Incorporeum: Between Science and Sorcery (Third Clarke Rewrite)

by Roasted Rowel

A hundred centuries had passed since the Twilight of Man, their legacy carried by their bio-engineered descendents who soon conquered the stars and mastered the art of sorcery. When an irresponsible goddess opened a portal into a dimension where the line between magic and technology blurred, she would face the consequence of her blunder.

6. Chapter Five: The Great Massacre

A/N: The presence of magic in original Gate is rather lacking, so I made a tweak to Falmart's nature of magic.

Reviews

Lord of Seven: I just want to say that I really like your story, the previous one is probably my most top 3 favourite. I can't really say for certain how this one will turn out to be but I actually like that you make the psychic foxgirl to have a proper background because I'm not sure what's her exact origin before (maybe I missed it, idk).

A: Thanks! Yeah, in the previous version Emily didn't really have a proper history and background, I make sure to change that in this one.

Guest: I really your fic. The grammar is partially lacking, however the Idea and writing are fantastic.

A: Noted. Yeah, grammar isn't my forte but I like to think I've improved - if not much then maybe a bit and I will continue to improve as time goes. That aside, the idea of this setting itself is actually one that I've had quite a while, its an incorporation of several previously established sci-fi admittedly (mainly 40k) but it had kinda grown into its own thing, thus I decided to write this.

Grub: I love the way you started with Hardy. It's unique and fun. I hope do more of the god things with the other one.

A: Thank you, I don't find many Gate fic tell stories from the perspective of Falmart's gods (although there are plenty already by now) so I incorporate that little snippet in my story.

TankLover: Eh I would argue that the Allience seems like more the Tau than anything. Kind of. Thet said, if robots infantry exist why would they use actual soldiers? Why not just send the robots?

A: Huh, I can see why. But aside from few similarities, I think the Alliance is more closely resembling to the Federation than Tau. Then again, my knowledge of the commie gundam faction is lacking. For your second question, though not yet explained, the robots can only do so much without organic intervention - they're intelligent, yes, but not sentient - incapable of making their own decisions. A crucial component for a soldier, especially dealing with not only your enemies but noncombatants as well. That, also factored with other cultural and social reasons that I will address in future chapters.

Alberto: Excelente me pregunto que valor para luchar contra una civilizacion minimo tipo 3 como la que presentas, por un momento pense que habia abandonado el fanfiction, saludos desde mexico y esperando por mas capitulos (Excellent I wonder what courage to fight against a minimum type 3 civilization like the one you present, for a moment I thought I had abandoned the fanfiction, greetings from Mexico and waiting for more chapters).

A: First of all, you have my gratitude - and secondly, I'm really sorry that Google Translate butchered what you're trying to say, but I think (at least I hope so) I get the gist of what you're trying to say. And no, I have not yet abandon this fic, rest assured :).

---

Chapter Five: The Great Massacre

Imperial Senate, Sadera, Falmart

The grand structure of the Senate building was created five centuries ago and had remained to be the largest structure in Sadera. It was a testimony of the Imperial power, a declaration of its wealth and might unrivalled by any in Falmart.

The building had a large encompassing dome above, with its circular shape supported by imposing columns, each ornately carved. Within the interior itself was the central chamber of the senate hall, a row of circular seats with one large throne positioned at the north side, where the emperor sat.

Molt Sol Augustus, compared to the emperors before him, was a rather mediocre ruler. His only notable achievement was the banishment of the northern barbarians, their centuries long irritance had been dealt quickly under his command, albeit a result of many major work of previous emperors rather than his own. When the Gate first manifested, it elated the aged man.

It was finally an opportunity to mark his name within history, to be remembered as the man who conquered two worlds at the same time. When he declared his idea to the Senate, they shared his enthusiasm, words were quick to spread. Like wildfires, the spreading news had him unanimous support of the entire aristocrats as well as the imperial senate.

Molt expected for the victors to return with their heads held high, pride blossomed in their chest along with slaves as trophies. However, while the slaves did arrive, the same couldn't be said for the imperial soldiers. What was once several legionnaires worth of army, now returned with only a few hundred broken men.

When the news reached his ears, Molt was stunned. A meeting was immediately made and the entire senate was summoned. The one who stood before them all, his greying hair pulled to the back, his face had wrinkled, revealing his advanced age. He was the Senator Archmage Godasen, the only sorcerer who bore the title of a senate.

The emperor had heard a snippet of their outlandish tales. Demi-humans and magic, golems and monstrosity. Molt would've dismissed the stories if it weren't for the fact that it was backed by many. Of course, he wouldn't put past the soldiers to lie, but the emperor acknowledged that there must be a partial truth hidden beneath those wild claims.

"Your Majesty, over two hundred thousand of our men lost. Some are reported to have fled from their stations while most are declared missing, what is your answer to this?" Marquis Casel El Tiberius, the head and representative of the senate itself. Attired in a regal white robe draped with large purplish, brown scarf over his shoulder. On his wrinkled head, he adorned a silvery tiara with a small gem on it.

"How can this be? I thought our men were one of the best trained soldiers?" A senator voiced his discontent.

"Obviously whoever their trainers are need to be put into question. How can we let cowards like that be the face of imperial might?"

"Perhaps we should reconsider against recruiting commoners?"

Molt let out a subdued cough, one that carried enough authority to silence the hall. He let the chatter quieten, there was a pregnant silence as all voices were absent. The emperor shifted from his throne, straightened himself. "Gentlemen, this is not the first that Sadera had faced hardship. In the past the Empire had suffered a fate much worse and risen to triumphant. Before we make our decision, let Godasen speak first."

The senator mage was quaking, his breath laboured. The old man paused for a moment, hesitation crossed his face.

Molt raised a brow, "Godasen?"

"A- apologies My Lord, I need to gather my thoughts," Godasen sighed. "The first to step out of that Gate was an apostle and a wind shaman."

"An apostle?" One of them murmured.

"Have we angered a god?" Another chimed in.

Godasen shivered, recalling the scene in his mind. He shook his head before continuing. "Then it was followed that night by a legion of armoured men coming out of the Gate, I- I have never had the chance to see what it was but I assume the imperial forces are defeated."

"Did you run away!?" A senator exclaimed accusingly.

Godasen scowled, slammed his fist. "No I did not! I- I was just given an order by Mudra to come here as quickly to deliver the message." He lied through his tongue.

Before anymore could be said, Molt voiced his opinion. "I understand. However, are you certain it is an apostle?"

"His wound healed when we attacked him and he possesses incredible strength. There is no doubt that he is a demi-god." Godasen uttered.

"You said there was a shaman? Couldn't it be possible if it was that witch who healed him?" A senator grumbled. "You jumped to conclusions too quickly, Senator Godasen."

The senator mage, insulted, heatedly responded. "I am a sorcerer, Marcellus. I know what a mage can and cannot do."

"Sounds to me like you are making excuses," the other senator replied with a scoff.

"Senator Marcellus, that is enough. Godasen is a prestigious archmage, he knows more magic than any of all of us here," the emperor lifted his hand. "That being said, it is unfortunate that you lacked the knowledge regarding our new enemy. I would like to hear direct confirmation from someone like you rather than the maddened yap of our soldiers."

Godasen blinked before he bowed. "My apologies Your Majesty, but it was... an order given by your own personal guard."

"Speaking of my loyal guard, Mudra hasn't returned yet has he?" Molt frowned. He had sent his royal guard as a means to set his foothold on another world without physically being there. The guards were figuratively, his sword and his shield, they were metaphorically his own extension. To have his personal guard arrived in a land beyond his own would be a symbol of the emperor's own achievement.

"It is a week's journey, Your Majesty. Perhaps he is still on his path here," Godasen offered, gritting his teeth as he said that.

"We should send more army and overwhelmed that so-called shaman," a senator chimed in.

Another scoffed, "have you not heard the rumours? Apparently our soldiers are forced to face an army of golems!"

"Golems? Like those stone golems?"

"Preposterous, I may not be a mage but even I know the difficulty of creating one."

"Perhaps the soldiers have mistaken our enemies?"

As the conversation grew, Molt was once again forced to silenced the hall. He gave the mage a slight tilt of his head, beckoning him to resume. Godasen regathered his thoughts before he commented.

"Honestly, I do not know the truth behind those hearsay but if our enemy is a shaman then it can be easily gauged that perhaps they have experienced a form of hallucinations."

His explanation immediately satisfied the entire senate, the discussion grew quieter as a conclusion was finally reached. Molt sighed beneath his stoic mask, for a moment a tinge of concern rose in him but if their enemies were merely a very talented shaman then perhaps he could reconsider his initial plan.

"Thank you Godasen. Marquis Casel do you have an opinion of this matter?" The emperor turned his attention to the head of senate.

The marquis pulled his oversized scarf, adjusting it on his shoulder before he inserted. "Obviously our enemy is not to be trifled with. The fact that our expeditionary force has been pushed back is a testament of their strength, we should be cautious. Whether this be a trick or not it is undeniable that they possess the skill to pose a threat to us."

"Bah! What is a bunch of barbarians going to do against us? They defeated a portion of our forces, so what? We have more than one and a half million and not to mention that the expeditionary force has probably weakened them by now. This is a time to strike!" The previous senator, Marcellus, exclaimed boisterously.

Casel frowned, he irritatedly addressed the man. "Be that may be, but it still doesn't change the fact that we have lost enough men to make a dent to our forces. I don't want another repeat of the bunny tribe incident."

Molt flinched at that remark, vivid memories of it still irritated him. Zolzal, the crowned prince and his first son, a pompous brat he has the misfortune of raising, had declared war upon the entire bunny tribe. The exact nature of the declaration was under the pretense to 'quell threat to the Empire' when in truth it only served to stroke that man's ego. The emperor recalled how he had lost hundreds of thousands of men in order to claim a land that brought them no benefits whatsoever.

If it weren't for the fact that the bunny warrior slaves proved to be useful, Zolzal would've received severe punishment for his reckless action.

"Then what do you propose, we wait for our enemy to infest Alnus?" Marcellus argued.

"We will send the Allied Kingdom, with their combined strength, we can push back our enemy without wasting our men whilst also strengthening our relationship with the vassal states," the emperor declared. His words reverberated through the hall, all eyes were directed towards him. "The neighboring kingdoms had been insistent to get their hands on the Gate correct? Why not give them the chance?"

"That... is a brilliant idea, Your Greatness. You are truly graced with wisdom," Marcellus exclaimed. His praise was repeated amongst the senate, all of them complimenting the emperor.

If the situation was different, Marquis Casel would've found himself questioning his emperor. The news of the soldier's defeat was a stunning revelation, however due to their lack of information, Casel found himself smiling. "That is an excellent decision, My Lord. Though I should address that to bring so many of them would be a massacre."

Molt grinned, "indeed it will be."

---

Gate, Alnus Hill, Falmart

After the battle, or rather, one-sided massacre, the Odyssey Detachment quickly established their base and erected several essential structures. Various fabrimacon (fabricator material construction) droids pooled out of the Gate and began the process of materialising basic infrastructure from thin air, using composite construct as a base material.

A crude pyramidal structure was made to encompass the Gate, with only the skeleton frame still under construction. It was a means to contain and stabilise the warp-bridge even further and observe its internal dimensional structure.

The bodies that littered the ground were disposed of, most of them were incinerated on the spot, their numbers too high to be moved. The sight of heavily armoured Incinerator exosuit equipped with the infamous Scorcher was an intimidating sight, especially with a weapon designed to harness the incorporeal essence of soulflame. An esoteric ethereal energy, sharing many similarities with wraith-lightning albeit being a flame instead of electricity.

Amongst the captives they've managed to rescue, about a half of which weren't native to the Alliance's citizens, another issue that needed to be dealt with. As it currently stands, the liberated slaves were gathered in the temporary rehabilitation center where their wounds were mended by the bio-magus and the medicon droids, whilst their mental health were handled by mending espers.

It was abhorrent how they were treated, a mystery still eluded the Enforcers to the reason of their treatment. Some of which were unnecessarily cruel to the point of impracticality.

Within the main command base, currently just multiple containment chambers slapped together and welded by fabrication lasers. Lucas, along with six other commanders sat, or in the apostle's case, stood within a war room.

The six Enforcers, assigned to each of them the rank of Orb Tertiary General. They command the entirety of the division force, acting as the overseer and operator of an operation. They mostly performed individually, but were capable of operating as a team.

"So, Lord Bright. What is your opinion?" One of them, a creamed haired usagimimi, addressed. He, like the other five, sat around an arched levi-table.

Lucas breathed out, the medicon droids had removed all the bloodstains on his body but the memories of his stench still pervade his mind. For a brief moment, his eyes darted to his hip, where his Vestige dangled affixed. He had hoped to someday remove the soul absorbing properties of its curse. For the last decades his psyche was in question as myriads of foreign recollection occasionally intrude his thoughts and his dreams.

"This world, like we all have expected, is primitive. Not just with their technology and magic but as well as their culture. While I don't like to condemn traditions and societal standards of others, we have to address that the way they operate things is... less than pleasant. I've lived for two and a half centuries, and trust me when I say that these people will not be easy to negotiate." Lucas voiced.

