The night sky above Odessa burned in streaks of gold and crimson as Zeon's retreat began. Trails of fire arced upward — not missiles this time, but Musai-class transports breaking through the atmosphere, opening their hangar bays to receive the battered elite who had survived the hellish day. What had once been a defiant fortress was now a field of smoke, fire, and ghosts.
Tanya von Zehrtfeld's Zudah roared through the battlefield, boosters shrieking as she wove between wreckage and tracer fire. The Federation's GMs pursued relentlessly, beam rifles blazing through the dusk. Her sensors screamed warnings, but Tanya ignored them, eyes cold, focused only on the retreat vector marked on her HUD.
"Mila, status!" she barked.
The comm crackled before Mila's voice came through, breathless but determined. "Zhou Wei's already made it past the second defense line! I'm behind you— just keep their attention off the transports!"
Tanya gritted her teeth. "Understood. Don't waste ammunition. Prioritize survival."
"Ha. You're the one who said that, Captain?" Mila's voice managed a short, nervous laugh.
A beam sliced past Tanya's Zudah, grazing the leg. She counter-fired instantly, the 120mm rifle barking in rhythm. A GM exploded behind her in a sphere of flame. "I don't die before I give my last order," Tanya muttered.
All across the shattered plain, Zeon mobile suits were pulling back — Doms limping, Zakus burning, Gaws and Dodai units streaking low under the Federation's anti-air fire. It was not a rout, but neither was it a clean retreat. Every second meant another life left behind.
The Federation forces pressed forward, sensing victory. Their commander, General Gopp, watched from the command deck of his Big Tray, his face drawn in disbelief.
"Why now?" he murmured. "They held through three waves — why retreat now?"
An officer beside him scrolled through tactical data, confusion painted across his face. "Sir, the Zeon elites are abandoning the field. Their ordinary troops are covering the withdrawal, but their command lines have gone silent."
Gopp frowned. "That's… madness. They could have retreated yesterday, spared thousands. Why fight to the brink, only to pull back when they have us cornered?"
No one could answer him. The war map flickered red and blue, a living pulse of chaos.
Tanya's Zudah broke through another formation of GMs, vaporizing one and disabling two. She and Mila flew side by side now, battered but alive. Around them, Zeon soldiers cheered as Musai ships began appearing in the upper atmosphere, like salvation descending through flame.
"Captain," Mila said, her voice tight. "We're almost there. The transports are in range."
Tanya took a long breath. Her hands trembled slightly on the controls. "Good. Then we'll make our stand here until the last unit boards. The Federation will not turn our retreat into a slaughter."
Mila hesitated. "But if we stay—"
"I said hold the line!" Tanya snapped, her eyes flashing. Then, softer: "We still have soldiers below us. They deserve to see us standing until the end."
Mila swallowed hard. "Understood, Captain."
They landed on a half-collapsed ridge, using it as partial cover. Federation GMs advanced through the smoke, beam sabers drawn. The night flared again with fire and plasma.
Meanwhile, far above them, the battle between Gary Lin's Strike Gundam and General Griveous's Psychommu-type Gelgoog continued to blaze across the sky like two angry comets.
Gary's breathing was ragged, his console alive with warning lights. "You're one tough boss fight," he muttered, forcing a grin even as his hands ached. "Seriously, where's the quick-time event that ends this?"
> [Comment: User humor remains intact despite structural damage to left wing thruster.] "Yeah, well, humor's free, right?"
Griveous's voice hissed through the comm. "You jest even in the face of annihilation. Your courage borders on stupidity."
"Hey, that's me in every game I play," Gary shot back, firing his beam rifle. The shot grazed the Gelgoog's chest plate, tearing open a plume of molten metal. "Guess this level's harder than I thought."
Down below, Jason Arkadi's Zaku II had landed near a wrecked Zeon outpost. He was scanning the radar, muttering curses. The retreat order was spreading like wildfire, but the signals were inconsistent. Then, his comm flared open — the unmistakable ID of Griveous.
