Alvin’s worried gaze turned to the other two Dragon Elephant War Machines.
He could handle the seven veterans on his own fighter, but what about the brothers on the other two fighters?
The only consolation was that when he initially arranged the seating, he placed seven of the thirteen Battle Group veterans beside him. The other two fighters each had only three. The remaining seven were composed of five Brotherhood mbers and two Alliance People.
In those two fighters, it was the Brotherhood mbers who held the advantage.
But according to what he knew, his teammates, although outstanding, couldn’t match his level.
And without anyone with overwhelming battle skills, under the ground’s fire assaults and constant tactical maneuvers, it was hard to predict what kind of outco would result when their warriors were suddenly ambushed.
He had already reached out to the Combat Brothers in the other two fighters with a communication signal in between skirmishes.
But for a mont, all he could hear were roars, panting, and the harsh echo of Blast Bomb Gun fire in the confined space...
Alvin paused for a mont, then told the pilot: "Land first."
"Roger." As the mortal pilot, however slow he was, he could vaguely sense what was happening in the cockpit.
He was bewildered and scared, not knowing what to do.
No one told about this!
How did these ’Angels’ of the Interstellar Warriors start fighting among themselves?
Why are they fighting? Is there a traitor? Who’s the traitor? What should I do? Which side should I help? I can’t help much...
The puzzled pilot’s thoughts were very complicated, but in practice...there was no choice, so he could only do what he had to do at the mont.
With ground fires aiming skyward, he maneuvered to dodge; later, as if a victor erged, he was ordered to land, so he had to land.
After landing, unload this group of troublemakers, then quickly disappear and report to the superiors, asking them what to do next...
Not only did he think this way, but the pilots of the other two Dragon Elephant fighters thought the sa too.
Alvin first got off the fighter. Ignoring the fighter that was quickly departing, he clenched his weapon and watched the other two fighters landing afterward.
As he watched the cabin doors of those fighters slowly open, he even prepared for the worst, ready to face a fight.
To his relief, those who stepped out of the cabin door were all mbers of the Pure Fire Brotherhood.
Although not all of them ca out. Of the 10 Brotherhood mbers, only seven erged; none of the four non-Brotherhood Alliance recruits ca out.
At this mont, the nine people beside Alvin were all the power he could command.
The crisis of ambush aboard the fighter had been resolved. But does that an all crises are gone?
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
He hadn’t forgotten it was his company commander - Nata’s order that brought him here.
Since the ten or so Battle Group veterans in his squad attempted an assassination on him; what would be the attitude of the entire company, the other two squads, plus the command team led directly by the company commander?
A greater crisis was about to arrive.
Alvin’s Power Armor servos emitted a subtle hum, and his tactical visor dissected the terrain within five kiloters into countless data fragnts. Think Tank mber Gaza projected drones, led by the servo cranial units, scanning the surroundings and sharing information in real-ti with all Combat Brothers. For Gaza himself, his cranial servos offered even greater Spiritual Energy links, enhancing reconnaissance efficiency.
"Seven o’clock direction, one Dreadnought ch, one tactical squad; eleven o’clock direction, sa setup; four o’clock direction, a Terminator Squad, Nata is there," Shaga’s voice crackled with electrical noise in the encrypted channel.
The shared real-ti computed map showed Alvin that thirty-three red dots were closing in a pincer formation—led by company commander Nata’s Hunting Squadron.
According to Gaza, the setup was extrely luxurious.
What else could Alvin say?
He could only make a bitter joke: "At least the whole company didn’t co."
No sooner had he made the joke, the first Thermite Bomb was launched.
It ca from the Dreadnought ch’s long-range firepower projection.
"Spread out!" Alvin had already retrieved his main weapon—the Thunder Hamr as he disembarked the fighter—slamd it into the ground, propelling him to the right.
The rock pile he had been hiding behind vaporized in the thermite beam, with its splattering droplets scorching smoke onto his Power Armor.
The other two Brotherhood warriors chosen as targets reacted swiftly and avoided being hit.
"There’s an underground network here! Get in!" Alvin sprinted through the rain of shells, sweeping his Thunder Hamr to deflect two rocket missiles, "Shaga, set up Shock Mines with three teams, everyone else divert the Dreadnought!"
Nine figures surged across the wasteland, and the nearby Hunting Squadron revealed itself without any cover, firing continuously.
Among them, the most terrifying were the three giant War Machines in pursuit.
Listening to the constant explosions in the channel, Alvin suddenly noticed the uncanny regularity in the Dreadnought chs’ movent patterns—they always maintained an equilateral triangle formation, driving them toward a specific coordinate.
"Stop!" He screeched to a halt at a hundred-ter cliff, jamming his Power Claw deep into the rock face, "This is a trap!"
Yet it was already too late.
The ground suddenly collapsed, revealing the explosive-laden underground network below.
Evidently, their earlier plan wasn’t feasible. Had they gone in, they’d be finished.
Just then, a Brotherhood mber failed to react in ti and plunged into the abyss, the deafening explosions conveying the impossibility of survival, even for an Interstellar Warrior’s Power Armor, in such conditions.
Nata’s voice descended from above, "Your sacrifice will cleanse your sins!"
Alvin abruptly halted.
Continuing to flee this way ant certain death.
Suddenly he turned around, his jetpack granting him maximum propulsion, charging towards the leading Nata, hamr in hand!
As Nata’s plasma gun glowed red, Alvin, predicting the strike, swung his Warhamr fiercely, blocking the lethal blow.
Nata knew Alvin’s prowess; he didn’t expect to kill this most outstanding new Alliance blood just like that.
With his Power Sword ready for an encounter, Nata t Alvin head-on in battle, the clash of two Power Armors roaring in the air!
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