Author Note: Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Took a minute and this one more so is focused on politcs and world building. The next couple before we reach Shaddiq duel are going to be pretty action packed and the next one is going to be focused on Aiden. Still, thanks for reading. Remember to follow, favorite, review, comment, etc. It greatly helps with my motivation. We are nearly 40 chapters in and I can't wait for you guys to see where all this build up is going!
Reviews
Eternicus: Shit man I thought you stopped reading. Good to see you and I am glad that you enjoyed the chapter. Yeah, Aiden was being a dick, I don't want to make a character that is always morally in the right. But Aiden and Miorine's relationship is complicated, especially, due to the fact that there personalities clash together. However, the added depth of Miorine's feelings are going to be interesting and next chapter is going to have this be a focus on both Suletta and Miorine. Also, yeah, finanly was able to write Deacon and Nika and this isn't going to be the end of there story. Jack's death is going to be pivotal towards the story, and also highlights the horror of Quiet Zero because the reason why they aren't so worried is because right before Jack left...Deacon and Jack talked face to face. Do with this what you will. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
EmeraldMage: I feel like Aiden and Miorine have a lot of chemstry, but there personalites clash, and due to Suletta being thrown into the mix it is obvious who Aiden is going to choose putting Miorine in a strange place. If Suletta was not around...it would be Miorine. And that is a very scary thought that could lead someone to doing something rash. Aiden isn't right with the way he handles his feelings, but Miorine as well...I am trying to link the characters as much to there anime personalites as possible, but also making sure that they are not out of character in moments that go against the main canon. While Aiden isn't wrong for having his feelings hurt, he isn't right in the way e handles them and I feel like that is a negative trait to his character. The war, his soldier stuff, etc. That stuff is going to be handled in the next coming of chapters and that is going to lead to introspection...and character development. They all need therapy lowkey, preferably group, but ironically everyone would do it...except Miorine and Aiden due to pride. I was rewatching some episodes of Witch and I realized just how prideful Miorine can be. I feel that the conflict between Spacien's and Earthian's were one of the more interesting parts of witch, and I am going to try and give that a satisfying conclusion in this fic. Remember, Norea is now an Earthian Newtype. Likewise, I never liked the Newtype powers, etc that seems to be fraught in Gundam. I don't mind certain aspects of it, but I like the definition of what a Newtype is meant to be. Not a conduit of war, but an instrument in which humanity can find understanding...and through understanding peace. I wish to highlight this, especially due to the closing chapters. Miorine's unresolved feelings for Aiden are going to be a component for her character, but Suletta x Aiden...that is going to be solved in a couple of chapters. I know the fic is long, but I am trying to do it right and trying to expand certain characters. I get what you mean about the UC stuff but I just like the mechs from that universe more. If I could redo the fic again, I would've just crossed it over with Gundam UC x Witch, but it's a bit to late for that now lol. Thanks for reading, and I aperciate the comments and reviews. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 37 - Gundam Politcs
Sophie
"Sophie… pass… pass the fucking ball!" Travis's voice boomed, slicing through the clamor of the mess hall. The red-haired girl's laughter rang out, a wild, jubilant sound that echoed off the vessel's cold, metallic walls.
In the makeshift arena, tables shoved aside, chairs lined the perimeter, filled with eager boys and young men hollering and yelling, their voices a chaotic chorus. "Sophie!" they chanted, a rhythmic mantra that filled the space with electric energy.
Sophie bristled with excitement, moving with feline finesse through the room, the ball expertly maneuvered between her legs. Wilkerson, stationed as the goalie, watched her with a determined glint in his eye. "Like hell she's going to get past me!" he bellowed.
Marty, his long legs pumping, ran beside her. "Pass it!" he shouted, urgency lacing his voice.
"Yeah, pass it!" Travis echoed, his frustration mounting. "Stop being a fucking ball hog!" But Sophie's smile was unwavering. A player from the opposing team lunged at her feet, but with a graceful leap, she evaded him, the young soldier crashing into the metal floor with a thud.
Her laughter filled the air as the ball stayed with her. The moment her feet hit the ground, she shouted gleefully, "I've got this!" With all her might, she kicked the ball. It sailed through the air, a blur of motion. Wilkerson's massive frame twisted and pivoted, but it was futile. The ball soared past him, just beyond his outstretched fingers.
"Game point!" someone yelled from the sidelines as the room erupted in a cacophony of delight.
