At night, Blazewood became an ocean of celebration. Laughter rolled through the streets, accompanied by the endless rhythm of footsteps and the rattling percussion of sand shakers.
The sheer joy of the crowd was loud enough to drown out the music itself. From nearly five kilometers away, the Ninth Division of the rebel forces—advancing to raid the town—could clearly hear the singing coming from Blazewood.
When they looked up and saw the dazzling, multicolored lights above the town, their attention was completely seized by the frenzied songs. The name Burnice was etched deep into their minds, over and over again.
Before long, a rebel dressed like a squad leader broke away from the formation. He slipped through the crowd, identifying people by the stars pinned to their uniforms. After circling several times, he finally found the person he was looking for.
Bending low, the squad leader crouched over and whispered, "Military Commander?"
"Hm? Speak."
The military commander answered and slowly turned his head.
With a single glance, the squad leader saw the layers of thick flesh piled across the man's face. A long scar ran straight across his eyes, twisting like a centipede whenever he blinked—so unsettling it made one's stomach churn.
The squad leader didn't dare look any longer. He lowered his head immediately.
"Military Commander, none of the reconnaissance squads we sent out have returned."
"Oh?"
A vicious gleam burst from the commander's eyes, instantly piquing his interest. The flesh on his face shifted with his expression, turning feral and bloodthirsty as he let out a harsh, rasping laugh.
"But look at Blazewood—everyone's having the time of their lives. Maybe your men fell into a pleasure den and don't want to come back."
The squad leader broke out in a cold sweat. His heart skipped several beats as he clutched his chest, lips trembling.
"N-No… that's not it. The celebration may just be a Blazewood thing. The Sons of Calydon should still be maintaining order."
"I think we could still—"
He forced himself to continue, bracing against the pressure radiating from the military commander.
But the commander had no patience for it.
His brows knitted together as he waved a large hand, cutting him off sharply.
"Enough!"
The squad leader's words jammed in his throat, his expression stiff and awkward.
The military commander stood up.
His massive frame granted him a height far beyond normal—nearly two-point-three meters—making him loom over others both physically and mentally. That sheer size often bred in him a sense of dominance, as though he stood above the world itself.
This time was no different.
"Hmph. How many people do the Sons of Calydon even have? You think they're capable of controlling that many of my scouting teams?"
"To me, they're just playing themselves silly and neglecting their duties!"
He swept his arm outward.
"Pass down my orders. The armored units won't move—just have them handle loading supplies later. All infantry units advance immediately. Surround Blazewood at top speed and gather everyone inside together."
"Yes—"
The squad leader hesitated, about to speak again.
One glance from the military commander shut him down completely. His breath caught in his throat, a suffocating sensation gripping his neck as if invisible fingers were tightening around it.
Left with no choice, the squad leader backed down. Under the commander's satisfied nod, he bowed and returned to the ranks.
Not long after, as the orders rippled down the chain of command, the Ninth Division rebels lying in wait around Blazewood finally began to move.
Under the cover of moonlight, they crept closer to the outskirts of town—astonishingly, without being noticed by anyone.
The squad leader was amazed.
Their infantry force numbered close to two thousand. For a movement of that scale to go completely undetected felt almost miraculous.
Did this mean the military commander had really guessed right?
Were the people of Blazewood truly partying so hard that they hadn't even set up basic defenses?
A spark of hope ignited in the squad leader's chest, sending heat coursing through his entire body.
Finally, when they were about a thousand meters from Blazewood, he could no longer contain himself.
"All units—charge!"
The moment the order left his mouth, he sprang to his feet, rifle in hand, and charged forward with a feral yell, afraid of falling behind.
The other rebels exchanged puzzled looks.
Since when was the squad leader this eager to die?
Damn it—he's trying to grab first credit!
A beat later, realization struck. The rebels surged to their feet and sprinted with everything they had, shouting at the top of their lungs.
"Kill!"
"For the reward—charge!"
Thousands of infantry rushed forward together. Their shouts shook the air, and even the ground beneath their feet trembled.
So much so that…
They failed to notice that the ground was actually shaking.
Only when they drew close to Blazewood did the fastest-running squad leader faintly catch another sound beneath the overwhelming music.
That noise…
Was it the sound of a hammer smashing into a wall?
