37: I think the scenery here is exceptionally beautiful.

[Holy Terra - Pan-Pacific Toxic Mire Sector - Upper Main Entrance of the Sunken Hive City 'archimedes']

D-01 liked this sound.

Aaaaannnggg—!!!

The engine of the Chainsword roared frantically on the brink of overload, its monomolecular serrations turning into an illusory silver blur due to the high-speed rotation.

When it sliced through the skull of a Scavenger Gang member—covered in slime and hardened skin—there was first a tooth-aching sound of bone shattering, followed by the wet, dull 'squelch' of flesh being violently torn apart.

Warm blood, thick with a chemical stench, splattered onto his helmet, trickling down through the cracks in his tactical visor before being instantly evaporated into a wisp of red smoke by the high temperature radiating from the power armor's reactor surface.

"Ha... haha..."

D-01 was laughing. His laughter transmitted through the communication channel's speaker like a burst of heavily damaged electrical static—hoarse, intermittent, yet filled with a madness bordering on collapse.

"Again! You sewer rats!" He lifted a heavy power boot and kicked the corpse in front of him away.

The massive hydraulic assist sent the remains crashing into the swarm of monsters behind like a cannonball, knocking down a large swath of snarling scavengers.

This was the upper main entrance of the Hive City, a vast, empty ancient plaza constructed of rusted adamantium and concrete.

But at this moment, it had turned into a meat grinder.

Thousands of Scavenger Gang members, like an endless black tide, poured out from the cracks of collapsed buildings in all directions.

And standing in their way were only twelve tottering, blood-soaked iron giants.

"Captain! Right wing! Three o'clock! Heavy units!" a brother's hoarse roar came through the communicator.

D-01 snapped his head around. He saw three 'Sludge Behemoths,' twice the size of ordinary scavengers, rumbling toward them while swinging giant hammers fashioned from sunken ship anchors.

"Good timing!"

Instead of dodging, D-01 charged forward to meet them.

Another hulking Thunder Warrior beside him, codenamed 'Iron Fist,' exchanged a look with him.

No words were needed.

It was a tacit understanding honed through countless battles in mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Boom!

The two of them simultaneously activated the short-range burst thrusters on their legs.

'Iron Fist' charged headlong like an armored rhino, slamming his helmet and shoulder guard directly into the chest of the middle behemoth.

Crack! The behemoth's thick sternum collapsed instantly, emitting a crisp sound like popping beans.

But 'Iron Fist' was also knocked back half a step by the massive recoil, as a string of blinding electrical sparks erupted from the knee joint of his power armor, which had clearly reached its limit.

And in that fraction of a second of stiffness.

D-01's figure flickered out from behind 'Iron Fist' like a ghost.

Utilizing the opportunity created by his brother, his Chainsword traced a lethal arc, precisely slicing through the exposed necks of the other two behemoths.

Heads soared into the air as black blood geysered out.

This was the tactic of the Thunder Warriors.

No sophisticated coordination, no complex cover.

Only an exchange of equal value based on absolute trust and savage courage—trading injuries for lives.

Compared to the older generation.

There was no fundamental difference between these First Legion warriors and ordinary Thunder Warriors.

But their numbers were too few.

And the enemies... were endless.

"Ammunition depleted!"

"Servo-hydraulic pressure too low! Left arm power offline!" In the communication channel, the breathing of the brothers grew heavier—it was the sound of life force rapidly draining away.

D-01's vision also began to go dark in waves.

He knew they were reaching their limit.

Perhaps this was the final, most glorious grave the Emperor had prepared for them.

Just then.

A low rumble, like the heartbeat of a deep-sea leviathan, suddenly came from the other side of the plaza, drowning out all the sounds of slaughter.

Vroom—Vroom—Vroom—

Everyone subconsciously stopped their actions and looked toward the source of the sound.

On the surface of that murky, fluorescent toxic sea, three massive black shadows were breaking the water, slowly rising and bringing up waterfalls of sludge.

They weren't ships. They were three dieselpunk-style... submarines, covered in massive rivets and rust.

On the hulls of the submarines was painted a ferocious emblem composed of a trident and a shark skull—[Pan-Pacific Empire].

The hatches of the submarines opened accompanied by gouts of steam.

