Earth–PLANT Transit Route
Stars drifted in silence as the shuttle cut through space.
Its hull markings had been hastily scrubbed, transponder codes falsified—yet none of that mattered anymore. Anyone important enough already knew who was inside.
Edward Harrelson — Earth Alliance fugitive.
Bernadette Leroux — PLANT investigative reporter.
And both of them knew far too much.
"Escort formation holding," Morgan Chevalier reported calmly from the cockpit of his TS-MA4F Exus, the sleek mobile armor drifting protectively alongside the shuttle. "No unusual signatures so far."
Riika Sheder's ZGMF-1001/M Blaze ZAKU Phantom hovered on the opposite flank, her tone sharp. "Let's keep it that way. I don't like this route."
Then space screamed.
A crimson-and-white machine burst from sensor blind space, thrusters flaring with unnatural efficiency. Its silhouette was wrong—too sharp, too refined, its frame radiating menace even before the systems finished resolving.
"Contact!" Riika snapped. "Unknown Mobile Suit—no, wait—ID confirmed!"
Her display froze on the designation.
ZGMF-YX21R — Proto-Saviour.
Morgan's jaw tightened. "So Librarian finally sent one of them."
Inside the Proto-Saviour's cockpit, Ile de Llorar smiled faintly.
"Edward Harrelson," he said calmly over an open channel. "And Bernadette Leroux. Please remain seated. Your shuttle is… fragile."
Riika surged forward. "Unidentified unit, stand down immediately! This is a ZAFT-sanctioned escort—!"
Ile didn't even look at her.
The Proto-Saviour moved.
Beam fire erupted, forcing Morgan to interpose his Exus as Riika was driven back by sheer pressure. Ile's movements were precise, almost clinical—each maneuver stripping away options, forcing reactions.
"Damn it—he's ignoring you!" Morgan shouted.
"That's because you're not the real problem," Ile replied coolly. "You're just the curtain."
The Proto-Saviour pivoted, locking briefly onto the shuttle.
Bernadette's voice broke through the shuttle's internal comms. "Edward… tell me that's not—"
"There's a bomb on your shuttle," Ile said flatly. "Remote-triggered. Quantum-locked. Elegant, really."
Morgan's blood ran cold.
"So that's it," he muttered. "They're not extracting them… they're erasing them."
Riika boosted hard, charging straight at Ile. "I won't let you—!"
"Riika, stop!" Morgan barked. "STAY BACK!"
Too late.
Ile raised one hand.
A pulse rippled outward—not energy, not light, but something colder. Riika's ZAKU froze mid-boost, systems collapsing in cascading failures.
"My machine—!" Riika gasped. "Controls aren't responding!"
"Quantum-virus deployment complete," Ile said calmly. "Your computer architecture was… disappointingly standard."
Morgan swore and deployed his Gunbarrels, the autonomous units fanning out in a lethal swarm.
"Then choke on this!"
The Gunbarrels opened fire.
Ile didn't retreat.
The Proto-Saviour shifted—armor plates sliding, frame reconfiguring with terrifying fluidity. In seconds, the Mobile Suit became a mobile armor, its silhouette elongated, thrusters multiplying.
"Circus graduate," Ile said quietly. "Failure is not an option."
He surged forward.
One by one, Morgan's Gunbarrels were annihilated—shot down, bisected, crushed by sheer velocity. Morgan barely avoided a killing blow, the Exus spinning helplessly away.
The Proto-Saviour locked onto the shuttle.
"End of the performance," Ile said.
Then—
A beam ripped across space.
"Break off, Librarian unit!"
A new Mobile Suit cut between Ile and the shuttle—white Astray frame gleaming, its MBF-M1 M1 Astray fitted with a refashioned Verne 35A/MPFM Multipurpose Flight Module, wings blazing with controlled thrust.
Jean Carry.
His rifle barked again, forcing Ile to disengage.
"This is Junk Guild territory now," Jean said firmly. "Power down and surrender."
For the first time, Ile frowned.
"Tch. Complications."
A private channel opened in his cockpit.
> "That's enough, Ile."
The voice was smooth. Absolute.
> "Withdraw."
"Matisse…" Ile clicked his tongue, casting one last look at the shuttle. "Very well."
The Proto-Saviour boosted away, vanishing into the darkness with surgical precision.
Silence returned—broken only by damaged systems and heavy breathing.
Morgan steadied his Exus. "You two… you're lucky."
Jean glanced toward the shuttle, eyes narrowing.