"Well, I've lived longer and I can attest to His Holiness' statement," an elf chimed in. "The espers had done plenty of mind scan to know enough the kind of shit these guys have done. Some of them can be considered a direct breach to the Centaurus Convention."

"How many of our citizens have we managed to find?" Lucas questioned.

"Not enough. There have been about two thousand Terran citizens along with a few of Alliance's outer tourists missing after the Clover Incident."

"How many did we retrieve from that skirmish?" Lucas closed his eyes, bracing himself for the answer.

The elf sighed, a weary look surfaced on his face. "Only fifteen."

"You're right, that's not enough. What about the other... captives we've got?" The apostle pressed.

The six orb generals glanced at one another before the elf spoke again. "They're apparently natives of this continent, all from different regions of the land - most of them claimed to come from far north. They're all wary of us and the bio-magus is having difficulty healing their injuries."

"Can't blame 'em," a lamia amongst the six grumbled. "I've read the reports, some of their wounds are really nasty. I doubt any of them could properly have a child, at least, not without a cellular reconstruction."

The general didn't have to say it aloud to relay the implications. Lucas found it to be most disturbing yet unsurprising. He had seen what some of the horrid imperials had done during the Tragedy of Clover, a few of which he had to witness unspeakable degeneracy. Suffice to say, he had made their death unpleasant.

"So what do you plan to do with them? Integrating them into Terra is going to be nigh impossible, at least not for a short period of time - a timespan we will likely focus ourselves in dealing with the so-called Empire," Lucas remarked.

"For now, the rehabilitation center will be our only option. Those ladies have suffered enough, we will try and request more fabrimacon droids from Yhergman Robotic Institute. They have over 30 million unused droids since the '9990 AH, maybe we can finally put them to use." Vando, the only general that Lucas had the pleasure of encountering before, said.

Yhergman, once a proud nation of the Predecessor, its ancient name long forgotten in history. It was located near the top west of Terra, alongside the nation of Netheria, Polanum and the Czechia Crater. Lucas had never personally been there, but from what he heard and seen, its appearance was no different than those of New Yox, save for a few unique structures.

"Good. Now, about the neighboring settlement..." Lucas exclaimed, pointing out a key importance they all have yet to address since their arrival from the Gate.

"Drones had detected about twenty five different settlements. The nearest being about eight miles from our positions. They are rural areas, wooden and stone structures. We have yet to determine their daily lifestyle or their cultural activities so expect some resistance if we plan on a reconnaissance mission." Vando provided.

"How about the soldiers that deserted the skirmish, where are they now?" Lucas inquired, he couldn't rest easy knowing that their enemies were still out there, most likely plotting for revenge.

"They're... not much of a threat to be honest," a reptilus tertiary general inserted. Her tail, replaced with a sleek metallic prosthetic. "While I am aware that underestimating our foes is against the Codex, from what little our drones could gather, they are fragmented and disorganised. Of course, being that they are scattered, it is quite difficult to keep track of their activities."

"Forget about them, our new data had shown a worrying activity about a couple of dozen miles from out south." The usagimimi mentioned, pulling up the holographic projection. It was a small image of an army, their distance too great for the drone to properly capture with its techvoyance system but it was clear what it actually was.

"Well shit," Vando spoke first.

"Military gathering?" Lucas murmured before his eyes squinted. "They're not wearing the same armour, and as far as I'm concerned those Saderan like to plaster their dragon symbol on everything they have don't they?"

Vando took control of the hologram, forcing the AI to recalibrate and restructure the tridimensional image as he enlarged it. It was indeed true, multiple regiments of mismatched knights each clad in different types of armour. "Maybe Sadera has different military divisions?"

Such a militant structure was normal for the Enforcer and, surprisingly, the Sovereign's military organisation, Primi Exercitus. Other than the void-based Reaper Division or the psychic warriors, Proeliator Cognition. There were few others as well.

For Sadera, a rather primitive civilisation, wouldn't benefit much from a wildly deviating military sect. How many swords, spears, mace, shields, arrows, armours and such from a non-industrialised craftsmanship could truly differ from one another?

"No, it is highly likely that they are from different factions entirely." The usagimimi replied. He manipulated the holographic projection, appraising their insignia. "However, it is bizarre that they are all seemingly working together. Did we stumbled upon a peace treaty of some sort? A skirmish? Maybe even just a celebratory gathering of some sort."

"Celebratory gathering? In the middle of nowhere?" A gorgon, Fae with snake-like hairs, spoke.

Vando grunted, chuckling slightly beneath his irritance. "You haven't heard of Toku Mun Toro have you? It is a tradition from my heritage planet that died millennia ago. At that time, many separate kingdoms and tribes would gather with their army and have a feast."

"Still, we cannot know for sure why they're there." The elf muttered. "Have the drones keep an eye on them, for now though let's focus on something more important..."

Lucas perked his ears, and his brow. He had been through enough military meetings that this will be a conversation entirely upon logistics and status reports, one he had no desire partaking in. Thus, with a polite incline of his head, the apostle left.

The outside of the commanding post was occupied with the sight of fabrimacon droids zooming past and conjuring material from their mecha-ligament, tiny, almost needle-like instruments from the tip of their mechanical limbs. Plasteel, one of the more basic materials existing within the Alliance, were used as the foundation and skeletal frame of most the structures. It was a metal-polymer alloy, an alchemic mix between enchanted steel and stratumite polymer. Robust, durable, long-lasting albeit one the more difficult material to inscribe with enchantment.

Lucas sighed, taking a slow pace as he narrowly avoided the bulky presence of the fabrimacon machines. Their bright, yellow colour, along with stripes of white and black. Most of them were cubical in shape, defying gravity with their internal anti-grav generator. Their bodies sprouted with multiple mechanical limbs, each responsible for construction.

The apostle hastily made his way into one of the many buildings recently built, stepping his foot inside a creamy white, rectangular structure. He ignored the holographic sign above the building, the symbol of a double helix with a red droplet at the centre, the Emblem of Healing, used universally amongst the galactic space, even beyond the Alliance's space.

Lucas shuddered when all eyes directed at him, a slight unease rose within him. For many, meeting an apostle was a mythical experience - there was only so much Pantheons existed for the trillions of fae across the galaxy to see them with their own eyes. The look of reverence was shared amongst the medical personnel, some even deliberately bowing under his presence - a side effect of being an active role as the guardian.

Amidst the bio-magus, their iatrician assistants and medicon machines, there were mending espers amongst them as well. Long gone were titles of doctors and nurses, in replacement of carnomancy and herbomancy adept sorcerers who dealt with medical related practice. The bio-magus, once referred to as 'healers' or 'shamans' during the olden days, considered by many to be enigmatic and mysterious millennia ago - they were now nothing more than professional physicians and licensed medics.

Lucas gently pushed his way through the crowd, though it was not much of a trouble for him when half of them created wide berths from him. Eventually, the apostle made his way into the care unit hall, where all the former slaves were kept on their bed. Some were unconscious, but most were wide and awake, either eating or occupying their time staring at everything around them.

His presence had gained the attention of all those within, a look of shock present amongst them. Some in fear, others in the same reverence he was so used to by now. Lucas scanned the room, eyeing the medicon robots, each of them differs from one another, multitudes of model variants of specific purposes.

Lucas' gaze landed on one, a kitsune conversing amongst twelve other espers. Unlike esper warriors, the psi-knights, who were clad in nano-weaved robe over a light body armour and a pair of silvery gauntlet over their arms, these were the mending espers. They were clad in a simpler white lab coat with an inner white robe and the Emblem of Healing upon their chest.

"Emily," Lucas announced his arrival, the other espers drifting their gaze with widened eyes before they bowed and left. The apostle glanced as they tended to their patients. "A busy day huh?"

The Alpha-Telepath sighed, Emily Pluton let her gaze wander the interior with solemnity. "Many of them are traumatised and are very afraid. It doesn't help either that amongst them are militant conscripts forced to war."

Lucas vividly was reminded by some of the Fae he was forced to fight during Clover. They didn't seem too eager to battle back then, which explains a lot now.

"Look. There's an approaching army coming from the south, a mismatch of multiple different factions it seems like," Lucas informed.

"Well ain't that dandy," Emily groaned, a flicker of psychic tendrils subtly displaying her annoyance, one that only Lucas was keen enough to detect.

"We still don't know if they're hostiles or not, but the High Command is taking a preemptive measure in case of the worst."

Lucas led Emily outside of the building, unto the recently paved roads. There wasn't much that was done other than remodeling the terrain itself, using a combination of terramancy, hydromancy and rune inscribed machines to mold the very ground. Few psion-tanks rolled nearby, gathered and positioned themselves in their place, their systems being monitored by the serfdrones.

"How many are there?" Emily inquired.

Lucas shrugged, "didn't count, but I'm sure it's being discussed by the generals."

Emily nodded, she wasn't particularly thrilled to be engaging another battle just after one. While it was obvious that the natives were relatively of no threat, at least for now, the 'clean up' she and her espers had to do later would be tremendous. The kitsune was grateful that almost all of their weapons possessed some form of infinite ammunition, a techno-sorcery that greatly reduced the amount of resources needed.

"How about the missing people, do we find them yet?" Emily questioned, a tinge of worry surfaced.

"No sadly. I suppose that is up to you and your folks to handle, we managed to capture the enemy commander. Although, forewarned that he's a tough nut to crack," Lucas exclaimed.

"Enemy commander...? Why am I not made aware of this?" Emily quirked her brow, a slight glimmer of force swirled around her. Lucas frowned as he felt the subtle psionic pressure.

"Relax, I know you want to carve their face as much as I do but that guy is barely a functioning person anymore. The bio-magus is doing their best to stabilise him," Lucas muttered.

Emily was not amused, crossing her arm as she continued. "Stabilising? Where is he? I can extract info out of him."

"Not now," the neko pressed. He could sense the growing impatience in the esper's mind, her thirst for knowledge, a mild rage towards the savage barbarians. Lucas could understand, the same wrath was within him too and for an esper, one who was trained in the art of the mind, must've felt that a dozen times more. "His mind is an incomprehensible mess, anymore of your intrusion is going to break his psyche."

The kitsune clicked her tongue, prompted to avert her gaze elsewhere instead. Their short stroll had brought them both to the edge of the hill, where it reveals the greenish expansive of the land. It was a beautiful sight, almost similar to the Garden World of Mars.

Amidst the grassy plain, a few lone Ursa and Anguis roamed the land, either scanning the area or taking local samples. Emily's previously frowning gaze softened, there was always something so calming in the face of mother nature.

"It's beautiful," Emily murmured, forgetting the proper conversation. In lieu, taking in the scene before her. The planet she had taken residence, Crystite, was a visually alluring world, with crystalline structures and bioluminescent trees roamed the entire surface of the planet but it was nothing compared to the green plain before her. She had never seen so much greenery in her life, not even in the Martian's Planitia Sanctuary.

Lucas blinked, his gaze followed her's, roaming the empty land. It was indeed stunning. From the millions of throng worlds, ecumenopolis, fortresses and swarm cities he had been, the galaxy lacked a planet that was authentically natural.

"It is," Lucas murmured. "It's like Old Terra."

"20,000 AH?" Emily turned to face her demi-god friend. The neko shook his head with a smile.

"No, older than that. Before the Awakening, before Us." Lucas said. "I've told you before that my creator had accessed a Predecessor broken stellar ray station right?"

Emily was aware of the story. Predecessor technology of any kind was a galactic treasure, one that some were willing to sacrifice a planet's worth of resources if it meant getting their hands on one. The Alliance's modern FTL drive was salvaged from a buried Predecessor's skeleton ship in Terra and despite its vast inferiority compared to the salvaged ship, their FTL tech has been one of most stable and farthest star jump of any warp drive ever existed.

"Huh, y'know that could be considered classified information," Emily started with a slight curve on her lips. Any and all forms of information regarding their Ancestral Convergence were very few and most often than not were garbled. The only tangible remains of a Predecessor body was reported to be within the hands of the Sovereign, where they kept in the terrestrial planet of Volhos and preserved for all of eternity.

Lucas and Emily had both personally seen the cadaver during the Death War, one of the few rarer times where they actually fought against the Proto-Enforcer instead of with them, protecting the native from bloodthirsty war lords.

The body, if it could be called that, was left with only a skeletal frame, one made of unknown astral material and a few trace elements of godstone, a metal substance commonly used by the Pantheons. The right forearm, lower spine and the entirety of its left leg absent, instead replaced with a replica model. It was a truly mesmerising sight, for even in their death, the micromachines that inhabited the corpse were still active yet lay dormant, probably non-operational once its central nerve command was destroyed.

Lucas had learnt much about the demise of the Predecessor but not how it came to be and what had caused it. The great station-catacomb, its alien, sleek design was a mark of Predecessor forgotten technology. It was probably larger than what was left recently, now the station had been attached and modified with comparatively cruder modern Fae installment. It was a place of his birth, created by the tech-hunters organisation that was also responsible for Emily's psychic experimentation - a story for another time.

