Clang!
A tungsten-core shell, accelerated through an electromagnetic array, tore from the barrel. It streaked past like a molten comet, blazing from the [Alexander]'s back—through the cocoon-like cockpit that jutted from its spine. Fragments scattered, embedding themselves into nearby red pines, carving blackened craters of varying depth along the path.
At that very moment—when the cockpit armor melted and twisted outward—fiery fragments and splashes of crimson burst forth. The real-image sensor of Leila's command unit captured everything.
The pilot was dead. The KMF, its power instantly lost, crashed violently to the ground, tumbling like a broken puppet.
Through the ruptured hull, the pilot's remains were exposed to the choking smoke and stench of half-burned fuel—an unbearable sight of torn flesh, opened abdomen, dark stains, and bright blood.
Leila stared at the screen for a long moment, speechless.
She recognized him.
A soldier from the Wyvern Squadron who had arrived right after Akito's team—Charles, commander of a KMF tactical unit.
An E.U. regular, a Frenchman who had fought Britannia in Ukraine. Captain rank, prestigious academy graduate, a man of promise.
After hearing of W-ZERO's victory at Narva over the St. Raphael Knights, he had volunteered to join this high-casualty special operations unit. An excellent soldier.
In combat, he had fought fiercely—destroying several of the St. Michael Knights' [Sutherlands], even forcing a [Gloucester] to eject its cockpit module. His courage had boosted morale across the battlefield.
But here, deep behind enemy lines, Charles had not lasted long. Targeted by an enemy sniper-specialized KMF, one fatal mistake ended him instantly.
Bzzz… bzzz…!
The Britannian armored cavalry continued to advance.
"St. Michael Knights!"
They shouted, "Long live Britannia! Long live Vela!"
Medium- and large-caliber anti-KMF shells, rockets, and artillery rounds crisscrossed the air—a storm of metal and fire.
While maneuvering to evade, counterattack, and issue orders, Leila could clearly hear the roaring blaze devouring the forest and the metallic shrieks of mechs being torn apart.
Trees toppled in great numbers—splintered, burning, shredded. The battlefield that moments ago was chaotic yet clear had now become a wasteland.
The St. Michael Knights' long-range barrage blanketed entire forest sectors like a storm of hail.
The sound of shells piercing armor rang sharper than any cannon fire. Sparks burst at impact points, armor plating shattered, and debris scattered like metallic blossoms—brief, radiant, and gone in an instant.
Amid the chaos—
A [Gloucester] hurled its heavy lance. A Wyvern [Alexander], unable to dodge, was impaled and pinned to the ground before exploding in a violent burst. The [Gloucester] pilot drew his heated longsword, parried deftly, and cleaved another charging [Alexander] clean in half.
The St. Michael hunting squad roared with bloodlust over the comms.
Moments later, another [Alexander], its leg components destroyed but still carrying a fluid Sakuradite bomb, charged forward in beast mode—rushing at the [Gloucester] with a feral roar.
"Die, Britannian pigs! Long live Japan!!"
BOOM!—a pillar of fire tore skyward.
The [Gloucester]'s signal vanished from Leila's tactical map.
Several Britannian unmanned mechs nearby were caught in the blast. A [Sutherland] further back managed to eject in time, but its frame collapsed onto a tree stump, heavily damaged.
Blood and fire—the stench of purgatory filled the air.
Kill or be killed. Hunter and prey. Roles reversed in an instant.
For soldiers on the ground, without overwhelming technological superiority, war was simply this: a contest of corpses—who could keep advancing longer.
"Chyort! It's a suicide mech!"
"Hold steady! Maintain distance! This is just the enemy's attempt to intimidate us—don't falter!"
"Report to Lord Manfredi immediately!"
Even the battle-hardened St. Michael Knights found themselves wary in the face of such suicidal attacks. Their once relentless assault began to slow, caution creeping in.
Suicide attacks…
Within her own W-ZERO unit, one she thought she completely controlled, such acts had appeared.
Leila clenched her fist, her nails digging deep into her palms through the gloves.
Though she had never issued such an order, she had also not locked the pilots' cockpits. Those explosive modules had originally been meant for sabotaging Britannia's transport routes. But now, suicide assaults had begun. That was fact.
She was no different, in essence, from the "Kamikaze Arnold" she despised—both relying on others' lives and sacrifices to succeed and rise in rank.
Yes, she was not as pure as she wished to be.
But because of that, she would bring them victory—with every ounce of courage and strength she had left!
Akito too…
Akito was still fighting.