"Luck had nothing to do with it," he said quietly. "This war's moving into places no one can control anymore."
Far away, unseen, Librarian Works adjusted its plans.
And across the Earth Sphere—from Panama Base to drifting junk fields—the threads were tightening.
Kyousuke Asagi had not yet heard the name Proto-Saviour.
But soon—
He would.
Panama Base
Three Hours Before Launch
Rain tapped softly against the hangar roof, a steady rhythm that echoed through the vast chamber.
Kyousuke Asagi stood beside his Strike Dagger as technicians completed final checks. The machine's armor bore fresh scuffs from the Caribbean battle—marks that no amount of maintenance could fully erase. He ran a hand along the shield's edge, grounding himself in the cold reality of steel.
"Still staring at it like it might answer you back?"
Kyousuke turned. Captain Marcus Hale approached, flight jacket slung loosely over one shoulder, expression unreadable.
"Just thinking," Kyousuke replied. "About how fast everything's moving."
Hale snorted quietly. "Welcome to the real war."
He tapped the datapad in his hand. "Orders just came down from high command. You and I are being reassigned—effective immediately."
Kyousuke stiffened. "Reassigned?"
"Earth orbit," Hale said. "We're transferring to an Agamemnon-class refit. Callsign—Beowulf."
Kyousuke's eyes widened slightly. "A refit…?"
"Upgraded command-and-control suite, expanded hangar capacity, experimental sensor arrays," Hale explained. "They're consolidating assets. Too many unknowns moving at once."
Kyousuke understood what that really meant.
Librarian Works.
Serpent Tail.
Junk Guild.
ZAFT.
And now something even deeper.
"When do we depart?" Kyousuke asked.
Hale glanced toward the ceiling, where the distant rumble of launch elevators echoed.
"She's already waiting for us."
---
Earth Orbit
Agamemnon-class Refit — BEOWULF
The Beowulf hung against the curve of Earth like an ancient predator awakened from myth.
Its frame was unmistakably Agamemnon-class—long, brutal, and functional—but the refit had transformed it. Reinforced armor plating gleamed under sunlight, sensor clusters bristled along its spine, and its engines burned with a steady, controlled power that spoke of endurance rather than speed.
Kyousuke watched through the transport's viewport as they approached.
"So that's our new home," he murmured.
"For now," Hale replied. "Try not to get attached."
The docking clamps engaged with a heavy thud.
As Kyousuke stepped onto the Beowulf's deck, he felt it immediately—the tension in the air. This ship wasn't preparing for routine operations.
It was preparing for something inevitable.
---
Elsewhere
Unknown Coordinates | Deep Space
The Girty Lue-class warship drifted in darkness, its hull absorbing light rather than reflecting it. No identification marks. No transponder. Only silence and intent.
On the bridge, two figures sat side by side.
One reclined casually, fingers interlaced, eyes sharp with amusement.
Matisse.
The other stood at the viewport, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on the distant glow of Earth.
Matias.
"The pieces are moving faster than expected," Matisse said lightly. "OMNI's repositioning. Serpent Tail is sniffing around our operations. Junk Guild interfered."
Matias did not turn.
"That is acceptable," he replied calmly. "Friction accelerates evolution."
A holographic map flared to life, showing intersecting vectors—fleets, Mobile Suits, individuals marked with subtle emphasis.
Kyousuke Asagi's name flickered briefly… then faded.
"The Librarian's legacy has done its job," Matias continued. "But the era of hidden observation is ending."
Matisse smiled. "So we step onto the stage at last?"
"In time," Matias said. "Not yet."
He turned at last, eyes cold and unwavering.
"We do not seek dominion," Matias said. "We seek selection. Those who can adapt will survive. Those who cannot… will be archived."
The Girty Lue's engines pulsed faintly.
"Carbon Humans. Prototype machines. Conflicts layered atop conflicts," Matisse mused. "And in the middle—ordinary pilots forced to evolve or die."
Matias allowed himself a thin smile.
"History has always been written that way."
Far away, aboard the Beowulf, Kyousuke Asagi looked out at Earth, unaware that his life was already being weighed by unseen eyes.
The stage was set.
And the next act would not spare the unprepared.
Earth Orbit | Agamemnon-class Refit "BEOWULF"
The boarding hatch sealed behind them with a heavy clang.
Kyousuke felt it in his bones—the difference between a base and a warship. Panama had been loud, chaotic, alive. The Beowulf was quiet in a way that suggested discipline honed by long deployments and battles never recorded in public logs.
