The Phantoms of the left wing squadron, after fierce engagement, finally dealt with every enemy craft. Seeing the situation turn dire, the Vipers of the right wing squadron immediately turned tail and fled.

They didn't get far before running straight into the reinforcements dispatched by the Coalition Fleet. The sheer weight of numbers in the relief force easily overwhelmed and destroyed them.

Blade saw the Vipers scatter and keyed his comms, issuing a single order: "Return to base."

Behind him, four Phantom fighters executed a tight maneuver, latching onto the crash-landed Phantom and towing it back. The military fighters that had launched alongside Blade from Narcissus City followed in their wake, all heading back toward the city.

As for the pilots who had ejected during the battle, rescue units were naturally already en route to retrieve them.

On the return journey, a priority communication request pinged on Yu’s fighter. Blade casually accepted the call.

The Colonel commanding the temporary base appeared on the holographic screen, his expression still etched with shock. Blade snapped a crisp salute: "Colonel Blade, on behalf of the military, I want to thank you for your service."

Blade simultaneously set his fighter to autopilot as he replied, "We were helping ourselves, Colonel. It was just a mission; nothing to thank us for."

To Blade, these had just been a few Viper fighters. Only the lead, a high-ranking Apex Ape, had presented any challenge; the apprentice-level pilots were beneath his notice.

Still, even saying that, the feeling of being thanked was genuinely quite pleasant.

"Your modesty does you a disservice, Colonel," the officer stated gravely. "This victory was so absolute, it truly took me by surprise. I am well aware of how formidable the Viper fighters are, but the craft you commanded—ah, please forgive me, I still don't know what your aircraft are called."

He realized then that he’d been so swept up by the reports of the victory that he’d made contact without clarifying anything. Asking the name of their aircraft in front of Blade now felt incredibly rude.

Because mercenary craft were almost always outdated hand-me-downs, he had never bothered to study the hardware used by the Tran Mercenary Group. Even knowing the Tran Group was one of the Four Great Super Mercenary Organizations, he had subconsciously ranked their combat capability below that of the regular military.

He had never encountered the Phantom fighter model before, and he simply could not accept that they were a match for the Vipers.

This was because the more precise a weapon system, the more complex its control became.

The Viper fighter was specifically designed for Apex Apes; a standard Ape inside one would be lucky just to get it airborne.

When piloted, the Viper generated a massive torrent of combat data, and its control methodology was so intricate that a standard Ape would be utterly lost. It required a vastly superior cognitive capacity to unleash its full potential! Once its performance was fully tapped, it far outclassed standard fighters by a factor of ten.

Although Phantom pilots lacked innate psychic power, with the assistance of the bio-neural computer, their cognitive abilities were in no way inferior to those of the Apex Apes. Coupled with the Phantom, which boasted superior performance to the Viper, achieving such a result was hardly surprising.

Blade saw the military Colonel’s flustered look on the screen and sighed inwardly. Military prejudice against mercenary strength was sometimes unfounded, but it existed nonetheless, deep-seated and stubborn.

He had only heard others—those from large mercenary groups who had suffered such slights during wartime missions—mention this issue before. Now, he had finally encountered it firsthand.

"The craft we fly is called the Phantom," Blade shrugged, adding, "And there’s nothing you need to apologize for; we’re even. I still don't know how to address you, for that matter."

"You may call me Colonel Ian," Colonel Ian coughed slightly. "The Phantom fighter, you say? Truly impressive. You launched with twelve, and you return with eleven; the one lost was merely forced down due to heavy damage. Against the Apex Ape Vipers, this is a rare and massive victory."

Colonel Ian paused, then continued, "As you return, I will say no more. I will await your return, Colonel, and the return of your contingent, at the temporary command post. Comms clear."

"Comms clear."

Nothing further occurred. Upon returning to Narcissus Central Park, Blade's communicator chimed. He opened the channel—it was Colonel Ian again.

"Colonel Blade, we are right below you. Can you see us?" Colonel Ian asked.

Blade tapped a button on the control panel, activating a large display screen showing the view directly beneath the fighter. The square in front of the temporary command post was packed with people—at least three hundred individuals, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in dense, orderly lines behind a barrier.

"I see them," Blade confirmed.

"Please land on the plaza," Colonel Ian requested with a smile.

"Understood."

Blade didn't know what the host was planning, but he was certain there was no ill will directed toward him. Many of the military craft from Narcissus City had witnessed his battle with the high-ranking Apex Ape. With no psionics left in Narcissus City, provoking him would be completely unnecessary for them.

Terminating the communication, Blade guided the Phantom squadron down, landing directly in front of the waiting crowd.

