Sierratuere: Having armour engage in CQB with infantry goes against most existing military doctrine, but oh well. Maybe the technical disparity will make up for it. It'd be more rational to set a forward contact force away from the FOB to engage the mass of enemy, but that's only reasonable if there's manpower.Meh.A tripwire force would work just as well. Your artillery has almost limitless range right? They are described to literally shoot past orbit if not for some gravity fuckery. Even with such a limited number of assets available you could deploy a small 20-50 force and send a dispersal/surrender order, then proceed to blow the shit out of them if they refuse. Hell you could do it with drones and not take the personnel element. You may not kill all of them but that's not the point. It's to sow chaos, decapitate leadership and split enemy forces. 100 small meteors is better than 1 really big one.I believe that the original source material author played it out this way so we could have our beautiful fireworks show and cement the action as 'rightful defensive actions by the all benevolent extremely (totally not using cold war era equipment) powerful JSDF' (he's an ultranationalistic weirdo) but something like this is really dangerous if you've only got a handful of artillery and armor(I'm guessing less than 10-20 in total, APCs, Tanks, Pedal Arty), with a 100:1 ratio of opfor:blufor,CQB is something to be avoided whenever possible and especially when you're backed into a corner. I think you tried to address it with the alliance opening fire beyond the deadly force line (that's how I read it) but it doesn't seem like enough. Even then in the source material anime there was dozens of main battle tanks, mounted HMGs, and concertina wire was everywhere. (continue...)

A: Well this is mostly due I don't have much extensive knowledge on the military and admittedly my own fault, however one thing I do want to correct is that the artillery weapon doesn't actually have limitless range, that's more of a hyperbole, the plasma charge eventually dissipates at a certain distance because magic bullshitery - but it still covers at an extreme range so you are definitely right on that. About the drone parts... well, you are absolutely right. So I don't have much to say about that.

Oh and about the power steamroll don't worry, the Alliance is still well beyond the capability of the Falmart wizards and I intend to make the galactic side an overpowered boner stroking story with a little sprinkle of tension here and there. I don't intend to make their mages to be more powerful than a simple tank, they're just superior in power at least to the standard Alliance's infantry sorcerers but less skilled in using said power. Furthermore I would also like to add that yes, there will be more regarding the other space factions.

GREAT CELESTIAL-DRAGON: Guessing the unnamed planet for the continent of Falmart will be in a cross fight between two superpowers fighting over its magic, one to protect while bring the empire to justice for the attacks, the other wishes to no doubt conquer to safe their beloved immortal leader. It be interesting if some regard the Falmart humans as primitive savages and their counterparts as well. Should make a wiki or a story of the ideas you have as this Universe you describe seems promising.

A: well thank you and yeah I think it is pretty obvious that the other factions would be involved, aaand you hit the nail right on the head with that theory albeit with a few distinction in that details that I wouldn't dive into here.

I would be stoke to see someone actually make a wiki of it, but I very much doubt it. Still would be cool though.

Lord of Seven: Amazing, I like how you put quite an interesting limit to Terra in that they cannot risk to upset the high ranking politicians of the Alliance. I have a question though, what reason is there for the Alliance to put a non violent treaty and limits its weapon production if it is one of the most important planet (at least I assume that what the core world title mean), shouldn't they want it to be armed and secure?

Oh and other thing, I really like the ancient human mystique, the intrigue of it is very interesting. It's very reminiscent of the Forerunners in Halo. What I'm most curious however, shouldn't most of the planet in the galaxy already been colonized and terraformed by the old humans long ago? Shouldn't their structures be present, like, almost everywhere? What happen to ancient human city? Especially one in Terra, which I assumes must be overpopulated once ago right? If a new species rose from a planet that barely had soil or dirt, how can they develop?

I'm just curious, you probably had an answer already. Anyway, thank you and pls continue this one, I really, really like this fic and can't wait for the next chaps!

A: Well for your first question the main reason will be explained in future chapters but I think I already partially explain that Terra, being an ancient homeworld of the extinct humans holds quite a large numbers of ancient tech and thus pose a very big threat to the Alliance, at least during its early days... there's more to it than that I won't go into details so you'll just have to wait and see ;).

And for your second point, yes the ancient humans is practically inspired by the Forerunners of Halo, the Xel'naga in StarCraft and the Old Ones in Warhammer 40k. Again, your second question will be addressed in future chapters.

Ort: You know being how light interacts and all, isn't it possible for them to see ancient earth by just being far enough from it and look it from a distant?

A: The milky way galaxy is about a hundred thousand light-years in size. Humanity had been extinct in roughly the same time, albeit a little longer than that. Suffice to say, being how a hundred thousand years had passed, there wouldn't be any physical record of their civilisation anymore (unless of course you go beyond the galaxy).

Last Admiral: [Sorry, can't really fit the entire text]

A: Yeah I agree, the original Gate despite its interesting premise quickly plummeted in later chapters/episodes with all the issues it has and the fact that the original writer has his own flaws doesn't really help either. I guess that's the reason why there's so much Gate fanfic, it's those (like me) who's interested with the settings but slightly dissatisfied with the execution. I've even made a few adjustments with the way Sadera operates just to put sense in its culture and behaviour (like adding more mage and utilising more magic in their arsenal).

