Chapter 133 - Miss Commanding Officer

The students of Orbital Tech had finally assembled with full attendance—an unusual sight, especially in the dead of night. But this was an emergency. The moment our smartwatches and morphers buzzed with the high-priority alert, every WAIFU and Support Unit knew it was non-negotiable: report to the open field of the campus, no delays.

Then, like a signal fire in the gloom, the university dean made her entrance. Rebecca Summers—an icon whose name still echoed in archived battle footage and old WAIFU rankings—strode confidently into the center. 

She was a middle-aged woman with striking crimson hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, its luster defiant of time. Her golden-framed eyeglasses shimmered beneath the floodlights, casting glints that sharpened the intensity of her unnaturally pale skin, a likely result of rigorous skincare regimens and a lifestyle far removed from the battlefield.

It was my first time seeing the Dean in person. I had vague memories of her from my childhood—flashes of her dominating the skies, a paragon of strength and poise. Back then, she was one of the most renowned WAIFUs of her generation, eclipsed only by the legendary Mirana Alicent. Now, standing before us, she still radiated that larger-than-life presence.

I stole a glance at Myrrh. Her lips curled into a confident smirk, but her eyes held a sharp, unwavering focus as she locked onto the Dean. There was admiration in that look—perhaps even challenge.

“Listen up, WAIFUs and Support Units!” Dean Summers declared, her voice commanding and fluid as her hips subtly swayed with each step. “The situation is critical. If you look to the heavens, you’ll see it for yourselves—we are under invasion by a foreign celestial body, and with it comes a tide of Cosmic Beasts beyond counting. The Archonlight, under the command of the Kaiserin, currently shields us. But we cannot be certain how long the tower will hold.”

Her words struck like bolts of static. A ripple passed through the crowd. Some students whispered nervously, their eyes flicking to the sky. Others buzzed with adrenaline. Fear. Thrill. Shock. It was a mixture of all three. After all, this would be the first time that even first-years—barely trained, barely tested—would be thrown into real combat against the Cosmic Beasts.

And yet, the very fact that we were being called upon made it clear: the situation was desperate. Every fighter, no matter how green, would be needed.

“Third Years will be stationed in the Mesosphere. You are the first line of defense before the Cosmic Beasts reach the Archonlight barrier,” the Dean declared, her voice firm and unwavering. “Second Years and First Years, you will be deployed either on the surface or up into the Stratosphere, depending on your combat range and specialties. Support Units, your duty is here—remain on the surface and provide logistical and long-range support.”

A fresh wave of murmurs surged through the assembled rows of WAIFUs and Support Units. Some shifted nervously; others whispered with electric anticipation. 

I turned to glance at Remuel and Cindy. Their eyes sparkled with excitement—raw, youthful eagerness that came from the thrill of finally facing a real battle. Aside from the Licensure Examination Tournaments and the Versus Battles that traditionally opened the Xyraxis New Year, this would be their first encounter against actual Cosmic Beasts.

Myrrh and I, on the other hand, had been through the fire before. This wasn’t our first dance with death. We stood more calmly, silently prepared. My gaze drifted to Fei. Her jaw was set, her eyes sharp with determination. She didn’t say a word, but I knew what she was thinking. She had once aided a Cosmic Beast during the chaos of the Blackout Incident—a heavy mark on her record—but that same experience meant she probably knew exactly how those monsters fought.

Then, the Dean stepped forward and raised her voice one last time, now laced with something deeper—hope, command, and unshakable pride.

“We, the future of the WAIFUs, stand as the final wall between the Cosmic Beasts and our home. While the Vanguard clears the skies above, you—students of Orbital Tech—will become the shield below. Trust your training. Trust each other. Today, your strength will be tested. And I believe in every one of you.”

She raised her balled fist high, as if summoning the fire of the entire academy.

“For Xyraxis! For the Kaiserin!”

All of us—soldiers forged on the neon-lit battlefields of this cyberpunk world—raised our fists high in unison, voices colliding into a single, thunderous cry that echoed across the open field.

