Aboard the flagship Vaal, Christiana, overseeing the entire fleet's operations, noticed a peculiar report. The ceaseless waterfall of information displayed from the ceiling suddenly paused, a silence that immediately drew attention. Had something critical happened? A catastrophic blunder in the ongoing war?

Ignoring the anxious glances around her, Christiana reached out, expanding the concise document to a readable size. “A distress call from non-Imperial citizens… This pattern… It’s like the Multi-National Alliance…” A flicker of nostalgia, a brief smile, touched her face, quickly replaced by a somber expression as the memory of her homeland’s destruction resurfaced.

Noticing her change in demeanor, the assistant adjutants gathered around, ready to step in should anyone falter. Among them was Claudia. She glanced at the displayed information and understood.

“Tia? Is this a distress call from Mysteria? But why now…?”

Beside a bewildered Claudia, another adjutant tilted their head. “Um, what’s Mysteria?”

Claudia quietly explained to her uninformed colleague, “…Tia’s homeland.”

“Huh? But wasn't it already destroyed?”

“That’s why this is so complicated.”

Listening to the hushed whispers, Christiana, having already gleaned the gist of the report, spoke. “Most likely, Mysterian survivors relocated to that attacked planet. Seeking refuge on a barely habitable world…”

Her people, fleeing their ravaged home, clinging to survival on a harsh, unforgiving planet. Imagining their hardship, a pang of sympathy resonated within her. However…

“…What a waste of time.” Christiana’s words revealed her intention – she would offer no aid to those suffering under the Empire’s plunder.

Claudia’s voice rose in protest. “Tia, are you certain about this?”

Christiana turned her head slightly. “What are you implying? I command the entire Imperial fleet. I don't have time to meddle in a minor skirmish.”

To Christiana, suppressing her emotions for the sake of her position, Claudia retorted, “You have the power and resources to help them. A single order from you would resolve everything.”

“And waste valuable resources on a single planet? Another front might suffer, leading to defeat against the United Kingdom of Oxis.”

Bound by the need to see the bigger picture, Christiana couldn’t afford such a seemingly shortsighted decision. She had priorities.

Sensing Tia's inner turmoil, and knowing she would later regret inaction, Claudia pressed on. “Even so, we should help them. There’s still a chance.”

“I am here to win—to deliver victory to him. I won’t jeopardize that for personal sentiment.” Tia remained resolute.

Just then, a male knight descended, interjecting, “Then allow me to offer a proposal.”

It was Klaus. Claudia’s eyes widened. “Supreme Commander… designate?”

On the Melea’s bridge, Allison raged at Emma’s insubordination. “She descended to the planet and engaged the Imperial forces?!”

The bridge crew’s reaction, however, leaned towards approval. Tim, practically bouncing in his commander’s chair, exclaimed, “Haha! She actually did it… That Knight!” While he had previously mocked the title, he now acknowledged Emma as a true knight. “She actually challenged the looting Imperial forces. Crazy… Absolutely bonkers!”

Retreat would have been the logical course of action, a fact everyone present understood. But the Melea, a technical test ship and a dumping ground for the military's unconventional personnel, fostered a different breed. Emma’s actions, however reckless, only elevated her standing. Even Tim, despite his initial reservations, was impressed by her sheer audacity.

Allison, however, remained furious. “Launch all available Mobile Knights and stop Commander Rodman. Use lethal force if necessary.”

Tim immediately objected. “Are we just going to ignore the looting?”

“They are the Imperial regular army! Do you understand the scale of their presence here? Even under Banfield command, not every unit follows orders blindly. This could trigger internal conflict and cripple our entire campaign!” They couldn't afford infighting while battling the United Kingdom of Oxis. Rescuing non-Imperial citizens offered no benefit to the Banfield family, only potential drawbacks.

Tim adjusted his cap, then declared, “Restrain the Overseer. I will take command from here on.”

“What?!” Before Allison could react, Tim barked out orders. “Launch all available Mobile Knights and support Commander Rodman. Make no mistake, these are my orders. Am I clear?”

Allison finally realized the shift in Tim. “You fool… You can’t bear this responsibility alone!”

“A by-the-book stickler like you wouldn’t understand, but in the old days, we fought on grit. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this… alive.” Tim ripped off his cap and slicked back his hair into a pompadour with practiced ease. His demeanor transformed from a weary middle-aged man into a seasoned, rebellious veteran.

A ripple of excitement coursed through the bridge crew as Tim roared, “Melea, charge, damn it!”