Babushkas truck: I want to address this before it's will turn a little too late, in the original JSDF there's a part where historical inaccuracies are shown like the concept of a Roman era soldier AND Victorian era maids (I'm judging by their attire btw).

I may be wrong because I just did a quick google search and the closest era I can think of where the early Middle Ages.

Come to think of it most fanfic lack one of the empire's military branches which would be the imperial navy, I mean as an empire that holds many ground it would be dumb for them to leave territorial water alone. I would really love to see if alliance space ship rip through imperial ships.

Feel free to correct me about my opinion.

Ok that aside I really love the concept of your fic. Laser and futuristic weapons would definitely kick ass for the imperials. I wonder what will happen for the factions from other side of the gate. Last time I read the discontinued fic the whole galaxy went each other's throat because of arcanite and now falmart has a truckload of those. Will there be a 2nd galaxy scale war in the future chapters? I can't wait to read those maybe after 50 chapters or so. If that did happen you can still blame hardy because she was curious or bored lmao.

A: Yep, Sadera is supposedly a reflection of the Roman Empire but got jumbled with a bit of Gothic Victorian style. I personally don't mind though, I assume that since it's a different planet with a different history, it will tend to produce different results - at least that's how I justify it.

I would to add however, there probably wouldn't be another full out galactic stage war but there will definitely be a LOT of conflict between the factions to have a monopoly on the world. Also, good point on the navy part, although I need to sse first how I couod insert that in the fic.

Wet nugget: Can't help but notice that king Duran here got knocked out or killed...? Because in the discontinued Clark fic he's the one coming to the alliance anyways can't wait for the next chapter.

A: The answer is in future chapter :).

Chapter Seven: Exploration

Coda Village, Falmart

The cloud had long parted the sky, the sun peeked between their dark veils, shining light unto the land.

For the town of Coda, it was just another uneventful day. Children ran and played at the dirt street, merchants and traders haggled prices as farmers tended to their crops.

Amongst the hundreds of commoners that go on with their daily lives, a blue haired girl hastily strode to the edge of the town, where a large, mismatched house was located. She catches her breath as her foot finally stepped within the parameter, her staff used as an inclined tool.

The girl glanced back at the structure with a passive stare, even when driven with exhaustion there wasn't much for her face to express.

"Ah, Lelei did you bring those fishes?" An old man called out from within as he stumbled and hastily opened the door, revealing a short, bearded elder clad in a thick layer of robe. He had an air of wisdom beneath the bumbling oaf he masked himself in, the man's ragged robe fluttered under the wind as he carried his aged legs to the girl.

The blue haired youth, a short bob hair with teal hued eyes barely curled her lips, the only mild indication of her annoyance. "It is here master, you don't have to be so impatient."

The old man scoffed, his arms stretched and yanked the bag from the girl's grasp. With a quick glance of the contents, he smiled. "This is perfect, tonight we are going to eat like kings!"

"I am certain kings don't eat marcarel, Master," uttered the girl stoically as she followed the man's hurried pace. She brushed away dirt off her dress with a wave of her staff, before she quickened her stride. "You also promised to train me today."

The old man sighed, slinging the bag to his back as he groaned at its weight. His wizened eyes spared a glance at his young disciple, reminiscing his early years when he was her age. "We'll train once we eat. A healthy body is a strong mind, Lelei. We've been doing nothing but training for the last weeks."

"Hmmm," the girl responded. The flat tone of her voice made it hard to tell whether she was dubious or genuine.

"Now quit your yapping and help me prepare this, I've left the pot at the back." The old man declared as he dragged himself and the bag inside the house. He waved his hand, spouted a brief incantation as the wind swirled and carried his hat to his head.

The soft thud of his footfalls echoed their hollow abode, only few furniture present inside along with litters of scattered books.

The old wizard, Cato El Altestan, was once a renowned sage who had paved the way to many new arcane discoveries and developments, especially his discovery of different coloured lightning. Now, an aged man, the wizard chose a quiet life near an unassuming village and took young, talented sorcerers under his guidance.

"The town lord hasn't visited Coda for awhile has he?" Cato exclaimed.

Lelei passively nodded, her movements so reserved that it was barely noticeable. "The local lord is said to have joined the expedition of the Gate."

"Bah! The Gate," Cato frowned. "Those pesky imperials, that thing is a sacred phenomena! A miracle from god. That emperor is quite full of himself ain't he?"

Lelei hummed in response, unable to give any insight of her own. She reached out with her staff, pushing away strands of cobweb in her path.

"If I have my way, I would like to study the portal." Cato exclaimed as he placed the bag to his side. "Imagine the kind of stuff we can learn from the other side."

Lelei perked, a common trait amongst the mages, the young lass was ever intrigued with the prospect of new knowledge. The existence of the Gate was a divine intervention, an act of gods. It was undeniable that what the Imperials were doing were almost blasphemous, an action undoubtedly stirred the ire of Hardy's followers.

Then however, as they were about to prepare for their meal, a voice called out from outside. Lelei swivelled her head, her impassive stare peered through the window where she caught sight of a child with a basket in hand.

"Go on and see Lelei. Seems like the chief's boy has something for us," Cato uttered as he pulled one of the marcarel from the back, gently placing it upon the wooden stool.

