The One-Man Army
"Huff! Huff!"
"Hah! Hah!"
Rebel mecha forces surged forward as if to overwhelm the allies completely. The ragged breathing of the surviving pilots grew rough as the sight dragged up memories of their previous defeat.
There's so many of them.
Way more than us…
Can we even fight like this?
Just as the sheer disparity in numbers began to kindle real fear—
—Oroororororo~~~!—
A bizarre voice crackled across the allied communications frequency. And right before every pair of eyes, Jincheon's Gareld streaked out alone toward the enemy, trailing long crimson afterimages.
There was not a shred of tension in the battle cry—more like a man heading out for a casual stroll.
Then they remembered what Jincheon had called them: "losers."
The memory of that deliberately grating insult rose up. If they flinched here, they would prove him right and become exactly the losers he had named them. The anger blooming in their chests swallowed the fear whole.
"The Riu Knights are deploying!"
"For Viscount Fonwell!"
Fired up by the sight of Jincheon taking the lead, the pilots shot forward toward the enemy mechas despite nearly a two-to-one disadvantage in strength.
The awakening effect the upper ranks had hoped for was beginning to take hold.
—Jincheon! Our allies are moving!—
"I spoon-fed them the whole meal. It'd be a problem if they still didn't move. First things first—I need to thin out their numbers."
Having confirmed from Heliane that the allies were finally in motion, Jincheon judged that the only way to tip the battle in their favor was to slash the enemy mecha count as hard as possible.
The classic winning formula in this kind of war was simple: friendly mechas latched onto enemy ships and carved them apart while the capital ships pounded the opposing fleet with main guns. The problem was that the enemy intended to run exactly that same formula, so he needed to cut their numbers down first.
Pew-pew-pew-ping!
At that moment the enemies—who had already been briefed on the red Gareld—halted, formed a fire net, and opened up with predictive fire.
"Not going to let me close easily, huh. Interesting."
They had been warned that if a surprise attack came here, the red Gareld might appear. Had they been short on information they might have charged in on pure competitive fire, but every one of them had watched the black-box footage of this machine single-handedly dismantling their forces like a cat toying with mice. Their absolute refusal to give him distance was plain.
Jincheon weaved through the laser net while leveling his lance gun and answering with laser fire of his own.
Crack-crack-crack!
But these enemies had come prepared as well. They raised shields layered with anti-laser barriers and simply tanked his shots.
Feels like pounding on a wall.
The defensive wall formed by their interlocking shields was rock-solid.
But that's exactly why punching through it is what earns you the title of one-man army!
"Hrrraaah!"
With a roar Jincheon braced against the crushing gravity through pure Inner Qi and rocketed forward at triple speed.
Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-ping!
Laser nets stitched the space after him, yet he spat thrusters and snapped the machine through sharp Z-shaped cuts, slipping every beam.
"If lasers won't cut it, then solid shot it is!"
BOOM!
Even after entering effective laser range he held fire, then loosed the rail cannon mid-high-maneuver.
BOOM!
The targeted enemy mecha staggered hard as its anti-laser barrier shield and shoulder armor took the hit together, then barely recovered its posture.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
In the same breath the red Gareld—aimed by nothing but Jincheon's naked senses—hammered shot after shot into the mechas clustered along his flight path, punching a temporary hole in the fire net.
WHOOOOOSH!
He stomped the engines to absolute maximum, the over-boost kicking in for a heartbeat of nearly quadruple speed, and dove straight into that gap.
"You dumb bastards! If you hadn't thought this crap could stop me, you wouldn't have gotten bye-bye'd!"
Spitting a faintly remembered twenty-first-century slang term, Jincheon raised the gatling shield and lance gun.
Pew! Peeew!
THUDUDUDUDUDUDUDU—
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Lance-gun lasers and gatling-shield streams tore fresh holes through the enemy formation. Every attack pouring in from front, rear, left, and right he slipped by spiraling and spinning the machine.
"I'm in!"
The instant he closed to point-blank range, the enemy had no choice but to be toyed with by his speed. Jincheon never cut the engines; he only stacked acceleration on acceleration, whipping through their ranks at insane velocity.
CRUNCH! Peeew!
The first mecha that lunged into close combat he skewered with the lance, then fired the laser that ran down the weapon's core straight through the tip, detonating one unit. He kicked off the wreckage, spun his body while sliding rearward, and a laser meant for the red Gareld hissed past his back by a hair.
He shot straight at the pilot who had fired that shot, kicked the cockpit free, and hosed the exposed cockpit with the gatling shield.
THUDUDUDUDUDUK!
Pinpoint rounds turned the pilot into a spray of meat fragments. Yet Jincheon never stopped; he continued to carve through the enemy ranks in every direction at once.
"Impressive."
"Confirming was the right call. With the new equipment his firepower is several times what our earlier analysis predicted."
"How the hell does he keep that speed and still land every single shot?"
Nine mechas waited aboard the rebel carrier, pilots already strapped in. They were the team assembled specifically to hunt the red Gareld—Jincheon.
Count Sherdon had judged Jincheon would become a major obstacle and had gathered these men, training them for the chance to eliminate him here. They should have sortied with the main force, yet the Gareld carried far more armament than the known data suggested, so they held back for intelligence gathering and analysis.
"Hit rate ninety-one point three percent. That includes the gatling fire."
The intellectual-looking man whose optic nerves and part of his brain had been cybernetically enhanced could not hide his shock at the red Gareld turning allied machines into fireworks.
