High above the battlefield, Vela operated [Excalibur], aiming toward the outskirts of Daugavpils—where smoke billowed and fireballs erupted across the forested combat zone. Through her craft's onboard tactical interface, she monitored the situation, identifying friendly signals, about to pull the hadro cannon's trigger when—
Rumble-rumble-rumble!!
A cherry-pink flash suddenly burst from the eastern forest near the St. Michael Knights' G-1 Ground Command Flagship.
No observation equipment was needed; even from several kilometers high in the troposphere, the light was clearly visible.
The blast's radiance, shockwave, and booming roar swept across hundreds of meters of woodland in an instant. A searing fireball expanded, engulfing everything in its wake.
In a blink, the dim pre-dawn sky turned to daylight—no, brighter than midsummer's noontide sun, dazzling like a cherry-hued miniature star rising from the earth.
And then, just as quickly, it vanished.
"What is this…"
Her eyes narrowed, the crimson Geass firebird sigil in her left eye flickering as she called up visual data from the explosion's coordinates.
No mushroom cloud. The onboard Geiger counter remained silent—it wasn't nuclear.
The destructive output was far too low, too. The circular crater of ash below was compressed by heat and shock, not annihilated. It was a blast wave, not disintegration. Therefore, it wasn't the 'F.L.E.I.J.A.' annihilation warhead she dreamed of developing in the future.
"A new E.U.-developed [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb, perhaps. Weisswolf Fortress Base… the rank isn't high, but they do have some fine toys. I'll have to visit sometime."
Collecting her thoughts, Vela resumed target identification—lock-on, charge, and trigger pull. The hadro cannon hummed; faint light filled the clouds, reflecting the crimson glow of the charged particle beam.
Zzz—!!!
...
A few minutes earlier.
In the forested outskirts of Daugavpils.
Flames raged, heat waves surged, the air thick with smoke and dust.
The roar of gunfire, the cracking of metal, the shouts of soldiers, the moans of the wounded—all merged with the inferno consuming the forest to form a symphony of war.
The counterattacking Wyvern Squadron.
"Vengeance! Boarding!"
"For France!"
"Commander Malcal is with us!"
The Wyvern pilots, though wordless, understood each other's intent. Though from different units, the trio of pilots moved in perfect sync, launching staggered strikes to exploit openings—cutting down an enemy [Sutherland] that raised its shield too late.
Captain Michael's command unit swung its heat sword, nearly felling a four-legged enemy mech before being intercepted by the precise crossfire of two [Alexander].
In several collisions, both sides' KMFs were locked in stalemate, exchanging close-range blows—but the Wyverns were faster, sharper.
Their sudden improvement in coordination left the St. Michael Knights—who had held the upper hand in both individual skill and formation discipline—stunned.
What…? Were they holding back before?!
The Wyverns' shift from evasive skirmishing to fierce, aggressive engagement caught the Knights completely off guard. Used to maintaining distance to avoid enemy self-detonation tactics, the St. Michael units struggled to adapt, relying purely on grit and reflexes to counter.
Until—
"I am Suzaku Kururugi! The Area 11 Expeditionary Corps has arrived!"
A custom-painted white-and-gold KMF danced across the explosion-torn battlefield.
Twin hooked anchors fired from its arms—swift and precise as a black mamba striking its prey—piercing into the torso joint of an [Alexander] that had been ambushing Captain Michael's unit.
Rip!—The joint armor shattered, locking the unit in place, paralyzed.
The hooks' speed and trajectory were too fast, too exact. Even with the Wyverns' strange, heightened coordination, they couldn't react in time. Their bodies moved, but their mechs lagged behind—flesh could not match machine precision.
"Surrender. As fellow countrymen, I'd rather not kill you."
The white knight's voice boomed from his external speakers—perfect, fluent Tokyo Japanese.
"Baka! You… Suzaku the Fool! Britannian dog!!"
Curses erupted from two nearby [Alexander], their barrels swiveling toward the white hyena from Area 11.
"Is that so? My apologies, then."