Lelei nodded, bringing her staff as she stepped outside. Her eyes roamed the boy's form. He was short, clad in white tunic shirt, black pants and a simple leather overcoat over his body. His pair of gleaming brown eyes reflected his beaming, innocent smile.

"Big Sis Lei!" He waved his hand enthusiastically, his body wobbled under his own motion. The boy gestured to his basket, one filled with bread. "Papa had brought you some bread!"

Lelei made her way to the boy, he was at least three years younger than she. The mage girl glanced at the basket, a slight glimmer in her retina was the only flicker of emotion expressed. "Rasmus, you should stop calling me that. What did you bring today?"

"It's Auntie Felicia's own bread, Papa asked me to say thanks to Old Grump for fixing his roof," asserted the boy.

Lelei nodded as she got hold of the basket, the smell was appetising. She took note of the plump and rich texture of the bread, a quality of work she recognised to be from the bakery store just a few walks from the house.

"Thank you, please send my regards to the village chief." Lelei monotonously uttered, albeit dripped with a hint of genuine gratitude.

The boy giggled as he left and waved his hands. "Enjoy the bread!"

Helberia Mount, Falmart

Deep within the now dormant volcano of Helberia, once used by a long forgotten, ancient god who unleashed their wrath upon the land, it was where the great Crimson One currently slumbered.

His size dwarfed fortresses. His body coated in thick red, impenetrable scales which were also invulnerable to many forms of magic. His wings cast great shadows over the land below, carrying a weight not possible for a beast of its size.

The Flame Dragon, an ancient beast that strikes great fear to all mortal races. It had been akin to a natural disaster, the work of mother nature in a physical form. With a cascade of infernal torrent, he expelled a great pillar of god flame wherein it burned and charred the ground, turning entire kingdoms into ashes and left only the charred remains of molten land.

The creature slumbered for centuries, spending most its time in its hulking abode where it dreams of fire and storm. The awakening of the great dragon was reminiscent of an incoming of a storm, a time where all mortals dreaded. Yet such time was not to come for the next half a century - or so it was supposed to be.

The outer lips of the cavernous hollow was met with the presence of a winged reptilian humanoid creature. She was scantily clad in some form of a priesthood attire. Her skin was a deep blue, with tribal markings spread across her body both natural and man-made. Her crimson eyes lit in the dark, scanning the place. Attached to her spine were a pair of massive, membrane wings with harsh orange tone to the webbed skin.

The woman's white hair fluttered against the wind, both coming from the howling swirl of the outside and the resonant breathing of the slumbering beast. She took the moment to appreciate the cold wind, rarely ever finding joy in such temperature.

The draconian sauntered her way inside, the cold slowly fleeted, replaced with the emanating heat inside. Through her heat-sight, the winged woman could see the thermal source at the centre of the hollow mountain. Like a large ember, a pyre of hidden flame, it lit the area like a beacon.

Her lips curved to a subtle smile, her hips swayed as she finally made her way to her prized possession. The woman gazed at the beast in admiration, a creature that represents the concept of power itself. The Flame Dragon was amongst one of the few leviathans kept by her mistress, and the only one she was fond of due to their shared draconic blood.

Her wings shuffled, before they unravelled themselves, displaying the pride of a draconian. With a kick, she leapt and glided the air, encroaching the hibernating dragon. Once her foot safely planted to the rocky terrain, the woman happily twirled and tapped the giant dragon with the blunt end of her oversized scythe.

The draconian frowned when the dragon was still asleep, its heated breath flowing with fiery fume. Annoyed, she slammed the beast harder with her scythe, finally stirred it from its slumber.

Great tail-coil slithered, its massive size rumbled the very ground. A pair of powerful legs grappled the rocks beneath, cracking in as its claws dug deep. The air swirled excitedly when the dragon's breath grew in potency, each exhale warmed the cavernous interior. With a flicker of flame escaping its sharp teeth filled jaw, it clenched its maw, a low but resonant growl echoed the mountains.

The draconian woman smirked, placing her scythe on her shoulder as the large leviathan began to flap its massive wings, violently trashed wind around itself.

"Go on, wreck chaos for the Mistress please."

Its baleful eyes glared at the small being, a bestial snarl escaped its throat before it eventually took in the air, gaining altitude with its colossal wings.

Alnus Hill, Falmart

The battle was not particularly risky or overtly difficult, but it was far from being effortless. Two thousand Enforcers returned, with only a few suffered from cosmetic damages. If such an odd was against anything else in the unforgiving galaxy, casualties would definitely be much higher. Thus, even with the frustration, there was a slight sense of relief and gratefulness.

The prisoners they captured were numerous, and not many of which were mentally sound. The tedious and arduous process of telepathic intrusions left many espers psionically exhausted, albeit their efforts bear fruitful results. The revelation that the Empire's vast influence over the continent left a sour taste to the High Commands as they assess the situation properly.

"Twenty two kingdoms... we have to assume each of them with at least half a million soldiers," the elven Tertiary General spoke.

"We don't have enough drones to cover the entire landmass or one advanced enough to reach that kind of distance," the lamia muttered. Her tail flickered annoyedly, with her fingers subtly tapped upon the polymedium projector table.

