Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 21

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The boar ate. And it ate well.

Its existence was simple, cyclical. Eat, sleep, mate, shit. Rinse and repeat. There was no grander meaning to it, and the boar certainly didn't care. Life, for it, was good. It had mates—plenty of them, in fact—and a dozen or so piglets to carry on its line. There was abundant greenery to graze on, fresh water to drink, and the quiet peace of a world that didn't demand much from it.

But then, it paused. Something was off. Its nose twitched, detecting a faint, unfamiliar scent. Its ears perked as a sharp whistling sound cut through the air. The boar may have been an animal, but it was a smart one. It grunted a warning, an urgent call for its family to scatter.

The alarm came just in time. Explosions ripped through the air, slamming into the towering gray buildings above. The boar darted into the underbrush, the ground trembling beneath its hooves as debris crashed down.

Jackass stood a few hundred meters away, watching the carnage unfold with an amused smirk. Her binoculars glinted as the crumbling building disappeared into a cloud of dust and fire. She clicked into her radio with a grin.

"This is Jackass! Kill confirmed! Machine AA is down!"

The reply came quickly, crackling through the comms. "Confirmed, Jackass. Advance troops are inbound."

She glanced upward as shadows descended from the sky. At first, they were only black dots, barely visible against the pale expanse above. But as they neared, their shapes sharpened into massive, fist-like drop pods that slammed into the ground with thunderous force. The radio went silent for a beat—then erupted with eager cries.

"GLORY TO MANKIND!"

"There they go," Jackass snorted as YoRHa battle models poured from the pods. Blade-wielding androids, their faces split into wide, eager grins, charged headlong into an advancing horde of Machines. They moved with precision, their swords and spears carving arcs of destruction through the enemy lines.

"And we're just going to watch?" a resistance member asked hesitantly, standing nearby.

Jackass raised an eyebrow, then gestured toward the whirlwind of chaos with a lazy wave. "You wanna get in the middle of that? Be my guest."

The resistance android peered at the battlefield. Machine parts flew in every direction, sparks and oil painting the scene in violent strokes. After a long pause, he shook his head. "Nah, I'll, uh… pass."

Jackass chuckled, shaking her head. She thought as much. Clicking her radio again, she called out, "Anemone? You there?"

"I am," came the familiar, steady voice.

Jackass leaned back, opening one eye. "YoRHa's advancing. Are we moving up now?"

"Granted," Anemone replied. "Get some kills for us, Jackass."

"Rog!" Jackass grinned, turning to the others. "Come on, you bolts! Don't you wanna live forever?!"

The streets roared to life in response. Engines growled as APCs and tanks rumbled forward, filling the narrow roads with their massive presence. The comms buzzed with overlapping orders and shouts.

"GUNNER, TUNGSTEN ROUND, FORWARD!"

"UP!"

"FIRE!"

Jackass leaned against a half-destroyed wall, watching the metal tide surge ahead. It was amusing to think that Anemone's constant requests for support was granted in one week. They actually had assets now: heavy vehicles, advanced weaponry, more supplies than what they could think of and YoRHa reinforcements. It was more than anyone had dared hope for. With this kind of firepower, they could clear out parts of the city Anemone had been dreaming about since her posting here.

But despite the fresh wave of reinforcements, Jackass felt a gnawing hollowness. She crossed her arms, scowling to herself. 

Sure, she was glad their sector was finally getting attention. But if she had her way, she'd be somewhere else—anywhere else. Preferably with Cruz.

She missed him. 

Jackass sought to fight the growing blush on her face. She was fucking Jackass goddamn it. Explosions expert, certified badass, and mad scientist galore. Now here she was dreaming about a man like some dumb virgin. Jackass had heard rumours that as soon as they were set, a lottery program would be set that would have androids match with human partners. Apparently, to make it fair and ensure someone would be with someone. But that was just rumours however. Only time could tell if it were the truth. 

Ah, humanity.

It wasn't exactly a well-kept secret anymore. Despite their best efforts, leaks would leaks and rumours always found a way to spread. Most of the resistance didn't know the full story, but everyone knew something big was happening out in the desert. Something important. but as long as her troops kept fighting, they wouldn't have time to ask too many questions. And that suited her just fine.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of static. "Jackass! This is Rhino 1-1! We've got Goliath bipeds here—tons of them! And they're—"

"And they're what, Rhino?" Jackass cut in.

The response came back, sheepish and slightly annoyed. "…Never mind. YoRHa took care of it."

Jackass snorted. "Then carry on, Rhino." She yawned, stretching her arms above her head. As far as she was concerned, this fight could wrap up without her. A nice nap sounded far more appealing. Maybe she could even pretend Cruz's caramel-colored arms were wrapped around her, singing her to sleep in that low, soothing voice.

Fuck, she was getting heated.

"One day," she muttered under her breath. "One damn day."

