Iron Skies: The Tides of Ruin — Arc One: Whispers on the March
The fortified border city of Koyant hums before dawn. Danger runs in the air. Lieutenant Rin Amase, not much older than twenty, walks the ruined outpost walls. He sees the orange suns just climb the peaks.
Across the muddy road below, the 2nd Border Brigade stirs. Rookie engineer Ayame grumbles, elbow-deep in twisted drone parts. ‘If Kodai-Tenshi launches tonight, we won’t last an hour,’ she mutters. You ever think what you’d do, just walking away?
Old commander Kuruga scowls at maps, calls for silence, draws thick lines and sketched arrows. Even the toughest soldiers grow quiet. The Kodai-Tenshi, an empire from the east, never leaves survivors. You’d listen too, in that tent.
In camp, rumors spread. ‘A Kodai super-weapon melted Fort Gane in minutes.’ ‘Whole squadrons gone from the sky.’ Tokyo sent no help. Fear cuts sharp.
‘Two platoons routed here, another fell at the creek.’ Rin checks his gear. Morning ragged, he crouches by Ayame. ‘You ever whistle as you march?’ he asks, a strange grin on his tired face. Starting now, winds speed up. You’d feel them, whistling softer, as if the world leaned in.
Koyant’s Elders, wrinkled and stiff, step from the main house. ‘Our land,’ they warn, ‘is soaked with what stayed behind. Don’t run.’ How many times has war touched this town, you think? What gives anyone here hope?
Rain falls. Under cover, Rin’s squad gathers at the supply truck. There’s tough Tadashi, mouth all jokes; Jun, sniper’s hard stare; Ceres, youngest, always full of luck. Ayame blinks — ‘The factory bots still work. Maybe.’ But it’s last-ditch hope. They check one another’s gear, hardly speaking.
March orders come at noon. The squad must cross Deadman’s Field, fields sown with scatter-mines, holding broken machines and bones. Corpses of old wars poke from grass. Ori, codename Coyote, radios orders; he’s ten kilometers out, fading, tired-edge in his voice. ‘Enemy air spotted: three minutes.’ What’s the plan when air’s the ally of death?
Tadashi nudges Rin: ‘What’s worse: mines or mortars?’ The new sun never gives answers. But the mines start first. A wave of high whines and thunder. Dirt, steel, and old bones leap. Ayame scurries with her drone-ring — a brace of seven hand drones, swarming out like metallic bees to clear the narrow path. They lose one to fire. Who would take this frontline spot if they had a choice?
A mortar round hits close by. Mud covers Jun’s face, teeth gritted in pain. Not fatal. Rin helps her, hand pressing her wound. There’s no time to stop. Adrenaline controls their legs now. Stray dogs run wild from the wheat. In minutes, they reach the trenchline before the southern farmhouse.
Anime-style command mecha march on far hills. Shadows behind thick clouds. Enemy scouts drop, cloaks flapping, darting between damaged trees, weapons silent. Rin whispers, ‘Ceres, top left—wait for it. Not yet.’ Pulse rifles level. Ceres’ shot is clean. Rin ducks, motioning Ayame low. They’re pinned as lasers pepper the upturned mud in wicked bursts. Do you think you’d have moved by now?
Flares describe poppy red in the green dusk. Tadashi leaps for a machine-gun nest, cuts down two Kodai scouts. Turrets scan, their endless eyes red with program logic. It feels like there’s a choice: press on or leave everything. But one’s only free on the run, or some say so.
A rout sweeps the Kodai forward team. More infantry surge, close combat uncertain. Kuruga shouts, ghost-faced: ‘Fall back! Use the tanks!’ Least, if any still roll. Three Ernai heavy tanks crawl out, covering fire pounding scarred earth. Air support never comes. Tokyo base offline. Quiet chimes ring out of broken helmets.
Ayame jumps the trench edge, scurries to set demo charges, face pale with sweat. Rin finds her solo, yells — ‘That’s suicide!’ Ayame just laughs: ‘So are we, you notice?’ Lightning splinters nearby sky. Twin mecha barrels split elegant arcs over the ridge — the Kodai lodge their aces, samurai-piloted machines, in the fight.
In a split-second flash, their tank line is wreckage. Fire turns damp air into blue glare. Ceres howls, running frantic into shadow, dodging metal and flesh alike. Jun steadies her shakes and locks another burst at the threats. Kuruga limps, bleeding and wild, one hand reaching for the com. ‘Kodai Titans in range. Three clicks and closing.’ Would you pull back, with two ace mechs coming up and the city behind you?
Rin draws them in. Stubborn pride, you can see it. ‘Let them try. We’re all that’s left.’ A metallic whistle overhead, sky burned pink and bruised. Koyant’s old schoolhouse stands in ruins, bodies pressed tight, no child dares peek.
‘If we hold here…’ Ayame’s voice cracks. Ignore fear, just breathe. Rin to his squad: ‘Every hand together. Aim at core plates. Stay close.’ Inside trench, Jun threads the words together: ‘Keep low, move only on my count. Don’t look up.’
They brace as a titan weapons platform smashes the farmhouse with cold fire and shock grenades. Radar cuts static, confirming — it’s them. Cold sweat climbs their backs. Ayame fumbles for a last round. Jun’s eyes burn: ‘If only my brother could see this.’ Plain phrases, heart laid flat.
Kuruga’s torn voice shouts: ‘This is last stand — reinforce north, I’ll cover west!’ Rain thick now. More Kodai convene; their mecha level red lancers at ground force weakspots. Sky full of dull rumble, rolling nearer. Coyote’s signal gone.
Now — the slow motion charge. Rin at the tip, gun heavy, lost boots crunch rocks. Tadashi is a step behind, Ayame dodging fire, holding drones in battered hands. ‘Together, we fight or together we fall!’
The last frames stop frozen: Rin’s eyes locked on the oncoming Kodai-Tenshi ace. Machine’s sword raised lift-high; it blocks the sun. The episode ends on this moment, thunder rolling and every fate on the line.
Do you let the story end here? Would you rise for another dawn in Koyant?