A drone flew overhead, judging from its simple spherical shape with a large ocular device on its body, it was a recon-drone recently returned from its scouting mission. The presence of the drone was enough to distract Lucas from the conversation, his eyes squinted at it.

"That's the drone sent to investigate the southern activity, what the hell is it doing here?" Lucas muttered. It was indeed the same drone tasked to observe the advancing military force from the south, the apostle was left to ponder the reason for its return. Not long after, three more were sent from whence it came from, each of them were differently designed.

"Orbital drones?" Emily being more adept to the advancing technologies of mortals recognised its construct.

Lucas turned, "orbital drones? A bit overkill for simple reconnaissance isn't it?"

---

Several Miles Away, Falmart

The marching footsteps of the Allied Kingdom quaked the very ground, their varied armours left to display their combined might, under the order of Sadera. What was once multitudes of independent kingdoms now serve under the Imperial banner. The Twenty Two Vassal Coalition each had gathered today to perform their duty as allies.

The Lion State of Elbe, the Iron Hearted Alguna, the Mountain Dwellers of League Principality, the Magi Nation of Mudwan and seventeen other, lesser known kingdoms. They all had banded together in the name of unity and conquest. The news of the Gate was a subject of interest for many in Falmart, thus it was easily understandable why many of them were quick to take arms for the imperial request.

They were 300,000 men strong, each kingdom contributed differently. Elbe brought their mightiest of foot soldiers, the League Principality brought their cavalries, the Mudwan their mages and many others their own forces. Alguna, one that possessed great numbers of wyverns amongst their rank, were the most respected.

The message was received four days prior and they had gathered today, in the Mortal Plains. Their army was vast, only second to the Empire itself. They marched for three days, taking rest at nightly intervals.

Within the largest commanding camp, where the leaders of each kingdom gathered, they sat and discussed their next course of action, almost leisurely. Amongst the wooden carved tables and stool, a large drawn map was placed at the table, one that was created by a talented craftsman from Mudwan.

"The Gate is said to be overrun with barbarians from the other side, apparently they were able to push back the imperial forces but had been reported to suffer heavy loss themselves. Now that they are weakened, the Empire has given us the chance to strike," the King of Alguna informed.

"Strange, how powerful are these savages if they were able to push back imperial expeditionary force?" The Mudwan king inquired, a question that was shared amongst the leaders.

The King of Elbe sighed, his eyes roamed the map. "I suggest that we take the situation with caution. If they are as capable as the savage of the bunny tribes then we shall prepare the resistance. Weakened as they may be, I am not one to underestimate those who can make the Imperial falters."

"Though this is but a rumour, I heard that the imperials encountered some sort of a shaman. One that is powerful enough to rival an archmage," the Mudwan king worriedly exclaimed.

His concern however was not shared, as proven when the Algunian King merely smirked. "Are you certain those stories are not told by petty commoners?"

"Perhaps," the Mudwan king admitted. "But I cannot think of anything else for the imperial's defeat."

"I can think of a few," the Duke of League uttered. His kingdom, after all, had dealt with rebel incursions from those who refused the Imperial power. Though their army was pitiful and their soldiers were few, he had faced their tactics and unorthodox warfare. "One does not need magic to be strong. The imperial forces were defeated on the other side of the Gate, correct? Then maybe those barbarians simply used their landscape to their advantage."

"And now that we know that they are weakened, those savages are barely a threat," the King of Alguna cackled. "We will march from south, my men will take the sky while the League Principality will be flanking our right and our left-"

"I will volunteer my army to be the vanguard," the Mudwan king uttered. "The rest of you can decide whatever you want."

"Now, don't be hasty my dear friend. The Lion of Elbe hasn't decided yet has he?" The Algunian King gestured his hand to a crimson armoured man whose left eye had been covered with a patch.

The bearded man grunted, scanning the map. "I feel uneasy."

"How so?" The Duke of League Principality inquired.

"If they are truly barbarians as Sadera describes them, what use is manpower of this size?" The King of Elbe, Duran, remarked. "Three hundred thousand men. Fifty thousands of which were wyvern legionnaires and over a hundred thousand cavalry the Allied Army could muster. Why all this for a mere savage?"

"They may be savages, but even barbarians pose a threat don't you think? Any nation capable of pushing an imperial force is worthy of attention," the Algunian King exclaimed.

"Are you praising them?" The Mudwan King arched his brow, crossing his arms.

The other monarch simply chuckled, his booming voice carried outside the tent. "If there is one thing I learn is to always respect the strong. They may be uncultured barbarians, but even they must have something to offer no? The bunny warrior slave trade with Sadera has proven to be fruitful, I wonder what the otherworlders might bring us."

"I sure hope we can find an iron deposit there," mumbled the Duke of League Principality. "Or maybe strong slaves too, I've lost so many trying to build my giant statue."

"Enough with petty talk. We will march at dawn tomorrow, I will lead my men into the battlefield while some of you wait here," the King of Alguna exclaimed, pounding his chest with pride.

"No, I will be the first to charge forward. My blade hasn't touched blood since a decade and my arms are aching," the League Principality aristocrat responded.

"Tsk, have you forgotten that I commanded the mages. I should be the first one in front," Mudwan King argued.

A resounding laughter escaped the Algunian King. "I admire your spirits my friends. We shall ride to Alnus and plow through those barbarians. Those whose blade is the reddest shall receive my finest wine!"

---

Alnus Hill, Falmart

Persia felt... oddly warm, it was not a real sensation, she realised, more akin to an intangible feeling. A soft wave that slowly washed over her person, a deep resonation like the soft chime of a bell. There was a strange probing sensation that ran deep in her spine, a relaxing aura that seeps into her muscles and her bones.

Then, she opened her eyes. The first thing that greeted her was the harsh, blinding light. The catgirl let out a voice, or at least, she tried to. There was a hoarse croak from her throat, followed with a light cough.

Slowly, she adjusted herself, examine her surroundings. There were no longer crowded demi-humans, no sight of filth or the flimsy drape of their tent. The catgirl blinked, her eyes roamed the interior, slowly gaining some insight of the place.

The wall was pristine white, a soft creamy hue with a texture of an unknown solid carapace. It was neither stone nor metal, a strange and smooth surface, much like an eggshell.

Persia then realised, she was asleep on a rather comfortable bed. The soft, plump surface of the drape was unlike anything she ever felt. Her eyes darted to her own, the filth and grime were absent, and her previous rag replaced with a light green dress that felt pleasant to her skin.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice intruded. Persia nearly jumped, her eyes hastily glanced at the voice. She was a catfolk, like her. The woman's hair was darker, with the tip of her ears ending in a soft white patch. She was clad in a strange garb, a white coat over a black shirt with a grey skirt. On her right side of her chest, there was an emblem of a spiral of some sort and a red teardrop shaped symbol.

Persia pulled the drape to herself, carefully keeping her ears flattened. "Wh- who are you? Where am I?"

The woman walked to her side, where she realised there was a desk with a cup. She grabbed the cup and placed a strange powder inside before it magically transformed into liquid, much to Persia's surprise. The lady smiled gently, taking a light sip before she answered. "You're safe. You are in a medical centre, or your people would call it an apothecary hut."

"A- apothecary?" Persia murmured, her gaze dropped down to her hand, realising that all the scars and wound were healed, with no trace of it left. "What happened?"

"We saved you. The Enforcers, our warriors, found you all within imperial tents," the woman explained.

"Ein-force-ur...?" Persia tried to utter, her mind still hazy. There was a flicker, only a brief glimmer that latched in her memory.

"You should probably rest, our healer has to use your body's vitas - I mean, mana, to heal some of those scars. It will probably take a while before you can recover," said the woman.

Persia groaned, trying to push herself off the pleasant bed. Her feet touched upon a cold, smooth floor. "Where am I?" She asked once more, her heartbeat slowly elevated.

"Alnus Hill."

Her mind then clicked, memories began to pour into her consciousness. Persia's eyes widened in realisation.

---

[24 Hours Ago]

When the first scream pierced her ears, Persia began to stir. Though the carnage obscured behind a layer of drape, she could see a flicker of light and chaos beyond their flimsy veil.

There was a scent of scorched flesh in the air, along with a rancid smell of urine. Persia shivered, the ground shook as the air screeched. She didn't know what was happening and neither did the other slaves as they huddled together, whimpering amongst themselves.

Persia was as equally afraid as she was curious. She saw a glimpse of imperial soldiers running in the opposite direction without their weapons, some were even bleeding. Clearly, there was something amiss. She recognised the growls of orcs, ogres, the loathsome grunts of the goblins and the deafening screech of a wyvern. Yet, amongst all those sounds she knew, there were some she didn't.

It had been hours since the ceaseless chants of an unfamiliar choir filled the air. A deep, resonating music sang from the throat of angels. Amidst those pleasant chimes however were accompanied with thunderous roar, screeching banshee and the loud wail of what sounds like tormented spirits of the underworld.

Then she felt a rumble, a light but pervasive quake that slowly made their way towards their camp. Persia could feel its ominous presence as a powerful, invisible force, gently sway the air. Seconds later, the thunderclap grew louder and the screams of terror grew nearer.

From behind the shadow of the tent, under the unlit darkness of the night, many within the camp could see a large silhouette outside. It was far larger than a wyvern, about the size of an infant dragon, if she were to guess.

Persia gathered with her kin, huddled in a group as they await for their fate.

There was a shadow of a figure, their bodies hidden underneath the darkness but for Persia, she could see them as clear as day. Their armours were intricate, every piece of its design made so meticulously made. Between each armoured plate, there lays slithering tendrils of iron sinews. Their face veiled behind an opaque black, reflective material. In their arms, they wield a strange metal rod.

Persia flinched under their gaze, a reaction shared amongst the slaves. Their inhuman features made ominous with their lack of voice, only the subtle motion of their body that betrayed their expressionless mask.

"••••?" A melodic choir emanated from one of the armoured figures.

In spite of their seemingly heavy armours, their footfalls were rather light. One of the armoured beings encroached the tent, their black glassen face peered into the interior, appraising its occupants. By now, many of the slaves quivered under the enigmatic presence of the entity. Were they human? Golem? Some sort of spiritual, armoured entities?

Their voices spoke of music, there was a pleasant tune whenever they spoke. It was as if their language were spoken from the tongue of chirping birds.

"•••-ello? Can you understand?" One of them suddenly uttered. Their accent was strange but not entirely unpleasant, there was a subtle tune in their voice. "Please respond if you understand."

Silence reigned the camp, all eyes were trained upon the stranger. He, or at least, Persia assumed them to be a male, had a tail extension on his armour, indicating that whatever hides within the thick carapace was not human. It put her at ease, if only slightly. The mysterious nature of their existence still unnerved her.

However, amidst the tense silence, a sudden bolt of flames struck the armoured men. An infernal wrath of the imperial sorcerer, as the lone battlemage took it upon himself to assault and overpowered the metallic newcomers. For a moment, Persia thought them perished, but that presumption quickly proven wrong when, amidst the torrent flames, their body moved.

She saw a flicker of light on their carapace, much akin to mage barrier, they wavered and shimmered under the intense fiery barrage.

"•••!" One of the armoured strangers spoke in their odd, melodic language. They raised the metal rods in their arms, pointed it towards the imperial mage much like a crossbow.

Moments that followed after was total carnage. Hail of blue streaks stormed upon the hapless sorcerer as he futilely erected a barrier, one that was easily broken after several dozen impacts of their strange thunder bolts. Blood drained from Persia as she saw a body literally torn to pieces before darkness clouded her overwhelmed mind.

---

"T- the golem warriors," Persia finally comprehended. "Wha-"

"You're safe now. Here, all Fae is treated as one of our own," smiled the healer catgirl as she gently pushed Persia to the bed.

The former slave did not know what 'fae' meant, but a strange compelling voice told her instinct that it meant 'demi-human'. Normally, doubts would fill her confused mind. However, clouded in exhaustion, the catgirl was not given the choice to process her situation as her body was still laden with fatigue.

"Who are you people?" Persia finally asked, she was unsure whether it was the strange sense of alleviation in her heart or the odd, muddy feeling in her mind but she felt no fear - or at least, not as much as she should.

The lady turned, her brilliant eyes directly bored into Persia's own, revealing the intricate geometric pattern of her iris. "We are the Legion of Armed Enforcer, protector and defender of the Harmonic Alliance." The woman smiled, her feline ears twitched. "Welcome to your new life."

---

Emily sat, crossed leg as she finally settled herself down. It was a tiring day, not only for herself but for the healers and espers that helped with the refugees. It would take years, if not, decades for them to be reintegrated to society.

Terra had expected situations such as this, thankfully, and had prepared several contingency in the case of immigrants and refugees that would soon perhaps encroach their base. After all, this military operation wouldn't be permanent and at some point, like many worlds under Alliance's reign, will be assimilated into their galactic coalition.

"Lady Pluton?" One of the Enforcers approached, saluting before her. Emily cast the man a simple nod before he continued. "The uhh... The High Command is summoning you and Lord Bright."

"It's been two hours since they last called us," Emily murmured. With a reluctant and weary sigh, she pushed herself, letting the flow of psionic energy slithered into her spine and released all the bodily tension within her muscles. "Where is the place?"

