Odessa Frontline — Tanya
The horizon over Odessa was a jagged smear of smoke and ash, the air so thick with burnt metal that every breath felt like swallowing nails. Tanya von Zehrtfeld stood in the cramped cockpit of her Zaku, visor glow painting her face in a ghostly green. Her comms crackled with reports — mostly bad — as Zeon lines strained under the Federation's counteroffensive.
"Federation armor advancing on the east ridge! Requesting fire support!"
She pivoted her mono-eye sensor, aligning a volley of 120mm shells with mechanical precision. Her shots tore into the enemy position, the shockwave rumbling through her seat.
Between bursts of gunfire, her wingman muttered on the private channel:
> "Ever hear the rumors? About Newtypes? Supposedly some pilots… can sense things before they happen."
Tanya frowned. "Sounds like a campfire story. You want to live, you keep your eyes open and your finger on the trigger — not on fairy tales."
Her wingman chuckled nervously, but Tanya's mind snagged on the word. Newtype. It had the same taste as the strange headaches she'd been getting lately, like the moment before lightning struck.
That's when the world bent.
The cockpit display warped, colors draining into a cold, white void. The sound of battle dulled, replaced by the measured, contemptuous voice she knew too well.
> "You're too quick to dismiss what you don't understand, child."
Tanya's eyes narrowed. "You."
Being X materialized before her — not as a god of light, but as a shadow wearing the suggestion of a smile.
> "They call it the Newtype phenomenon here. Another name for the same thing — human potential scratching at the edges of the divine. But here… it could resist me."
Tanya's jaw clenched. "Resist you? I thought you were supposed to be omnipotent."
> "There are forces older than me. And there are anomalies… like you. The kind that shouldn't exist."
She reached instinctively for her controls, but her hands passed through them — the battle had frozen around her.
> "I will enjoy watching you break when the war crushes your illusions. These… Gundam worlds… have guardians of their own. I cannot touch them directly. But you? You'll meet them soon enough."
Before she could curse him, the void snapped shut. She was back in her Zaku, alarms screaming, Federation shells hammering her flank.
---
New York Military District — Lelouch
On the other side of the planet, Lelouch von Zehrtfeld walked the perimeter of the New York military camp. The cold wind carried the smell of saltwater and diesel, a sharp contrast to Odessa's scorched air. He kept his coat tight, his expression unreadable.
He was supposed to be inspecting supply routes, but voices from a nearby operations tent caught his ear.
> "—the brass wants data on Newtype candidates," a logistics officer whispered. "If they're real, they could tip the war. Some pilots are already showing reaction times beyond normal human limits."
Another voice scoffed. "Or it's just Zeon propaganda. You know how rumors work."
Lelouch stayed in the shadows, memorizing every word. Newtype. The same word Tanya had dismissed months ago, now appearing in classified conversations. The pattern was forming, and he didn't believe in coincidence.
As he walked away, he allowed himself the smallest of smirks.
If this "Newtype" potential was real, then it was another weapon — one he could learn to predict, manipulate, or turn against both the Federation and Zeon.
The sun dipped low over the battered plains near Odessa, casting an eerie orange glow across the scarred battlefield. Tanya von Zehrtfeld stood atop a ridgeline, her sharp gaze sweeping over the smoldering ruins. Her heart still hammered from the day's fierce skirmish, yet her mind wrestled with something far more unsettling.
A voice—a presence—had pierced her very soul in a moment beyond explanation. Being X. The divine entity who had whispered of a "Gundam Metaverse," who claimed she and her brother were anomalies in this timeline—"not supposed to exist." But Tanya kept that encounter locked tightly inside. She told no one—not Lelouch, not her closest comrades. Such secrets were too dangerous in the midst of war.
Instead, Tanya focused on the whispers she had heard among her fellow soldiers: rumors of Newtypes—humans with psychic gifts, heightened perception, and uncanny reflexes. She had heard the tales but never witnessed any firsthand, nor did she fully believe them. The strange resonance she sometimes felt nagged at her thoughts, but she pushed it aside.
Her loyalty remained steadfast, her resolve unshaken. She would fight for the Principality of Zeon, more specific is peaceful life after war over and protect the timeline she belonged to, whatever the cost.
Meanwhile, far away in New York, Lelouch von Zehrtfeld listened carefully to hushed conversations among officers. They spoke of Newtypes too—candidates for secret programs, research into psychic potential, a possible key to victory. Lelouch absorbed these fragments with cold calculation, aware that Tanya had no knowledge of this growing undercurrent. He kept his thoughts close, never revealing what he knew to his sister or others.
Days passed. Tanya remained vigilant, focused on the battlefield and the survival of her unit. The war raged on, but Tanya and Lelouch fought with renewed resolve. Bound by blood and fate, they prepared to face whatever trials awaited them.