A Chance at Victory Appears

Wreckage scattered in every direction. In the resistance-free vacuum of space, these drifting fragments would continue moving forever until they struck some other obstacle. After the pilots were pierced through by the keratinous spikes growing from the jump creatures, depressurization and the escape of internal gases caused their corpses to rapidly lose heat. Every bodily fluid within them burst from their wounds, atomizing into vapor-like clouds of mist.

Even so, an uncountable number of mechs still used Domain jumps to board near the jump creatures, attempting to attack them.

A primitive battle scene resembling hand-to-hand combat unfolded absurdly in space.

The Monomolecular Blade fanged limbs growing from the jump creatures' bodies clashed with the mechs' melee weapons. The mechs' glowing melee weapons held the advantage in power; even cutting through proton lattice matter was no difficult task. Yet the Collectors' fanged limbs likewise possessed the ability to kill in a single strike.

The mech army had superior numbers, but the Collectors could grow even more fanged limbs from their bodies. At a time like this, the saying that two fists could not beat four hands meant nothing.

A large number of mech warriors surrounded a single jump creature, yet for a time they could find no way to strike, forced into a stalemate.

"Tch, we're still deadlocked."

"I'll break the stalemate. You cover me."

One mech spoke to his partner and charged out. His partner, only realizing what was happening a moment later, shouted anxiously.

"Wait, what are you trying to do?"

"Just watch."

"If you want to get yourself killed, don't drag me into it!"

Though he said that, his partner gritted his teeth and ultimately chose to follow.

For mech warriors, the enemy's deadliest means of attack was those strange glowing weapons. Once an enemy warship inexplicably lit