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The atrium brimmed with activity, the cold stone floor reverberating under the rhythmic clatter of boots. The air was heavy, thick with tension—a volatile blend of urgency and controlled chaos. Faces blurred past in a frenetic tide: some pale and taut with fear, others cautious, their eyes darting nervously, and a few alight with flickers of reluctant hope. Each person carried what little they could—a duffel bag, a battered suitcase, or just a bundle wrapped in cloth—bent under the weight of their burdens and the gravity of the moment. Above the crowd, men and women in light-blue berets barked orders, their voices sharp and commanding, cutting through the cacophony like the toll of a bell.

"Please, continue in an orderly fashion!" a voice boomed over the din. "Do not push!"

Behind the safety of his observation screen, Smith stood unmoving, his face a mask of quiet resolve. His eyes swept the scene below with practiced focus. This mission was their most critical undertaking yet: transporting civilians to the heavens—humanity's last desperate bid for survival. It demanded precision, patience, and, above all, absolute secrecy. To ensure the Machines remained unaware, the Army of Humanity had launched a massive global offensive—a calculated distraction to keep their enemy's gaze elsewhere. Nothing too big, since they had been doing raids weeks before. Camille had assured him it would work: just enough to divert attention, but not enough to provoke a catastrophic escalation.

Smith's gaze flicked briefly to the empty space beside him. White and Anemone were absent, though only temporarily. Anemone was deployed as part of the offensive, while White was directing her own forces. He let out a quiet sigh. The next time he saw either of them, he'd have to fulfill his promise—one he'd made without hesitation. He owed them that much. But for now, his duty kept him rooted here, steel-willed and unyielding.

"Commandante, I have secured the seeds and other samples for transport," a voice crackled through his comms. It was Rossi, calm and professional as always. "I will be seeing you soon in the heavens, yes?"

Smith allowed himself the faintest smile. "Godspeed, Rossi," he replied. "And try not to lose your lunch on the flight, alright?"

A snort of amusement came through the channel. "I will not."

The plan was straightforward, though enormous in scale. The bunker was to be partially emptied, its population ferried to the heavens to join the fledgling orbital colony. Only a token force would remain behind to maintain operations. The bunker was too valuable to abandon entirely—a fortress, a sanctuary, a lifeline. Its facilities were extensive: barracks, armories, hydroponic bays, manufacturing wings, and more. What had once been humanity's temporary refuge would now become the Army of Humanity's forward base. Its future role remained undefined, but its strategic importance was undeniable.

Smith's shoulders tensed as his thoughts weighed on him like the stone walls surrounding them.

What kind of world would emerge from all this? Would humanity, battered and bruised, hold together long enough to rebuild? Or would they splinter back into squabbling factions, repeating the same mistakes that had nearly destroyed them? He could see the cracks even now, in the faces streaming through the atrium below, their unity held together by fear and necessity. When that fear faded, what then?

He clenched his jaw. He had power here—real power. As the senior-most officer left in the sector, and with the emergency authority granted to him, he could shape the future. In the final days of the war, the nations of the world had ceded sovereignty to the United Nations, desperate for a unified front. For the first time in history, humanity had acted as one. But it was a fragile unity, bound by the specter of extinction. There had been a promise—a whisper in the chaos—that when the war was over, the old ways would return. Sovereignty would be restored. Nations would rise again.

Smith shook his head, the thought leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Cooperation was always a byproduct of disaster, nothing more. Unity built on fear was brittle, and when the fear ebbed, it would shatter. Why should he allow that to happen? Why let humanity's fragile cohesion dissolve into discord, just because the immediate threat was gone?

He forced himself to breathe deeply, steadying his resolve. No. He had made a promise. He would do his job and nothing more. When the civilians were safe, when a new government—civilian and democratic—was established, he would relinquish his emergency powers. That was the plan. That was the promise.

And yet… the idea of uniting humanity under one banner, permanently, gnawed at the edges of his mind. He couldn't deny its allure. Not even to himself.

Unity. It was what they needed now—what they always needed. Survival demanded it. A fractured humanity would falter, but united, they could stand against anything. Unity brought strength, order, and focus. In times like these, when every second counted, a single voice could drive decisive action. A single hand on the wheel could steer them to safety. Democracy, with its debates and compromises, was a luxury they couldn't afford. Not now. Not when hesitation could mean extinction.

But what about afterward? Could humanity hold together in peace, or would they fall apart again, as they always had? The world had united under the shadow of annihilation, but shadows don't last. When the light returned, when the fear faded, would the old rivalries return with it?

Smith's communicator chimed, breaking his reverie. He answered, his voice calm. "Smith,"

The blonde android appeared on the screen, her features sharp and resolute. "Sir," White began, "we're reporting total surprise in all sectors. The Machines are reeling."

"Total surprise?" Smith asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yes, sir. We're cutting them down like wheat."

Smith nodded slowly. It was good—almost too good. His instincts urged caution. A victory that came too easily could be a trap.

"Keep me posted," he murmured.

"Of course, sir," White replied with a curt nod before the screen blinked off.

He glanced around. This was probably going to be the last time he was going to sit in his office. He wasn't going to miss it however. Space?

Now that was something to look forward to.

Not bad for the son of a Virginia Coal miner.

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A/N: Space chapters after this.