“For Xyraxis! For the Kaiserin!”

The Dean’s chant surged through us like a pulse of raw energy. It was my first time taking part in a real warcry—no staged rehearsal, no tournament crowd, just the cold weight of war looming above us and the heat of purpose burning within.

As soon as the assembly ended—and the Dean’s charismatic war speech still echoed in our minds—we, the students of Orbital Tech, were swiftly organized by year level and ushered into designated space shuttles for deployment formation. The night sky above was ablaze with stars, streaked by orbital lights and distant aerial units preparing for war. The mood was tense but focused; we knew what was coming.

Inside our shuttle, the cabin lights dimmed, and a holoscreen flickered to life above the aisle. A presentation interface blinked open, and after a brief pause, a familiar face appeared on the podium.

She stepped into frame with a poised elegance: long, wavy white hair cascading like starlight down her back, and piercing golden eyes that held a disciplined calm. She wore the standard WAIFU battlesuit like the rest of us, but a crimson armband around her left shoulder marked her distinction. It was Michelle Gehabich—a formidable Third Year, and someone Myrrh and I had fought just a few months ago in the Licensure Examination Tournament.

“My name is Michelle Gehabich, Third Year student of Orbital Tech,” she announced with measured confidence, bowing slightly. “The Dean has appointed me as your commanding officer for this operation. It will be a pleasure to fight alongside you.”

There was a beat of silence, then the shuttle buzzed with murmurs. Most of the male students were visibly taken aback—eyes wide, jaws slack. The girls, meanwhile, whispered with admiration at her calm, composed aura. She had that kind of presence: someone who didn’t need to raise her voice to be respected.

As for me, a smirk tugged at my lips. It had been a while since I’d last seen this remarkable senior of ours—cool, graceful, and impossible to ignore.

Then, Michelle’s eyes shifted, and for the briefest moment, her golden gaze locked onto mine. Her lips curved upward, just slightly—a soft, knowing smile.

“Oh, great,” Myrrh muttered under her breath, arms crossed. “Now we’ve got an attention-seeking senior bossing us around.”

“Miss Alicent, did you say something?” Michelle asked, her voice soft and polite, but with a subtle edge hiding beneath the kindness. That smile she wore—it was graceful, sure, but also carried the weight of a provocation.

“Oh, nothing, Miss Commanding Officer,” Myrrh replied with a smirk, her tone dripping with mock civility. She leaned back in her seat, arms folded with theatrical ease. “Please, do continue with the briefing.”

I sighed inwardly. I couldn’t tell if this was some kind of playful rivalry or something more personal. Back in the tournament, both Michelle and Myrrh gave each other hell on the battlefield—neither willing to back down, neither claiming true victory. Maybe they respected each other. Maybe they just couldn’t stand each other. But now, that cold war from months ago was flaring up again, only this time, in the middle of an actual mission.

Michelle gave a quiet, measured “Ahem,” and then raised her hand to the holomap hovering in the air above the aisle. A digital representation of the Archonlight Tower flickered into view, surrounded by concentric defense rings and glowing with energy pulses.

“Our squad has been assigned to defend the Second Quadrant, near the western perimeter of the Archonlight Tower,” she said crisply, pointing to a flashing sector on the map. “This area is expected to be under heavy assault from aerial-class Cosmic Beasts, so we’ll be utilizing long-range weaponry: Beam Rifles, Rail Cannons, and anti-air Ultimates. You’re free to use any ranged-specialized weapons at your disposal.”

She turned to the Support Units lined along. “You’ll be responsible for continuously summoning and supplying long-range weapons and ammunition until our reinforcement team arrives. Prioritize precision over quantity. I want clean coverage, not a fireworks show. Clear?”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” we chorused, the cabin ringing with the collective reply.

“Good.” Michelle nodded, tapping her watch. “Deployment window in ten minutes. Get yourselves ready. Dismissed.”