"The main command base - uhh, well our 'current' command base at least."

"What is it about this time?" Emily raised her hand as small objects began to levitate and rearrange itself.

"Well, I don't know... but I heard there's an army approaching here, I guess it's related?" Shrugged the soldier.

"I will get to it, give me a moment," sighed Emily. She had spent much of her powers to tend those in need and hadn't had the time for herself, the fatigue was beginning to claw its way into her. Fortunately, being one of the few Alpha-class espers, Emily was trained both mind and soul to regulate and circulate the psionic energy within her astral body most effectively - honing her mind to be as sharp as a knife, mentally fortified against the cognitive backlash of psychic powers.

Psionic, unlike magic, was focused more on willpower and concentration rather than imagination and creativity. Though both share the same source, that is the astral plane, neither manifests them in a similar manner. Magic harnesses the chaotic ocean of the Ether to conjure incorporeal concepts whilst psionic harness the power of the Immaterium and manifests them through the physical force of realspace. Akin to a river split into two, one the immaterial nature of sorcery, the other the tangible nature of psychic - both draw power from the same force but neither shared the same output.

Emily channels the primordial power of the Astral Plane, the Ether, the Immaterium - also known as the Sea of Chaos. A dimension of incomprehensible power, a literal realm of ceaseless storm that dwarfed the stars themselves. Every mind was connected to the Immaterium in some way, some greater, other lesser. Those who are attuned in its infinite potency could channel its power and manifest them through their thoughts, the complex structure of neurons that allows for the creation of magic.

Psychic, in its own right, was as equally supernatural as the mystic arts. Emily had learnt from her childhood captivity, when she was forced with inhumane experimentation, that psychic was an ethereal mutation, a genetic randomness within the spiritual body.

As the kitsune made her way to her destination, she felt the slight tug of several presence around her vicinity. If she was an untrained esper, her mind would break down to an incoherent mess - the unfiltered brainwaves infiltrating her consciousness would be too much for the mortal mind to bear. Emily had seen the effect of untaught conscience and how devastating it could be to themselves and those around them.

Amongst the thousands of dull presences, one stood out amongst the rest. His mind was a literal beacon amongst the infinite candles of mortal souls. Unlike the tainted presence of self absorbed demi-gods or the gnawing void of revenant daemons, his' was as pure as the brightest light - a walking, metaphorical sun, amongst dim embers.

Emily, like always, felt her heart skipped as her eyes finally landed on the subject of her attention. Though his flesh was made from the cold hands of machine, his soul was purer than any others she witnessed. Of course, he was not perfect - no one really is, but his imperfections made him whole, made him... Fae.

His hair were streaks of silver, some of which hang above his eyes. His ears, large and pointed, a light fur that traced to the tip of his feline lughole. His face, like any apostle, flawless and pristine, with curves on all the right places. Though it were his eyes that truly enraptured many, a pair of brilliant azure, like the sky of Terra.

"You're here too?" Lucas voiced, a light smirk emerged on his face. "Didn't expect to meet you again so soon."

"Aww, miss me already?" Emily teased, keeping pace with the apostle.

Lucas chuckled, hiding the slight flush on his cheek. His eyes trailed at multiple flying drones above him, heading to where the encroaching army was. "I guess the generals figured that they're not friendly huh?"

"Who knows, maybe they came here for a peace offering?" Emily asserted.

"Well, one way to find out."

---

Command Base, Alnus Hill

When Lucas set foot in the structure, he was greeted with the sight of several holo-projectors that occupied the majority of space in the room. The six Tertiary Generals were animated, their speech spoken in a frenzied blur as their hands motioned the holo-monitors.

The apostle steeled himself as he sauntered closer, followed by the alpha esper. The generals were not panicking, Lucas noted, merely driven by a sense of urgency. There were several serfdrones carrying physical copies of information, whirred across the room silently, its gravitic propulsion system keeping it afloat.

One of them, Vando Basalt, immediately took notice of their presence and turned his attention towards the legendary pair. "We have a problem."

"Are they hostile?" Lucas inquired.

"Yes," the usagimi amongst the six answered. "One of their wyverns arrived here, we half expected them to greet us but as we suspected, they immediately attacked our drones."

"Maybe they're just spooked? It's not like drones are a common sight around here," Emily said.

"That man launched himself towards the base just a few minutes ago. Our defense system quickly made a mincemeat out of him," Vando chimed in.

Lucas raised his brow, it still amazed him how silent and quick the auto-turrets could be, he didn't even notice there was a conflict minutes ago.

"We have alerted some of the active squads, but as of now, we don't know if they're truly hostile or it was just a misunderstanding. Of course, I doubt it is the latter but protocol is protocol unfortunately," Vando exclaimed. "There's over three hundred thousand in total but they've sent only ten thousand to our position. Right about now, it will take them two days to arrive here."

"Want us to have a talk with them?" Emily crossed her arms.

"No and yes, obviously we need someone to set a proper communication with them but we also don't want to accelerate this conflict any longer. The less blood the better," the usagimimi remarked.

"Frankly, I don't care if they're all dead... but if it can be helped, we just need someone to send them a message peacefully." Vando exclaimed, his sentiment shared amongst some of the other generals.

Lucas nodded, this was a task not unfamiliar with him. There had been several occasions in the past where he and Emily were sent as diplomats in war times, mostly a show of power more than anything.

"Anything I need to know before we leave?" Lucas inquired.

"Like I said, ten thousand marching men. Our drones had picked their forces about fifteen klick from our position, it seems that they're setting up a temporary resting camp. The Anguis could reach there in less than thirty minutes, we will send along a few flank drones just in case," Vando uttered.

"No need for the drones. We'll take any available hoverbike instead," Lucas stated.

"Just... a hoverbike?" One of the generals voiced, his concern mirrored with the other commanding officers.

"It's small, quiet and not as threatening. If we were to establish a proper communication with them, I don't think intimidation would be a great first impression."

"...very well, it's not like they would pose much of a problem anyway." The elven general uttered. "We will have a four Reaper squad ready to deploy if anything happens."

"All of the data has been uploaded to your device. Best of luck Guardian, Psyche," Vando uttered.

---

The warm breeze did little to quell his worries. Lucas stared beyond the horizon, the line between heaven and earth blurred in the distance. Amidst the green meadow, beyond the veil of thick forest, several Enforcer vehicles roamed the land for defense and research.

The clouds were light as always, only thin patches of creamy white rolled above the sky. The nekomata apostle grunted as he settled his vehicle, the Viper Venom 88. One of the more antiquated models of hoverbike that had ended its production a few decades prior.

He pulled the white fingerless gloves over his hands, its nano-weaved fibers slithered and morphed under the presence of skin, altering its shape to fit his appendage. Lucas flexed his fingers, holographic projection subtly emanated from the piece of cloth before they shimmered away. He smiled, remembered when the morph-fiber technology was still in its infancy and how far it had become.

His eyes flickered at the sight of a few trees being chopped, their biological components sent to be analysed and replicated for future reference. Lucas then turned at the sound of gentle footfalls behind him, the whispers of crunched leaves and cracked twigs along with the subtle flow of air.

Emily, clad in her battle-dress, her attire glimmered under the harsh sunlight. It was a fusion between a blouse and a combat armour. Even the soft, flowing threads that composed her frilly dress was made of mithril fibers.

Lucas himself was clad in his personally made battlesuit. It was entirely white, with a slight hue of dark grey in certain areas. Other than the armour plates on his shoulders, chest and sheen - the rest were entirely covered by the perpetually morphing reconstruction shift-textile. A complex composite material that, as its name implies, capable of mend itself when damaged.

"Did you smell that?" Lucas broke the silence, his body inclined against the hoverbike, the silent humms of its graviton was the only ambience in the empty field.

"Humid, rain water." Emily replied as she loaded a pack into the hoverbike.

"Is that what it is?" Lucas murmured, a hint of surprise surfaced in his tone. The apostle gaze behind the foliage, where he sees a few presence of bestial eyes gazed back into him. The native faunas of this planet. "Wow... I haven't had a taste of one since... forever."

"I'm not surprised. There's not a whole lot of hellworlds that have rain does it?" Emily commented upon his decades of travels.

Lucas chuckled lightly, musing to himself as he recollected the memories of his interstellar journey. After the great war ended, he had sought to travel across the stars in order to help worlds in need - and there plenty of them. Whether it was pirates, raiders, civil conflicts, famine and others of that kind, he was there as their guardian.

Many of said planets were in a state of torment themselves, stuck in a perpetual disaster conjured by the machine of wars. The crust of their domain cracked and burned, their sea boiled and tainted. The disastrous machinations of war generals had left many worlds in ruins, their previously paradise realm turned into hellish radioactive wasteland or metropolitan slums.

To say they were 'hellworld', while offensive, wouldn't be far from the truth.

"There's a few of them that do," Lucas uttered, shifting himself above the seat as Emily placed the last item. His eyes glanced at the dashboard, the holographic monitor supplied him the vessel's status. "But most likely than not, they're acidic."

Emily leapt to his back, carefully setting herself as she comfortably settled on the cushion. For a moment, the kitsune hesitated, her eyes traced upon his back then slowly to his hips before she tentatively wrapped her arms around his torso. "W- well, at least you got to see rain after so long."

Lucas blinked, very consciously aware how her dainty hands clasped his body, subtly caressed his abdomen. A light flush emerged on his cheek, in which he quickly fought to suppress it. Try as he might however, the warmth pressed against his back was one he couldn't ignore.

Using a mild trace of arcanus to divert the countless hormones threatening to impair his focus, Lucas let out a weary sigh. He placed both his arms upon the handle, a simple twist of both allowed his mind connected into the vehicle's pseudo-brain.

Like many vessels in the modern galaxy, the hoverbike employs the use of psychic technology that allows the direct tether to the mind, an advanced form of personal navigation without the use of a physical operating system. An artificial, lab-grown brain, lacking in sentience but possessed just enough neural activity to perform its telepathic duty.

Lucas was unperturbed by the strange psionic tendrils that seeped into his mind, the intrusive presence in his thoughts weren't as invasive as it used to be. The hoverbike roared, or rather, shrilled as the graviton generator pulsated. With a simple tug of his mind, it propelled forward. Gravitic propulsion pushed the craft several times the speed of those strange equine creatures brought by the Imperials he learnt as 'horse'.

Photonic barriers manifest themselves in front of him, protecting the occupants from the irritation of the wind.

Trees blurred past them, small weeds, branches and shrubs slammed against the photonic shield, ignored by the hoverbike and its riders. Normally, to travel at such speed in such an environment would be a spell for disaster, but for an apostle whose mind was honed for centuries - it was nothing more than a casual trip in the dunes.

Small animals scurried under their presence while large ones only watched warily from afar.

Lucas couldn't help but to allow himself a smile at the brief moment of tranquility amidst the lush forest. The lively chirping of the birds, the constant buzz of insects... It was therapeutic for a man drowned in centuries of war. He knew that this wouldn't last, for every peaceful moment such as this, would be followed with ceaseless violence - as he was about to experience at the moment.

---

Mudwan Camp, Falmart

Mudwan was a kingdom of mages, it was said that their origin ties to the founding of Rondel - although such hearsay was based upon mere speculations. Their legions, while not as numerous or unbeatable as those of the imperials, it was still not to be trifled with.

The king himself was not a sorcerer, but he was adept enough with its secrets. Flanked to his right and his left, were the royal mages in which he himself picked. Trained since fledglings, they were masters of the mystic arts, befitted for the titles of sages.

Kaius La Unimanus IX, the current monarch of Mudwan and the master of over twelve thousand battlemages, six hundred of which were used in this upcoming war. He was frail, in comparison to the other warrior kings, but still coiled in thick sinews and muscles. Strangely, he was more adept in archery than swords - but not to say that he was unskilled in the art of the blades either.

The tent they erected was crude at best, only a simple drape over four wooden poles. Unlike the Imperials, the Mudwan legions had no demi-human auxiliary, they were deemed too untrustworthy to be amongst their rank - only useful to be served as menial servants.

"Milord, Legatus Livius Augur of the Fifth Legionnaire here to report," saluted the soldier.

Kaius nodded jerkily, his eyes still drawn towards the map. It was very well made, he noted, unrivalled talent that he must appreciate. The Mudwan King, beside a warrior and a political leader, was first and foremost an artisan. He appreciates the delicate nature of craft when he sees one.

"The First and Second Legionnaires are being positioned to the left and right flank as you command, the battlemages will be positioned behind the Third Legionary shield bearers and supported by rearguard archers. Our vanguard, much like you advised, has been set to place - though there are still spearmen yet to prepare themselves."

Kaius hummed, satisfied that the long awaited conflict had been prepared and readied. He knew, from what was told, that their enemy was still recovering from the imperial assault. It would be a day worth of march forward, and perhaps a bit more if they were to conserve energy. Not enough time for the barbarians to erect any significant fortifications.

"What of our scouts?" The king questioned, his hand brushing away the dirt above his map.

"The... wyvern scouts haven't returned yet, although I suppose it would take them a few more hours at most to arrive," said the legatus.

