Final Phase

The bloody battle finally came to an end only when the last judgment cell warrior collapsed, Shatiel's blade piercing straight through his chest.

The aftermath was devastating—four platoons had taken grievous losses.

Rogm's 1st Platoon was nearly wiped out. Only he, a squad leader, and one other gravely wounded soldier had survived. Nemilic's 2nd Platoon and Otto's 4th Platoon fared little better; together, they had fewer than twenty men still standing. Trenchap's 3rd Platoon was in relatively better shape—they had spent most of the fight at the rear, engaging the Lexomancers. By the time they joined the frontlines, Sennia had already eliminated the Lexomancer threat and they were subsequently sent to seize the transport plane. No one knew when they would be back.

The captured Luvinan officials had witnessed the entire battle from a short distance away—a fight unlike anything they had ever seen. Not a single one of them dared attempt escape; after all, only three Night Knights had been left to watch over them.

"You guys all right?"

Sennia approached, carrying the limp body of Inaya on her back. The others looked at her with expressions full of admiration.

"Thanks to you, we're still standing…"

Edwin, who'd taken a hit to the leg, struggled to his feet and offered genuine praise for Sennia's remarkable performance.

"Your name's Sennia, right? Damn fine work. Hahahaha."

Rogm burst out in hearty laughter. He, too, was thoroughly impressed by the girl he'd barely noticed before.

"Haha... I just got lucky. There just happened to be an anti-aircraft gun nearby…"

Sennia was obviously pleased with the praise. She had been anxious for a while about whether she could survive in a unit like the Night Knights.

"By the way, where'd you learn to fire a cannon like that?"

Her proficiency with the anti-aircraft gun had left a deep impression. Even the famously comprehensive curriculum at Altasa didn't cover artillery training.

"That? Uh… I never really learned it anywhere… I just studied how the gun was built and kinda figured it out..."

Even she didn't fully believe her own explanation, and the look on Rogm's face said he didn't either. Thankfully, Otto sensed her reluctance to go into detail and changed the subject.

"There's still no word from Trenchap. Should we go check on them?"

The fire in the hangar had long been put out. The earlier battle here had likely drawn attention from airport personnel. It was best to withdraw as soon as possible.

"I'll go."

Nemilic volunteered. Of the remaining forces, only his and Otto's platoons still had any combat strength.

"Be careful out there."

Otto didn't object. As the acting commander, it was his job to stay and oversee things.

"What's going on with Miss Inaya?"

Otto glanced at Inaya, limp in Sennia's arms, looking nearly unconscious.

"She got knocked out by the cannon blasts."

Cats really were sensitive creatures.

"She going to be okay?"

"Her vital signs are stable. Should be fine..."

None of them knew how a four-audio-channel creature's hearing worked, so there wasn't much anyone could do. They could only hope she'd wake up soon.

"Remember… our… promise…"

Inaya, as if on the brink of death, summoned her last ounce of strength to grab Sennia's collar and muttered what sounded like her final words—then flopped back, motionless.

Such dramatics...

But everyone familiar with her behavior could tell: she was definitely fine. In fact, this might very well be an act.

"Hey, Arcia's awake too."

Near the parked trucks, Arcia Levanovsky Virdona jumped down from one of the vehicles, looking drowsy and confused. Her eyes scanned the battlefield—corpses strewn everywhere, a smoldering wreck of a transport plane—it was obvious a brutal battle had taken place, and maybe wasn't even over yet.

That realization snapped her to alert. She immediately began scanning her surroundings, on guard.

Nothing seemed amiss. Her companions were gathered together, so she made her way toward them.

"What happened?"

Naturally, that was her first question.

"We ran into the judgment cells. Fierce fight—half of us are dead."

Otto gave her a full report, including what had happened while she was unconscious.

"I see."

Realizing there was no immediate danger, Arcia relaxed and fell silent, quietly observing from the sidelines.

The wait wasn't long.

A transport plane appeared in the distance, slowly taxiing out of the hangar more than a kilometer away. Once it reached the runway, it began to pick up speed.

"Get ready!"

Otto gathered the remaining troops and led the prisoners to an area away from the wrecked transport plane.

As they passed the still-bloody battlefield, many of the prisoners averted their eyes. Some couldn't help but gag at the gruesome sights. A few white-collar officials even vomited. But the brutality of what they had seen seemed to break their spirit—none of them showed any signs of trying to escape.

Trenchap's platoon arrived ahead of the aircraft, riding in trucks.

As the vehicles pulled up, Trenchap jumped out and ran toward Otto, his expression tense.

"There's been a change."

His tone was grim. Something had gone wrong.

"What is it?"

Otto motioned for him to continue.

"The plane's smaller than expected. Might not be able to carry everyone."

"How small?"

"Looks like it can only hold about a hundred people."

"..."

Another unexpected complication. Otto thought for a moment.

"If we squeeze, we can fit a hundred and fifty, right?"

"One-fifty, huh…"

Trenchap got the idea.

"If we remove the seats in the midsection, it should work."

Once the plane came to a stop, Otto immediately led a team over to start modifications.

Lacking proper tools and short on time, the Night Knights resorted to brute force, ripping the screw-mounted seats out of the cabin floor.

"Let them in."

Before long, the midsection was cleared. Otto stepped to the cargo door and signaled Nemilic to start loading the prisoners.

"After all this running around… it's finally wrapping up."

Edwin's injuries had improved a bit, but he still used a scorched iron bar from the wreckage as a makeshift cane.

"Half a month of effort for one mission. That's rare."

Even Nordhausen couldn't help sighing. The two men lit cigarettes and watched the prisoners file onto the plane.

"What the hell is this cigarette? Why won't it light?"

Edwin struggled to get his cigarette going. Then he noticed something strange—the front half was stained a dark, blood-red color.

"You really should check these things..."

"Like you noticed anything either."

"Fine, just give me another one."

He lit a new cigarette, took a drag, exhaled slowly, and finally felt himself relax.

"Kind of funny, isn't it? These bigwig officials—usually lounging in luxury or barking orders from some plush office—now packed into a cargo plane like livestock."

Edwin narrowed his eyes, letting the smoke drift out as he observed the absurdity before him.

"Mm. A unique perspective."

Nordhausen just wanted to enjoy his cigarette in peace.

They didn't speak again. By the time the last prisoner boarded, their cigarettes were nearly gone.

"Looks like we're walking home."

Edwin flicked his butt to the ground and joined the group. Nordhausen did the same, following close behind.

The plane rolled down the runway, picking up speed, and finally lifted into the air, disappearing into the night sky.

Odd, really. With all the commotion Otto's team had caused battling the judgment cells, it was strange no one had shown up. Rogm and Trenchap had stirred up a fair bit of trouble over at the hangar too, but still—wasn't someone supposed to be watching the rear?

No answers yet. Nordhausen filed the question away for later.

"The mission's done. Let's fall back as planned."

The military trucks were still parked nearby, and now that the prisoners were gone, their return would be even easier. Only question was—would they encounter the judgment cells again along the way? If the enemy launched another sneak attack like tonight's, the 11th Company might soon be down to just Andrei.

"Let's move."

Rogm waved tiredly and headed toward the trucks.