A group of soldiers wearing heavy, cumbersome metal armor resembling old-fashioned deep-sea diving suits filed out.

In their hands, they held not lasguns, but massive 'pneumatic rivet guns' and 'harpoon launchers,' with the gun bodies connected to humming high-pressure gas tanks.

"This place... is quite lively."

The Commander at the lead had a helmet like a giant brass fishbowl; through the thick glass, his pale, bloated face could be seen.

He looked at the Thunder Warriors and Scavenger Gang locked in a chaotic melee on the plaza and let out a dull, mocking voice modified by sonar.

"A bunch of muscle-heads and a pack of uncivilized mutant beasts, fighting over a broken tin can?"

The Commander's gaze fell greedily upon the entrance of the Hive City. "It seems the Sea God favors us today. Brothers, clear the field."

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

The high-pressure gas tanks roared.

Countless giant barbed harpoons and red-hot rivets shot toward the battlefield like a rainstorm.

Their targeting was indiscriminate.

The flesh and blood of the Scavenger Gang members in front were as fragile as paper before the industrial-grade piercing tools. Instantly, a bloody clearing was carved out in the battlefield.

The Scavenger Gang's lines collapsed.

They shrieked, abandoned the corpses of their comrades, and fled back into the dark depths of the Hive City.

On the plaza, only the twelve solitary Thunder Warriors and the group of well-equipped, ill-intentioned 'Deep Sea Fishermen' who had emerged from the submarines remained.

D-01 panted heavily, stabbing his Chainsword into the ground to support his tottering body.

He looked at this new group of enemies, at their eyes filled with greed and killing intent.

"Ha..." He laughed. There was no despair in that smile, only an excitement as if he had finally reached the 'main course'.

"Iron Fist, you take the left, I'll take the right." D-01 regripped the hilt, his knuckles turning white.

"Let's see if their harpoons are harder, or our bones!"

The battle erupted once more.

But this time, the Thunder Warriors were no longer facing a disorganized rabble.

The soldiers of the Pan-Pacific Empire were well-trained; they formed a tight shield wall, using massive diving-bell-style shields to block the slashes of the Chainswords while using rivet guns to fire precisely at the joints of the power armor.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Sparks flew. D-01 felt as if every one of his attacks was striking a massive, oil-slicked anvil—slippery and resilient.

At the same time, several red-hot rivets struck his knee joint. Though they failed to penetrate the Ceramite, the massive kinetic energy and high temperature caused his already damaged joint to seize up completely.

It was in this moment of stagnation that the opposing Commander seized the opportunity.

"'Sea God's Wrath,' prepare."

Two Pan-Pacific soldiers set up a massive heavy weapon similar to a whaling cannon.

The barrel was loaded not with a shell, but with a massive, high-speed rotating drill bit equipped with a propeller.

Vroom—!!!

The drill bit began to accelerate, emitting a piercing roar.

"Captain! Get out of the way!"

'Iron Fist' roared, trying to rush over to support him.

But it was too late.

The massive drill bit, trailing a thick chain, whistled out.

Its target was not D-01's body, but the ground beneath his feet!

Boom!

The drill bit bored savagely into the already fragile surface of the plaza.

Accompanied by a violent vibration and collapse, the ground beneath D-01's feet shattered instantly, and he plummeted toward the bottomless abyss of the Hive City below!

"No—!!!"

'Iron Fist' let out a desperate roar.

But D-01 did not. In the moment of falling, he even had time to give that brass fishbowl helmet an ancient, standard gesture of contempt.

He knew his battle had temporarily ended.

But the roar of thunder never dies... Meanwhile, at the other end of the Hive City, in the lowest sewage pipes.

On C-19's tactical visor, the red life signal representing D-01 flickered violently several times before disappearing completely.

Next were the other eleven.

"They..." a 'Dark Ravens' initiate's voice was somewhat dry.

"They completed their mission." C-19's voice remained steady, without any ripple, like an emotionless logic engine.

"They bought us precious time and drew everyone's attention."

He looked up at the rust-stained sealed door ahead that led to the 'Tech Archives'.

"Now, it's our turn."

"Don't let them... sacrifice themselves in vain."

C-19 took a piece of grey plastic explosive from his waist and stuck it to the door lock.

For the Empire.

For survival.