Boom—BOOM-BOOM—!
Heavy armor assault—autocannons roared, shaking the entire building.
Concrete layers burst apart, turning into showers of steel-reinforced debris.
"It's powered armor!!"
The incoming anti-armor shells poured down like torrential rain, tearing through everything in their path—amid them, Katsuo Tanaka's sharp shout echoed through the chaos.
A soldier caught in the barrage took a direct hit to the torso. His subdermal plating and heavy armor shredded like paper, scattering in chunks that stank of scorched metal.
An open ammo crate was struck by another shell, detonating violently—the scattered shrapnel became flying scythes of death, slicing through nearby Barghest soldiers along with their heavy ballistic vests.
David moved instantly at the sound.
Reaching out, he instinctively shoved Suneo aside. [Sandevistan] kicked in—time stretched as he dodged through the hail of bullets.
But in the realm of cybernetics and powered armor, such acceleration implants were basic equipment—every combatant had them.
Like a fisherman sensing a tug on his line, the Lazarus powered armor trooper below paused briefly, his sensor arrays flashing.
Then his gun muzzle spat flame, the barrel swinging upward—the tracking stream of bullets accelerated mid-flight, locking onto David's high-speed movement, his afterimage blurring across the frames like an old film reel.
Sparks flew. Bullets grazed his boots, hips, and arms, chewing up the flooring and turning it into clouds of shattered concrete. Then—one shell struck the left leg of his EXO armor at an angle. CLANG!—a sharp crack rang out.
The armor plating shattered.
Visible even through the haze, the exosuit's left leg frame twisted grotesquely—part of the metal structure even snapped clean in two.
The flesh-and-cyber beneath was torn open, artificial skin ripped wide to expose tangled wiring spitting blue sparks.
In David's HUD, an alert flashed: [Ankle Reinforcement Module — Critical Error].
A moment later, he crashed hard to the ground, tumbling amid sparks and clattering metal before rolling to a halt.
But bad luck wasn't done with him yet—another barrage was incoming.
Bzzz—
A glow of blue light. With a crackling hum, a plasma orb the size of a human head tore through the smoke.
In the blink of an eye, it flew up through the collapsing floors and struck the level where David had barely stopped himself.
BOOM!
The plasma exploded.
Blinding arcs of lightning spread out. Concrete dust billowed high. The entire floor caved in.
Combustible debris ignited in the instant heat, while the rest broke apart into falling rubble. A silhouette tumbled with the debris—buried in an avalanche of shattered steel and ash.
"David!"
Suneo shouted, clutching an anti-material weapon case as he was thrown into the stairwell by the blast.
"What are you yelling for?! Return fire!"
Rolling and recovering, Katsuo fired a grappling hook to haul himself to the west wall. Tossing aside his [Nekomata], he switched to a rocket launcher, flicking the safety off while glancing at the team's vitals.
Good—David's bio-signal was still active.
"Don't trade fire head-on! Alternate suppression and call for reinforcements!"
He squeezed the trigger—
Whoosh—BOOM!
The anti-armor rocket streaked downward toward the steel titan below—
But was intercepted mid-air.
The Lazarus trooper's powered armor-mounted smart shotgun system auto-tracked and blasted it out of the sky like an anti-missile defense!
That was the signal.
Both SAT operatives and Barghest soldiers stopped caring about ammo conservation—pouring every ounce of anti-armor firepower they had into the assault.
Lazarus troops answered in kind—their fire intensified.
Explosions rolled in endless succession, the shriek of energy weapons filling every moment between.
The entire office complex trembled—light flared, silhouettes fell, and the sound of screams and collapsing concrete mixed into a single, chaotic symphony.
No one could tell how much time had passed—maybe less than a minute, maybe an eternity.
Haa—!Cough!
On the first floor, buried in a pile of collapsed rubble, David stirred awake—shocked back to consciousness by another rumbling crash as a wall gave way nearby.
Thanks to his [Pain Editor] still functioning, the neural signals from his pain receptors were blocked before reaching his parietal cortex. He felt no agony—his mind remained sharp.
No need to check his cyberware interface—he knew his burns must be severe.
If not for the [EXO–2 Assault Variant]'s fold-out shield module he'd raised in time, he would already be dead.
Clang. Detaching the ruined shield unit from his exosuit, David pushed off the rubble burying him and tried to stand—only to see an SAT teammate lying nearby, pinned under a slab of concrete, one hand still gripping a heavy-duty Russian-made electromagnetic pistol.
"Elvin, that you?"
He called out his fellow trainee's name from the Hizawa days. Reflex moved faster than thought—he reached to pull him free.
But—"Joder!"
The curse slipped out instinctively, the kind he hadn't used since his mother drilled him to be polite as a kid.
Elvin's body was gone from the chest down.
The torn stumps, lined with ashen shreds of flesh, dangled with snapped cables and wires like frayed strings. The shattered exosuit core swung limply from a cracked titanium spine.
His other arm was melted off below the elbow, the remaining frame blackened and twisted from searing heat.
