Review

Last Admiral: (1) Nice chapter. I can really feel the frustration here dealing with Falmartians that operted on LN Villian's logic. Seriously, the Gate never gave any sensible or concrete reason why fantasy racism even a thing. Were it religion? No, given the nature of the polytheist religion that seems to be everyone's faith across the Falmart in the canon.

Seriously, the whole racism agaisnt fantasy races in Gate dont make any sense when you considered the strength and special abilities each species have.

(2) Also, the King of Mudwan make fuss about blasphemy that "demihuman can be an apostles" was dumb and didnt make fucking sense, especially given the Wareharun ascended to godhood from a fucking tree and the apostle of the Hardy herself(that he said her name) was a dragonnewt(?) demihuman for fuck sake. I dont remember much about other apostles, but Mabel and Rory are the one that confirmed to be a human.

So yeah, this hatred thing against 'catfolk' demihuman thing didnt make any sense. As if trying to talk sense into the revenge isekai's MC that being mass murdering edgy is dumb.

A: Racism in general doesn't make sense, it is derived from prejudice, fear, ignorance and superiority/inferiority complex. It isn't supposed to make sense, because ignorant people don't put a whole lot of sense in their mind in the first place. It is true that demi-humans have their own specialties, but those quirks just acts as an excuse for the humans to fear them. The original Gate barely touched upon this concept and I wish to expand it even further.

Again, with the Mudwan thing, racism in real world itself isn't based upon logic, its root is formed from ignorance - however it does have an origin and I would like to press on that in future chapters. Actually now that I think about it, I think it'll be fun to touch on the subject of Mudwan's superiority complex that clashes with evidence of real life godhood and how that shape the culture and hypocrisy of the Mudwan Kingdom.

(please leave more reviews like this. It is these types of comments that helps me to engage and expands the story, I'm a just a writer with a single mind - sometimes inspiration comes from the reviewers.)

Johavalan: You know, the way you described how magic operates in the sci-fi universe seems to paint them as really op. It I understand it correctly, you present that the mage in the Alliance is practically reality warpers right? That is some crazy stuff and I really lik it.

Can't wait to see the next chapter and how wil the other kindom reacts to this.

A: Well, not entirely reality bending, although a few might be capable of such. The sorcerers of the galactic side has more fine-tuned control over their spells, able to produce diverse range of esoteric spells while the Falmart's mages possesses large power but lacked the precise control of it. You could say the former is like a chisel, small but precise. The latter is like a club, large but crude.

TankLover: This fic is so good. Your self-made universe is so interesting that I atually don't mind it being its own thing if possible.

Also how different is magic between Falmart and the Allience? It is insinuate that their magic is way more advance - but like how advance exactly? From what I understand, sinc the people in the galaxy have better understand of universe they must have some pretty crazy spell and I'm interested to see how insane their magic is.

A: Well first off, thanks. There's a lot of things that still need a lot of work but overall the story is going splendid. I don't know if it's a good idea to even make my own sci-fi setting using my premise though - I mean it is kind of heavily influenced from many preexisting franchises, especially 40k and such.

Also, about the magic... well, like I mentioned on the previous comment. The space mages are like a chisel, the medieval mages are like a club. They can't fully bend the very fabric of reality Wanda Maximoff style but with comprehensive grasp of the four fundamental forces and how chemical elements interact and react - they come close to being one.

1234567890: Damn this is one of those few fanfics that has a special place in my heart. I do hope that this fanfic wont be casted aside and abandon. Thank you for your time and greetings from SE Asia

A: Well, I am grateful that you are entertained by it, even with the flaws that it has. Rest assured that as long as nothing interrupts with my daily life, I probably won't be abandoning this fic anytime soon.

Gilgamesh King of Mongrels: God emperor is that you? Jokes aside I'm liking the universe you've made.

A: Heh, the introduction is kind of an obvious rip-off isn't it? Well, that aside, I'm glad that you like it. Feel free to put in any idea if you want to.

Chapter Six: Rainy Day

Heverest Cavity, Chienpal, Terra

The Heverest Cavity, what was once the grandest mountain of Old Terra amongst the mountain range of Hamazlaia. Now, nothing more than a large, city-sized, crater occupied with countless megastructures and passing atmo-crafts.

Amongst the sprawling structures that encompassed the entire crater, one was an academic establishment, the Hamazlaian Theurgic Institute. Large, colosseum-like construct dwarfed by the skyscrapers that surrounds it. Where over eight thousand undergraduate students attend every Terran year.

Within one such class hall, structured almost similarly to a theatre, the students were placed in wide arching chairs and the professor stood on a podium where he presented his teaching. Since the dawn of sorcery, the title of 'professors' have little to do with scientific studies and research anymore, instead were adopted for academic purposes. Its original meaning long forgotten and abandoned.

One such professor however, Thistle Oakwood, a dryad Fae, was a thaumaturgist. His kind was unique in a sense that their bodies had evolved over the short millennia to be a fusion between floral and faunal lifeform, a result of microbial mutualism.

He possessed lush green leaves above his head in replacement of 'hair'. Half his body had a wooden overgrowth that seeped under his skin, a small venous nutrient stream carried across his system. His hands and legs, complex intertwined vines and wood shaped similarly to a muscular structure.

Thistle had been an educator for thirty years, yet he had seemed to barely aged a decade since then, mostly due to his species' long lifespan. That, as well as the wonders of modern medicine.

Currently, he stood before a class of fifty students, all came from different regions of Terra. The lack of national borders and the nature of graviton propelled vehicles had made such distance less novel. International travel had been made mundane even before the arrival of the Alliance and a trend that will continue for several more millennia.

"Now, does anybody here know about the Etheric Fundamental Structure? Anyone?" Thistle voiced, his speech carried throughout the room. Many hands were raised, it was a rather simple question, one that they had learned since they're Initialites, something that can be closely compared to antiquated Elementary School, although not entirely accurate.

Thistle cracked a smile, while he could pretend to appreciate their enthusiasm, he knew very well that his pupils were just chasing amongst themselves for extra marks. The dryad professor shook his head, he supposed he could entertain them.

The man turned, scanning the room before his eyes landed on a centaur girl who seems to be in her early 20's. Her hair tied to a bun, a crystalline piercing on her ears and holographic tattoo on her arm. If Thistle was his former self, he probably would've gone on an internal berate over the girl but he had learned to not fall unto the victim of assumption.

"You there, Ms Calendris," he didn't exactly remember their name. Luckily, his display lense provided him with an easy scan of their identity. Or at least, what was permitted for him to see.

"The Etheric Fundamental Structure is the study and thesis of the Astral Plane and its basic fundamental principles," she recited what was probably a rehearsed sentence, one that the centaur had heard many times before.

Thistle nodded his head, prompted the girl to sit. "Good. That answer is a little text-tablet standard but I'll let it pass. As you've all learned since your Initialites years or maybe even in your Secondary Scholarite. The Astral Plane, the Realm of the Immaterial, predates the physical dimension. A dimension that we have collectively called 'realspace'. Indicating that our reality, the one we inhabits, is somehow more real, more tangible, than the one we do not."

Holographic projection flickered at his back, unlike the crisp and clear quality of most holo-projector, Thistle was forced to use an antiquated model. A rather standard quality for the Institute. The dryad professor tapped his wooden finger on the hologram. A combination of air pressure and light manipulation that allows intangible projection to have a physical property. The dryad could physically feel the glassy texture of the hologram - the same technology, albeit a tweaked, version of photonic barrier.

"However, we have to ask ourselves whether this is true," Thistle added. He gleamed brightly at how enraptured his pupils were, the subject of thaumaturgy was after all, the main course of their study. "The physical reality, the so-called realspace, exists within a three dimensional spatial axis along with an imaginary fourth. For so long after the Astral Plane was discovered, many thought it to be some sort of a 'fifth' or a 'sixth' dimension when it is proven that - much like realspace - the Astral Plane contains the same spatial dimensional axis. Now tell me, why is this?"

Now, there are less hands being raised. The dryad grinned, it was a difficult question. One that only the prodigious few had probably touched upon. Thistle didn't bother to scan the crowd this time, merely chose a random person to present their answer.

The dryad tilted his head when his fingers absentmindedly pointed to an elf. The 'young' man was probably a century or two older than him, and most definitely knew a lot more than he did. A daily oddity of living in a diverse community of different races.

"The Astral Plane is a separate, independent, parallel reality and not a part of the spatial hierarchy."

"Good!" Thistle beamed, although he had already expected for the elf to answer that one correctly. Their centuries worth of experience didn't amount to nothing after all. "Now, the Astral Plane isn't only the source of all known techno-sorcery and other thaumaturgic phenomena in the universe, it is also a medium of interstellar travel. Now please tell me why that is and how it works?"

The mechanism behind a rift engine was beyond the level of Academites students and more fitted for engineers. However, Thistle was not one to underestimate his tutee, as proven by some of the raised hands present.

"The Ether is a domain in which space and time have little meaning. By 'punching' a hole through dimensional barriers, a ship could enter the Astral Plane, and uses its Rift Wave to traverse through distant stars."

Thistle nodded, mildly disappointed at the bare bone answer given. The Astral Plane was a realm where logic was nonexistent. A reality of absolute chaos, the literal incarnation of discord in the form of a complex existence. Space and time had little meaning within it, along with all other universal principles.

Of course, the Realm of the Immaterial, being a literal chaotic mess, was also a cosmic hazard. Without the protection of the rift field, any base matter in contact within Astral Plane would be distorted and contorted into the anarchic ambience of the Ether. Thus, most ships were designed with a safeguard system to their warp drive. The farther the distance, the deeper a ship must enter the Ethereal Domain, something many star explorers wanted to avoid.

As their lesson continued, Thistle noticed the backdoor of the hall dematerialised. There, stood a man attired in a black coat and grey top hat. The dryad frowned, but resumed along with his class. The mysterious man, an agent of some sort, lowered his black glass. A glint of shimmering glow wisp in his eyes, directly making eye contact with the professor.

An hour after the class ended, Thistle made his way to his office. Not a moment before he was able to plop himself on his favoured chair, the agent appeared.

"How did you get here?" Thistle groaned, paying no mind as the man examined his office.

The agent pulled out a flat, crystalline circle. It had the holographic emblem of Thistle's most hated organisation. The Scrutor Agency. Unlike most of Alliance's various other military organisations, the Scrutor was not a part of the Enforcers. They were made to be discreet, those meant to work in the shadow. The intelligence and security service of the Alliance, their own little secret police.

"Theurgic Researcher, Rune-seer, Agent Asper. The Scrutorian Authorium requests your service," the man, now Thistle, realised to be a satyr, monotoned.

"Don't use that name so freely here," snapped Thistle, feeling his second heart beating faster than his first. The former, for transporting photosynthesised nutrients and the latter, for bloodstream.

"The entire office has been implanted with a noise suppression field. No one can hear us," the agent said.

"How did you - oh right, of course." Thistle groaned, pushing away the data files on his desk, the holographic papers automatically dematerialised and positioned itself neatly besides him. "I thought I told you all that I've quit? What part of that word you don't understand?"

"The Agency acknowledges, but this is different. We don't need Agent Asper, we need Rune-seer Oakwood." The agent exclaimed. He peered beyond Thistle's shoulder, where he caught glimpse of many academic related folders.

Thistle Oakwood, currently an educator in the Hamazlaian Theurgic Institute, once the field agent of Scrutor Agency, furrowed. The dryad paused, his leaf overgrowth above his head swayed as he slowly turned his head. "What is it this time?"

"I presume you have heard about Clover," the satyr kept the conversation short. His brisk wording and stoic expression was difficult to read.

"You want me involved in that?" Thistle turned to face the man, the dryad slowly appraised the satyr.

"The... Gate is some kind of a warp-bridge to an alternate universe. It is one of the most complex we ever seen and the most vitasily dense too. Currently, there is no one in Sol that is better in interdimensional studies than you. Oh, and we also needed your assistance in studying this," the agent pulled out a holographic projection of a blue hued crystal.

For a moment Thistle frowned, uninterested, until he realised it was an arcanite. His eyes glazed at the mineral, examining its theurgical content. The astral index of it was dense, extremely so. As his eyes carefully read through the details, his face paled as his lips quivered.

In an instant, Thistle whipped his head to face the satyr. "How much of this is classified?"

"All of them," the agent replied tersely.

"One hundred thousand index? In a single crystal?" Murmured the dryad in disbelief.

"It is the same result with all the samples we've gathered, some of them could potentially produce over two million rune-code. Enough to conjure five hundred thousand spells in a single string program. You understand well enough don't you?"