"Forget it. Whatever fuckery those other kingdoms want to do will not concern us anymore, I doubt they wanted to retaliate after what we did," Vando puffed a swirling soot from his lips, the bio-cigar dangled between his fingers. "But, in the slightest chance that they do, I've collect quite a few lists of agents that can keep any eye on them-"

"Agents?"

"Covert operatives," Vando smirked.

The elf in question blinked before he furrowed. "We don't have enough Reaper for twenty two kingdoms."

"I ain't say anything about sending Null Agents. This world is primitive Laeldryn, an old school method, works just fine," replied the dwarf. "We've got sixty of them ready to be deployed soon, though I'm afraid it won't be in effect for at least the next few days."

"We have covert operatives, that isn't the Reapers?" The halfling of the group questioned.

"Krymm Operatives, specialised covert agents straight from Luna," Vando added. "They're a three-man's squad each, fitted with the latest camotech and morph devices. I've attached their names to the datascape so feel free to give your judgement."

"Krymm? Why am I not made aware of this?" The lamia shifted, leaning forward. Though subtle, the brusque tone in her voice was noticeable, her eyes studied the dwarf intently.

Vando was unperturbed, staring directly at her with a flat tone. "You shouldn't. It is supposed to be classified, well at least until now."

"Classified?" Laeldryn interjected, equally irritated. "Since when did Terra have any classified military operatives?"

"Since the Death War, but that's not important. The other kingdoms aside, we have to quickly assess our situation and get a good grasp of our environment. So far, all of our intel are merely orally and telepathically gathered, certainly far from perfect."

The rest of the generals uneasily stared at each other, the air of discomfort hung. The lamia, especially, was most discontented. The idea that someone as high ranking as her being kept a secret from another of the same stature didn't bode well with her.

"I... have settled a recon crew, they're from the White Night platoon. More specifically, the Moonhawk squad," the elf uttered, pushing away his sense of unease. "A four unit squad, a kitsune squad captain, a harpy aerial operative, a Reaper and an elven combat magus. From records, they're all quite the squad. High class performance, near perfect quality. Their leader especially..."

"Hendrick Jaeldabor, a Northern Red Ear. High candidate for a potential Vastator recruit," the lamia chimed in as she read through the files, a hint of surprise beneath her flat tone.

"Vastator? Holy shit," the halfling uttered.

"I see... Well, I have no qualm in sending them. Might want to contact the two champions though," Vando remarked.

"Psyche and Guardian, why?" Frowned the elf.

Vando tapped his bio-cigar before he once more inhaled its biochemical fume. "We don't know what kind of shit is out there. Let me remind you that the entity who opens that Gate is potentially a Pantheon. Deploying a future Vastator recruit only for him to die is unacceptable, we cannot risk that."

"I still cannot believe we have a Vastator candidate in our department. Since when?" The lamia groaned, placing a hand to her temple.

"That's a lot of stuff we're not supposed to know about, Slither."

Eastside Mess Hall, Alnus Hill

The mess hall, a large complex structure of sleek, pristine and minimalist design. Pearlescent white with streak of raven black across the walls and ceilings. White luminate crystals, minerals forged from the alchemical fusion of heliomancy runes and glassinite materials, the material illuminated the place, enveloping the room with a bright, stark silver light.

Rows of levi-tables and levi-chairs occupied most of the space, with maintenance drones fluttered about.

Numerous races of fae gathered for lunch, the place crowded with men and women from Luna chattered amongst themselves, enjoying each other's company. They shared stories, interest and experience.

Amidst the crowd, the four members of the Moonhawk squad sat within each others' company. Jordan especially, was most chatty amongst them, recalling the story of a year old film. A discussion that was heatedly engaged with the ivory elf.

"-Raynmar wouldn't slice the heartstone if he wasn't backstabbed by the Sun Warrior. Obviously, you have to take into account that his commitment to the Star Legion is very substantial to the plot," Jordan exclaimed, flapping his wing in a very animated motion.

Aerulle tapped her stellarune wristband as holographic projection materialised. "But the Sun Warrior betrayal only happened because Raynmar was treating his friend like shit. Look here, remember the desert scene?"

"Well I..." The harpy paused, his eyes squinted before he responded. "As far as I remember it was the Urkhi Oracle who showed him the vision of that, so it's not entirely his fault."

"Ahh, but it is partially his fault," Aerulle beamed. "Raynmar is an asshole of a protagonist."

Hendrick sat silently at the side as he listened to their conversation, only getting glimmer of it. The kitsune was an avid fan of the Heartstone franchise, he especially enjoyed the original trilogy. However even with his keen interest, the man couldn't catch up the deep lore the two members of his team divulged in.

The squad captain averted his gaze to the silent amongst them. The kobold peacefully enjoyed her draconian noodle as her ears flickered back and forth, secretly listening in to their conversation.

"You're okay, Enigma?" Hendrick half whispered.

The kobold perked, both her dark eyes pierced his'. Normally, for a void-wielder, also known as nullifiers, to make a direct eye contact causes a dreaded sense of discomfort as their miasmic aura leaked through the window of their souls. However, Enigma was a Null Agent, the talented assassin of the Reaper - it was one of their earliest training to suppress their aura at a young age.