"Zero effective hits taken. A few grazes, but not a single attack that actually damaged the mecha or its weapons."
"A monster."
The thick-featured man clicked his tongue at the report.
"What the hell are we doing right now? Can't you see our side collapsing?!"
A handsome young man finally snapped, voice sharp with frustration. Levin Poltein. When the Empress Dowager's party had broken the encirclement he had arrived as reinforcements only to watch the commander who had been like a mentor to him die at Jincheon's hands; he had sworn revenge ever since. His hatred for Jincheon burned so hot that the moment he heard a dedicated team was being formed against the red Gareld he had volunteered on the spot.
"Hey, kid. Our target is the red Gareld. Don't think about anything else."
Another pilot answered Poltein. A clear veteran, his body mapped with old scars.
"So we're supposed to fight the red Gareld while our own side is already losing? Brilliant strategy! I'm sure the enemy will be so impressed they'll welcome us with a hail of bullets!"
"You little shit, who do you think you're—"
"Both of you, enough."
As Poltein's thirst for revenge threatened to boil over, the response team's leader reined them in with a heavy voice.
"Levin Poltein, was it?"
"…Yes."
"The red Gareld has armament and specs that don't match the prior intel. You already know that better than anyone—you've faced it yourself."
"…That's true."
He hated admitting it, but the current red Gareld outperformed the earlier version. It had been a monster before; now, with higher reaction limits and improved airframe performance, the monster had simply grown larger.
"If we had stuck to the original plan we would all be dead by now. When the enemy gets stronger, we prepare accordingly."
"So we just retreat like this?"
"No. We revise the tactics. That's why we're collecting and analyzing data right now. If you can't stand watching comrades die and charge in immediately, you'll only become his next meal."
"……"
"If you want him dead, endure it for now."
"…Understood."
Poltein drew a deep breath and nodded, grasping the thick-featured man's meaning.
Meanwhile the intellectual pilot finished analyzing the Gareld's firework-show rampage and gave a short nod.
"Analysis complete. Large portions of the countermeasures we trained will have to be discarded or rewritten, so I'll direct from the rear."
"Got it. All units, launch!"
At the thick-featured man's order the nine waiting mechas began to sortie from the carrier.
—Hey.
"What."
The scarred knight who had called Poltein "kid" opened a private channel.
—Watch carefully why that man is called Ace Killer Hanbes. Every hotshot ace who ran wild without knowing better ended up dead by his hand.
Hanbes—the man who had culled enemy ace pilots across countless battlefields, earned the recognition, and been given command of the red-Gareld response team. The Ace Killer himself now set his sights on Jincheon and moved out.
"Bye-bye!"
KA-BOOM!
Jincheon put rail-cannon rounds straight through the heads of the mechas trying to counterattack. With their main cameras gone, sections of their primary monitors went dark; the second rail-cannon shot punched their cockpits and they went limp.
"That's thirty-six!"
Thirty-six mechas destroyed by one man. Even with superior numbers the enemy's morale sagged and they hesitated, while the allies pressed the attack with renewed ferocity.
Pew-pew-pew-ping!
Heliane's Saisalas, its beam guns upgraded, carved into the enemy formation and sprayed fire in every direction.
WHOOSH!
Any unit that tried to hit her was sniped by Calsira, who hung back with a sniper package and herded the attackers into the Saisalas's frontal arc.
—Thanks!—
=No problem! Just charge ahead and trust me, Unnie!=
Using the martial-arts power Jincheon had taught her, Calsira's concentration had sharpened to the point of one-shot, one-kill precision. She was completely in the zone, sniping every danger point and repeatedly preventing the battle from tipping against them.
Killing intent!
Sensing murderous intent aimed at herself, Calsira began evasive maneuvers even before the high-energy warning lit, slipping the fire net that came for her.
They say snipers make easy enemies. Guess that's why the killing intent is so easy to feel.
Calsira was awakening to a new sense and honing it in real combat. With the two women's exploits expanding the allies' achievements, Jincheon's own target shifted to the enemy ships.
Ship-to-ship gunnery is still even. But we're outnumbered—if this drags on we lose.
The surprise attack had wrecked parts of the enemy fleet or left deep scars, yet the enemy was answering in kind and the allies' lightly armored destroyers were already exploding.
Then I'll change the whole damn board myself!
Competitive fire that had been dead for centuries back in the Murim days now blazed hot again. Jincheon peeled away from the mecha dogfight and charged the enemy fleet alone, determined to make the entire galaxy call him the Crimson Comet.
Until now I lacked the firepower to kill anything cruiser-class or bigger. Now I've got enough!
Carve the armor open with the Anti-Ship Sword, then widen the wound further or pour lance-gun and rail-cannon fire into the gash—even a battleship plated in thick armor could be finished that way.
"I'm heading for the enemy fleet! This sector's yours!"
—What? Alone is too dangerous!—
=Jincheon-nim is strong, but that's suicide! They still have escort units!=
Near the enemy fleet that held the mecha advantage, twenty to thirty escort mechas still waited.
"Then you two follow right behind me! Leave the rest to the alli—ngh!"
Charging toward the enemy fleet, Jincheon felt killing intent and dropped the machine hard.
WHOOSH-CRACK!
Cluster munitions detonated exactly where he had been. Having already ducked low, he slipped the burst and lifted his gaze upward.
"…Elites."
Even through the mecha frames he could feel the iron military discipline of true crack troops. Nine mechas barred his path. For the first time Jincheon's face hardened with genuine tension.