Before the words finished leaving his lips, Suzaku Kururugi operated [Lancelot], swinging his glowing red MVS high-frequency vibration sword. In a flash of lightning and sparks, he pierced through the enemy cockpits—cleaving them apart!
Sparks scattered as the mechs were dismembered, detonating in fiery explosions.
One of the European Wyvern pilots shouted, "It's Britannia's W-ZERO unit!"
Because the formation of the Area 11 Expeditionary Corps was publicly portrayed by Britannian propaganda as a retaliatory imitation of the E.U.'s program, E.U. forces mockingly called them "the other W-ZERO."
In truth, no one even needed to say it. Even before any direct confrontation, every member of the Wyvern Squadron already knew the reinforcements from the Area 11 Expeditionary Corps had arrived—through their linked senses.
The reason, perhaps, lay in what that brilliant engineer and her voluptuous neuroscientist colleague had once mentioned: the Brain Raid System (BRS)—a system that allowed parallelization of pilots' brains. Beyond that, they didn't know—and had no time to care.
Ignoring the shouted insults and verbal taunts, Suzaku gripped the controls and made [Lancelot] nimbly evade the Wyverns' rocket fire. Launching his wing anchors from the thigh housings, he fixed, spun, and whipped them around in a high-speed lateral movement before retracting them and leaping high into the air.
Instantly, a storm of KMF fire erupted—armor-piercing rounds, fragmentation shells, and anti-armor munitions all targeted [Lancelot]. Yet all were deflected by twin luminous shields that radiated emerald light, scattering sparks in all directions.
Beep-beep.
From both sides of the chest, real-image sensors extended outward. Suzaku seized the opportunity to rapidly survey the battlefield.
According to Colonel Manfredi's and Her Highness Vela's orders—capture the enemy commander alive, annihilate the airdropped Wyvern Squadron.
Where was their field commander?
Suzaku felt an impatient edge to his thoughts.
Once the target personally named by Her Highness was captured alive, the army could unleash unrestricted bombardments and heavy artillery coverage—minimizing further casualties.
As for what made the enemy commander so special, or why Her Highness demanded the target be taken alive—that was none of a mere captain's concern.
Until he completed his studies in St. Petersburg's military academy to fill the gaps in his cultural and strategic education, his current rank afforded him no real command authority. Within the Area 11 Corps, his influence rested solely on battlefield prestige and royal endorsement. Suzaku was well aware of his limits—he avoided giving orders, deferring instead to the staff officers, lest his inexperience lead to needless losses.
As his gaze swept the terrain, something caught his attention.
"Is that…?"
His eyes widened; his body leaned unconsciously forward.
He hadn't found the commander—but a beast devouring his allies.
"Hannibal's Ghost…?"
Decision crystallized in his mind. Suzaku's grip on the control sticks tightened.
Elsewhere—
Akito Hyuga heard and saw his comrades being killed. Yet he neither pitied nor mourned them. His brows didn't even twitch. If anything, the faint curve of his lips suggested… enjoyment.
As if under someone else's control, he coldly piloted his custom [Alexander Type-01]. His irises, once a calm blue, were now veiled in a crimson haze. The corners of his mouth twisted upward in a cruel arc.
It was the mark of Geass—
the Geass of Death.
"Die! Die, die, die! All of you—die!!"
The boy destroyed everything before his eyes.
"You bastard—!"
This white E.U. KMF moved unlike any the St. Michael Knights had ever encountered—its motion sharp, almost alive, too fast for sensors to capture anything but afterimages.
Racing and drifting through the gunfire like a dancer gliding through a storm of bullets, the white specter weaved through destruction.
"Hannibal's Ghost" turned, switching seamlessly between humanoid and beast form depending on terrain, leaping, spinning—its kick crushed one [Sutherland] cockpit flat, canopy and all, while its combat pike impaled another.
"Damn you!"
A captain of the St. Michael Knights, his mech already damaged, flew into a rage watching his subordinates fall. He tore off his tattered cape and swung his heat sword with reckless fury—but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't win. After a brief clash, his heat blade was struck from his hands.
