The air was thick with the scent of burnt metal and charred remains, a grim testament to the carnage that had unfolded. Smoke curled from the wreckage, mingling with the acrid stench of burning flesh. Medic stood amidst the ruin, adjusting his gloves with a sharp snap. His ever-present grin widened as he admired the intricate design of the Teigu now affixed to his arm. Perfector pulsed faintly, its mechanisms whirring in harmony with his own heartbeat. He flexed his fingers, feeling the power flow through his veins like an intoxicating rush. A giddy chuckle escaped him.

The moment of indulgence was short-lived.

A shadow loomed over the battlefield, an overwhelming presence of raw, disciplined power. The sound of heavy boots crunching against the debris echoed with measured purpose. Each step was precise, unfaltering, as if belonging to a machine rather than a man. A towering figure emerged from the haze, cutting through the remnants of smoke and destruction with an aura of unshakable resolve.

Susanoo was a force of nature given humanoid form, a biological weapon designed for absolute efficiency in battle. His towering frame radiated unwavering discipline, each movement calculated and deliberate. His dark, neatly tied hair framed a face of cold detachment, his amber eyes filled not with rage or malice, but with pure, tactical assessment. There was no hesitation in his posture, no wasted movement. His ornate yet practical attire—a fusion of battle regalia and imperial design—served as a stark reminder of his constructed perfection. Every muscle in his body coiled with latent power, awaiting the signal to strike. He surveyed the battlefield, his gaze locking onto Medic with unwavering focus, flicking briefly to the remains of Dr. Stylish sprawled at his feet. Then, his conclusion was reached.

"Enemy detected. Engaging."

His voice was steady, devoid of emotion. No theatrics, no hesitation—only execution.

The moment the words left his lips, Susanoo lunged. A blur of lethal precision, his blade carved through the air, the sheer force of his movement splitting the wind apart. The weight of his strike bore down like a falling mountain, a single stroke carrying the momentum to split a man in two.

Medic barely reacted in time. His body twisted instinctively, slipping just beyond the deadly arc of Susanoo's poleaxe. The massive weapon cleaved through the air with terrifying speed, its razor-sharp edge howling as it narrowly missed its mark. As it struck the ground where Medic had stood moments ago, the sheer force of the impact sent a devastating shockwave rippling outward. The ground beneath them cracked violently, fissures spreading like jagged veins through the battlefield. Shards of debris erupted from the point of impact, launching chunks of stone and metal into the air like deadly shrapnel.

Without pause, Susanoo fluidly transitioned his stance, his poleaxe a seamless extension of his will. He pivoted on his heel, using the momentum to unleash a sweeping horizontal strike meant to bisect anything in its path. The sheer force of the swing displaced the air in a violent gust, the pressure alone enough to send loose rubble skidding across the ground. As the weapon carved through the space Medic occupied only a second prior, Susanoo suddenly reversed direction, his grip tightening as he flipped the poleaxe's haft downward in a crushing overhead slam. The battlefield trembled beneath his relentless assault, each movement executed with brutal efficiency, a perfect synthesis of power and precision.

Yet Medic's grin did not waver.

If anything, it widened. His eyes gleamed, reflecting something far more dangerous than fear—exhilaration. A spark of unhinged glee flickered behind his glasses as he adjusted his coat, his fingers tightening around the grip of his Medigun.

The battlefield roared to life as the towering artificial soldier, Susanoo, charged forward with precise, measured steps. His crimson eyes glowed faintly under the moonlight, locked onto the figure of Medic, who stood grinning, unfazed by the destruction around him. In his hands, the Medigun hummed with latent energy, its tubing coiling like serpents, ready to unleash its power at a moment's notice. The tension in the air was palpable, the ground trembling beneath the weight of the combatants preparing for battle.

"Enemy identified," Susanoo stated calmly, his voice as steady as his advance. "Engaging."

A barrage of bullets tore through the air before he could close the distance. The Heavy Squad had arrived, their rotary miniguns spinning with a deafening mechanical whirr. A relentless stream of lead rained down upon Susanoo, the ground beneath him kicking up dust and debris from the sheer force. Yet, he barely slowed, weaving through the onslaught with an efficiency honed by countless battles. His reinforced body absorbed the few stray rounds that managed to connect, his posture unshaken. It was as if he had calculated the exact trajectory of every bullet, allowing only glancing shots to strike his armored frame.

"Vhy don't you hold still, ja?" Medic mused, stepping back as the battle escalated around him. He observed with interest, eyes flicking from Susanoo to his own men, mentally noting every reaction, every counter, every strike.

