Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Desperate Chase
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“Aaahhh, I’m running out of energy, aaah—!”
“I’m gonna die, gonna die, gonna die—!”
“Abusing the mech, mech, mech, mech—!!”
Gavin finally lost his patience. “Shut up!”
The Gryphon bounced and hopped between skyscrapers, zigzagging wildly to dodge the hail of bullets raining down from behind. It looked utterly ridiculous. Inside the Bi’an, Heinrich remained solemn, but the Ninth Fleet’s internal channel was roaring with laughter.
“Total energy’s only enough for one giant energy cannon shot! Can’t fly! Aaah, my rear armor’s wrecked too!” As it fled, the Gryphon scanned its shell damage and wailed in heartbreak. “Those Ninth Fleet bastards—when we get back, I’ll have General Aaron drill them good—!”
To capture the pilot alive, the emperor had spared no expense. Mechs and fighters swarmed in a ring, closing in, while countless lasers fired like a storm of arrows. Poor little Gryphon was down to just twenty-two percent energy—if the emperor hadn’t explicitly ordered capture alive, it would’ve been melted into a pile of five-dimensional alloy scraps by the barrage by now.
Even so, it had given the troops plenty of comic relief. Every time it hopped clumsily over a building like a startled rabbit, pilots snapped photos amid fits of manic laughter.
“We’ve run over a thousand kilometers already! I can’t take it! Aaaah, think of something quick—!”
“There’s no way out!” Gavin roared. “Unless you blast Heinrich with one shot! Can you?!”
“I can! I can! Let me turn the cannon around!”
Gavin: “...”
Gryphon: “...”
“So you just don’t want to kill him—!” Five seconds later, the Gryphon’s scream pierced the night sky. “Does having slept with him really make that much difference—?!”
“Who’s that pilot?” someone asked on the Ninth Fleet’s public channel. “Acts like a total clown. How long’s this chase been going?”
“No choice—His Majesty wants him alive... Second Squad! Second Squad, flank from the right! Giant energy cannons at converging angles, prepare!”
“Hahahaha, it jumped again! Close call—photo, photo!”
No one saw the fleeing, hopping Gryphon as any real threat. Capturing it was just a matter of time. The pilots went from tense to relaxed, and finally burst into laughter, their voices merging into a sea of joy on the public channel.
In stark contrast, the high command channel was grim.
“One thousand two hundred kilometers,” Ninth Fleet Vice Commander Brandon reported. “Your Majesty, if you don’t let us fire directly at the Gryphon’s cockpit, they’re really going to escape.”
Heinrich stared at the forward screen, face stern and silent.
Everyone thought his live-capture order was to preserve the mech—only he knew a 3S mech wasn’t so easily destroyed. Even if just the core AI brain was left, it could be repaired.
His real reason for insisting on live capture was caution—he didn’t want to harm Gavin in the cockpit.
This scene wasn’t unfamiliar to the emperor. Fifty years ago, in the Ophiuchus Campaign, the Ninth Fleet annihilated the Radiant Legion, then pursued the battle-scarred Phoenix mech amid a sky of cannon fire. It had been just like this: Phoenix flying ahead, countless warships trailing behind, lasers weaving a magnificent tapestry in space like the Big Bang at the universe’s dawn.
And then?
Phoenix was inevitably hit. The Empire claimed a glorious victory.
Then Celia died.
That moment haunted Heinrich like a nightmare, tormenting him for half a century. He’d wondered if he could go back in time, would he still lead the pursuit? The answer was yes—as emperor, some things had no choice. But the agony and despair? He’d rather die than relive it.
“Order all units: no attacks on the enemy cockpit... I want him alive.” After a long silence, Heinrich finally said coldly. “Primary objective: capture the enemy pilot alive.”
The commanders exchanged stunned glances from their cockpits.
“But Your Majesty, he’s been running forever. The enemy pilot’s skills are...”
“Y-Yes, their high mobility makes it so hard to hit the energy core without damaging the cockpit—”
Even the vice commander hesitated. “The Gryphon’s cockpit is extremely sturdy. If we calibrate the fire rate properly, it shouldn’t endanger the pilot’s life...?”
A flash of severity crossed Heinrich’s eyes.
The next second, the Bi’an surged forward, a black giant bird descending from the heavens, claws slashing at the Gryphon’s back!
“Melee combat!” the Gryphon roared. “They’re closing in! Watch your rear!”
Mech melee was familiar to all pilots—from military academy, all training was done in melee conditions. Mech grappling was basic basics.
But on a real battlefield with live ammo, mechs relied on neural links and firepower. Who would ditch weapons for hand-to-hand unless ammo was exhausted?
So the Gryphon froze for an instant. Until its back armor was clawed, nearly yanking the whole mech off the ground. Then the Bi’an slammed down, kicking the unbalanced Gryphon to its knees and reaching for the cockpit in its chest!
The storm of cannon fire halted abruptly. Mechs closed in. The Gryphon roared, grabbed the Bi’an with both arms, and hurled it back into the pursuing forces with all its strength!
The move overloaded the Gryphon’s arms—the elbows, wrists, and joints shrieked. The Bi’an crashed into a swath of mechs, and in the chaos, the Gryphon leaped free, breaking through the encirclement eastward!
The vice commander arrived in time, bellowing, “Grab it!”
