An unseen force of annihilation gathered like a dark tide along the fleet's scheduled route. Space twisted faintly, as if countless malicious eyes opened in the void, locking onto the cargo transports sailing through.
The moment Phantylia leaned closer, she found herself nose-to-nose with Omikron's massive faceplate.
Phantylia when she realizes she's been spotted:
Oh hey, fancy meeting you here, bro. Thought you'd still be on Terra.
She feared no fight, but clashing head-on with a fellow Emanator on his home ground was anything but wise.
Aren't you supposed to be on Terra, you son of a—
Phantylia jolted.
This isn't right.
She flashed to Terra for a look.
"..."
Two Omikrons?
No—at every vital node, every key convoy, even beside the major industrial plants, there was an "Omikron."
Had its strength been divided? No… replicated? This Equilibrium Emissary had, by some incomprehensible means, achieved omnipresence.
You actually sliced yourself into that many pieces?!
Indeed… Omikron had shattered itself into countless fragments.
You willingly let your power drop? You trust that Caelus so much?
Yes. An act supremely balanced—yet also supremely ruinous.
Omikron had performed near-self-destruction, only to emerge stronger. Now it existed everywhere, able to command every electronic device of the Corporation. It had scattered its strength in a seeming mutilation, merely to shelter every corner with greater equilibrium.
Rather, this machine had strangled its own future with its bare hands—just to protect those humans!
Unthinkable!
You're already an Emanator, and the reason you ascended should have nothing to do with these mayflies you lot deem ephemeral!
"You actually like these ant-like humans? Think you're some Galaxy Ranger?"
"—beep—Creator—Caelus is prime directive—beep—" Omikron's answer never wavered. "—beep—Power without protection is meaningless—beep—"
Might should serve grander ends, pursue the extremes of one's Path—or satisfy oneself!
"You think this can halt the tide of annihilation? You can guard them for a day, but for a lifetime? This scattered strength is nothing but a mantis trying to stop a chariot!"
"—Humans are small, humans are fragile, humans are ignorant—yet human glory is eternal!—"
Phantylia's soul-flame flared wildly. "Glory? From these mayflies who live a day and spend it fighting among themselves? Their so-called glory is but a spark that vanishes across the cosmos in an instant!"
"—beep—Humans choose hope—beep—I guard hope—beep—"
"Absurd!"
Phantylia lost all patience. Since covert manipulation, media offensives, and external pressure had failed; since this damned Equilibrium Emissary would bisect itself to shield these mortals; since she could neither break them from within nor sever their logistics, and the hateful Emanary had resorted to such extreme guardianship—only one Path remained.
She locked her sights on the very source of it all—Caelus.
Once that core vanished, this sand-castle would crumble. Those laughable rules, that coddled "dignity," that so-called hope—all would collapse before harsh reality!
"Let's see whether a has-been who split his power and fell from Emanator rank can stop a planet hurled straight at your world!"
A barren planet on the fringe of the Talia Star System—long ago drained of resources, scarred by canyons—was seized by invisible force and yanked from its billion-year orbit.
Its crust cracked under colossal stress, shards flung into the void. Faster and faster it raced, turning into a burning, runaway meteor aimed squarely at the faintly thriving starfield.
"—Alert—High-level gravitational disturbance detected—celestial orbit anomalous—impact estimated in 72 system hours—beep—threat level: maximum—"
Omikron's alarm rang through every splinter's core at once, and via the comm network reached Caelus and every key-node officer.
Scattered power, in the face of such vast ruin, is nothing but a drop in the ocean. It can intercept fleets, deflect attacks, even nudge a planet off course—but against a massive world driven by a Lord Ravager, it cannot stop it, not completely.
What truly cannot be stopped is Phantylia's power, not the planet itself.
—Ignite all available thrusters—attempt to alter target orbit—calculate optimal interception point—beep—success probability: below 0.0001%—
Phantylia's smile froze.
A thousand figures shot from the planet's surface into space, racing toward the slowly descending world.
Hey! What the hell are you people doing?!
Caelus was dumbstruck.
Lancelot's gang were yelling something about a do-or-die charge and outright disobeyed orders, flying straight out of the atmosphere!
