The Follow-Up Move

The Providence Gundam's stabilization unit let out a piercing shriek, its overload warning lights casting intermittent red flashes across Le Creuset's mask.

A beam grazed the armor on the machine's right shoulder, melting the surface composite material with its intense heat and exposing the scorched-black metal tendons beneath.

Three black shadows, like vultures circling a carcass, surrounded him at the heart of their barrage with a taunting rhythm.

Every dodge, every block, seemed to be the result of precise calculation.

"What's wrong, White Knight? Aren't you supposed to see the future?"

That voice echoed within his skull once more. "Or have you already reached your limit?"

"How boring. This doesn't even count as a warm-up."

Another voice joined in, languid as a yawn. "Finish him early and we might still make lunch. I heard today's menu is Australian wagyu."

"Don't rush."

The third voice—the first one from before—carried a lofty arrogance. "It's rare to find such an interesting toy. Wouldn't it be a waste not to play with it a little longer?"

A cat toying with a mouse.

Le Creuset's fingertips swept over the control panel, bringing up the machine's damage report.

Right arm drive system: power down 12%. Backpack main thrusters: vector nozzle -3 experiencing response delays.

These guys were really full of themselves—

"Heh—"

Le Creuset suddenly gave a soft laugh.

The laughter traveled through the open communication channel, and through some spiritual connection, into the cockpits of all three Hyperions at once.

"Hm?"

"He's still laughing? Looks like he's gone mad."

"Since you enjoy peeking into other people's minds so much,"

Le Creuset's voice was quiet, yet it carried a cold quality, as though he saw through everything. "Why not—take another look at what I'm thinking right now?"

Along with Le Creuset's voice, the will known as