At this moment, the Weisswolf Castle Base aerospace launch field was in full swing. Inside multiple underground silos over a hundred meters deep, the rocket support platforms had all been inspected. W-ZERO's new secret weapon—[Apollo's Chariot]—was undergoing its final comprehensive checks.
The main control room connected directly to the upper passage of the Apollo-001 launch pad.
The vast war-preparation hall, built of reinforced concrete, was lined with smooth walls and ceilings. Rails and conveyor belts intersected in a crisscross network, transporting various pieces of combat equipment. The inorganic light from the illumination strips reflected coldly off the humanoid and beast-shaped steel constructs.
Tap, tap.
Footsteps echoed.
"Um, I've read the proposal for the unmanned drones and AI-controlled KMF mechs."
A girl with gentle, refined features, holding a thick notebook stuffed with bookmarks, and with a head of slightly wavy indigo-purple hair, spoke thoughtfully: "You were right, Leila."
The dark blue captain's uniform of the E.U. Unified Army silently declared her identity. On the right side of her chest was a nameplate: Anna Clement.
Just as her appearance suggested—a bright and charming young lady—she was none other than the heiress of the European military-industrial conglomerate, the Clement family.
It was no exaggeration to say that the reconstruction of the W-ZERO Unit, the development, improvement, and mass production of the [Alexander] series relied heavily on the Clement family's influence.
The [Alexander] mechs deployed by the W-ZERO Unit were developed under her personal supervision.
As a bona fide technical captain, she had been capable of dismantling Britannia's fourth-generation [Glasgow] armored Knightmare Frame even as a child—her genius evident beyond doubt.
"I also believe unmanned machines are better suited for the battlefield. But the current level of AI technology still can't meet your expectations, Leila."
Saying this, Anna's pair of emerald-green eyes turned toward her childhood friend beside her. After a moment's pause, she continued:
"In actual combat, stable signal transmission and reliable IFF recognition are the most basic requirements. Rapid identification of combat targets is fundamental… Though I hate to admit it, the reality is that the E.U. has already fallen far behind Britannia in this field. With Clement Group's current technology, it's impossible to build that kind of artificial intelligence. I'm sorry."
"If only we could capture the control core from Britannia's combat robots used in the Baltic urban warfare operations—especially their nodal command AI… The unmanned drone tactics of the Britannian Army could serve as a reference. We've made progress on imitation, but it'll take time before we can simulate tactics or move to deployment. Has Paris been urging us that much?"
"Yes. It's political necessity. The Unified Army must stage a credible counterattack."
Leila sighed faintly.
"With the frontlines deadlocked, my W-ZERO Unit is the hidden blade."
What is a hidden blade?
Answer: taking risks.
Leila stepped forward to the edge of the deep silo, looking down to the bottom where [Apollo's Chariot]—the ultra-long-range suborbital transport craft—lay quietly under inspection.
Composed of three rocket stages, with a total height of 121 meters, the first stage's maximum diameter was 18 meters (average 13 meters). Its payload capacity to low Earth orbit was 175 tons.
If Vela were here, she would probably call it a super-heavy multi-stage launch rocket—or a technical reserve for an intercontinental ballistic missile carrier.
The boundary between space launch vehicles and ballistic missiles had always been blurred. There were many examples of military-to-civil and civil-to-military conversions.
"Using it to bypass Britannia's European air defense network and airdrop forces behind enemy lines for a surprise attack… Even with decoy warheads and support from other fronts releasing foil and chaff interference, this plan is still too aggressive."
Anna stepped forward to the railing, gazing at the upgraded [Alexander Type-02] secured within the third stage's descent module.
It was the weapon she had poured her heart into refining and improving.
"The exterior may look the same, but the software has been upgraded. The results are excellent—thanks to Akito Hyuga's data, basic performance has improved by at least thirty percent. Transformation time has been reduced, and armaments have been reinforced."
Anna's slender hand gently rested on Leila's shoulder.
"The Warsaw Research Institute has sent over new weapon design data. Using the component printer, we've already produced some parts. They should be enough to counter Britannia's new weapons, and they might help you, Leila."
"Thank you, Anna."
Warmth surged in Leila's heart as she expressed her genuine gratitude.
Both the [Alexander] and [Apollo's Chariot] utilized Clement Group's Element Printer technology, giving the Weisswolf Base a powerful capacity for production, repair, and mech R&D.
In this regard, though the W-ZERO Unit's name was inspired by ZERO—the man who assassinated the Britannian Viceroy and ignited the great armed uprising in Area 11—when it came to actual organization and capability, it far surpassed the Black Knights, who were still little more than an amateur resistance band.
Anna suddenly asked, "This is a suicide mission, Leila. Will they really obey and sortie?"
"I believe they will."
After a moment of hesitation, Leila answered.
"That's what you hope for, Leila, not the truth."
"It's the truth. But they also know the consequences of leaving this place. Once expelled or dismissed by the Unified Army, they won't survive in Europe. Everything the E.U. government gave them—everything they have—would vanish in an instant."
A faint sorrow flickered in Leila's eyes. This reality clashed with her ideals of justice and the universal values she wanted to believe the E.U. represented. But she knew clearly—she had to make this choice. Mercy had no place in command.
