"The goddess of Danhul! The goddess of the rebel army!"
Amid those shouts, Andro Mota crawled out from behind his hiding place. A moment later, he heard even more frenzied battle cries rise behind him, drowning out the cheers ringing all around. It was obvious that rebel forces everywhere had left their hiding places and begun their all-out assault.
He didn't know whether the timing was right, but he couldn't afford to think about it. Panting, he simply followed the crowd forward on instinct. He was wearing power armor, and the burden of his equipment and charge had been shifted to the machine, yet he still felt exhausted. He even felt as if his lungs were starting to burn.
He saw Imperial soldiers appear at his side and panicked, even forgetting to pull the trigger of his Vulcan cannon. But then, no fatal attack came.
Mota froze on the spot for long enough to have died at least twice over before suddenly realizing that the Imperial soldiers didn't even have power armor or weapons. They were clearly stragglers who had crawled out of the fortress that had just been razed.
They were panicking too—more than he was, in fact.
At last, one of the Imperial soldiers belatedly raised his rifle, only to be torn apart by the Vulcan cannon, which roared to life first.
"Now that's satisfying! I'm finally a real veteran!" Mota told himself. By now, he had barely any reason left. All he could think about was killing the enemy, killing them, and never stopping.
But before the self-proclaimed veteran—who was as round as a ball—lost himself in the death spiral between the two sides, he still caught sight of the blue power armor's back from the corner of his eye.
At that moment, the unstoppable Miss Charlie