The chamber pulsed with red light, metal walls shaking with the weight of distant gunfire. The air smelled of smoke and steel.
At the center stood the fortress commander — a mountain of a man clad in jagged armor, rifle in one hand, a massive blade in the other. His eyes burned with fury.
Behind Arata, his unit staggered in. Mud-soaked, bloodied, half-dead. Aya clutched her arm, trembling but unable to look away from him. Haruto's breathing was ragged. Riku's hatred practically hissed in the air. Sayaka and Ren… they were staring at Arata with something closer to awe.
The commander roared, voice shaking the steel.
"You sacrificed your own soldiers to get here. That makes you filth. That makes you a coward. And cowards—"
Arata tilted his head, smiling faintly. "Cowards don't win wars. I do."
The commander charged, blade swinging. The air cracked under the weight of it. The battalion panicked, scattering back. Aya screamed.
But Arata didn't move.
He stepped aside with casual precision, like he'd seen the strike before it happened. The blade smashed into the floor, sparks flying.
And in that frozen moment, Arata raised his rifle, pressed it against the gap in the commander's armor—
BANG.
The shot echoed like a verdict.
The commander staggered, clutching his chest. But he didn't fall. He swung again, fury burning.
Arata's smile widened. "Oh, good. You're not just a brute. This will be fun."
What followed wasn't a fight. It was a dismantling.
Every strike, every roar, every desperate move — Arata was already two steps ahead. He danced around the blows, pulling the commander deeper into his rhythm. His voice cut through the chamber, calm and sharp, as if narrating a game only he could see.
"You rely on strength. Predictable. You lose balance on your left side — sloppy. You overcommit when angry. Easy to provoke. You're not a commander. You're a pawn pretending to be king."
BANG. Another shot grazed the commander's arm.
BANG. Another tore into his leg.
The giant roared, but it was no longer the roar of a predator. It was the cry of prey realizing it had already lost.
Finally, Arata stepped behind him, pressed the rifle to the back of his head, and whispered softly, almost tenderly:
"Checkmate."
BANG.
The commander collapsed.
The chamber fell silent.
No one spoke. No one breathed.
Then, the voice boomed overhead:
"Fortress breached. Battalion survival rate: 11%.
Phase Three complete. Proceeding to Final Phase."
The fortress walls rumbled. Lights flickered. The entire battlefield began to shift again.
But the unit's eyes weren't on the fortress anymore. They were on Arata.
Aya clung to him with trembling devotion, whispering, "Arata-kun…" as if begging him never to leave.
Sayaka's lips curled in a smirk. "Monstrous… and brilliant."
Ren giggled, licking blood from her knife. "You're everything I wanted."
Haruto stared with horror and loyalty twisted into knots.
Riku whispered with venom, "You're not human."
And Arata?
He wiped the smoke from his rifle, his smile calm and razor-sharp.
"I never said I was."