The setting sun shone on the Shamblo's wreckage, casting a twisted yet strangely beautiful shadow across the ground. A weapon born from human ingenuity now stood like a broken, collapsing statue upon the earth.
Although the Shamblo had stopped exploding, thick smoke still drifted from its frame, and from time to time certain parts of its skeleton—softened by continuous high heat would glowing red then snap and fall away.
The ground was covered with scorched marks left by high-energy beams, and scattered everywhere were pieces of armor and parts that had fallen off the Shamblo. A damaged MS lay quietly on the ground, surrounded by white and blue-gray debris.
"Pssht…"
With the sound of some kind of hatch opening, the spherical cockpit parked at the base of a hill opened. A small shoulder bag was tossed out by the person inside and landed on the ground.
Then, wearing a pilot suit, Roz Links slipped out of the tilted hatch and fell onto the dirt.
"Ugh… my back."
Roz pressed a hand to his lower back as he stood up, removing his helmet with his right hand.
"I told you, didn't I? We definitely needed an ejection mechanism for the cockpit. Look—it came in handy."
Big Haro jumped out of the cockpit, bounced lightly twice on the ground, then leapt with just the right force to land steadily on Roz's left shoulder.
"But at this rate, I might really end up following Char's path and turning into an ejection-type Newtype."
After stretching his body a bit, Roz picked up the shoulder bag and pulled out a wrench.
He shook the wrench lightly, feeling its familiar weight, and walked toward the prototype psy-frame unit attached to the cockpit.
"All right all right, stop wasting time. The program's already been backed up and fully formatted. Only these few psy-frame blocks are left."
To avoid smacking Roz in the face with its wings, Big Haro flapped only one side.
"Once you're done, hurry up and go scavenging. Get a communicator put together. I don't want you stranded here living off the land."
"There's no way I'd be doing wilderness survival. This is Orb territory. There might already be Orb warships nearby."
Roz smoothly detached one psy-frame block, wiped the dust off with his sleeve, and stuffed it into the pocket of his pilot suit.
After all, each psy-frame block was only the size of a palm—it wasn't like they took much space. It was basically like having four phones stuffed in his pocket.
Meanwhile, Big Haro kept chattering nonstop, as if still unsettled about Roz's recent brush with death.
"Do you know that ever since I got the money, I've been nonstop adjusting the production line to build your machine's frame? Why do I still have to work overtime even after coming all the way here!?"
Though it sounded like ordinary complaining, Roz could clearly feel Haro's deep hatred for the concept of "overtime."
"I get it, I get it. From now on I won't fight so recklessly."
He could only try to comfort Big Haro as he shoved the last psy-frame block into his pocket.
"…Forget it. Don't change. You're my executor—if I don't side with you, who else would I side with?"
Haro flapped its wings a few times before letting them settle again.
"I'll just work harder. Truly a life of endless toil."
The idea of not working overtime was tempting, but if Roz changed his combat style, became hesitant, and ended up in a life-or-death crisis again, Haro would never forgive itself. After a brief moment of serious thought, Big Haro accepted the reality that it might still need to work overtime.
After all—occasional overtime is better than working overtime all year, right?
Roz tossed the wrench back into the shoulder bag, then pulled out a handgun. After checking its condition, he slung the bag over his shoulder.
The auxiliary handgun—also called the "Wingman"—despite its name, was powerful enough to effortlessly blow open the skull of a fully grown black bear.
"Let's go. Time to scavenge."
Roz walked toward the Shamblo's wreckage, heading into the sunset.
"One gun at the start, and all the gear has to be scavenged."
"Isn't the phrase 'one person and one dog at the job, and all gear has to be scavenged'?" (T/N: Fallout reference.)
Big Haro seemed to enjoy the atmosphere, swaying slightly on Roz's shoulder but never losing balance.
"Where are we supposed to get a dog?"
"Then I'll play your dog. Woof woof."
"…Bro, seriously, no need for that."
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Only when Roz Links walked up to these mechanical wrecks could he recall that feeling of shock he once had when he stood beneath the Jegan A-type, looking up at the machine that had come from his own hands.
The steel giant created by humans—even with its body now broken—still held a unique kind of beauty.
Roz held his auxiliary pistol, carefully inspecting the area. After stepping over a fragment of a DINN, he saw the Duel Gundam, already blown into a huge ruined mass.
Clearly, Duel Gundam had taken the Jesta's self-destruction head-on, exhausting the last of its power just to keep the cockpit intact.
"Big Haro, I'm going over there to take a look."
Staring at the wrecked Duel Gundam, Roz raised his auxiliary pistol and walked toward its remains.
"Don't worry, I'll cover you."
From under one of its wings, Big Haro extended a mechanical claw, faint sparks flickering over it—obviously, she had equipped herself with an electric shock module.
