Gates did not rush to widen the distance. Instead, it repeatedly made irregular sharp turns at close range.
Every change of direction came with suppressive fire that nearly struck point-blank, forcing the Strike Gundam to abandon its offensive posture and evade.
As the white machine shifted course once more, it lunged at the Strike with a vicious Beam Claw strike.
"Damn it, if this keeps up...!"
Mu had no choice but to yank the controls sideways again, sending the Strike Gundam into an awkward side roll. The agitation in his heart grew stronger and stronger, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
Though Mu had yet to take any substantial hits thanks to his instincts and shield, the sensation of a blade grazing the tip of his nose repeated itself again and again.
Several beams had nearly melted the edge of his shield. If his reaction had been even a hundredth of a second slower, the machine would have been pierced straight through.
Rau Le Creuset, however, was entirely different.
Under his control, the white machine made not a single unnecessary movement. It moved with an elegance that made it seem as though it was not fighting for its life at all.
Faced with Strike's furious counterfire, it always twisted, rose, or dipped at precisely the moment the beams arrived. Its movements seemed so effortless that it was almost as if it were dancing a waltz.
The warning alarms never stopped ringing in Mu's ears.
And for Mu, the problem now was not merely his disadvantage in piloting skill or the difficult battle itself.
He glanced at the instrument panel. The bar indicating his remaining energy was shrinking at an astonishing rate, and it had begun flashing a nerve-racking yellow warning color.
The Strike Gundam had first endured a brutal