After the crawler armor stopped struggling—after the screaming finally ceased—Dwordoug loosened his grip. His armor's construction claw released the crawler leader and let the ruined machine fall to the floor below.
What remained was the pilot.
A boiled body, slumped lifelessly inside the torn cockpit.
"…Dwordoug?" Hilda said.
Dwordoug turned his armor toward her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Hilda hesitated.
"You… saved me…" she said softly.
"Well…" Dwordoug scratched the back of his head, the white armor mimicking the motion. "You roast me all the time, but that doesn't mean I want to see you get roasted."
He paused, then added honestly,
"After all… you're the only one I love in this world."
Hilda's face blushed heavily.
"Keee Keeee"
"Oh?" Dwordoug raised his arm, displaying his beam sword. "Shawshank wants to say he's happy that you're safe."
Hilda stared at the weapon's hilt. The shape was familiar.
"…That's the pickaxe?" She said.
Shawshank was now very visibly the hilt and cross-guard of the beam sword.
"It can do that?"
"Apparently, yes." Dwordoug showed his bleeding palm. "Blood contract. Typical demon nonsense."
He scoffed.
"Keee~" Shawshank chirped proudly.
BOOM
A cannon impact slammed into the wall above them.
Dwordoug looked up. Across the hangar floor below, two enemy crawler armors were still active—still moving.
"Tch…" Dwordoug muttered. "Guess we're not done yet. I gotta go."
As he turned, Hilda called out to him.
"Dwordoug… that's just a worker armor…" she said quietly. "…Be careful."
Dwordoug smiled.
"Heh. Did you forget?" he said. "Cinderclaws wasn't the only ex-elite around here."
He moved his white armor onto the ledge—and leapt.
"Let's go, Shawshank!"
"KEEEEEEEEE~!"
The armor sailed toward one of the massive concrete beams supporting the cavern. Dwordoug drove Shawshank's beam blade straight into the concrete, grinding sparks as he slid downward, using the blade to slow his descent.
The two crawler armors fired at him, cannon shots streaking past.
Behind him, Hilda and the surviving engineer stared, stunned in awe.
"Oooh…" the engineer muttered. "A white shining armor…"
"Are you trying to be funny, private?!" Hilda snapped.
"Huh?!" the engineer jumped. "N-No, ma'am! It just because I—uh—I shine polished that white armor yesterday!"
"…Ah."
---
AA Cruiser
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
KABOOOOM
Cupid's autocannon tore through another airship. The target erupted, spinning out of control as it veered away.
But there was no time to celebrate.
Three airships remained—and they were closing in.
SPLAASH SPLAASH SPLAASH — KABOOM
"KYAAAA!"
Enemy shells hammered the water around her cruiser, towering pillars erupting around the ship. One shell struck the stern, rocking the vessel violently.
"DON'T PANIC!" Cupid screamed. "THIS SHIP CAN TAKE MORE THAN THAT!!"
The young engineer from earlier sprinted toward her, dragging a fresh ammunition box.
"THAT'S RIGHT HANDSOME BOY! KEEP THE AMMO COMING!" Cupid shouted into her comm as she kept firing.
---
Goldenclaws Lead Airship
The Goldenclaws commander observed both fronts—the forest bombardment and the cruiser engagement.
"Sir," a comm officer reported, "Crawler team reports only two units remaining."
"Tch!" The commander clicked his tongue in irritation.
"They are currently engaging Dwordoug Axebreaker at the lowest level of the base," the officer continued.
"…Hmm. At least we found Dwordoug," the commander muttered.
He glanced back toward the forest, still burning under bombardment.
"It's time to finish the job," he said sharply. "Call the Serpent Division!"
"Aye, sir!"
---
Forest, North Side
Unseen by the airships still focused on bombing the forest, four figures waited at the edge of a cliff.
Cinderclaws.
Dancer.
Vixen.
And one very nervous young pilot.
They stared down the sloped cliff face—and at the airships about to pass below.
Cinderclaws calculated silently. Not yet.