"Hmmm... we will wait first. While I doubt that this new enemy would barely pose a challenge - it is best we gauge their threat," Kaius reasoned.

The warm air breezed into the tent, slightly ruffled the king's hair. The royalty caught a glimpse of his soldiers as they excitedly discussed amongst themselves, probably regarding the topic of their upcoming battle. He brought with him, the strength of ten thousand men - along with six hundred mages. The number, though not as impressive compared to the imperial force was still a large resource.

For a moment, Kaius wondered if he truly got the right to obtain the land beyond the Gate. He didn't doubt the Empire, to do so would break their trust, something Sadera had nothing to gain from. His wandering thoughts however were interrupted by another presence who barreled into his tent, one of the Mudwan guards he had assigned to watch their perimeter.

"What is the meaning of this?" The legatus declared angrily at the man's audacity.

Kaius however, merely raised his brow. He was not unfamiliar with messengers barging into his private quarter to send an urgent message. "Speak, soldier."

The guard catches his breath, before he locks his gaze with his king. "W- we saw something coming into our way, Milord. Some of my peers claimed it to be a large beast of some sort."

"A mere beast? Is that what you are here for?" The legatus berated.

"N- no, it is not a mere beast. The thing is fast, it was... purring, I think - and heading to our way. All of the animals are panicking and-"

"Take me to this so-called... 'beast'," Kaius exclaimed. Curious, as well as dubious of the man's claim.

---

It was not a beast, at least not one that he knew. Kaius had hunted in his youth when he was but a crowned prince. There were many creatures he hunted, and few more he couldn't. The Mudwan King was aware, whatever this creature may be, it was not one he could hunt alone.

The birds quietened under its presence, the critters in the forest scampered away.

The sound it produced was strange, almost euphonic to the ears. A meld between the gentle dulcet of purring kitten and the soft chimes of chirping birds. However, it was deep as well, almost omnipresent. Then, he saw a silhouette barreled through the forest, a strange object that hastened past bushes and roots.

Not long after, the silhouette revealed itself.

Kaius was left speechless and nonplussed. A reaction shared amongst his guards and his personal mages, their spears and wands pointed towards it. The object was strange in appearance, it curved at the front and at the back, a geometric pattern along its metallic, white body. It was floating, held by an invisible force - a levitation spell, Kaius presumed.

Its passenger, a pair of strangely attired demi-humans. One, a silver haired catfolk with a light, intricate armour and the other, an auburn haired foxfolk draped in elegantly adorned dress befitted for a noble. If they were pleasure slaves, Kaius had no doubt that they'd be sold at a high price.

Their strange steel mount silenced itself, still staying afloat. The catfolk turned to face them, his twin sapphire eyes could bewitched many women. A pang of envy roused within Kaius' heart, but he quelled them.

"Who are you?" One of the guards hissed, spear held tightly in his hand. A sneer barely held back, his disdain for the demi-human not masked.

"Call me... Guardian," the catfolk spoke, his accent strange. It sounded more like music, quite pleasant to the ears.

"You must be so full of yourself. I will ask you again, who are you and what business do you have here?" The guard barked, his anger barely contained.

"Hold your hand guard." Sighed Kaius, eyeing the subhumans with suspicion. He was more interested in their odd mount, arcane construct never seen before. He motioned his hand, in an instant, his mages reacted, conjuring spells. The intricate green, ethereal construct manifested around their wrists. "Bring them to the camp."

The pair were unbothered, rather they seemed quite annoyed at the entire process, much to his irritance. Kaius knew not who they were - these two didn't seem like they belonged from the North, especially not with such incredible arcane contraption.

Spears were drawn to them, yet they were unflinching. As they were dragged near the camp, Kaius and his custodian sorcerers were left to inspect the metallic vessel. Kaius furrowed, none of its mechanisms made sense to him. Most of it hidden within the iron... hippogryph? If it could be even called as such.

The mages, with obvious fascination, peered the vessel meticulously. Drawn to its enigmatic nature. There was a pair of extensions near its... head? Where the hands were placed, and some sort of seating on its back.

One of the mage channeled forth the power of Elange and conjured flame from his fingertip in an attempt to cut through the metal armour plate. Much to his surprise, the material was far more durable than he anticipated, barely affected by the scorching heat. "T- this is not steel," he realised.

Kaius arched his brow, even more intrigued by the contraption. As he made his way to the vessel, he squinted as a certain glimmer in its surface, the glossy, almost glassen texture of its material. It was easy to gauge what it was. His eyes widened, his mouth agape. "Mithril..."

"I- impossible!" One of the mages exclaimed.

"M- Milord, surely you must be mistaken. For this... thing to be made of mithril, the resources it would require-"

Kaius stomped away, quickly followed suit by his mages. The king ordered for the rest to haul the strange mithril hippogryph to their camp to be further inspected. His heart drummed beneath his chest, his lips quivered. He made his way to the other tent where they kept both of the demi-humans captive, their arms and legs chained.

The Mudwan King slammed the table before them both, glaring at the beastfolks. "Who are you people?"

"We-" the foxgirl was about to say before she was cut off by her feline compatriot.

"We are sent here as delegates from Alnus."

Kaius did a double back, he blinked, once then twice. The monarch stared at them both, he gawped for several more seconds before he slumped to his stool. The nearby guards were equally perplexed, before it morphed to scorn.

"Beast scum!" One of them yelled, drawing his blade. "You are a fool to come here!"

"Hah, stupidity is nothing new for beasts like you. Did you come here to offer yourself?" Another chimed in.

"Or perhaps you want to grovel to our feet?" the next continued with the insult.

Kaius' frown deepened. They came here with strange constructs, unarmed and claimed themselves to be the enemy for no apparent reason. Was this some sort of a trick?

"What reason do you come here?" The king forced away his voice of contempt. Though disdain filled his heart, he would not allow it to cloud his judgement. These beastmen came here for a reason, to bring their greatest mount must be a show of power. He sneered at their attempt. Impressive as it may be, the vessel was nothing more than a glorified cavalry - it served nothing more than a form of transport.

Even a horse would be better, cheaper and more efficient than the complex contraption of the enchanted object. To supply it with perpetual levitation spell was a waste of mana, to embellish it in mithril was a waste of weapons and armour. These demi-humans knew nothing more but to flaunt their riches, or perhaps the enchanted vessel was a stolen artefact made by gods.

He wouldn't put past these savages to do such a blasphemous act.

"As a representative of peace," the catfolk voiced. "We... perhaps there is some misunderstanding between us."

"The only thing that is misunderstood is you, wretch. We have no use to speak with creatures like you," Kaius exclaimed. "If it wasn't for that... whatever that was, you wouldn't even have the privilege to talk to me now. There is nothing your people can offer that we can't just grab. Now, I will give you two options."

The catfolk raised his eyes, subtly glanced at the spears pointed around them.

"The first offer of mine is that you will teach us what sorcery that powers the... the thing that you rode and perhaps I will be generous enough to let you both live as slaves. The second... well, I'm sure I don't have to tell you do I?"

"Are there no other options?" The foxfolk muttered, not out of fear but rather bored irritation. Her eyes were glowing, Kaius noticed, or it was the trick of the light.

"You savages should be thankful that I give you the chance to live." Growled the king, a contemptuous action shared amongst his guards. One of his guard mage snarled, a flicker of magic conjured to intimidate them.

"Well, let me make my offer." The catfolk said.

Kaius frowned, seething hatred exuded in his voice. "Are you beasts deaf?! I said-" before anymore could be said however, he saw a sudden manifestation of pale light conjured from the catfolk's hand. His chains broken with ease, the weapon glimmered inside the tent.

With an impossible speed, the catfolk quickly incapacitated, or rather, slaughtered all those within. His movements were like a blur, barely perceived by mortal sight. He leapt backward, strong enough to tore through the tent and rolled. The foxfolk waved her arm, their weapons suddenly flung to the other side.

Kaius staggered back, confusion clouded his mind as he yelled for reinforcement. His mage guard sprung to action, conjuring spells in their hands. He saw walls of flames, streams of lightning hailed to their assailants. Fire and lightning, two things most favoured by the mages. It was easy to see why, nature had shown how devastating they could be. The infernal wrath of flame meld with inescapable fissures of lightning.

These mages were powerful, trained by royal scholars, they had mastered the mystical arts for decades. Amidst the simple fire spell and lightning spear were accompanied with exotic spells; a combination of several elements of earth, air and spectral energy.

However, much to his shock, the foxfolk proved herself to be a greater sorcerer as she tore pieces of the earth to hold back the cascade of magical attack. The beast woman frowning as her gaze is drawn to the mages.

The catfolk was equally potent himself, with speed and strength beyond the likes of mortals, he lunged himself at the encroaching army. His pale blade suddenly fissured, sparking tendrils of incorporeal ribbons manifest themselves before he channeled all that power into a raging, celestial storm. Arching white ribbons, coiled and writhed, they expanded and slithered, reaching outward and struck legions of soldiers mercilessly. A tempest of light and destruction, a single wave of his arm and the coiling mass of ethereal ribbons shifted along with his motion.

"What the hell are they!?" Kaius' mage exclaimed in horror, still recovering his mana.

It was a massacre, nothing close to a proper fight. They brought with them the very power of mother nature itself, a walking storm in the form of flesh. The foxgirl raised spears, swords and arrows with her mind to summoned her own hurricane, the speeding hazard tore through men like papers. Her action unimpeded, even with the combined efforts of the mages, she managed to shield away their attacks from various armaments used as a bulwark. Her assault was ceaseless, an excess of power that would've drain a mage by now.

The Mudwan mages however, were not one to relent. With their magick, they harnessed the gift of Elange and manifested them through multitudes of shape. Some unleashed the iconic flames of a sorcerer, some projected the wild lightning that streaked the air, some bent the earth under their will, some summoned the unstoppable tide of water and others conjured their own spells as well.

Yet each and every attack was skillfully blocked, her strange sorcery wrecked the very ground only to be used as an impenetrable wall. Seconds after she halted their combined assault, the witch lifted the rock with but a mere tilt of her head. It shattered, becoming small pieces before they were hurled at extreme speed, puncturing the armours of the Mudwan warriors.

Minutes past as the battle, nay, slaughter continued. As their numbers waned and their men wavered, Kaius ordered a retreat. Gathering his men behind a solid iron wall he knew to be futile - he had seen their powers. In an instant, the chaos was halted, the pair stood, unperturbed by the arrows aimed over their heads.

A pregnant silence pervaded the air, an intense pressure that pressed over the army. Kaius shivered as he slowly picked himself up, both eyes glared at the beastfolks in fear, awe and discontent. His mages gasped, struggling to stand upright as their mind suffered the effect of mana deprivation.

"Fantastic, can we finally talk now?"

The catfolk, one who claimed himself 'Guardian', uttered. His hand swivelled, an action met with flinching fear as they saw the way the pale blade motioned. The same weapon that mauled hundreds in mere seconds.

"I think we both start off on the wrong foot. Let me reintroduce myself, my name is Guardian. I am the representative of an army beyond the Gate, I am here to offer a peaceful solution to this... conflict. We are here for the Empire, now I don't know who or what your allegiance is but if you have nothing to do with Sadera, please leave."

"W- who... no, what are you?" The Mudwan King finally found his courage to ask, the burning question that festered in his inquisitive mind. He realised now that these two were no normal people, not mere beastfolks to be trifled with.

The catfolk stared, he seemed conflicted, hesitation crossed his face before he declared. "The Apostle of Light."

---

Lucas didn't know whether it was wise to reveal his nature. They needed a catalyst to discourage their attack and he was half-confident that to claim himself a deity would surely deter them. He had seen how gods were revered, the way their captives had spoken of their deities were nothing short of admiration and a hint of fear as well.

The gravitic whine of his hoverbike pervade his ears. Their brief discussion with the natives was cut short when Emily decided it was time they leave. Staying any longer would cause nothing but further unease.

The apostle cursed himself for his violent action, however if the situation repeats then he would have no qualm of doing the same ritual again. They were stubborn, infuriatingly so. Their hubris ignorance was quite vexing, it was like talking to wayward children.

The flicker of arcanus still dwelled inside him, not yet dissolved into the immaterial plane. Lucas mused to himself of his divine powers. Arcanus was, in essence, a purer version of vitas - less wild, more dense. It was the very essence that comprised the bodies of Pantheons, writhing energy no different than the soul itself.

The Moonlight Shard, other than a sword, could also be used as a ranged and artillery weapon. Unleashing the raw power of arcanus into realspace, creating concentrated wraith-lightning and ether-storm. Drawing the unfiltered power of the Ether and dragging them into realspace could produce some terrifying effect.

The Immaterium was a realm of anarchy, it bends the very fabric of reality and distorts the nature of physics. Magic was only one form to contain its chaos, to graft structure and order to a concept that had none. The runes and spells that pervaded much of their techno-sorcery were feral vitas that were tamed and tempered.

"They won't stop," Emily sighed behind him, her body hugged his back as the hoverbike strode forward, weaving and avoiding trees. "I can only sense discontent and vengeful fury in their mind."