"Die!!"
Akito grinned ferociously as he pushed the control sticks forward. The reinforced wrist blade housed within his mech's forearm extended outward. He could already picture the moment he would tear the pilot inside apart—granting them death.
"Stop!"
Whip!—A flying anchor dropped, interrupting Akito's attack. Following close behind came a flamboyantly painted white-and-platinum armored knight.
Transforming midair, Akito shifted his [Alexander Type-01], using its left leg—equipped with additional armor plating—to deliver a vicious kick toward the opponent. Clang!—the heavy impact echoed across the field.
"Made it just in time."
Deflecting the side kick with only one arm, Suzaku Kururugi blocked the blow and stood protectively in front of the damaged [Gloucester] captain unit.
"Thanks."
Though clearly unwilling, the St. Michael Knight knew staying would only get in the way. After expressing brief gratitude, he withdrew. At that moment, additional Area 11 Expeditionary Corps armored units arrived—their reinforcements crashing into the fray, suppressing the Wyvern Squadron that had just begun to rally.
"You die too!"
Bang! Akito kicked a destroyed mech toward them, and while Suzaku exchanged brief words with his allies, he lunged again. The auxiliary arm's electromagnetic assault rifle roared, firing tungsten flechette rounds. Suzaku swiftly maneuvered [Lancelot], narrowly avoiding the wreckage—raising one arm to deploy the energy shield, while swinging his sword with the other, severing Akito's weapon pike in half.
Clang!—a sharp metallic ring.
Unfortunately, his second strike missed.
Such speed… and reflexes. The mech's drive feedback system was incredibly responsive—almost on par with the seventh-generation [Lancelot].
Suzaku thought silently.
"Heh… hehehe…"
Akito tossed aside the damaged weapon without hesitation, drawing his variable KMF combat sword. Madness and ferocity burned in his eyes, but beneath it shimmered a cold, lucid excitement—a thirst for blood.
A custom unit. Specialized anchor claws. Energy shield technology. A high-frequency vibration blade.
His opponent was strong. Perfect. The stronger, the better. He would bring this one death!
"Die!!"
He charged forward.
The two white-painted, conspicuously distinct Knightmares clashed once more—crossing, colliding, exchanging blows again and again.
There was no doubt—Akito had encountered a formidable enemy!
Amid the blaze and chaos, Leila's speeding unit caught sight of them, and sudden realization flickered across her face.
She saw the platinum-white machine battling Akito. Through the Brain Raid System, she could sense Akito's emotions—his rage, his madness, his past. She could also feel the hearts of her entire Wyvern Squadron: a single, burning desire for victory—for themselves, for their homeland, for their ideals, for the beautiful world they dreamed of.
She had to succeed.
She had already seen the way.
A moment ago, an unfortunate Area 11 soldier had perished on the outskirts—but before dying, he had witnessed something crucial.
From the direction of Daugavpils, a massive Britannian ground command carrier was retreating northwest.
Its red hull and emblem of wings and blades marked it unmistakably as the St. Michael Knights' G-1 Flagship.
According to reports from the Minsk Front, Britannian garrisons within the city were already showing signs of disarray after learning of internal disruptions. Compared to previous operations, the armored cavalry units that usually swarmed Daugavpils seemed far fewer.
So it was true—they had stumbled upon the St. Michael Knights' strategic reserve. That colossal mobile command carrier, even if not the Britannian frontline headquarters, was certainly a vital regional hub.
Destroy it!
A faint blue glow flickered in Leila's left eye as she extended her mech's arm backward.
No words were needed—not even a glance. Her heavy fire support squad, in perfect coordination, disengaged a cylindrical [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb from its restraint clamps.
Leila lifted it across her chest—identity verified, timer detonator armed.
Now it was her turn to act—for everyone.
Through the gaps in the forest canopy, she gazed at the massive steel fortress moving along the horizon.
Close-range launch!