"Dude," Dancer said casually to the young pilot, "it's actually pretty ballsy you're joining us."
"You didn't have to, you know," Vixen added.
"I—I trust Sir Cinderclaws," the young pilot said nervously. "He's my childhood hero. The Red-Sledge who vanquished enemies with his sledgehammer."
"GET READY!" Cinderclaws barked. "Three. Two. One—GO!"
FWOOOOSH
Cinderclaws dashed first, his armor charging down the slope. Dancer, Vixen, and the young pilot followed, accelerating as fast as possible.
"You know," Dancer said mid-dash, "that's not why Cinderclaws is called Red-Sledge."
"Huh?" the young pilot gasped.
"He got the nickname because one winter," Vixen added calmly, "he returned from a mission riding a sledge—"
"—filled with the bloodied bodies of his subordinates," Dancer finished.
"What?!!" the young pilot shouted.
"HOHOHOHO!" Cinderclaws laughed. "Good ol' days!"
They hit the slope at full speed—and launched into the sky.
WHOOOOOSH
"OOOHHH FUUUUUUUUUCK!" the young pilot screamed.
They slammed onto the top of the nearest airship, rolled, skidded across the hull. Rough—but somehow survived.
"…Whew," Cinderclaws said, standing. "We actually made it."
"HAHAHAHA! That was fun, sir!" Dancer laughed.
"I want to find a new job," Vixen muttered.
The young pilot could only gasp for air.
"All right!" Cinderclaws commanded. "No time to lose!"
They aimed their cannons at the bridge of the middle airship.
"Light 'em up!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
Cannon fire hammered the bridge. Windows shattered. Crew were struck, others scrambling for cover.
"Director! I saw armors flying! Is that you?!" Cupid's voice crackled over the comm.
"Yep!" Cinderclaws replied. "Told you I'd come! Try not to shoot the airship on your left!"
"Hahaha! Copy that, Director!" Cupid answered.
Under the barrage, the middle airship broke formation and began ascending desperately.
"Heh. They're running," Cinderclaws grinned.
"Cupid, handle the ones on your right. We'll take this one."
"Copy that, Director. Thanks for the assist."
The four armors began scaling down the airship.
Their target: the bridge.
---
Inside the Airship
"What do they mean there are armors flying to my airship?!" the captain barked.
"I—I don't understand either, sir!" the comm officer stammered. "That was the last message from Crone 4 before they broke formation and lost contact!"
"Who is crazy enough to fly an ar—"
The captain froze.
Four armored figures clung outside the bridge windows.
Cannons aimed inward.
Knock Knock
Cinderclaws armor gently tapped the glass.
"Hello there," he grinned. "Congratulations. You're the first airship ever hijacked mid-flight."
Every dwarf in the bridge raised their hands.
KABOOM
Behind them, the final airship exploded under Cupid's flak fire, burning and spiraling away in thick black smoke.
"Hohoho, nice work, Cupid," Cinderclaws said into his comm.
"Likewise, Director," Cupid sighed in relief. "Likewise… I need drinks…"
---
Goldenclaws Lead Airship
"Sir… we lost Crone 3 and 5," a nervous officer reported. "Crone 4 is heavily damaged and combat ineffective…"
The commander's expression darkened.
"Serpent Division ETA?" he asked flatly.
"Three minutes, sir."
The commander exhaled through his nose.
"…Stop the bombardment," he said coldly. "Pull us back to a safe distance. We regroup with the Serpent Division before continuing the assault."
"A-Aye, sir!"
The remaining two Goldenclaws airships ceased their forest bombardment and began withdrawing, moving farther away from the battlefield.
---
Underground Hangar
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
One crawler armor continued firing its cannon wildly at Dwordoug. Shells slammed into the floor and walls around him as he advanced at full speed, holding Shawshank's broad side in front of his open cockpit as a shield.
"WHAT IS THAT STUPID SWORD?!" the crawler pilot screamed.
CRASH
"UGH!"
Dwordoug slammed into the crawler armor, tackling it head-on. The size difference was overwhelming—his heavier armor easily flipped the enemy onto its back.