Agile aerial fighters wheeled around—but the emperor stopped them instantly. The Bi’an lunged forward, far faster than the energy-starved Gryphon, blocking the crimson-gold giant in a blink.
“No use, Gavin!” Heinrich barked. “You’re out of energy!”
In the Gryphon’s cockpit, the energy bar had shifted from red to ominous purple. That Bi’an strike had dropped it below fifteen percent. Flickering purple light bathed the cabin as the mechanical voice droned: “Warning, warning. Recharge immediately or eject from the mech. Cockpit will be forcibly ejected... forcibly ejected...”
The Gryphon’s neural straps extended, gripping Gavin’s wrists tightly.
Gavin’s profile gleamed like carved jade in the shadows, eyes calm and icy. The display’s myriad lights danced in his dark pupils.
“Neural link at—eighty percent, ninety-five percent, one hundred twenty percent...”
“Two hundred sixty percent, three hundred seventy-two percent... four hundred percent!”
The skyrocketing gauge halted at a terrifying four hundred percent. In that instant, Gavin’s mind fully merged with the 3S mech—
The next second, the Gryphon struck, punching the Bi’an flying!
“Your Majesty!” In the Bi’an’s cockpit, neural straps swiftly righted Heinrich.
Though his mental sea cushioned the impact, the emperor’s temple struck the console. Blood smeared his hard, cold profile. “I’m fine. Status?”
“Gryphon’s neural link broke four hundred percent! Unprecedented data! We’re fighting Marshal Celia himself now!”
The Bi’an’s panic was justified. Higher links meant faster actions. At over one hundred percent, the mech moved before the pilot’s thought fully formed, skipping the command step.
That zero-point-something seconds could be life or death. Weapons evolved fast—giant energy shells that once took seven or eight seconds now vaporized foes in zero-point-six-two.
Breaking one hundred percent separated elite from top-tier pilots. In the Empire’s fifty-year history, the record was the emperor’s own: two hundred sixty-four percent. Back then, he’d felt he was the mech, flying freely in space, even brushing near the sun.
Four hundred percent?
Unheard of. Theoretically impossible.
Heinrich gritted his teeth, piloting the Bi’an to retreat at full speed. But the Gryphon was too fast—a crimson-gold lightning bolt, before the Bi’an in an eyeblink!
The Bi’an couldn’t even draw its twin blades before taking a smoke-belching haymaker. The steel titans’ fierce grapple forced fighters back; a few too slow got caught, exploding into fireworks with a casual swipe.
Fighter pilots bailed desperately on parachutes. Above them, the Gryphon bellowed, a sweeping kick sending the Bi’an flying!
“Your Majesty! Deploy the electromagnetic cannon!”
“No!” Heinrich snapped. “All power to shields!”
Mech logic couldn’t match human instinct. As the Bi’an arced to its peak, the Gryphon’s shoulder cannon spun out, muzzle glowing white, locked on target—
Cannon light lanced out like thunder, slamming the Bi’an. Shields erupted in a waterfall of sparks!
The Bi’an had to admire the emperor’s split-second call. That all-or-nothing shot drained the Gryphon’s last energy—matching with an electromagnetic cannon would’ve been mutual destruction.
The massive frame halted midair. The Bi’an rumbled, “What now, Your Majesty?”
On the ground, the Gryphon held its final pose. Its energy-eye glow flickered rapidly, visibly dimming. The cockpit was pitch black. Neural straps bit into Gavin’s wrists. Sweat dripped onto the console with his heaving breaths.
With energy left, his four-hundred-percent sync would’ve doomed the Bi’an.
—Too late now.
In the sky, the emperor gazed down. That look pierced the cockpit screen, carrying something almost tender. Wind howled between them as they stared across the distance—until the Bi’an slowly drew its twin blades, crossing them before it.
“Your Majesty...?” the Bi’an murmured.
Heinrich’s reply was to draw his blades and dive at Gavin on the ground!
One solid hit, and the blades’ gravitational slash alone would dismantle the Gryphon, pinning the cockpit under swarming fighters.
The cockpit had no weapons. Even with three heads and six arms, Gavin couldn’t fend off the horde—he’d be captured for sure.
In that moment, Gavin’s eyes held only the looming golden Bi’an and its arcing blades. Wind whistled closer. Just as the Gryphon faced annihilation—a muffled thunderclap boomed from the night sky behind the Bi’an—
Boom!
An interstellar nuke dropped from the heavens, blasting a huge swath of the Imperial fleet skyward.
The Bi’an whipped around, roar shaking the world: “—Who’s there!”
Fleets plummeted into the cloud sea, dotted with twinkling lights. Eagle emblems gleamed boldly on hulls under the glow.
Heinrich’s pupils shrank—Radiant Legion. The Radiant Legion, surviving purges since the Alliance’s fall!
Then coughs echoed on the open channel, followed by a lazy drawl:
“—Ladies and gentlemen, and dear pretty-boy Emperor Heinrich, good evening! I’m Radiant Legion acting commander Karyan. Long time no see—hope you’re well?”
Heinrich: “...”
Gavin: “...”
Ninth Fleet: “...”
Silence blanketed the ground. Then, rumbling shook the earth nearby. Flames erupted from below, rocketing into the clouds amid stunned gazes!
“Oh dear—Yunes, sir, your Dark Star Hall weapons depot buried on Shurong Star just blew,” Karyan scratched his head midair, innocently. “Now what’re we gonna do?”