Lucas frowned but didn't say anything. Even after all that, and they still wanted to fight? This was beyond ignorance, it was rather pitiful. The hoverbike roared slightly as he reached an incline, the graviton generator berated his maneuverability with its own timbral voice. Sun rays pierced between the foliage, its eternal light graced their person with its warmth.

"So they'll attack regardless?"

"Possibly," Emily murmured, consciously trying to ignore the way her body hugged Lucas'. Torn between relishing the moment or to berate herself of it. The sight of Alnus could already be seen from here, the plain meadow was occupied with several makeshift constructions.

"We're here," Lucas muttered as the hoverbike emerged from the thick foliage. The powerful sensors scattered around Alnus had long detected their presence, the auto-turrets merely gave him a passing glance as it continued with its eternal vigilance.

The apostle mentally connects himself with the vehicle's communication system. A simple message relayed towards the command base. Lucas had purposely made it vague, he knew that it would beckon the generals to talk to him in person, a chance to further explain their situation.

It was unknown whether the native would listen, the uncertainty needed to be discussed with the others. There were currently five thousand Enforcers deployed into this mission, a number purposely kept low to not upset the Authorium Senate and their ceaseless bemoans regarding the Terran Non-Violent Act. So obsessed with their bureaucratic weight, the mountainous bulk of agreements, convenance, pact and treaties that had been collected for one thousand five hundred years across four million worlds. The Constitution of Harmony was colossal in its scale, so massive in its complexity that many of its legislation were unknown to even some of the Senate.

Any worlds found breaking one of the trillions of redundant Alliance Oaths found themselves at the ire of the Authorium. Terra was trudging upon a very thin line, if it were not for the prospect of arcanite this world offer, they would no doubt severely punish the local governor for his action.

Lucas dwelled upon the thought no longer, his vehicle safely parked near a building where numerous serfdrones approach with their mechanical arms in seek of maintenance. He alighted the bike, his action followed by the esper.

Lucas spared a glance unto the horizon and frowned, secretly hoping that they would return to their abode and to never bother the Alliance. However, he sighed, knowing too well that such a wish was naught but fantasy.

---

Mudwan Camp, Falmart

Kaius was plagued with fear, even his iron heart faltered. His body shuddered, his gaze remained locked at the scattered remains of their bodies. Whatever divine or eldritch power summoned by that so-called apostle had not only scorched and seared their flesh but mutilated them, transmorph their entrails into otherworldly materials.

Part of their oozing blood crystallised whilst their torn flesh turned into myriads of strange material, some of it were metallic in nature. Even his most esteem sorcerer failed to discern the nature of the abominable elements.

His men were fractured, half who were still zealous to continue this battle - the other reasoned that the force of gods was not what they wanted to face. Kaius sighed, if this was in any other situation, he would have chosen the former in a heartbeat and declared the latter to be traitorous cowards, but much to his own dismay, his mind was conflicted.

He knew not to trust the word of a pariah race, but regardless of his claim, the cat beast had proven his strength mere hours ago. He had lost an entire legionnaire and now was forced to replan his action. Kaius' mind wandered at their sorcery, so strange and powerful. If he could land his hand on such knowledge, perhaps he could overthrow the Empire itself. The temptation was... alluring, enough so to tempt his fate.

The prospect of death was not new to him, for every battle he fought, every blade he drew was a dance with death. He did not fear it, nor did he welcome it. The notion of death was just something he accepted in war. However, even with such acceptance, he wanted his death to be glorious - to be honourable and one that would be worthy of Emroy's Hall.

Kaius pondered at the idea of retreat, the very flicker of that thought however was quickly purged from his mind. This was the order of the Empire, their imperial decree. One he had no right to defy, and to do so would mean betrayal. The royalty shivered at such a thought. If he was to face the so-called, self proclaimed demi-god, then he would do so with honour... and competence.

To challenge a deity would be suicide, but that was only true if said deity even existed. For all he knew, the catfolk spouted nothing but nonsense, a means to intimidate. Surely, if he was a powerful, divine entity, he wouldn't have the need to approach them and warn?

There had to be a trick, Kaius realised. What kind of trickery it was however, one he couldn't discern. Their powers were not something his army could replicate, the sheer might they possessed was simply too much. A colossal feat, something akin to holding against the tide.

Now that he pondered deeper however, a slow revelation made its way to his mind. The very concept that abhorrent beasts such as that cat could become a chosen apostle was nothing short of asinine. The absurdity that the Filth would even dare claim himself related to gods was almost too comical to believe. It was obvious that his words were nothing but hollowed claims, fabricated tales.

Kaius tried his best to find the reason for their feat, recalling the scene in his mind and picking specific events into his consciousness. The foxgirl was a sorcerer, an accursed witch who had entranced his men and even himself with her foul magic. Perhaps a wide scale hallucinations that had scoured their mind. He clicked his tongue, of course, it was so obvious!

Kaius stood up, a deep scowl etched into his face. A great rage slowly surfaced itself. The man glared at his mage guard, who flinched under his gaze. "Gather the men and tell them to prepare themselves. We will march this evening. I will not allow mere savages to humiliate us!"

"B- but, Sir..."

"One of those heathens was a dark witch. Tell me, how capable are they in hallucination?" Kaius exclaimed. The mage's eyes widened at the insinuation before a look of relief and anger washed over him, clearly equally insulted as his king.

"Ahh... O- of course!" The mage elated. "That witch had cast a spell unto us. I apologise, Milord for my negligence."

"Your mistake is none of my concern. Come with me, I need rally the warriors. Their spirit crushed, but not for long!"

---

Alnus Hill, Falmart

Vando seethed at the answer, the vague uncertainty of their potential enemy's action was vexing. He wished, with all his might, to unleash upon them a torrent of occultic missiles and hellstorm shells. To reap their land with positron beams and plasma barrage. Yet he held himself, the dwarf was not a novice of war, he may not have served the Death War but he had experienced the cascade of its after effect decades after the event.

He knew the value of patience and the consequence of reckless violence. Vando was no stranger to war and its vile nature.

Thus he waited, with great patience he held his hand and awaited for the soldier to march through. With their crude spears, their shoddy blades and their primitive armours. It was a full day's worth of pause when they finally entered the empty field of Alnus.

From the soaring drones to the underground motion sensors, the clops of their hooves and the footfalls of their boots was a symphony of haphazard thumps. The artificial spirit that inhabits their machine was quick to gauge the size and height of every soldier by just listening to the weight of their footsteps. It was less than ten thousand men, with two thousand of which were cavalries.

They were ready for battle, Vando could only frown in detest. Their eagerness for bloodshed was no different than the orc raiders of the Perseus Sect. The dwarf oversees the hill from the base, holographic projection allows him to observe the scene in great detail.

Amongst the five thousand soldiers, only three thousand of which were sent towards the slant of the hill, with the rest left to operate the war machines and to monitor their base. Their automated infantry, the robotic foot soldiers were placed between the Troopers to accommodate for their lack of numerical advantage.

Drones, so high in the sky that they were nothing more than specks buzzed in the atmosphere, relaying unceasing information.

Vando mused to himself, the machines they've brought were manufactured on Lunar and due to the limitations of the moon's resources, many of the materials were a product of alchemical transmutation. Plastic elements, he noted. None of the plasteel, mithril and orichalcum that composed their war contraptions were authentic - a fabrication of incorporeal manifestation made to alter the compositions of matters into something else.

They weren't the best of quality the Enforcers have to offer, but it was adequate. After all, the difference between genuine plasteel and transmuted one was very insignificant. The invading army bears the emblem of a yellow cross on their armour, with a banner of the same structure. Their march was relentless, their formation was almost perfect, however nowhere near the synchronisation of combat droids. Several hundreds of them clad in blue robe with their channelling staff in their hand, a weapon no different than the cyber-sceptres wielded by techmages and flecta magus.

Vando scoffed. The Enforcer was merciful just as it was vengeful. His finger itched, a simple command to the AI was enough for it to release their destructive armament. It was so easy. The dwarf sighed, berated himself for that. Too quickly his mind wandered to violence, he would not allow himself stoop to a savage warlord.

"Send them a warning," he voiced to the communicator. Through the connection of the Immaterium, their device tethered to an ethereal string. Said string carried his voice through the Astral Plane, traversed within the realm of spectres before it reached to the other side.

"Copy, Sir."

---

It was only an hour ago that he heard about the encroaching army. Hendrick frowned as he laid to the ground, eyes locked on a nonexistent scope, his visor was his only guidance. The virtual laser materialised before his vision seemed so tangible despite knowing well that it was nothing more than augmented reality, a cascade of digital spirit's algorithmic simulation.

In spite of the glaring heat of the local star, now had soothed a little as it slowly drifted near the horizon, not quite touching the line between heaven and earth, Hendrick felt nothing. The suit did its best to regulate the internal temperature, the Aegis armour was an enclosed environment, most elements within it were designed to be self sufficient.

His ear flicked when a drone in the distant approach their incoming, potential enemy. They were very far, a distance not possibly perceived by mortal eyes. Even with the enhanced visor of his suit, he could barely spot them. The kitsune recalled his briefing, ten thousand soldiers. There were ten thousand combatants for his blasters to shoot. Ten thousand threats for five, or rather, three thousand of them to quell.

If it was against the Blood Horde he would say it was impossible. If it was against the Carrion Swarm he would say it was suicidal. However, their current enemy was nothing of those horrors. They were mundane species, with decent strength, dexterity, speed and a slightly superelven endurance - but nothing more. Their arms broke the same as any nekomata, they bleed to death as any kitsune, they tire as any halfling and they run as any dwarf. Of course, their magic was not one to be underestimated, even with their crude spellcraft and near nonexistent magical principles, they wield sheer raw vitas almost equivalent to the portion of an apostle - which was in itself a terrifying prospect.

Even the greatest of elven archomagus comes nowhere near the percentage of a demi-god. Yet these savages were reported to possess, each of them, the same level of power as a neophytic apostle - whose vitas was comparable to an entire skyscraper. Such a threat was not to be taken lightly, no matter how foolish they wield those powers. After all, knowledge could be easily learnt but power was hard to obtain.

Hendrick glanced to his side, where the humanoid combat droid, Husk S-6, lay prone. The kitsune managed a smirk. 'Humanoid', he mused, was almost similar to the name of those self proclaimed 'humans'. In the language of the Omni Lingua, humanoid meant something that resembled elvish. Entities that had some characteristics of an elf, either with their bipedal nature, dual arms or upright body.

It was said that the elves were a direct creation of the Predecessor, that their appearance was shaped under the image of the Ancient Precursor. If that were the case, then it was no doubt that these 'humans' were a bastardisation of those images.

Hendrick shook his head, refocused himself back to the empty field. How long had he waited, minutes, hours? Even with the psionic clock ticking into his mind, the suit a constant reminder, Hendrick was lost in his own thoughts. Then however, his visor blinked. A voice spoke to his ear, the gruff tone of a weathered veteran.

"Hostiles had breached through the Yellow Zone and ignored the warning. All units churn your blasters. Only fire once they've reached the Red Zone."

Hendrick's visor helpfully produced a visual simulation to his retina, displaying the radius of the Red Zone. It was near a kilometer distance between them and the enemy, a range even the worst of plasma blasters could reach - though maybe with lesser accuracy. In his hand was the ARC-7 Piercer, one of the most commonly used across the Alliance. While not certainly the best of its kind, the ARC-7 was far from the worst.

With an effective range of 2.5 kilometers and a maximum range of twice that amount, such a parameter was beneath the capability of his Piercer.

Thus Hendrick patiently waited, his finger looped around the grip. The psychic link from his mind to the synthetic brain within his weapon constantly sharing information, his blaster becoming an extension of his own.

---

Enigma cloaked herself in the shadow, while the rest of the soldiers perched and gazed at their enemy like a hunter to its prey, she only chose to sit and watch.

There was a sense of unease in them, she knew. Do as they might to hide, the Reaper could see the way their tail swayed and their ears flicked. They were uncomfortable of her presence. She couldn't blame them.

While many had their mind, and by extension, their soul present in the Ether, she was entirely disconnected from it. A walking absence, devoid of tangible soul. She was the bane of magic, the anathema to the gods.

Enigma though, was not insulted by their discomfort. It was not one done out of malice or distrust, merely a side effect for one who had no soul to speak of her own. The Creed of Cowl had spread the ideology that in death, their mind would gather and coalesce amongst one of many void-wielders in the galaxy, a rapture after life. The kobold shook her head at such delusions.

Unlike many others, whose souls were proven real, thus their death would have a meaning - she was one without soul and thus there was no continuation after her death - only an empty limbo. Enigma did not care.

Death was meaningless to her, she existed only to serve the Creed and by extension, the Alliance, to a lesser degree. It matters not if her life was meaningless, as long as she made other's meaningful. Some view it to be morbid, but not for her. It was an honour, one she would bear till her cease of existence.

The Reaper tilted her head as her communicator bleeped into her ears. It was the mark of battle, her eyes roamed the hill, where the soldiers firmly held to their blasters. The kobold summoned her void power, the anthemic miasma that even light wavered under its touch. In seconds, she was clouded in eternal darkness, where her form cloaked in the black cloud.