Acting decisively, Leila distributed commands—one hand gripping the launcher, the other holding the [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb powerful enough to vaporize her entire mech. She burst from the treeline.
She could clearly sense it—the enemy's weakened front lines.
Was it because their reserves had been drawn to Akito's position?
Thinking of the pressure Akito was under, the newly arrived Britannian reinforcements, the near-total loss of drones, and over fifty—no, now sixty-three—elite Wyvern pilots killed… the squadron was reduced by more than half.
There was no time for hesitation.
"Commander, we believe in you!"
As Leila's mech sped forward, her surviving soldiers—linked by the parallelized Brain Raid System and driven by injected neurostimulants, or perhaps by sheer faith in Commander Malcal—charged past her. Europeans and Elevens alike, they advanced one after another, seven more falling in the assault, but their sacrifice opened a path toward the enemy's mobile command center.
Target within launch range.
A blinking indicator flashed on the main screen.
While her escorts scattered chaff and decoy flares to jam anti-air defenses, Leila didn't hesitate. Load—fire.
Boom.
The [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb—no larger than a fuel drum—traced an arc through the air, landing near the moving landship's silhouette.
Countdown: zero.
In the next instant, a cherry-pink fireball erupted skyward—its shockwave sweeping through everything.
Grass and foliage within hundreds of meters were instantly scorched dry, then ignited into flames.
Screech—! Leila's mech drifted backward, its drive wheels carving deep grooves in the ground.
Inside the cockpit, the light from the explosion painted her face pale and rose-tinted.
When it was over—
All that remained before her eyes was fire, ash, debris, and the molten wreck of the landship.
Success!
Joy flashed across Leila's face.
She could feel her subordinates' collective elation.
The St. Michael Knights surrounding them had begun to falter, signs of confusion spreading through their ranks.
That was the symptom of broken command structure. It meant that if they could just hold on—just a little longer—they might all survive and rendezvous safely with the Minsk Front.
Then, Leila's expression softened, her joy giving way to melancholy.
Not for herself, but for her fallen soldiers—and even the Britannian troops who had perished in the blast. This was never what she had wanted.
If only the boundaries between friend and foe could vanish—if all humanity could understand one another—would war itself disappear?
Perhaps it was an illusion, but her left eye felt hot. And in that moment, she thought she heard other voices.
"Annihilate these E.U. scum!"
"All Hail Vela!"
"Damn it! G-1, how could—"
"Manfredi… plan? This was all part of the plan…"
"…Her Highness' will…"
…
The Britannian army's voices?
Why could she hear them? Did the Britannian forces also have the BRS system installed—?!
Before Leila could process it—
"Aaaaaaahhhh!!"
A scream.
Akito's scream.
No—he was in danger! Against the desperate, enraged St. Michael Knights, Akito was being overwhelmed!
"Akito! Hold on—I'm coming—"
Before she could finish, as Leila turned her unit to lead a rescue toward Akito's isolated position, beep-beep-beep—the shrill alarm blared across her console. Warning indicators flared bright red.
Her eyes widened.
An attack—from above?!
Leila jerked [Alexander]'s head upward; the real-image sensor zoomed in—there was light flashing in the heavens.
Accompanied by the piercing shriek of superheated air being torn apart, two dark-red particle beams fell from the sky, screaming like the wrath of the gods.
Rumble-rumble-rumble—!
Like twin high-pressure waterjets, the beams slashed across the battlefield from the opposite direction of the Britannian lines, carving burning trenches of ash.
In a heartbeat, eight more Wyvern pilot signals vanished from Leila's tactical display.
The crimson hadron beams scorched through the forest, stopping less than a hundred meters from her position before finally fading into threads of particles. The earth still glowed molten, the ravine smoking like a cauldron of hellfire.
Gulp…
Leila swallowed hard. The Hadro Cannon—according to intelligence, only one such weapon was operational in Eastern Europe, and it belonged to the Third Princess' personal Knightmare. But hadn't she returned to St. Petersburg—to depart for Siberia with the Ninth Knight to retrieve her younger sister?