"KEE! KEE!" Shawshank chirped angrily.
"Shawshank says he's not stupid," Dwordoug said as he raised the blade. "He's awesome."
THUNK
The blade plunged straight into the downed armor's cockpit. Dwordoug twisted it hard until the crawler armor stopped moving completely.
Only then did he pull Shawshank free.
Dwordoug turned his head toward the other crawler armor he had defeated earlier. Hilda and two soldiers were approaching it, rifles trained. When the soldiers forced the cockpit open—
"Dwordoug!" Hilda shouted. "This pilot escaped!"
"Tch," Dwordoug muttered. "HE MUST BE HIDING NEARBY!"
---
Not far from Dwordoug's position, tucked into a dark corner of the hangar, the wounded crawler pilot was hiding. Blood ran down his side, but his glare was sharp as he aimed his hand cannon toward Dwordoug's exposed cockpit.
"Why, hello there."
The pilot flinched.
Behind him stood a limping demon with a broken leg—one of the Muricans.
"Are you hurt, soldier?" the demon asked calmly.
The pilot hesitated. He assumed the demon hadn't realized he was an enemy.
"…Yes," the pilot answered.
Levi smiled.
"And are you trying to assassinate the Grand Marshal?"
"Yes. What?! NO!"
The pilot panicked, horrified that his mouth talking by itself.
"That's a serious crime, don't you think?" Levi took a step closer.
"Yes, it is. WHAT THE HELL?!"
The pilot snapped his hand cannon toward Levi. "What's happening?! Why I keep answering you?!"
"Oh," Levi replied softly, "you just happen to be under my control now."
His smile sharpened.
"Since you answered my first question."
Levi clapped his hands cheerfully.
"Now, my next question. What is the punishment for your crime under Dwarven law?"
"It's death. FUCK!"
The pilot's hand suddenly moved on its own, turning the hand cannon toward his own head.
"No—no! I can't control my hand…!"
He grabbed his wrist with his other hand, struggling desperately, but the force was too strong. The barrel pressed against his temple.
Levi stepped closer, looming in front of him, smiling wickedly.
"And now for my last question," Levi said coldly.
"Can you please punish yourself?"
"Yes, I can.—YOU FUCKING MON—"
BOOM
The pilot's head exploded. Blood splattered across the wall—and across Levi's cheek.
Levi stood silently.
He wiped the blood from his cheek with a finger and studied it for a moment. Slowly, he raised his finger toward his mouth—
Then stopped.
"No, no, no, Levi. What are you thinking?"
He shook his head and pulled his finger away.
Levi took out a handkerchief, carefully wiping the blood from his finger and cheek. He walked away, leaving the headless body behind.
"You're a modern gentledemon now," he muttered to himself.
"You can't eat something without proper cutlery. You're not a savage like Stan."
---
When Levi emerged from the corner, Dwordoug, Hilda, and several soldiers were already aiming their weapons at him. They had all heard the gunshot.
"Minister?" Dwordoug asked. "We heard a gunshot. What happened?"
"Ah, that was the Goldenclaws pilot," Levi replied casually. "He simply learned about his mistake."
"Huh?" Dwordoug frowned.
"WE FOUND THE PILOT! HE'S DEAD!" a soldier shouted from the corner.
"Well," Hilda said, lowering her weapon, "I guess that's the last of them down here."
"What about the enemy above?" Dwordoug asked.
Hilda immediately activated her comm.
"Cinderclaws, come in," she said. "What's the situation outside?"
A pause.
"…Not good," Cinderclaws' voice finally replied. "Not good at all…"
---
Outside Boulderhelm Base
At the fjord, Cupid's cruiser now floated side by side with the Goldenclaws airship Cinderclaws had hijacked.
Cinderclaws stood on the cruiser deck beside Cupid. Both stared up at the sky in silence—then horror.
"The Goldenclaws just brought in reinforcements," Cinderclaws said into the comm.
Above the horizon, eighteen enemy airships emerged.
New.
Fresh.
And very, very motivated.