The grenade I launched explodes in the midst of the militiamen, forcing them to scatter. The incoming gunfire slackens for the barest moment and The Voice takes the opportunity to begin pulling the drones up from their originally steep dive. My stomach falls from under me as the construction drone releases the container that I am standing on, pitching it towards the landing area. Dropping on all fours, I hang on tight to the container as it is sent careening through the air, hoping that I won't be thrown off on impact.

"There has to be a better way off doing this." I mutter while pressing myself down against the container. I hear the sound of the drone formation revving their engines and fleeing the scene. If all goes well, they should return to pick me up once the mission is complete.

The Voice rasps, "At such short notice? No."

The containers thrown from the drones form an avalanche of metal that hits the landing area hard, squashing any militiamen that do not manage to dodge in time. As the container I am riding on begins to skid forward from the momentum of the drop, I get back up to my feet and fire another grenade at the retreating defenders. The frag shell detonates and flays a small cluster of the militiamen, leaving them torn and bloody. The defenders nevertheless begin to get over their surprise at this unorthodox means of attack, with the riflemen separating into two groups which spread towards the sides of the landing area. The center of the enemy formation is a solid block of swordsmen and women who have their weapons drawn and advance steadily towards the containers before them.

"Judecca Militia." I comment offhandedly, "Seems strange to be going back to fighting mooks after all this while."

The containers burst open and large mechanical forms begin charging out towards the line of guards. Resembling massive misshapen hunting dogs, the combat drones bear rectangular oversize heads without any cameras or other sensory organs installed, as The Voice is directly controlling the entire group remotely. The mecha dogs' bodies are shrouded in unpainted armor for protection. The naked metal, combined with the drone's clearly unfinished construction, gives the attackers a dull, sloppy look.

Expendable troops, meant to be deployed in their hundreds against the defenders.

The Judecca Militia does not waver at the sight of the incoming wave of death and the swordsmen stand firm, raising their blades in unison as they begin to focus their spirituality. Shit. I forgot that these guys had an area of effect attack. Before I can reload my grenade launcher and bring it back into play, the militiamen bring their blades down as one and a blast of spiritual energy is fired at the attack drones charging the line. Explosions rip through the horde of drones accompanied with the tortured scream of tearing metal. But The Voice refuses to break off its attack and the drones keep charging forward regardless of the carnage.

A stream of bullets pummel me from the right, leaving me staggering and gasping for breath. As I am struggling to regain my balance, I am hit from the opposite side by another hail of gunfire, sending me sprawling on to the container. Crossfire, my mind tells me as my lips kiss the cold metal. I have been caught in a crossfire. I hear the rattle of bullets being sprayed across the containers while struggling back to my feet.

"Combat drone strength at sixty percent. Spawn points under attack." The Voice rumbles, "Get back up and support my advance, Transmigrator."

On it boss. These guys might be mooks, but they are still plenty dangerous. I unhook a flash bang from the bandoleer and chuck it at the swirling melee breaking out in front of me. The explosion of sound and light sends the militiamen reeling backwards, but is no impediment to the drones, which press their attack under the direction of The Voice. The mechanical dogs rear up and their boxy heads split horizontally like a pair of scissors opening, revealing a massive jaw that has a single long blade mounted on each side. With a snap, the jaws snap shut, cleaving men and women messily into half at the waist. The militiamen raise their blades in an attempt to block, but the dogs duck under the swords in response, their scissor mouths slashing away at the legs of their targets.

Several of the defenders fall, blood spurting from the stumps of their limbs, but more and more militiamen begin trooping out from the depths of the Tower. Sword blows rain down on the attack dogs and pack's momentum is brought to a grinding halt. The riflemen, realizing that their comrades are in peril, turn away their attention from me and begin hosing down the drones with lead. I reload the grenade launcher and begin firing into the tightly packed crowd of suits. Cries of pain merge with the sound of explosions, but the Judecca Militia refuses to break.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

After all, regardless of the losses they have suffered, they are managing to push the dogs back. Shards of broken armor and mechanical components litter the landing area. One by one, the attack drones go down in bursts of guttering flames.

"Combat drone strength at twenty percent." The Voice rumbles with barely concealed amusement, "Releasing wave two."

