Six later... Terra Nova
She dreamed of the end of the world again.
Fire raining from the sky.A comet screaming through the clouds like a god's spear.And then — silence.
In the dream, Jo stood on the bridge of a ruined G.E.A.R., her breath fogging the inside of her cracked helmet. All around her, the world burned in tones of violet and gold — the sky torn open, mana flaring like auroras over fields of ash. A Kaiju moved across the horizon, too vast to fit in her visor's frame. Its bones were made of steel, its veins pulsing with magma, and its roar sounded like every soul that had ever died.
Then came the flash.
Always the flash.
Jo gasped awake, the scream caught behind her teeth.
The ceiling above her was low and reinforced with curved alloy ribs, painted a dull olive green that caught faint light from the vents. Her body felt weightless for half a second before the stabilizers in her bunk adjusted for the city's slow crawl over the wasteland. She blinked until the HUD overlay in her retinas recalibrated, projecting a soft blue readout.
Location: Regios Terra NovaTime: 05:17 Standard
"Meg," Jo said flatly. "Get up."
"Five more minutes."
Meg's arm flopped off the side of her hammock, a half-empty can of synthetic cola dangling from her fingers. Her fiery red hair was a tangled halo around her face, streaked with soot and streaks of neon blue from last night's tune-up. She slept in a torn tank top that read 'Built, Not Bought' across the front — oil stains serving as punctuation.
The bunk above her shuddered as another figure dropped down gracefully.Amy, the youngest of the crew, was already dressed in her orange pilot jumpsuit tied around the waist, her white tank pristine — somehow. Her short blonde hair framed a sharp, analytical face that never looked like it had seen enough sleep. "We've got a refuel call in two hours," she said, scrolling through a holographic checklist. "And the G.E.A.R. still needs its mana shielding re-synced."
"Tell that to Meg," Jo said, rubbing her temple.
"I did," Amy replied, shooting a look toward the still-sprawled redhead. "Three times."
A quiet voice drifted in from the corridor — calm, measured, with that faintly aristocratic tone that made people straightened when she spoke.
"Enough noise. Some of us are trying to run a business."
Sei walked into the cabin with a tablet under one arm, dressed in a crisp white uniform jacket that contrasted starkly against the industrial grime around her. Her black hair was pinned up, a single lock falling over one eye, and a data-visor shimmered across her left temple. She was older than the rest — early thirties — and every inch the composed strategist.
"Morning, Boss," Meg mumbled from her hammock.
"Engineer," Sei replied without looking up. "You still haven't finished recalibrating Ceres Unit 2's left arm."
Meg cracked one eye open. "Define 'finished.'"
Jo let out a low chuckle. "She means working, Meg."
"Eh, details."
The living quarters hummed faintly as the Regios crawled forward across the wastes. Terra Nova was a marvel of desperation and engineering — a mobile city the size of a mountain, its undercarriage driven by twelve nuclear treads and mana-reactor thrusters. On the surface, skyscrapers shimmered beneath translucent domes that filtered the irradiated sunlight.
Burst Angel was one of the many mercenary companies contracted by the High Council of Regios Command—an elite task force operating beyond the jurisdiction of any single city. Their job was simple in writing but hell in practice: handle the things regular soldiers couldn't. Kaiju infestations, rogue A.I. swarms, black market G.E.A.R. theft, and the occasional diplomatic "problem" that needed to disappear quietly.
In the new world, mercenary divisions like Burst Angel were both saviors and sinners—freelancers in a system that had forgotten the meaning of peace. They were licensed killers, engineers, pilots, scavengers, and, occasionally, heroes—depending on who paid for the report.
The Burst Angels' reputation was infamous across the Regios circuit. They were known for taking high-risk jobs with low survival odds—and somehow always coming back. Rumor had it that Sei, their commander, once took down a Class-B Kaiju with nothing but two G.E.A.R.s, a mana cannon, and a very expensive bluff.
Their headquarters, Hangar 07, sat at the heart of Terra Nove's lower decks, wedged between cargo conduits and reactor vents. Rows of partially disassembled mechs lined the chamber—massive humanoid frames held aloft by crane arms, their plating scarred from countless missions. Sparks showered from welding torches while hydraulic presses groaned like beasts in slumber.
Every inch of the place screamed lived-in war zone.
This was where Jo, Meg, Amy, and Sei lived, worked, and sometimes slept—when there wasn't a Kaiju or a rival city gunning for their heads.
Jo stood and pulled on her jacket, the patch of a crimson winged skull stitched over her shoulder."Report," she said.
Sei flicked her wrist and brought up a projection in midair — a rotating holographic map of the sector. "We're entering the Everglow Expanse. Mana levels are stable, but seismic readings show new movement under the crust. Could be another Kaiju breach site."
"Joy," Amy muttered.
Meg perked up, instantly more alert. "You mean more scrap metal for me? Because that's what I heard."
"Try not to die collecting it this time," Jo said.
Through the viewing port at the far end of the room, the wasteland stretched forever — broken Earth veined with rivers of glowing blue mana, shattered cities half-buried under dunes of glass. Colossal wrecks of old G.E.A.R.s dotted the horizon, some still standing like rusted titans frozen in prayer, others crumpled and half-submerged.
In the distance, lightning rolled across a mana storm that painted the sky emerald.
Terra Nove lumbered forward, its colossal treads chewing through the bones of the old world.
"Same sky," Jo murmured. "Still burning."
Sei glanced her way. "You've been having the dreams again."
"Just memories," Jo said quietly. "Of the day we stopped dying and started adapting."
Sei nodded once, her tone unreadable. "Let's hope that holds."
Over the intercom, a distorted voice cut through the hum of the city:"Attention all field divisions — unregistered energy reading detected in the Mecha Graveyard zone. Coordinates uploaded. All recon teams prep for deployment."
Amy looked up sharply. "The Graveyard? That's miles outside the shield perimeter."
"Then someone's trespassing," Sei said, already typing commands into her wrist display. "Or something just woke up."
Meg's grin returned, sharp and eager. "Finally, some action."
Jo's gaze lingered on the projection — the blinking red marker deep within the skeletal ruins of old Earth's war machines.
"Gear up," she said, voice steady but low. "We're rolling out."
As the klaxons began to echo through the city, the Burst Angels moved in practiced rhythm — Jo tightening her gloves, Meg cracking her knuckles with a manic grin, Amy slinging her toolkit over her shoulder, and Sei's visor lighting with tactical overlays.
Outside, somewhere beneath a collapsed ridge of steel and ash, something stirred.
And a displaced teenager named Jaxon Hale was about to change everything.