"What are you doing? Why didn't you activate the wing thrusters to reduce the impact of your landing? Why make such a dramatic entrance? Do you think anyone besides the local defense forces is watching you?
Do you know how much damage you caused with this landing? How much the direct economic loss is? Do you realize how much post-war reconstruction is going to cost?"
Fargo, the pilot currently lying in the cockpit of his mech, directly controlling it through a neural link, couldn't help but smile bitterly as the reprimand echoed through the communication line.
He had indeed wanted to follow the orders and use the wing thrusters to reduce the landing's impact and minimize the damage to the surrounding buildings. However, just as he was about to land, he felt a terrifying aura. It was a chilling sensation, as if there was a mutant beast nearby capable of crushing him with ease.
This overwhelming feeling caused his mind to falter for just a moment. That brief distraction made him miss the best opportunity to reduce the impact, leading to extensive damage to the city and even causing minor damage to his mech. Thankfully, the mech had already automatically repaired itself.
"If you don't want to face punishment, then show me everything you've got. Use Dawn to kill this Laser Dragon Turtle in front of you. This mutant beast has already destroyed three of our cities. We can't allow it to continue."
"Three cities? I'll do everything I can to kill it."
Upon hearing the devastation and casualties caused by the creature, Fargo responded calmly, but the look in his eyes as he stared at the Dragon Turtle changed entirely.
Roar! The Laser Dragon Turtle glared at the mech in front of it and let out an angry roar. It remembered that in its youth, its parents were cruelly killed by similar machines, which made it harbor a deep hatred for these small humans.
It swung its massive, snake-like tail forward. The tail's tip opened like a flower, aiming directly at the mech, and a violent surge of energy rippled outward. Without giving the mech a chance to react, a blazing beam of white light shot out straight toward it.
Boom! Dawn, coated primarily in golden paint, extended its arm, and a glowing energy shield immediately materialized. The shield blocked the laser beam, but the force behind the attack still pushed the massive mech backward.
Roar! Furious that its attack had been blocked, the Dragon Turtle let out another enraged roar. Its long tail swelled up again, this time emitting a thicker, darker laser beam.
"I'm not here to be a target!" Fargo grunted. He controlled his mech to nimbly roll aside, dodging the attack instead of bracing for impact. Without Dawn in its way, the laser beam tore through more than ten buildings before disappearing into the sky.
Fargo didn't pay attention to the destruction; the city's residents had already been evacuated. In a world overrun by mutant beasts, every surviving person had become adept at emergency evacuations.
Fargo moved the Dawn mech as easily as he would his own body, propelling it forward with thruster flames as it darted toward the Dragon Turtle. Drawing the massive sword from its back, Fargo slashed at the beast's head, which hadn't yet withdrawn.
Clang! The ship-cutting sword, capable of easily tearing through steel, struck the Dragon Turtle's head armor, producing a sharp metallic clang. It only left a shallow scratch on the creature's head, with a faint trickle of blood seeping out.
"That's one tough head!" Fargo muttered in frustration as he assessed the results of his attack. No wonder it was called a Dragon Turtle—its defense was truly extraordinary. It wasn't surprising that it had survived after destroying three cities and was still standing.
"Looks like a quick battle is impossible. This will have to be a war of attrition," Fargo thought as he calmed his mind, realizing the beast's defensive capabilities. Fortunately, he was fighting on home turf.
"The only question is how many buildings will be destroyed in the process. Looks like I'll be getting another scolding from the commander once this is over."
Boom! The Dragon Turtle's massive tail slammed into the spot where Dawn had just stood, shattering the reinforced concrete ground and creating a deep pit. Dawn, however, had already moved away.
Even though his mech was built of steel and bone, it was unwise to engage a mutant beast in a direct contest of strength. After all, only a few mechs had ever been built to match the raw power of these creatures.
What Fargo expected to be a days-long battle had barely lasted half an hour when a woman's scream pierced the war-torn battlefield.
Fargo glanced down through his mech's eyes, which were connected directly to his neural system. He saw, amid the rubble of a collapsed building, a mother clutching her child. Her face was filled with terror, but her eyes glimmered with hope as she gazed up at Dawn. In all the propaganda, these hunting mechs were portrayed as the protectors of the people. As long as they were around, there was no need to fear the mutant beasts.
As Fargo prepared to dodge the Dragon Turtle's next laser beam and rescue the mother and child, a stern order from command suddenly came through his communicator.
"Do not move. Block the laser beam. Forget about the mother and child."
"Why?" Fargo asked angrily.
"Less than a hundred meters behind you is the entrance to an underground shelter. If you dodge, the Dragon Turtle's attack will destroy that entrance. At that point, nearly ten thousand people inside the shelter will be exposed to the beast. You know what will happen then, don't you?"
The chilling news stopped Fargo in his tracks, causing him to hesitate. This was the difficulty of fighting in a city—there were always too many things to consider.
"Ignore the mother and child. This situation is their own doing. When the tremors began, they should have immediately gone into the shelter. Dawn, do not let them disrupt your rhythm, and under no circumstances can you let the mutant beast attack the shelter entrance."
"So you want me to watch them be killed by the beast's fire?"
"You have no choice," came the cold voice from the communicator, tinged with disappointment.
As a warrior, one was expected to remain completely rational and not be influenced by external factors. Being too emotional could cause delays and squander any advantage. It seemed this young pilot was too inexperienced. Young people always want everything to be perfect.
"I can't abandon them, not while they're being killed right in front of me. The whole reason I'm standing here is to protect civilians like them."
"Then are you going to sacrifice the ten thousand people behind you?"
"Of course not."
...
"What will you choose, human?" Muria muttered softly, observing the battle unfold from a god-like perspective. This situation reminded him of a dilemma he had encountered before.
A train was on its normal course, heading toward nine people. You had the ability to change the train's direction, saving those nine people, but on the other track, there was a child playing. What choice would you make?
No matter the choice, it wouldn't be wrong. Each option had its own justification. But whichever one was chosen would leave regrets and invite criticism.
If anyone posed this question to Muria, his choice would be to stand in front of the train and stop it. That way, no one on either track would have to die.
Of course, if someone insisted on telling him that he only had the power to change the track and not the strength to stop the train, Muria would simply blast the person's head off. Did they think his fists weren't strong enough?
Weak beings train to survive in this harsh world.
Those who no longer worry about their lives train to achieve a better quality of life.
And those who stand at the peak of power continue to train for one reason: to leave no regrets, to turn every seemingly impossible dream into reality.
If the outcome isn't satisfactory, then you use your strength to change it. If something is imperfect, you use power to make it perfect.
As long as one's strength is sufficient, there's nothing that cannot be done. If it can't be done, it simply means the strength isn't enough. Only the weak leave behind regrets. The strong choose to have it all. That's Muria's view now.
"Let's see what you'll do." Muria narrowed his eyes slightly, curious to see what choice this young mech pilot would make. Of course, no matter what it was, he wouldn't be surprised. Each choice had its own merits.
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