Who belongs to frontline

The docking bay was a storm of voices—technicians barking orders, engines humming, and the subtle electric buzz of mecha being prepped in hidden corners. Amid all the chaos stood Ziya, arms crossed tightly against her chest, her gaze fixed on a figure pacing just a few feet away.

Tyren.

She stepped forward.

"I want to go with you," she said firmly.

Tyren didn't stop pacing. "No."

Ziya clenched her jaw. "Tyren—"

"I said no, Ziya." He finally stopped and looked at her. "This isn't a patrol. It's not a recon mission. This is R22. The planet where Kaiju are evolving. The place where entire squads vanished without a trace."

"I know what it is," Ziya shot back. "I was there. I saw what you saw. I fought with you, remember?"

"You also almost died," Tyren said coldly. "We barely made it out alive."

Ziya's expression cracked for a moment, but she stood her ground. "That doesn't mean I'll sit here while you and Kael go get yourselves killed again."

"It's not about dying," Tyren muttered, rubbing his temples. "It's about—"

"About protecting me?!" Ziya cut in, her voice rising. "I don't need protection, Tyren. I need to belong. And don't you dare pretend that I haven't earned that right."

The words hung heavy between them.

Tyren opened his mouth… but said nothing.

---

Later that day, Ziya stormed into Ryssa's quarters.

She didn't knock.

"I need you to talk to Kael."

Ryssa blinked, setting down her tablet. "About what?"

"Letting me join the new Unit 404."

Ryssa raised an eyebrow. "I thought Tyren said—"

"He did. He said no," Ziya said, arms folded again. "So did Kael. But they're not gods. You're the only one who can talk sense into them."

Ryssa stared at her for a long moment. Then she rose, straightened her coat, and walked past Ziya toward the exit.

"Fine. I'll speak to him."

---

Kael was in the observation lounge, alone, watching the flickering holographic map of R22—the red regions expanding like rot. The moment Ryssa entered, he knew what was coming.

"Don't say it," he muttered.

"I haven't said anything yet."

Kael turned. "You're here about Ziya."

Ryssa shrugged, hands in her pockets. "Can you blame her? She's not wrong."

"She's not ready."

"She was ready when she saved Tyren. And she was ready when she stayed—when everyone else fled."

Kael said nothing.

"She's more loyal than half the officers we've fought beside," Ryssa added softly. "And you know that."

Kael looked at her. "I'm not asking her to stay behind because I doubt her loyalty."

"Then why?"

Kael exhaled through his nose. "Because this isn't about the team anymore. It's about doing something so reckless and dangerous, I don't want anyone else to bleed for it."

Ryssa tilted her head. "So you'll let Tyren go, but not her?"

Kael stayed quiet.

"You're not making a team. You're building a grave."

That one stung.

He turned back to the map.

After a pause, he said, "Fine. She can come."

Ryssa blinked in surprise. "Just like that?"

Kael gave her a sideways glance. "But on one condition."

"What condition?"

"I'll tell her myself."

---

Meanwhile, in the upper command tiers…

The boardroom was quiet.

Too quiet.

Dozens of top-tier officers sat in a semi-circle, holograms floating in front of each of them. All were filled with records—encounters, mutations, losses, and terrifying footage recovered from fallen squads.

At the head sat Admiral Korin, cold and unreadable.

"We've confirmed all initial squads sent to R22 have been annihilated," one officer muttered.

"Not annihilated. Consumed," another corrected grimly.

The tension rose with each passing second.

"And still," Korin said slowly, "Unit 404 survived."

A buzz of murmurs followed.

"They're different," said a younger officer. "Not standard. Not loyal. They're unstable."

"But effective," an older voice chimed in. "Kael's kill record is unmatched. Tyren's navigation led to the last safe exfiltration. And Ryssa—well, even stripped of command, her field intel has proven invaluable."

"Then what do we do?" someone asked.

Korin narrowed his eyes.

"We use them."

---

Back in the hangar...

Kael found Ziya sitting by the Lugger, wiping her hands with grease-stained cloth. She didn't look up when he approached.

"So you're really going to leave without saying goodbye?" she asked, not turning her head.

Kael stood beside her, arms crossed.

"I came to tell you… you're coming."

Ziya froze. "What?"

"I talked to Ryssa. I thought about it. And you're right."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"But," he added, "you don't follow me. You don't follow Tyren. You make your own choices. The second this gets too much—you walk away."

Ziya smiled faintly. "Don't tell Tyren I cried."

"I won't if you don't tell Ryssa I almost did."

They laughed.

It was short-lived.

Because in the distance… they could see new mecha being loaded into transport ships—ones with insignias from other battleships.

They weren't alone anymore.

---

Later that night…

In Kael's room, he stood with Tyren, Ryssa, and Ziya as the latest report came in.

> "Seven additional squads have been authorized to land on R22."

> "R22 officially classified as 'Cleansed.'"

> "Mutations are considered contained."

Kael crushed the data-pad in his palm.

"They're walking straight into the lion's den."

"They won't survive," Tyren said flatly.

Ziya nodded. "We're watching a disaster form."

Ryssa narrowed her eyes. "Then it's time we stop it."

Kael turned to the others, voice low and dangerous.

"New Unit 404 isn't just a rescue team anymore."

He glanced at each of them in turn.

"We're the only thing between humanity… and extinction."