“And that’s Xarica! Jessica Inbolkis and Mark Stroble just lined up seven—count them, seven—Rhupenshron and cleaved them in half with one sweep! A textbook Razor Thrust boosted by a vertical jet feint, ladies and gentlemen!”

  Cheers roared across millions of speakers worldwide. Viewers were glued to their screens, watching drone footage weave between the chaos of the battlefield. War and spectacle folded together—a dance of death lit by plasma trails and the dark, spiny bodies of Rhupenshron bursting apart under relentless fire.

  Only twenty-five remained.

  “Squad X is turning this mop-up into an art form! Look at that formation shift—Xorenyl’s got their right flank! That’s Josh Volton and Emily Kurve keeping the momentum like clockwork. Xukita is above them—yes, that’s Chika Itakoru and Lucas Timothy dropping into the heat from altitude! Beautiful teamwork!”

  Screeches tore the air, answered by searing beams and the rhythmic hum of thrusters. The mechs swept across the plains of Eastern Wuheh like blades through tall grass. The Rhupenshron’s twisted limbs, terrifying in close quarters, looked sluggish in the open.

  “And we’ve got a clean collapse from Xofarma—Sofia Ramirez and Marcus Nguyen, folks, never missing a beat. Look at that pin: Xalirey coming in for the follow-through! Alex Anderson and Riley Mitchell bringing the hammer down! That’s another six gone in a blink!”

  Minutes later, the skies cleared. The Rhupenshron fell like dominoes. The last one hissed, writhing as Jessica brought Xarica’s blade straight down, pinning it through its gullet into the soil. Its screech faded into silence.

  “And that’s game! Squad X with a flawless sweep. No damage taken, no pilot injured—this, my friends, is what we train for. That’s another strike in the books for the Iron Legion. To all our viewers across Benoltraf, the UK Bofenring, Khofgol, Exxeram, and beyond—thank you for tuning in. We’ll see you next time for another live drop! For now, stay sharp, stay safe… and stay strong.”

  The stream ended with a bright blast of orchestral music—militant, hopeful.

  Inside the Iron Fortress, Squad X’s mechs thundered into their loading bay, metal feet clamping down with practiced precision. Steam hissed from cooling joints as heavy doors sealed shut with a metallic boom. Cockpits lifted open like armored petals, and the pilots climbed down—light-footed, high-spirited, still riding the flawless win.

  Jessica Inbolkis hit the ground first, tugging off her helmet. “Seven in one strike. You owe me dinner for that, Mark.”

  Mark Stroble dropped beside her with a wry look. “You owe me for not throwing up in the cockpit when we hit that last one.”

  Josh Volton chuckled as he and Emily Kurve dismounted from Xorenyl. “Can’t believe we cleared them that fast. I didn’t even break a sweat.”

  Emily smirked. “That’s because I carried the team.”

  Lucas Timothy adjusted his sleeves as he joined them, Chika Itakoru silent at his side with a towel already around her neck. “I don’t care who carried who,” Lucas said. “I just want a shower and a protein bar.”

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  Sofia Ramirez and Marcus Nguyen shared a fist bump as they stepped out of Xofarma. Alex Anderson and Riley Mitchell followed, Riley still buzzing.

  “That last combo? Did you guys see it?” Riley beamed. “I swear we could’ve cut eight if one hadn’t dodged.”

  Sofia laughed. “Don’t get cocky. We don’t know what kind of variation we’ll face next.”

  As they made their way down the reinforced corridors, their banter echoed with the hum of machinery and the roar of diagnostics.

  The debriefing chamber was cold and utilitarian, a crescent of chairs facing blank screens. Commander Vel Orsin and Vice Commander Helena Rourke stood waiting, posture perfect, insignia gleaming.

  “Squad X,” Orsin said, voice sharp but approving. “Excellent work. Clean sweep. Zero damage. The kind of performance we wish we could bottle and distribute.”

  Rourke nodded. “Your synergy has improved. Tighter formations. Smarter engagements. That Razor Thrust was textbook.”

  The squad nodded respectfully, easing into chairs.

  “But don’t get comfortable,” Orsin added. “In five hours, the high council calls for every squad to assemble in the main court.”

  Rourke folded her arms. “We don’t know the announcement yet, but it’s important enough to summon all of you. Rest while you can. Hydrate. Eat. Be ready.”

  They were dismissed, chatter and laughter carrying them back into the fortress.

  Later, downtime split them apart. Jessica sprawled across her bunk, muttering, “No one touch me for thirty minutes,” before immediately pulling up match footage to review.

  Mark brewed coffee in the lounge kitchen, setting one mug silently at her side. Josh leaned against the counter, grinning at the simulator leaderboard. “Still top ten. You owe me a rematch.”

  Emily stretched on the floor nearby, disciplined and calm. Lucas tinkered with drone joints at his desk while Chika leaned silently in the doorway. “Want to try flying later?” he asked. She gave a small nod.

  Sofia pummeled a sparring bot in the training wing. “I fight like I’m already behind,” she told Marcus, who smirked from the sidelines.

  Alex and Riley argued over holographic tactics, voices rising with laughter. “You’re too aggressive sometimes,” Alex said. Riley only grinned.

  Hours passed, and soon the call came.

  The main court gleamed white and vast. Every squad, A to Z, stood in formation. At the far end, the Iron Fortress Council waited, High Marshal Drevan Orxe at its center.

  “Twelve fallen this week,” Orxe said gravely as names and faces appeared on the towering screen. Each was honored, their final moments replayed. “They are gone, but not absent.”

  Then twelve new faces appeared, fresh recruits stepping into the void. Nervous eyes, young resolve.

  Orxe continued. “Victory has its numbers too.”

  More names filled the screen—records broken, Squad X at the top. Jessica and Mark for their seven-kill strike. Emily for her hover endurance. Chika and Lucas for fastest lock-to-execution. Marcus for accuracy.

  Applause rippled.

  Strategic Officer Varat’s voice carried through the chamber. “You are not just soldiers. You are symbols. The world watches you.”

  “Dismissed,” Orxe concluded.

  Boots thundered as squads filed out. The air buzzed with pride, pressure, and purpose.

  Squad X walked in quiet formation. “So we’re world record holders again,” Jessica said dryly.

  “Feels like we should retire before it gets boring,” Mark replied.

  Emily smirked. “What, hold back now?”

  Josh shook his head. “Let the rest catch up.”

  Sofia’s expression was quieter. “Strange to get accolades while twelve names just went on the wall.”

  Marcus nodded. “It should feel strange. That’s the point.”

  The group fell silent until Riley broke it with a grin. “They’ve gotta name that maneuver after you, Jess.”

  She gave a small smile but looked away. “We don’t name things after people still alive.”

  By the time they reached the mess hall, the mood had shifted. Chika surprised them by suggesting, “Let’s do a real dinner. Not ration trays.”

  One by one, they agreed. Together they turned toward the cafeteria, not just a squad, but a family forged in fire.