Fendshen

Earth Alliance, North American Command, 300 meters underground, F-2 bunker.

The enormous metal conference table reflected the cold LED strips on the ceiling.

There were no windows on the walls, only an enormous tactical map spanning the entire wall. The coordinates of the Orb Archipelago blinked on it in glaring red, like a wound that would never heal.

The people seated around the table wore enough stars on their epaulets to light up Washington's night sky.

Yet at this moment, not a trace of a victor's pride could be found on the faces of these most powerful soldiers on Earth.

Silence.

A long silence.

At last, General Sutherland, seated at the head of the table, set down the cigar that had long gone out and questioned everyone present. "So, what do we do now?"

The question sank into the Black Goo like a stone, stirring not a single ripple.

What could they do?

On the tactical screen, the combat footage classified as top secret continued to loop silently.

The pure-white Providence Gundam moved through the barrage woven by the "Phalanx," its movements defying every principle of aerodynamics.

Missile exhaust trails drew futile arcs behind it before being precisely detonated.

Then came the image of that enormous beam sword cleaving through the bridge of the George H. W. Bush.

"Conventional weapons... are ineffective against it."

A Navy lieutenant general spoke with difficulty, his voice seeming to squeeze its way out of his throat. "The Aegis system we spent billions of dollars building is a joke in front of that thing.

It goes wherever it wants and kills whoever it wants—"

"There is only one option."

On the other side of the table, an Air Force commander with a livid face rapped his knuckles against the tabletop hard enough to make the