Sophie's eyes closed in triumphant joy, her fist punching the air as she leaped. "That was all me!" she declared, her voice ringing out clear and victorious. Mid-jump, Marty reached her, scooping her up with a snicker. "Sophie, Sophie, Sophie!" he chanted, lifting her high. One hand supported her by the butt, but Sophie didn't mind. She basked in the adulation, her name the center of every cheer.
As the room gradually began to empty, Sophie waved goodbye, her exuberance undimmed. But in the shadows, leaning against the back wall, stood Norea. Her eyes were hollow, dark bags underscoring her weariness as she watched the celebration unfold before her. Her hair, wild and unruly, was a stark contrast to the vibrant scene. She patted it down absently, her gaze fixed on Sophie, whose laughter and energy seemed a world away from Norea's silent, lonely vigil.
"Woah," Sophie muttered breathlessly, using her shirt to fan her sweat-streaked form. "What a game," she chuckled loudly. "For a bunch of soldier boys, they don't know how to play sports for shit." Her laughter echoed, bouncing off the walls of the now-empty mess hall.
Norea wasn't amused. Her eyes lagged for a moment, then snapped wide and alert as she gazed around. "S-sorry, Sophie," she stammered. "I just… I dozed off for a bit, I guess."
Sophie turned to her, eyebrows raised. "What?" Norea stated flatly.
"Norea, you look horrible," Sophie said bluntly. Norea rolled her eyes, but Sophie wasn't deterred. "Don't roll your eyes at me. When was the last time you actually got some proper rest?" she questioned, voice edged with concern.
Norea remained silent, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond Sophie.
"You've just been up reading or drawing," Sophie pressed.
Still silent, Norea turned her head away, avoiding Sophie's piercing stare.
"Norea, you need sleep… usually, it's you telling me to go to sleep," Sophie pointed out, her tone softening. "Norea, did something happen that you want to talk about?"
Norea stayed silent, her expression inscrutable.
Sophie sighed heavily. "I know this is difficult for you, being around so many Spacians, but my time with Marty and the rest, they're all just people… like us."
Norea sneered, a bitter twist to her lips.
Sophie continued, undeterred. "They like the same games, the same foods, they have dreams and hopes. I can get hating people like Delling or the Jeturks or others within the group. But Norea, The Legion, they aren't our enemy."
Norea's eyes narrowed. "This is not about that," she snapped.
"Then what is it?" Sophie asked, her voice gentle but firm.
Norea's silence stretched on, a heavy, oppressive thing.
"Come on, Norea, don't go silent on me," Sophie begged, her anxiety palpable.
Norea let out a chuckle, dark and loose, and Sophie felt a bead of anxiety trickle down her spine. She had never seen Norea act like this before. There was something unsettling in her demeanor, something that made Sophie's heart race with an unnamed fear.
"I think I'm going crazy," Norea confessed, tears welling up and tracing wet paths down her cheeks.
"Oh, Norea...," Sophie whispered, pulling her friend into a sudden embrace. Norea, taller by a few inches, felt the tickle of Sophie's orange hair against her chin. "Crazy people don't know they're going crazy," Sophie murmured, trying to comfort her.
Norea let out a bitter laugh. "I... I've been seeing things," she said flatly, her eyes wide and haunted. "I haven't slept in three days. I keep thinking about it. It had to be my imagination or some cooked-up hallucination..."
"Norea, we've both been in space for a long time. We never really had proper training, and we've..." Sophie began, but Norea cut her off, her voice rising in urgency.
"I saw a boy... in our room after you left. He wasn't there, we talked, and then he disappeared," Norea's voice trembled as she hugged herself, a shudder running along her spine. "I am seeing ghosts in my room."
Sophie placed a comforting hand on her back. "Listen, how about this," she paused, looking up into Norea's eyes with a reassuring smile. "I'll talk to Marty and see what he can..."
"Absolutely not," Norea proclaimed, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself protectively.
"Norea...," Sophie began again, her voice soft.
"No, Sophie," Norea shouted, her tone sharp. "I am not going to get help from that Spacian boy. They'd probably just throw me into the brig for seeing things."
"Don't be ridiculous," Sophie said, trying to keep her voice calm.
"Oh really," Norea spat back. "We pilot Gundams, Sophie. You think Marty, the commander, is going to let someone seeing things pilot a death machine?"
Sophie scratched the back of her head, frustration creeping in. "I get what you mean, but this is not sustainable. They have doctors, medics. They can set you up with a psyche evaluation or give you something to help you sleep..."
