Though the Luvina Empire had great confidence in its current air combat forces—confident enough to confront anything short of orbital warships—their past had been scarred by devastating defeats at the hands of Dazilet's aerial power. That experience left a lasting impression on Luvinan commanders, who developed the habit of deploying excessive anti-air defenses at every key strategic facility. The airport now caught in fierce fighting was no exception. Here, even the 130mm anti-aircraft gun was considered standard equipment. Elsewhere across the facility, 40mm, 30mm, and 25mm autocannons—mounted singly or in dual and triple configurations—dotted the landscape, creating a defense so dense that even a mosquito would struggle to get through.
Sennia injected herself with Type-3 beforehand and quickly spun the elevation and traverse cranks to level the anti-air gun for direct fire. She adjusted the barrel to align the fifteen Lexomancers into her gunsight. At such close range, hitting them was no challenge. The damage she could inflict now depended solely on how fast she could reload.
Boom—!
She yanked the firing lanyard. The first shell exploded from the barrel, kicking up a storm of dust as the high-pressure gases slammed into the ground. Even with the gun braced, it still jolted backward slightly. Unprotected, Sennia winced as the thunderous boom rattled her skull. She shook her head and left her mouth open, a trick she'd learned from old artillerymen who were half-deaf from years of cannon fire.
Downrange, the high-velocity shell tore through the Lexomancers' magical shield with ease and struck the ground at their feet. The explosion's shockwave and shrapnel tore through their ranks. At least half were caught in the blast. The one closest to the detonation was blown skyward, a mangled body trailing smoke, tumbling several seconds through the air before landing in a heap.
Sennia didn't pause. She recalibrated the gun, loaded another 28-kilogram shell, inserted the primer—
Boom—!
Another round. This time, the remaining eight Lexomancers braced themselves. They combined their spells to raise a stronger barrier, one that successfully drained the shell of its kinetic energy. It dropped harmlessly to the ground, rolling toward their feet.
They stared at the metal cylinder, relieved they'd blocked it. What they didn't know was that this shell had a timed fuse—three seconds. Sennia had anticipated they might block a shot like they did bullets. She had adjusted accordingly.
The shell exploded.
When the smoke cleared, only three Lexomancers were still standing.
"Here's the box you wanted-hsss!"
Inaya dropped the crate, just as Sennia fired again. The black-furred girl flinched. She'd stayed away earlier, spooked by the thunderous reports. She thought Sennia had been done, but just as she approached—boom!
"Thanks," Sennia said without turning.
She popped open the crate, set the fuse timer, and—with remarkable strength—loaded another shell into the breach single-handedly. Her movements were practiced, fluid. Shell, propellant, primer, close, lock—
Boom—!
The fourth shell landed dead center. This time, Sennia was sure. The Lexomancers were finished.
"That one over there—she yours?"
With the magic users eliminated, pressure on the Night Knights eased considerably. Rogm had enough breathing room to talk.
"She is..."
Otto was a little stunned himself. He hadn't expected Sennia to be this capable.
"Damn, that girl's got some fight in her!"
Rogm exhaled, satisfied. His platoon had borne the brunt of the casualties in this battle. Now that the longblade warriors lacked magical support, he could finally cut them down and even the score.
"Trenchap! Get the pilots and bring the transport around!"
With the tide turning, Otto wasted no time issuing new orders. They couldn't leave the hundred-plus prisoners standing around.
Sennia, meanwhile, stood down. With the Lexomancers gone, her 130mm gun was no longer practical in the melee.
"You okay?"
Inaya was writhing on the ground, clutching her ears. Having four of them meant the blasts hit her even harder.
"No! No, I am not okay!"
Her cries made Sennia wince in sympathy.
"Can't you heal yourself or something?"
"Not for this!!"
Inaya began banging her head on the ground in frustration. Eventually, she stopped moving entirely.
"Hey, seriously, are you alright?"
Sennia knelt beside her, tugging on Inaya's limp tail.
No response.
On the battlefield, the fifteen longblade warriors had been reduced to five. They now stood in a circle, surrounded by over twenty Night Knights from three platoons. A tense standoff ensued.
Nemilic moved first. He pulled two grenades from his belt and lobbed them into the circle. The longblade warriors, unfamiliar with grenades, sensed danger and acted—charging together in a single direction to break the encirclement.
Otto, in their path, raised his sword. His submachine gun, ruined earlier while deflecting a blow, was useless. He'd picked up a longblade from a fallen enemy. Unfamiliar as he was with the weapon, it was still better than his combat knife.
Boom—!
Nemilic's grenades exploded behind them as the warriors reached Otto. He blocked one strike, parried another. The remaining three clashed with nearby Night Knights, their attacks swift and deadly, hoping to break through before reinforcements could close in.
Shatiel and Rogm rushed in to support, followed by others. The breakout attempt failed. The five longblade warriors were forced back into close combat.
Rogm fought differently. His submachine gun had a curved axe-bayonet underneath—perfect for brutal trench warfare. That same axe had seen him through many battles, but now, its edge was chipped. In a clash with one of the longblade warriors, the axehead had snapped.
Still, Rogm fought on, wielding the broken weapon with fierce agility. He dodged, countered, and waited for an opening.
Now!
A nearby Night Knight disrupted a warrior's rhythm, drawing a hasty low thrust. Rogm sidestepped and kicked the blade mid-air, trying to drive it into the ground. Before the enemy could recover, Rogm swung at his arm.
The warrior dodged by abandoning his weapon.
"What now, huh? Gonna fight barehanded?"
Rogm yanked the longblade from the dirt, mocking.
The warrior didn't respond, simply resetting his stance, ready to continue.
Rogm respected that.
Elsewhere, Otto, Nordhausen, and several others had managed to take down two more. When they turned, they saw Shatiel.
She was a whirlwind, dual-wielding captured longblades, trading furious blows with the last two warriors. No one dared interfere. No matter which angle the warriors attacked from, Shatiel parried and countered. Her movements were so fast, even Otto and Nordhausen—with Type-3 in their veins—struggled to follow. Otto was now certain: in their previous skirmishes, Shatiel had been holding back.
"We should help Rogm..."
Otto had learned enough by now—ordinary Night Knights stood no chance one-on-one against judgment cells. That was a tier of combat beyond him. With Sennia, Inaya, and maybe Shatiel... his squad was anything but ordinary.
"No need. It's over."
They turned to see Rogm walking toward them.
"That girl—she one of yours too?"
He'd just witnessed Shatiel's ferocity.
"Yup."
Otto shrugged. He'd come to accept it.
"You've got a damn strong squad."
Rogm looked almost envious.
"Tell me about it. Half the time I don't know if I can keep them under control..."