"I am a bit lost," she spoke tersely, none of her tone fluctuating. Her face was equally unreadable, a constant impassive feature plastered on it. "However, I do find their discussion to be... entertaining."

Hendrick smirked, "I should show you Heartstone one day. One of the best sco-fi ever made in my opinion."

"Sco-fi?" Enigma tilted her head, her ears flicked forward.

"Sorcery fiction. Man, you really need to start watching or read something," Hendrick commented. "There's more to life than just meditation and... y'know, killing."

Enigma flinched, her ears flickered for a fraction of a second before her lips curled down. It was the closest she could get to a frown, and one Hendrick noticed very much.

"Sorry," he breathed out, pointing the fork to her. "I know it's all in the 'Creed' and all that, and I don't mean to come off as being disrespectful to the Reaper tradition - and hell, your institution alone helps during Death War. That being said, you really need to find a new hobby."

The kobold stared at the kitsune, her face still as a statue. "Is that an order?"

"No - I mean... yeah, kinda?"

A proper conversation, outside of a professional situation was always awkward with their resident Reaper. That doesn't mean that any of them ever gave that up. Though slow, she had made little progress beyond being another one of the Reapers Division's mindless drone.

The agents of the Reaper rarely ever meddle with other sub-faction of the Enforcers, but not to say that it was uncommon enough that it be a strange occurrence. The Reaper was an enigmatic institution, with many of its internal systems still remained unknown and much of its knowledge guarded with jealousy.

Due to their deep involvement with the void, many complex techno-sorcery were difficult to develop and required extensive and tedious processes just so that their nullifying presence wouldn't disrupt the runic construction. Thus it was why their development in warp travel was rather slow, something the Alliance provided greatly.

Hendrick had read a lot regarding the history of the Enforcer, it was one of the few ways to pass time in deployment and to learn more of their origin.

Enigma resumed her consumption, politely slurping the long, wet noodles. Its strange, almost scale-like texture slithered into her lips.

Hendrick sighed, it was his duty to keep track and ensure the state of his squad was well, as it was his responsibility to keep them healthy both physically and mentally. He wasn't sure the emotional effect of someone deprived of their childhood innocence, but he was confident that such a thing wouldn't be good for someone's social skill in life.

"-the Cronus Blade belonged to the Last King. If I remember correctly, there's sixteen azorith gems in that sword," Jordan said, almost squawking.

Hendrick found himself chuckling at their continued debate. "Jordy, Aer, I think you both better start eating now. Your stasis bowl can only keep the food warm for so long."

Jordan blinked, quickly averting his attention back to his polymeric bowl. The rakka soup stirred calmly inside, being subtly manipulated by the runes engraved on the bowl. There was an egg at the centre, with a pair of spherical blobs at the side. The harpy immediately grabbed the egg and ate it along with its shell, the content rolled and slid into his throat, leaving a gooey portion to hang at the edge of his lips.

Hendrick shuddered before he diverted his stare, there was just something unsettling seeing a bird fae eating an egg. However, he supposed he shouldn't be the person to say that when he was dining on Lartana Terran vulpine.

Aerulle sat and ate her Martian vegetables, the only kind of food she preferred.

"Wiff wef' coulgh 'xplore dith place," Jordan spoke with his mouth full.

"Well we have to wait for High Command first before we get to explore. Also, Jord' please eat first before you speak."

Unknown Location, Alnus Hill, Falmart

The darkness clouded him before light returned to blind his vision. Duran, the King of Elbe, found himself in an unfamiliar location. His eyes darted the place, groggily at first, before slowly driven by panic.

The walls had a clean, lustrous, sheen to its texture. Complex hexagonal patterns of glowing crystals shone above his head, their structure encompassed the ceiling. Duran found himself restrained, all of his limbs held by metallic constraints of some sort, with a metal slab against his back.

The royal blood felt the warm air of his breath escape his lips as he gasped, a swirl of vapour danced before his nostrils.

"You're awake," an unfamiliar, melodic voice broke the silence.

Duran turned, snapping his neck as he studied the person. He was a centaur, with black coat over his lower body and clad in strange greyish uniform. The man's dark hair was a contrast to the brightness of the room, both eyes glistened with a hint of emerald hue.

"Your biology is fascinatingly similar to the elves, yet all too different at the same. Perhaps your kind is a subspecies of elves we don't know about?" The centaur continued with his ramble, his hooves clopped against the solid floor, echoing in the room. "Then again, I suppose that's is not me to judge, huh?"

Duran remained silent, confusion plagued his mind as he tried his best to make sense of his surroundings. The interior of the room was divine in its design and architecture, almost seems like it was carved and forged by the delicate hands of Zumfruut and his light angels.

"Hi, the name is Splinter. I know it sounds strange, trust me it sounds way cooler in my native tongue," smiled the centaur, unnervingly polite. He flicked his fingers, now Duran noticed to be made of metal. The king's eyes bulged from its socket, his lips parted as a small gasp escaped his throat. The centaur flicked his small ears at that reaction before chuckling. "Don't be alarmed, it's just prosthetic. You'll learn what it means soon enough."

"W- who are you, what is this place, where am I?" Duran croaked, cringed at the pathetic state of his voice.

