Capitalism's Steel Tide Sweeps the Stars
Right after Colossus Robotics recorded crowdfunding and home shopping sales that would go down in history, the production base—now stocked with ample raw materials—began churning out mass-produced Colossuses at a blistering pace.
The pilots, operating safely from Kikiwai with zero-latency remote control, maneuvered their Colossuses to encircle and annihilate the space monsters surrounding Nanoi and other planets. The grotesque beasts that had filled the 0.1-dimensional solar system were turning to dust one by one, scattering into the void of space.
There was no comparing their numbers to the space monsters', but the Colossus pilots were veteran aces worth a hundred men each. And now, with destroyed units recoverable and fresh ones launching straight into the fray from the production base, there was no reason for the Nanoians to lose.
"If it's numbers you want, we've got 'em too! Come at us!!"
"Waaatch—thiiiis—!!"
"Plasssma Bllaade—!!"
"Zzaaayyokooo—!!"
Hot-blooded Afro Sass fever spreads!
Weapon names, battle cries—pure mecha anime vibes!
Before long, it was as if Afro's hot-blooded persona had gone viral. Pilots screamed weapon names cribbed from somewhere familiar, howling battle cries as they charged their Colossuses. Even shot down a dozen times, a new one would streak in from across the void to pounce on the monsters. It was an alien sensation for space beasts that always relied on overwhelming numbers.
The mass-produced Colossuses pouring endlessly from the capitalist-expanded production base formed a veritable wave of steel. Even the space monsters—emotionless bioweapons bred solely for destruction—began withdrawing their planetary siege in the face of that sheer momentum.
The tide was turning. Monster numbers dwindled while Colossus ranks swelled. It took just seven days for them to surround and eradicate the largest icy planet the monsters had occupied. Peace in the stars was preserved—not by courage or hope as people had hoped, but by capitalism and the violence of sheer numbers.
It had been two weeks since Nanoi Planet fully escaped the space monster threat. Pilots including Afro credited the restored communications as the key to their peak performance. Once the signal hijacking ended and enough monsters were wiped out, the Nanoians reconnected with their homeworld.
The brave warriors from the 6-2 dimension's space forces, fighting afar, saw their families' faces on screens and surged with renewed vigor against the foe. May 4th was declared Victory Memorial Day across the 0.1 solar system. Soldiers and researchers received medals from home, basking in glory.
Afro Sass stood out above all. Thrust into interdimensional stardom, he published an autobiography of his war experiences, rocketing to bestseller status. As promised, Director Bergenev Masterhand snapped up the film rights and announced a swift movie adaptation.
Kim Jian figured by the time Afro and his lover tied the knot and had kids, the film might already be playing in theaters.
Meanwhile, those who'd crowdfunded or home-shopped Colossuses from various dimensions were reveling in satisfaction.
"Combine!!"
-Whirr!!
-Clank clank!!
The advanced AI aboard the Colossus responded to its owner's voice, transforming and merging mid-air into a majestic super robot form.
Mass-produced units lacked the monatomic gold reactor, so they couldn't achieve the ultimate golden Gold Colossus mode. But the buyer of the Super Early Bird Package D was thrilled he could fuse his five machines anyway.
"Mass-produced hits different. There's a flavor you just don't get from one-offs…."
In a subtropical farmstead in Dimension 41, the farmer grinned as his Colossus diced yard pests in low-lethality mode.
He'd returned to the land to tend orchards, but once he was an ace engineering student and subculture otaku. In his eyes, the combiner Colossus was flawless.
The scarred outer armor told tales of brutal space combat—raw history etched into the machine, a record of the interstellar war fueled by countless dimensions' support. That's why so many ordered the unscratched "Vintage Edition."
"Oof. Vintage…."
Caressing the still-warm armor after shutdown, the farmer sighed wistfully.
[With Gratitude. Lt. Borodov.]
— Laser-Engraved Pilot Signature —
The farmer's face softened as his fingers traced the lasered pilot script, unique ID, and donor name. To outsiders, he was just a humble farmer. But he and the Nanoians knew: this man had helped save a universe.
Someday, he'd tell his kids he'd chosen right at the crossroads. Undeniably so. This Colossus had turned the tide in defending the Nanoi system. Without his resolve, it might never have been built or deployed.
"……."
The farmer carefully cradled the powered-down Colossus like a medal and headed inside. The Milky Way shimmered pure overhead, blessing the tiny miracle born of one person's hand reaching out to another.