A thousand was just the start; next, thousands of streaks of light surged into space together.
Are you kidding me? You think you can stop a planet with that scrap metal?
Get back here! All of you! That's an order!" Caelus's roar tore through the comm channel, threatening to burst eardrums.
But the channel was flooded with chaotic yet resolute shouts.
Phantylia's soul-fire burned quietly in the distance, steeped in cruel satisfaction. See? This is hope, this is faith—so fragile, so laughable. Before absolute annihilation, what remains but futile sacrifice?
Yet in truth, she was already a bit shaken.
Yes, these people were worthy of respect; Phantylia could almost feel admiration.
Annihilation has never belittled the brave who march to their deaths.
The next instant, the Omikron's strike arrived.
Its attack bypassed the mechas, shattering the planet's rear half outright.
But Phantylia simply accelerated the front half even faster.
I win—you used too much force!" she taunted the Omikron.
Even if only half remains, it's more than enough to obliterate both worlds!
Like hell! It's just a lousy rock—watch me shove it back!
Lancelot bellowed, piloting the new heavy frame nightingale Caelus had assigned him, first to push the planet.
nightingale
Can't let Big Brother Lancelot push alone!
Yeah… this is life-or-death for our company—worth a shot!
They maxed their thrusters, overloading engines if need be, using manipulators, shoulder armor—any part of their frames that could brace the rock—to hold fast against the accelerating fragment.
Whumm—screech—!
Thruster plumes merged into a single, brief yet tragic ribbon of light against the dark cosmos. Metal screeched and ground on stone, shrieking and scattering countless glowing shards.
But it wasn't enough!
The disparity in power was too vast!
Even tens of thousands of frames, engines at absolute limit, were fragile beneath Phantylia's might.
Thruster lights silently flickered in vacuum, stubbornly opposing the broken world. The metal's wail traveled through every frame into the pilots' bones; alarms shrieked as outer armor buckled and peeled under colossal pressure and Phantylia's ruinous force.
Hold! Hold damn you!" Lancelot's roar echoed through the channel; red nightingale's joints spat scorching sparks as the frame exceeded every design limit.
For the Emperor! For Terra!
For… getting home to dinner!
Amid the chaos rang the simplest wishes. They knew it might be futile, knew their strength was nothing before a celestial disaster—but behind them stood the homes they'd just built, the place that let them eat their fill, wear warm clothes, live with dignity.
No retreat!
nightingale!!!
nightingale burned as if to exhaust every last watt, its thrusters howling.
Brilliant energy blazed from every frontline frame, igniting countless tiny stars in the dark. Strengthened, the machines roared louder, forcibly shaving another fraction off the fragment's speed!
Crack… craaack…
The grating sound of fracture seemed to echo straight into minds even in vacuum. A zaku's leg joint failed first, exploding into shards, yet its torso thrusters kept blasting until the whole frame was ground to metallic dust.
Then a second, a third… yet none pulled back. Their final act before coming apart was often to detonate their thrusters, giving every last newton of push.
No retreat—none!
One mundane, almost trivial reason after another became, at this moment, an unbreakable barrier. The light linked every machine and every soul, weaving a colossal net of will between the planet-shards and their home.
The net of light quivered violently, its edges thinning as though on the verge of shattering. More mobile suits turned to stardust under the over-limit clash.
Just as every suit threatened to disintegrate from heat and imaginary energy, a green radiance sprang from nightingale and wrapped the rest. Yet the mighty force felt gentle, not terrifying.
To the pilots inside, the power was as tender as a mother's embrace.
That green light came from Caelus.
Phantylia's heart lurched.
He's not hiding something, is he?
Impossible. After watching him for so long, she'd concluded Caelus was merely a tougher-than-average ordinary man.
She couldn't find a single flaw inside or out!
The force—drawn purely from Caelus's mind—crushed the planetoid to dust.
Then time reversed; an entire region began to rewind.
Those who had died in exploding suits returned to life.
'A… miracle?'
'Not a miracle—psionic power.'
Caelus's voice sounded in every pilot's ear.
'Miracles are in short supply. Now get back here and copy the regulations like good kids!'