Having pierced the atmosphere, Emma leveled her Atalante's multi-purpose rifle and issued a warning. “This is Commander Emma Rodman. Cease your looting and withdraw immediately. I repeat, this is—”

The descending Imperial warships opened fire, ignoring her demands.

Teach those self-righteous fools a lesson about the realities of war, a voice, presumably the commanding officer, boomed, intensifying the barrage.

“If that’s how you want to play it!” Disengaging the safety on her rifle, Emma returned fire while expertly dodging incoming attacks. She systematically disabled the warships’ main cannons and anti-aircraft guns, prompting the launch of Imperial Mobile Knights, primarily Mojave units, to intercept her.

“Mojaves as their main force? For a regular army?” Perplexed, Emma drew a laser sword from the Atalante's left side skirt. Gripping the sword, she ascended to meet the incoming Mojaves head-on.

“Too slow!”

With friendly communication channels open, she heard the enemy pilots’ chatter. Those backwater nobles and their fancy new machines! Damn Banfield upstarts!

The Atalante danced through the air, outmaneuvering the lumbering Mojaves. With swift strikes, she sliced off limbs, sending them spiraling downwards. Though still capable of fighting, they feigned critical damage, slowly descending as if retreating. Their cowardly display infuriated Emma.

“Fight like proper soldiers, you’re supposed to be the regular army!”

Kicking the head of what appeared to be the command Mojave, she received a strained chuckle in response. Regular army or not, we’re a patrol fleet’s Mobile Knight squadron. What did you expect? Their lack of motivation reminded her of the Melea’s former crew. But the enemy outnumbered her.

You’re finished for attacking us. Execution awaits you back at base!

Playing the good guy, huh? This is everyday life on the battlefield!

The Banfields don’t loot, you say? Liars!

Though adequately trained, the sheer number of Imperial pilots began to overwhelm Emma, her fractured right arm hindering her full potential. “There were other options!”

As she prepared to engage another Mojave, beams of energy lanced down from above, obliterating enemy units. Looking up, she saw the Varona Team.

“Lieutenant Kimura?! Why are you here?!” Emma hadn’t wanted to drag them into this.

I despise looting. Besides, the sight of such undisciplined regular army soldiers makes me sick… Call it a whim.

“A whim?!”

Bemused by Ain's response, Emma continued her assault, kicking and slashing.

My father was a soldier. A stubborn man who hated injustice. I chose this path out of respect for him.

Ain's Varona, mimicking Emma’s tactics, destroyed a Mojave’s head with its rifle. Seeing his resolve, Emma ceased her protests. “Let’s shut down these looters!”

I’m impressed you can say that with just four units, Commander. …We’ll follow your lead.

The Atalante accelerated, the Varona team on its heels. The team that had initially defied her now followed her commands.

Breaking through the Mojave squadron, they encountered another group of Mobile Knights, presumably returning from looting. Ain quickly identified them. They appear to be latest-generation Mobile Knights. Designated… Wilder. Versatile units manufactured by the First Weapons Factory.

“No wonder they look different from the Nevan types.”

The bucket-headed Mobile Knights lacked any distinguishing features. Their knightly appearance was standard for the Empire, and they seemed to lack any specialized weaponry. Simple, performance-focused machines. Piloted by knights, judging by their head-on attack against the Atalante. A Third Weapons Factory Nevan type! But my Wilder is superior! The pilot’s skill was undeniable, their morale and fighting spirit far exceeding the average soldiers Emma had faced so far.

However, they were no match for Emma's Atalante. Parrying a blow, she found herself surrounded by attacking Wilders.

It’s your turn, mercenaries! If you can hear me, get over here now! an Imperial Knight cried out.

Additional fees will apply, a feminine voice responded.

Just bill the fortress! Stop her!

As Emma continued to dismantle the Wilders, a familiar Mobile Knight descended, causing her hair to stand on end. Furrowing her brow, she growled within the cockpit. “Selena!”

The Gold Raccoon, its arms lost in their previous encounter, now sported new, monstrous appendages. Long, thick, and tipped with wicked claws, they also boasted beam cannons and gatling guns.

Thrilled to have a rematch so soon. This time, I’ll shatter you, little Miss Justice!

The overloaded Atalante and the modified Gold Raccoon clashed in the air.

Bryan: (´ω｀) “This Bryan was quite the hotshot back in the day. Brings back memories~”

Liam: (；゜Д゜) “You had a pompadour too? (…And what’s a ‘hotshot’?)”