Dimension 6-2. A tiny uninhabited islet far from Kikiwai's main island. Known as a tycoon's private retreat, strictly off-limits outside summer party season.
On the sunset shore stood two men. One: white-furred minotaur banker, Deputy Manager Bishuti. The other: elderly catfolk in a wheelchair, prosthetic legs instead of natural ones.
The visual gulf between catfolk and humans was just ears and tail. Yet the old man's poised dignity, back ramrod straight, matched Bishuti's without flinching.
His wrinkled face held eyes like ice—sharp, unyielding. Immaculately suited, he fixed Bishuti and spoke.
"…Good work. Deputy Bishuti."
Bishuti snapped a rigid salute to the elder who addressed him casually, as if it were natural.
"Just doing my duty, Brigadier Nesmento."
"…Didn't I tell you to call me Director now?"
Nesmento waved off the words with a faint smile.
"But you're right. We had to finish it. Those monsters."
The guE faction comprised soldiers who'd danced with death on 25th-dimension battlefields for years. This elder, one of their leaders, murmured wistfully.
Space monsters were gene-spliced assassins from 25th-dimension Erasmus's military dictatorship—not natural creatures. Few knew this.
Bank of Erasmus Fairy employees—precursors to Dimensional Credit Vault staff—had fought those warlords oppressing the masses long before banking, losing countless comrades to the beasts.
They'd slain the dictator over those corpses and built a new regime, but the killer bugs escaped labs into other dimensions. The horrors plaguing 0.1's planets were those evolved minions.
Even if through Nanoian hands, their total extermination meant the world to guE. It cleared the last shadows of the old era from Erasmus—and avenged fallen comrades.
"Maybe coincidences don't exist, as the President or gods say."
After a pensive silence, the elder continued slowly.
Finally purging the dregs of that Great War enemy—not as soldiers, but bankers. It felt fated. His gaze drifted past Bishuti to some distant point.
"A long memorial. Now those who went first can rest easy."
Eyes closed, he pictured old comrades who'd fallen first in their shared fight. He'd never bought into fate. But agreeing to the guD execs' Kikiwai outpost had let guE tie off old grudges.
"If this whole ending was her fate-weaving, we're all puppets on her palm. Not bad, though. guE got what we wanted. guD too."
A wry chuckle creased his wrinkled face. He placed hands on his wheelchair wheels—time was short per schedule.
"Still, we owe her. Even if she planned this from the start, debts must be paid."
"May I ask what you mean…?"
Bishuti's query drew a serene reply.
"Who knows. I don't fully. Unless she's after something from us—but you know she isn't."
"I can't fathom why she'd show guE such favor this way. Surely not expecting us to yield on that agenda—"
"No chance. It's faction war fuel. She'd never think we'd fold for this."
"Perhaps she's finally ready to use her Job Authority."
"Hm…."
They realized it: deep down, they'd already admitted owing the President.
Her divine power as a goddess was absolute—collecting debts from debtors in her chosen way. Maybe at the next board meeting, she'd table something and collect guD's "yes" votes by force.
"Makes sense. Defying her authority is near impossible. That's why I hated taking her bait."
They pondered gravely.
"How to repay without overdoing it…."
"Fail, and the next board meeting forces it through her power."
"We pay before then."
"She dotes on that kid from 3-1, right?"
"…Agent Kim Jian?"
"Probably."
Nesmento nodded, but Bishuti looked baffled.
"What about Agent Kim…?"
"Save him when he's in danger. That should satisfy her."
Bishuti couldn't parse it. Why assume Kim Jian would face peril? Signal hijackers were caught recently. No risky assignments meant no banker threats.
"Why expect trouble, sir? Board meeting's soon. We should find another—"
"No. It'll happen. A headache."
"……."
"Know a client eager for Vault dealings. Told 'em to visit the outpost. Don't worry—credit's solid."
"What does that…."
"Who knows."
Grinning mischievously, Nesmento departed with his aide.
"Still playing people like chess pieces…."
Evidently, Director Nesmento aimed to repay the debt—and test Kim Jian—while countering her authority. Bishuti, long acquainted, had never seen him care about another faction's banker.
It meant Nesmento respected Kim, in his way—but…
"This won't be easy."
Bishuti was certain he'd suffer migraines through it all.
…
"Tch… Why are my ears itching today? Branch manager cursing me or something?"
Blissfully unaware, Kim Jian was in for a headache soon enough.