From the side, the Soldier Squad launched their assault. Rockets streaked through the sky, their fiery trails illuminating the darkened battlefield like meteors crashing toward the earth. Susanoo's enhanced reflexes kicked in, his body twisting mid-step to evade the first explosion. The second, he swatted aside with a clean slice of his massive blade, the resulting shockwave forcing even the stalwart Soldier Squad to brace themselves. A third rocket came hurtling toward him, and this time, he sidestepped with impeccable timing, letting the missile explode harmlessly against a nearby boulder.

"Resilient," Susanoo observed, his gaze flicking between the incoming threats. He would need to neutralize them efficiently.

Then came the unmistakable howl of explosives. The Demo Squad had entered the fray, their distinctive war cries echoing through the chaos.

"Oi, let's see how ye handle this, lad!" One of the Demomen bellowed as a volley of grenades arced toward Susanoo's position. The ground beneath him erupted in flames and concussive force as the munitions detonated in rapid succession. The battlefield quaked under the sheer magnitude of the explosion, metal fragments scattering like shrapnel through the night air. Yet, through the inferno, Susanoo emerged, his cloak singed but his body unscathed, his reinforced frame withstanding the blast. He raised a hand, briefly examining the damage to his garb before redirecting his attention to his attackers.

Before he could retaliate, the Pyro Squad surged forth, flamethrowers roaring as they unleashed torrents of fire. The very air shimmered with heat, embers dancing wildly as Susanoo was engulfed. The flames roared hungrily, surrounding him in a blazing inferno. Yet, instead of panic, his expression remained impassive. With a swift motion, he planted his foot and spun, the sheer force of his movement dispersing the flames around him. The embers that clung to his armor flickered and died as he emerged from the blaze, unfazed, undeterred.

Susanoo leaped forward, blade flashing in the firelight. His movements were fluid yet mechanical, each strike precise, each counter calculated. The squads worked together, their synchronized attacks pushing the artificial warrior to his limits. Rockets, bullets, and flames clashed against his unyielding defenses, the battlefield a chaotic storm of destruction and resilience. He parried strikes with inhuman efficiency, his blade a blur as it intercepted incoming projectiles mid-air.

A Heavy opened fire at point-blank range, the sheer force causing Susanoo to skid backward as the bullets crashed against his reinforced torso. He grimaced slightly, acknowledging the force behind the attack, but he did not falter. Instead, he stepped forward, gripping the barrel of the minigun and wrenching it aside with terrifying strength, sending the Heavy stumbling.

Nearby, a Demoman hurled a sticky bomb, aiming to detonate it at Susanoo's feet. The warrior anticipated the move, kicking up a chunk of debris to intercept the blast, minimizing the explosion's impact. Yet, even as he calculated his next move, another wave of attacks came crashing down. This battle was unlike any he had fought before—relentless, unpredictable, overwhelming in a way even his enhanced systems struggled to keep up with.

In the midst of it all, Medic watched with an unsettling grin, his eyes glinting with scientific curiosity. "Ja… zis is promising," he murmured, fingers flexing over the handle of his Medigun. His creation, his forces, and his brilliant mind were being tested against something remarkable, and the doctor relished every second of it.

The battlefield was an inferno of chaos, an explosive cacophony of gunfire, rockets, and flames. The ground quaked under the relentless assault of the RED forces against the imposing artificial warrior, Susanoo. Each strike, each bullet, each detonation illuminated the night, sending shockwaves rippling through the darkened forest, the cacophony of battle echoing for miles.

From their vantage point above the battlefield, Night Raid observed the clash with growing unease. Akame narrowed her crimson eyes, trying to decipher the chaos unfolding before them. Leone crouched beside her, her golden mane catching the flickering light of nearby fires. "This doesn't make sense. Why would those mercenaries attack Susanoo? He's not their enemy."

Lubbock adjusted his wires, readying himself for a potential engagement. "I don't know, but it looks like they're gunning for him hard. We can't just sit here and watch. If they take him down, we might be next."

With a nod, Akame and Leone sprang forward, the wind rushing past them as they closed the distance. The moment they emerged onto the battlefield, a hail of bullets and rockets whizzed dangerously close, forcing them to dodge and weave through the destruction. A rocket detonated nearby, sending shards of rock and metal into the air, but they pressed on, determination burning in their eyes.

Leone roared, her transformed claws gleaming under the moonlight. "Hey, tin can! We're here to back you up!" She lunged toward the nearest RED soldier, slamming a fist into their chest, sending them skidding backward.

