Jackie lifted the bottle—the “culprit” of everything still drifting inside, like it had gone on this time-travel trip just to pull off a cosmic-scale prank.
“Slippery Grandpa Pete… you still with us?”
Pikaia had been sleeping at the bottom of the glass, but from the movement it suddenly twitched, bent sharply, and swam side to side like it was yelling: WHY THE HELL DID YOU WAKE ME?! LET THE OLD MAN SLEEP!
She gently hugged the bottle, like she was trying to shield him from the firelight and flashes of the orbital battle.
“Oh—sorry, gramps…”
And then—
Blindy’s scream came crashing down from above.
“—fuuuuuu—
uuuuuuuu—
uuuuuuckI!”
Every head snapped upward.
But before anyone could react—
something heavy slammed straight into the crater Zeros had left behind.
The impact kicked up a cloud of dust, pebbles scattering in every direction.
Taichō lunged forward, shielding Shiori with his body. He drew his plasma blade and started spinning it in front of him, deflecting flying debris like a deranged fan.
Jackie flinched and yelped.
The bottle flew out of her hands.
Dick instantly stepped in, caught Pikaia mid-air—two feet from the ground—and calmly handed the bottle back to Jackie.
She coughed from the dust, still coughing as she muttered:
“Thanks, Dick…”
When the dust settled, Zeros stepped out of the crater, holding Blindy.
Blindy clung to the android’s neck like his life depended on it.
Zeros stopped in front of the group and let him go.
Blindy just stood there—pale, like a wind-up doll that had run out of spring, eyebrows twitching.
Zeros swept the group with a heavy gaze—
and stopped on Shiori.
“And you’re here too…” he muttered quietly.
Shiori stood up, waving her hands, brushing away the dust still settling around them.
“Zerosu-san, couldn’t you just use the ladder?
Look at Buraindi-san… I think his soul already left his body.”
Zeros snapped.
“I. HATE. LADDERS!”
Jackie blurted out.
“Oh… we… know.”
Zeros slowly turned his head toward her.
Jackie immediately looked away, pretending to be very interested in the bottle with Pete.
Zeros scoffed.
“Hah…”
Airi stepped forward, slipping between them, smoothly redirecting the tension.
“ONIICHAAN… so good to see you again. [˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶] ‹𝟹”
She smiled so warmly and innocently—like ships weren’t falling from the sky, the city wasn’t burning, and nobody had just decided the fate of the universe.
Zeros suddenly noticed the Author.
He slowly raised his hand and pointed at him.
“HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!”
And right then, Airi suddenly threw her hand up and shouted:
“Arē, arē, arē… ヽ[°〇°]ﾉ
Looks like the battle in orbit is over!”
Everyone lifted their heads at once.
The flashes in the sky had stopped. Only the last fragments of shattered ships were still falling.
But among them—
something far more imposing was descending.
A flagship. Almost the size of the city itself.
A ship of the Galactic Federation.
Admiral Lissa Hartvale’s—frigate Constitution, S+ class.
Its massive hull carved through the smoke-filled sky of Mülldeponie, like a new continent deciding to land on top of the city.
Dick whispered:
“And here comes the boss…
Guess she knocked some sense into everyone up there…
Now she’s dropping in to announce the big victory.”
The sky above the spaceport dimmed. At first, no one understood why. Then the shadow began to spread. It rolled across Dumsta—slow, heavy—like a massive lid being lowered over the city. People looked up. And saw it.
The enormous body descended through smoke, ash, and falling debris, swallowing half the sky. Armor plates the size of city blocks slid past one another, and along its surface, landing thrusters ignited in slow motion, painting the clouds in a cold blue glow.
A deep rumble of anti-gravity fields rolled across the streets. Dust lifted in spirals. For a moment, it felt like the entire city was about to be crushed beneath that metal continent.
But the ship stopped. Hovered. Right above the spaceport.
And then—ships began pouring out of its belly. First dozens. Then hundreds.
Fighters. Interceptors. Assault corvettes. Several dreadnoughts. A pair of space carriers.
From the carriers—smaller landing shuttles and fast interceptors spilled out of opening hangars like a swarm of metallic wasps.
Some climbed back into orbit.
Others dropped sharply, moving in for landing across different parts of the city. The roar of engines drowned out even the distant explosions of falling ships.
The chaos below began to fade. People stopped running. Gangs stopped shooting. Even the burning buildings seemed to quiet down. Everyone looked up.
Because now—
the army had arrived.
A few minutes later, one of the dreadnoughts opened its bays. Thousands of machines rolled out.
Heavy Federation platforms—low, angular, armored, with rotating sensor turrets and plasma suppressors mounted on top. They moved slowly, confidently, as if they already knew resistance would end before the first shot was fired.
They took intersections. Blocked streets. Then came the people. Officers in black Federation uniforms.
Their coats barely moved in the wind—the fabric heavy, military-grade, falling in strict folds. Their faces were hidden behind dark visors, faint cold interface lights glowing beneath.
They moved fast. Precise. No wasted motion. Units spread through the streets, locking down districts and sectors.
Somewhere, someone was still screaming. Somewhere, a shot rang out. But one of the officers simply raised a hand. An armored vehicle turned its turret. A plasma pulse slammed into the wall beside the shooter—melting concrete into glowing slag.
No more shots followed. The chaos died. Then came the space marines. Gray Federation armor—dull metal, cold and heavy. Their helmets were smooth, faceless—just a narrow horizontal strip of sensors. They poured out of the landing shuttles in steady streams.
Dozens. Hundreds.
The marines spread out along the streets and squares, forming two long lines—like a ceremonial corridor.
No one spoke. No commands were shouted.
Every movement was so perfectly synchronized—it felt like the entire army was being controlled by a single mind.
Two lines of gray figures stretched from the spaceport all the way to the construction site. The marines stopped. Weapons lowered. But ready.