Roz climbed up along one of the Duel Gundam's armor gaps with practiced ease, reaching the cockpit area.
Looking at the tightly sealed cockpit, Roz scratched his head, pacing around it in circles, trying to find the emergency opening mechanism.
Fortunately, since it used the same frame structure as the Strike Gundam, the Duel's emergency opener was located in the same place. Roz easily found the flip cover, pulled the lever hidden inside, and with the movement of internal machinery, the Duel's cockpit opened.
Roz raised his gun skillfully, shifting his stance repeatedly to avoid getting shot if the pilot inside opened fire. But after spending more than ten minutes fighting a psychological battle with nothing but air, no sound came from within. Faced with this situation, Roz and Big Haro exchanged a glance, then each leaned in from one side of the cockpit to look inside.
A pilot wearing a red normal suit lay slumped in the seat, head tilted, apparently knocked unconscious by the shock from the Jesta's explosion.
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"Clang… clang… clang…"
Some kind of metal-knocking sound echoed in Yzak Joule's ears, making his originally calm expression twist into something ferocious.
Finally, when Yzak's patience reached its limit, he subconsciously sat up, tore off the helmet on his head, and threw it toward the source of the noise.
"Can't you let a person sleep?! Bastard!"
Silence seemed to fall over the area for a moment, and only then—now fully awake from his dazed slumber—did Yzak realize his situation.
He was still wearing his normal suit. His left hand was bound by some metal bar that had been picked up somewhere and fashioned into a makeshift chain, fastening him to the Duel Gundam.
It still allowed him some freedom of movement, but reaching the weapons Roz Links had placed far away was impossible. The only things within reach were the campfire used for warmth and a blue Haro.
Speaking of which—why did this Haro have a black ring drawn around its eyes? Was it supposed to be some "dark circles" paint scheme?
Yzak checked the chain on his left hand and frowned. Without tools, breaking it open would be difficult, especially not without Roz noticing.
And the person who chained him…
Yzak lifted his head and saw a young man wearing a pilot suit that was entirely white with a little red trim—and that wrench in his hand was clearly the source of the knocking noise.
But when he saw the familiar emblem on the youth's white normal suit, Yzak's eyes sharpened.
"Eat. The battle is over—temporarily."
Roz casually took a heated self-heating ration and tossed it at Yzak.
"I announce that your treatment here follows the Geneva Convention for prisoners of war."
"The Geneva Convention for prisoners of war… what kind of outdated rule is that? Cub, you don't need to humiliate me like this."
Yzak instinctively reached out to catch the ration pack, preventing the scorching-hot package from smacking into his already battered face.
"Killing me outright would better match your interests, wouldn't it? You're an Coordinator who willingly serves as a lackey for Naturals."
"So that's how it is… the same thinking as that Desert Tiger, Andrew."
Roz didn't respond to Yzak's mockery or sarcasm; their assumptions were far from reality anyway.
"Let me correct one thing first—I'm a genuine Natural. At least for now, that's how it is."
"And contrary to what you think, I didn't volunteer to fight for the Earth Forces. This was just a transaction."
Roz raised his head. Meeting Yzak's angry glare, he spoke calmly. "You all destroyed the place I lived—Heliopolis. The Archangel can take me back to Orb. In exchange, I protect their safety until then. It's fair."
"For a reason like that, you just joined in so casually…"
Yzak seemed to want to continue, but the raging emotions—like magma bursting out—reached his throat only to leave him speechless.
"You killed so many of our comrades, and you want to excuse yourself with that kind of reason?"
Roz narrowed his eyes slightly. Yzak felt the atmosphere shift—not back to calm, but as if the storm was about to hit. Roz set down the wrench in his hand and turned fully toward Yzak.
"I've never intended to excuse myself. As for shooting down those units like you said—of course I admit it."
Roz took a deep breath, as if trying to calm his own emotions.
"But you also have plenty of Earth Forces pilots' blood on your hands. So why would you ask something like that?"
"If you can't accept the possibility of being killed by someone else, why get inside a mobile suit and pull the trigger?"
"…That's for victory in the war. For a peaceful future for Coordinators."
Yzak opened his mouth, but all he could produce was this hollow declaration.
"A peaceful future? Haven't you realized it yet?!"
Roz suddenly rushed up and grabbed Yzak by the collar. In his eyes burned a kind of flame.
"You who use cloned soldiers as weapons of war—just like Blue Cosmos—you will only make this war go on forever!"
"Then you tell me—how is this war supposed to end?!"
Yzak wanted to fight back, but starving as he was, he couldn't mount any real resistance. All he could do was glare and retort, "Right now, only one side between Naturals and Coordinators can exist!"
"Then let this world have neither Naturals nor Coordinators."
Roz's words brought silence to the scene, leaving only the crackling of firewood in the flames.
Big Haro watched the confrontation from the side with great interest.
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