There were a lot of parallels between spellcrafting and digital programming. The malleable nature of magic meant that it could be easily altered. Magic, in its unrefined, raw state, was rather chaotic and unpredictable. The ethereal realm of the Astral Plane was often brimmed with ceaseless wraith-storm, an anarchic whirlwind of arcane tempest that pervaded within the Ether. However, despite its unbridled chaos, vitas could be conjured into realspace in a controlled manner via the manifestation of runes, which were sigils designed to reshape spells into their desired effects.

A single arcanite usually allows for only several hundred rune-codes embedded within its crystalline structure, a limitation imposed by the metaphysical law of the universe.

"Five hundred thousand rune-code?" Thistle tried to suppress his awe. The possibility of it was practically endless, elevating their species several centuries in matters of months. His mind raced with several hypothetical techno-sorcery previously thought impossible, a growing sense of excitement slowly festering at the back of his psyche.

"You understand the implications don't you? The Agency wanted someone they could trust to work on this project, if the intel is proven to be accurate - Terra might be of greater interest for the Alliance."

Thistle frowned, "is it already not?"

"Let's be frank, Professor. Most Predecessor tech in Terra had been uncovered and reverse-engineered. While this world's arcanite production is amongst the largest in the Alliance's asset, it is not even close to top five in some uncharted worlds outside our reach. The novelty of this planet has lost over time, especially after Death War. The Gate may just be Terra's option to bump up its favour to the Hierarchs," the agent said.

"You say that as if I give a shit about Terra's position in the Alliance," Thistle grumbled.

"Are you not?" The agent coolly replied, much to the ire of the dryad.

"I belong in this wall, the Academy. I am a tutor, not a fighter." Thistle muttered.

"Your past record would prove otherwise. Besides, this is hardly a battle. We only require your insight, not your strength."

The dryad paused, his eyes glazed at the holographic crystal. "Promise me that this one wouldn't take more than a year."

Alnus Hill, Falmart

Kaius couldn't recall anymore however long it had been this battle prolonged. He looked up, the fiery trajectile, massive javelins of heat and light soared in the air and hurled to their unseen enemies like hunting hawks.

They were taunting him, the king realised. At any moment, one of those eldritch eruptions could be cast upon his body and he would be dead. He had seen how effective, or rather ineffective, even the greatest mage-barrier could hold against such a terrifying barrage.

Swirling mass of dust accompanied with flickering tendrils of energy whenever it struck them. There wasn't an indication, no sign, not even a wisp of scent or light as a warning. One second there were legions, and another, there was only a large, molten crater.

Kaius whimpered, his men, even in the heat of all this, not a single one retreated. Their conviction to him and the kingdom was something he would normally feel proud of, but now only fills him with dread. He was not the Emperor of Sadera, he was not the Lion of Elbe or the Talon of Alguna - he was the King of Mudwan, the ruler of his people. He valued his men as much as he valued his kingdom.

They were fathers, brothers, sons of others. They were people as much as they were warriors, their blades and their shields were made to fight for their nation but their arms and legs were meant for their families.

Kaius let out a cry of rage, despair and anguish. He was leading his men against a suicidal crusade. There was no victory to be taken, no honour or glory - only death. The man peeked beyond his earthly wall, in spite of it all, the hill was still a serene meadow. There was nothing but green expanse at the peak, where strange fortresses emplaced and the Gate located.

Even now, his greatest guard mage wavered, their face paled as their eyes bulged. They were at the precipice of unconsciousness, any moment longer and he knew that the effect would be fatal. Thus Kaius, with a heavy heart, grabbed the horn dangling on his hip. It was a horn for battle, to invigorate strength to his men, to boost their morale in combat. However, it served a different purpose now.

Kaius blew into the horn, air funnelled into the cavity. It was not the victorious blare of battle but a call for retreat.

It was met with shock at first, many men shivered as the sound carried to their ears, a momentary disbelief crossed their face. It was not long until they slowed their attack, men of great numbers hastened their footsteps as they finally ran. Some dropped their swords, others stumbled.

Few still fought, their conviction unwavered, their spirit undying. Those men died, their bodies splattered, armours and flesh melted much as it dissolved. Some were left a mangled mess, only left with charred bones, molten iron and boiling flesh.

Kaius watched as they fled, an entire sea of men turned the tide of their advance. He gazed upon the hill, its serenity mocked him, taunting him. The king's grip on his sword tightened, his heart drummed as his legs quivered.

"Gods..." He murmured, the truth no longer veiled from him. Kaius let a mirthless smirk emerge on his lips. "We are fighting against gods."

"S- Sire, we should go now!" One of his guard mage exclaimed panickally, still holding the earth barrier.

Kaius shook his head and glanced at his sorcerer. "Nay, you shall all leave me be. I will not fall till my blade at least has a taste of their blood."

"M- Milord-"

"Leave now, that is my command to you. Leave and to never return," Kaius uttered. "I will face my penance."

Amidst the thundering plasma, the piercing pulsers, the roaring voltex and shearing lasers, their enemies eventually fell. Their previous vigour lost, their back turn to flee.

Hendrick still blasted them, slaying dozens of the soldiers. The orders to halt had yet to be made, their weapons still growled over their foe. Hesitation never crossed his mind, only utter concentration of his duty.

They were the enemy, despite how weak, pathetic and pitiful they were. They were undeserving of sympathy, only sorrow.

Under the guide of his visor, the knights seemed less like people anymore, more like outlined caricatures. Their exploding head, torn arms and pierced torso were the only reminder of their living nature.

It was thirty minutes later that their numbers were left to only a staggering few, their bodies too mangled to be considered alive anymore, even with their still beating hearts and twitching limbs.

"Stand guard, hold fire. Let the droids sweep the place," Hendrick's helm bleeped.

His finger twitched, an instantaneous mental command ceased the incessant electric growl of his blaster. His Piercer whined before it purred, the internal coolant system soothed the rising heat of its core. The kitsune stayed in his position, his eyes sometimes trailed to a few stray shots from a couple others before their assault completely ended.

Hendrick remained motionless, but ever vigilant as his eyes maintained upon the parameters of the hill. Great blackened craters tainted the idyllic ground. The green meadow obscured with mutilated, melted bodies and armours. The drones flew near the pool of flesh and blood, incapacitating few that still breathed.

Though cruel it may be to cull those cling to life, their maimed flesh and exposed entrails left to be displayed, only to be eradicated by the drones - it was a mercy. Only those of the strongest will and the strongest mind were spared, for their conscience would be of valuable asset for the telepathica-espers.

The slaughter continued till the sun drifted beyond the horizon and the sky grew dark as little slivers of crimson slowly shifted to a soft bluish hue.

"Threat is no longer present. Cool your blasters and return to base. Your mission has ended, good job troopers."

Hendrick allowed himself an exhale, shifting himself from his position. The thin photonic layers of his exosuit repelled away the dirt from his armoured carapace. The man inspected his weapon, which was still in pristine condition.

Far beyond the hill, high above a cliff, a company of horsemen slowly trotted the edge. Their factions varied, their loyalties differed but all of them were under the same banner of war.

They were a group of six men, all gathered from different legions of different kingdoms. Their armours varied as much as their banners, every single one of them equally uneased by the presence of others, only silence reigned in the entire journey.

As they made their way to the cliff, eyes drawn to the field, the men were met with an appalling and shocking revelation.

"What in the name of Hardy!?" One scout uttered, his face paled.

"This... needed to be reported to the kings," another chimed in.

Allied Camp, Falmart

The crackling sounds of bonfire was accompanied with the occasional hollow chatter of armoured knights. They were legion, an army of twenty two kingdoms - or say they say. Despite the claims, the only one participating would be the Great Five, the only named kingdoms and the only one relevant in the eye of the Empire for their great tithe and offering.

There were numerous tents that scattered the land, each crudely made from cloth and wooden poles. Some were erected with the use of magic. One such tent, larger than most, was the command camp. Emerald green drape covered the tent, with the square marking of meaningless motifs at its plain surface. Within, where kings gathered to discuss.

The report of Mudwan's defeat was made secret, but even they weren't foolish enough to keep its secrecy for long. It was a news that shocked many, but not all - after all, it was the same enemy that defeated the imperial expedition. However, it was not Mudwan's loss that was most surprising, it was their destruction - or so claimed the messengers.

"As you have all heard from the scouts, Mudwan was defeated," King Duran of the Elbian Kingdom declared with a solemn tone. He was not particularly close to the man, but even he acknowledged the deserving respect of the foreign king. Kaius' (assumed) death was a tragedy.

"How can this be? He has an army of sorcerers, six hundreds of them to be exact!" The King of Alguna argued, expressing his shock and displeasure. "He commands men of iron will, he has with him a legion of arcane wielders. He has the force of nature in his hands!"

"He was defeated by the hands of barbarians. How embarrassing," Duke Ligu of League Principality murmured.

"Hold your tongue, Kaius is an honoured man. He has led to a six victory in battle!" Hissed the Algunian King.

"He employs wizards in battle, there is nothing honourable in witchcraft," the Duke argued back.

"Gentlemen, please cease this. We are the Allied Army, the Unified Kingdom. Our strength lies upon our cooperation, we are a union, not bickering savages." Duran remarked, drawing attention to himself. The one eyed king sighed as he rested his hand upon the table. "Mudwan's defeat is surprising, yes - but it would be a lie to say that it is unexpected. We knew nothing of our foe to make judgements of their strength."

"They are barbarians, nothing more," scoffed the Algunian King.

"Not that I disagree, but even the most crudest of barbarians wield a sharpened blade don't they?" Duran stated. "Barbarous our enemies might be, but we cannot deny their strength."

"Are we fighting a bunch of orcs?" The Algunian King finally muttered.

"That... is a possibility, though if that were the case, I doubt Mudwan would be so soundly defeated," the League Principality muttered.

"Hmmm, it seems like this new foe will be a greater challenge than anticipated. I, for one, accept this challenge," the Algunian King declared. His fist thumped against his chest, a wide grin crossed his face. "I suppose our gathered strength is needed for this occasion."

"I... am uncertain," Duran murmured as he gazed at the map. "How many scouts have we sent? How many spies? Yet none of them returned. We don't know who is our enemy, how they operate and what is their capability. This is a blind battle and I don't like it."

"Any battle is a blind battle no matter how prepared we are. No fight is certain, no war is set in stone or written in scrolls. This is no different," Duke Ligu of League Principality exclaimed. "Besides, we have the might of twenty two kingdoms. We have the strength of hundreds and thousands of men, beasts and sorcery at our side. No matter what savagery, what prowess or gifts granted to our foe - they are not invincible."

"Aye, as much as a surprise it is that Mudwan is defeated. I very much doubt our enemy would have the strength to survive another attack. They are weakened now, more than ever. If the assault from the Imperial expedition hadn't severely diminished their numbers, then Mudwan had obviously made it even more severe for them," the Algunian King uttered.

Duran sighed, it was times like this he was reminded why he had joined the Allied Army. The man chuckled, drawing his gaze away from the rest as he closed his eyes. "I suppose worrying about it would be foolish eh? However still, I will reinforce the rearguard and oversee the battle from behind to gauge our enemy's strength."

"Hah, that's more like it!" Boomed the King of Alguna. His fist slammed enthusiastically on the table. "I will take the front, Kaius is kind enough to leave another hundred of his sorcerers under my command, combined with the capability of my wyvern legions, I will push forward and break the enemy's bulwark."

"My men are known to be amongst the best archers, we will be flanking from the sides and enclosed our foe from wide range, perhaps push them to a corner." The League Principality's Duke said. "Though my cavalry may not be as impressive as you-" he gestured to the Algunian King. "-but I still have a great number of them, enough to overwhelm the enemy force."

"The auxiliary mages will act as support, though I should keep them far from my men... they are less tolerant with sorcerers," the King of Alguna expressed his slight displeasure.

"As they should, I can't understand how anyone would find them acceptable. Their powers might as well be demonic manifestations for all we know," Duke Ligu argued.

"Enough. This is not the time nor the place for petty squabbles, Kaius is dead. His men, defeated. This is not an enemy to be taken lightly, whether you believed in the power of sorcery or not, it is undeniable that his battlemages are only second to those of the Empire - some of them, even, are greater." Duran muttered, drawing the gazes of them all. Many of them were war generals, high nobles and commanding warriors - only Mudwan, Elbe and Alguna had arrived with their king, with the League Principality, bringing their high duke.

Duran smiled a little at the sight. This was the strength of twenty two kingdoms, the might of several states. They had only lost ten thousand while the enemy probably had lost more.

The Lion of Elbe inhaled before he continued. "We here gathered as twenty two kingdoms, some of us are previously enemies, some allies. It matters not. The Empire has gathered us all so that we can share our strength and fight onward, to unite us as one! Your king may wear a different crown than mine, your land may be farther from mine - but we share this world. We share its gifts and its curse. Today, all of us, we will share this glory. Forget your petty concerns, forget your needless worries. Prove to me, and your kingdom. Prove to your king and the gods. Prove them all why you have been chosen for this!"