But Norea's arms were crossed defensively over her chest, her head tilted stubbornly to the side. Sophie felt anger and annoyance bubbling up. "God, Norea, why do you have to be so... so difficult!" she shouted, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched. "I get that you don't like them, but we took this job and we have to stay with them until we accomplish the mission. Are you going to suffer in silence and loneliness, or are you actually going to make something of your time here?"
Norea tilted her head, about to respond to Sophie, when a boom echoed through the intercoms. "Transport arrival!" The voice reverberated, relentless, alerting everyone in the vicinity. Sophie and Norea exchanged puzzled looks.
"What's that?" Norea asked, her brow furrowed. "We're in deep space. Who could possibly be arriving...?"
Sophie shrugged. "Let's head to the hangar."
They moved swiftly through the steel corridors of the commandeered Jeturk Heavy Industries vessel. The metallic clang of their boots against the floor echoed through the narrow passageways. Prisoners were stowed in the brig, but neither Sophie nor Norea concerned themselves with that—Marty's jurisdiction.
They entered the hangar and took in the sight: a long row of Zaku 1s and 2s lined up against the walls or suspended by chains and cranes to save space. Gundam Uruth, Gundam Thorn, and the Full Armor hung in the air, their forms casting long shadows on the floor below.
A crowd had gathered, and Marty stood among them. Sophie and Norea pushed their way to the front.
"Yo, Sophie," Marty called with a grin, waving them over.
"What's going on?" Norea demanded.
Marty shrugged. "I suppose our benevolent leader and king is gracing us with a supply drop."
Wilkerson chuckled nearby. "Damn near a miracle. Supplies were a rare sight when we had the Titans. Now we're an actual functioning army." He smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Stand by!" Marty shouted as the transport ship approached. The hangar doors of the transport slowly opened, revealing its cargo: large steel crates of munitions, supplies, and medicine descending in controlled lines. The battalion surged forward, eager to grab the precious resources.
"Yo, Travis!" Marty hollered. Travis approached and handed him a tablet. Marty nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Shit, with these numbers, we can arm the company again... but what is a Rick Dom?"
As if on cue, multiple colossal machines descended, their massive frames slowly revealed. The new arrivals were mobile suits painted in blacks, reds, and purples. Their helmets bore a strange plus design, hinting at the pink monocular eye of a Zaku.
These suits were blocky yet exuded a sturdy, almost menacing aura. Jet engines and thrusters lined their frames, suggesting a power far beyond that of the familiar Zaku models.
The hangar was filled with murmurs and awed gasps as the Rick Doms settled into place. The atmosphere was charged with a mix of anticipation and unease, the new arrivals promising a shift in the balance of power within their ragtag army.
"They've got something called a beam bazooka, a new SMG, and some more bazookas, etc.," Travis rambled on, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Marty nodded, absorbing the information. "You know what, Travis? You had to deal with being in a Zaku 1 during the last engagement. How about you get first pick? You can take another Zaku 2 or one of the—"
Travis snickered. "Like hell I'm going to downgrade," he said flatly.
"There are nine more suits," Marty announced, beginning to walk away. The others around him started to disperse, either checking out the mechs or helping with unloading the supplies.
Travis and Wilkerson leaned in, their voices low as they muttered to each other. Marty's eyes, peering through his glasses, caught sight of a familiar figure in the periphery. Sophie, her puffy orange hair unmistakable, was dipping her hand into the medical supplies. His eyes widened as he saw her grasp a bottle of pills and stuff it into her pants. Norea, beside her, cast a nervous glance around as they started to walk out of the room.
Marty's heart pounded as he realized what he was witnessing. His eyes, wide with a mix of disbelief and concern, locked onto Sophie's retreating form. Norea turned around, and their eyes met. In that instant, she knew they were caught.
Connor
Connor stared at the simmering beam bazooka clutched in the metallic grip of his Rick-Dom. The test pilot maneuvered the mecha with precision, showcasing the weapon's raw, devastating power. Each blast echoed through the training center, reverberating off the cold, unyielding walls of the asteroid base.
"Prospera doesn't cut any corners when it comes to weaponry," Marko remarked from behind, his voice carrying a note of admiration.
Connor acknowledged the comment, turning to see Marko approaching. With a sharp motion, he began to salute, but Marko waved it off dismissively.
"At ease, Connor. Maybe I should be saluting you," Marko said, stepping up beside him.
"Sir?" Connor responded, confusion etching lines into his brow.
Marko chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "I'm sorry Prospera dragged you all the way out here. I imagine you had different ideas about your time with the Sons of Harmony," he sighed, leaning his back against the bannister, his gaze distant.