A pair of armed guards snapped to attention as Captain Hale and Kyousuke stepped onto the main corridor.
"Captain Hale," one announced. "The bridge is expecting you."
They walked in silence, passing crew members who moved with practiced efficiency—technicians carrying data slates, officers murmuring into comms, mechanics with grease-stained sleeves and tired eyes. No one stared, but Kyousuke felt their attention nonetheless.
So this is where the war really gathers its teeth, he thought.
---
Bridge — BEOWULF
The bridge doors slid open.
Kyousuke's breath caught for just a fraction of a second.
The bridge of the Beowulf was vast, layered in tiers like an ancient amphitheater. Holographic star charts hovered above the central pit, Earth dominating the main display. Every console pulsed with life—sensor feeds, fleet movements, encrypted channels.
At the center stood a woman in a dark-blue captain's coat, silver trim catching the light.
She turned as they entered.
"Captain Marcus Hale," she said. "About time you arrived."
Hale straightened. "Captain Helena Brandt, commanding officer of the Agamemnon-class refit Beowulf."
Brandt's eyes shifted to Kyousuke.
"And you must be Second Lieutenant Kyousuke Asagi," she said. "Orb-born. OMNI transfer. Caribbean survivor."
Kyousuke snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am."
She studied him for a moment longer than necessary, then nodded.
"Relax," Brandt said. "If you made it out of that mess alive, you've earned the right to breathe."
A faint ripple of amusement moved across the bridge crew.
Brandt gestured around her. "Welcome aboard the Beowulf. We're a rapid-response task unit. We don't chase flags—we chase problems."
Kyousuke glanced at Hale, who smirked slightly.
---
Hangar Deck
Minutes later, Kyousuke found himself standing on the hangar deck beside Hale.
The scale of it dwarfed Panama's facilities.
Mobile Suits lined the bay in disciplined rows—some standard, some anything but.
He recognized Daggers, Windams, and at least one heavily modified unit with additional sensor fins and reinforced joints. These weren't parade machines.
"These are Beowulf's teeth," Hale said quietly.
A group of pilots approached.
Leading them was a tall man with dark skin and graying hair, flight suit unzipped at the collar.
"Captain Hale," he said. "Long time."
"Commander Isaac Rowan," Hale replied, clasping his forearm. "Still scaring rookies?"
Rowan chuckled. "Only the ones who survive."
Rowan turned to Kyousuke. "You must be the new blood everyone's whispering about."
Kyousuke blinked. "Sir?"
"Relax," Rowan said. "On this ship, rank matters less than whether you can cover someone's blind spot."
Another pilot stepped forward—a woman with sharp eyes and short crimson hair.
"Lieutenant Maya Feld," she said. "Sniper unit."
She tilted her head slightly. "Orb-born, huh? That explains the way you flew."
Kyousuke felt his ears warm. "Is that… bad?"
She smirked. "Means you don't waste motion."
A younger pilot with a nervous grin waved from behind them. "Ensign Leo Vargas. Don't worry—I'm not that scary."
"Yet," Rowan muttered.
Laughter rippled through the group.
Hale folded his arms. "Listen up. Asagi's attached to my wing. Treat him like one of your own."
Rowan's gaze sharpened. "Then that means if he screws up—"
"I correct him," Hale finished.
"And if he saves your life?" Maya asked.
Hale didn't hesitate. "Then he earns it."
Kyousuke felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.
Not belonging.
But the possibility of it.
---
Later — Observation Deck
Kyousuke stood alone, staring at Earth slowly rotating below.
"So," Brandt's voice said from behind him, "how does it feel?"
Kyousuke turned. "Ma'am?"
"To be standing on a ship that's about to get very busy."
He thought for a moment. "Like I'm already late to something important."
Brandt smiled faintly. "Good answer."
She stepped beside him. "The Beowulf exists because conventional command structures can't keep up anymore. Too many factions. Too many secrets."
Her eyes reflected the planet below.
"And pilots like you," she continued, "are exactly why this ship was refitted."
Kyousuke swallowed. "Because I'm… expendable?"
Brandt shook her head.
"Because you adapt."
She turned away. "Get some rest, Asagi. The storm hasn't reached us yet—but it will."
As Kyousuke watched Earth drift silently below, one truth became clear:
The Beowulf was not just a ship.
It was a crossroads.
And Kyousuke Asagi had just stepped fully into the war that would decide far more than who controlled the skies.
The room lights were dimmed to night-cycle levels.
