The Vehicle Bay Level 2 was a cathedral of larger ambitions. The air smelled of hot ozone and hydraulic fluid. In the center of the expanded space, the assembly jigs had been reconfigured for something longer, lower, and deadlier than the Legionnaire. The SPG-1 'Catapult' was not a tank. It was a mobile thunderstorm.
Its chassis was similar to the Legionnaire's, but its turret was a massive, open-topped box, housing a 155mm coil-assisted howitzer. Its barrel was shorter, thicker, built to lob high-explosive or guided shells in a high, punishing arc over obstacles. It had a secondary, automated loading system and a sophisticated ballistic computer linked to scout drones. It was the King of Battle. And it was his.
But first, he had to pay the piper. The forced Trifecta had strained his Nexuses. Gamma-7 was stable but operating at 88% efficiency. Sigma-5 was worse, fluctuating between 60% and 75%, requiring constant monitoring from E-001 at the FOB. The power surge for the Bay upgrade had also drained his Essence reserves critically low. He was running on fumes, with a half-built god of war in his garage.
The Catapult's cost was eye-watering: 180 Advanced Salvage, 250 Essence, 30 Vehicle-Grade Plates. He had the plates. He had 85 Advanced Salvage left after the Bay upgrade. He needed 95 more. And Essence.
The ruined Convergence was picked clean. The only remaining large-scale source was the one guarded by the forest of Colossi: the carrier wreck at Omicron-22. He couldn't take it yet. But he could nibble at the edges.
"Sergeant," Isaac said, studying the enhanced scans from the Bay's new sensors. "The perimeter of Omicron-22. The Colossi are concentrated around the carrier and the mountain's base. But the energy bleed from the corrupted Nexus has created deposits of Corrupted Crystallite in the outlying foothills. Lower grade than Adamantite, but convertible. Are there patrols there?"
The Sergeant overlayed patrol patterns. "Affirmative. Light patrols of Shredderlings and Phase-Stalkers. The Colossi do not routinely leave the inner cordon. The crystallite deposits are scattered but substantial."
It was a risk. A raid on the very doorstep of the enemy's strongest holdfast. But with the Legionnaires and the Scouts, it might be possible. A high-speed grab-and-run. They wouldn't be stealing the crown jewels, but the loose change from its pockets. It might be enough to finish the Catapult.
He named it Operation Pickpocket.
The force was his best: both Legionnaires (V-002 and V-003), the Ghost scout car (with the Sergeant driving), and the two Scouts (S-001, S-002) for forward observation. They would move at night, using the terrain, strike a pre-identified cluster of crystallite deposits four kilometers from the nearest Colossus, and be gone before a meaningful response could form.
They rolled out under the cover of a dust storm that had kicked up, a shroud of black grit that reduced visibility to a hundred meters but also masked sound and thermal signatures. The Legionnaires moved like ghosts in the gloom, their sensors painting the world in false color.
They reached the foothills. The crystallite deposits glowed on the sensors—jagged, violet outcroppings of corrupted crystal growing from the rock. They were sizable, each the size of a ground car.
"V-002, provide overwatch on that ridge. V-003, move to Deposit Alpha. Use your dozer blade to break it free. Ghost, keep a sensor sweep for patrols. Scouts, flank security."
The operation was clockwork. V-003 extended its heavy front-mounted dozer blade and drove it into the base of the crystalline formation. With a grating screech-crunch, the entire mass broke loose. The tank then used its blade to push the multi-ton chunk of crystal into a waiting net spread by the Ghost and the Scouts.
They loaded two more deposits with the same brutal efficiency. The haul was tremendous. Their cargo nets were full, the Ghost's sled overloaded.
Then, S-001's tense whisper over the comms. "Contact. Multiple Colossi signatures… moving. Not toward us. They're forming a cordon… between us and home."
Isaac checked the tactical feed from the Bastion's long-range sensors. The Sergeant was right. Three Colossi had detached from the mountain base and were moving with surprising, ground-shaking speed not to intercept the raiding party, but to cut off their retreat route. They were being herded.
The Gloom had learned. It wasn't just reacting; it was anticipating. It had let them take the bait, and was now slamming the trap shut.
"Abandon the haul!" Isaac ordered. "All units, form on V-002. We're punching through. Sergeant, plot the thinnest point in their cordon."
"The eastern pass. It is narrow. Two Colossi are converging there, but they will be forced to approach single-file. We have a ninety-second window."
"Go! Fast and hard! Main guns, target the lead Colossus's legs. We don't need to kill it, we need to cripple it and get past."
The force dropped the priceless crystallite and surged into motion. The Legionnaires led, their turbines screaming. They reached the narrow pass just as the first Colossus, a walking mountain of stone and glowing sinew, stepped into the gap, blocking it completely.
"Fire!"
Both Legionnaires fired simultaneously. Twin hypersonic darts of tungsten struck the creature's forward knee joint from four hundred meters. The limb didn't just break; it vaporized in a cloud of shattered rock and black ichor. The Colossus roared, a sound of shearing continents, and toppled forward, its massive body crashing down to block half the pass.
"Go around! Through the gap! Now!"
The armored column swerved, threading the needle between the fallen Colossus and the canyon wall. The second Colossus was right behind, its massive fist coming down in a blow that would have crushed a Legionnaire flat. V-003, the rear guard, took the glancing blow on its rear turret. Armor screamed, composites cracked, but it held. The tank lurched forward, shedding pieces of its rear stowage.
They broke into the open plain, leaving the enraged titans bellowing in the narrow pass behind them. They didn't stop. They ran flat-out for the Bastion, the damaged V-003 trailing smoke.
They had lost the haul. They had taken damage. But they had learned a terrifying, vital lesson: the Gloom around Omicron-22 was not just strong; it was tactically intelligent. It had set a trap.
Back in the Vehicle Bay, as engineers swarmed over V-003's cracked armor, Isaac stared at the blank spot in his resource ledger where the crystallite should have been. He had nothing to show for the risk but a damaged tank and a chilling new understanding of his enemy.
The Catapult sat half-built, a silent accusation. He was so close. But the final stretch to its completion was across a minefield guarded by a thinking, adaptive enemy. The King of Battle was needed now more than ever, but the path to building it had just become a war of wits against an opponent that was starting to think like him.