The asteroid's dim lighting cast long shadows across the floor, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. The training center before them stood silent now, the Rick-Dom in a frozen stance, its test concluded.
"If we had these during the fall of Harmony," Connor began, his voice thick with bitterness. He stared at the hulking mech, its pink monocular eye glowing ominously. "Nothing would've stopped us from taking the galaxy... even Earth itself."
Marko shot him a look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You've got mighty big plans, Connor. Keep dreaming. We need people to dream big and to hope."
Connor fell silent, the weight of Marko's words pressing down on him. Marko continued, "You're right, Prospera really does know what she's doing. But tell me, how do you like her? She's mentioned Aiden and the rest. How are they holding up?"
Connor's eyes widened. "You mean the deserters?" he blurted out.
Marko's expression darkened with confusion. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "What sort of misunderstanding made you think the Sons of Harmony were deserters?"
Connor felt Marko's intense stare boring into him, making him regret his words. "For your information, pilot, I was the one who signed the release forms—yes, actual release forms—to get them out."
Connor's eyes widened in disbelief. "Favoritism?" he questioned, his voice barely a whisper. Marko's piercing glare made him instantly regret it.
"Maybe," Marko said, unflinching. "But I am king. Aiden, Deacon, Oscar, and Jack—after losing Dan, they fought hard for years, but their morale was shattered. Deacon didn't want to do it anymore, Oscar was a wreck, and Jack and Aiden... they probably would've gotten themselves killed in kamikaze attacks trying to avenge Dan."
Connor was speechless, his mind reeling. Marko continued, taking a deep breath, "It was a mercy. They fought long and hard. I think they deserve the rest. The life they had—unlike us—they could actually put this war behind them. Maybe that's why I was equally shocked to learn that Prospera was sponsoring them. The universe has a way of bringing people together again."
Connor stood silent, his mind flashing to memories of Jack. Shadows seemed to creep into his vision, and for a moment, he thought he saw something. A flash of a pilot's helmet—Jack's helmet—with a missing chunk, blood and gore...
"Fucking coward," Jack's voice echoed from the shadows, making Connor's blood run cold. "You only won because you shot me through the head. A coward, a kinslayer! Picking off his brother from miles away. Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer!"
Connor's eyes widened with fear, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The shadows twisted, taunting him with the ghost of his past.
And Connor heard the voices of the dead and the lost, echoing from the shadows, calling him kinslayer. Their tones were devoid of warmth, their whispers chilling him to the bone like the icy breath of hell.
"Connor," Marko's voice cut through the haze, sharp and curt. "Are you listening?"
"Excuse me, Sire," Connor responded, snapping back to reality. "I have been very tired, my apologies."
Marko sighed, shaking his head. "It's no problem, but I was asking if you saw anything here. While this was a surprise, I had a feeling Prospera was going to keep one of our guys close." Marko paused, glancing around the cavernous dock, empty save for the towering mobile suit before them. "I want to know what you know. Connor, tell me everything you saw here."
Connor nodded, gathering his thoughts. "Prospera keeps me on a tight leash, but I've managed to break into the vents over my room to traverse when no one is looking. This place is so far off that the security has gotten pretty lazy." Marko chuckled at that. "But, Marko, I don't think Prospera is on our side."
Marko paused, his expression hardening. "No one is on our side, Connor. Save for our brothers and our united purpose. Prospera is going to give us our greatest dream, but have no fear... I don't trust anything that witch says."
"Witch?" Connor echoed, the word feeling strange on his tongue.
Marko snickered. "She knows how to make Gundams... Jeturk Heavy Industries. You familiar with the name?" he questioned.
Connor was quick to mask his reaction, hoping Marko didn't notice the flicker of fear in his eyes. His mind replayed the events of how he had tried to attack those girls, only to end up stabbing the son of that Jeturk CEO. Another reason why the Sons had sent him away—too violent even for their ruthless band.
"Never heard of those sons of bitches before in my life," Connor stated, his voice steady.
Marko shrugged. "The group raised some factory that Prospera had and raided two Gundams. They didn't know exactly what they were carrying, but we sent the Nexus 65th and two Freelancers to apprehend them and recover it... losses were great. One was recovered, the one we specifically needed, but..." Marko's voice trailed off.
"What, sire?" Connor pressed, his curiosity piqued.
"Why were the Gundams made in an Earth factory when all of Prospera's factories are hidden on asteroid belts around Mercury?" Marko's revelation hit Connor like a punch to the gut. Marko continued, "She was very honest about her factories to us, but she only came to us for these Gundams... especially the Full Armor." He chuckled, a dark glint in his eyes. "That one was meant for Aiden Winters, the druid, no... the NewType." Marko shook his head, the word hanging in the air like a curse.