The rest cheered along, answering Duran's call. The King of Alguna smirked whilst the Duke of the Principality sighed.

High above the ground, below the veiled clouds, where birds flocked and flew, a single entity peered down below. It had wings, yet both of which were rigid. It had an eye, yet unblinking and soulless. Its body carved from metal, its mind conjured from the Immaterium, a cascade of digital construct meld with spiritual conscience.

So small and so frail, yet very deadly in its application.

Unnoticed by the eyes down below, the metal being peeked those on the ground as they leisurely enjoyed their moments, ignorant of the ogling beast. Behind the eye of the unliving creature, beneath its soulless and mindless awareness, underneath the layers of algorithm, calculation and equations where its action was controlled and monitored by its master, those who were made of flesh and bones.

Vando was amongst those who observed the scene. The bird-drone flawless ocular device allowed for great view of the land, unveiled their enemy in its entirety. If it was a normal battle, such a tactic would be futile - their presence would be long detected, the drone would be long shot dead. However, their enemy were ignorant of such device, entirely vulnerable to what was probably the most simplest of tactic.

"They are making a move," stated one of the operators, her monotonous voice the results of decades of training drilled into her mind. Despite the peculiarity of this world, it still hadn't deviated from the standard procedure of their common tasks. "Six - no, nine head targets are gathering their forces. Potential combat magus about... five hundred of them."

Vando frowned, still vividly recalling the event of the previous battle, if it could be called such. Their sorcerers were powerful, extremely so. It would take an ordinary magus considerable amount of concentration just to produce a small fireball at hand, yet these natives could propel flaming javelins that could damage the outer shielding of the Aegis suit. Anymore and they would prove to be quite the problem.

Baffling as it may be, the dwarf could only guess the implications this world could offer in the far future. The general extinguished the notion from his head, that was not important. Not now.

"They are heading towards us, huh?" Vando sighed, shaking his head. The man turned to face the door, slowly sauntered his way to the exit. "Keep an eye on them, alert the other Birdies."

"Sir?" One of them addressed.

Vando reached for the door, the solid wall dematerialised, nanoparticles morphed away into an opening. "We can't wait for them to reach us anymore, we need to bring the fight to them. I'll be with the other generals, keep your gaze steady. I would rather not clean the mess in our turf, understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!" The rest chorused.

As Vando walked, making his way to the main base, he was met with the Guardian of Light. His brilliant azure eyes were always disconcerting, there was just something un-fae behind them, like the swirling cloud of etheric nebulae. Beautiful but terrifying.

"What's the progress?" The neko quickly inquired.

The dwarf kept his head upright, his pace steady as the demi-god flanked to his side. "More of them coming here it seems like. We need to bring the fight to their territory. Much less risk to our land and we don't have to deal with the mess."

The apostle frowned a little, a subtle expression that the dwarf could clearly see. That however was replaced with a resigned exhale. "This is going to be a bloodbath."

"Fortunately, not for our men," Vando remarked. "I rather be branded as a murderer than let the death of my troops be under my hand, Guardian. Paving the path for the living, with the body of the dead as they say."

Lucas stared into the horizon, where the sky grew dim and the cloud parted above them. "Right."

Personnel Utility Barrack, Alnus Hill, Falmart

At a small section of the hill, separated from other facilities, were rows of cubical structures each positioned symmetrically. The white, smooth and porcelain-like surface of the buildings were a contrast to the lush green of its environment.

Amongst the thousands of unit barracks, Hendrick sat in one along with his avian teammate. The kitsune stirred from his chair, his eyes glued on the holo-monitor. It had been three hours since the last battle, with two of those spent cleaned and briefed.

"Sending letters at folks back home?" Jordan commented from his nano-weaved hammock.

"It's my mother," Hendrick replied as he typed away. "Y'know how mom's are. She's worried sick about me, so I have to give her an essay to tell her I'm fine."

The harpy shifted, the micromachines warped along with his movements. "Your family lived in Terra now don't they?"

"Venus, actually. They like being close to the sun, and didn't give me much room to debate about that," the kitsune chuckled. The monitor blinked as Hendrick pressed enter, the text message was automatically transmorphed to be sent into the quasi-tether, the information traversing through the Ether before reaching its destination under split seconds.

There was a silent pause passed between them, the crystal clock ticked in the background. Jordan was the first to break the silence with a heavy sigh, his wings ruffled under his movements, eyes drawn to the window outside.

"There is going to be another fight soon," the avian uttered calmly. "I heard there's about a few hundred thousand more."

"So? All we need to do is just blast 'em back to their land," Hendrick exclaimed, gesturing a finger gun to his friend.

"Don't act like that. Their fire missile is strong enough to disrupt the suit's shield that is... y'know, meant to withstand heat?" Jordan murmured.

"Jordy, we've fought them two on one and not a single of us suffered a casualty, not even any minor injuries."

The harpy tilted his head as his brow arched, "point taken, but still. I doubt that you're as casual as you pretending to be right now."

"The frequency of sorcerers in this world is roughly less than twenty percent, more than ten... even the elves with their attuned mind bullshit, have like only two percent probability. That's not even mentioning the fact that their vitas is very dense, their spells are very potent." Hendrick frowned.

"Well, I heard that there's a plan for Reaper shipment in the future. Hopefully we can get more spellclotter and runebane here, I don't feel particularly comfortable being in a world full of archomagus."

"I doubt that shipment will be in effect until the next three months. If there's anything I've learned about Sol, is that barely anything can get through."

Command Base, Alnus Hill, Falmart

"How's the prisoner?" Lucas frowned.

The room was brightly lit, the various luminate minerals placed evenly above the ceiling. Behind the glassinite wall, where their prisoner was kept, two combat droids stood impassively near the wall. Their unblinking eyes staring directly at their captive, unmoving and unflinching as he yelled incessant insults.

"Can't keep his fuckin' mouth shut," grumbled the dwarven general.

An esper entered the room, her silky white dress and ominously glowing eyes illuminated the interrogation room. Her very presence drew attention, flickering with psychic powers. The man paused, momentarily stunned before his face twisted to an ugly scowl.

"Let me go at this instant witch!" He growled, struggling against his polymedium chains. "You dare hold me here!? Do you know who I am? Do you know what I am capable of?"

The esper was unperturbed, she calmly walked herself near the captive and chose to sat adjacent from him. Her serene expression brought nothing but unease to the man.

"Then tell me, what are you capable of?" She inquired, her mockery hidden beneath her honeyed voice. "A sorcerer of terrible might? The personal guardian of the king? Is that right, Mister... Cassius?"

The man paused, his eyes bulged, hesitation crossed his face before it morphed to a scowling growl. "How did you know that?"

"I know many things, Cassius. Even your deepest secrets," exclaimed the esper with a wry smile.

The mage frowned, his previous outburst subdued. "Then you must know of my magic, wench. Are you that foolish to think that you can keep me here?"

"Then try," the esper challenged. "Try to use your magic. I implore you."

The sorcerer paused, an inkling of hesitation emerged on his face. His frown deepened, his voice dropped to a lower growl. "What did you do?"

"Absolutely nothing my dear," smiled the esper.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" He screamed, thrashing yet again from his constraint. His eyes filled with desperation, a hint of fear hidden in his raging tone. He flexed his arm again and again, desperately trying to conjure the power of the Incorporeum to no avail. "Y- you witch!"

"Now now, let's not get too hasty," the esper flicked her finger and in an instant, the man was held back. His arms forced to the armrest. There was a glint of maliciousness in her eyes but it was quickly suppressed, regaining her composure. "I will ask you a series of questions and you will answer them. After all, your mind is a jumbled mess that I cannot make much sense of."

"What?"

"First, where do you come from? What is your relation with the Empire?" The esper uttered.

"You are a fool to believe I will answer that," the sorcerer barked. His resistance had less strength to it, only managing a slight twitch of his arms.

Behind the black walls that separated them and their observer, Lucas found himself frowning at the sight. He could admire his stubbornness, if it were not driven by ignorance.

"Why didn't she just mind scan him?" Lucas turned to the dwarf.

Vando sighed, his bio-cigar puffed in his lips, the organic soot whirled under his heavy breath. "Well, as y'know, psychics don't do well with magic. His mind is clouded in thick vitas, even with the suppression void collar 'round his neck. We can't really pull out deep info from glimpse and glimmer."

"Why not knock him unconscious?" Lucas continued his inquiry.

"If he's not talking for the next fifteen minutes then we will do just that, Your Holiness."

Lucas flinched when he heard a loud whack, his head immediately spun, eyes squinted at the sight. The man was slammed to a wall by an unseen force, his face pale with shock and fear. There was a loud thud when he was brought to his knees, a definite wet crack when he tumbled. The man cried out in pain and rage.

"Y- you dare-!"

He was flicked again, this time slammed against the ceiling before forcefully dragged to the ground where the man screamed and whimpered. There was a pool of blood that stained the floor, an oozing crimson slowly painted the room. The esper was still calm, the lack of visible reaction only served to intimidate the chained sorcerer.

The black haired kobold kneeled, levelling her eyes to the man with a subtle curve to her lips. "Now, can you answer my question?"

"Brutal," Lucas exclaimed casually, showing only the slightest of indifference in his tone.

"W- we were from the Allied Army! The vassal force of Sadera!" Whimpered the man, recoiled as he felt the pain in his chest. "O- our kings were summoned for this battle by the emperor himself."

"Vassal force?" Muttered Vando, the frown on his face was shared with the apostle. The dwarven general tapped his wrist. "You can end the interrogation now Nuveile, we got what we wanted."

They marched with two hundred ninety thousand footprints that toiled the land. Their varied insignia displayed proudly, with their shield and their spear, with their sword and their bow they marched onward and shuddered the land.

The lumbering beasts were dragged along, their innate savagery made it easy to convince them for battle as they hunger for blood - more so than their human masters. The green skinned goblins, the hog-like orcs, the tall, lanky trolls and the hulking form of the ogres. Most were not armed, their strength alone could crush a human skull. Amongst their ranks, the cloaked beast tamer stood with their whips and their spells, none of the creatures dare to defy their master, none had tried.

The ground rumbled at their footfalls, each step thundered the ground. Many wyverns glide lazily on the sky, conserving their energy for the incoming conflict. Some had taken it upon themselves to brandish their blade in the midst of marching, heart filled with excitement and vigour.

Amongst them, the kings and generals that led the stride, they rode on noble steed, clad in heavy armour. The sheen of their metallic plate display not only the pride of their land but the strength of their army.

"This will be a six hour march," the legatus of Alguna informed his king, flanked to his side by the flag bearers and guard sorcerers. "We will be perching at the Halg Cliff before sunset. The Duke of Principality had readied a few scout of his own."

"What of the Yugriff Army? I thought they had a scout mage don't they?" The royal blood of Alguna inquired, his gaze remained locked to his front, staring at the green expanse of the land.

"The Yugriffian commander is in conflict with the Harterian general. The League Principality has taken it upon themselves to cease the skirmish," said the man.

The King of Alguna shook his head exasperatedly. He had expected Duran's speech would at least put a pause to their menial anonymity, but perhaps he had hoped too much. Even in the face of a common enemy, conflict was still present amongst the different kingdoms, their distrust and hatred ran deep for millennia before even the Empire's intervention.

It had been Sadera's goal, the king was aware. It was the Empire's method to keep them divided. For their unity threatened the Empire, if not much then maybe a bit - and what little resistance the Allied Army could offer would be perceived as a threat regardless.

The Algunian ruler could only sigh and hide his contempt. The fractured state of the Unified Kingdom needed to end, this useless charade needed to halt. Perhaps, if he were to be wishful, the Gate may be the road to pave way for unity and mayhaps an end to their constant strife. That, or perhaps this Gate would only served to be another step for their ceaseless infighting.

The wyverns flocked above, their winter coated scales glistened under the light, some glimmered brighter than others, displaying the Algunian pride. Half of their riders were sorcerers, others spearmen - but regardless of their profession, they were all honoured men to steer the sky beast whose power belonged in the heavens, amongst the clouds.

Alguna was the only vassal nation to rival in aerial power with Sadera itself, not in quantity but quality. Each of the winged beasts were bred carefully, their bloodline preserved and nurtured. Some were even claimed to be the result of ancient necromancy but such accusations were without merit. The white scaled, Snowdale wyverns and the ebony coated, Shadeveil wyverns were amongst the two most used in the battlefield. The former known for its agility and speed, the latter for its strength and endurance.

