Victorious Athea: My Gacha Luck Decides Humanity’s Fate

"Commander, what do we do now?" Irish asked, her voice tight with fear, her eyes never leaving the menacing figure of Flarion. 

he flicker of panic was evident in her gaze, even as she tried to maintain her composure.

John could see it in the others too—Nova's hand gripped her rocket launcher so tightly her knuckles were white, and the unease in Vera's posture was palpable, her fingers twitching near her controls. 

They were terrified.

He could understand it. Flarion wasn't just a threat; she was a monster, an unstoppable force of nature. The heat radiating from her alone could burn the air around them. 

She'd wiped out entire squads without a second thought, and now here they were, outmatched and outgunned, facing her down.

But this wasn't the time to be afraid.

John's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. "Look, it's evident that we can't win,"

 he said bluntly, the honesty in his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. 

There was no point in pretending otherwise. The odds were stacked against them. Their weapons were nothing compared to Flarion's overwhelming power. Retreat wasn't an option. Not yet.

A heavy silence followed, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He knew the crushing disappointment each of them felt, the crushing sense of helplessness. 

But John wasn't about to give up. Not like this.

"But..." His eyes flicked over his companions, locking on each of them in turn. "I have a plan to escape."

There was a flicker of hope in their eyes, but John's expression remained unreadable, his voice unwavering. 

"The catch is, you guys must follow my order to the teeth. No hesitation. No second-guessing. We move when I say, and we move together. You understand?"

The gravity of his words hit them like a ton of bricks. It wasn't just about survival anymore; it was about trust. 

Trusting him—trusting that he could lead them through this nightmare. And they didn't have the luxury of doubt.

Irish swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, her earlier fear replaced by resolve. "Understood, Commander."

The others followed suit, each of them steeling themselves for what was to come.

John exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving Flarion. The plan was risky—barely more than a gamble—but it was the only shot they had.

"We go now," John commanded, his voice a steady, unshakable presence in the chaos. "Move."

There was no time to waste, no room for doubt. Each second counted. His mind was focused, calculations running like clockwork.

"Vera, go straight to attack her."

Vera's eyes locked onto her target, nodding grimly. Without hesitation, she adjusted her stance and shifted forward, moving with fluid precision. There was no time for second thoughts or adjustments—she had to act now.

Flarion's gaze flicked toward Vera, her crimson eye narrowing with cruel amusement. A smirk played across her lips as she raised her hand, the air crackling with power. She aimed directly at Vera, preparing to obliterate her in an instant.

"Brave, but just a maggot," Flarion sneered, her voice dripping with venom.

"Left," John barked, his command cutting through the tension.

Vera responded immediately, diving to the left just as a beam of concentrated laser energy erupted from Flarion's hand, cutting through the air with deadly intent. 

The beam incinerated everything in its path, leaving a trail of destruction behind it.

But Vera was faster. With a swift roll, she dodged the attack, narrowly avoiding the beam that would have incinerated her in seconds.

Flarion's lips curled into another smirk. "Oh? You could dodge that?" she taunted, raising her arm once more, preparing to fire again.

"Shoot her head!" John ordered, his voice laced with urgency.

Vera's eyes burned with determination. She raised her shotgun and, despite the searing tension in the air, she fired. The shell blasted through the space between them—but it didn't even leave a scratch on Flarion.

The phoenix hybrid only laughed, the sound like the crackling of a fire. She raised her arm again, a laser blade extending from her forearm with a chilling hum.

"Tank it, Vera. Take the hit!" John's command was immediate.

Vera hesitated, her instincts fighting against the order. She wasn't ready to be a sacrifice—but she had no choice. She took the hit, bracing herself, but the force of the attack was too much. The blade sliced through her with brutal efficiency, cutting her in half with one clean strike.

"Vera!" Irish screamed, but John was already moving, his mind racing.

In the next instant, a hall of bullets from Iris came raining down on Flarion. 

The barrage was relentless, the deafening sound of gunfire mixing with the crackling flames. The shots found their mark, striking Flarion in the side. Her expression shifted, a flash of annoyance crossing her face.

"Huh. Get lost," Flarion growled, her red eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to burn through the very air.

Without warning, her arm shifted, and in a flash, she unleashed another devastating shot—so fast that no one had time to react. Iris, however, moved with unparalleled speed, her body twisting in the air, narrowly avoiding the deadly blast. 

The laser sliced through the space she'd just occupied, the explosion from the blast shaking the ground beneath them.

Flarion's expression darkened further, her annoyance palpable. Her body began to glow an even deeper crimson, radiating an intense heat that seemed to warp the air around her. 

Her wings unfurled with an ear-splitting crack, revealing the searing, molten flesh beneath, glowing like the core of a dying star.

A hum filled the air—a deep, ominous sound—before, in a blink, Flarion fired again. 

This time, a concentrated laser beam shot directly at Iris, moving so fast that the operator didn't even have time to blink. The shot struck with pinpoint precision, hitting her core and sending a jolt of destruction through her body.

Iris let out a sharp, pained gasp as her body went limp. Her form collapsed to the ground, her lifeless eyes staring into the abyss.

Flarion turned her attention back to Vera. The sight of the Athea's dismembered body only seemed to fuel her rage further. But even in her destroyed state, Vera wasn't done yet. 

Using the last remnants of her strength, she shakily reached for her weapon, her hand trembling as it grasped the handle. With a ragged, strained breath, she pulled the trigger.