"NewType?" Connor repeated, his brow furrowing. "The hell is that?"
Marko waved his hand dismissively. "It's something that Prospera kept calling the druids of Harmony. She was spouting a lot of mumbo jumbo, but her knowledge surprised me. All the files on the druids burned with Harmony, leaving behind those who survived... Gerald's gone."
Connor's eyes widened. "Gerald? From what?"
"Overdose..." Marko's voice was hollow, a melancholy lacing his tone. "He was never a fighter, but the militia still crammed the nails within him. It was just luck that it awakened his abilities, but it was my hand... that killed him."
Connor sneered. "If you didn't pull the trigger, then you have no responsibility," he stated firmly.
Yet, Marko shook his head. "It isn't that simple... we profited off his visions, and now he lies dead at what, sixteen?" Marko sneered. "Just a bunch of boys trying to pick up the slack of dead fathers and soldiers. Hell, have you even walked through our ranks? The majority of them aren't even of Harmony stock, just a bunch of angry young men at the universe for a multitude of reasons."
A heavy silence hung between them, but Connor pressed on. "You said before that you don't trust Prospera," he stated.
Marko nodded.
"You shouldn't," Connor said, digging into his pockets and pulling out a phone. "Take a look, sire. See what our benevolent benefactor has been doing in secret."
Marko took the phone in his hands and powered it on, his fingers swiping through the photo album. His eyes widened. "What is this?" he demanded, his gaze snapping up to Connor.
"Mobile suits... I was in one of the vents and snapped a couple of pictures, nearly got caught. Don't trust that whole benevolent mom crap she's trying to pull. I don't buy it for a second," Connor stated flatly.
Marko's eyes widened as he focused on a particular photo. It was of a mobile suit, a sleek design of whites, blues, and yellows, with a bipedal, human-like form. The joints had special seals, making them look unnervingly flexible.
"Is this...?" Marko trailed off, his mind racing.
"Yes," Connor confirmed. "That's what she's been hiding. Advanced models, way beyond what she's shared with us."
Marko's expression darkened, his fingers tightening around the phone. "She's been playing us," he muttered, almost to himself.
Connor nodded. "We need to be ready, sire. Whatever game she's playing, it's bigger than we thought."
Marko's gaze remained fixed on the phone, his mind a whirl of thoughts and strategies. "We will be, Connor. We will be."
There were other photos, too. One model had a massive backpack attached, and Marko's eyes widened as he saw the pilot wielding stubby arms to grasp shields, lifting beam weaponry and beam sabers with ease.
"That fucking bitch," Marko proclaimed, his voice low and simmering with fury. "Prospera said it was too expensive and time-consuming to mass-produce mechs with beam weaponry. That's the whole reason I came here for the damn Doms." His teeth clenched so tightly it was a wonder they didn't shatter.
Marko took a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. Slowly, he found his composure, the calm mask slipping back into place.
"Sire," Connor spoke again, voice measured. "There's more. Look at the shields."
Marko's eyes narrowed as he examined the images more closely. "Och's Earth," he muttered, the realization dawning on him. "Prospera is playing both sides of this conflict."
Connor nodded, his expression grave. "I've heard rumors that they call this model a GM, but that's all I know. I had my suspicions. I've heard of Och's Earth, but I thought they were dismantled."
Marko sneered. "The colors and names don't lie. I don't know why Prospera is supplying these Earthians with mass-produced mechs, especially considering our end goals. We were supposed to be scratching each other's backs. Whatever her game is, we can use this to our advantage." His lips curled into a smile, eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
He handed the phone back to Connor. "Seems like Prospera has her own plans. But there's a reason why you've got to have someone loyal to you, always," Marko said. "After this mission, Connor, I'll promote you to Major. Fitting, for someone of your service to The Legion. Heck, when we take Earth, I'll give you a nice chunk of land."
"Sir?" Connor repeated, eyes wide with shock.
Marko laughed, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the empty dock.
Connor took a step forward, his curiosity piqued. "Earth... land? What do you mean?"
Marko chuckled again, savoring the moment. "You're loyal, alright, so I'll clue you in. Prospera and I have plans for after she deploys her super weapon. We've got to cut the universe in half, and we need our own slice of it." His grin was wide, flashing gold teeth that glinted in the dim light.
Connor was silent, awe-struck as Marko continued, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his words.