Somehow, Leila could almost hear Akito's voice echoing in her ears.
"Die."
"Die! Die!!"
"All of you, die!!"
He was consumed by that wild frenzy once again, rampaging across the battlefield—killing and killing. Because of her plan, he had become a beast once more.
Leila seemed to hear the voices of others too.
"For the Alliance!"
"France, may you live forever!"
"This is Japan's vengeance!"
"Mom, Dad—live on—"
"I'm sorry…"
"Damn Britannia… damn the E.U.… Yukiya, Ayano… aaaaaah!!"
...
Leila knew—this was the Brain Raid System (BRS) mounted on the [Alexander] units, linking pilots' brainwaves together.
When pilots reached extreme mental focus and emotional strain, their brain activity would synchronize—allowing them to faintly glimpse and hear each other's thoughts, especially their final cries before death.
Though sorrow and anger filled her heart, she could not change it.
Generals dying on the front line was nothing new.
The Britannian army was not wrong—each fought for their own nation, their own duty. None of them were truly at fault.
No… this was not the time for grief. Before departing, she had made a promise—to do everything in her power to bring more of her soldiers back alive. To change things, starting with W-ZERO. To make the world even slightly better.
Leila—pull yourself together!
What's wrong is not them—but this blood-soaked, insane world.
You must change it. Even if only a little.
Repeating this silently in her heart, Leila lifted her head.
The violet in her eyes still carried sorrow—but also unyielding determination.
"Wyvern Squadron—all units, advance toward Daugavpils! Notify every Minsk Army unit we can reach: our forces are engaged! The St. Michael Knights' reserve division is fighting us directly—begin the offensive as planned! Immediately!"
She shouted hoarsely, "Let the survivors honor the dead! The nameless warriors' glory is immortalized beneath the Arch of Triumph!"
In that instant, as Leila roared and seized the [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb from the hands of her escorting [Alexander], hurling it into the enemy's fire network with flawless precision—far beyond her simulation results—a faint blue radiance flickered in her left eye.
...
"Another suicide attack?!"
Beyond the forest, the St. Michael Knights' commander, Michele Manfredi, watched grimly. His face, like chiseled marble, darkened.
"This time they're not all equipped with suicide systems… a bluff, then."
Wearing his tactical earpiece, he stared coldly at the explosion's source.
"Tch. Capturing the local commander alive is going to be troublesome. Are they Elevens—or E.U. regulars?"
But then—
"To tie the knot, one must first untie it. Truly, our master, Lady Vela, foresaw this perfectly—predicting the E.U.'s strategy to such detail that she even recalled part of our forces from East Prussia."
Admiringly, Manfredi crossed his arms, turning his gaze toward the special armored cavalry unit beside him, their shoulder plates marked with [AREA-11].
The 11th District Expeditionary Corps—at its head, a dazzling white-and-platinum Knightmare.
It was none other than the custom seventh-generation model [Lancelot], piloted by the so-called "White Knight of Area 11," Suzaku Kururugi.
Having been decorated during the Königsberg Victory Parade, Suzaku had already been formally accepted into the Britannian military under authorization from the Third Princess. His combat record was outstanding, and his allies hailed him as such.
Of course, among the E.U. forces—particularly along the Danzig Front—he was known by another name: "The White Hyena of Area 11," or simply, "Vela's Hound."
"Captain Kururugi, Lieutenant Sekiya, Lieutenant Sato—you know what to do."
"Yes, My Lord!" ×N
Shhh—!
Like a rocket, [Lancelot] shot forward, tearing into the smoky forest where explosions thundered and smoke billowed thickly.
The air rippled violently, whipping Manfredi's cloak around him. Raising an arm to shield his face, he squinted at the white-plated Knightmare speeding into the chaos. "A custom seventh-generation unit… such absurd performance," he muttered in awe.
"Of course—it's my 'child,' after all~"
The voice came from a man in conspicuous white attire and rimless glasses.
His flippant tone immediately drew furious shouts from nearby staff officers.
"How insolent!"
"Count Asplund, this is not Area 11. Since you've joined the army, try behaving like a soldier!"
Lloyd only shrugged, clearly paying no attention. Beside him, a woman in an orange officer's uniform bowed apologetically again and again.
"It's fine," Manfredi said kindly, waving his hand. "I just feel a bit itchy for battle myself. Unfortunately, my [Vercingetorix] was lent to Lord Shaing at the Danzig Front—he needs it more than I do. My new Knightmare is still under construction. Some new technological breakthroughs have delayed delivery."
