The sky above Odessa roared with the engines of war. Federation carriers filled the horizon, ten massive Big Tray-class fortresses crawling across the plains like steel mountains, while five Daidalos-class assault ships floated above them, opening their hatches to release swarms of GMs. The air vibrated with the hum of hundreds of thrusters, Core Fighters darting like hawks ahead of the formation. To the men and women of Zeon entrenched in their bunkers and trenches, the sight was overwhelming, almost unnatural—an ocean of machines advancing to wash away everything in their path.
Inside the lead Big Tray, General Revil's trusted subordinate, General Gopp, stood over a tactical display. His gloved hand traced over Zeon's defensive lines with a calmness that contrasted the thunder outside. "They've dug in deep," he said, his tone measured, "but their lines are stretched thin. Here, here, and here—their flanks are shallow. Push hard and they will bend." His staff nodded quickly, relaying orders to the captains and ground troops. Calm precision defined him; there was no flourish, no grand speech, only steel determination.
Amuro Ray stood quietly in the Gundam's cockpit, listening to the vibrations of the mobile suit around him. Kai and Hayato were prepping their Guncannon and Guntank nearby, exchanging nervous banter about how far they'd come since Side 7. "Never thought I'd be here, facing down the whole damn Zeon army," Kai muttered, voice tight but hiding his fear behind sarcasm. Hayato simply nodded, checking his controls with small, deliberate motions. Amuro spoke softly over the comm, "We've come too far to hesitate now. If we win here, Zeon will never recover. This is our chance to push them off Earth."
Elsewhere, Athrun Zala stood in the hangar, staring at the crimson silhouette of the Aegis Gundam as engineers locked in its transformation joints. His hands rested on the railing, eyes dark with conflict. "The Federation trusts me with this machine," he murmured, almost to himself. Lockon Stratos appeared at his side, leaning casually against the frame with a smirk. "Don't go getting sentimental, rookie. This is war, not a school test. Just make sure you don't scratch your toy." Athrun shot him a glare, but Lockon shrugged, climbing into the Buster Gundam's cockpit. "Besides," he added, grin softening, "this is the big one. Odessa decides everything."
The storm broke over the Zeon defenses with terrifying force. Federation artillery opened up, Big Tray cannons spitting thunder across the plains. Explosions rippled along the Zeon frontlines, dirt and fire geysering into the air. Core Fighters swooped low, unleashing rockets into trenches, and then the GMs came—descending from the sky in waves, their beam sabers lighting the horizon like falling stars.
Zeon soldiers huddled in their foxholes, hands trembling around rifles and launchers. "They're everywhere! They just keep coming!" one shouted, his voice cracking as Federation mobile suits loomed over the ridge. Anti-air turrets roared back, and Zaku squadrons scrambled to intercept, but the sheer volume of fire swallowed entire units before they could respond.
Inside Odessa's underground command, M'quve sat in pristine calm. The tactical board before him lit up with red signals marking collapsed sectors, but he moved the markers like chess pieces, pulling reserves, shifting tanks, and reinforcing weak lines with quiet authority. "Deploy the 14th Armored to the eastern ridge. Tell the 32nd Zaku squad to hold their ground. Every man must understand—Odessa is the gate to Zeon's honor." His voice was smooth, almost aristocratic, never betraying panic. Officers scrambled to obey, comforted by his steady poise even as the outer defenses crumbled.
The cries for aid grew desperate, and at last, M'quve gave the order. "Release the aces. Show the Federation what it means to challenge Zeon."
Tanya von Zehrtfeld's Zudah roared onto the battlefield, its thrusters trailing unstable flame, her squadron close behind. Zhou Wei's Dom thundered forward, Mila and Richter flanking with their own machines, each one burning with determination. "Hold the line!" Tanya's voice cut through the comm, her fury barely contained. "Don't let them break through! Kill them before they kill you!"
On another front, Ramba Ral's custom Gouf carved through Federation GMs with a heat sword blazing. His laughter carried over open comms, a grizzled veteran relishing the fight. Norris Packard was beside him, calm and deadly, his custom Gouf's whip slicing a GM in half. The Black Tri-Stars appeared next, their Dom units forming the infamous Jet Stream Attack. Three GMs fell in the span of seconds, crushed beneath their coordinated assault.
For a moment, the tide slowed. Zeon's elites blunted the Federation's spear. But Gopp remained relentless. "Advance reserves. Press the weak points. They will not hold." His commands were delivered with machine-like precision, hammering Zeon's lines wherever they staggered.
Amuro's Gundam tore into Zakus with merciless precision, beam rifle blazing. Athrun's Aegis transformed mid-fight, grappling a Dom and crushing it beneath a crimson blade. Lockon's Buster rained fire from afar, blasting bunkers into rubble. Federation GMs pushed through gaps, stepping over shattered trenches.
Zeon soldiers faltered, eyes wide as the endless tide bore down on them. "They can't be stopped! They just keep coming!" Fear spread faster than the flames, whispers of retreat passing through every squad. Some dropped weapons and ran, others fired wildly, desperate to survive.
And then Tanya's voice boomed across the fortress. Her image filled every comm screen, her Zudah standing tall against the Federation advance. Her tone was not gentle—it was venom, fury, and iron discipline.
"Listen to me, all of you! The Federation thinks you're already beaten. They think they can drown you with numbers. But we are Zeon soldiers! We stand here not for glory, not for medals, but because this is our duty! You run now, and you die as cowards. You fight, and you live as men!"
Her words cut like a whip, pulling terrified soldiers back from despair. "Look at them! Machines without spirit! Invaders without resolve! We are Zeon! We will not yield to their arrogance! Stand firm, hold your rifles, keep your eyes forward—because if we fall, Zeon falls with us. And I will not let that happen!"
Silence hung for a beat, then cheers erupted from every trench and bunker. Soldiers who moments before trembled with fear now gritted their teeth, roaring into the storm. "For Zeon!"
Tanya raised her Zudah's rifle, flames dancing across its frame. "For Zeon does not retreat!" she declared. The battlefield shook with the answering roar of a thousand voices.
The Federation continued its advance, but the Zeon lines no longer wavered. Odessa had become a furnace, and both sides would burn in its fire.