The hivemind is conquering for me? Chapter 755: "You Big Ox"

"The Castellans stand ready to provide artillery support if required. Their heavy weaponry can handle the Dinnac mech effortlessly if those idiots dare to appear. They play a key role in tomorrow’s assault on that fortress, so taking down that massive boomstick would earn our deep gratitude. We can’t get close without endangering our brothers trapped inside while that gun remains active."

Skaja flashed a smirk toward the Knight captain. "Don’t fret, captain. We might seem a little rough around the edges, but I’m confident our mission will succeed."

The captain raised his sword in salute. "Then we’ll await your return, whether triumphant or hard-pressed. We’ll stand ready for you."

With that, the knight order scattered to their tasks, and we clustered around Skaja as she unfolded a field map.

"Alright. It’s just a few miles to the slope Arch-Sentinel Lambdason indicated. With the base reinforcements, we’re nearly thirty strong—that’s too many for stealthy sabotage, so fifteen will remain here to back the knights while the others advance. When I say your name, you’re staying put. No arguments. You know I’m aware of all your strengths and weaknesses. If I tell you to stay, it’s for the mission’s success."

It wasn’t long before she listed all the names staying behind, leaving the uncalled ones as the advance team. They were:

Myself, Nerissa, Willow, Rhea, Skaja, Kephissa, Tamara, Francesca, Iilr, Greg, Morrgan, Bubble, Vine, Lena, and Ulf. Fifteen in total.

Eighteen counting Sithrik, plus Onyx and Sapphire who’d join at the fort.

The rest would hold position, prepared to assist as required.

We started gearing up for the underwater journey. Gear like the wall bombs and ammo went into waterproof pouches. Everyone but Nerissa and me donned grav-gear and breathing aids for submersion.

My armor could endure weeks in vacuum, in theory, and with Gyrokinesis already mine, I skipped prep and eyed the knights instead. They were downright impressive.

All appeared roughly humanoid: two legs—some digitigrade, others plantigrade—and two arms. Certain ones mounted guns like miniguns or heavy autocannons, while others wielded hands for various weapons.

The chassis housing the knight also held the viewport or sensors, eliminating any need for a head—just a protective dome atop it.

"You men and knights all get that same excited expression, I swear. I get they’re potent war machines, but why the ‘hell yeah, this is awesome!’ vibe? You know what I mean?"

I glanced at the woman beside me and sighed. "Francesca, it’s deeper than that. It’s the dream of piloting the mech, not merely their cool factor. The thrill of strapping in and kicking ass while taking names... Wait, that’s backward..."

My mangled words made Francesca giggle before she asked, "You serious? I know your power—you could smash a knight easily, and—"

"—So? It’s the fantasy of suiting up, piloting that metal beast. Sealed off from the world as you unleash specialized weapons on foes... That’s the ultimate thrill."

Francesca eyed me head to toe in my armor, her expression unreadable. Then I noticed she hadn’t switched to water gear.

"Not changing?" I inquired, and she shook her head.

"Nope, I’m right at home in water with my Psionics. I even form a water dome around my head to extract oxygen. Pretty cool, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that’s neat." I conceded, watching the knights and castellans a bit longer before sighing. "Fine, back to battle. Let’s finish this."

...

Sithrik joined our group of sixteen as we headed to the next site. The trek stayed simple at first until whirring sounds emanated from those around me. Spotting the cause, Skaja soon voiced my suspicion.

"Dense gravity pocket ahead. Move slow and careful. Gear will counter some spikes, but not everything. Stay sharp for thicker spots and warn others."

With Psionic sight extended and Gyrokinesis woven in, I soon sensed the heavy gravity clusters nearby and addressed the team. "Stick to my path, and we’ll pass through fine."

No objections came as I led the way, reaching the rocky slope without issue—though a new challenge awaited.

"Down." I hissed, dropping low; the pros behind me followed suit. Helmet off, I peered over the ridge. Drakoshi. Twelve scouts.

Skaja slid beside me, spotted them, and signaled the group with hand signs before whispering, "Clan Zolt, from those huge flamethrowers. Scout patrol. We must eliminate them fast. Apollo, Nerissa, Lena, me, Tamara, and Ulf—close in and strike. Everyone else, suppressors on weapons, ready to pick off any runners.

At that, I grabbed a spiked metal plate from my utility belt and affixed it to my chest armor, which pierced easily to shield my power core temporarily. It’d burn out quick, but I had ten spares.

Gyrokinesis proved perfect for hauling such extras.

I ditched my helmet to hide the purple glow, checking Nerissa too—her void-black eye slits met mine, sending a shiver down my back.

Skaja’s armor dulled to matte gold and black, sans wings.

Lena’s fingers twitched, Pyrokinesis recovery fueling her vengeance.

Tamara gripped her sword; sensing my look, she nodded—sharp, focused, lethal.

Ulf wore minimal armor, his dark skin blending into shadows. His huge warhammer mirrored the hunt test’s, but with a piercing spike added.

He grunted a nod, and we crept into position, descending at an angle from the bored-patrolling Drakoshi.

Of the twelve, half lacked armor, fresh by their size.

Twelve against six in ambush? Two each.

Child’s play.

Closer now, the footing grew crumbly, and fate twisted cruelly: lightly armored Ulf stepped, dislodging a rock chunk that clattered down the slope mere meters from foes.

Enough racket to alert the Drakoshi. Ulf faced a flamethrower barrel swinging his way.

"Shit."

The barrel’s tip glowed, then belched fire. Ulf’s eyes widened at doom’s rush, but a lithe figure leaped before him, absorbing the blaze. Roaring in pain from scorched arms, he saw the fight already over. Ignoring injuries, he eyed his savior—laughing, red eyes aglow, nude form turning to him cheerily.

"Watch it, you big ox. Lucky my hair regrows crazy fast, or I’d kick your balls."