Chapter 27: Sector Seven Ambush

The armored transport to Sector Seven bounced over the ruined wasteland like an angry, rusted tin can.

Inside the troop bay, Toby was practically vibrating in his harness, madly recalibrating an anti-matter pulse rifle while muttering equations that sounded like a stroke in progress. Killian sat across from him, sharpening his massive S-rank greatsword with a whetstone. Every heavy scrape of metal sent sparks flying across the floor, his broad shoulders practically taking up two whole seats.

And Phoenix? Phoenix was lounging across the benches with her boots kicked up on a crate of high-yield plasma grenades, peeling an apple with a black-market trench knife like she was on a beach vacation.

"Boss," Toby blurted out over the roar of the diesel engine, his goggles askew. "I've been looking at the tactical intel for Sector Seven. Calling it a 'meat grinder' is an insult to butchery. The outpost commander hasn't sent a supply report in three weeks, the local beasts are high-tier mutant aberrations, and the previous garrison was wiped out in forty-eight hours. Sterling didn't assign us a mission—he sent us to a fucking meat hook!"

"Relax, genius," Phoenix said, tossing an apple slice into her mouth and chewing casually. "If Sterling wanted us dead, he should’ve sent something stronger than a few overgrown lizards and bad logistics. Besides, frontline outposts mean no faculty supervision, no Class A snobs breathing down our necks, and zero rules."

Killian paused his sharpening, wiping down his blade with a rag. He looked up at her, his storm-blue eyes darkening with that raw, fierce intensity that always made her pulse do a funny little skip.

"Sector Seven is border territory, Boss," Killian growled, his gravelly voice rumbling under the roar of the engine. "If any Class A mercenaries or Sterling's hired assassins try to drop in on us, we can bury their bodies in the wasteland and nobody will ever find them."

"See?" Phoenix grinned, winking at him. "That's why Killian's my favorite. Cold, practical, and thoroughly bloodthirsty."

Killian’s jaw twitched. A deep, furious crimson wave instantly washed up his neck, creeping all the way to the tips of his ears. He slammed his sword back into its sheath with an aggressive CLANG, suddenly fascinated by the mud on his left boot. "I'm just... stating tactical facts, Boss."

"Right, tactical facts," Toby snorted, rolling his eyes as he soldered another circuit. "You look like a giant red lobster, man."

"Shut up, Lin, or I'll throw you out the rear hatch," Killian muttered, not daring to look in Phoenix's direction.

Before Toby could reply, the transport lurched violently to a halt. The intercom speaker overhead screeched with loud static before the driver's panicked voice cut through: "Ambush! Boss, we got a Class A interceptor squad blocking the canyon pass! They’re demanding to search the vehicle!"

Phoenix tossed her knife into the air, caught it by the hilt, and stood up with a slow, predatory stretch. Her dark eyes flashed with a brief, dangerous flicker of crimson dragon light before settling back into her harmless F-rank facade.

"Search the vehicle?" Phoenix purred, swinging her star-iron spear onto her shoulder. "Well, shit. It’d be rude not to welcome our guests."

She hit the hydraulic release button, and the rear ramp slammed down onto the desert dust.

Standing in the narrow rocky gorge were a dozen heavily armed Class A elite mercenaries, wearing high-tech power armor emblazoned with the noble crests of the Academy's top families. At the front stood a arrogant-looking S-rank commander holding a heavy plasma cannon, a condescending smirk plastered across his face.

"Squad Outcast!" the commander shouted, stepping forward. "By order of the Noble Coalition, your transport is carrying contraband stolen from the Imperial Vault! Surrender your weapons and step out for execution—I mean, inspection!"

Phoenix walked down the ramp, stepping into the scorching desert heat with her hands in her cargo pockets.

"Contract hit?" Phoenix asked pleasantly, taking a slow step toward him. "How much did Sterling pay you dickheads to intercept us out here?"

"That's classified, defect," the commander sneered, raising his plasma cannon right at her chest. "Now get on your knees before I blow a hole through your—"

He didn't get to finish the sentence.

Phoenix vanished.

Before the mercenary's brain could even process that she was gone, Phoenix reappeared directly in his personal space. Her hand shot out like a strike of lightning, grabbing the barrel of his six-figure plasma cannon and crushing it into a metal pretzel with her bare fingers.

CRUNCH.

The commander stared in absolute, shock-induced horror at his ruined gun, then looked up into Phoenix’s dark eyes—which were glowing like twin supernovas of pure dragon rage.

"Wrong answer," Phoenix whispered.

She grabbed him by his power-armored collar, spun on her heel, and slammed him face-first into the canyon wall so hard the solid stone cracked like glass.

"Killian! Toby!" Phoenix shouted over her shoulder as the remaining eleven mercenaries frantically scrambled to draw their weapons. "Clear the road! We’re on a schedule!"

"With pleasure, Boss!" Killian roared.

The SS-rank vanguard exploded off the ramp like a runaway freight train, his metallic aura flaring golden as he tackled three mercenaries at once, plowing them straight into the dirt. Meanwhile, Toby set up a portable plasma turret in three seconds flat, cackling like a mad scientist as a wall of blue laser fire lit up the canyon.

"You picked the wrong transport, boys!" Toby screamed over the gunfire. "Squad Outcast is in town!"

Phoenix stepped over the unconscious commander, dusted off her hands, and lit a cigarette with a flick of her thumb.

It took thirty seconds.

By the time the dust settled, twelve high-tech Class A mercenaries were groaning in a twisted pile of broken power armor and shattered weapons.

Killian wiped a smudge of oil off his forehead, stepping beside Phoenix as Toby hauled their gear back into the transport. "Road's clear, Boss."

"Good job, boys," Phoenix smirked, blowing a ring of smoke toward the desert sky as she climbed back onto the transport. "Let me know when we hit Sector Seven. I hear the frontline food is terrible, and I intend to complain to the management."