The Watchdog's Flaw
Protocol activation—boom!Kaboom! Deafening explosions ripped through the air one after another. I poured every ounce of focus into chasing the enemy craft's silhouette, which vanished the instant I locked on.
Its specs aren't that different from mine. No, in terms of individual bursts, it's actually inferior. But...
The Watchdog felt... familiar, somehow. There was a difference in how it was operated.
It's like me.
It unleashed consecutive bursts without shredding the pilot's body, pushing the burden to its limits to dominate high-mobility dogfights. And with base specs that shattered the sound barrier in a single burst, its destructive power was even greater.
What kind of monster machine did they build?
The silver lining was that, thanks to its unique maneuverability, it always maintained a certain distance even when circling me relentlessly.
Behind!
And the incoming projectiles didn't speed up to match. Thinking about it, this wasn't much different from fighting those drones. The armament's firepower hadn't changed either.
It's ridiculous that one Nexus can mimic fighting multiple foes...
Still. I could take it. That was my conclusion.
Beeeep—beeeep—
At first, I didn't dare counterattack, focusing solely on evasion. But gradually, I started grasping the enemy's weaknesses.
> Enemy targeting system can't keep up with its own mobility.
As Linne analyzed, there was a slight mismatch between its attacks and maneuvers. The gun barrel would still point in the old direction long after I'd moved, or it would aim at where I'd been seconds ago.
The system's response time is sluggish.
And to compensate, despite mobility far surpassing standard Nexus units, it kept circling at a fixed distance. In short, it wasn't fully utilizing that insane agility.
Once I clocked that, instinct kicked in—like a matador feinting a bull. I mixed fakes into my maneuvers: climb, dive, burst...
Pop, bang!!
Catching it is impossible.
Even so, the enemy's mobility held an overwhelming edge. The absolute distance gap wouldn't close easily. Occasionally grazing it with a few shots or dodging its fire—that was it. Those hits didn't seem to faze it much.
Is this turning into a war of attrition?
If so, I'd lose inevitably. I narrowed my eyes, tracking its trajectory, when a voice crackled over the comms.
—"Good... moves. I've definitely seen that before."
Breathless. Seen what? My movements? What a joke.
Adam never saw me as a pilot.
He'd shown weakness around me because he viewed me as just a kid. I knew that. He'd deliberately ignored everything else.
—"You're strong, Rabe..."
Objectively, this thing had a different perspective from the real Adam, and unlike Mastema, it hadn't died piloting a Fallen Angel—so it was a fake, a knockoff. But in that moment, I saw Adam in its words.
A surge of intense disgust welled up from deep inside.
"Trying to fool people with some sloppy kindergarten clay craft? Naughty."
—"Even what's right in front of you... you deny it, Rabe...?"
"Think what you want."
The key was, this disgust stemmed from it not being human. Mimicking Adam to insult me? Surprisingly—or maybe predictably—that didn't faze me.
This disgust is...
Maybe because it saw me as human enough to care about such things. In that sense, screw Adam's pride—I wanted to tear this knockoff apart right here.
With that resolve, my movements grew bolder. I slipped laser fire through my limbs by a hair's breadth, charging straight at the enemy.
It was acrobatics, really. Unnecessary in normal fights. Even with a payoff, it was high-risk—something you never did on the battlefield. The cost of risk was death.
But this wasn't normal. I overloaded my brain, pouring every nerve into annihilating it. Sweat soaked my body.
—"You're strong... Rabe... You have power."
The fake Adam droned on in its sluggish tone amid the barrage.
—"With power, what will you use it for...?"
> Rabe, focus on eliminating the enemy. No need to get heated.
Don't worry.
Disgust boiled, but I was enjoying the fight itself. I wouldn't get swallowed up.
> ...Rabe, you've already been swallowed. Combat isn't for enjoyment...
Linne's oddly sorrowful mutter got buried in the fake Adam's distinctive voice.
—"Money, power, or some grand cause to lead humanity...?"
"You're thinking in such... predictable ways."
Predictable was boring. A chain that bound people.
'Normal' is just relative. I don't have that.
"None of that."
—......
Not for piloting Nexus. Not because Nexus was the point—empty words like that. Adam himself had said it.
Gabriel too, maybe.
I'd heard it from several people. Piloting Nexus couldn't be a goal. Couldn't be a reason to live.
"Don't... need that crap..."
I gripped the controls, maxing out the frame's mobility. Mid-standard model, but...
Missiles are a no-go.
I dumped the shoulder armaments. In this absurd speed dogfight, without luck, they couldn't land meaningful hits or restrict movement.
Can I even restrict its mobility?
One burst took it way out of missile range. Dumping weight was the right call. All that was left was the instant-reaction shotgun.
This would do. Flames and plasma lit up the sky.
> Rabe, use terrain features...
With that mobility, pointless. Gotta clash head-on.
> Reckless.
Most realistic option here.
Info flooded my mind like a waterfall. Low altitude meant mostly trees and rocks on the ground. Strangely, my head didn't hurt much. The bandage on my right eye was damp, but that was expected feedback.
Thanks to Fallen Angel experience?
The machine that sent the ghost before me. I'd killed ghosts twice now.
Flash—
As I pushed my body to the limit, the auxiliary devices dangling from me activated, glowing. Vision narrowed. Electronic drugs surged through the cables.
—"Rabe, you..."
The enemy started taking damage. But downing it was still distant.
—"Like a beast with no rear."
Insult? Didn't matter.
—"Dangerous. A dangerous one, indeed."
I needed that one decisive blow. Head-on clashes alone wouldn't cut it—I knew there was no realistic win condition.
Armor melted, damaging the frame. I gripped the controls, racking my brain. Had to be a way.
Combination...
Suddenly, an obvious principle hit me. If it could combine, it could separate. There had to be a reverse protocol.
Maybe...
Not originally one unit, so separable. Counter its strength—boosters enabling drone-surpassing mobility—with that.
But how?
> Rabe, there's a way.
Then Linne advised in my head. I'd ignored her useless chatter before, but now I listened.
> Analyze the combination signal pattern and mimic it to fool the enemy.
"......"
Vague. But suddenly, an idea flashed like a shooting star.
"Hermann."
—"Here."
"The sky signal from the radio telescope observation—did you record the pattern?"
—"Why would I...
"Transmit it."
—"Rabe..."
Hermann's voice turned urgent.
—"Your frame's systems are overloaded from combat stress. Sending more data could..."
"I can handle it."
One wipeout? I could take two. He knew words wouldn't sway me. For form's sake, he tried once more.
—"The instant it's sent... data overflow could crash your main system. I don't even know what you'd do with it, but..."
"Just thought of it, but there's potential. Using the hacking module."
—"...That means..."
He caught on. Still reluctant, he grumbled, then I heard him issuing orders off-comms.
—"Coming soon, Rabe."
Data started incoming.
—"Be careful."