Menoetius had to make a decision, and fast.
The enemy's core had to be destroyed.
But how could they cross that lethal field of spikes? Concentrate their fire and bombard it from range? That risked completely destroying the ship's structure.
Send an elite squad to force its way through? With that dense array of spikes ready to erupt again at any moment, it would be suicide.
Just as Menoetius's mind raced, weighing the merits and costs of every tactical option, a massive figure moved.
It was Hercules.
He neither asked permission nor waited for orders.
He stood at the very front of their position, only a few steps from the killing ground.
He, too, had seen the fallen Imperialis Militia soldiers and his wounded brothers.
Anger, duty, and a burning desire to prove himself—a fighting spirit Skranchi had kindled—surged through his chest.
He gripped the endlessly humming Power Sword tightly, its hilt seemingly still holding the warmth of the moment Company Captain Menoetius had given it to him.
He couldn't wait any longer.
Every second of delay could mean more deaths, more time for the Colossus to prepare an even more terrifying attack.
"Hercules! What are you doing?! Get back here!" Company Captain Menoetius realized what he intended and barked a sharp command.
He admired the recruit's courage, but he would never tolerate a pointless sacrifice!
Yet Hercules seemed not to hear him. He drew a deep breath, his massive, genetically enhanced body sinking slightly like a great bow drawn taut.
The next instant, he kicked off hard!
The sturdy metal deck gave a deep boom beneath his feet, leaving a shallow dent.
Like a wild horse breaking free of its reins, he became a streak of gray lightning and charged without hesitation into the forest of spikes!
**"Damn it!