Sebastian didn't recognize the first team that rushed towards the Astra Militarum. It wasn't because of any tactical intent on their part; it was simply that their position happened to be closer to the Astra Militarum's current location. Although Sebastian had gained some recognition lately, it was still limited mostly to the Federation's competitive circuit.
Some players discussed his performance, but for most, he was just another name in the rankings, not worth studying in detail. For someone aiming to advance into the elimination rounds, Sebastian was considered only a mid-tier contender, ranked in the middle of the pack. Naturally, most opponents hadn't bothered to research his tactics in advance.
This was the case with the Supernatural team, now charging toward him. They were ranked somewhere in the top 500,000, competent but far from elite, and they saw the Astra Militarum as an easy target, like a fat sheep ready for the slaughter.
"Mandela?" Sebastian had spent the last three days gathering intel. Prokopy, Clifford, and the others had also sent him detailed data on the other contenders in this group.
When tens of thousands of massive black snakes surged across the terrain, Sebastian instantly recognized them. The Mandelas were a rare high-tier civilization: each serpent over thirty meters long, jet-black in color, with incredible muscle strength and potent venom.
They were not ordinary pythons; they were engineered war-beasts. The Mandelas advanced in disciplined formation, their dark-scaled bodies weaving rapidly across the battlefield. Their commander clearly understood the threat of the Astra Militarum's long-range firepower, and ordered an encirclement from multiple vectors to overwhelm their defenses.
"Crush the incoming enemy." Lando gave the order without hesitation.
The Typhoon fighters were already prepped for attack. At his command, 50 broke formation and accelerated forward, while the remaining held in reserve to respond to unforeseen threats.
Overhead, 50 armed UAVs took up support positions. These drones weren't heavy strike craft; their primary role was interception and screening, using reinforced armor plating to block anti-air attacks aimed at the fighters.
On the ground, 50,000 Guardsmen and 300 Giant Kongs moved into defensive positions. The Guardsmen manned their armored vehicles, laying down suppressive fire, while the Kong formed a living wall around the perimeter, the first line against a ground breakthrough.
One Kong beat its chest and roared, eager to charge the enemy, but without orders from Lando or Coleman, none of them broke formation. Against this many, the combination of Typhoon fighters and drone escorts was more than enough to inflict heavy losses before they reached close range.
When they reached the target, all their Machine Guns roared to life at once.
"BRRRT-BRRRT-BRRRRT!"
A sharp, rattling roar splits the sky like a chainsaw tearing through steel.
"RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!"
The pod hammers out a stream of fire, each burst slicing through the air with a feral growl. Shell casings clink and spin away, vanishing into the jet stream as the gun chews through belts of ammunition.
HEIAP rounds tore into the advancing serpents. While their scales could deflect small-caliber fire, they were no match for sustained high-velocity penetrators. With each impact, explosions shredded muscle and scale alike.
"BRAAAAAAAP!"
A single, thunderous belch as the pod unloads a final salvo before cutting off with a smoky hiss.
In less than a minute, thousands of the enemy lay dead or dying.
The opposing player's eyes went wide. She had assumed the Astra Militarum was an under-equipped soft target; instead, she had stumbled into a fully prepared defensive formation.
"Withdraw! Fall back, now!" she shouted, ordering the remaining Mandela to retreat.
The Astra Militarum didn't pursue. This wasn't a deathmatch; destroying the enemy would yield no point, and in a relatively small combat zone, overextending could invite a sudden ambush from another team. Better to hold position and pick off weaker, isolated targets. They shifted formation, relocating to a terrain feature that offered both cover and firing lines, then dug in again.
From the observation point, Clifford and the others watching the feed exhaled in relief.
"Sebastian has far more air units than before. That's a serious force multiplier," Jane noted, eyes fixed on the fighters' tight formations overhead.
"During the exchange match, he had maybe 30 of them; now he's fielding over a hundred," Terrell observed. "No wonder he punched through the group stage. These crafts must be easier to maintain than I thought."
Clifford and Otwin both nodded. Normally, the higher the level of a Supernatural species, the harder it was to create and sustain, with low reproduction rates making a large group impractical. Yet Sebastian's pilots, by every measure, elite units, were present in force, suggesting a much more efficient production method.
