The anti-aircraft cannons roared. Superheated air surged from the cooling grilles, evaporating the snow. Steam and smoke and dust were swept into the blizzard, while dazzling beams and artillery trails tore open the chaotic sky again and again, stretching a web of fire across the low-hanging clouds and storm—within its flashes, countless shadows fought and tangled.
Flesh and blood clashed with Steel Machines; flying knights clashed with modern soldiers armed with Magic-Conducting Technology. It was as though two eras had collided violently in the sky, sparks and fragments scattering from the impact and vanishing into the blizzard's howl.
The external monitors above the carriage relayed images from the sky. Maryland watched the brutal scene with an ashen face—he had seen such a clash before, a violent conflict that seemed to herald the changing of an era. Only, the last collision had taken place on the ground. This time... it was happening in the sky.
"Sir! Those Typhonians aren't normal!" an observer shouted. "They seem able to come back to life! And they're far stronger than the ones we encountered before!"
"If they can revive, kill them more times. If they're too strong, concentrate fire. All anti-aircraft cannons, fire at full capacity. Bring out the individual missile launchers too—flesh and blood are always more fragile than machines!" Maryland stood at the command station and issued his orders in a calm, ringing voice. "How much longer until we break out of this blizzard?"
"Sir!" another signalman responsible for contacting the air units immediately reported loudly. "The high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft says the blizzard has been moving with us—we've remained right at its center!"
"Damn it... so this really is the work of those Typhonians..." Maryland muttered a curse. He looked toward the carriage window. Through the reinforced crystal glass and thick shields, he