Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 24

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The sun blazed mercilessly over the battlefield, its light casting long, jagged shadows across the chaos. Sand and ash swirled like a living storm, whipped into the air by the shockwaves of relentless combat. Androids shielded their eyes, bracing against the searing heat and the cacophony of destruction.

A titanic war machine erupted into action, its six gyrating 20mm cannons roaring to life in a symphony of orange-yellow fury. The muzzle flashes painted the battlefield in harsh, strobe-like bursts as the cannons unleashed a torrent of rounds, the sound a deafening drumbeat of war. Above, its shoulder-mounted missile pods fired in unison, streaking through the smoke-filled sky like blazing comets.

2B flinched, the sheer force of the machine's firepower rattling her core. Sand pelted her face, stinging like needles, as the ground trembled beneath her boots. She turned, her silver hair whipping in the hot wind, and saw the impossibly massive silhouette of the war machine advancing.

A voice, distorted and mechanical, boomed from the towering exosuit. "You two," it commanded, its tone leaving no room for hesitation. "Fall back to the line. We are covering you."

"We?" 9S muttered, confusion clouding his voice as he staggered beside her, his movements sluggish from exhaustion and injury.

Before either could react, more war machines emerged from the smoky horizon. Their hulking forms moved like iron titans, their silhouettes cutting through the chaos with grim purpose. The ground shook as they advanced, their weapons already spooling up for another salvo.

Over the din of battle, a familiar voice rang out, sharp and resolute. "To all android units!" It was Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, his voice crackling through the comms. "UN Forces will shadow and assist. Regroup your bearings and counterattack, over!"

The war machines answered the call. Their weapons roared in unison, a synchronized barrage that lit up the battlefield like a second sun. Missiles streaked into the distance, their contrails etching jagged lines across the sky. The centipede machine—a towering monstrosity of steel and malice—let out a bone-chilling shriek. Where once its cries were a cold proclamation of death, now they were guttural screams of agony as the relentless onslaught tore into its armor.

"Warning: Magical Weapons from the Old World detected," 042's voice cut through the chaos, cold and measured despite the urgency. "Proposal: Retreat from the front lines and regroup."

"Help me with him!" 2B shouted, her voice sharp with desperation. She limped toward 9S, who lay slumped near the wreckage of his flying unit, his body twisted awkwardly against the shattered frame.

9S groaned, his face pale and smeared with dirt, his breathing labored. The scout model had seen better days.

042 and 053 hovered closer, their sleek forms darting around the wreckage. They worked quickly, their mechanical appendages cutting away debris to free him.

"What's his status?" 2B demanded, her voice taut.

"Unit 9S suffers significant damage from the crash," 053 reported, its tone clinical but tinged with an undercurrent of urgency. "Treatment is possible given his current injuries. Proposal: Retreat into friendly lines."

"Then let's move!" 2B barked, her determination cutting through her exhaustion. "Help him!"

Together, the pods and the battered YoRHa units began to retreat. 2B felt her legs threaten to give way under the weight of the moment, but she pushed forward. Behind them, the titanic war machine surged ahead, its thrusters roaring like a caged beast unleashed. Its cannons barked again, the sound tearing through the battlefield as it rained devastation on the enemy.

The scattered YoRHa units joined in their retreat, hobbling and torn. But despite that, they managed to steal glances to to the back. To the their gods. Still, 2B could not afford to let either of them gawk. She urged 9S and the pods forward. They needed repairs, and quickly. 

"Look!" 9S rasped, his voice hoarse but urgent. He pointed ahead, his trembling hand drawing 2B's attention to the horizon.

She followed his gaze and froze.

Descending from the skies were blocky, armored figures. Exosuits—massive and imposing, plated in thick olive-toned armor that gleamed in the sunlight. Each one bore an arsenal of advanced weaponry: shoulder-mounted miniguns, missile launchers, and plasma cannons. The white globe insignia of the UN stood out starkly on their shoulder pads.

One of the exosuits landed with a heavy thud, the ground cracking beneath its weight. The lead suit stepped forward, its voice amplified and commanding. "You, YoRHa!" it barked, its tone sharp and efficient. "What's his status?"

