The mechanical hum of Luna Base was the rhythm of survival. Every corridor echoed with footsteps, every hangar filled with the sound of tools biting into metal. Engineers patched wounds on mobile suits that would soon return to die again.
Jason Arkadi stood on the observation deck, staring out at the barren gray of the lunar surface. Beyond that horizon lay the void — the battlefield of gods and fools alike.
He had seen the reports.
Zeon's second assault on Jaburo had failed. Lelouch von Zehrtfeld's strike force had come within reach of the Federation's heart, only to retreat under heavy losses. The data feed replayed the encounter frame by frame — a black Zaku II outmaneuvering GM squads, a red Dom cutting through the jungle, a Gogg collapsing under explosions. And then…
A single invisible beam tearing through the battlefield.
Jason paused the recording, zooming in on the faint shimmer of optical camouflage.
> "Blitz Gundam…" he murmured. "Another impossible variable."
He tapped his datapad, scrolling through the ever-growing list of anomalies. Five Gundams. Different generations. Different worlds. Each using technologies that should never coexist.
He had seen enough to understand one thing — this wasn't coincidence.
"Director Arkadi," a voice called from behind. One of his assistants, a young technician, saluted nervously. "Lady Tanya's fleet has departed Luna orbit. She requested the GED unit's Zudahs be recalibrated for reentry compatibility before transfer to Solomon."
Jason nodded, still watching the flickering data. "Do it. And check the reactor coils again — if we lose thrust mid-transit, the entire formation will scatter."
"Yes, sir!"
When the door slid shut, Jason leaned against the console. The air in the control room felt too heavy — or maybe that was just his thoughts.
He couldn't deny it any longer.
He wasn't the only one.
---
His "mechanic system," the strange interface that had guided him since his arrival in this world, hadn't lied. It told him he was a Transmigrator: one who builds, repairs, and upgrades in exchange for knowledge. A passive observer who shapes the battlefield through machinery.
But lately, he'd begun noticing irregularities — distortions that didn't belong. Mobile suits appearing where no data existed, new technologies appearing without R&D tracebacks, and most recently… people.
Not reincarnated like him. Summoned.
He closed his eyes, replaying the last three months:
Lelouch, the tactician whose mind could outplay generals.
Tanya, the soldier whose hatred of god bordered on prophecy.
General Griveous, a cyborg who shouldn't even exist in this galaxy.
They were all anomalies — summoned, not born here.
But Lelouch and Tanya maybe reincarnated because all data about them in this world is complete not like Griveous suddenly Created to become Newtype Predator.
Jason clenched his fist. "Someone is doing this. Someone with a system that can call beings across timelines."
His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it filled the room.
He opened his system console, the faint blue holographic text flickering above his wrist.
> [Mechanic System]
Passive: Blueprint Analysis
Active: Dimensional Stabilization – Locked (Requires Level 5)
The "locked" line pulsed slowly, taunting him. He had never been able to reach it — no matter how many machines he repaired, or how many mobile suits he designed. But the term itself — Dimensional Stabilization — told him enough.
This world wasn't stable.
And if he couldn't stabilize it, someone else was controlling the instability.
He typed a command, cross-referencing energy readings from Jaburo, Odessa, and the latest lunar scans. The results appeared in bursts of light: matching signatures, identical patterns of spatial disturbance.
> "So," Jason whispered, "whoever's doing this… they're pulling strings across every front."
---
He walked slowly through the hangar, past lines of Zudahs gleaming under cold fluorescent light. The models had been perfected under his watch — no more reactor explosions, no instability, just pure, efficient speed. Jason's touch had made them real.
A passing mechanic saluted him. "Sir, Zudah unit four is ready for deployment. Commander Char's custom version is fully tuned."
Jason gave a faint nod. "Good. The Red Comet deserves precision, not myth."
The mechanic hesitated. "Sir… do you think we can still win?"
Jason smiled — not kindly, but with weary irony. "Winning doesn't matter. Understanding does."
The mechanic blinked, unsure of what that meant. Jason turned away before explaining.
---
As he returned to the control deck, his mind turned over the fragments again.
A summoner. That's what it had to be.
Someone with a Summoning System, parallel to his own.
Someone treating this war like a grand experiment — or worse, a game.
Maybe it was a player who wanted chaos.
Maybe it was a god testing fates.
Or maybe… it was Being X, reaching across systems.
He shook his head. "No. Tanya would've sensed that bastard already."
Still, the unease remained.
He stared at the holographic star map of the Earth Sphere — red dots marking Federation positions, blue ones for Zeon. The map looked wrong. Too many new fronts. Too many anomalies.
The world was changing faster than even his system could track.
---
Jason leaned on the console, whispering to himself:
> "If there's another transmigrator out there, one who can summon beings from fiction into flesh… then this war isn't between Zeon and the Federation."
"It's between systems."
He smirked faintly, half in fear, half in amusement. "And I'm just a mechanic stuck in someone else's story."
The base lights flickered as an alert came through — Tanya's fleet confirming arrival at Solomon.
Jason straightened, exhaling slowly. "Then the stage is set."
He turned toward the empty lunar sky.
> "Show me what you're planning, summoner. Because I'll build the weapon that breaks your world before you finish your game."
The hum of machines filled the silence once more.
And for the first time since his transmigration, Jason Arkadi felt something dangerous — not despair, not confusion, but resolve.