"Everyone will be rewarded… even Winters and his lot," he commended. "I'll give everyone parts of Earth. Heck, I've heard beautiful tales of Eastern Europe. That was where a bunch of people from original Harmony came from. A new kingdom, a new dynasty." The stars of the galaxy seemed to shine in Marko's eyes as he raised his hand, painting a vision of a grand, imperial future.
"Connor, Prospera has offered us Earth, the moon, and Mars. The rest will go to her, but we'll be able to do as we please… a second Harmony, a Neo Harmony," Marko declared, his words a beacon of promise amidst the uncertainty of their cosmic battleground.
Connor's eyes widened at the magnitude of the proposition. "A new home," he whispered, the weight of such a possibility sinking into his soul.
Marko's smirk held the glint of ambition as he nodded. "Indeed. The Earthians may not welcome it, but the Benrett Group has long been entangled in warfare on their surface. Perhaps it's our turn to shape destiny, to forge a new empire—one that spans the stars," he mused, his voice tinged with fervor.
Silence settled between them, heavy with the weight of destiny. Marko, ever the king, continued with solemn conviction. "We all make mistakes. Don't you think, Connor? We humans need strict supervision. We cannot live on our own. It is my duty as king…my right…mandated by God."
As the gravity of their conversation settled, Marko prepared to depart, but Connor halted him with a whispered urgency. "Wait, Sire," he implored, catching Marko's attention.
"Yes?" Marko prompted, turning back to face him.
Connor hesitated for a moment before revealing his revelation. "There is another thing… I've heard rumors around here, whispers hidden in shadows. People are cautious around me, but their tongues loosen in secret. They say Prospera Mercury has found a way to defeat the Gundam curse."
Marko's eyes sparked with intrigue at the mention of such power. "How?" he demanded, his voice edged with anticipation.
Connor's smirk hinted at hidden knowledge. "…They say Aiden Winter's is the key," he revealed.
Marko's smile widened, a flicker of hope igniting within his gaze. "You're all right, Connor," he praised with a nod. "You may have just saved our war effort. Now that we know Prospera's true colors, we can begin to strategize our counterattack. We will not falter in a second war."
Marko's sigh echoed through the hollow corridors, carrying the weight of unspoken burdens. "Hopefully, Prospera won't keep you here too long. If you see Aiden and the rest… tell them that I hope they are doing okay, and tell Jack that I am taking care of Harmony. His line…" Marko's voice faltered momentarily, a fleeting shadow crossing his features. "Tell Jack that I am doing my job as king. And that I hope he finally found what he was looking for."
Connor's eyes widened briefly before settling into a somber gaze, the weight of Marko's words heavy upon him. "Kinslayer!" The shadows whispered their harsh refrain, taunting him relentlessly as he struggled to push back the fatigue clouding his vision.
"I-I will find and tell him," Connor assured, his voice tinged with resolve.
Marko's sigh held a hint of wistful amusement as he regarded Connor. "A lot must be done, Connor. Prospera was useful… heck, I even let two of her people aid the Nexus 65th, two witches of Earth."
Connor's surprise was palpable. "Witches?" he echoed, disbelief coloring his tone.
Marko nodded solemnly. "Indeed. But we can't trust Prospera anymore. Having two witches trained with their Gundams, loyal to her fully… they're liabilities. Likewise, in the depths of space, hunted down by Jetturk Heavy Industries. Maybe, Ensign Marty will do us a favor and handle them discreetly, don't you think, Major?" A smirk danced upon Marko's lips at the use of the title.
Connor mirrored the smirk, a sense of newfound purpose settling within him. "Major," he repeated, the weight of the title carrying a sense of pride and responsibility.
Guel
Guel stood before his towering Gundam, a monument of power and destruction. Its white and purple design gleamed in the dim light of the hangar, its formidable armaments casting long shadows across the floor. Beside it, his Custom Dilenza seemed insignificant, a mere afterthought in the presence of such overwhelming might.
The heavy footsteps behind him signaled the arrival of another, and Guel turned to see the weathered visage of his father, Vim, approaching.
"Dad," Guel uttered, rushing to meet the older man. He halted before him, emotions swirling within him like a storm.
Vim enveloped his eldest son in a tight embrace, the weight of their shared ordeal hanging heavy between them. "I am glad that you and Laude are all right," he murmured, his voice tinged with relief and sorrow.
"…Dad, Felsi, Kamil, and…" Guel's words faltered, tears threatening to spill over as he struggled to compose himself.
