Simon looks at the marching machines in the distance through his binoculars. He checks the scanner — 758 units, all sizes and types, advancing toward the Oasis, his home. It doesn't take long before they enter the range of the Hydra and Hawk sentries.
Devola, standing to his left, studies the holographic display.
"Took them long enough."
Popola nods.
"Defense grid synced. Hydra and Hawks ready — firing sequence Delta."
Simon nods once.
"Fire when I give the word."
They wait a few seconds.
"Fire."
"Roger," Devola replies. "Firing Hydra: frag missile salvo. Hydras one through ten: firing at the enemies."
The air erupts with the scream of rockets. Dozens of missiles arc skyward before descending in trails of fire. Explosions bloom across the dunes, shrapnel slicing through the ranks of the Machine army. Barriers shimmer as the machines attempt to block the barrage, but cracks spread, and gaps open — letting deadly fragments tear through their lines.
The smaller machines surge forward. They look almost toy-like, but they move with inhuman speed. While the missiles are busy taking care of the bulk of the marching army, the smaller machines charge forward and get closer to the wall. Firestrike sentries light up the dunes with plasma streaks; molten metal rains down like glass shards. Tarantula turrets roar, heavy bolters thundering in synchronized bursts.
The barriers around the smaller walkers appear and try to block the incoming attack, but they cannot block the number of bullets and plasma coming at them. The barrier gets torn apart, and the machines are destroyed.
"Vector one-five-two! Four medium-class machines tunneling under the sand!"
Popola's voice is sharp over comms. Simon frowns and orders five Hawks to focus-fire on the diggers. The laser cannons cut into the dunes, detonating the hidden threats in bursts of sand and flame.
"Threat neutralized," Popola confirms.
Before Simon can celebrate, the sky darkens — a swarm of fliers descends. There are hundreds of them, and their size varies.
"Hawks — air suppression pattern Gamma!" Popola shouts. She glances at her sister. "Devola! Protect Simon! Barrier at maximum output!"
"Roger!"
Devola leaps forward, manifesting a dome of shimmering light around them. Simon doesn't argue and instead focuses on the enemies above him. He hefts his heavy bolter, braces for recoil, and opens fire. The gun bucks against his arms as he tracks the fast-moving targets overhead.
All across the battlefield, Tarantulas, Firestrikes, and Hawks roar to life — plasma, lead, and laser carving through the sky. The enemies also fire plasma and lasers toward them. The sentry guns get hit by a hail of attack, but they are able to handle a lot of damage before falling down.
Devola focuses on the barrier, while Simon takes care of the medium fliers who do a lot of damage to his sentry. However, he gets distracted by a sound from the ground. He turns around and sees the ground.
Seeing more waves of machines getting close, he ordered the Tarantula to focus on the ground units, helping the Firestrike. Smoke covers the battlefield as the newly focused firepower is directed against the ground units.
However, he clicks his tongue when he sees medium walkers breach the smoke — towering shapes of molten steel, their armor glowing with heat. Some carry plasma mortars; others bear shield emitters that shimmer like glass domes.
"Adaptive shields," Simon mutters. "So they've learned."
The Machines reinforce their barriers, trading speed for resilience — but it still isn't enough against the sheer volume of fire from the sentry nest. Simon decides to push harder.
"Helios — synchronize ten Hydra pods. Overload pattern, full salvo."
His supercomputer obeys instantly. Ten Hydra launchers enter Overload Mode — faster reloads, shorter cooldowns. The ground trembles as every pod opens fire. Fifty-six missiles scream upward, split midair, and rain down in perfect formation. The detonations roll across the desert like thunder, tearing open shields and vaporizing the front lines.
Devola blows apart a medium-class flier with her bolter, calling out,
"Frontline thinning — but heavy signatures incoming!"
Simon looks into the distance and sees massive quadruped machines crest the dunes, walking fortresses armed with plasma cannons mounted on their backs. One fires — a bolt of energy slams into the outer wall, turning sand to glass. The structure holds, but cracks spider across its surface.
The wall holds, but another attack will create a hole.
"They're targeting the perimeter directly!" Popola shouts.
Simon grits his teeth. "Then we destroy them before they reach us."
He leaps from the wall into Ares — his personal command vehicle/battle tank. Switching to Battle Mode, he deactivates the fabricator systems to divert full power to combat functions. The drones carrying the fabricator enter the tank, and Aresis is ready for battle. The engine roars, and Simon can feel the vibrations shaking the seat.
"Devola! Clear the skies! Popola! Take the front — keep them off the gate!"
The twins don't hesitate. Devola's guns roar as she tears through the remaining fliers, while Popola directs the sentries to annihilate the ground assault trying to breach the gates.
With the gate area momentarily clear, Simon drives Ares forward — half of the tank emerging from the fortress. Targeting data floods his HUD as he locks onto the nearest giant.
The Bane Cannon fires.
A meter-long shell arcs across miles of desert and detonates against the walker's armor. The explosion shakes the ground, hurling sand and wreckage high enough to dim the sun for a heartbeat. Hydra missiles punch holes in its shield, and the cannon's shell slams through the breach, ripping metal apart.
Simon immediately reloads the cannon and activates the automated defence system of Ares.
The Bane Gatling Gun spins up next, a torrent of bolt ammo shredding small and mid-sized walkers. The machines firing their weapons and lasers hammer Ares in return, but its armor — reinforced and layered — holds. Fliers attempt kamikaze dives, only to be vaporized by the heavy bolter's defensive sweep.
One of the giant walkers retaliates with a beam of blue energy that hits Ares right in the front. The blast engulfs Ares. The tank groans under the pressure, metal creaking but refusing to yield. Simon can feel heat from the attack even when he is safe inside the tank.
"Simon!"
Devola and Popola's voices cry out in unison through the comm.
"I'm fine," Simon answers firmly. "Stay on task. Hull integrity is eighty-two percent and rising. I will be fine."
He reroutes energy back to the fabricator — ammunition floods into the Gatling chamber as the cabin fills with the scent of heated steel and ozone. The Bane Cannon fires again. This time, he focuses on the giant with the laser cannon on its back.
Bane Cannon continues to fire its shell, one after another, hitting the thick armor of the giant and ripping metal apart. After a few minutes of constant barrage, the large walker fell to the ground, unmoving.
"Simon! Two giants left!" Devola reports, now assisting Popola with suppressing fire. Together, they bombard the remaining walkers, hammering their shields with lasers and missiles.
Ares's next shell hits home. The walker's barrier fractures under the combined barrage; its hull bursts in a rolling chain of explosions. The sentries follow up immediately, saturating it with fire until nothing remains but glowing debris.
The last walker retaliates, railguns blazing. Sparks dance across Ares's armor as the projectiles strike. Popola and Devola shoot them midair, detonating shells before impact. Simon lines up one final shot — the Bane Cannon bellows again. The shell pierces the core. The explosion rocks the desert, and then — silence.
Only the hiss of cooling metal remains.
Popola checks her scanner and exhales.
"That's the last of them."
"No heat signatures left," Devola confirms. "Just wreckage."
Simon takes a long breath, then climbs out of Ares. Before he can fully steady himself, Devola and Popola rush him, nearly tackling him to the ground in their excitement. If not for his enhanced strength, his ribs might've cracked from their embrace.
He laughs and hugs them back. After a moment, he lets go and says,
"We won."
The twins grin widely and cheer with him.
Today marks the first day humanity wins against the Machine Lifeform.
And it won't be the last.