Chris narrowed his eyes as he studied the intelligence report in his hands.
"Looks like the New United States has appointed a new commander… and he's a lot smarter than the last one."
"Any thoughts, Boros?"
Suddenly called out, Boros slowly lifted his head. After glancing at the battlefield situation, he said, "Even I can see what they're trying to do. Don't tell me you can't."
"It's because I see it that I'm asking you. Battlefield micro-command is your specialty. Your turn."
Chris gave Boros a calm look as he finished speaking.
Boros sighed. Looks like slacking off was no longer an option.
That had been the main reason he ignored Chris in the first place—he wanted to slack off. Against opponents this unchallenging, he simply couldn't work up any interest.
Chris, of course, knew exactly what his old comrade was thinking. Without hesitation, he shoved the command authority into Boros's hands and closed his eyes to rest.
Boros looked resigned, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He opened the comm channel.
"This is Boros. I'm assuming command. From this moment on, all personnel will obey my orders unconditionally."
The people on the line exchanged glances, but no one raised any real objections.
Very quickly, Boros's orders began rolling out—many of them direct countermeasures to the New United States' current strategy.
They included harassment operations using the Sovereign-class Fighters, high-intensity single-unit engagements across the battlefield, and, most importantly, leveraging PROJECT's advantage: the majority of the deployed forces were high-performance robots. After repairs, they could be sent straight back into combat.
This was a tactic the New United States simply couldn't replicate—the exchange tactic. Their side was still predominantly flesh and blood.
Maitoh stared at his tactical deployment map, unease creeping in.
The vast majority of his arrangements had already been seen through by PROJECT's commander, and most of the special operations teams he had dispatched had been eliminated.
He had personally monitored one of the battles. The robots displayed tactics he had never seen before—ripping apart their formations with surgical precision, then splitting into smaller units before regrouping seamlessly for coordinated combat.
After the fight, they dispersed with astonishing discipline to conduct cleanup operations, subtly forming encirclements to wipe out the remaining special operations squads.
The entire sequence left Maitoh stunned.
What he couldn't understand most was where PROJECT had found this kind of military talent. They hadn't fought many campaigns. Even prodigies couldn't reach this near-veteran level in such a short time.
Fortunately, their trump card hadn't been exposed yet.
"How's the transfer?"
"It's complete. Combat mode can be activated at any time."
A group of netrunners hammered away at a supercomputer before turning to report.
"Good. Begin."
Maitoh nodded.
With the order given, the netrunners wasted no time. A specific signal was entered into the system. Moments later, a torrent of black-and-red data surged into the minds of the netrunners immersed in deep dive.
Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Zzzzt!
Black-and-red lightning flickered.
Within Idaho, a dormant robotic force slowly stirred awake. Every unit bore the same black-and-red hue, arcs of dark electricity leaping across their frames.
After standing motionless for two or three seconds, they dissolved into streaks of shadow and charged toward the PROJECT forces.
Watching through the robots' visual feeds, Boros frowned. This was something he had never seen before.
Whoosh—
One of the black-and-red robots leapt, crashing down onto a PROJECT Imperial Guard Robot. The Imperial Guard Robot seized it by the head and smashed it violently into the ground.
A thunderous impact followed. Parts flew everywhere.
But in the next instant, a hand clamped onto the Imperial Guard Robot's face.
Its body trembled. A red glow spread across its frame. Moments later, it drew the Shotgun at its waist and fired at a nearby Ambros robot engaged in combat.
Boom!
The blast shredded Ambros's metallic body. Caught completely off guard by friendly fire, Ambros didn't even react.
At that moment, Astat—the security AI controlling all PROJECT combat robots—intervened.
All anomalous units were immediately tagged. Orders were issued: eliminate them by any means necessary. Avoid physical contact at all costs.
Having delivered the command, Astat didn't remain idle. It directly engaged the virus beyond the Blackwall, beginning a data-level tug-of-war.
"Well… that's certainly a surprise."
Boros rubbed his chin and immediately relayed the anomaly to other PROJECT forces, especially the PROJECT squad. If they were infected, that would be real trouble. The odds were low—but caution never hurt.
Just as Boros sent the warning, Pyke had already made contact with one of the infected units.
The black-and-red machine struggled in his grip as Pyke held it by the head and walked toward the New United States forces.
"Mm… mm… a strange will… All humans are enemies? Interesting…"
Pyke shook his head and forcibly expelled the virus. His mind housed a top-tier AI—there was nothing to fear.
On the New United States side, every netrunner engaged in deep dive had their brain burned out without exception.
This was a newly developed technique after the meeting with Myers—slightly less dangerous in process, but the price paid was far greater.
Among the selected netrunners, some volunteered, some were forced into volunteering, and some were death row inmates.
Whoosh—boom—
Another burst flared in the sky like fireworks.
The Sovereign-class Fighters immediately broke off and headed toward New United States–controlled territory, preparing for a round of volleys.
The earlier missiles had all been launched from silos in Idaho by the New United States—but every one of them had been intercepted by the Sovereign-class Fighters.
The advantage was obvious: the Sovereign-class Fighters were forced to run constant interceptions, leaving them with no time to apply pressure on the main battlefield.
The downside was just as clear—the financial and material costs were staggering.
The real purpose of this tactic was to buy time to establish an electromagnetic silence zone.
Just as the New United States forces braced themselves and locked on with air defense missiles, expecting a major strike, the Sovereign-class Fighters suddenly veered away and departed.
The soldiers were left staring in confusion.
As for the reason…
Unbeknownst to them, a small squad had already quietly advanced to close range.
At its center stood Dorio, now modified into a mountain-like form.
She was tapping at the tablet mounted on her forearm. As the final digit was entered, Dorio slowly raised the massive greatsword in her hand.
...
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