Tomy didn't press anything immediately.
The Black Garuda Protocol still blinked on the screen. Red. Silent. Awaiting a decision.
Outside the cockpit, the sea began to change color. The deep blue of Cenderawasih Bay was drawn toward the pitch black around the trench, as if light itself refused to touch those depths. The pressure rose again. Not suddenly—slowly, surely, cruelly.
"Pilot," the Council's voice came again. "Your time is almost up."
Tomy took a long breath.
If he chose wrong, Papua was the price.
"AI," he said. "Protocol consequences."
A brief pause.
"The Black Garuda Protocol will release all system limiters," the AI replied. "Weapon structure, energy, and pilot control will be fully synchronized."
"Risks?"
"Permanent damage to the unit… and probable fatality for the pilot."
Tomy gave a thin smirk.
"So it really is the last resort."
The trench before them trembled more violently. Its water rose upward, forming a huge dome that didn't collapse. From within, a giant silhouette began to appear—not whole, but enough to make one's stomach churn.
The creatures on the surface retreated further. They were no longer guarding the trench.
They were worshipping.
"Partial visual contact!" a sonar analyst yelled. "Size off the scale! This—"
The voice cut off.
All sonar screens died simultaneously.
Garuda Inferno's cockpit shuddered. The lights went out for a fraction of a second, then came back—all red.
Tomy didn't wait any longer.
"Black Garuda Protocol," he said firmly.
"Activate."
Silence.
Then—
A CLICK.
Something inside Garuda Inferno changed.
Not an explosion sound. Not a rough surge.
More like… a long exhale from a machine finally released from its chains.
Steel panels on the unit's back opened. Deep crimson lines appeared on Garuda's body, tracing the Papuan motif that once was merely a unit marking. Now, that motif glowed—it was not decoration.
The system spoke again.
But not with a flat voice.
"Pilot synchronization… 92%."
"Limiters released."
"Black Garuda mode active."
Tomy felt his head grow heavy. Data flowed in too fast. Sea pressure, terrain structure, the movement patterns of the creatures—everything entered his mind directly. Not through screens.
Through instinct.
"Tomy!" the commander's panicked voice. "Your vitals—"
"Still alive," Tomy cut in. His voice was lower now. Calmer. "And I can feel them."
Garuda Inferno took a step forward.
One step—the water parted cleanly, no splashing.
The pressure around the unit dropped, as if the sea itself made way.
The creatures on the surface reacted. Their blue lights flickered on again, chaotically.
Their formation scattered. Not out of fear—
but because of a new threat.
From the trench, that eye opened fully.
Large. Deep. Not a hunter's eye—the eye of something accustomed to being feared.
The vibration of its sound rose to the surface. This time, it wasn't just felt.
Every radio captured it.
Not language.
Not sound.
More like… intent.
Tomy stood inside the Black Garuda, staring back into the depths.
"You woke up," he murmured.
"Now it's my turn to answer."
Garuda Inferno raised its arm. The weapon, once limited, now opened fully. The energy around it vibrated, not heat—pure pressure.
In the command center, someone whispered softly, almost inaudibly.
"This is no longer coastal defense…"
Tomy pressed the control.
"This is a declaration."
And for the first time since humanity descended to the sea—
something in the trench
felt
challenged.