Boom!
Before the thought could finish, a blazing star streaked downward, shockwaves rippling through the clouds.
That was no meteor—it was a massive, flying Knightmare.
[Excalibur].
"Attack!!"
"Commander Malcal, please retract the comm amplifier—we'll cover you! Regroup with the Minsk Front!"
Without waiting for Leila's command, the heavy fire squad unleashed their full barrage—all weapons firing at once. Yet before the dense, flickering green glow of that massive energy shield, not a single shot broke through.
It was a shield far more powerful than even the one the White Knight Akito had faced earlier.
After all, the difference in scale spoke for itself.
According to W-ZERO's data officers, defeating [Excalibur] required concentrated, group-level heavy fire. In small-unit encounters, unless there was an overwhelming difference in piloting skill, the machine was virtually untouchable.
Or—one could use something like a [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb. But as Leila scanned her surroundings—filled with comrades she had fought beside every day—could she?
Time waited for no one. The barren, smoldering clearing around them was the result of their own bombing.
Just as Leila hesitated, a flash of silver descended—brilliant as moonlight. A second-stage acceleration burst followed, and a massive steel-gray claw shot out like lightning, seizing the [Alexander]'s torso in an unyielding grip.
"Found you."
Leila thought she heard a cold, composed voice speaking directly to her.
Crack—
The 4.5-meter [Alexander] looked childishly small against the towering 13-meter [Excalibur].
Boom!!
The smaller KMF was yanked upward—then, within seconds, hurled kilometers away. It crashed into the ground like a meteor, earth and sand exploding skyward, debris raining down like storm droplets.
The violent tearing of metal followed; the cockpit's linkage to the frame had been critically damaged.
"Cough… wait—we can talk—"
[Excalibur] lifted its foot and stomped down on the [Alexander]'s chest, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"No rush."
Vmmm—
Vela turned her gaze toward the suicidal Wyvern units still charging toward her—especially those of the heavy squad, each carrying a [Sakura Stonebreaker] bomb. How amusing, she thought. The unconscious synchronization and contagion born of shared mental links. But she couldn't allow them to get close.
She squeezed the Hadro Cannon's trigger once more. The searing hadron beam condensed in an instant into a crimson lance of destruction, sweeping horizontally across the battlefield—devouring everything.
Every KMF caught within the beam expanded and detonated without exception.
"No—don't!!"
Even with her sensors half-fried, Leila could still see—and what she saw made her scream.
Her emotions surged like a tidal wave—and suddenly, she could see and hear more clearly than ever.
Inside [Excalibur]'s cockpit, the blonde woman with mismatched eyes looked up—gazing straight at her.
"When you stand before your sovereign, why do you not kneel?"
The Third Princess of Britannia met her eyes.
What eyes they were—
An inhuman left eye, burning scarlet, marked with a living firebird—radiating greed, pride, coldness, and the lust for battle, all negative emotions fused into one. As that eye locked onto her, Leila felt like prey on a cutting board, while the other pondered where to make the first incision.
"So you've awakened to this degree already? Excellent."
Vela could clearly sense the constant presence that had lingered just beyond her consciousness—the one watching her mind from afar.
She gripped the control stick linked to [Excalibur]'s right hand, and without hesitation, tore the capsule-shaped cockpit free. With a violent rip, she tore off the hatch as well.
Raising the energy shield to isolate the area from the outside world, she stepped forward as the torso armor unfolded with heavy clicks.
Vela descended from the command cradle, her boots striking the mech's armor with a sharp clack-clack as she approached the capsule clutched in [Excalibur]'s hand. Inside, Leila stood unsteadily, bloodied and bruised, glaring up at her in defiance.
"The last scion of House von Breisgau."
Vela smiled elegantly, her crimson Geass sigil flickering as it met the faint blue glow of Leila's own.
The distance between them—less than a meter.
Vela could feel it—the firebird within Leila, once confined and trembling, was now ready to take flight.
The click of her heels echoed sharply as she stepped closer.
Until finally—
"Plunder."