Susanoo, still locked in combat, registered their presence with a brief glance. "Night Raid… unexpected reinforcements acknowledged. Adjusting strategy."

The Pyro Squad responded immediately, their flamethrowers spewing forth scorching waves of fire. Akame leaped into action, her blade cutting through the flames as she maneuvered between the attacks with deadly precision. She moved like a phantom, her strikes quick and calculated, never staying in one place long enough to be cornered.

"They think we're the enemy!" one of the RED soldiers barked through their comms, dodging a swipe from Leone's claws. "Orders?"

The Soldier Squad fired another round of rockets, forcing Leone to leap backward, landing in a crouch with a low growl. "Damn it, they're not stopping!" she spat, her golden eyes flickering with frustration. Her muscles tensed as she prepared for another charge.

Akame's sword glinted under the embers of battle. She parried a bayonet strike from a Heavy Squad member, her movements fluid yet measured. In one swift motion, she knocked the weapon aside and dashed backward, keeping a cautious distance. Each side was fighting to gauge the other's strength, not to kill—yet.

"Stop! We don't have to fight!" Akame's voice rang through the chaos, commanding yet calm. She held Murasame at the ready, her posture defensive rather than aggressive. She locked eyes with one of the RED commanders, silently urging reason.

The REDs hesitated, their weapons still trained on Night Raid but their fingers loosening over their triggers. The roaring flames crackled between them, momentarily freezing the battle in uncertainty. A single misstep could reignite the chaos.

Susanoo, ever observant, regarded both sides with calculated precision. "Current engagement deemed inefficient. A ceasefire is advisable. Further conflict yields no benefit."

For a moment, only the distant echoes of fading explosions filled the air. The battlefield, once a frenzy of destruction, now hung in precarious tension—two formidable forces caught in the web of a grand misunderstanding, each waiting to see who would make the next move.

Medic raised a gloved hand, his voice sharp and authoritative. "Ceasefire! Zhis battle is pointless!" The RED forces immediately halted their assault, lowering their weapons, but their gazes remained locked onto Night Raid with wary anticipation. Medic then turned his piercing gaze to Susanoo, his lips curling into a scowl. "Und you! Ve come to your aid und zhis is how you repay us? Such ungratefulness is truly unbecoming!"

Night Raid, still poised for battle, exchanged uncertain glances. Akame's grip on Murasame loosened slightly, her eyes flickering with curiosity and caution. Leone arched a brow, straightening from her battle-ready stance. "Wait... they're not trying to kill him?"

Lubbock, still coiled with tension, observed the RED forces closely. "They called a ceasefire first… doesn't sound like an enemy move to me."

Susanoo, ever composed, tilted his head in a precise motion. "Clarification required. Current engagement parameters miscalculated? Intent reassessment necessary." His deep, mechanical voice, devoid of emotion yet methodical, carried over the uneasy silence, prompting Akame to step forward cautiously, her mind racing to interpret his response.

"If that's true," Akame finally spoke, her tone wary but open, "then why didn't you try to communicate first? Why immediately resort to violence?"

Medic scoffed, shaking his head. "Hah! Do you truly believe zhis battlefield grants time for pleasantries? Ve saw an unknown combatant, und in zis vorld, hesitation gets you killed. Ve are not fools—ve acted on information available."

Medic's expression remained firm as he adjusted his gloves, taking a calculated step back. "Zhis battle is unnecessary. RED Team, ve are leaving. Full retreat!" His voice carried across the battlefield, prompting immediate movement from the mercenaries. The Heavy Squad did not fire a single shot as they pulled back, their Miniguns held at the ready but silent. Their watchful gazes remained locked onto Night Raid, ensuring no sudden attacks jeopardized their retreat. The RED forces moved in a disciplined, coordinated withdrawal, their formations unwavering. This was no panicked escape—it was a calculated maneuver, leaving their adversaries uncertain of their true intentions.

Night Raid watched with suspicion, their weapons still at the ready. Leone's fists clenched as she eyed the retreating figures. "You think we should let 'em just walk away?"

Akame's grip on Murasame remained steady, her eyes narrowing as she observed their opponents' disciplined retreat. "For now. They aren't running like defeated enemies—they're withdrawing with purpose. That means they aren't done here."

Lubbock exhaled, lowering his wires slightly. "Something tells me we haven't seen the last of them."

Susanoo remained motionless, processing the sudden shift. "Battle conclusion acknowledged. Strategic reassessment required."

The flames of the battlefield dimmed as the mercenaries vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only questions and unease in the ranks of Night Raid.