The Algunian King briefly glanced back, where his eyes scanned over a few hundred thousand armoured warriors strode behind. His gaze wandered far, eventually reaching to the distant crimson swarm of the Elbian legion. Their warriors were not from commoner regiments but instead were entirely provided by the noble military houses whose entire purpose was to breed and train soldiers from a very young age.

It was a tradition that remained unquestioned for centuries for they indeed had proven their worth in countless battlefields. For generations, Elbian men were said to be the pinnacle of true strength, said to even at times match the tenacity and endurance of the bunny warriors.

The king grinned, anticipating to see if they lived up to such rumours.

They walked for hours, their legs yet to ache. Even Flare seems to approve of their crusade as the sun draped itself behind the thick clouds, only letting a sliver of light through. The journey was loud as it was silent. Not a word shared, nor a glance was spared. The ceaseless chorus of their heavy footsteps echoed the empty, green land.

Their conscience dulled over time, their mind wandered to menial thoughts, occupying themselves from the repeated chants of their boots and the clutter of their armours. As the army walked, the cloud began to thicken, the soft creamy blanket darkened as more of it coalesced into a larger mass. The air around them coiled, stirring gentle gale to soothe the heat.

"It seems like it will be raining, My Liege," the legatus of Alguna uttered, hiding the discontent in his voice. His steed grunted as cold air disturbed its body.

The king furrowed, it will be a hard battle. His eyes darted to the ground, hard and solid. The royalty sighed at the unexpected event. "A little rain will not stop us."

"Should I informed the sorcerers to-"

"Nay, let them conserve their mana. Tell the men to be ready for rain, a little shower will not impede our advance will it?" The king glanced at his subject with a smirk.

"No, it shall not." the legatus muttered just as the first droplet pattered against his helm.

Duran grunted at the sight of the blackened sky, Flare's Breath loomed over them, a few distant thunder grumbled within the swirling mass. It was not long when rainfall showered over him and his men, very few were unaffected by it, some made their annoyance known.

He was not alien to rainy battle, many conflicts he fought were under stormy weather. Where strong gale pulled their drape, where heavy downpour cloud their vision and amongst the thunderclap, were the bark of yelling warriors and the clash of iron blades. Duran smiled, even chuckled, at the memory.

The slick, cold water soaked his drape and wetted his armour plate, some of it dripped from the rim of his helm. The Elbian King didn't shiver under the cold, he relished in it. The incessant assault from raindrops pattered against his gauntlet, some droplet of water slid at the surface of his shining sword, it rolled from the blade to the hilt.

The harsh breeze was not strong, but potent enough to flap cloths and flags. Most mages found their head exposed to the elements as their cowl wildly danced on their nape, revealing the scowl on some of their faces.

"This will be a cold day," commented one of Duran's legatus, there was a smile etched on his face, both hands manning his horse. "A shame, I do not wish to taint my leather pad. It was bestowed by you after all."

"It will be stained in blood anyway Orphil, don't let a little rain sour your mood," Duran quipped.

"Oh of course not, My Lord." The legatus slightly bowed, water sliding at the edge of his helm. "I suppose this is a blessing from Flare, my steed does need a bathe. This coincidence can only be a miracle."

"Tell me, Legatus Orphil. What do you think of our enemy?" Duran questioned, raising his voice in the midst of the unceasing choir of rainfall, each small water droplet splattered against the hard soil, slowly softening the very land they walked.

"Barbaric, savage and weak," the man said confidently.

Duran paused, the light downpour drummed against the earth and their armours. "No, Orphil, tell me what you really think of them. I do not judge, I only want an opinion."

The legatus blinked, his gaze slowly wandered to the land beyond. His vision slightly obscured, the distant ground seemed nothing more than grey silhouette under the dark sky and swathe of droplets.

"They are strong," the man whispered, although even in rain, Duran was able to hear that clearly.

"Many of our enemies in the past are strong," Duran muttered.

"Aye, but this... this feels different. We haven't heard of Mudwan and their fate, only hearsay from the scouts... and I find it hard to believe their wild tale," exclaimed the legatus.

Duran raised a brow, his horse neighed slightly, clearly irritated under the rain. "Why so?"

"I do not wish to offend My Lord, but if I am to be honest, they speak of nonsense. Alnus is a meadow, how can the ground... erupt, as they claimed?"

The King of Elbe let silence drew, their footfalls drowned beneath the heavy thrumming of raindrops. He wryly smiled, an expression that did not escape the legatus. "Our eyes... are a weakness, Orphil. Sometimes we can see things that are not there, for our mind is wild as it is limited. What they say may not be true but it also might not be a lie."

"I'm afraid I am not a scholar, My Liege. Poetic words elude me."

"Worry not, it is nothing to be concerned of Legate," Duran uttered under his breath just as thunder growled in the distance. His gaze lifted to the sky, the multitudes of droplets hailed from heaven. Like tiny arrows they struck the sod and his men, shattered upon impact, fulminated into a splash of beads.

Amidst the subdued thunder, the constant spate and the never ending grate of their armours, Duran found it oddly peaceful. There was serenity in the chaos of nature, even as his face volleyed by rain and his body soaked in coldness.

Miles Away

The air hummed as the graviton engine whirred, dragging a large hunk of metal forward. The Predator, an orichalcum plated, armoured vehicle. With a destructor turret atop its looming body. A mystechnological wonder forged from the flame of war and perfected under the weave of time.

Wielding the enigmatic power of volatile etheric energy, contained within a thin layer of mystical container, the aptly named the hellfire wraith shell was a nightmare incarnate. Cosmic energy dragged from the chaos of the Ether. Myriads of volatile, destructive, alchemic elements kept within a stasis chamber where nothing can escape, not even the flow of time. The aforementioned chamber, holding within it the very fabric of hell itself would then be launched at sub-light speed before the outer layer of the shell collapsed and unleashed the devil inside.

There were plenty of accounts of reports describing the horror of such a devastating weapon, the wraith shell was a technology founded fifty years ago and one that had been refined over the decades.

Flanked to its side were the myriads of infantry vehicles built in Luna, whether it be the Ursa, the Anguis and several others of its varied kind. Hendrick and his squad were amongst those rode in their armoured mount.

Their forces were limited, only two thousand men and women coupled with a few hundred battle droids in their midst. With garrisons, five hundred each, spread across the field farther from each other meant for maximum coverage. For Hendrick, it was a shame that none of their aerial vehicles had yet made it through the Gate and were likely still to be debated for the next few weeks.

Him and a few other Ursa whirred under the light rainstorm, their vehicle rolled as wind and rain battered against the plasteel hull. The choir of their engine subdued under the growl of thunder and the batter of downpour. The trees and the grass swayed in the rhythm of the wind, strong gales swirled and howled. The sky, grey and dark, yet the land was still graced with slivers of light.

"Is that... water?" Aerulle voiced her amusement.

"Hasn't seen rain before?" Jordan commented, holding his Voltcaster dearly.

The elf stirred from her seat, her eyes wandered the darkened sky. "I've only been to ecumenopolis and throng world - natural weather is extremely rare. Hell, when did the last time Terra had a real rain anyway?"

"How about you, Enigma? Haven't you been to Venus before?" Jordan turns to face the silent kobold.

The Reaper didn't budge from her position, the stoic serenity of her eyes had always been unnerving. Her eyes flicked, the deep crimson of her iris reflected. "Maelstrom is common where I was raised, this is nothing."

"Guys, heads up. The drone is picking up activity," Hendrick proclaimed. The dashboard bleeped, holographic projection shifted as the alert was displayed. Their enemies were numerous, several files of thousand men formed in a uniform formation. Their armours glistened under the rain, the thick downpour did little to impede their march.

"Shit, near three hundred thousand of them?" Jordan murmured, though the image was not clearly displayed, the sheer number present from the monitor was enough to reveal their position. The wyverns flocked in en masse, their wings widespread and lazy, unbothered by the rain.

"All unit, enemy is in bound. Expected engagement in an hour, there is a slope on their position. All brigade spread out, your assigned position will be marked in your visor and your vehicle - prepare to disembark, turn on the barrier if the rain is bothering you."

Hendrick mumbled unintelligibly to himself, the vehicle churned as it quickly made its way to its position, away from the others. For a moment he waited, only the sound of the humming engine and the constant patter of the rain accompanied them.

"Check your blaster and keep 'em hot. We will be facing a numerically superior foe - so aim for centre mass and maximum effect. You might want to keep the guns at low power for faster recharge. I doubt their armour could even withstand standard pellet-slinger so don't worry about resistance," Hendrick exclaimed. "Most importantly, keep them far and keep them back. The mobile artillery will handle the wyverns. Are we clear?"

"I'm ready," Jordan stated, wielding his Voltcaster.

"We're all clear, Captain. Hit the panel and we're out," Aerulle added.

It was quick, not a second spared as the door slid and their foot alighted. The plated boots slammed against the wet ground, the calm puddle quaked under the harsh impact. Hendrick hastily unslung his Piercer, its marble white surface glimmered as it was quickly soaked in water, a slight drip gathered at the rim of the rectangular barrel. His suit's shielding flickered under constant barrage of mizzle, repelling away the liquid from the polymeric-metal cover.

His blaster dimly glowed, its silvered lip coiling in etheric energy, channelling the wavering ribbon of magnetic field.

Hendrick found himself staring at his surroundings, his previously bright white armour had shifted itself to muddled green, a camo system shared amongst his combat kin. Under the hailstorm and the growling thunder, barely any of them were visible, only the slight glint of their armour were the only indication of their presence.

The Ursa whirred behind him, its automated defense turret churned to life, glaring at a distance imperceivable to his mortal eyes. He crouched along with his squad as they slowly prone forward, their footfalls deafened by the constant choir of rain. If they were not in the midst of war, he would find it to be therapeutic.

The rain did little to quell the distant chirp of grav engine as it rolled near, green clad fae alighted their vehicle and immediately lowered themselves amongst the field of grass, the constant wet hid them well. Hendrick tilted his head, his HUD flickered and revealed the positions of his allies, a slight outline unveiled several thousands hidden in plain sight, amidst the lightning and downpour.

Everything beyond several hundred feet of them were a blur, only grey silhouettes. The trees waved, their branches wildly writhed under the rhythm of the wind, few dead leaves swirled in the air and glided along the gale.

Wet scent pervaded the suit's chemical sensor, with only a portion of it relayed directly into Hendrick's own brain. There was a slight minty, fresh whiff to it, the smell of mud and puddle. His tail flexed, water flicked as he did so.

"Enemy forces won't be here till the next hour," Hendrick relayed the information to his squad, the crispy clear voice carried through their communicators. He held his Piercer forward, a pair of legged stumps protruded beneath its rectangular barrel. In the dim darkness of day, beneath the rolling thick cloud, his sight obscured in layers of heavy rainfall.

His ear flicked when Jordan crouched to his side, eyeing the rest of the Enforcers. The harpy's Voltcaster chimed, the electrical whine of its energetic coil whirred and writhed. Drawing the very essence of the Ether itself, chaotic energy dragged and contained within realspace soon to be unleashed upon their foe.

The spiritual intelligence that resided in their suit altered their vision, what was previously the sight of thick and heavy downpour now revealed the grey and muddied land across them. What was once unseen, unveiled itself. The silhouettes disappeared into green grass fields and waving trees. The landscape was an endless slope and cliff, an uneven terrain as far as the eyes could see.

"Enemy advancement spotted, ten klicks from position," their communicator boomed. Two thousand Lunar Deployment Enforcers spread wide, forming a large, concave arch. With their varied weapons, the soldiers waited silently as rain poured over their photonic barrier. The vehicles were less hidden, but such was unnecessary for their armoured mount.

The faint whine of the Predator's incessant engine reverberated along with the constant whispers of quad-mech's servo-tendrils, their quadruped, mechanical limbs lumbered under the rainfall, for each step shuddered the ground. The machine ignored the constant assault from the clouds and the breeze.

Nothing but the sounds of watery spate that occupied the lush land, not even the animals were present as ambience.

Hendrick tensed when his visor bleeped, helpfully displaying to him the outline of their enemies. The internal system suppressed the stressed breathing of his lungs, and he was thankful of that, especially with the sheer bulk they had to deal with. For a moment, he entertained the idea of bombing them from afar - such a notion would be viable if they were given more resources to operate.

The kitsune gauged the strength of their armours compared the penetrative capability of his Piercer, even in its lowest setting, he had no doubt that it could at least puncture through three or four bodies in a single shot and several more once within a two hundred metres range. However, that calculation hadn't accounted to the presence of sorcerers and their unpredictable bulwarks.

Their astral barrier was strong enough to withstand a few blasts where it would normally falter after one. Their earth wall, dense and solid, though less effective than their mystical counterparts, still proved to be a somewhat reliable defence without the need of mana expense.

