Clash with the Unmanned Watchdog
Thud, thud!! The transport fleet kept its distance from the battlefield, watching the clash between the unidentified weapon and Rabe. From the research complex, a roar shook the entire mountain range.
-[What the hell is that...?]
Someone from the transport crew muttered it. The shock wasn't incomprehensible. To them, the raw emotion in Rabe's Nexus movements was nothing short of a culture shock.
Transport captain Dickens watched the scene and murmured to himself.
"Hermann said he specially took her in, but isn't that just a lunatic?"
He hadn't even seen her face, but the rude thought slipped out anyway. A Nexus charging like a rabid dog, tearing into the enemy without regard for its own body. Nexus pilots didn't have two or three lives. Especially with neural links feeding damage straight back to the pilot—close-range tactics like that were unheard of. The mainstream in Nexus combat was, naturally, long-range engagements. Everyone instinctively feared wounds to their own body.
But that pilot... doesn't value her life at all?
While marveling at Hermann's uncanny eye for talent, an ominous feeling crept in. At a glance, she reminded him of those seafaring berserkers from old northern Europe, high on drugs in battle. Was her mental state even normal? Among close-range maneuvers, hers was extreme—aggressively so. Charging straight ahead as if there was no retreat. Could even Hermann keep harboring a maniac like that?
-[Our friendly Nexus is pressing hard, Captain! Enemy taking damage!]
-[Kill it!! That monster that devoured our comrades!!]
Still, he couldn't complain right now. Even Dickens felt a secret thrill watching the Nexus pummel the enemy. How many comrades had that thing shredded from their fleet? It had to be a ruthless Watchdog crafted by those vile corporates. Whatever the case, the mad pilot was helping them.
"Hermann will handle it just fine."
Hearing the crew's jubilant voices, Dickens set aside his worries about how long Hermann could hold that leash—for now.
Beep—
My vision flushed red. Blood tears were nothing special anymore. Sprinting straight down the trail, I'd taken the enemy's bullets head-on, and the full-speed body slam had dropped my chassis integrity below 30%. But in return, the enemy stiffened for a moment.
Thwack!
Seizing the gap, I hurriedly restored my depleted energy while slamming a hand cannon's large-caliber round into it. Before it could recover and pull away, I rammed again for another stun.
Kaboom!
Twelve missiles detonated point-blank, and I emptied the hand cannon's magazine. The barrage dropped the enemy's durability from a shaky 80% to under 30% in seconds.
Almost there.
Pop!
As it recovered its systems and tried to burst away—
Thud!
Already embedded in a building, it couldn't maneuver like it could outside—blocked by obstacles. Not counterattacking immediately was its fatal mistake.
"You should've charged me instead!"
I shouted, unloading the reloaded hand cannon and—
Thud!
—executing a final horn charge.
"Urk...!"
My head buzzed, stomach churning. My chassis was down to under 10% now. But it was worth it.
Whirr—
Boom!
The enemy's generator went critical, spewing blue sparks before exploding spectacularly. I backed off, escaping the blast.
"Hah, hah."
Panting, I stared at the wrecked enemy. Then—
It twitched.
A grin tugged at my lips.
"I win..."
God, it was so fun.
> Combat data secured.
> Comparison with existing RABE data: extreme discrepancy detected. Pilot change confirmed.
> Accident pattern ID unidentifiable even at maximum error tolerance. Recalculating rank.
> Calculating...
> Variable risk: S-Rank. Prepare future management protocols.
> Prioritize assimilation. If failed, eliminate via all available means at utmost priority.
> Transmission end.
> VANGUARD N302 activity suspended.
With adrenaline still pumping, I maneuvered the Nexus toward the wreckage. What kind of pilot could handle that insane speed? Had the corporates brewed up some super soldier serum?
I gripped and pried off the chest armor where the cockpit should be.
"...?"
No cockpit. Just to check, I tore off the head.
Nothing here either.
Packed with machinery. I kept dismantling, refusing to give up on finding the pilot. Wires trailed from parts, the scrap heap's guts emptying out. But no pilot, not even a cockpit.
"What the...?"
Incredibly, this thing was unmanned. My preconceptions shattered.
Is the Metal Frame world I knew slightly different? What the hell?
No, something's off. That movement—what about those eerily human, irrational maneuvers...?
As confusion swirled, a comm from the transport fleet—which had already left the complex—came through.
"...".
My overheated body cooled. Adrenaline fading. Feeling on the verge of collapse, I moved to rendezvous with the fleet.
After directing the Hive unload, transport captain Dickens headed to the landing pad. He'd thought her a maniac—rude, sure—but the Nexus pilot had protected them. Owing Hermann, he'd see her often. A proper greeting and thanks were only polite.
Dickens recalled the Nexus's movements. So... barbaric? Savage? Macho? Whatever—brain structure must match. Picturing a burly brute, he arrived.
Hermann was exiting the mobile hangar, oddly towing a wheelchair. And sitting in it was...
"...Huh?"
A little girl. He blinked repeatedly, wondering if he'd misseen. Maybe just a timely kid unrelated. But her pilot suit, thick restraints on arms and neck like shackles. Her eerie aura screamed Nexus pilot.
That girl was their Nexus pilot.
"??"
Brain said yes, but the image didn't match. That frail girl, who could barely hold herself up, let alone walk—the one rampaging like a mad beast?
Dickens just gawked, eyes wide.
The world's gone mad while I was away.
The bizarre mismatch spread through Nest as talk of Hermann's special pilot.
My first real fight—separating from the Nexus knocked me out as expected. But prepared, I detached en route and woke by arrival. Couldn't move a finger, but better than comatose. Routine now.
Two days' rest, and I could walk. Body felt like hell. Even with aids, this wreck. Paying for abusing fragile flesh.
Now, post-battle report at Hermann's office.
Tap, clack.
Hermann typed at his monitor. I watched, then spoke.
"Hermann, I pried open the unidentified weapon's cockpit."
"Oh? I see. What'd you find?"
"Nothing. Weirdly."
"Yeah. Weird, huh."
He's hooked—won't spill without prodding. Plus, I discovered it.
Build-up enough, I asked.
"Hermann, what was that thing? Why was it guarding the Hive?"
"...".
Hermann finally looked from the monitor to me.