2B hesitated for only a moment. "He's damaged but stable," she reported, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

The suit's visor gleamed as the pilot inside responded. "Can't have you two hobbling back like this." His voice carried a sense of urgency but also reassurance. "Come on, we'll carry you."

Before 2B could protest, she felt herself lifted off her feet. The world tilted as strong, mechanical arms scooped her up with ease. For a brief moment, she was weightless, caught in an almost surreal moment of calm amidst the chaos.

She glanced up at her rescuer's helmeted face, her vision briefly blurring from the sun's glare. The pilot's face was hidden, but his movements were deliberate and steady, as if silently reassuring her that she was safe.

2B's gaze shifted, and she saw 9S being carried as well, his body cradled carefully in the arms of another exosuit.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself breathe.

And then she stared—at the battlefield, at the machines still raging in the distance, and at the rising tide of humanity's war machines surging forward to meet them, fighting with fire and fury and steel. 

A strange feeling bubbled inside of 2B. 

A feeling that she had sworn off. 

​She felt that everything was going to be alright. 

For a long while...

She felt hope.

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Captain Damian Cruz had no idea what was happening—or what kind of hell the world had fallen into. All he knew was this: the Lieutenant-Colonel needed pilots for the Gotterdämmerungs, and the orders were as blunt as they were brutal. Fuck shit up. And fuck shit up they were doing.

"To all Gotterdämmerungs, this is Overlord!" The Lieutenant-Colonel's voice thundered through the comms, crackling with static but cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Harass the centipede machine until local forces can regroup and counter-attack. Buy them and the infantry time to reorganize!"

The words hit Cruz like a shot of adrenaline. He adjusted his grip on the controls, his eyes scanning the battlefield. His war machine's cameras painted a panoramic view of the chaos around him. The world was a graveyard of shattered fortifications and burning hulks, the air choked with smoke so thick it dulled the sunlight. The ground was pockmarked with craters, and dust clouds swirled in the wake of the massive centipede monstrosity ahead. Its jagged legs churned through sand and steel alike, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

Cruz's cameras zoomed in on the people they were protecting. They retreated quickly, swift like the wind. But on their faces, awe. Some even stopped running to stare, to look upon them. That was power-armored infantry descended. Soldiers in gleaming suits of advanced armor grabbed the androids, pulling them to safety with practiced precision. The contrast was stark: fragile, doll-like figures being carried by hulking warriors of advanced alloy and firepower.

The Lieutenant-Colonel's voice cut through the radio again, louder, fiercer. "These androids have fought for a thousand years! A thousand years of endless battles against the enemy you see before you today! They've never even seen a single human in their lives!"

A thousand years? God, it has been that long?

"IT'S TIME FOR THEM TO SEE WHAT MANKIND IS MADE OF!" the Lieutenant-Colonel roared, his voice shaking with passion. "IT'S TIME FOR THEM TO SEE WHO THEY ARE FIGHTING FOR! WHO THEY HAVE LOST COMRADES FOR!"

Cruz felt the words ignite something deep within him. His HUD flared to life, flooding his cockpit with alerts and sensor data. The enemy was close now. The centipede machine loomed ahead, a nightmare given form.

It was an abomination of steel and fury, its body a grotesque amalgamation of rusted plating and exposed gears. Dozens of serrated legs scythed into the ground with every step, leaving craters in its wake. Its elongated body moved with a sinister grace, the grinding of its joints like nails dragged across a chalkboard. And at its center, a single baleful crimson eye burned like a malevolent star. It turned toward the Gotterdämmerungs, its gaze sharp, calculating. For a moment, the machine seemed almost confused—then came the rage.

The Lieutenant-Colonel's voice surged back onto the comms, now more a battle cry than an order. "FOR THE ANDROIDS! FOR MANKIND! YOUR HEART AND SOUL FOR THE CAUSE!"

Cruz gritted his teeth. His breathing quickened. His pulse thundered in his ears. This was it.

The Lieutenant-Colonel's Marauder—a towering Gotterdämmerung painted in faded olive drab and scarred from countless battles—charged first. Its massive servos whined as it surged forward, a leviathan of alloy and firepower. Plasma lances mounted on its arms flared to life, twin beams of blue-white energy carving through the smoky air. The beams slammed into the centipede's flank, shearing off a section of its armor in a shower of molten metal and sparks. The machine staggered.

