[Alert! Alert! High-speed object detected! Approaching this vessel at extre velocity!]
"Estimate target velocity," the Galaxy Ranger aboard the ship barked at the console.
With Doomsday Beasts still active, there was no room for surprises—every anomaly had to be assessed and, if necessary, neutralized.
The ship's system kicked into high gear, quickly churning through calculations.
[Estimating target velocity: 500 km/h… 981 km/h… 1,374 km/h…]
[Target speed still accelerating!]
The Ranger frowned, glancing at the readout module.
"That can't be right. Moving that fast inside a planet's gravity? Doesn't it worry about colliding with sothing?!"
At that speed, the impact would disintegrate almost anything.
He pulled up the visual tracking system—and froze.
The target's velocity had already passed 2,000 km/h. No—3,000 and still climbing.
By all logic, it should be lighting up the battlefield like a falling star. With that much speed and air friction, it'd be impossible to miss.
But no matter how long he searched the skies, he couldn't spot a single trace.
So he switched to the ship's external cara feed.
And finally—he saw it.
A single, gleaming silhouette blazing across the battlefield like a golden teor. Hope incarnate, streaking through the sky.
Wings arched behind him, not unlike a Doomsday Beast's, but with a softer, more fluid shape. Every motion carved the wind away, eliminating drag.
And in his wake, the air quivered—a pulsing, invisible rhythm.
The ship's sensors picked it up and translated it as audio.
Upon eting the ultimate partner
A miracle will be created (So, We can make it)
A song.
He was playing a song over the battlefield while flying at hypersonic speed.
The Ranger blinked, stunned silent.
But then the power inside him stirred—and in that mont, he understood.
The hesitation faded. A smile crept onto his face.
"A comrade."
Even if they hadn't t, even if he didn't know the newcor's face—the resonance of their power told him everything he needed to know.
They were fighting for the sa dawn.
Still... this kind of solo combat style wasn't common. In fact, the only people who operated like that were...
"Wait—so they're new?"
And if that was true, then as a veteran—he couldn't just sit around watching.
"Console, open communications to all ships."
[Establishing connection... Connection successful.]
"Yo, what's up?"
"You didn't get shot down, did you?"
"Don't worry, I've got an escape pod on standby—if you're still breathing, I'll fish you out."
He ignored their banter and said one thing:
"We've got a rookie."
Silence.
For a mont, the entire comms network went quiet—no sound except the distant thunder of weapons fire.
And then—
"Then it's ti we threw them... a welco party."
He began tapping commands into his ship's console.
[All weapon systems: full power mode activated.]
The system confird it aloud.
"That's right. Forget ammo limits, forget wear-and-tear. Everything we've got is for one thing only—"
"WELCO!!"
At his command, the ship roared to life.
Gunports extended from the hull, flak turrets deployed, hidden launchers hissed open—
Lasers. Missiles. Particle cannons.
A barrage of brilliant color, like constellations exploding in midair, tore through the battlefield gloom.
Weapons fire painted the sky in arcs and spirals. But every shot was perfectly calculated—threading between allies to tear into the enemy lines.
Even those already locked in combat couldn't help but glance skyward.
"…Whoa."
Then ca another ship.
And another.
And another.
As if prearranged, every vessel in the sector activated its full arsenal.
Ammo rained down like it was free. Explosions flared like celebratory fireworks.
The ground shook under the onslaught.
But those who knew... those who understood what this ant... simply smiled.
Everyone recognized the significance of this mont.
"A newcor, huh?"
And what if they ran out of ammo?
What if their ships were left as helpless targets?
Heh.
The Rangers would tell you—
They weren't just ships. They were warriors.
And for a new Ranger, no price was too high.
Across the entire battlefield, anywhere Sora passed, the sky lit up in fire.
As if his path ignited the stars themselves, a brilliant chain of light spread in his wake.
Eventually, Sora skidded to a halt.
Behind him, the earth was scorched black and scarred with craters.
Wait… what happened?
Before he could process it, a second wave of beams and missiles shot past him—striking down the enemy ahead!
ROOOAR!!
A monstrous howl erupted as smoke enveloped a hulking figure.
When the haze cleared, the Doomsday Beast stood revealed, its anti-matter engine glowing violently as it prepared a massive counterattack.
"…Well that's not good," muttered a Ranger nearby, already preparing to abandon ship for single-unit combat.
But the blast ca faster than expected.
Beams surged outward—locked on target.
The ship's crew wouldn't have ti to evacuate. They were done for.
Sora saw it happen.
Click.
He pulled the trigger on Fang.
Vrrrm!
Brilliant white energy surged from his body, coalescing into a massive beast-like construct—then vanished, absorbed back into him.
Spines burst from his armor, radiating with power enough to shatter a planet.
He launched straight into the path of the blast.
The Ranger inside the ship didn't flinch. He faced death with calm acceptance.
He trusted his comrades would avenge him.
But then—
A golden flash.
Sora.
He darted in front of the ship—light blurring around him as he wove back and forth, weaving a shield from his sheer speed.
The Doomsday beam t that wall—and vanished.
Every single shot was erased in seconds.
Even the monstrous Beast, enhanced by Zulo himself, froze in disbelief.
And when the smoke cleared, the ship still floated there, untouched.
Sora's golden silhouette now dived straight for the Beast.
The Ranger leaned toward the window and watched.
He didn't need to ask.
He already knew.
The power that echoed inside him was all the answer he needed.
"This is the rookie, huh?"
He smiled, watching Sora clash with the titan.
"Well, then we old-tirs can't just sit around, can we?"
It had been too long. Too long since the Rangers had welcod soone new.
He headed below deck, donned his combat suit, and loaded his sidearm.
Then he stepped out of the hatch.
If a new generation had arrived—
Then the old guard would show them what legends looked like.
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