"[Vercingetorix]? New breakthroughs, you say?" Lloyd's eyes narrowed, a flash of intrigue gleaming within.
He'd heard of it—a high-performance armored unit developed by the European Britannian KMF Engineering Division.
Its capabilities surpassed those of sixth-generation models, and in some respects even rivaled the seventh. It could transform into a centaur-like quadruped configuration, granting superior mobility and stability over rough terrain—something current KMFs lacked.
It represented an alternative path of KMF evolution before the advent of the Float System.
"Tch, so many toys I don't get to play with…" Lloyd thought with envy. Once the operation ended and Suzaku returned to Saint Petersburg for further studies, he'd have to find an excuse to visit the Third Princess himself.
Ah, that was the trouble with the European Britannian front—it was simply too vast. Endless mobile warfare, sweeping deep into enemy territory. With Suzaku constantly deployed, [Lancelot]'s maintenance, data collection, and upgrades all fell under Lloyd's department, forcing him to chase the pilot across half of Eastern Europe.
"Maintain formation! Regroup nearby units! Encircle and annihilate the group known as 'Hannibal's Ghost'! Their airdrop here was meant to shake our morale and disrupt our defense at Daugavpils! Enclose them from range and crush them with heavy firepower—"
Just as Manfredi was issuing his calm, methodical orders—
Beep-beep. Electronic tones cut through the comms.
A small window appeared on his portable tactical display.
"Lord Manfredi."
A clear, commanding voice.
The screen displayed a blonde, blue-eyed woman of striking beauty and regal composure.
"Your Highness!"
Manfredi stepped forward and dropped to one knee, hand over his chest.
Cecile hurriedly tugged Lloyd's sleeve, forcing him to bow as well.
"Hmm. Daugavpils is holding well," said Vela, nodding slightly. "As expected of the St. Michael Knights. The E.U. Minsk Army has already fallen into our tempo."
She offered a brief word of praise—then, abruptly, said, "Manfredi, would you mind dying for me, temporarily?"
"What—?!"
Manfredi froze for a moment, eyes wide as saucers—then quickly understood.
There was no way the Third Princess would order his death without reason.
"Your Highness means—to lure the enemy in?"
Manfredi pondered briefly.
"Indeed."
Vela nodded.
"The W-ZERO unit's elite Wyvern Squadron was nearly wiped out, their commander slain—but in return, they eliminated the St. Michael Knights' commander and destroyed Britannia's forward command post in the region. With the precedent of their success at Narva, the situation is repeating itself."
Even after gaining her first active Geass ability, Vela still adhered to her philosophy: every operation must serve multiple purposes.
Smiling faintly, she asked, "Wouldn't such results meet the expectations of the E.U. Defense Committee of Forty?"
"Erasing the northern salient and calming public opinion—they won't ignore such an opportunity. And once they move out from their shells, that's when we strike."
"So, what would you have the St. Michael Knights do next?" Manfredi asked, quick to catch on.
"Hmm. Your ground command flagship—it will serve as bait. Lure the E.U. Wyvern Squadron into destroying it."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Manfredi didn't question further like a miser haggling over costs. He accepted without hesitation. With the princess's generosity, if she had them blow up one today, she would no doubt replace it later—with an improved, shielded model.
"Eight minutes. I'm eight minutes away from your position," said Vela.
With that, she ended the transmission.
"For Von Breisgau, then," Manfredi murmured.
That German noble's defection had once brought disgrace to his liege family—the House of Hohenzollern. And Hohenzollern was the princess's maternal line.
He did not dwell on it further. "Signal to Daugavpils garrison," he ordered the communications officer. "Stage a disorderly withdrawal. Create the illusion that our forward command post is in chaos and under attack."
"Contact St. Michael G-1 Ground Command Ship—have them move toward our position and begin orderly evacuation of all personnel."
...
Meanwhile, high above—
Whoosh!
BOOM!!
Breaking the sound barrier, fine droplets and ice crystals scattered into clouds that gleamed under sunlight as Vela descended upon Daugavpils.
[Excalibur] hovered thousands of meters in the air, overlooking the dim, scarred landscape below. In the forests beneath, bursts of flame and thick, brown smoke erupted skyward like the breath of a burning earth.
"I can feel it… Geass Fragment—you're here."
Vela's lips curved slightly, and her left eye glowed—its deep indigo iris overtaken by the fiery, avian sigil of Geass.
"Let's give them a little greeting."
She zoomed in the fire-control display and pressed the activation switch on her control stick.
Click—clack— The angular shoulders of [Excalibur] shifted open, revealing the dark muzzles of its hadron cannons.