Unease crept in. He subconsciously slowed his pace. Years of experience tugged at his nerves, his instincts sharpening as he tried to isolate other sounds buried beneath the mind-numbing chants of "Burnice" filling the air.
He didn't even notice his comrades overtaking him.
Hammer strikes…
No—there was more.
Truck engines?
Wait.
Truck engines?!
We've been played!
The realization hit him all at once. He snapped his head up in terror—
And at that exact moment, a steel beast roared to life.
As it unleashed its full fury, asserting its dominance, even the music of Burnice was briefly drowned out.
BOOM!
Walls shattered.
Truck after truck burst straight through buildings. Rebels closest to the impact were buried by flying bricks and rubble before they could even be crushed—only to be ground into the sand beneath massive tires.
More than twenty trucks smashed out at once.
Inside the cabs, drivers flailed with manic excitement, gripping their steering wheels tightly. Their faces were twisted with madness, eyes blazing as they screamed hoarsely,
"Why are you running?! Get under the wheels already! I haven't run anyone over in ages! Tonight I'm gonna run you down until I'm satisfied!"
The rebels, of course, didn't just let that happen.
Some scattered in every direction. Others dropped to their knees, begging.
"Help!"
"Wait—I was just passing by! I surrender! I'll tell you everything!"
"Take me in! I work hard, I swear!"
Cries and pleas filled the air. Blood painted the scene red.
The charging rebels fell like harvested wheat. Many didn't even get the chance to chamber a round before collapsing. Those behind them were blinded by the trucks' high beams—shots fired wildly, hitting nothing and only exposing their own positions.
The people of the Outer Ring might be poor, but they were famously hospitable.
Since the guests had come from far away, no matter how hard things were, they still had to be treated to something decent.
Anything less would be rude.
And so, amid the exchange of fire, it was the rebels who were driven steadily into disadvantage.
And that wasn't even the worst of it.
The squad leader knew it well—once the trucks finished crashing through and completely disrupted their formation, this would become a total annihilation.
Unless the military commander came to save them.
But…
…sigh.
The squad leader shut his eyes tightly, cursing his teammates' weakness and blaming their incompetence.
A bunch of useless trash. If they'd shown even a little courage, things wouldn't have become this troublesome.
One second later, after taking a deep breath to psych himself up, the squad leader opened his eyes and looked toward the truck.
Through the windshield, he saw a blonde little girl driving with her feet. Half her body was hanging out the window, a rifle in her hands, its muzzle locked firmly onto him. Her index finger was slowly curling toward the trigger…
At the sight, the squad leader let out a disdainful snort. This brat really is—
"Kind, beautiful, noble, universally admired, heavenly fairy descended from the gods—I surrender! I know where the Ninth Division's rebel base is! I'll lead you there!"
Faced with the pitch-black barrel of the gun and the truck barreling straight at him, the squad leader instantly performed what could only be described as a core workout.
His knees buckled, and he slammed down into a flawless prostration, the posture so standard it left Piper completely stunned.
"Huh?"
Piper let out a soft sound of surprise, then calmly pulled the rifle back in and nudged the steering wheel.
Big Steel Teeth's front wheels shifted. The truck's raised chassis skimmed right over the squad leader's scalp, the thunderous rumble of the tires exploding in his ears as it passed.
When the truck finally rolled by, the squad leader looked like he'd lost his soul, drenched in sweat as if he'd just been hauled out of water.
"Wow… this person's reaction is really slow. If this person had surrendered a little earlier…"
"Good thing this person reacted fast, or else this person would've been flattened into a pancake—flattened into a pancake!"
Piper muttered to herself. Then she casually pulled out her phone.
[Hey, Lucy. I've broken through on my end.]
[Yeah, that's right. I've got about twenty truck drivers with me. Everyone's safe—no injuries, clean pass. Just… a lot of people surrendered, so you might have to put in some extra work.]
[Oh, right, Lucy. Is it really okay to make booze that strong taste good?]
Piper scratched her cheek, sounding a little awkward.
[You know how unruly they usually are. Now you're making alcohol tasty… isn't that kind of—]
The reply came quickly.
[It's fine. Booze gives cowards courage.]
[Little Corin, get ready to call a doctor. Drinking stuff that strong like that is going to wreck their stomachs.]