"Hmm? I thought I already told you who I am?" The centaur tilted his head before he beamed. "Oh right of course, that's not what you meant. That Null Agent must've knocked your head pretty hard eh?"

Duran stared, even more confused than before. He tried to struggle against his restraint only to find them firmly held. The man suppressed his fear, gazing carefully at the demi-human. "What are you intending to do to me?"

"Wait for a bit, this is going to tickle," said the centaur before a strange incorporeal manifestation appeared from his wrist. Duran blinked, before anything could be said, he felt his mind buckled. A sudden rush of memory assaulted his conscience, terrible destruction and catastrophe threatened to choke his consciousness. In a flash of a second, he gasped for air, struggling to comprehend all he had remembered.

"Y- you!" Duran stammered, sweating profusely. "What did you do!?"

"Yeesh, just giving your mind a bit of a memory jog. Calm down will ya?" The centaur flexed his wrist and the ethereal image shimmered to nonexistence.

Duran stared, his breathing laboured. "Y- you're the people of the Gate."

"One of many, yes," the demi-human replied as he picked up a strange, cylindrical instrument before hovering it over Duran's body, much to the man's discomfort. "Hmmm, your sweat glands are quite impressive. Must've been the reason for your species' incredible endurance."

"What nonsense you speak of, centaur?" Frowned Duran, hiding his fear behind a stern tone.

"Nothing important to you. Now, all of that out of the way, we can finally talk," smiled the equine subhuman. "The telepaths can only grab so much from your brain. Y'see, there's too much neuron activity in a person's frontal lobe, and that had always been the case with many sapient species... save for the goblins but let's not get too deep into that, hmm?"

"End this riddle, beastman. Just tell me what you desire," Duran exclaimed.

"Hmm, you're quite calm aren't you? Well, if you like to get to business we can do just that."

Shimmering, spectral, light materialised in the air, great flicker of sparks danced the empty space before they conjured into a flat, ethereal image. It was the image of the Gate, Alnus Hill and the scene of their last battle, if it could be called as such.

The centaur ignored the perplexed and awed expression of the human as he stepped closer to the holographic projection. The AI assessed his gestures and quickly scanned the army of the battlefield before it presented several different emblems and flags unto the front, a perfect immaterial replica of their national symbol.

"Ah this. These are the flags and symbols of twenty two different factions, not very creative if you ask me," smirked the centaur, earning a slight ire from the captured king. "All of them, attacking our people. Why?"

"Torture me if you will, there is nothing to gain from me. I am defeated," breathed out Duran dejectedly. He was half surprised that the centaur hadn't started with the usual interrogation process yet. Perhaps this one was less barbaric than the one of his world.

The centaur's tail flickered, "how about no? There is plenty of stuff you can tell me, Duran."

At that, the king lifted his head with widened eyes. "I haven't told you my name..."

The equine creature shrugged, "who knows, maybe one of your men told us about you?" His face shifted to a smile, "maybe we can read minds?"

"There are others who survived...?" The Elbian King muttered, clinging to what little hope left in him. He had seen the destructive power of their weapons and magic, how they harness the very force of gods themselves.

"Maybe?" The centaur remarked, placing one hand on his hips. "Maybe not, who knows? The point here is that you are in our custody, and depending on your answer maybe we can help you out."

"What do you mean? What can I gain from you?" Duran hesitated, although doubt festered his mind, he also was cornered and with no sign of escape.

"I don't know, you tell me."

Duran was assaulted once more with the memory of the accursed battle. He gritted his teeth, sharply inhaling air into his lungs.

The ground rumbled in protest after it had been violated by the screeching nightmare of their hellish magic.

Rainfalls of both water and ethereal darts struck his men with ceaseless, unrelenting torrent. Their feet drenched in blood and mud of their comrades, trying hard to ignore chunks of molten flesh and disemboweled organs that decorated the dead field.

Amongst the somber shadow of heavy rainfall, Duran could see the looming silhouette of an armoured beast. Its body barely visible under the blanket of downpour, a glimmer of its terror-inducing rod of destruction. The deep hymn of its iron throat reverberated the soil and the air, the water puddles writhed in its presence.

That memory however, replaced by a flicker of another moment in time, in another place. He was in his chamber now, slowly unfolding the recently received letter of the Imperial. The envelope piece smells of fresh oak, the paper inside displaying the proud insignia of Sadera.

The contents within it was rather simple, a meager request from the emperor. Duran closed the letter with very little thoughts behind it.

The memory stopped, his breath returned but his serenity did not. Duran heaved, every flow of air was a burden to his lungs, his heart drummed rapidly. His eyes glazed, driven by a flurry of blurred emotions. His mouth agape, taking as much oxygen as he can as his chest rose and fell at every unsteady inhale.

"W- what..." He sputtered, his lips felt dry, his throat groaned as it struggled to salivate itself.

The centaur flicked his finger and a small cylindrical flying bug-creature approached with a cup of water. "Open your mouth," said the beastman.

Duran did not fight against it as he felt the cold sludge of the liquid slide into his esophagus. He coughed once. The man took a moment to recover and recollect himself.

"Sorry, memory re-emergence is a bit tricky thing to do," said the centaur.