Hendrick was rather concerned. For a mere two thousand to face an army of two hundred ninety thousand, it was a disadvantageous odd. His gaze wandered to the war engines that weathered against the downpour, his eyes roamed the soldiers that stood patiently against the calm storm. The kitsune sighed, assuring himself the likelihood of their victory.

"Reminds me of Halavan Simulation," Jordan whispered to his side, his voice transferred from the vox-carrier. The harpy's wings protected by the thin etheric coat, every feathers veiled underneath the energy barrier.

Hendrick managed to chuckle even under stress. His gaze didn't wander, keeping it maintained forward. The Halavan training was one he remembered vividly, the semblance of such simulation and their current situation was rather peculiar.

"First wave is here. An estimate of over fifty thousand units including foot soldiers, bestial-fae auxiliary and potential combat magus."

The first to react were the Sapharos Crawler, the quadruped mechs wailed as their positron cannon roared. White bright energy of anti-matter hurled through the humid air, the incorporeal coat that kept the negative particles away from its surrounding environment eventually wavered and broke under impact, releasing its destructive innards.

Pure blinding eruptions burnt the eyes of those near whilst those who were struck were left nothing but ashes. The wyverns were the first victims, from a distance incomprehensible for the reptile and its riders, the beast disintegrated and fell.

The sounds of panicked scream did little to quell the attack. Manifolds of continuous barrage rendered most to paste, their mere existence left with only remnant energies of their former bodies. Where there was once legions of wyvern corps, now only left with a few hundred scattered and confused beasts.

Those on the ground were not spared from the sight as they watched with morbid fascination at the sudden death of their winged allies. Many could see the strange streak of light that emerged without forewarning, their existence brought nothing but terror to the heart of the warriors.

"What is going on?" The King of Alguna demanded an answer, he pulled the reign of his horse as it struggled against his control. The rain only continued with its incessant hail.

"I- it seems like lightning had struck our wyverns, My Lord," the legatus declared.

"You fool, that is no lightning!" Argued a Mudwan mage, nearly spat at the man. His robe soaked and heavy, his staff coat in a sheen of wetness. The sorcerer waved his arm wildly, "don't you have eyes?"

"Silence wizard. I ask not of your opinion!" Barked the legatus.

"Legate, end your quarrel." Voiced the king, his word brought an immediate effect to both parties. "These are not mere lightning…"

They watched in horrified awe as the remnants of the wyvern's bodies plunged to the earth, some of them crushing those unlucky enough to be beneath their mangled cadavers. There was not even a drop of blood, the wound terminated in a scorched, blackened gap.

The Algunian King slowly felt terrible unease in his heart, his instinct screamed at him like a wailing siren but he quelled such concerns. "Soldiers, phalanx!" He yelled, they immediately formed a great tide of iron shields.

Amidst the dreary somber of rainstorm, the ever present flash of distant lightning and the occasional grumble of thunder, there was nothing to indicate there were anyone near. Nearly three hundred thousand men stood with their shield and their spears in hand, slowly making their way forward, anticipating an incoming wave - yet none came.

The king's unease only grew. Beyond the veil of thick raindrops, only flickers of silhouettes could be seen. Whatever presence lies beyond the veil was hidden amongst the thousands of dancing trees and waving grasses. He turned to face the sorcerer, a man not of his own army but one he commanded nonetheless.

"Mage, tell me if you can see beyond this accursed rain," exclaimed the Algunian King.

The royal head did not miss the way the mage scowled even as he tried to hide it beneath his flapping cowl. The sorcerer lifted his hand, writhing arcane power swirled on his palm before they manifested into corporeal, mystical runes. In an instant, he flinched, the mage's previously annoyed expression shifted to an alarmed state.

"I… t- there are thousands of souls in front of us," exclaimed the mage.

"Where?" The king's voice dropped to a whisper, the tone grew cold and distant.

The mage lifted his hand to gestured beyond the dark veil, where their vision obscured behind the thick layer of rainfall. The Algunian King could only see the wavering wave of droplets fighting against strong gale, there were only unrecognisable silhouettes beyond the veil not even a glint of metal were seen.

He pulled the reign of his horse, a deep frown etched upon his aged face. The king held his hand up and the order was quickly spread across his men and several other kingdoms.

"What do you mean?"

The mage felt his mind flickered, a strange presence perturbed his thoughts. The sorcerer shuddered as he felt the foreign presence. "I - I can feel the souls of a thousand men beyond there, far away from us."

The king unsheathed his gladius, the rain pattered against the silver blade. "How far?"

"T- ten league?" The uncertainty in the mage's voice only served to further disquiet the king, the grip upon his weapon tightened.

"Men, take arms and be ready!" He yelled. Series of thoughts and questions prodded his mind, it was no doubt their enemy, the timing was impeccable. However, he wondered how they even knew of their advance or even had the time to approach them. The Algunian King turned to one of his legates. "You, inform the others that there will be an expected battle ahead."

The wind howled as the cloud continued with its humid assault. Countless streaks of tiny water droplets splattered against the land below, their numbers reached in the millions, like arrows they hail and struck, erupted into smaller droplets.

The wind softly pounded against the Enforcer's composite-metal armour. The pounding artillery growled beneath the howls of the wind, positron beams and wraith shells struck their winged foe, striking down their pride and strength easily as one were to swat a fly.

Their enemy's hesitation was used to advantage, for their wavering proved to be their undoing. Some of the tanks took it upon themselves to strike the enemy force from afar, quickly mowing several hundred in matters of minutes with not a moment to spare.

For the unified forces of the Allied Army, they were facing hell itself as their legions struck by unknown power, their men torn by godly destruction. The King of Alguna didn't falter however, with what little window of time given to react, he took that sliver of opportunity and commanded his men to charge forward.

A wall of shields surged forth, their thumping footfalls deafened under the heavy rain, the snarling thunder and flashing lightning. Like an iron tide, they were a massive barrier, armed with spears, their heart stroke with the flame of zeal. Despite the constant harassment from the psi-tanks and their quadruped brethren, their firepowers were too insignificant to truly push back the incoming horde.

The curtain of rain didn't impede the Trooper's vision as they clearly could see the encroaching mass. The medieval legions were like ants from such a distant, clustered together and formed a congregation of iron and flesh. Even with their hurried footsteps, the Allied Army was far from disorganised - none of the soldiers were pushed or stepped upon, all of them kept an equal yet hastened pace.

The first infantry to strike were the stria-gun wielders, their concentrated laser fire were fast and deadly. Though not as potent nor as impactful as their plasma counterparts, the laser rifles had proven themselves worthy to be an Enforcal weapon of choice.

The red streak of concentrated electromagnetic waves whizzed past the humid air, pure manifestation of condensed photonic radiation seared through the skulls of the Allied soldiers. Some found their head splattered, their cerebral entrails sprayed against their comrades, others had their armours melted along with their flesh, their internal organs burnt and cooked, leaving slight wisp.

Many hundreds of lux-rifles were fired, their energetic light beams painted the sky like deadly shooting stars.

For the Allied Army, it was a scene of terror. Their allies ruptured and bled, their body parts splattered like water balloons. Even with their shield, it did little to impede the unending assault. Only those who stood behind the sorcerers were truly unaffected, the multitudes of strange red streak absorbed harmlessly against their arcane aegis.

"What is this!?" Screamed the High Duke of League Principality, he tried his best to control his panicking steed. The man could see where the strange bright arrows were coming from, their origin pinpointed at their path, several leagues away. Most of his men were the vanguard, thus one that was most affected. An entire legionnaire was halted, their advance made futile by the continuous, enigmatic barrage.

The duke's men didn't answer, too busy dealing with such a threat. Their only response to such predicament was to push forward, charging towards their unseen enemies. The beast tamers quickly roused their monstrous tide, a coalition of bestial demi-humans forced to serve their human masters.

The robed men pulled their whips and enforced their command, with a simple bark, the beasts heed their words. From the skittering goblins to the lumbering ogres, they had a large presence in the field.

The green skinned creatures ran forward. Armed with wooden axes, spears and daggers, the goblins were the least valuable of the auxiliary force. Acting more as bait, they charge mindlessly to their death, their advancement halted by the unyielding hammer of the Alliance, like great sickle, the hordes were scythed and their souls harvested by the gods.

Accompanying the fathomless masses of dreadful laser streaks were the semi-visible plasma bolts. Their existence was only but a flicker for the observer, with near blinding speed they punctured through bodies like arrows against silk. No armour shall impede their vengeful strike, no shield shall halt their thunderous smite. Where the laser streaks failed with the mage barrier, the plasma bolts mercilessly pierced them like paper.

The wave of goblins were accompanied with the lumbering tides of ogres and orcs. The former, a beast of rippling muscles and the latter, a monster of gelatinous fats - neither of which were enough to hamper the great hammer. Even with their strength and their might, their ability to bend steel and crush skulls were no match against the thousands of prickling laser/plasma fires.

Skin boiled, flesh scorched and armours melted. The same fate was shared amongst the Allied legions. The mizzling rain washed over the molten and boiling corpses, some of which were still glowing red hot.

Few wyverns that did survived the first assault were quick to retaliate. Whilst the spearmen riders died off once they encroached, the sorcerers draw the power of the Incorporeum and conjure arcane spells over their unseen enemies. Great lob of flames, ribbons of lightning, shards of ice, rocky javelins and piercing gales were thrown. An amalgamation of magical missiles hurled in great scale, forcing the Enforcers to a defensive position.

The psi-tanks growled, their mechanical anger could be heard miles away as it belched etheric bolts from its spindly rod, the lips writhed with aether-presence. Travelling at sub-light speed, the trajectile were unavoidable. Every wraith shell was a carrier of unimaginable horror, upon impact, etheric fulmination brought the power of the Immaterium into realspace, where its chaotic nature exposed and its effect were felt. The fabric of space itself wavered before it left only a flicker of residual wraith-lightning.

Whilst the Predators and the Crawlers were occupied with the aerial force, the Terrestrial Troopers held back the ground force. Heavy plasma, laser fires, pulsion matter and wraith-lightning saturated the battlefield.

The united forces of the Allied Kingdom however didn't relent nor did they falter, instead with their magick and their arrows, the bowmen and sorcerers retaliated. Although only a few of which found their mark, those that managed to slammed against the Enforcers left their exosuit either barely or not at all damaged.

Whatever bulwarks that the sorcerers and shield bearers could conjure, they did so with such haste. A cascade of plasma hammered against their barrier, many of which quickly collapsed and imploded. Some mages had taken it upon themselves to gather and combined their strength, channelling coalesced sorcery to form a unified mystical wall. Their fate hung upon the mental strength of all the mages as they strained themselves to keep the aegis erected.

Duran, the Elbian King, who chose to lead his men from the rear was left to witness the slaughter through the thick fog of rain. Few surviving messengers from the front ranks relayed the maddened orders of their generals in panic.

"Lord Duran of Elbe, half of the vanguard forces has been killed! The Duke Principality request for your help!"

Duran frowned, the ground thundered at a distance. "Who is our enemy?!"

"We don't know and it does not matter," a mage exclaimed at his side. "We cannot wait for this slaughter to continue, Lion of Elbe. Any longer and your men will die."

"Watch your tone, mage," Duran grunted.

The mage only shifted his head, gazing at the carnage. "I am only loyal to my king." The mage flinched when he saw a long swathe of bright lance streaked across the sky, bringing whatever abominable nightmare to the army.

Duran ignored the sorcerer's insubordination, instead focused himself in dealing with their unknown enemy. They brought the very flames and thunder from heaven and hell, conjuring power from the dark pits of the underworld themselves.

Light rain battered against his helm, the water slicked to his cheek and slid unto his chin. It felt cold and dreadful. Duran grimaced as he heard the banshee screech of monstrous voice and the agonised screams of dying men. It was difficult to get a scope of the battle under such conditions, the thick curtain of rain draped their enemy behind the foggy vapours. Only a shimmer of light or a flicker of flames that gave him a glimmer of their tormentor's general direction.

"We need to spread out," Duran commanded. "Whatever sorcery this is, those earthly eruptions are only deadly when we congregate!"

"Spread out? But our formati-" before the legatus could complete his sentence he was interrupted with a demonic screech before it ended with a thunderous boom.

"Keep eight men, four shield bearers and spear wielders for the other four. It will keep them protected and widespread, we need to keep our death to a minimum! Do as I say or we die!"

"W- what about the other kingdoms, Milord? Should we tell them?"

The mage scoffed, "you don't have the time, knight. Listen to your king, lest you want to die. This is a task for us mages."

The legatus scowled, but ignored him nonetheless. "I will command my soldiers, tell your arcane friends to handle this."