"I know," Vim interjected softly, his gaze reflecting the pain of loss. "I know… their families have already been notified, and every effort will be made to provide for them in their time of need."
"Dad, that doesn't…" Guel started, but he stopped himself, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
Vim let out a weary sigh. "Guel, I understand what you're trying to say. I feel for the lives lost, for your friends and the workers, but I can't bring them back. All I can do is ensure their families are cared for."
There was a moment of silence, and Guel could see a mixture of shock, defeat, and sorrow etched into his father's weathered features as he joined him at the side of the accursed machine.
"Your grandfather would've been appalled if he knew I allowed such a cursed machine," Vim spoke, his voice tinged with regret, his gaze cold as it lingered on the ominous figure before them. "He would've disowned me from the company had he known one of his grandsons had to pilot it."
Guel shook his head. "Father, I did what was necessary… Laude and the others only survived because of the power of this cursed machine," he explained.
Vim's eyes widened, and he turned to Guel. "How is Laude holding up?" he inquired.
"You haven't spoken to him yet?" Guel asked, surprised.
Vim shook his head. "I did, briefly. He was with that girl who adores him," Vim chuckled softly, but the smile quickly faded. "He claims he's fine, but I've seen the battle recordings from the Schwarettez and the surviving Dilenzas. I know what that Harmony brute tried to do to him."
Guel's mind flashed back to the chaos of the space battlefield, where he and Aiden shared a bond forged in fire. They both had taken lives, both survived the crucible of war, but Guel understood the crucial difference: the Dilenza couldn't withstand his brother's prowess, whereas this Gundam could.
"He says he's fine, but I don't buy it for a second," Vim declared. "He watched his friends and colleagues die before his eyes, nearly crushed to death himself. Guel, I know this weighs heavily on you, but when you return to the Academy, keep a close watch on your brother."
Guel nodded, though he hesitated. "I will, father, but Laude is resilient in his own right, and…"
"I'm not questioning his strength, Guel," Vim interjected firmly. "But Laude tends to keep things to himself around me, not so much with you. If he comes to you about anything concerning his mental well-being, or worse, listen to him and report it to me immediately. I won't overreact, but I won't risk losing one of my sons."
A palpable silence settled between father and son, a tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Vim broke the quietude, nodding solemnly toward Guel. "Same goes for you," he stated, his voice a low rumble.
"Me?" Guel echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Vim affirmed with a nod. "This Holder business… we're out of the running," he declared matter-of-factly, observing the shock ripple across Guel's features. Before Guel could interject, Vim raised a hand to halt him. "Guel, the situation has progressively worsened. The Legion was decimated a year or two ago, Harmony lies in ruins, yet a battalion armed with strange, mass-produced mobile suits managed to launch an assault on us."
He shook his head in disbelief. "This could escalate into a war… and I know the Legion has been itching for a full-scale conflict with the Benrett Group for years."
"Then let's fight them," Guel declared, his fist clenched in defiance. "They struck first, so we…"
But Vim cut him off with a shake of his head. "Guel, stop being so stubborn," he chided, surprising Guel. "I don't want us making any rash moves. First, Laude was attacked by one of these Harmony fanatics… then Prospera came to me and…"
"Prospera," Guel interjected.
"Yes, Prospera Mercury," Vim confirmed flatly. "She has a daughter in your class who's taken a liking to the new Holder, but… she approached me with threats to back off. I didn't heed her warning. Now, Laude was nearly killed, my workers, the ship, and both you and Laude were almost murdered."
Guel's eyes widened. "You believe Prospera Mercury is…" he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Vim sneered. "I don't believe, I know," he asserted flatly. "That's why I'm proceeding with caution… We raided that factory, and I intend to find out who it belongs to. Let me put it plainly: Laude's attack was strike one, a private army nearly took both of your lives as strike two. If we persist… what will be strike three?" Vim questioned pointedly.
Guel was stunned, his mind spinning with his father's words. "You mentioned Prospera threatened you?" he asked, seeking clarification.
Vim nodded grimly. "She's got leverage over us, Guel. For now, I'm content knowing we have a super weapon on our side."
Guel fell into a weighted silence, the weight of his father's words bearing down on him like a heavy cloak. Vim, however, pressed on, his tone firm but tinged with an underlying current of concern.
"The Holder Race," Vim began, his voice cutting through the tension that hung heavy in the air. "Word has it that after Elan Ceres, the Academy's duels have become increasingly intense. If you must duel, do so with your Dilenza, but I will not sanction the use of the Gundam under any circumstances."