"The Empire..."

"Hmmm yes? Care to tell me what you saw? For your information, there's very little sense I could make from garbled neural messages," the demi-human added. "That is something only a Beta class could do."

Duran ignored the centaur's rants, his mind still focused upon the flickers of wandering images that pervaded his thoughts. He blinked, fully processing his mind. A new, profound revelation slithered at the corners of his conscience, whispered into him of the ultimate truth. The Empire was the enemy all along.

Unknown Plains, Falmart

The scattered, broken remains of madmen roamed the land. Shame, guilt and despair filled their beating heart. They had lost it all, their pride, their strength and the support of their kingdom.

For many amongst them, it was the end of their career, the end of their prior life. No longer were they worthy to be within their land, for they had shamed them.

The soldiers were fragmented, they dispersed into the trees, forming small bands amongst themselves. With what little weapons they held, they carried it with reluctance.

Fifty men, from thirteen kingdoms found themselves stuck together in an unlikely situation, forming an unlikely bond. They shared their stories, their misfortune and their regrets as they gathered around the campfire, huddled together in the cold.

"I used to hunt with my Pa in midsummer in the woods, he would tell me that I'd be a great warrior," uttered the former soldier as his eyes glued on the crackling whispers of the fire. "I guess you can see how that turns out."

The rest nodded, none smiled nor chuckled. They shared the same predicament, the same story.

"They lied to us," another warrior grumbled. "They lied to all of us. Those are not the barbarians we were promised, they weren't the savages we expected."

"Aye, but that is nothing we could do," another chimed in, his voice sounds of defeat. The man looked up the starry night, his eyes glazed at the dazzling jewels of gods. "I heard that some of those wayward beastfolk conscripts are hunting us..."

"Hah, as if some mere pariah could do anything against us!"

"Yet still, is it our fate to wander this arid land like skittering vermins? Do you wish to live your life forever as an outcast? Even now, undoubtedly, our kings and their nobles would want our heads, hunting those who had deserted," the man continued somberly.

"Then we unite," a mage amongst them voiced, his ragged and stained robe was a far cry from the majesty that it once was. "We gather and we fight. Our states don't want us anymore? Then we don't need them, we can survive on our own. We can take back what those imperial scums had taken from us!"

"How? Not that I disagree, but we are nothing but scattered remnants. The Imperials possess beasts and mages far beyond even you, what you speak of is almost delusional," the previous man uttered, his opinion shared amongst the rest.

"Then we will start small, we need to reinvigorate our strength. We are defeated, yes but not broken. You are warriors, once the prideful guardians of your abode. Use that strength, warriors. There are many villages around these provinces, many were unguarded and many of which hold necessary resources for our campaign."

"Are you... suggesting a raid?" Exclaimed the man, furrowing as he did.

"Is there any other choice, Knight of Alguna?"

The man, a former warrior of the Algunian Kingdom fell to silence as he watched the fate of his future shift and fall to damnation, forever locked away from Emroy's paradise. He did not find himself smiling, not frowning, only a blank contemplation as he realised his life as a soldier forever shackled away, becoming the very thing he swore to fight against.

Military Hangar, Alnus Hill, Falmart

Within the yet-to-be-named compound, many personnels buzzed about. Countless vehicles roamed the land, doing everything they could to observe, analyse and report anything they found to be important.

Men and women of Luna were keen with their mission, not a single one faltered at their tasks. Out of five thousand, only a few chose to voyage the new world.

Amongst them were the four unit squad, the Moonhawk squad from the White Night platoon. Their leader, a kitsune, stood before his team. They were small in number, but very skillful individuals each one of them. A sorcerer, a void-wielder, an awrial specialist and a potential Vastator recruit. It was not common amongst the Enforcers, and certainly wasn't common amongst the Lunar Department.

The once green meadow, now a large open field covered in composite polymedium with several hemispherical structures holding several hundreds vehicles.

The fabrimacon droids never fail to impress Hendrick, their haste work were always admirable but never to be acknowledged for they were nothing more than mindless automatons. The bright orange of their metal husk was a stark contrast to the soft hue of its surroundings, a deliberate choice made to alert those near its presence.

"Okay folks, listen up," Hendrick spun his head to face the macro-sergeant, a raptor harpy with a scar across his eye. Unlike the raven harpy like Jordan, his talons were sharper, his wings ended in jagged feathers instead of soft pinions. The sergeant's face had sharper features to his expression, both the results of his species' nature as well as being a veteran officer.

The twenty men and women who stood before the raptor harpy straightened themselves, with their hands, or something equivalent, motioned to their back. There were seven vehicles behind their back, three of which were Ursas and the other four, a combination of several APC.

"The drones had surveyed the land at a minimum of a hundred klicks. There's about several settlements around these areas, probably local residents under the citizenry of the Empire. Make no mistake, we don't know who or what they are and where their loyalty stands but for the sake of our future, we don't want the local community against us. First impressions are always important, remember that."

Hendrick found himself subconsciously nodding at that, recalling the field training he had done in the past. It's all about controlling the masses and preventing unnecessary bloodshed.