"We will," mumbled the mage almost hesitantly when he heard the bestial roar once more.

Aerulle cursed as she felt the cold absence of her soul being deprived of vitas. It was a strenuous work for her, each incantation that escaped her lips, each spell conjured from her sceptre-gun, it pulled away a part of her energy, draining a portion of her metaphysical essence.

Her magic was less potent than the natives of this world, with what little vitas she had in her, she could barely produce a single, proper fireball. However, it was not her intention to conjure flames. With all of her magical powers, with what little vitas she possessed, the elf bent and shaped the strings of reality under her image.

Plasma bolt coated in layers of rune-code struck her enemies, the mystical sigils embedded within the superheated particles unleashed the force of the Astral Plane. Drawing the bodily chemicals from its victim and transmuting their spilt blood into combustible gas, the flames that followed after were devastating.

For each one she shot, their bodies became a conduit for fire. Their corpse combust, the residual gas envelopes those nearby, turning the land into a lake of flames. The rain did little to stem the infernal rage, only served to mock those writhed in agony as their flesh slowly boiled and charred.

Aerulle grew gradually concerned, though casualties were rampant in the enemy side, they were slowly making their way through. The amount of bodies were almost equal or perhaps greater than the amount of rounds they were able to conjure. Even with the help of a few psi-tanks and quad-mechs, their numbers were too significant for them to make anything but a dent, and the fact that their magus were actually putting up a mild resistance didn't help either.

The elf discharged several more superheated rounds, her vitas slowly recuperated as seconds passed. Aerulle furrowed when she noticed how their sorcerers were able to conjure glowing flames and hurled it repeatedly with little pause between incantation.

"Fucking monkeys," she growled, frustrated and plagued with envy. Her plasma bolt shreds through armours with little resistance, the difference between leather and iron made null by the condensed star matter.

"All units, back up. They're gaining foothold near us," the communicator blared to her ears. The elf furrowed deeper.

Though their progress was slow, it was doubtless that the primitives were still advancing. For every body that died, more were able to replace them with several more. It was a race of tenacity, for which would first falter.

"Seems like they still got quite a crowd. All units please be advised the Husk S-6 will be engaging them in close quarter combat, your HUD has been updated. For those who aren't with lux-rifles, I advise to reign your shots a bit - the droids will be facing off their frontal force, those things are not - well, they're kinda cheap but that still isn't a good reason to break 'em."

The ivory elf flicked her gaze to her side, showing mild surprise when an android suddenly sprinted out of nowhere. Its black carapace and dark grey coils of synthetic mecha-muscles was almost a blur in the rain, there were multiple of them in fact, charging forward to their enemy.

Aerulle held her tongue for a second longer before she commented. "This seems stupid."

"We need to keep those guys engaged and distracted with the droids, it buys us time," Hendrick responded through the vox-link.

"The only thing those metalheads got are breaching daggers and laser cutters," Aerulle exclaimed. Like many others, she had already slowly retreated, keeping the distance between them and their opponents.

"More than enough I'd say," her captain murmured.

Aerulle couldn't see him in the fog of war and rain, but she could sense the hesitation in his voice. The elf magus grumbled to herself, her vitas already returned at her fully. There were hundreds of thaumaturge at enemy side, several of them had thankfully been incapacitated.

Their spells alone were nothing too severe but several of those simultaneously were enough to puncture through an Aegis Mark-IV exosuit armour. An armour designed to withstand at least five shots from a destabiliser ray the Sovereign likes to use so much.

The Husks droids were almost imperceivable, especially under the cold mizzle and their dark form. The machines hurled themselves like cannon, metallic figures slammed against fleshy warriors, breaking bones in process. The humans, under the thick rain could only catch glimmers of their sudden enemy. For a moment, rage and confidence blossomed in their hearts.

"Our foe has finally shown themselves!" One yelled, his voice carried a zeal shared amongst his brethren. Their strength reinvigorated as their bodies carried even further. "Warriors! Show these fools what comes for those who dares-" his word cut short when the blade of the robot pierced against his skull.

The Husks S-6 were fairly mundane in comparison to many combat droids in existence. With a basic plasteel carapace and polymeric micro-covers placed above their joints. The automatons themselves were not properly armed, only the basic volt-pistol and sometimes a rudimentary plasma blaster.

Yet, even with all of its flaws, the Husks were very effective against their fleshy enemies. With the strength of augmented servo-tendrils and the might of arcane enchantment, they cleaved through skulls and ribs with ease. The monomolecular blades vibrate at extreme frequency, with such precision, it sliced through their armour like butter.

Blades clashed against the machine's magick-born carapace, the mechanical humanoids barely affected by the myriads of spears, swords, halberds, mace and many other weapons of its kind. Sword bounced, mace shattered, spear snapped and halberd cracked yet none made a dent of their exterior.

For the robots, the humans were very slow and clumsy. Their movements recorded and calculated, manifolds of simulated precognition run through their cybernetic mind, the warriors become predictable.

Water flicked as the Husks moved, their weapons were unstoppable, like a slicing wind.

"Demons!" Screamed the humans as their bodies were torn and mutilated without care or mercy. Whatever unholy powers brought by the armoured devils cast terror in the heart of those near, their confidence quickly waned.

Duke Ligu of the League Principality gritted his teeth at such gory sight. His gladius felt useless in his weakened arm. Instead of blood, his blade was met with the taste of gentle raindrops.

"Stand back!" He yelled, much to his own dismay. The duke cringed when he saw layers of bodies ravaged by the strange invisible magick, the projectile only revealed itself as sparks of bright blue once it dug into its victim.

Shield bearers rushed to his side, some slipped over the muddied, bloodied ground. Their faces revealed nothing but haunting fear, yet despite it all, they stood tall and strong.

"Sire, w- we can finally see our enemy!" One of the shieldmen uttered, his voice barely audible under the constant barrage of fire and the screams of death.

The duke perked up, hastily glanced at the person. "Where are they?"

"It is over five leagues, our arrows can barely reach them," he exhaled, flinched when another round of eruption occurred in the distance.

"We need to push further, they are desperate," muttered Ligu.

One of the blurred golems leapt at impossible distance before it barreled against a dozen men whose bones shattered under impact. The armoured beings were inhuman, their limbs were akin to the segmented carapaces of insects, their bodies unnaturally slender and skeletal. They wield blurry blades that sliced bodies like a knife against bread.

Some of them were armed with glowing torches of some kind, burning flesh like a maddened pyromaniacal sorcerer. The army were forced to reposition themselves and hastily erect a new formation, shields held high and spears jutted in-between.

They were forced to engage enemies in the battlefield as well as those beyond.

Red crimson spurted and painted the androids, their sensors picking up myriads of chemical, psychic and arcane activity. They were small in number, only about five hundred of them against several hundreds of thousands. Though the humans barely pierced their armoured carapace, the machines were still outnumbered and overwhelmed - even with their inconceivable speed, there were more bodies for them to handle.

Streak of bright scarlet hail upon the warriors, the lasers were no different than the rain anymore. Like a great tide, they came in large swathes. The knights of Principality especially, were the most affected, most of their forces had been greatly reduced, some had lost all of their morale, fighting only out of sheer panic and fear.

Wraith-lightning slithered the air, incorporeal manifestation arched and writhed before they struck and consumed the flesh of those unfortunate.

Few of the surviving ogres engaged with the automatons, finally finding their match. The beast slammed its fist first to the armoured machines, sending its body back as it tumbled and heaved. The Husk momentarily calculated the probability of success before it regained foothold, unnaturally bending its limbs to push itself upright. The mono-blade attached to its forearm purred silently, the constant vibration keeping water and blood off it.

The ogre growled, mildly surprised to see the strange humanoid bug-creature survive the impact. With its coiling mass of muscles, the creature lifted its crude club and hammered it downward, an action easily avoided by the Husk. Various arcane projectiles flew past them, some larger, others sleeker.

The machine quickly noted that the large entity was physically superior than its own, but lacking in basic intelligence. A brief link to its other mechanical brethren quickly engaged with the monster.

The ogre growled, roaring before once more bringing its massive weapon to its enemy, growing in frustration as they avoided every of its assault. The land around the creature cracked, yet none found its mark. Another ogre joined in, in its arm, a stone mace. The second beast pummeled the weapon, finally finding its target as one of the androids was battered away.

It was about to relish in its victory before its head exploded to a meaty chunk.

The other ogre ignored its dead kin, too focused in its fight with the armoured beings that it failed to account for the whizzing plasma bolt, one of which pierced through its leg. The thing screamed in pain and rage, its attack became wild and unbalanced.

The ogre's rampage ended when one of the Husk leapt and shoved its blade into the creature's massive skull, the vibrational frequency creating minor shockwaves in its brain.

The battle continued and more blood stained the muddy ground.

Hendrick buckled and braced himself when one of the fireballs managed to slam against him. A single of those barely did anything but waver his exterior shielding - however it was not just one he had to worry, there were plenty of spells directed towards them.

The psi-tanks were mostly unbothered, shrugging off barrages of magical attack as they lazily mowed down hundreds of men with the combined power of their main turret and secondary gattlers.

"We've got enemy force flanking us from the side!" The radio chattered, much to Hendrick's irritance. They were fighting against a numerically superior foe, of course that was to be expected. Even with the wide berth they formed were not enough to encompass the entirety of the battlefield.

"Shit, looks like we have to close the gap," Jordan remarked as his Voltcaster unleashed torrents of etheric energy to the enemy rank.

What was previously a scattered formation of Enforcers keeping great distance from one another now forces them to congregate at the back, slowly taking a step back as the opponent advances forward.

Hendrick reluctantly agreed to his squad member, his footfalls barely audible under thunder and lightning conjured from mother nature and their blazing weapons. Every step back was slow and methodical, not one of them faltered or slipped.

Great quantities of sorcerers were making huge progress, apparently now realised that their combined might were enough to firmly hold back the hellish barrage, if not permanently then temporarily.

Hendrick saw large earth shards protruded from the ground, the earthly spikes traversed and spread the ground, forming a single row of rocky protrusion that managed to spear through few of their ranks, some of which flung several Enforcers back.

"They're really getting uncomfortably close," Hendrick muttered.

Fusillade of plasmas, lasers, pulsions and wraith-lightning saturated the magus, quickly overwhelming their defense. However when their focus was entirely upon the thaumaturgists, the rest quickly advanced. It was a challenge, a game of focus and management. For one target they aim, the rest remain untouched.

Tank rounds and positron mechs howled, pounding the air and shaking the ground. They had taken it upon themselves to handle the large units, the remaining orcs and ogres fell under intense firepower.

Amidst the chaos of the battle, several of the mages gathered to perform a combined spell, with the powers of several sorcerers they forged and conjured literal manifestation of a long serpentine creature composed of flickering fire, coiling electricity, mass of vapours and wavering ribbon of light. The elemental serpent slithered the air, ignoring all projectiles as it motioned forward.

"Theseus!" Hendrick exclaimed as he found himself staring at the arcane construct. The inorganic entity flew past and slammed against the tank, the photonic barrier flickered under such impact. The kitsune inhaled sharply, almost knocking off his feet. "What the hell...?"

"Fused elements, arcane redirection and spiritual reconstruction. They grabbed non-sentient entities from the Ether and grafted basic elemancy into said creature," Aerulle explained through the communicator. "That kind of stuff drains a lot of vitas, they must be very desperate."

The tanks and the quad-mechs rolled forward as the infantry slowly withdrew, the gravitic propulsion whined as it carried several tons worth of orichalcum and plasteel. Several more magic spells assaulted the massive armoured titans, yet none faltered. The great roar of their plasma gattlers deafened those nearby, like an angry screech of a dragon its voice bellowed against the hazy rain.

Duran was blighted with exhaustion and stress, for every command he yelled, every order given - none drove them close to success. They were advancing, yes, but their numbers had greatly dwindled, their forces were strained.

He caught glimmers of large behemoths that glided the air, their bodies barely visible under the dark cloud, only a flicker of their form could be seen whenever they spat their deadly torrent. There were other creatures as well, four legged insectoids that produced equal amounts of damage to their floating counterparts.

"What manner of witchery is this?!" One of the legatus expressed his fear. "They are unbeatable!"

"Nay, we still have the advantage! Our forces are greater than them, push forward!" Another interrupted.

"Are you foolish?" The next sputtered. "Even the great mages of Mudwan struggles, we have to retreat!"

"Cowards!" The previous one retorted.

"Silence," Duran boomed, his voice almost drowned by the constant shriek of their enemy. His gaze returned at the battlefield, his heart pounded against his chest, his hands quivered. He had never felt such great terror for such a long time. The Lion of Elbe chuckled to himself, a mirthless laughter escaped before he exhaled. "We will die here."