The doors of the containers burst open again and a fresh horde of mecha dogs is thrown against the defenders. Taking the cue, I send another flash bag arcing right into the defenders' line, stunning them and preventing the militia from bracing against the incoming charge. The pack hits the defenders like a battering ram, pushing the entire line back, separating the swordsmen from the rifles that had been securing their flanks. With all three groups now isolated from each other, the rearmost members of the pack break off from the charge and tear into the riflemen instead.

With the lines having merged, I set the grenade launcher down and draw the revolver, firing away at the militiamen that had been knocked loose from their formation. Hardly anyone notices a few more men being dropped thanks to being shot. Not with the scissor dogs trying to tear their faces off. But someone does take take offence at what I am doing.

A fierce war cry is shouted over the chaos as a militiaman surges his spirit and takes a flying leap towards me, soaring over his comrades with his blade held high. The man's face is a rictus of hate mixed with determination, his form growing rapidly larger as it speeds towards me like a comet.

"Face justi -"the militiaman's shriek is cut off from the impact of my fist landing squarely on his gut. I smile in amusement as the man is rocketed back over his comrades and crashes into one of the spotlights, releasing a shower of sparks.

"I believe that it is time for wave three." The Voice chuckles as the containers open their doors once more. Another flash bang is sent flying into the mass of guards and this time, battered and bloody from the previous encounters, they fail to resist the incoming charge. The militiamen are thrown backwards into the depths of the Tower, scrambling off in full retreat down the corridor. The attack dogs bound after the routing guards, snapping away at their heels.

"The power of infinity Transmigrator." The Voice crows triumphantly.

"Yeah." I reply while jumping off the container that I had been perched on, "But attack dogs, really? I was expecting something, well, more impressive, to be frank."

"Wolves." The Voice sniffs, "Do not mistake that noble creature for its domesticated counterpart."

"Alright, fine, attack wolves." I quip, "Doesn't change my point though. Also, those looked nothing like any wolf I have ever seen."

"They drove our enemies back. That makes them impressive by definition." The Voice grumbles, "And I cannot be blamed for your ignorance in not knowing what an actual wolf looks like."

Wow. The Voice is getting really sniffy about this. And what's this about 'actual wolves'? Just as I am ruminating over what The Voice has been babbling about, the decapitated head of one of the drones is sent flying at me from the battle still raging ahead of us. I easily catch the projectile with one hand and see a familiar figure making his way out of the corridor bearing a saber. The man's clothes are torn from slashing his way past the drones, but not a single injury marks his body. The red thread of Fate wraps itself securely around his body, crackling in readiness for what is to come.

"No tongue." Castiel remarks, "The Tyrant has a sense of humor at least."

"Don't know what you're talking about. Don't care." I respond, "Cuck man's too cucked to go save his friends?"

A tired smile comes from the Incarnate, "The real fight is here. Stop trying to fool me blackguard, you're doing a poor job of it."

I shrug and draw the shin gunto, "Let's get the main event started then."

"A question first." Castiel says as he raises the saber, "What did the Tyrant promise for you to help in the enslavement of this world?"

"I am either going to be a king or a very rich man once all this is over." I grunt, "Not that it matters to you in either case."

Castiel's eyes boggle at my answer, "You would corrupt a pair of innocent teenagers and turn one of them into a murderess for something so petty?"

"They're just doing what's natural to them." I laugh, "You can't blame me for any of that."

"Scum. You're the lowest sort of scum." Castiel snarls, genuinely angry.

I point my sword at Castiel and shoot back, "What did your goddess promise you then? What did you get in return for playing the white knight?"

Before he can say anything, I tap my chin in a faux thinking gesture and answer my own question, "Let me guess, she allowed you to bang her didn't she? Your eternal loyalty for ten minutes of heaving and pumping?"

Castiel's face goes all red when he hears the words coming from my mouth. Bingo. If Fate was originally an otome heroine, then that was all she really needed to do to get her husbandos on board with the program. A sullen silence rises from Castiel, as he looks down despondently.

"You know what the real difference is between us cuck man?" I ask rhetorically.

Castiel doesn't answer, but glares at me, hate oozing out from every single pore on his face.

"Unlike you, I don't need to share my reward with anyone." I declare with a laugh.

And Castiel throws himself at me with a bestial cry, tears running down his face.