Otomedius Excellent -ntsc-u--iso- Apr 2026

“The NTSC-U sector is lost,” Tita said, her own Angel—the Lord British —launching from the adjacent bay. “All remaining forces, form up. We’re punching a hole for the Excellion to retreat.”

“The core sings.”

“Status report!” Aoba yelled into her comm, strapping into the cockpit as the neural interface hummed to life. Otomedius Excellent -NTSC-U--ISO-

Diol’s Fairy flitted too close to a spire. The spire pulsed, and a wave of harmonic resonance shattered her shields. She spiraled, her engine flaming out. “My… my wings…” she whispered, before her signal vanished.

But Aoba had downloaded the . The illicit, black-market data fragment that Esmeralda had flagged an hour ago. It wasn't a file. It was a memory. A ghost from the first Bacterian war. It showed a lone pilot, a woman with steel-gray hair and dead eyes, flying a black Vic Viper into a similar living moon. The ISO ended with a single line of text: “The core sings. But only the damned can hear the lyrics.” Aoba’s hands trembled on the controls. The others launched in formation: Tita with her laser-focused precision, Strue in her armored Goliath unit, even the wildcard Diol in her unorthodox Fairy type. They were a wall of firepower. “The NTSC-U sector is lost,” Tita said, her

The ship lurched. The lights flickered. When they returned, the hangar’s main viewport showed a sight that made Aoba’s blood run cold.

Nergal’s Cradle screamed. The flesh hardened. The spires crumbled. The moon began to collapse in on itself, not from an explosion, but from a . It couldn’t process the infinite song. It couldn’t stop listening. Diol’s Fairy flitted too close to a spire

“If I fall back, who stops it?”