As he cycled the cockpit open, the crowd erupted in applause and cheers voiced with genuine warmth. Blade scanned the faces and noted they were composed entirely of officers and soldiers from the temporary command headquarters.

Colonel Ian stood at the very front. He stepped forward two paces and greeted him enthusiastically, "Welcome back!"

Blade dropped from the hatch and shook Colonel Ian's hand, asking, "I noticed the civilians are still gathered near the perimeter. Will holding a welcome reception here interfere with the evacuation protocols?"

Colonel Ian replied easily, "No trouble at all. We still have over a thousand personnel maintaining the command structure. Everyone here is free for a moment. The reception is scheduled for only five minutes to ensure it doesn't impede the evacuation effort."

Blade nodded.

Colonel Ian's expression turned complex. "The clean-up teams just sent word back. They examined the wreckage of the Viper commander you personally executed. From the remains—that pile of pulp—they recovered his identification plaque. The plaque indicated he was..."

"A high-ranking Apex Ape? I already deduced that," Blade interrupted.

"Indeed," Colonel Ian affirmed seriously, nodding. "In that case, this reception is absolutely necessary. That was a high-ranking Apex Ape." Colonel Ian took a bottle of champagne from an aide, shook it violently, and then added, "This is the finest champagne we could procure from the local department store. Since no one will be here after tomorrow anyway, we might as well borrow it."

Saying this, he aimed the bottle opening at the nose of Blade's Phantom fighter, yanked the cork, and with a loud pop, a white plume of foam erupted, arcing in a white line directly onto the fighter’s forward plating.

Blade was unfamiliar with military methods of celebration, especially those of the 27th century. He let Colonel Ian proceed; after all, alcohol wouldn't harm the Phantom, and in such a joyous atmosphere, he had no desire to dampen the mood.

After the champagne streamed for a moment, the flow slowed, suggesting the bottle was nearly spent. Someone nearby handed over a crystal flute. Colonel Ian poured half a glass and presented it to Blade, saying, "Here, a toast to the smooth completion of the evacuation!"

Seeing the glass extended toward him, Blade accepted it and echoed, "To the smooth completion of the evacuation," before draining the contents in one gulp and handing the empty glass back.

"Excellent!" the soldiers and officers nearby applauded again warmly.

Colonel Ian clapped twice himself, then turned and shouted, "Attention!"

The crowd instantly snapped to silence, their heels hitting the ground with a unified snap as they straightened their bodies, eyes fixed forward.

"Salute!" Colonel Ian called out again. He then led the group, raising his hand to his cap brim, and everyone mirrored the gesture.

All eyes turned toward Blade, showing expressions of profound respect. The dense mass of people stood motionless as stone; the only sounds were the rushing wind and the distant murmur of the city carried on the breeze.

Blade felt a surge of emotion seeing this display and raised his own hand to return the salute to the crowd.

Colonel Ian then commanded, "Dismissed!"

The men lowered their hands and began to disperse.

Colonel Ian turned back to Blade. "We should return to work now. The reinforcements sent by the Coalition Fleet in space have just arrived here, and I need to organize them. Given the tight timeline, I hope you don't mind this rather simple welcome reception, Colonel Blade."

"Not at all," Blade replied with a smile.

After the reception concluded, Blade summoned the original owner of that Phantom fighter, the Ensign pilot, returned the craft to him, and then instructed the Captain pilot—the one who had made the bet—to lead the rest of the squadron back into space to rest aboard the flagship.

He then spent some time chatting with several officers who came forward to ingratiate themselves, showing not a hint of impatience.

Once these formalities were finished, he did not return immediately to his assigned sector. Instead, he sought out the Phantom special agent unit that had accompanied him to Narcissus City, locating them within the temporary command headquarters.

There were five formations of Phantom agents who had been deployed this time. Like the Phantom fighters, they all held the minimum rank of Ensign, being a unit comprised entirely of commissioned officers.

The temporary headquarters had prepared two military tents specifically for the Phantom agents. Blade maintained his smile as he walked from the plaza to the tents, but the moment he stepped inside the first tent, his expression instantly hardened.

A Phantom Agent Major stepped forward and asked, "Colonel Blade, what is the situation?"

"Is it secure to talk here?" Blade asked quietly.

"Perfectly secure. We have complete control over this tent," the Agent Major confirmed.

Receiving the affirmation, Blade nodded and stated, "There is one matter I need you to attend to immediately. Do you recall that welcome reception just now?"

The Agent Major affirmed, "We do. We sent people to observe."

Blade’s face darkened. "That bottle of champagne was poisoned."