She pulled out her Abyssal rifle, the thin, cylindrical barrel connected to a dainty grip. Its needle tip front oozes with dark power. The combination of technology and mysticism allow for her dark energy to be concentrated, contained and propelled at extreme velocity. Unlike most other weapons of the Enforcer, hers did not use psychic link to tether to her gun's mind. Her weapon was less of a blaster, more or a wand. All it took was a simple cast of her power, channelled into the rifle before it discharged its content.

She was not given the privilege as others to observe the field through an augmented visor. However, she didn't need to. Her retina twitched, following the motion of her ocular muscles, her iris expanded even within the darkness, enhanced sight allowed her to see the world through the shadow. Near nine thousand and nine hundred men in rudimentary armours strode to their doom.

Four drones descent, blaring loud chants accompanied with bright light. Enigma couldn't hear what they spoke, but she knew the contents of their speech. That did little to impede their march, even from here she could see their confusion turned to mockery.

Enigma raised her weapon, her eyes locked to her scope. She ignored the muttering of disbelief from the others, the way they questioned the competence and sanity of their enemy. Her body, motionless. Every muscle in her paused.

The incoming army was awfully slow with their walk, they trudge upon solid ground and fresh air yet the speed of their march was laughable at best. Beneath their disciplined stride and their stoic face were clumsy primates and barbaric warriors. If she was not a Reaper, Enigma would've felt pity for them.

As their foot stepped into their land, the assassin unleashed her scourge upon the humans. Dark, sizzling power manifested itself before it leapt from the pointy tip of her weapon, the void-projectile whistled as it pricked the air around it. Massless substance hurled at super sonic velocity, not slowing down. Only half a second passed when it slammed against its victim, an unfortunate battlemage who screamed in agony, the arcane power that swirled in him drained of his body.

Enigma didn't smile nor did she frown. She only repeats her action again, and again.

---

Mudwan Kingdom Legion, Alnus Hill

Kaius had convinced his men of the truth of their enemy. They were nothing but malevolent deceivers, boneless savages who resorted to cowardly trickery in an attempt to ward their attack. The king sneered at himself, regretted that he would be fooled for such an underhanded tactic. How dare that demi-human declare himself an apostle? Does he know no fear of angering the gods?

It didn't matter anyway. He would pleased Emroy with his blade for their blasphemy. Perhaps they should be burned to cleanse off their sin, or perhaps that fox demi-human could absolve her transgression with her body. It would be of great service to appease not only them, but the gods as well... surely.

His mages muttered a litany of chants both prayer to Elange and magical invocation. Kaius had given them the best wood to carve their staff and the best manastone to forge their mystic tool, they will not fail him now. A large bubble of mystical ward erected around them, one made to sway the rolling tide of hallucinogenic mist away.

He would not be made a fool again, Kaius had come prepared with his soldiers and his mages, no mere tricks can no longer impede their vengeful wrath.

Then however, in the midst of their most glorious march, a strange presence descended from the sky. They were numerous, like a flock of birds. Their existence brought unease amongst his rank, some of the soldiers raised their hands to point at their arrival, while others readied their bows and their staff. Kaius himself was perturbed, his eyes trailed at the swarm with caution.

They have no wings to speak of, no talons or beak. Merely floating spheres with jutted protrusion, a creature unlike any they've seen before. The appearance of the strange, foul things had halted their advance, the warriors too distracted by the flying bugs to march.

Kaius frowned, what was the meaning of this? He turned to face his warden and his personal warrior mage. "What is this?"

"I - I don't know. They are swarming our army yet hadn't done anything yet," the mage uttered. "S- should we continue our advance?"

However before a word could be spoken from the king's mouth, the gathered swarm suddenly shimmered. Strange light began to manifest itself, only serving to further unease the soldiers. They were beautiful things, the strange light, like glittering sparks of stars they swirled the air before gathering into a singular point, slowly materialised itself into a vague shape.

It was a face, Kaius realised. A face of an elf, one that seems so young, without the crease or wrinkle of humans. However, the Mudwan King had seen many elves in his life and knew that this one was far from his youthful age.

"You are trespassing Alliance's territory, your soldiers are not welcomed here. Please leave the area, if you do so choose to cross our border we will be forced to use lethal measures, you have been warned."

A look of shock spread amongst Kaius' men, along with a hint of astonishment as well. This was a type of sorcery even the likes of archmages knew nothing of. In spite of his scorn, Kaius was intrigued. It seems like the savages had proven themselves adept in the art of sorcery, perhaps it was the very reason for their victory against the Imperial.

The king scoffed at their attempt to sway his conviction, it was a pitiful attempt. "Listen men!" He boomed, drawing the attention of his soldiers. "Listen as they beg for mercy, as they cower before us with their witchery!"

The Mudwan soldiers cackled and sneered, they made mockery of the barbarians. Kaius let a drip of pride into his chest, he unsheathed his blade and directed it to the hill, where he noticed now that it was infested with their structures, although from a distance, it was difficult to gauge. "They try to intimidate you, warriors of Mudwan, the kingdom's pride! They think our heart falters for such spineless deceit? Nay, let the bite of our sword be their demise, let the righteous flames of our fury burn their husk, let your bulwark stand before their treachery! To me, my men. Forward to victory!"

He smiled, heart filled with pride. There was no greater honour than to lead an army of loyal warriors. Their footfall thundered against the ground, their voice barked against the air. With their blade now drawn, glistened under the radiance of Flare, they were like a tide of the sea. Unrelenting and unstoppable.

Kaius' eyes glared at the hill, even now they cowered in their hut. Not a single soldier could be seen, none of the shining armour or massive hordes - his eyes were only greeted with the sight of empty, green meadow. He smirked as well as he scoffed. It was just as he suspected, they were cowards. It humoured him that these cravens had halted the Imperial forces. A delightful reminder that those Saderan weren't invincible gods as they paint themselves to be.

He didn't ride on a horse, though many kings of his stature would have chosen a steed for this momentous occasion, he elected to charge with his legs. His personal mages flanked to his side, their ceaseless chanting brought vigour to his soul and body. They were sorcerers of Rondel, taken by him to be his warriors and guards. They were his shield and his blade, a band of arcane wielders under his guidance.

"Milord," one of the sorcerers uttered to his side, already panting. "I can see none of their soldiers, perhaps this is a trap."

"Maybe, but I doubt those barbarians could muster a proper trap against sorcerers like you," Kaius replied.

The mage shook his head. "It is not we that I am most concern of, but the swordmen."

Kaius hummed to himself. His mage does have a point, it would be a shame that his men fell under the tricks of the savages. "Men, be careful and watch your steps! Such as the nature of these barbarians, they are nothing but cowards. Beware of traps, and don't fall to their deceit!"

His word rang to his men, and those who were too far to reach their ears, their legionnaire centurion were there to relay his order.

Kaius brood to himself as his army forge on. The Imperials, those respectable yet foolish, arrogant legions would've scoffed at the threat of demi-humans. The King of Mudwan was not one to underestimate his foe, regardless of their worthless nature. He might mock them, ridicule their strength - but never once he would let his guard down. Any foe capable of inflicting harm was a threat.

The green grass of Alnus toiled under their heavy footsteps, their armoured boot battered the soft ground. It was an unsightly thing to do in a sacred land, but Kaius knew that such transgression could be forgiven in order to remove the vermins that festered the hill.

The royal monarch however could only frown when they finally near the hill. They were still four leagues away from their objective, the idyllic meadow seemed so delicate under the deep azure of the sky, now slowly exhibits a hint of reddish hue as the sun slipped to the horizon. Amidst the greenery however, was a strange construct that littered the ground. They were grand structures, made of metal and carapace.

He hides his displeasure behind a stoic mask. For the savages to erect a fortress this quickly was impressive, mayhaps something that could be offered to the Allied Kingdom. Kaius squinted when he recognised a few glimmers in the distance, they were concealed behind thick shrubbery.

"It seems like they are preparing an ambush," his loyal mage uttered at his side, his voice rich with derision.

Another to his right belittled, a light smirk emerged on his hardened face. "Pathetic. Do they think they can beat us like that?"

Kaius sighed, "keep the mage-barrier men. Show these savages the might of Mudw-" he paused, there was tumult amongst his rank. His men were yelling, their voice barely audible under their heavy footfalls. The upheaval spread, more of the soldiers were panicking. The king furrowed, perplexed at the sight.

Before a word could be spoken, he saw one of his archers lurched. Their body jerked before they fell, their head stained crimson.

"What in the name of Hardy!?" Kaius muttered a curse. His eyes remained glued to the fallen man, examining his strange injury. One of his colleagues kneeled, in an attempt to mend his wound.

The king's eyes wandered the land, more of the same curse befall his men. Then, without warning, a sudden clap shuddered the land. The monarch's gaze quickly averted, only to find a large crater where the thunder once roared. It was not the only one, many of the same rumble suddenly spread to the land. The very ground quaked without reason, large dust kicked in the air as coiling ribbons of energy appeared just as it dissolved.

"What is this!? What is happening, why is the land erupting?" Kaius barked, more out of fear than anything. Had they angered gods?

His sorcerers had no answer of their own, as they too were driven in panic. They kept the flow of magic, maintaining the barrier around them. Kaius peered the land, trying to find reason.

Suddenly, his soldiers were struck by ceaseless assault from an unseen force. Their bodies shred to pieces, bones and flesh torn like wet clay. Like the scythe of Giselle, it reaped through the soldiers, maimed them in bloody discord. There was a flash of spark when their bodies were struck, a flicker of light before it fulminated into a gory shower.

Battlemages erected their bulwark, either the mage barrier or stone walls. Neither of which helped to impede the wrathful juggernaut. Arrows let loose in moments of panic despite it being leagues away from their effective range, discharging their darts to unknown enemies. Men screamed and whimpered, praying to their gods and their mothers.

Kaius ignored their pleads, he and his mages cowered behind thick layers of earth wall, one that was quickly chipped away, only for its defense to be renewed, slowly draining the mage's mana. He couldn't see where the attack was coming from, nor could he imagine how it was possible.

He watched as his soldiers died. Their bodies torn, the remaining flesh melted along with their iron armours. Some had their skin turned glass, their armours dissolved along with their blood into crystallised substance before they dissipated into nonexistent, leaving a gaping wound of half crystallised laceration. Some had their skin flayed before their inner flesh also liquefied, left only their bones and the screams of their dissolving throats. Their deaths were numerous, each more terrifying than the others. Like a great curse, they were all under the wrath of Hardy.

The ground shook once more and the air wailed in defiance. Whatever spirits that inhabited the hill lamented as their abode were defiled.

Kaius let the symphony of intercession filled his chapped lips. His body trembled just as another eruption occurred, the wrath of whatever that summoned such power could be felt into his bones. He was pinned, with nowhere to run. His loyal servants and most trusted sorcerers remained with him, their eyes still filled with defiance and determination.

The king blinked, mentally slapped himself. He shouldn't let his fear overcome his senses, he was an exemplar to his army, their paragon of a warrior. Kaius gripped his sword, glaring at the hill with great contempt. His plan turned asunder, but it mattered little. The Crowned Prince of Sadera had also defeated mighty foe, this would be no different than that.

Their magic was impressive and terrifying, he could see now how they could easily overwhelm the Imperial, but surely their mana would eventually run out. He scoffed at them, cursing the savages for daring to challenge them.

He turned to face his mage. "Can you sense where this attack is coming from?"

"I... I can't, it is all too confusing." Uttered the mage. His face paled, not only from the fear but the slow asphyxiation of mana as well. His fingers trembled, straining his mind against the relentless barrage. "M- my mana is waning, Milord. Our forces are driven back."

"Spears of Flame, spellcaster!" Kaius declared. "Cast Spear of Flames to the hill, and two of you need to invoke the Chain of Gale. I have once seen fire magic invigorate under the influence of well placed wind magic, the fiery Spear will break their defense. Once they are distracted, use your lightning magic, and have the archers gathered!"

"B- but, Your Majesty, with such distance, it will be impossible for our attack to land!" One of the mage remarked.

"The Spear of Flames is more than capable of reaching them!" Kaius exclaimed just as he felt the ground shake once more. "I'm afraid all of you will need to expend your mana for the lightning, we have no choice!"

Kaius let out a cry when one of the eruptions occurred close to his vicinity. The dusty dirt torn from the ground, it wailed in the air and covered them in obscured fog. There was crackling energy in its wake, strange ribbons of light that writhed before it disappeared. The Mudwan King shuddered.

He had seen explosions before, from the black powder of the dwarves, the combined might of mage legion, the fiery breath of wyrm. Yet none of them were even comparably close to the devastation it left. The shattered remnants from the earthly foundation they stood left only the carved, blackened state of the soil, along with few glowing red hot rocks.

Kaius faltered, his legs quivered.

---

The artillery bombardment was rather lacking. Hendrick could see why. Their opponents were barely the worth of a single etheric shell, let alone a cascade of them. Their hail of plasma was more than enough to handle the advancing assaulters.