Guel's eyes flashed with incredulity. "Why not?" he demanded, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
Vim's expression betrayed a flicker of surprise at his son's defiance. "You know exactly why, Guel. Those machines are cursed," he retorted, his voice edged with frustration.
"But that didn't stop you from creating one," Guel shot back, his tone laced with bitterness.
Vim's features darkened with anger at his son's insubordination, but he let out a heavy sigh, his resolve softening slightly. "If it helps, Guel, everyone in the Benrett Group has their own secrets and motivations. The Gundam we possess is strikingly similar to the Aerial unit. So similar, in fact, that they both must be Gundams."
"And how does Suletta Mercury use her mech without encountering the same issues?" Guel pressed, his frustration evident in his voice. "I faced off against the second Gundam, and it—"
"The Full Armor," Vim interjected, his frustration evident as he ran a hand through his hair. "We were fortunate to recover one of them. But that unit was armed to the teeth, providing undeniable evidence of Prospera's Gundam production."
Understanding dawned in Guel's eyes. "So that's why you were taking it back to the academy? So Delling could examine it."
Vim merely shrugged, a sense of resignation settling over him. "Let Delling have his way with those Harmony dogs and those unhinged witches. Guel, I can sense the storm on the horizon—the fires of war are coming. I won't have you, your brother, or our company caught in the crossfire. We may profit, but I refuse to interfere."
"But, Dad, I can win," Guel insisted, his gaze flickering toward the Gundam. "Just one duel against Aiden Winters in that thing, and I'll regain my status as a Holder. I promise—"
Vim's agitation intensified, his head shaking more vigorously. "Guel, are you even listening to me? We're done with the race, done with making Gundams, done with risking our lives," he declared firmly, his breaths measured as he sought to regain his composure. "Focus on completing your schooling. It's been a trying time. Spend time with your friends, your brother, and—"
Guel's eyes blazed with frustration and defiance. "I can do it, Dad, please!" he pleaded desperately.
Vim paused, his gaze unwavering as he regarded his son—the heir to the Jetturk name and legacy. "Guel, if I discover that either you or Laude have even touched the controls of that Gundam... I will withdraw you both from the Academy. And that's not an empty threat."
Guel stood in stunned silence as Vim's words washed over him like a bitter tide.
"There are other esteemed institutions, other academies where you and Laude can thrive," Vim continued, his tone heavy with concern. "Attistica may be prestigious, but I will not risk the lives of my sons. If you cannot overcome your animosity towards Winters and throw yourself into a race that's clearly rigged... I will do what I must as your father, as your protector."
Vim's words hung in the air, a solemn decree that seemed to weigh heavily upon Guel's shoulders. His eyes, once filled with defiance, now dulled with resignation as they fell to the cold, metallic floor.
"Guel," Vim reiterated, his voice tinged with a pleading note. "I'm doing this for you and Laude. Please, understand. I'm not angry about losing your Holder position anymore. Just enjoy your time at school and focus on your studies."
A gentle touch on Guel's shoulder brought him back from the depths of his thoughts. He looked up to see his father's eyes, clouded with a vulnerability that caught him off guard. Vim's hand lingered for a moment before he turned away, his words trailing after him like wisps of smoke.
"I've lost your mother... I've lost Laude's mother. What kind of man loses two of the women he loves?" Vim's voice wavered, revealing a depth of pain that Guel had never seen before. With a final pat on his son's shoulder, Vim moved towards the door. "I may have failed your mothers, but I won't fail you and Laude. Get some rest... we'll return to Attistica tomorrow."
As the doors closed behind him, Guel was left alone with his thoughts. His father's words echoed in his mind, but they were soon drowned out by a cacophony of other voices.
His gaze drifted to the imposing figure of the Gundam, a monument to his failures. He had been defeated by Aiden Winters, a mere upstart from the outskirts, a mutant, a war criminal. The shame of his defeat burned within him like a branding iron.
Thoughts of Miorine's disdain, of Suletta Mercury's words of strength mingled with memories of Ceres, Shaddiq, Cecilia. They hadn't bested him, but the humiliation lingered like a bitter aftertaste.
And then, there was Ensign Marty. Dark-haired, with piercing brown eyes behind glasses, a vessel for anger and rage. Guel's fists clenched at the memory of their confrontation, the desire for vengeance burning hot within him.
"Next time, Ensign Marty," Guel vowed, his voice a low growl. "Next time, it will be different."
And as he stared into the impassive gaze of the Gundam, his father's words faded into the background, mere echoes in the vast expanse of his rage-fueled determination.