The skies above Valkiron were quiet.
But too quiet.
Graven stood on the observation deck of Cradle 7, visor pulled back, arms folded as she stared at the endless blue-gray canvas overhead. Her expression was unreadable—but the slight narrowing of her eyes said everything.
Something had changed.
> "Vice-Captain Nura. Observation Bay. Now."
Nura didn't ask why. He moved.
---
A Falling Star
Minutes later, Nura stood beside her, HUD uplinked to Cradle 7's high-orbit satellite sensors.
> "See this?" Graven said, highlighting a point of data. "It entered from beyond lunar orbit. No prior detection. No propulsion signature. No ID code. Just raw velocity."
The screen showed it clearly: a trail of fire, a bright speck growing larger by the second. Falling from space like a meteor.
> "At this speed, it should've burned up," Nura said.
> "Exactly," Graven replied. "But it's not."
The object pierced cloud layers without slowing down, its descent erratic—like it was half-guided, half-dead. No correction thrusters. No shields.
Yet it kept falling.
> "Bloom," Graven called over the intercom. "Get me a live visual. Wide-range capture. Track and stabilize."
> "Roger. Deploying lenses now."
The image flickered, then locked. A magnified shot filled the main screen.
A comet-shaped streak, wrapped in heat and plasma. But inside the flames… something moved. Something metallic.
Graven's voice dropped.
> "Zoom in. Center mass."
The shot shifted, shaking with turbulence—then cleared.
Nura stepped closer. His heart slowed.
> "That's…" he murmured.
---
A Steel Ghost
The object was not a meteor.
It was a Mobile Suit.
Compact. Strange. Its silhouette was hunched, like a sphere made of overlapping armor plates. No limbs were visible—only partial frame extensions folded tightly into the core. Heat shielding had melted in layers, but the head unit stood out.
It had a single visor slit.
And a V-shaped fin rising from its forehead.
Nura's stomach dropped.
But it was the writing that froze him.
> G U N D A M
Stamped in thin, scorched print on the left side of its round chassis. Barely visible, but unmistakable.
> "…Gundam," he whispered.
> "Impossible," Bloom muttered through the comms. "There hasn't been a Gundam model in over two hundred years."
> "Unless someone built one," Drift said coldly. "Or rebuilt it."
> "Where's it landing?" Nura asked.
Bloom answered:
> "Projection shows it'll make contact near Sector Delta-14. Ocean debris zone. Mostly uninhabited ruins."
Graven nodded once.
> "Scramble Scorpio Squad. Full recon. Non-engagement protocol until confirmed hostile."
> "And if it's not hostile?" Cutter asked.
Graven didn't answer.
Nura kept staring at the screen.
---
Excellent direction. By shifting POV temporarily to the mysterious Gundam pilot, we add suspense and sentience to the machine—and contrast it with Nura's awe and fear. Here's the rewritten Chapter 3, incorporating your request for a mid-sky atmospheric stop and emphasizing the sheer size and dominance of the mobile suit.
---
POV: Unknown Pilot
The cockpit lights flickered dimly, casting dull reflections across the visor of a helmet that had not seen the sun in centuries.
The pilot exhaled slowly. Calm. Mechanical. As if they had done this before.
Around him, the sensors blinked erratic warnings—external temperatures rising, pressure surging, heat shields nearing overload.
None of it mattered.
He looked out through the reinforced display.
Below, Earth.
Or what remained of it.
> "Falling into atmosphere. Confirm."
The descent was rapid. Fire licked the outer hull. The world roared.
And then—
he moved.
The pilot gripped the controls. A buried command phrase echoed silently in the core processor:
> "Initiate drag-shift. Atmospheric correction: 42% burn."
The machine obeyed.
Mid-descent, in the upper thermosphere, the ball-shaped Mobile Suit rotated, bracing against the fall. Massive layered armor groaned under shifting forces. Hidden verniers flared to life for the first time in generations.
With a single burst of controlled thrust—
the fall stopped.
A ripple surged through the clouds. The air screamed as the weight of a mountain halted above the world.
The machine hovered. Suspended in the sky. A metallic god reborn.
The pilot's eyes narrowed behind the helmet.
> "...Begin phase one."
---
POV: Nura Elvarn
From the ground, it was like watching the laws of nature break.
Nura stared upward from the cockpit of his Scorpio unit, holding altitude with the rest of the squad over Sector Delta-14.
The comet that had screamed down from space—
had stopped.
Just stopped, halfway down the sky.
No drift. No shake. No stall.
Just raw, impossible control.
And now… it floated above them.
A colossal steel orb, braced by faint propulsion fields and cooling plasma. Its outer armor hissed with heat, smoke trailing behind like god-blood from a wound. But it wasn't debris. It was alive.
Then the visor of Nura's Mobile Suit zoomed in—automatically adjusting focus.
And he saw it again.
The head emerging from the forward armor fold. Humanoid. V-fin sharp and unmistakable. And stamped across the side of the ball-chassis in faded text:
> G U N D A M
Nura's mouth went dry.
His HUD flashed scale calculations—estimating mass, height, volume. The data scrolled faster than he could track.
> "...That thing's over thirty meters tall," Bloom whispered over comms. "It's not a standard frame."
No one replied.
Because now they could all see it clearly.
And Nura understood in that instant—
this wasn't just a Mobile Suit.
It was a relic of a forgotten god, returned to walk the sky.
And when it turned ever so slightly toward them, the sheer pressure of its presence—without even moving—caused Nura's Scorpio unit to drift half a meter back… as if the air itself recoiled.
His hands gripped the controls tightly.
It wasn't just big.
It wasn't just old.
It was built to destroy everything smaller than it.
---