Kyousuke Asagi sat cross-legged on his bunk, datapad hovering above his palm as lines of technical text scrolled past. Outside the small viewport, Earth drifted slowly, uncaring and impossibly distant.
> PHASE SHIFT ARMOR — TECHNICAL OVERVIEW
Kyousuke exhaled softly.
"So this is the difference," he murmured.
He'd seen it in combat—rounds sparking uselessly off ZAFT Gundams, ballistic fire that should have torn armor apart instead dispersing like rain against stone. But seeing it written so clinically made it feel even more unfair.
Phase Shift—PS armor—wasn't armor in the traditional sense.
It was electricity.
An electrically energized armor system that altered the molecular behavior of the suit's surface, drastically reducing damage from all physical attacks. In practical terms, it made Mobile Suits virtually immune to solid-body weapons—shells, knives, shrapnel, even ramming attacks.
Kyousuke scrolled further.
Manufacturing: Microgravity only.
Activation: Distinct hissing sound.
Visual change: Neutral gray → colored overlay.
He remembered the sound now—the faint hiss just before a Gundam moved, like a predator drawing breath.
"The color's adjustable…" he muttered, reading. "Armor Voltage parameters."
So it wasn't just aesthetics. It was tuning—balancing protection against energy draw.
His finger paused as another line appeared.
> Once activated, PS armor requires a continuous flow of energy. Power consumption spikes sharply whenever the unit is struck.
Kyousuke leaned back against the wall.
"Nothing's free," he said quietly.
A memory surfaced—ZAFT commander Andrew Waltfeld, calmly analyzing the Strike Gundam mid-battle. According to his calculations, the GAT-X105 Strike could withstand approximately seventy-six ballistic hits before its battery was completely drained.
Seventy-six.
That number stuck with Kyousuke.
"So even Phase Shift breaks," he whispered.
It didn't fail all at once. It was worn down—hit by hit, drain by drain—until the battery couldn't sustain it anymore. And once PS armor powered down, the suit became just another machine.
Vulnerable.
Kyousuke scrolled again.
> Beam weapons can overpower Phase Shift armor more quickly than ballistic weapons due to higher energy drain.
His jaw tightened.
Which meant OMNI's beam rifles—his beam rifle—weren't just weapons.
They were counters.
But the datapad wasn't finished.
> In the event of power failure—caused by prolonged operation or sustained beam damage—PS armor deactivates completely, leaving the Mobile Suit vulnerable to even minimal physical attacks.
Kyousuke closed his eyes.
He could already picture it: a Gundam, once untouchable, suddenly exposed—cut down by something as simple as a knife or a stray shell.
War was cruel like that.
He reopened the file.
> Thermal resistance: Extremely high. Phase Shift armor can protect against intense heat, enabling atmospheric reentry.
That explained it.
Why Gundams fell from the sky like meteors and still fought afterward.
Still, one line at the bottom unsettled him the most.
> Upper limit of Phase Shift armor durability: UNKNOWN.
Kyousuke let out a slow breath.
Unknown limits. Unknown enemies. Unknown futures.
Then the datapad shifted to an advanced subsection.
> Phase Shift Inner Frame Applications
His eyebrows rose.
Phase Shift wasn't just surface armor.
Some machines—monsters, really—used PS on inner frame components. The Strike Freedom, ∞ Justice, Destiny. Machines built beyond reason.
Phase-shifted inner frames increased durability and flexibility, allowing the machine to bend and move under stresses that would snap ordinary frames apart. When excess residual energy built up inside the body, those inner frame parts could even glow, discharging power like living veins of light.
Kyousuke stared at the schematic.
"So that's what perfection looks like," he whispered.
Not just armor. Not just weapons.
A system that turned the Mobile Suit itself into a living conduit of energy.
He powered down the datapad and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
"My Strike Dagger doesn't have Phase Shift," he said softly to the empty room. "One good hit, and that's it."
Yet he'd survived.
Against ZAKUs.
Against stealth Gundams.
Against machines born from forbidden data.
Kyousuke clenched his fist.
"Then it's not the armor that decides everything."
Outside, Earth turned silently on.
And somewhere out there—behind PS armor, behind beam shields and glowing frames—were pilots who relied on their machines to make them untouchable.
Kyousuke Asagi wasn't one of them.
And as the Beowulf continued its slow patrol, he began to understand a quiet, dangerous truth:
Phase Shift armor could protect a Mobile Suit.
But it was the pilot who decided how long that protection lasted.