Plasma cannon? Or thermal beam residue—then ripped apart at close range afterward...
David guessed grimly.
"Damn it."
He muttered under his breath.
Fury boiled inside him—it had been a long time since he'd been this outmatched in combat. But he had to accept reality: head-on, they didn't stand a chance. Not now.
Tap. Tap.
The sound of rummaging drew closer—the new wave of Lazarus mercenaries was combing through the building.
No time to grieve or think about his fate. Limping, David used the overhead firefight to mask his movement and darted toward the stairwell like a hunting cat.
His original machine gun was gone. He stripped a fallen body of its [SOR-22] heavy rifle—Midnight Arms manufacture.
He checked the mag, grabbed two spares and a grenade, then triggered his exosuit's built-in auto-med module, injecting a cocktail of stimulants, sedatives, hormones, and immunosuppressants.
"Phew..."
He exhaled deeply. A trace of ease crossed his face as his senses sharpened again.
He looked upward.
Dust and gravel rained down from the ceiling—the roar of metal never stopped.
Katsuo and Suneo's biosignals were still active, but Suneo's was flashing red. Not good. They wouldn't last long.
If he went up, he'd just die with them. So—
David turned his gaze toward the Lazarus infantry sweeping the first floor.
Attack the rescue. Draw them away.
Hit where it hurts.
He didn't know the ancient Kang Tao idiom behind that tactic—but he understood the meaning.
Kill. Kill them. Kill as many Lazarus troopers as possible—fast and loud.
Draw the attention of the powered armor pilot. Give Katsuo and the others a window to move.
Hiss— Removing his helmet, leaving only the respirator, David took a deep breath.
Safety mode off.
His intact right leg tensed.
[Sandevistan]—Overclock.
Boom! He kicked off the ground, launching forward like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, straight toward the advancing Lazarus infantry near the corridor.
"Who—"
The lead soldier turned at the sound, raising his weapon—but before the first word fully left his mouth, the [SOR-22]'s full-power round blew the top of his skull apart.
Bang bang bang!
Ratatat!
Thud thud thud!
...
At the same time—on the fifth floor.
The battle neared its end.
Arasaka and Barghest's counterattack was collapsing.
Boom boom boom—KRAK-KRAK-KRAK!
The autocannons had shifted from sweeping bursts to precise volleys, while more plasma and thermal beam discharges erupted from the modular cannons of the Lazarus powered armor units.
Thick blood mist hung in the air, rising from the corpses littering the battlefield. The interior dividing walls were gone—nothing but craters and shredded metal remained. Bodies of Barghest mercenaries covered the floor, and among them lay seven or eight fallen SAT operatives. The number wasn't certain—some were too mangled to count.
"Game over, Arasaka trash."
The lead Lazarus powered armor operator's voice boomed through his external speakers, echoing across the slaughterhouse of a floor. "Kneel and surrender? I'll give you ten seconds. Maybe I'll show mercy and let a dog or two live. Hahaha…"
"Goddamn Ameri-scum!"
Behind a honeycombed load-bearing wall, Katsuo Tanaka slammed his fist against the concrete, clutching an EMP grenade.
The frustration was boiling over.
They had tried everything—but couldn't break through.
Lazarus wasn't some disorganized street gang—they were structured, disciplined, and equipped. Unless you were a supernetrunner capable of bypassing the ICE-grade intrusion countermeasures built into a military-class exosuit—or someone like Morgan Blackhand or Adam Smasher, capable of winning through sheer brute strength—there was no real way to counter a powered armor squad.
The best solution? Deploy your own powered armor unit.
Suddenly—ping!
[David: Katsuo, I'll cover you. Find a chance to retreat.]
Katsuo froze for a second.
Wait—how the hell was he going to cover them?
Before he could ask, the lead Lazarus operator paused mid-step. "One man? An SAT ace?"
He cursed aloud. "Useless bastards! So many of you can't handle one guy?! Has our infantry quality dropped this much since the '20s?!"
"Fuck it! You stay here—kill them!"
With that, he turned the towering powered armor—over three meters tall—and leaped out through the shattered hole in the floor. Two more powered suits followed him, leaving just one behind.
Opportunity.
Katsuo's eyes hardened. He raised the EMP grenade, glancing at his surviving teammates.
"One last strike! Everyone brace for electromagnetic pulse!"
...
Meanwhile—on the first floor.
Screams and the sound of bodies breaking echoed through the corridors.
The lead Lazarus powered armor operator stormed in—eyes blazing behind his visor.
Blood and fire filled the hallways. Wounded soldiers and torn limbs were everywhere.
Even if Lazarus infantry were cheap—fodder, harvested like weeds—he was still accountable. Losses this severe would make his superiors question his command. That meant no promotions, no future—just another washed-up officer stuck at the bottom forever.
"Got some guts, huh? Die!"
He aimed his plasma cannon at the lone SAT operative still cutting through his troops with [Sandevistan]—David.
BOOM—!