Hendrick couldn't help but admire their tenacity. Even when their allies made to mincemeat, they continue onward. Their mages proved to be quite the irritance as they erect defenses, no matter how crude, were still effective in delaying their death.

He arched a brow when arrows flew, their direction rose meaninglessly in the air, finding none of its mark as it fell to the ground just a few hundred meters away from its masters. His own gun whined as it belched an endless stream of superheated plasma. For every half a second past, the invisible bolt streak and find its mark, a chain of death, perpetuated by his hands.

Hendrick felt no remorse, it was not ingrained into his head, trained to gauge the different value of life. If these savages were left to scour the hill, they would be all too pleased to send death to its occupants. Thus it was not remorse that surfaced into his heart, it was pity. He pitied them for their ignorance. He pitied them for their blindness. He certainly pitied the way they tried to stand against the tide.

Another rows of artillery were released, a barrage of contained plasmatic energy, hurled to the sky then barrelled down before they slammed against the earth. If it was not for the gravitic magic, the overexcited, near-massless particles would find themselves fling beyond the atmosphere, never to return to the ground.

Hendrick buckled, psionic tendrils swivelled in his mind, alerted him of his gun's faint defiant whine. He cursed, his carbine overheated, waiting for the internal coolant system to appease its core temperature. The kitsune sighed to himself, content to just pause for a few seconds before he could join his brethren.

He noticed that some of the magus were gathering and conspiring, and in the midst of their discussion, one of them would be flopped dead. Hendrick let the scowl etched his face. A few of their thaumaturge had taken upon themselves to retaliate, with their crude magic, they unleashed upon them arsenals worth of spells, an amount of which would drain sorcerers of his dimension very quickly.

Flames meld with lightning, earth fused with ice - and myriads of other magical assortment.

Hendrick silently murmured his disbelief. Their art of the arcane was too simplistic and childish, they conjured concepts that many found to be unoriginal. Sorcery was a power drawn from the Ether, the Astral Plane. It was a domain of the incorporeal, not bound to the limitations of the material plane. They could bend reality under their image, warp space, distort time. Matter and energy twisted under their mind, their thoughts meddled with the universe.

Sorcerers were reality benders, physic defiers, existential distorters. They were a threat and a blessing. While many techno-sorcery coded the immaterial via the use of arcanite, a crystal that gave them access to the Astral Plane. Magus themselves had their mind intertwined with the Immaterium, an inseparable bond.

Hendrick could only shake his head at their ignorance, both grateful and horrified that these people knew nothing about the true nature of their gift. He could only wonder what could have contributed to such stagnation.

His weapon mentally chimed, its psychic chirp was one he quickly responded. Under a matter of five seconds, it had cooled itself and urged its user to continue its service. Hendrick exhaled, letting the psionic tendrils read his intent.

The Piercer, in its nature, had no recoil. It was firing matters that were lighter than air, but the buckling sensation of a kicking weapon was one many soldiers found to be pleasing. Certainly something to do with the psychology of the average Fae. Hendrick had modified his' to have a light kick, a bare semblance to the recoil of a ballistic weapon albeit not as potent.

The shuddering sensation of his blaster against his shoulder was somewhat therapeutic amidst the slaughter. There was unease whenever his bolt slammed against the humans, it felt so wrong battling against an enemy so hapless. The absence of a challenge was an alien feeling for him, for a soldier who was trained to fight against numerous enemies that threatened the Alliance.

His visor then alerted him of a strange energy reading. It was only a flicker at first, one that quickly shifted to a screaming wail. Hendrick tensed, the suit helpfully provided him with an intriguing activity in the distance. Vitas were being manipulated, they bent and swirled on a wall of stone that he had neglected. The kitsune cursed himself, he redirected his aim at the disturbance and it seems like the others shared the same notion too when several more firepower channelled to the wall.

However, their attempt was in vain. Surge of mystical energy blared into his ears, the suit ceaselessly yelled to his mind of its energy signature.

"Oh fuck..." Hendrick uttered.

It was a flaming arrow, one that was larger than any he had seen before. The nature of such sorcery was still laughably crude, their spellcraft was a rudimentary work. However, crude it may be, the projectile still was one rich in vitas. He saw flickers of wind swirled around the fiery missile, guiding it to its direction.

The kitsune's eyes widened as it neared them, he didn't know how hot those flames were but he was not one to test its capability. Before it could impact however, dark, wavering miasma cloaked the trajectile. The flame was extinguished as quickly it manifested.

Hendrick turned to face their saviour, it was Enigma, he noted. Her indifferent stare was the same as always. The kitsune cracked a smile, even in this chaos, she was still a statue. He returned his attention to the enemy, more of those magic were being hurled.

The man uttered a litany of vile curses, the kitsune drew his gun and fired. The magical projectiles themselves were not fast, well at least compared to their plasma. The speed in which it travelled still were superior to the arrows they fired and even to some of the more antiquated kinetic guns.

Enigma joined in with the assault, her anti-magic dissolved some of their trajectile but not all of them. Few of which managed to slip through the crack of their thundering tide burst into large flames, they licked and quivered, blinding all those near with its light.

Hendrick found himself staring at the carnage, only to find armoured soldiers thrown to their feet, but mostly unharmed. It seems that the heat of their flames weren't enough to severely damage their exterior. However he could see some form of abrasion on their outer carapace.

Their magic was powerful enough to deactivate the Aegis' suit's thin layer of photonic shielding. Hendrick found himself frowning at that notion. Granted, the armour's energy field was best served to protect them against minor assault - but it was minor in terms of relativity. A flame so hot and so powerful to be able to overwhelm the suit's theurgical barrier could melt normal steel in seconds. Hendrick shuddered, finding himself grateful to be within his carapace.

---

Lucas stood and watched, not interfering. With a single swathe of his blade, combined with the arcanus in his blood, he could end the battle. Yet he chose to stay his hand. This was a conflict meant for mortals. He had sent them a message and they had ignored, now it was their own problem to handle.

The apostle sighed when a flicker of memories entered the surface of his mind. He quickly quelled them, it was a memory not of his own, belonging to one amongst millions of which his sword had bitten.

The pain of his enemies becoming his own, their regrets, their woes and their sins were exposed to his mind, ravaging his conscience with his victims' last thoughts. Oh how he hated his sword, how he wished to throw it at the heart of a star and left it fester for all of eternity. Yet he couldn't - much like the blade had swallowed the souls of many others, it had licked a portion of his' too.

The bond with his Vestige was made on a spiritual level, a bond couldn't be separated, even if he wished to. If he does so choose to abandon it, the Moonlight Shard would wail into his mind, it would screech into his conscience and harass his psyche till he returned to it. The blade was a very possessive and clingy weapon.

"Bad thoughts entering your mind?" Lucas flinched at the voice, his tense figure slackened. He turns to face the kitsune esper, a royalty of a distant planet and a war commander all the same.

He chuckled, pushing his attention away from the conflict. To be so casual in the midst of death and destruction was an act of disrespect - but he had seen and been to enough war to not let it bother him. They had chosen this path, thus they shall endure its consequences. It was a harsh reality, one where he wished he hadn't gotten used to.

"Peeking into my thoughts, Emily?" He murmured.

The esper strode near him, her eyes darted to the battle and a slight frown etched her face but she quickly shifted. Her eyes roamed his face. "I can't do that even if I wanted to, you know."

Lucas mused at that. As an apostle, his soul and mind was thick with divine ichor, every bodily fluid from his body was brimming with intense vitas, one that could obstruct the power of psychic force. Much like magic was weak against void, psychic powers had less influence over the immaterial. It was easy to understand why, psionic was a power of the material, the manipulation of the physical domain whilst magic was nothing but intangible.

Of course, not to say that sorcerers were immune to psychic powers. While it was true that the radiating vitas could cloud their mind against telepathic attacks, it did little to subdue their telekinetic abilities. Their bodies were just as physical and tangible as any object.

Their attention then averted back to the battlefield. Fiery streaks of magical missiles hurled to the Enforcers, some failed while others succeeded - though not by much.

"They're learning," Lucas noted, scowling.

Emily let a yarn of psychic flow between her fingers. Her vixen ears slightly drew back, sharing the same frown as her half god companion. "Should we...?"

The combatants of the Enforcer then retaliated with greater barrage, their machine of war thundered against the screeching air.

Lucas sighed and relaxed. "No, we wait."

[End of Chapter Five]

---

A/N: Quite a lengthy one eh?

Scentipedia, Free Galactic Encyclopedia

The Legion of Armed Enforcer is not an all encompassing singular entity, but instead an organisation comprising over several minor establishments. A coalition of varied institutions. It was first established after the Sixteen Core Worlds and its neighbouring planets were first discovered, gathering multitudes of military associations and placing them under a single, unified banner known as the Enforcer; named so to enforce the security and defense of the Alliance.

Although despite the deep and exhaustive list of structural order had been implemented, none of it was enough to encompass the sheer size of the Enforcer's true scale. Many worlds under the Alliance's dominion, especially those within the Outer Region had themselves, an establishment of military foundations, still considered to be a part of the Enforcers but never once officially registered as one.

Below are only a few lists amongst multitudes of forces belonging to the Enforcer.

[Terrestrial Division]

The Terrestrial Division, colloquially known as the Foot/Land Troopers, are the bulk of the Enforcer's forces. It is the main line of defense, the bulwark of the Alliance. They are the Enforcer's planetary strength, encompassing the ground, sea and air forces. The Terrestrial Division themselves consists of several sub-faction, each with their own planetary branches categorised to be a part of a 'Segmentia'. The most widespread of Segmentia are the Nova Segmentia - the grey armoured, plasma armed soldiers whose structure originated from the Bastion World, Novarix. It was however, not the only Segmentia in the galaxy. One such as the Aquaton Segmentia were an entire Terrestrial legion whose specialties lay upon aquatic environment, the Segmentium of Voltmen Company, those who wield Voltcasters, the Red Hound Segmentia, from the fringe of Perseus Sect and many others.

[Celestium Mobilis]

The Celestium Mobilis is the primary interstellar armed force of the Enforcer, the main naval power of its army. The Mobilis is so colossal in its scale that even some of its fleets are not officially registered under the Alliance bureaucratic weight. The Celestium Mobilis are divided into five major fleet operations, each one responsible for maintaining order of its own sectoral space. This includes, the Orion Sect, the Perseus Sect, the Centaurus Sect, the Sagittarius Sect and the Norma Sect. Every fleet possesses three deviating branches, each responsible for different tasks. The Lancea Classem spearhead of the assault fleet, the Clypeus Classem interplanetary defense force and the Voyagus Classem navigator of uncharted stars.

[Reaper Division]

The Reaper Division, also known amongst its own members as the Cowling Creed, is the Enforcer's main combat force against hostile thaumaturge. The Reaper Division consists entirely of void-based armaments, with their main attributes being stealth and assassination. Amongst the myriads of organisations unified under Enforcer's banner, the Reapers are regarded with most suspicion amongst the high ranking politicians for their secrecy, some of which even kept from the Hierarchs. They do not directly answer to the Alliance, but instead to the Cloaked Archlord.

[Proeliator Cognition]

The Proeliator Cognition is an entire Enforcal organisation of espers and psychic related militia. Founded by the Queen of Esper during the Death War, it is amongst the newest institutions under the Enforcer. With its establishment still relatively new, the Proeliator Cognition is small compared to most. Its main infantry force are the War Seer, psychic combatants whose powers are augmented by their technology. The Proeliator is unique in its segregated space force that remains separated from the Celestium Mobilis, known as the Astropsychos Mobilis, whose fleet comprises crystalline ships.

[Astrum Sentrian]

The Astrum Sentrian, a handful of genetically and cybernetically engineered supersoldiers whose entire purpose is to be the watchmen and sentry of the Capital World, Regium Centralis. Their genetic information is so valuable that if one were to fall under enemy hands, an entire fleet is sent to reclaim it. Armoured in ultra-adamantine, over a layer of uru composite, they are designed to withstand attack short of direct nuclear blast. The Astrum Sentrian are divided into three specialised classes, the Psion Astra of the psychic host, the Null Astra of the void host and the Theurgist Astra of the magic host. The rest of which, the Vigil Astra, the numerous guardians of Centralis. Although their main purpose is to safeguard the defense of the Primus System, sometimes the Sentrian are sent to a monumental task of either culling threats too great for the Vastators or escort essential fleets across hazardous stars.

[Vastator]

The Vastator, the Deathcrawler, the Veiled Apollyon. A legion of impeccable supersoldiers, akin to a Special Forces of the Alliance. They are individuals of unparalleled might and skills. Each member of the Vastators is genetically and cybernetically modified. Every cluster of cells, every bodily chemicals, every flow of vitas that inhabits their body altered and augmented, knowledge kept secret. They are potent in their own right, deadly warriors of destructive nature. However, due to the resources required to create a Vastator, they are few and far between, only fifty million of which currently exist. The Vastator had over thousands of offshoot branches, categorised as Sectum. Amongst the thousands of Sectum, only six are commonly known to the public; the Black Claw, the Armoured Spear, the Dread Walker, the Mighty Hand, the Mist Guard and the Red Halberd.