[Okay, Lucy.]
Piper hung up. She leaned back in her seat, hands behind her head, steering the wheel with her feet as she yawned.
"This person is really working hard. Such good booze right next to them, and this person didn't even take a sip."
"But just this person working hard isn't enough. The others need to work hard too."
With that thought, Piper sent a message to the group chat.
[All truck drivers, full speed ahead—charge like wild boars!!!]
…
Somewhere in Blazewood.
Lucy hung up her call and was about to move on to her next task when she noticed Corin's expression looked a little off. Curious, Lucy crossed her slender arms, squeezing them against her chest, tilted her head, and asked,
"Little Corin, what's with that look?"
"Well… um… how do I put it…"
Corin scratched her cheek awkwardly, her glasses drifting slightly as she spoke hesitantly.
"It's just… Lucy, you're not worried about them drinking and driving, but you are worried about them hurting their stomachs. That's kind of… strange."
She'd wanted to say ridiculous, but years of etiquette drilled into her by Rina made her change the word at the last second.
Lucy, however, looked genuinely puzzled. Her eyebrows lifted—then she remembered Corin was a well-behaved city kid who hadn't been properly "educated" about the Outer Ring yet.
"No need to worry about them. Don't let appearances fool you—those people have basically violated every article in the criminal code at least once."
"And besides, compared to drinking and driving, Piper driving with her feet is way more concerning… Oh. You just reminded me! I should call Piper and tell her to be careful!"
As if struck by delayed realization, Lucy immediately pulled out her phone and dialed.
At the same time, nearby—
The true Legendary Proxy, Belle, slowly dimmed as the blue light in her eyes faded away.
She slumped back into her chair as if all her strength had been drained, collapsing like a soaked sponge.
"Lucy… I've finished adjusting things on my end. Breaking into the rebels' local network was really exhausting."
"Mm-hmm, just be careful and don't get hurt—hang on… Huh? You're done already?! Proxy, you really pulled it off! As expected of the Legendary Proxy!"
Lucy had just ended her call with Piper when Belle's good news came in. She'd breached the rebels' network even faster than Lucy had anticipated.
Corin maintained a polite but awkward smile, silently thinking: Since when did being a Legendary Proxy have anything to do with hacking skills?
Belle looked utterly spent. Despite not sweating at all, she tugged at her collar to fan herself, unconcerned with how her thin jacket clung to her curves. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, speaking tiredly.
"Whew… using the H.D.D. and Fairy, I finally traced the rebels' network data. After that, I handed it off to Rain. It's done."
Corin's face twitched, though her smile never broke. Inside, she was screaming:
So the AI and someone else did everything—then why are you exhausted?!
Lucy didn't mind at all. She didn't care who finished the job—as long as it was finished.
She opened her laptop.
"So the rebels' location data has been sent over, right?"
"Yeah… it's here…" Belle replied weakly, staring at the ceiling as if she'd just seen through the meaning of life.
Then the rapid tapping of Lucy's keyboard drew Corin's attention.
She turned and saw the screen glowing—hundreds of blood-red dots sharpening into focus across the map.
Suddenly, Lucy's eyes lit up. She sprang forward in excitement and hugged Corin tightly.
Their cheeks pressed together. Lucy, slightly taller, clearly took the initiative, rubbing her face against Corin's like an overexcited kitten.
"We found them, Corin! We found them!"
Caught off guard, Corin froze for a moment before gently hugging Lucy back, patting her shoulder.
"Okay, okay, I know. Don't get too excited. Calm down first—everyone out there is still waiting for your commands."
Lucy snapped back to her senses. She immediately let go, cheeks faintly flushed, coughed twice, and cracked one eye open with a proud huff.
"Hmph. Don't make it sound like I'd forget something like that. They're just rebels—this will be over soon."
As she spoke, Lucy tapped her earpiece. After a brief crackle of static, she issued the order.
[Caesar, you're up.]
[No problem, Lucy!]
Covered in dirt, crawling forward with her impressive chest pressed to the ground, Caesar answered honestly.
Following Lucy's guidance, she slowly approached the rebels' main camp.
Not far ahead, Caesar spotted a burly man in military uniform, his face packed with thick folds of flesh.
…