The holomap dissolved into pixels as the cabin lights brightened, and the shuttle’s engines let out a low hum as we neared the drop zone. Around me, the squad stirred—some checking their WEEB, others adjusting their combat suits or exchanging glances filled with nerves, excitement, or both.

But beside me, Myrrh was unusually quiet, her eyes fixed ahead, jaw tight.

This mission was about to begin. And between the tension in the shuttle and the storm waiting outside, I could already feel the chaos brewing.

As the meeting concluded, the students gradually settled into their seats or began checking over their gear in silence. The air still carried the weight of the briefing, but the tension had eased—at least for now.

Then I noticed her—Michelle—stepping toward me with composed elegance. Her golden eyes locked onto mine, unwavering and sharp as ever. When she reached me, she extended a gloved hand with the same practiced grace she carried into battle.

“Nice to see you again, Mister Callahan,” she said, her voice warm yet formal. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Yeah, ditto,” I replied, offering a small smile as I reached out and took her hand. “I’m glad someone as reliable as you is leading us into this mess.”

We shook hands—once, twice, then again and again. It should’ve ended by the third shake, but Michelle didn’t let go. Her grip remained firm, almost stubbornly so, while I’d already relaxed mine. By the tenth shake, I felt awkward. By the fifteenth, I was wondering if this was some kind of unspoken power move.

Then—whoosh.

“Hyaaah!”

A blur of yellow green whipped past us as Myrrh suddenly swooped in, her hand aimed in a precision karate chop directly at our still-joined hands. Reflexively, Michelle released her grip just in time, and I yanked my hand back, narrowly avoiding impact. Had she connected, who knew what sort of fractures we’d be nursing…

“Come to think of it, Miss Commanding Officer…” Myrrh said, stepping between us with a dramatic flick of her hair, her brows arching in full sass mode. “Where’s your WEEB partner? You know—that tall, skinny nerd you fawn over like he’s some limited-edition gacha pull?”

Her tone was sharp, mockingly inquisitive, and her expression carried a smug edge that screamed poke the bear.

I couldn’t tell if she was jealous, territorial, or just being Myrrh.

Maybe all three.

“Oh, Aurelio?” Michelle responded with a soft sigh. “He’s been assigned to supervise another First Year squadron. So, sadly, I’m left without a Support Unit.”

Her gaze met mine again—direct, golden, and unreadable. Then, with unexpected elegance, she dipped into a graceful curtsy… while taking my hand.

And not just holding it—she lifted it gently with both hands, as if presenting me with a diamond ring.

“Mister Callahan,” she said with an almost theatrical flourish, “will you be my Support Unit?”

I froze. Completely blindsided. For a split second, I forgot how to breathe.

Sure, it wasn’t a romantic proposal, but tell that to my overactive imagination and flushing cheeks. I was being asked out—technically, for combat support—but my brain chose to file it under marriage proposal and went into full red alert.

Then suddenly—squish.

A warm presence clung to my right arm, wrapping tightly around my elbow. I looked down and blinked. It was Fei.

“U-um… Miss Commanding Officer…” Fei said in a trembling yet determined voice. “I’m sorry, but he’s already taken. Zaft is my Support Unit.”

Her voice cracked slightly with overprotective sincerity, and her grip tightened like she was afraid I’d be stolen away.

Before I could even process that, my left arm was claimed next—squishier this time.

Myrrh had latched on with no hesitation, and I instantly recognized the familiar, smug pressure of her very assertive… chest.

“Tch. Zaft is my goon,” Myrrh declared with a sassy toss of her head. “He’ll be my Support Unit, so go find someone else, Miss Commanding Officer.”

Her tone oozed challenge, and her eyebrow twitched just enough to say: Touch him again and you’ll see fireworks.

And there I was—arms outstretched, blushing like a ripe tomato, caught in a tug-of-war between a cool silver-haired senior Michelle, an overprotective Fei, and an aggressively possessive Myrrh.

Sure, I’ve had harem fantasies before… but not like this.

Not with my body about to be ripped in three different directions.