"Sebastian won't be finishing at the bottom of this group, that's for sure," Clifford said with a confident smile.
Across the arena, another team was locked in an all-out brawl, their massive beasts clashing in brutal melee. The roars of the creatures drowned out the crowd's shouts, but the spectators only grew louder, feeding off the chaos.
Clifford and the others leaned forward, the tension pulling them into the fight as if they were right there on the battlefield.
"Roar, roar, roar..."
Around the Astra Militarum, two other teams were locked in vicious combat, their battles raging just beyond the defensive perimeter. What was surprising was that these two teams were both of the same species; they were both huge Blood Striped Tigers.
Sebastian instantly recognized them. Moments later, he raised his eyebrows; he knew exactly where these two teams came from: the same power, yet bitter enemies. Now, they unexpectedly ended up in the same group. They didn't hesitate and fought fiercely.
Meanwhile, their clash drew the attention of the Astra Militarum stationed nearby. The Astra Militarum didn't discriminate; any species entering their guard line was a target. Thus, as the Blood Striped Tigers battled each other, weaponry erupted. A single armor-piercing explosive shell blazed toward one Blood Striped Tiger. The Blood Striped Tiger's defense wasn't elite, certainly not like the Steel Tusked Pig.
Within this conflict, the Astra Militarum had already proven itself as the strongest force encountered so far. The HEIAP rounds pierced the Blood Striped Tiger's body, detonating inside and inflicting grievous harm.
Another group of Blood Striped Tigers charged in, but they were swiftly degraded. In an instant, the team of over 50,000 Blood Striped Tigers lost more than 5,000 under combined fire. Escape was also near impossible!
Minutes later, the player behind that team had no choice but to quit.
"Damn it!" The player slammed the table. "You're lucky, I'd've killed you otherwise, you bastard!"
"Thanks a lot, my friend," Came a voice in Sebastian's ear.
The elimination rounds followed group-stage rules. The Planetary Lords behind each Supernatural team could communicate with each other. Sebastian remained silent; this wasn't camaraderie. That Blood Striped Tiger team had simply crossed into the Astra Militarum's zone. And, like clockwork, the Astra Militarum defended itself.
"Friend," a hesitant voice said, "How about we join forces? With our strength, maybe we can last longer."
"No need. I'm fine on my own," Sebastian replied neutrally. Team up with a stranger? No thanks. When push came to shove, you couldn't trust anyone else. Moreover, the Astra Militarum didn't rely on allies.
Frowning slightly, the other player gave no reply, just retreated with his Blood Striped Tigers while the Astra Militarum held its ground.
Soon after, another team emerged, an enormous army of over 200,000 Gold Devouring Rats.
"This is Gold Devouring Rats," Sebastian noted. Known for astounding reproductive rates, sharp, almost unbreakable teeth, and speed. Their numbers were their greatest advantage. But unfortunately for them, they faced a squadron of aerial fighters. Their defense was poor, far worse than even that of the prior Mandela force.
As fighter jets roared through, front-line rats exploded, blown to pieces by numerous rounds, and thousands died within moments. The survivors, terrified, halted their advance.
"Retreat!" the Planetary Lord commanding the rats ordered. Withdrawing immediately, they escaped.
There was no chase from the Astra Militarum, for this was an elimination tournament, not total annihilation. As long as you reach the top three, you're safe. There's no need to wipe out everyone. Still, other Supernatural Mortal teams also mirrored the Astra Militarum's defensive approach; they remained passive.
In the Planetary world, there's a saying: offense is the best defense. Many built high-offense races, but true versatility was rare. Planetary Lords tailored species to their homeworlds; no single team could excel in every domain.
Multiple consecutive Supernatural teams tried charging the Astra Militarum and met their end. Others knew better, recognizing the Astra Militarum wasn't to be trifled with; they stayed cautious.
Explosions echoed across the arena, irrelevant to the Astra Militarum. Nearby, Giant Kongs watched, unable to intervene. Gradually, the field shrank, mirroring the group-stage setup, and players were systematically eliminated.
Many teams knew they couldn't stand alone. Alliances, sometimes forged early or between co-origin teams, helped eliminate weaker opponents, narrowing down the tournament field.