"B- but, Sire-"

"Even if we win now, our forces will be reduced to nothing. We will be weakened," Duran mumbled. "I cannot accept that. Sound the retreat."

"What?" The legatus paled, his eyes widened. "You can't be serious!"

"Do as I say or we all will die," Duran growled.

The legatus hesitated, staring at the eye of his king with shock in his face. The man then slowly drifted his gaze, observing the carnage of the fight, the death of his allies. The downpour did little to hide away the brutality of the war. The grip of his hands tightened, countless thoughts filtered through his conscience.

Ultimately, the man stared straight to his king, the horn felt cold and heavy in his hand. He inhaled, regulated his heartbeat when an explosion happened at a distance. His grip tightened, "no."

Before Duran was able to mutter a word, the legatus threw the horn away. The betrayal of his own subject shook the king greatly that he did naught but stare as the person raised his sword.

"Warriors of Elbe, Spear of Hardy, Shield of Lion! It is time to show these fools what befalls those dare fight against us. Charge!"

His words carried great weight, it thundered through the air and seeped into their heart. All of the rearguard knights immediately bolted forward without a care in the world, their crimson armour stained by rain, their blade glistened as lightning slithered between the dark clouds.

"No!" Duran boomed, yet his voice went unheard as they barrel to their death. "No, you fool!"

As the Elbian warriors entered the fray in great mass, the other kingdoms regained their lost vigour. The Knights of Elbe were strong and mighty, each were incredibly, unparalleled warriors.

Their iron shields however, proved to be as equally useless as their comrade's, easily torn to pieces, to be shredded like wood and paper. However even with the amount of death, they were pushing further into formation. As the droids could only handle several dozen at a time, many were left to slip past their inhuman grasps.

Spearpoints jutted between the gaps of their iron bulwark, their footfalls thundered as equally as their bellowing voice. The great wall-tide surged forth even when myriads of them found themselves prey to their enemy's eldritch sorcery. The large wave was slowly whittled down, their great number slowly reduced but not impeded.

The other kingdoms joined the charge, driven by adrenaline, fear and pride. They pressed on even when the soldiers were forced to trample upon the mangled bodies of their battle brothers, they forged ahead even when their friends were slaughtered before their eyes.

Meanwhile, at the Enforcer's side, the Terrestrial Troopers carried themselves back and rapidly retreated. Desperately trying to keep the distance between them, even when their enemy were charging faster than they could withdraw.

In a moment of distress, the Predators and the Sapharos Crawlers chose to encroach on their foe. The sudden appearance of several large metal monsters put a pause for the Allied Army, finally able to clearly see the full terror of the accursed death-beasts.

Their roaring, whirring spinning mage-spear glowed bright blue, firing invisible javelins ceaselessly as its main armoured snout belched hell unto them. The floating iron elephants were unstoppable, bringing with them the fury of Fire Dragon, it obliterated an entire legionnaire by mere seconds.

The crawling, four legged monsters were also no less terrible. Discharging blinding, white lance, the trajectile speared through the ground and erased everything in its path, even the rain itself sizzled to harmless radiation.

Soldiers desperately tried to shoved their weapons unto the armoured beasts, their spears and arrows bounced harmlessly upon the strange glowing barrier on its body and magical attacks only fizzled out, flickering quietly into nothingness.

Those who find themselves under the iron beast were subjugated to a gruesome fate, strange coiling ribbons of energy struck everything beneath itself, the lightning-like manifestation melting flesh and armour alike.

"Damn it, damn it all!" Screamed Duke Ligu, his men were dying. His soldiers were left to be playthings for the demonic creatures. "Damn you! Why don't you just die!"

The duke grabbed a spear, the rain hiding away the tears from his face as he forced his steed onward. His green armour battered by the ceaseless rainfall, the leather soaked most of the water. He focused on the wind of his cheek, and the firm grasp on his spear, the wooden shaft felt cold and wet.

The beast seemed much bigger now he was near, its figure loomed over him like an ogre to a halfling. The iron elephant stirred its great rod towards him but didn't fire, only stared either out of confusion or mockery. Ligu did not care, he drove his spear forward, with all of his strength he slammed the spear tip against its metal hide, only to find it break after making contact with a strange translucent barrier that flickered for a mere second.

Ligu bellowed, releasing all of his rage, frustration and fear as he unsheathed his blade. His sword uselessly clashed against the flickering barrier, only serving to damage his weapon. "W- why won't you die!? You accursed creature! You dumb beast-"

In the end, his fate was met with a dozen plasma bolts directly to his torso and head, leaving his entrails splattered the ground.

Duran, who remained lost at the back, observing with despair as his men were mercilessly slaughtered. His muscles felt tense, his bone felt heavy. His heart strained at every beat, his lungs struggled against his chest. Of all the battles he fought, none of these were familiar to him. This was not a war, this was judgement from gods themselves.

Mighty armoured monsters, not a flesh could be seen. Unseen forces hid beneath the shadow of the sky and rain upon them destruction and death. Deadly, blurry things that massacred the soldiers up close. Was this a bad omen? A warning from the gods? Perhaps an intervention from the dreaded beings from the Underworld?

"Duran!" The Elbian King snapped out of his grim thoughts as he saw the King of Alguna approached, his left arm only left a dangling stump, the wound cauterised and boiled the flesh inside. The man heaved, his steed had gone, left to the tapestry of fate. Eventually he fell, coughing blood. "Duran, we are losing. You need to - to command my men, take them all away."

"Lorgos," Duran exclaimed as he alighted from his horse, hastily turning to glance at the carnage. "You are bleeding."

"I am dying," the other king corrected, every word was a struggle. "I don't have much time, whatever that hits my shoulder... it is some kind of a poison, it - it turns my blood in crystals. Can you believe that?" He chuckled, before coughing once more.

"Save your breath-"

The Algunian King grabbed Duran by his arm and glared directly at him. "T- this is no place to die. There is no glory in this fight, you need to run."

Duran paused, whatever reply he was about to conjure remained in his throat as the King of Alguna eventually perished. The man was not given a moment to process as an explosion erupted beside him, large dust flew through the air as coiling, withering energy slowly dissipated. He rolled away, hastily rose to his feet as he took in the scene.

Many of the soldiers remained standing, but many more were left dying. The rain washed over their maimed bodies, thick crimson stained the muddy ground.

Duran did not leave a moment to spare as he rode his steed, the animal remained loyal even under intense stress. With a quick kick, he manned the horse away from battle. The rain pattered against his face, as the wind howled in his ears. The Elbian King ignored the flames and thunder behind him, only forcing his entire focus upon escape.

Yet as he continued further away, Duran felt his horse buckled. The creature screeched in pain before he was inadvertently flung to the side, slamming his back against the hardened ground. The king groaned, mild confusion entered his mind - the puzzlement however quickly morphed to fear when the very air itself wavered and great darkness materialised from nothing.

The figure was clad entirely black in some form of flexible armour of some sort and a dark, miasmic cloak draped over its shoulder. The entity's face, or helm, was entirely black, with a hint of reflective nature on it. There was no sound, not even the soft patter of rain against its carapace-like body.

Duran grabbed his sword, his heart quickened its pace as he warily gazed into the blackness of its face. "W- who are you?"

The thing was silent, barely even a creak of its armour or the crinkle of its dark drape. Ebony, miasmic manifestation conjured on its right arm and a strange, wavering blade appeared. In an instant, the entity surged forth, with a speed so great that Duran barely had the time to react.

Their blade clashed and the king was forced to channel his whole strength against the surprising power of the dark figure. He gasped, pulling himself away when he felt his own energy drained.

Duran felt the beat of his heart doubled its effort and his lungs heaved for more air. The king frowned, "what are you?"

He didn't get a reply, instead it disappeared from his sight, before materialising a moment later behind him, only giving Duran a small window of a second to gasp before he felt all of his strength was deprived of him and his consciousness slowly dissolved away.

Gurth Station, Syronis System, Perseus Sect

The Syr System were only left with the scattered remains of shattered planets and a massive corpse of ancient gigastructure once belonged to the Predecessor, now a domain of vagabonds, traders and explorers. The high etheric radiation that spilled into the system birthed many mutated beasts that many sought their prize.

The Gurth Station, a continent sized structure created from the broken remains of an ancient technological foundation slapped with modern fae-tech. The large ring construct was but only a portion of the larger collective of various other artificial structures.

So large was its scale that it had its own ecosystem, a breeding ground for the aforementioned monsters. The station was separated into different nation-states, each had its own unique environment, weather and climate.

Within the cityscape of Uthri, located at the 'western' side of the ringworld, it was where the wealthy and powerful resided. They held dominion over the economy and law of the realm, those who enforce the Hunting Law within the torus structure. It was also the place of trading where the monster hunters gathered in swarms to buy gears for their never ending quest for hunt.

Amongst the thousands of skyscrapers and buildings both state of the art and antiquated, one remained to be a favoured establishment for the hunters - the Lizgrill Inc, a de facto tavern in the City of Uthri.

Fae of various races gathered to feast and relax, to converse amongst themselves and recall all the great feats they and their allies had done. One amidst the crowd however, was silent, he sat and brood alone near the polymedium countertop.

His figure draped in a furry cowl, his features hidden beneath a veil of darkness. The man was larger than the standard Fae, but smaller in comparison to many heavy class species.

"What do you want, pal?" A synthoid in the form of a female usagimimi addressed him, her lips drew to a coy curl and her arm placed gently on the counter. She was scantily clad, draped in nothing more than a skintight black suit that covered her body, leaving a clear view of her upper cleavage. Her legs were clad under black-white striped knee sock.

The man grunted, a sliver of red strand peeked beneath the cowl. "Heavy spearwing."

"One spearwing coming right up," she smiled, her retina glowed for a brief second, relaying the order to the bartender robot. The synth tilted her head, her bunny ears perked to her side as she studied the man. "Never see you before, where do you come from?"

The man paused, his eyes darted to hers, revealing a pair of deep amber. "Norma Sect."

"Wow, pretty far," said the synth usagimi. She rested both elbows atop the counter, grinning slightly. "So what are you doing all the way here?"

"To hunt," uttered the man, his voice deep, gruff and abrupt but never rude. "To live, to gain experience."

"Hmmm," she had heard such words many times before. She supposed that was to be expected with these types of jobs, dangerous, exhilarating and very high-pay. "You look pretty strong yourself, care to tell me a story?"

The man quirked his bushy, red brow. The cowl parted slightly to reveal his long, deep scarlet hair and light beard. His lupine ears drooped forward, there were a pair of small fangs from his pale lips. "I'm afraid it is not one for me to share."

The woman doubled back, her eyes widened as her lips quivered. She faltered, recognising the kobold before her. In an instant, her demeanor shifted, her body tensed. "Thor Odinson."

"Aye, it is a pleasure meeting you, Mertiene of the Starseeker." The Asgardian uttered, his voice low yet booming. It resonated an air of authority.

The usagimimi, Mertiene frowned. She flicked her gaze, scanning the place before her voice dropped to a whisper. "What are you doing here, Asgardian?"

"As I said, to hunt."

The synth shook her head, still shivering. "I hope you don't cause trouble Odinson. This establishment is expensive." She sighed, one of the drones arrived with a drink and placed it before Thor. "I was hoping to find a catch today, unfortunately I have the luck of meeting you."

"What do you mean, mortal?" Thor tilted his head as his hand grasped on the drink.

The synthoid furrowed, her eyes studying the demi-god out of caution. "No offense Odinson, you are a fine lad but you're way out of my league."

"That is true," the Asgardian added as he took a sip of the ale.

The usagimimi flinched, she scowled at the comment but did nothing. It was not her attention to annoy an Asgardian prince, one who commanded the thunder and storm. "There must be another reason for you to be here, you know who I am."

"Tis a mere coincidence, fair maiden. I did not expect to encounter one of your kind here," exclaimed Thor.

"One of my kind, what does that mean? And for the record, I'm anything but a fair maiden." The usagimimi huffed.

"Starseekers, there are not a lot of you anymore. Shattered and fragmented, your forces have been disbanded, your leader - gone."

The synth usagimi shifted from her seat, glaring at the demi-god. Her fingers tapped the countertop with great fury. "We are not dead, there are still more of us. We don't need the Overseer's help."

"Not enough. Not after the Great War, nor after the Death of Worlds. Some of you had come and begged for my father's help. It will not be long before you do the same," Thor muttered.

"I will not submit to false gods if that is what you want," hissed the woman, her ears flicked back. She then slumped, her anger dissipated. "The war is old, I wasn't even born at the time. It doesn't concern me, I am content with my life."

"I-" before Thor could continue, his ear flicked. The demi-god furrowed, his gaze darted elsewhere. For a moment there was confusion upon his face before it morphed to an impassive stare. His attention then returned to the usagimimi. "I'm afraid this conversation will have to cut short. Here is the Plats."

