The two remaining Stalker mecha had taken note of this threat come out of nowhere as well.
That unknown black-armored warrior had, in the space of a bare few seconds, destroyed one of their Stalker mecha outright.
What in the world was going on here they had no idea.
But the terrifying sense of the threat was enough that they had their weapons sighted on that black-armored warrior at the first instant.
The black-armored warrior stood there without a change of expression, and an energy dome appeared about him.
Autocannon fire without number came down upon that energy dome, but did the black-armored warrior no harm of any substance.
'Warning, warning. The shield is under attack. Shield failure estimated in 30 seconds.'
30 seconds.
Enough.
The black-armored warrior's figure vanished once more from atop that Stalker mecha kneeling on the ground.
At a speed the naked eye could no longer follow.
Only those wearing visual-capture equipment could make out an object moving at high speed at all.
"This speed… how is it possible!" The pilot of the Stalker mecha on the left watched the life-form moving at high speed across his radar; at the rate it was closing, a bare few seconds would put it in front of him.
And at the thought of the attack his comrade had suffered a moment ago, he at once equipped a round shield and held it before the mecha's chest, to keep his cockpit from coming under threat.
Boom.
One great report, and the black-armored warrior's foot came down upon that mecha shield; the whole middle of the shield caved inward, and cracks ran out across it in a spider's web.
After which the black-armored warrior sprang, and appeared straight above the Stalker mecha's head.
In mid-air, the black-armored warrior brought his right leg up high, and swung it down at the Stalker mecha's head like an axe falling.
Another great report.
Boom.
This Stalker mecha dropped straight to its knees on the ground, and at the same time the whole of its head was simply gone, and the trunk of the mecha caved inward besides.
There came a hissing of current from it; by the look of things it was past all further use.
One left.
The black-armored warrior's eyes fixed upon the last Stalker mecha.
"Don't— don't— don't you come near me!" The last Stalker mecha started up every weapon it had, and loosed small missiles by the several.
Only a pity that the black-armored warrior's speed was truly too great; the sort of dense barrage an autocannon put up could still land upon him, granted—
but small missiles could not track the black-armored warrior's figure at all.
The reports of the blasts came one after another all the same.
Boom, boom, boom.
What the blasts stirred up cost the mecha pilot the enemy's position on his radar for a time.
"He ought… he ought to have been blown to bits, surely." The mecha pilot gulped and muttered it to himself.
Thud.
A sound came from outside — the sound of some heavy thing striking.
The mecha pilot was brought up short.
Thud.
Thud.
The striking came nearer and nearer, and its beat came faster and faster.
'Warning! Warning! Warning! The shield weapon is severely damaged in part. The frontal armor of the unit is under attack!'
The unit system's warning voice sounded now within the cockpit.
At which the mecha pilot hurriedly called up the imagery from outside the hull.
Before this, having his predecessor's example in front of him, he too had held his shield before his chest.
And now the external imagery caught that black-armored warrior striking at the shield, fist after fist.
And the mecha's shield was very nearly in pieces already — the damage had begun to tell even upon the unit's armor behind it.
"Withdraw! Withdraw! Withdraw at once!" The mecha pilot lost his head altogether. Trained though he had been, this fellow in front of him was truly too terrifying.
Simply not a normal creature at all!
But he found that, work his controls as he might, the mecha showed not the least intention of moving.
'Mecha circuit fault. Transmission system fault. Control system inoperative…'
To the mecha pilot at that hour, this voice was nothing short of a nightmare.
And those blows, coming one after another, were the tolling of the nightmare's bell.
Beyond which, he found his own cockpit beginning to be compressed and twisted without let-up; the space that had been tolerably comfortable grew, little by little, cramped about him.
"Aaagh—" And then, of a sudden, a fierce pain came in his chest.
He felt his chest being crushed, and several of his ribs at the least were broken.
But there was no chance whatever of his looking now, for the twisted cockpit had left him unable to manage even so simple an act as lowering his head.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
With those heavy blows coming one on another, he was not even given the chance to surrender.
And to the eyes of those outside—
the black-armored warrior was simply throwing punches without a pause. One fist, and another, and another after that.
In the space of a dozen-odd seconds the trunk of this Stalker mecha had been hammered inward, and there was engine oil seeping out through the cracks of it, mixed with blood.
Saint Cana and her people all watched the scene with eyes very near to those with which one watches a monster.
The black-armored warrior shook out his own hand; the black armor over that hand was gone.
"After a bit of exercise, the whole body feels a great deal easier." Zhao Chen worked his neck about, comfortable from head to foot.
Since he had been injected with the T4 Super-Soldier serum, this was the first time he had fought with this body of his to his heart's content.
He had tried fighting before, in the simulated combat pods aboard his starships, and knew where his own limits lay.
Dealing with mecha of this T3 grade was no trouble at all.
Only his body could still not bear up shellfire, so he carried a single-soldier combat suit of this kind, fitted besides with an energy-shield function.
Which served to help him fight the better.
"When we're back, have Annie alter this. There's no call for plating in a place like the fist." Zhao Chen looked at his own bared fist.
He had only to put a little force behind a blow and the armor at the fist was the first thing to shatter.
Happily, that did not affect the overall performance.
Zhao Chen looked about him. Those assassins who had made the attack, seeing how matters stood, had for the most part either withdrawn or died where they were.
But to guard against anything unlooked-for, and to see the task carried through—
Zhao Chen went back over to Saint Cana once more.
He looked at Saint Cana and her people, a bedraggled sight all round.
They had been the targets of the attack, after all; Zhao Chen and his party had merely come in for the overflow of it.
Saint Cana's party had been 15 to begin with.
In the attack just past, six were dead outright.
And of the nine remaining, half were wounded as well.
"Come with me."
The black-armored warrior spoke for the first time.
And then, without waiting on Saint Cana's agreement at all, he took her up and hauled her over his own shoulder, in a posture of the most shaming kind.
"What do you think you're doing!" Saint Cana's subordinates were on their guard against Zhao Chen at the first instant, and every weapon in their hands sighted on him.
"At this distance, I can finish the lot of you inside five seconds," Zhao Chen said coldly.
For all the arrogance of the words, there was not one person present who doubted them.
For this man was a monster who could take a mecha apart in his hands.
"Put down your weapons. Do as he says!" With the shame of it, the points of light across Saint Cana's face would not stop coming and going. Shaming the posture was — but as matters stood at present, this man appeared to mean them no harm.
And though this wave of the attack was over, who could say whether new attackers would not follow?
To go with him was, beyond doubt, the wisest choice there was.