"Move! Hit it from all sides!" Cruz barked into his comms, his own Gotterdämmerung roaring to life. The servos in its legs groaned as the war machine propelled itself forward, tearing across the battlefield with surprising speed for something so massive. The ground trembled beneath its weight, each step a thunderous drumbeat of war.

The others followed. Five Gotterdämmerungs in total, each one a towering exosuit bristling with weaponry and powered by a miniature masodynamic engine. They spread out in a wide arc, flanking the centipede from all angles. Railguns barked, plasma cannons hissed, miniguns sang and missiles streaked through the air, their contrails leaving jagged lines in the smoky sky.

Cruz's railgun fired, the tungsten slug punching through the centipede's side with a deafening crack. The impact tore through its exposed gears, severing one of its legs entirely. The severed limb crashed to the ground, sending up a plume of dust and debris. The centipede screeched, its baleful eye flashing in pain and rage.

Another Gotterdämmerung followed up, unleashing a salvo of missiles. They struck the centipede's back in rapid succession, each explosion gouging out chunks of its rusted plating. The machine reeled, its movements growing more erratic as sparks and black smoke poured from its wounds.

"Keep pushing! It's breaking apart!" Cruz shouted, his voice filled with grim determination.

The centipede lashed out with its legs, each one a razor-sharp blade that moved too fast for something so massive. One of the Gotterdämmerungs on Cruz's left wasn't fast enough. A leg slammed into its shoulder, ripping through the armor and sending the machine crashing to the ground. But even as it fell, its pilot managed to fire a plasma lance, the beam slicing clean through one of the centipede's joints. Another leg collapsed, and the machine stumbled forward, struggling to keep its balance.

Cruz's HUD lit up with warnings as the centipede reared up, its legs splaying outward. The crimson glow in its eye intensified, and his sensors screamed of an energy buildup. "It's charging a beam weapon!" someone shouted over the comms.

"Scatter! Now!" Cruz roared.

The centipede's massive beam carved through the battlefield, a blinding red lance leaving a smoldering trench of molten slag in its wake. The air shimmered with heat, and Cruz's cockpit temperature spiked before the cooling systems kicked in. He sucked in a sharp breath, guiding his Gotterdämmerung away from the blast zone.

"That thing's not slowing down!" one of the pilots growled over the comms. "How the hell is it still moving after all that?"

"It's moving because we haven't hit it hard enough!" Cruz snapped back, his voice cutting through the chaos. 

The centipede screeched, a sound like tortured metal being ripped apart, and lunged forward with terrifying speed. Its serrated legs tore into the earth, kicking up clouds of dirt and debris as it closed the distance between itself and the Gotterdämmerungs. Cruz's sensors pinged as the machine locked onto him, its crimson eye narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey.

The centipede screeched again, a sound like tortured metal being ripped apart, and lunged forward with terrifying speed. Its serrated legs tore into the earth, kicking up clouds of dirt and debris as it closed the distance between itself and the Gotterdämmerungs. Cruz's sensors pinged as the machine locked onto him, its crimson eye narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Incoming strike!" Cruz warned, yanking his controls hard to the left. His Gotterdämmerung rolled just as one of the centipede's legs came crashing down where he'd been standing a second earlier. The impact shattered the ground, sending shockwaves rippling outward and hurling chunks of rock into the air.

Cruz didn't hesitate. His railgun hummed to life, the tungsten slug firing with a deafening crack. The round slammed into the centipede's exposed torso, punching through its rusted plating and tearing into the fragile internal mechanisms beneath. The machine staggered, sparks flying as one of its legs faltered, its movements becoming jagged and uneven.

"Hit the core joints!" the Lieutenant-Colonel barked over the comms. "We can cripple it if we take out its legs!"

"Copy that!" Cruz shouted. He swiveled his Gotterdämmerung's torso to target one of the centipede's rear limbs. A plasma lance mounted on his right arm flared to life, the beam slicing through the air and striking the joint. Metal melted instantly, and the leg collapsed in a screech of tearing steel, sending the centipede lurching sideways.

