The flying mounts touched down on the broken ground outside the ruined gate. Ethan and the others swung off and hit the rubble in a line.

A crowd surged in immediately, weapons up, forming a rough circle around them.

The man in front barked something in Yamato.

Ethan flicked a glance at Skinny Pete. "What’d he say?"

"He’s asking who we are."

Ethan shrugged. "Tell him we’re the guys about to ruin his morning. And he can hand over the cores."

Pete just stared back at him.

"...I can understand them," he said, deadpan. "Doesn’t mean I can speak it."

Before Ethan could respond, the leader snapped again—then, abruptly, switched languages.

"You’re from the Atlas Federation, aren’t you?" he said in fluent Federation Standard.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you do speak Federation Standard. Then what the hell was that earlier?"

The guy’s face went a nasty shade of green, like he’d swallowed something rotten. He forced his anger down and spoke through clenched teeth.

"People of the Atlas Federation... how did you get here?!"

"None of your damn business," Ethan said, voice hard. "This is a robbery. Hand over every crystal core in the compound."

The man’s expression iced over.

"You’re asking to die." He lifted his hand. "Kill them!"

The instant the order dropped, skills lit up everywhere—blades of wind, fireballs, streaks of light, dense barrages flying straight at Ethan and the squad.

Ethan’s mouth curled into a thin smile. "No need to be polite," he said. "Kill whoever you feel like."

"Gladly!"

"You guys fight," Henry said with a grin. "I’ll film."

He hopped onto Nugget’s back, scooted to a clean angle, and clicked the mini camera on.

Atlas Federation, Atlas City—compound headquarters.

"General Kane, the camera’s online."

"Good. Get the live feed up. Now."

"Yes, sir!"

In another conference room, a massive screen flickered—then lit.

Maxwell and a cluster of top compound brass leaned in, faces tight with anticipation.

The image snapped into focus.

On-screen, the entrance of a Yamato compound was already a warzone.

"So fast?" someone blurted. "They’re fighting already?!"

Everyone looked stunned.

It hadn’t even been an hour since Fallen Star Squad left, and they were already throwing down?

The feed showed a sea of people—tens of thousands—swarming a handful of figures in the middle. Skills filled the sky like a storm, exploding and flashing in every direction.

And the people being besieged? Calm. Almost casual.

They tossed out a few wide-area skills like they were swatting flies, and huge sections of the crowd just... vanished.

"So strong," someone breathed. "That’s Fallen Star Squad for you."

"No doubt those are Yamato Empire forces," Maxwell said, eyes bright, adrenaline creeping into his voice. "Link every compound’s screens and satellite phones. Share the feed everywhere."

Watching that battlefield, even he felt his blood start to heat up.

"Yes, sir."

Pretty soon, every major compound got the message from Atlas City. One after another, they powered on their giant screens.

And the moment the image came up, people everywhere just... froze. Then their eyes went wide.

Atlas City had told them this was a real-time feed of Fallen Star Squad in the Yamato Empire.

Most of them had assumed they were being shown what Yamato looked like now—ruins, zombies, the usual apocalypse misery.

Nobody expected this.

On-screen, a handful of people were cutting through an enemy compound like a blender, slaughtering so many that the defenders were breaking—screaming, scattering, crying like their world was ending all over again.

All across the Federation, viewers started trembling with excitement.

No one called it cruel. Not here.

Hating the Yamato Empire wasn’t just politics. It was carved into the bones of every Atlas Federation survivor.

Before the world fell, there were rules—lines no one could cross.

Now? Those lines were gone. And some debts were long overdue.

Even if they weren’t the ones swinging the blades, just getting to watch it happen was enough to make people’s blood burn.

"So that’s Fallen Star Squad... holy crap, they’re strong."

And as the shock wore off, everyone’s focus naturally shifted—away from Yamato’s compound, and onto the few figures at the center of the storm.

Plenty of people had never fully bought into that power ranking list. They’d skimmed it, scoffed, half-believed.

But watching a few people butcher tens of thousands like it was routine?

Nobody had anything to say anymore.

Seriously—who else on Earth could do this?

Forget "minor" compounds. With just these few alone, Fallen Star Squad could probably wipe out any major compound if they felt like it.

So yeah. That intel hadn’t been lying.

Threat level: ★★★★★★★★★★.

Meanwhile, on the ground...

Ethan and his team had no idea they were being broadcast live across the entire Federation.

All they knew was they’d come here for payback—and they wanted a clean, satisfying massacre.

Inside the Yamato compound, the leadership had already gone pale.

They couldn’t wrap their heads around it. How could a group be this strong?

"Think of something!" the compound leader, Kenta Sato, snapped, panic bleeding into his voice. "If they keep killing like this, it doesn’t matter how many people we have—they’ll slaughter us all!"

"Kenta... they’re way above us," someone said, shaking their head hard. Faces were white with fear. "We can’t fight them."

"Why are these Atlas Federation invaders so strong? The apocalypse started the same day for everyone—what the hell is going on with their power?!"

"Who cares!" another person hissed. "This isn’t the time. Figure out what we do now."

"The only option is to run while they haven’t reached us yet," someone said, voice cracking. "If we stay, we die."

"Run where?" someone shot back. "You see those giant birds in the sky? They rode those here. You think we can outrun flying mounts?"

"..."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Silence snapped, then someone swallowed and forced out, "We negotiate. They said they want crystal cores, right? Then give them the cores."

"And what if they take the cores and still don’t let us go?"

"Either way, we try." The speaker’s eyes darted nervously. "Atlas Federation people are supposed to be ’honorable,’ aren’t they? We’ll find out if they actually keep their word. And if that doesn’t work..." He hesitated, then leaned forward like he was sharing a brilliant secret. "We send them a few beautiful women. They’re not that old. Men like that will definitely be interested."

"Hey—yeah." Another guy perked up. "Don’t we have a few porn stars in the compound? Send them. Might work better than we think."

"Okay," someone said quickly. "Fine. So... who’s going to negotiate?"

The room went dead quiet.

Because "negotiator" was just another way of saying first person to die.

"Kenta," someone tried, "maybe—"

Kenta’s gaze slid to a young man near the side. "Daigo. Since that idea came from you... you go."

"Wha— I—"

"Done," Kenta cut in. "That’s the decision."

Daigo Yamamoto’s face collapsed. He looked like he wanted to slap himself twice for opening his mouth in the first place.

But there was no backing out now.

He forced his legs to move and headed toward the battlefield.

When he was still about a thousand feet away, Daigo pulled out a big megaphone and, in fluent Federation Standard, shouted:

"To our friends from the Atlas Federation—please pause for a moment and hear me out! We understand why you’ve come. Our people were ignorant and offended you."

"You want crystal cores—we can give them to you. There’s no need for bad blood over something so small, right?"

His amplified voice rolled across the chaos.

And, unbelievably, the fighting really did pause.

Daigo’s eyes lit up. It’s working.

He hurried to press the advantage.

"You’ve traveled a long way. Why not come inside and rest?" he called. "We’ve prepared the best food and wine, and we can even have famous Yamato porn stars welcome you properly. What do you say?"

"Boss," Big Mike said immediately, eyes shining like a kid at Christmas, "porn stars. Hope they’ve got someone I recognize. How about we take a break and then keep fighting?"

"Thump."

Chris smacked the back of Big Mike’s head hard.

"I swear, you need to watch less porn," he snapped. "Is this really the time?"

"Yeah," Skinny Pete piled on, righteous as hell. "People like you are the worst."

Then he cupped his hands and yelled at Daigo in the distance:

"Bring ’em out first! Let’s see!"

"...!"