’s power cut, Bex—successfully infiltrating Raptor lines—endured an agonizing wait.
“You’re a vet, eh?”
Led by an officer to the rear armored carrier of a T-7 tank, where fainted drivers were carted in and out periodically.
As Bex silently awaited his turn per plan, a short soldier in the corner—like him—spoke up. Frail voice, skinny wrists. Not a child. An elderly man, hunched from age.
“Not in the mood? Makes sense… Devoted your youth to Raptors, then discarded like trash for injuries, scraping by on menial tasks—only to end up here.”
‘Not just kids—useless old folks as consumables too.’
Bex listened silently. The voice mismatched the looks, but in this infiltration sans intel, chatting risked exposure.
The old man, staring at silent Bex, approached a newly arrived boy, brushing sweat-matted hair.
“I was a tanker like them once. Joined 3rd World War as support. Thought like them: world changed, so laws, people, morals must too. Too heavy to carry right—killed, then joined Raptors naturally. Believed them right.”
His wrinkled hand stroked the boy’s head, then gently closed his eyes. No ragged breaths for a while.
“This kid… just finished fifth shift. Railgun shocks too brutal for frail child bodies… I’m at my limit subbing… Legs won’t move, eyes fail. Next is last. Fine by me—karma for my youth. But these kids… what sin did they commit?”
Bex prayed for his turn. Too hard to hear. No—stick to plan. Can’t ruin Happen’s. He’s 100x smarter; his plan 100x better than mine…
Eyes shut, head turned—yet images burned: terrified kids huddled, frail old man shielding. Dry skin rustles, whimpers, trembling comforts.
Clunk!
“Next! Move it!”
Hatch opening—Bex bolted up without thinking. Irritated Raptor face looked angelic.
‘For the plan, the…’
Ignoring old man and kids, Bex followed to the tank’s driver seat right outside: cramped hole below left frontal armor. Explained the small size need.
Chzzik—
[You’re in—move! Slow-ass brat!]
Thud!
“Ugh!”
Scanning unfamiliar cockpit, a kick flew from behind.
‘Gunner’s spot behind driver.’
Pre-infil brief: behind driver was gunner. But voice suggested tank commander swapped in.
‘Deaf from shocks.’
Likely dropped in to kick orders for deaf kids.
Side-glance: thick protective suit vs. his simple uniform.
Thud!
[You lagged, sticking out of line! Do what you learned! Don’t touch anything—slowly, throttle up! Match allies’ speed!]
Boot to back, headset commands.
Professor’s plan: enter driver seat, drive forward out of formation. Kill them and escape—
Thud!
[Too fast! Line stopped! Damn kids—how to war with these?]
Grind!
‘Bruises on kids’ faces—from this.’
No anger. Gonna kill them anyway. Few hits cheap for life.
But Bex was furious.
No. Just kill, drive out. Even made backup from soldier’s sweaty shirt during change.
[Trash brats! Better serve Raptors a year early? Whining, crying—]
Pshuk!
“…No.”
Tank commander, venting stress in suit’s stuffy heat and battle tension, heard unfamiliar voice as his leg cooled suddenly. Breeze into seamless suit chilled sweaty calf.
“Wha… whaa! My leg! My leeeeg!!”
[Kergh!]
[Ambush—grrrk!]
Before shock faded, headset death rattles. Turning sweat-drenched—Bex had slain gunner and loader, knife to his throat.
“Sp-spare—”
“No.”
“Wha… huh?”
“Better future than kicks from scum like you in this hole.”
“Wh-what—”
Slash!
Slicing trachea without pause, Bex sighed guiltily—not for killing trash, but for Professor’s headache if plans derailed.
-----
‘Remember, Bex! Speed is key! Infil driver, sit fast, peel out of formation! Every second late costs 1% life!’
-----
“Off-plan… problems…”
But Bex turned to opposite side: waiting terrified kids.
“Hm? Hey, driver! Back to post! If you walk fine, still shift—kergh!”
New knife wicked sharp. Slaughtered guards around kid/old man carrier instantly.
Clunk!
Hatch opened; Bex peeked—a crying kid by old man dashed forward. Sudden backlight from dark interior blinded; shielding eyes, trembling voice:
“Me! I’ll go! Grandpa goes again… he dies!”
“Ro-Ronny! Come! I’ll go…!”
“No one goes.”
Up!
Entering via hatch, Bex petted tearful boy stepping up for old man, beaming innocently.
“Your life’s just starting. Way better than waiting death in this dark box.”
“You… that guy earlier…”
“Grandpa. Tanker, right?”
“Y-yes, but…”
“Eyes bad, legs gone— one more drive possible?”
“Tank?”
“This carrier.”
“Im-impossible… Soldiers nearby, others won’t just watch—”
“I’ll handle that.”
“Carrier… you…!”
Squinting eyes caught blood drenching Bex’s uniform.
“Yes. Taking you and kids outta here.”
Professor said drive tank out. Towing one extra carrier? Within margin?
‘Happen, sorry! Failed sneaky exit, slower escape! Couldn’t ignore this!’
Bex naive, childish for age—but unbreakable conviction.
‘Like 14th Squad uncle said. At least 1/10,000th payback!’
Good adults protect kids. Battlefield or life-risk be damned.
Chzzik—
[All forward tankers: Enemy power cut. Enemy power cut. All units, advance. Railguns stopped—no more expendable drivers. Full power, slaughter them.]
Amid disbelief-blinking old man, Bex, kids—Raptor order flowed.
Bex’s sharp ears caught surrounding tanks’ engines roaring alive.
“Situation changed.”
“Seems… so.”
“Grandpa. You can do it?”
“Of course… yes!”
Trembling limbs lifted fallen frame; wrinkled eyes teary, old soldier stood before Bex.
“Last time in life… I’ll make it…!”
“Please.”
Bex left old man, aided by kids to driver seat, exited hatch. Nearby tanks: real Raptor drivers swapping out kids one by one.
“You’re bad adults.”
Moments later, blood sprayed from carrier guards sequentially.
***