Phantylia, who'd been planning to slip away, was naturally caught.
In my grasp—where could you escape?
A psionic hand kneaded the ball of spirit-fire, rolling and flattening it ruthlessly.
Though only a clone, this Phantylia still needed a thorough roughing-up.
'Crisis over! Stand up straight! Lancelot—take your people and return at once! When we're back, every last one of you who launched without Orders will assemble in the square for a public dressing-down!'
'Y-yes, Your Majesty!' The crowd woke as from a dream, answering hastily.
The suits turned about, limping yet triumphant, and headed for the planet… The square was packed, from high officers like Lancelot to the lowliest zaku pilots. Every unauthorized sortie stood with bowed heads while Caelus roared through a megaphone.
'Very nice—quite the skill set!'
On the platform he scolded them into sheepish silence.
'Think piloting a mobile suit makes you heroes? Try moving planets while you're at it!'
Yet though they were berated, none felt wronged; corners of mouths kept twitching upward.
The Emperor cared about them!
Besides, this wasn't punishment—it was praise wrapped in growls of 'You reckless brats nearly scared me to death.'
'You've guts; don't do it again. Next unauthorized launch gets you booted from the company.'
'Yes, sir!'
With the boss's might behind them, every employee stood taller.
They'd seen the boss in action: one squeeze and a star had shattered.
The criticism ended with a month's bonus docked and a compulsory 300-word self-critique—little more than a formality.
The slap on the wrist was lighter than air.
When the crowd dispersed, Caelus stood alone in the square, watching Order return to the base, and exhaled. Rubbing his brow, he felt more drained than after any fight.
'Next, I deal with you, Phantylia.'
He gave the green flame in his grip a cold chuckle.
'Gah—what are you going to do to me?!'
The clone's mind should have vanished the instant it lost, but Caelus had caught it.
'Do? Punish you, of course. You nearly shut my company down; I'll punish you so hard you'll become…'
He leaned close and rasped in a bubbly whisper:
'A teach~ing aid~'
A teaching aid?
'What are you planning?!'
'Nothing much. When the instructor gives safety lessons, he'll just pull you out and list your crimes, explaining why you're locked up as classroom equipment.'
Phantylia: 'You… you wouldn't dare!'
Utter humiliation!
To be displayed and judged by mortals she saw as ants?
'Why wouldn't I?' Caelus pinched the flame like a misbehaving glow-stick, grinning wickedly. 'You love schemes, corrosion from within, watching hope collapse—perfect case study. You'll star in textbooks and museum exhibits.'
'Aaaaah—!!!' The clone shrieked, hurling itself against the invisible psionic cage—like a moth to flame, futile.
'Shut Up. Keep yelling and I'll seal you into either a toilet brush or a plunger—your pick.'
The threat doused her scream. The spirit-fire froze, even its flicker arrested by formless dread.
A… toilet brush? A plunger?
'You… you wouldn't!' The flame quivered, trying to keep its dignity, but the earnest, eager gleam in his eyes chilled her—he meant it!
'Watch me.' He gave the flame a shake. 'The new company restrooms need brushes. A Lord Ravager clone—foiled in world destruction—turned into a toilet-brush warning… educational value off the charts.'
Suddenly being a teaching prop didn't sound so unbearable.
She couldn't self-destruct; she'd end up a plunger! If this shred of mind returned to the main body, the original would share the toilet-brush experience.
Even if she ultimately vanished, she would have been a toilet brush!
Caelus strolled over to Guinevere, who was orienting new employees.
'Vivi, look what I've got.'
'?''
'You're in charge of education now. Keep her beside you every day and edify her with our corporate culture.'
Guinevere nodded.
'Yes, boss! But… what is she? Looks like a ball of fire.'
'A naughty ball of fire. For now, that's all you need to know. Remember: reform her with love.'
'O-kay! Got it!'
Phantylia: …She could see how bleak her future had become.
Guinevere leaned closer, studying the green spirit-fire bound by invisible force, still twitching. She reached to touch it but was gently repelled.
'All right. Next business trip to the Xianzhou, I'll take you along—you love their culture, right?'
Caelus folded his arms.
'Really? Yay! Thanks, boss!'