"General!" Jason's voice cracked. "We've got confirmation from M'quve's channel — retreat directive is legit! You need to pull back now!"
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Only the sound of static and deep mechanical breathing.
Then Griveous's distorted tone came through, cold as steel. "Retreat? In the middle of glory? No. Not until this opponent falls."
Jason gritted his teeth. "General, the reinforcements are moving to orbit. If you stay here, you'll be cut off! You're not fighting for glory — you're fighting alone!"
"Then alone I shall triumph!"
Jason slammed his fist against the control panel. "You're insane—!"
Above, the Strike Gundam and the Gelgoog locked blades, the sky blooming with orange heat. Gary pushed back, eyes narrowed. "You've got issues, pal. You sound like every final boss who refuses to just die already!"
> [Observation: Enemy psychological profile matches user's description of 'mid-tier antagonist.'] Gary barked a laugh even as sparks rained across his canopy. "System, I love that you're finally learning genre awareness!"
The Gelgoog lashed out with its beam saber, clipping Strike's shield. Griveous's voice rose into a metallic roar. "You mock war, yet you bleed like all men!"
Gary smirked through the pain. "Maybe. But at least I don't monologue while doing it."
He fired the combined beam rifle and saber in a cross-slash, catching the Gelgoog across the chest. The explosion tore through the clouds, lighting the horizon — but even as debris scattered, Griveous's machine twisted away, battered yet intact. His boosters flared, angling toward orbit.
Jason watched the flash fade into the stratosphere, exhaling a shaky breath. "He's actually retreating…" He leaned back in his cockpit, muttering, "Finally."
But below, the cost was clear. Zeon's ordinary troops — those without names or glory — were dying to buy their elites the seconds they needed to escape. The Federation's counter-fire intensified, sweeping through the broken valley.
On the Big Tray bridge, Gopp stared at the tactical feed, his voice low. "They're abandoning their soldiers… I can't believe it."
An aide looked up from the console. "Sir, orders?"
"Hold position. Let them go," Gopp said after a long pause. "If we chase them now, we'll only feed the slaughter. They've lost enough."
Outside, the thunder of engines drowned everything else. One by one, Musai cruisers tore through the upper atmosphere, their hulls glowing red from reentry heat. Zeon's remaining aces — Char, Tanya, Mila, even the wounded Griveous — all ascended toward the stars.
Tanya's Zudah finally reached escape altitude. Her body trembled from exhaustion, her voice rasped. "Mila… status?"
Mila's voice was faint, nearly drowned by static. "Alive… barely. Zhou Wei made it too."
"Good. Then we're leaving this cursed rock behind."
Her Zudah angled upward, the fires of Odessa dwindling beneath her. She looked down through the display, watching the battlefield shrink — a mosaic of burning wrecks and dying lights.
"For all the men left behind," she whispered. "You won't be forgotten."
Her comm flickered again — Gary Lin's voice cutting through briefly from somewhere in the distance.
"Guess that's round one to us, huh?" he said, weary but defiant. "Don't think I'll let you space guys have all the cool exits."
Tanya almost smiled despite herself. "We'll see who survives the sequel, Federation."
And with that, the remaining Zeon elite vanished into the dark sky, their ships breaking through the clouds like glowing embers drifting into the void.
Gary's Strike Gundam hovered among the debris, smoke trailing from its damaged frame. He looked toward the stars, where Zeon's reinforcements faded from view.
"Yeah, run for now," he murmured. "But I get the feeling… this anime's just getting to the mid-season twist."
> [Comment: Foreshadowing detected. Probability of future confrontation: 92%.] Gary chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "System, remind me to stock more snacks before the finale."
> [Acknowledged.]
Below them, Odessa smoldered — not a victory, not a defeat, just another wound on Earth's scarred surface.
And high above, amid the ash and stars, the war began to turn once more.