After their frontline units had been nearly wiped out, and with the subsequent reconstruction and expansion of the W-ZERO Unit, it could no longer be run like a small group of familiar comrades playing soldier. Authority had to be established.
Leading a platoon was one thing. Leading a regiment was another. With so many people now, she no longer had time for heart-to-heart talks with each individual.
"And to maximize their fighting spirit, I will personally take part in the operation."
With those decisive words, Leila turned and left after the final inspection.
...
Meanwhile, in the base's operations conference hall—
Lieutenant Colonel Warwick, the deputy commander, was delivering the final briefing and operational outline.
"...That concludes the plan. This operation, codenamed Gamma, is coordinated with the E.U. Unified Army's main Warsaw front as it advances eastward to reclaim lost territory and secure General Petain's flank in the Ukrainian theater. The main forces stationed in Minsk, Belarus, will also advance north, toward Sector 23D—the Daugavpils area of Latvia."
"The mission of our W-ZERO Wyvern Squadron is to airdrop behind Britannia's lines in the 23D Daugavpils combat zone, launch a surprise attack, disrupt enemy formations, and cooperate with the northward-advancing Minsk Corps to crush the St. Michael Knights stationed there."
"The Hammel Squadron will move via submarine flotilla, deep-diving toward the Gulf of Riga. While the enemy mobilizes, they will land in Sector 23A—Riga, Latvia—create a breach when the opportunity arises, rescue the encircled Riga Corps, cut off the Britannian main forces' retreat from East Prussia, and rendezvous with the Wyvern Squadron."
"The Warsaw Eastern Command's stance is clear—they are willing to abandon northern, central, and eastern Belarus if necessary. Eliminating the salient takes priority."
Facing the silent crowd before him, Deputy Commander Warwick concluded his speech.
Most of the Area 11 refugee soldiers had long since steeled themselves. Selling their lives—whether indifferently, numbly, or resentfully—was nothing new. No one made noise.
When expectations are that low, nothing surprises you.
After all, W-ZERO had a precedent under 'Kamikaze Anou,' where every single combat pilot was forced into self-detonation suicide attacks—total annihilation.
Their gazes all turned toward the blue-haired youth seated at the head of the table—Akito Hyuga.
He was the sole survivor.
The European E.U. regular soldiers, meanwhile, muttered among themselves. Still, as volunteers and elites, though many looked down on the Area 11 soldiers and carried a noble's arrogance, they at least possessed the courage and discipline to fight.
Except—
"Ha?! So, you're saying we're supposed to get on that thing and go die?"
"Airdrop straight into the enemy's center, huh? Figures. A mission tailor-made for the Elevens."
Led by Ryo Sayama and Yukiya Naruse—the so-called troublemakers forcibly conscripted from Paris prisons and juvenile detention centers—these "salvaged scum," as the E.U. soldiers derisively called them, burst into raucous laughter.
Without a doubt, they had been assigned to the Wyvern Squadron.
Compared to the Hammel Squadron, which would deploy later, the Wyverns would strike first—airdropping with the new weapons straight into the enemy lines. The odds of encountering Britannia's main forces, including the St. Michael Knights, were overwhelmingly high. There was no question—it was the deadlier assignment.
"Don't be so pessimistic."
Deputy Commander Warwick, ever magnanimous, waved his hand to stop the security troops from stepping in.
There was no point arguing with men already as good as dead.
At least they would be dying for the E.U.—a little sweetness and sympathy before their departure cost nothing.
"As long as you can link up with any of the advancing E.U. main corps, the W-ZERO Unit's mission will be complete. You'll make it back safely."
"By breaking through the enemy's encirclement from all sides?"
"If you're still alive, that is."
Ryo Sayama and Yukiya Naruse exchanged dry remarks.
Warwick shrugged. "The youth of the old Japan really do think negatively. Remember, this is war—no one can guarantee a hundred percent survival rate. You've all done things that earned you the death sentence already, haven't you? Afraid of this now? That's all for today—"
He clearly had no intention of explaining further.
Before his words had even faded, the door opened, and Leila stepped in.
"Commander Malcal."
"Mm. Thank you for your work, Lieutenant Colonel."
Nodding slightly, she ascended the platform. Her crystal-clear eyes swept across the assembled crowd.
"Since Deputy Commander Warwick has completed the briefing, I'll be brief. I hereby declare—the operation begins."
"Wyvern Squadron, this is your final night before deployment. Rest well. Hammel Squadron, depart immediately. Destination—classified. You have thirty minutes to prepare. Dismissed!"
Operation Gamma officially began at that moment.
...
The next night.
Within Peterhof Palace, surrounded by lush gardens.
Hangar bay.
The fully armed [Excalibur] stood ready.
Vela sat before the tactical command console, where holographic displays and war maps shimmered with shifting data. Raising her gaze from the incoming transmission sent by the Empire's Foreign Intelligence Bureau—Alsace-Lorraine Branch—she curved her lips into a faint, manic smile.
"Wyverns, Hammels… Though the scale differs from what I expected, you chose to lead the sortie yourself after all. Good. Saves me the trouble of blitzing Germany."
The prey had walked right into the net.