He waved his arm, incorporeal slabs of metal materialised before it was absorbed into the table, its physical property altered into digital information. Platonites, etheric astra-elements conjured from the realm of the immaterial. They were mostly obsidian black in colour with the unique property to transmorph into digital structure, and had become the universal currency across the galactic front.

The usagimimi blinked when she observed as the Asgardian hastily departed, his drink left unfinished. The woman grunted as she rubbed her head, "fucking apostles..."

Thor pushed through the crowds, his eyes remaining in the sky, a contained atmosphere formed via the implementation of advanced aero-hydromancy. Beyond the veil of the artificial ozone, where he could see the curved surface of the ringworld extending beyond his sight.

"Thor Odinson," a resonant voice echoed in the space of his mind, the demi-god flinched, his pace quickened.

"Heimdall," he uttered tersely. "What is it?"

"Your father has sensed great disturbance in the Ether, a warp-bridge of unknown origin," stated the divine watchman. "It is located in the Maiden Mother World, where the mortals reside."

"Terra..." Thor whispered. He was still an unborn child when Terra first developed, when the new mortals festered the planet and plagued the ancient world.

"We believe it is a foreign power, one that threatens Asgard," Heimdall continued.

Thor frowned, the last time Asgard was threatened was the war with the Olympians. The signed treaty was barely enough to hold off the hostility between the factions.

"Where is this... disturbance?" Thor unlatched his Vestige, a small enchanted uru hammer, it glows with arcane power. If this was truly a threat to Asgard and its people, they would feel the wrath of his hammer.

"It will be discussed in the throne room," was Heimdall's reply before bright light materialised beneath Thor's feet, and in a flash of a second, he disappeared.

[End of Chapter Six]

Etheroic Table Elements

While the Periodic Table is a tabular display to represent the chart and chemical properties of elements in Realspace, the Etheroic Table is a tabular display meant to represent the alchemical properties of elements originating and manifesting in the Astral Plane.

Many elements in the Etheroic Table do not exist within realspace and the majority of which couldn't retain its elemental properties within the physical domain without some form of transdimensional possession. Few raw substances of the Ether however could exist and retain its stability in the material realm without any metaphysical alterations, however such phenomenon is very rare and only applies to small quantities of alchemic elements.

These incorporeal elements, often referred to as astral-matters, unlike base-matter, come in near infinite forms. Astral-matters are vitas energy that conjured itself into an immaterial structure often due to the random, chaotic nature of the Immaterium.

The structure of astral-matter is different than the standard base-matter in that it does not possess subatomic particles like electron, proton or neutron but instead the so-called 'sub-spectron' that, under specific circumstances, can exist and interact normally with physical subatomic particles.

Yotron (the 'shell' energy that makes up the outer layer of astral-matter, under certain circumstances they can normally interact with electrons without consequences of reality distortion. The quantity Yotron can be diminished or added, which alters some aspects of the astral-matter. Different elements that possess the same Coretron yet deviating Yotron are considered 'runic isotope'.)

Coretron (the 'nucleic' structure of astral-matter, mostly just condensed vitas behaving almost similarly to atomic nuclei. The Coretron represents the core property of the element, which means to alter the amount of the Coretron is to alter the nature of the astral-matters itself.)

Olnotron (a sub-spectron that sometimes 'shifts' in and out of existence between the layer of Coretron and Yotron in random intervals. Astral-matters that have a lower presence of Olnotron are often the most unstable in realspace.)

Metayotron (rare sub-spectron present in only a few astral-matter that requires greater amount of energy to manifest in realspace. It acts as a secondary 'shell layer' outside of the Yotron layer. Though its exact purpose remains to be studied, it is theorised that the Metayotron is responsible for keeping the tangible coherence of naturally unstable astral-matter.)

Below are few list of exotic materials and substance used across the galaxy;

[Mithril]

Mithril is a common mineral used for a variety of base constructs and other metallic uses. Often described to be a very versatile metal. Mithril, in its base form, is a glossy, dark blue metal with similar mass of iron. It is naturally several times more durable than steel, quite conductive, it also has an incredible aptitude to enchantment being the most magically attuned mineral of all. Its most apparent attribute is its chemical malleability, which is its unique property to mimic the property of other rigid-metals.

[Polymedium]

Polymedium is used to describe all forms of etheric polymers in the galaxy. Unlike the normal carbon construct of basic polymer material, polymedium is composed of astral-matter that shares some similarities with carbon yet simultaneously different. Much like normal polymer, polymedium comes in myriads of shapes, texture and appearance - most of which resembles plastics.

[Plasteel]

Plasteel is commonly used in many basic constructions either for infrastructural or vehicular purposes. It is several times lighter than steel, yet significantly more durable than titanium. Due to its polymeric property, plasteel is extremely resistant, almost immune to erosion, and could survive for millions of years. It is also extremely resistant against high temperature, able to survive several direct shots from plasma bolts. Plasteel is an alloy of enchanted steel and polymedium strain. In appearance, the material is visually indistinguishable from normal steel save for its lighter, brighter hue.

[Orichalcum]

Orichalcum is greater in terms of durability, endurance, strength and thermal tolerance compared to plasteel. It however, is a poor mystical conductor, often requiring transfusion with mithril to allow any runic engraftment upon it. Orichalcum has a light coppery texture in appearance, and due to its strange alchemical property, there is often a trace of microscopic, hexagonal pattern on its surface.

[Adamantine]

Adamantine, also sometimes referred to as adamantite in the Outer Region, is by far the strongest raw element amongst the metallic class. Although it is not the most durable in comparison to several alloyed minerals, it is still far more durable than most materials in existence. An unenchanted adamantine is able to absorb five kiloton force of impact, undamaged. The metal is also resistant to intangibility, in which incorporeal substance would find difficulty phasing through it. The material is opaque, white crystalline in appearance, however exhibits iron-like texture when touched.

[Glassinite]

Glassinite comes in wide variety and is commonly used to replace ancient silicate glass. Most glassinite are transparent but its composition can be altered to manipulate its transparency. In spite of its physical appearance, glassinite is actually made of crystalline polymedium material composed of several astral-matter. Different atomic or runic structures of glassinite could alter the way photon particles interact with the material, allowing for light to travel at a specific angle. Depending on the transfused minerals, some glassinite are stronger than titanium, others are as fragile as steel.

[Nympsteel]

Nympsteel or nymphore is a pinkish, rarely translucent, metal, first discovered and developed by the fairies. It has the same strength and durability of plasteel, however with high mystical property only second to mithril. It also strangely acts as a living organism, in that nympsteel can grow and reform its shape akin to an algae under the influence of pixie magic. When a certain rune signature is applied into nympsteel, the metal would be volatile and explode. That energy can be contained and used as a fuel source.

[Tartarite]

Tartarite is an alloy of adamantine and nympsteel. It has the durability of adamantine and the dense mystical property of nympsteel, albeit it has lost its natural ability to be grown and nurtured like a living algae. Tartarite had the crystalline appearance of adamantine and the slight pinkish hue of nympsteel.

[Uru]

Uru is a metal only naturally found in Asgard, although there are several pseudo-isotopes that exist in the black market. Uru has the physical appearance of stone but with all of the consistency of metal. It also possesses the durability of adamantine and the mystical properties greater than that of mithril. Other than those, uru is very attuned to spatiomancy magic, allowing it to bend space, and even time, to a certain extent.

[Pulsion]

Pulsion is an unstable, volatile and infective astral-matter that can only manifest in realspace in a limited time frame before it eventually dissolves into the astral plane. This element is very infectious, in that its unique property to transmorph other matters into an imitative version of the pulsion particle. These pseudo-pulsion, much like the authentic ones, have a translucent, crystalline texture with varying degrees of hue depending on the original colour of the transmuted matter. The pseudo-pulsion differs from the true pulsion in that its inability to infect other elements into itself and would most likely stay crystallised.

[Wraith-lightning]

Wraith-lightning are raw, unfiltered vitas that imitates the consistency of electricity albeit with far more devastating effects. Due to the wild nature of the Ether and all things that manifest from it. The very presence of wraith energy in realspace wavered the fabric of reality, distorting the ambient energy, altering background radiation and deconstructing subatomic structures.

[Soulflame]

Much like wraith-lightning, soulflame or soulfire is the raw manifestation of vitas energy in the form of fiery apparition. Soulflame are able to rapidly cause the deterioration of physical matter, it not only destroys tangible objects but intangible ones as well. It is very much capable of 'burning' through ethereal entities, including the 'soul' of a person.

[Godstone]

Godstone is the physical manifestation of arcana, the incorporeal essence of the gods made physical - thus the material itself reflects upon it. It possesses great mystical property, often described to be vibrating at a microscopic level due to the sheer intense energy residing within godstone, the mineral is also quite weightless, sharing the same mass as mere plastic material. Godstone's physical appearance varied, with the only consistency being its slightly unnatural, glassen texture. Godstone's durability and strength depends upon the amount of arcana used to manifest it to existence, albeit even the weakest and fragile of godstone could withstand a direct, one megaton nuclear blast.

[Auranite]

A metal less in durability compared to godstone but with much greater magical density. Much like godstone, it is also conjured through the materialisation of arcana. Auranite varies in appearance, but all of them share the same glowing property due to the sheer amount of energy kept within the substance. Whilst godstone are used as the base material of Pantheonic structures, auranite are used as energy weapon construct, mostly as some form of a power pack.

[Arcanite]

Arcanite is a crystalline mineral that contains, within it, raw vitas. Due to the conflicting nature of the Ether and the Material Plane, unrefined vitas that entered realspace are kept in a contained environment in the form of crystals. The physical material itself is only a container of etheric energy, a vessel for the mystical radiation. Wherein a direct link to the Ether into realspace would spell catastrophic results, the arcanite is a mean and a medium to access the immaterial domain without suffering the chaotic consequences of the anarchic dimension. The crystal itself varies in hue, dependent upon the type of vitas that are contained. There is a limit to how much vitas density can be contained within an arcanite; too much and it can become volatile, too little and it is near useless.

Color Code of Arcanite;

Blue: One that represents the purity of vitas inside, lacking chaos of the Ether. The energy structure is stable and non-volatile yet high in vitas concentration. Extremely rare.

Red: It is the opposite of blue, very chaotic and unstable. One of the most volatile and dangerous, this is a common process to an arcanite that reaches critical density.

Green: Those that had been engraved with solid sigil, meant that the arcanite can only generate a specific spellcraft depending on the runic structure inscribed upon it.

Purple: An arcanite that is in the precipice between chaotic volatility of red variant and the calm stability of the blue variant.

Grey: An average majority of the arcanite, it is the most common across the galaxy.

White: Those conjured by Pantheons, can only exist in Overscape. Very potent, once brought into realspace it would either dissolve or implode. The former is a more desirable outcome than the latter.

Black: Technically doesn't exist. Dark colour represents the void force, black crystals are referred to as nullstone. It emits an anti-magic aura, the opposite of arcanite. However its materialisation is almost similar to those of arcanite.

[Psycharapace]

Psycharapace is a unique esper based material manifest through the power of psychic. It is made from neurons of psychic sensitive entities, mostly non-sentient ones that are forged into living constructs. The material shares the physical appearance of white carapace with the tensile strength and durability several times more than plasteel. Psycharapace is very malleable to psychic powers but extremely resistant to physical attack. Some psycharapace are able to mend and regenerate itself like living tissue.

[END]

Rigid-matter/base-matter; elements exist and originate in realspace.

Astral-matter/ether-voxel; elements exist and originate in the astral plane.

Astral Plane

Aliases: Ether, Wraithspace, Immaterium/Incorporeum, Immaterial Domain, Metaphysica, Spirit World (by the elves), Riftspace, Mirror Realm, Othervoid

Description: A connective, parallel dimension occupied by the chaos of the incorporeal and the flexibility of metaphysical concepts. Due to its non-euclidean space, the Wraithspace acts as a medium for interstellar travel as well as being the source of all magic.

Realspace

Aliases: Rigidspace, Flatworld (by the dwarves), Monophysica, Material Plane, Base Domain, Greyspace (by the halfling), Nebulaeum, Corporus

Description: A solid, spatial dimension birthed from the chaos of the Ether. It is an existence governed by the four fundamental forces of the physical universe and the abode of all corporeal, celestial bodies.

Overscape

Aliases: Godspace, Cosmic Graveyard, Daemonfold, Aetheria, Omniphysica, Shiftspace, Sliver Domain

Description: Formed from the residual corpse of the Elder Ones. It houses several incorporeal entities; mainly the Pantheons and the daemons, however there also exists several spiritual-based organisms.