The blast was weak—barely enough to even register—but it did the impossible. The shot found its mark, striking Flarion squarely in the wing, and the damage was immediate.

Flarion staggered back, her body jerking from the impact, her crimson eyes widening in brief surprise. But that moment of shock quickly dissolved into a seething fury.

Her bloodshot gaze locked onto Vera's limp form, and the air around her grew thick with violent energy. "This trash dares to shoot me?" she seethed, her voice a low growl, dripping with pure rage.

In a sudden, violent motion, she kicked Vera's broken body across the battlefield, sending it tumbling like a ragdoll, lifeless and discarded. But that was when the tables began to turn.

A deafening roar pierced the air as the hall of rockets shot through the sky, slamming directly into Flarion's side. 

The explosion erupted with a force that sent the corrupted Athea flying across the battlefield, her body hurtling through the air like a ragdoll. 

Her wings flared instinctively, struggling to regain control, but the shockwave had knocked her off balance. She tumbled, skidding across the scorched earth, barely managing to right herself.

It was Nova. She had landed the hit.

"Now!" John's voice sliced through the chaos, commanding their every move. Without a second of hesitation, he shot from his cover, his movement precise and calculated. 

His eyes locked onto Nova as he hurled the token toward her.

"Use it!" John shouted, urgency lacing every syllable.

In an instant, Nova caught the token, feeling the surge of raw power pulse through her veins. The moment it touched her, a crackling energy erupted around her, an unstoppable force swirling in the air like a storm on the verge of unleashing its wrath.

The Annihilator's token activated with a violent burst, and the nanomachines inside it flooded into Nova's body, transforming her. Her tactical gear dissolved into the air, replaced by a dazzling new form.

A skimpy yet battle-ready dress materialized, adorned with intricate draconic designs that shimmered with purple energy. The fabric clung to her figure, the exposed cleavage adding a sensual edge to her newfound power.

Black wing grew from her back, glowing with power.

Her rocket launcher warped before her eyes, transforming into a massive, mechanical dragon head. Its eyes glowed with malevolent energy as the mouth of the dragon opened with a mechanical hiss, revealing the deadly railgun inside.

The weapon hummed with dark, crackling energy, its lethal potential palpable in the air around it. Nova's eyes narrowed, her entire focus locking onto Flarion as she prepared to release the fury of the Annihilator's power.

"Take this, bitch!" Nova shouted, her voice sharp with defiance, the words barely escaping her lips before the weapon fired.

With a growl of satisfaction, Nova pulled the trigger. The railgun erupted with a violent surge of purple energy, the pulse so fast and powerful that it seemed to bend the very fabric of space as it shot through the air. 

The blast raced toward Flarion with incredible speed, faster than anything the corrupted Athea could react to.

The shot slammed into Flarion with a thunderous crack, tearing through her armor as if it were paper. 

The force of the blast consumed her, burning through her body and disintegrating her form in an explosion of searing purple light. 

Her once-proud figure was obliterated beyond recognition, reduced to nothing but burned flesh and molten metal.

For a moment, the battlefield fell silent, the air thick with the aftermath of the devastating strike. 

But deep down, John knew this wasn't the end. The hybrid's regeneration was notorious—Flarion would come back.

The hit from the railgun had been a one-hit wonder, an attack of such magnitude that it had to be recharged, leaving them vulnerable in the meantime. They wouldn't have long before Flarion would rise again.

"Nova, retrieve Vera and Irish!" John barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Nova hesitated for only a split second before nodding, determination replacing the uncertainty in her expression. With the Annihilator's power coursing through her, she spread her newly acquired wings, their sleek, draconic design glowing faintly with residual energy.

With a powerful beat, she soared into the air, scanning the battlefield below. Her sharp eyes quickly located Vera's upper torso, lying limp but intact, and Irish's mangled body, sparking faintly from where her core had been ruptured.

Diving swiftly, Nova landed beside them, her movements quick and precise despite the weight of her burden. Gripping Vera gently yet firmly, she slung the torso over one shoulder while lifting Irish with her other arm. 

The strain of carrying both was evident, even with her enhanced strength, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through.

"Go back to the elevator!" John commanded again, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"But, Commander... what about you?" Nova asked, her voice tinged with worry. She adjusted her grip on her companions, struggling to balance their weight as she prepared to take off.

"I'll call for enforcement!" John replied, pulling out a flare gun from his side. He aimed skyward and pulled the trigger, the weapon emitting a loud pop as a brilliant red flare streaked into the sky, cutting through the thick haze of smoke and ash.

Nova hesitated, glancing back at him. "But they won't arrive before she wakes up!"

She protested, her voice trembling as her eyes flicked toward the scorched remnants of Flarion. The corrupted Athea's regeneration was a terrifying certainty.

"Trust me," John said, forcing a bitter smile onto his face. "I have a plan, when you retrieve, fire the cannon when I commanded."

Nova's heart clenched, but she knew there was no time to argue. Every second wasted brought Flarion closer to returning. She swallowed her doubt, her wings extending as she prepared to leave.

"Don't die on me, Commander," she muttered under her breath. Then, with a mighty push, she launched herself into the air. Her wings beat rhythmically, carrying her and her precious cargo toward safety, away from the battlefield.

John watched her go, the bitter smile fading from his face as the reality of the situation sank in. 

He glanced back toward the smoldering crater where Flarion had fallen, the faint crackling of energy signaling her inevitable resurgence.

"This better work," he muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the flare gun.