Another Gotterdämmerung, a sleek silver model piloted by Lieutenant Lee Park, darted in from the opposite side. Its missile pods locked onto the centipede's midsection, and a barrage of projectiles streaked across the battlefield. They struck in rapid succession, each explosion ripping apart more of the centipede's armored shell. Black smoke billowed from its wounds, and the machine's eerie glow flickered as if its systems were struggling to maintain power.

"It's breaking down!" Park yelled, her voice filled with exhilaration. 

But the centipede wasn't finished yet. With a sudden burst of speed, it reared up, half of its legs leaving the ground as its crimson eye blazed brighter than ever. Cruz barely had time to react as the machine lashed out, its serrated limbs whipping through the air like scythes. One of the Gotterdämmerungs—Lieutenant Kieran Monroe's—was caught mid-dodge. The centipede's leg pierced through the cockpit like a spear, and Monroe's scream was cut short as his machine was lifted off the ground and hurled into a nearby ruin. The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield.

"Monroe's down!" someone shouted over the comms, panic creeping into their voice.

"Focus! We don't have time to mourn!" Cruz barked, his voice sharp with urgency. "Keep hitting it! It's desperate, which means we're close!"

The centipede's movements were growing more erratic now, its body jerking as if it were fighting against its own failing systems. Sparks and molten fluid poured from its wounds, staining the ground beneath it. Cruz's sensors picked up rising energy levels from the machine's core, and his stomach tightened. Was it overloading?

"Overlord, this is Cruz! The target's power levels are spiking—it might be trying to self-destruct!"

"Then finish it before it gets the chance!" the Lieutenant-Colonel snapped. "You know what to do, Captain."

Cruz gritted his teeth, his hands flying over the controls. "All units, concentrate fire on its core! Whatever power it's drawing from, we need to shut it down!"

The Gotterdämmerungs formed a loose circle around the centipede, their weapons blazing. Plasma lances, railguns, and missile barrages tore into the machine's midsection, each strike gouging deeper into its armored shell. The ground trembled as the combined firepower of the exosuits hammered the centipede into submission. One by one, its legs gave out, collapsing beneath the weight of its failing body.

Cruz's railgun fired again, the tungsten slug punching through the centipede's torso and exposing a glowing, pulsating core of machinery at its center. The core was a swirling mass of red and white energy, barely contained by the jagged remnants of its armor. Cruz's HUD screamed with warnings as his sensors registered the unstable energy levels.

"There it is!" Cruz shouted. "The core's exposed! Take it out!"

Lieutenant Park's Gotterdämmerung fired first, a blinding beam of plasma lancing through the air and striking the core dead center. The impact caused the core to flare violently, its glow intensifying as its containment systems failed. Cruz followed up with another railgun shot, the tungsten slug slamming into the core and shattering it completely.

The centipede let out one final, earsplitting screech as its body convulsed violently. Its crimson eye dimmed, flickered, and went dark. Then, with a deafening explosion, the core detonated, sending a massive shockwave rippling across the battlefield. Cruz's Gotterdämmerung staggered but held its ground as the centipede collapsed in on itself, its shattered remains crashing into the earth like a felled titan.

But it wasn't over.

"Contact!" someone shouted.

Ahead, the sand churned violently, kicked up by the relentless advance of machines. They were coming—pushing hard. A thousand and one of them, their red eyes glowing with murderous intent, their movements unrelenting, mechanical, and bloodthirsty.

The Gotterdämmerungs shifted into battle formation, their massive frames bristling with weaponry, servos humming as they prepared to meet the onslaught.

Then, a cry tore through the air—a roar that seemed to shake the battlefield itself.

"GLORY TO MANKIND!"

Hundreds upon hundreds of figures in black surged forward. YoRHa. Clad in their sleek, dark combat attire, they charged like a storm, their precision and fury unmistakable. Some were new, others having been brought back to operation and in torn dresses. All surged. Above, Flying Units streaked across the sky, their engines screaming as they unleashed a torrent of firepower onto the battlefield. Explosions rippled through the machine ranks as YoRHa pressed the attack, their blades and weapons cutting a path of destruction.

The Gotterdämmerungs opened fire, joining in the push. 

They won. 

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A/N: Pretty much expect the androids are going to be die hard fanatical after this, lel.