"Here is the route that will be given to you, it's an overall three miles journey, more or less. We will be keeping you updated along the way in case there's any new developments. I also want information, get anything you can from the locals - their economy, society and culture - I don't care. Terra would want this world in the next century so keep that in mind, this isn't just a military operation, this is an interplanetary colonisation. So please, don't fuck it up."

Aerulle raised her brow at that, the elf was aware how valuable the arcanite of this world was and knew how much Terra, and by extension, the Alliance would want their hand immediately on that. Were they expecting for them to encounter an arcanite deposit immediately? Probably not, but the intent was pretty blatant.

The sergeant continued, "now. It's a dangerous world out there, so we provide you with insurance - well two of them, actually."

Aerulle felt her breath hitched when the two individuals in question appeared. Her reaction shared with the others, a growing sense of awe, excitement and nervous spread. Some even audibly gasped, whispering to themselves.

"Guardian of Light, Lucas Bright," the silver haired nekomata asserted, his soft yet imposing voice rang. He was clad in a custom-built Wright Class armour, the soft creamy white of the plated padding blended well with the stark black underneath the plates. His iconic Vestige, weapons of divine, hung limply to his maglock belt.

"Queen of Psychic, Emily Pluton," an auburn/hazelnut, wavy haired kitsune. Her eyes glowed with a sharp amber hue. Attired in her battle-dress, a blend between a blouse and a combat suit, along with black fitted pants underneath. One of the few espers whose powers exceeded the need for any augmentation.

"Holy shit," breathed out Aerulle, thankfully with a soft whisper.

Hendrick agape but quickly recovered, however still unable to hide the sense of astonishment in his eyes. Jordan was less subdued, flapping his wings excitedly. The two of the most respected legends in the history of the Alliance, the pair of the greatest champions the galaxy had to offer.

Even the sergeant couldn't hide his smirk. "For those still not yet educated, these two are heroes of Death War. They-"

"Thank you Macro-sergeant Olyster, but that is enough. We will take it from here," uttered the nekomata.

The sergeant blinked before he nodded. "Of course, Lord Bright. Go ahead."

The apostle cleared his throat, eyes scanning the twenty Enforcers, the majority of which were the Terrestrial Troopers.

"Hi hello, I won't keep you long so bear with me. I know the prospect of wandering the new world isn't really a novel experience anymore and I'm sure a lot of you had plenty of exposure with extraterrestrial deployment. However, please do keep in mind that the natives of this world don't even know other worlds exist, let alone the concept of space itself. There is going to be a lot more than language barrier that will be ahead of you, we are dealing with an entirely new species in an entirely new sector of space. Even the feral worlds of the Outer Region had probably heard of the Alliance, but this is different. I know some of you seek vengeance, something to kick the Empire in its balls and I'm here to remind you that these people are not it."

Hendrick silently nodded, it was a fact he understood quite well. The rest of the Enforcers shared the same sentiment as they hummed their affirmatives.

"So... from what I understand-" Lucas glanced at the sergeant inquisitively. "-you will be divided into two, correct?"

"One to the west, the other to the east," the sergeant huffed. "You will be accompanying those of the west."

Lucas quirked his brow, "what about the other group?"

"They won't be far from the command base, their purpose isn't to meet with local settlements," explained the raptor harpy. "There are a lot of unknown faunas around here, we need to keep track of them."

"Noted," Lucas muttered.

Koan Forest, Falmart

The village of Koan was entirely dominated by the high elves, the trees were their abode and the forest were their bastion. Against the imperial threats and native beasts, the proud vegetation of Wareharun's gift had provided them plenty of protection against their aggression.

As masters of spiritual magic, none of the humans dared to approach the elves, although such a thing wouldn't be out of their capability.

The peaceful residents of Koan had lived amongst the tall lorkhan trees since the dawn of their ancient empire, one that predates the Imperials and their relentless regime. They were once the dominator of the world, the master of its realm and the forger of civilisation.

The trees and the grass heed their every command, the spirits guarded them like great wardens. However, such a history was long forgotten, their previously proud empire fell by their own hands and the intervention of primordial gods that existed before the current twelves.

Now, nothing more than humble dwellers of the forest, the high elves lived a peaceful and tranquil life. Everything was made for the betterment of their people, though the concept of innovation and growth were absent in their culture, the high elves were especially still a potent sorcerer.

Their spells might not be as efficient or quick as the humans, but it possesses a raw mana beyond those of the other races. They could summon lightning, bend swathes of wind, conjure great rain if needed be; of course, due to the rather slow, tedious and inefficient nature of their magic, they were slowly being pushed back by the weaker yet more efficient sorcery of the human empire.

Hodor Marceau, a huntsman ranger of the Koan village, stood above one of many bridges in the forest, carved to perfection by the artisan and spirit casters of the village. He was vigilant and unwavering, his sight constantly maintained. Even the softest rustle of the wind caught his attention.

His height was average in elven standard, but slightly taller than humans'. His sharpened, diamond tip ears often flicked. His hair was bright gold, fluttering under the soft wind. His delicate hand carefully grasped around his self-crafted bow, with pointed arrows along his quiver.

"Wareharun's warmth blesses us today, Hodor," another ranger stated as he approached. His orange tinge hair tied to a bun, with a few bangs hung in front of his eyes. The elf threw Hodor and an apple, in which the man caught. "This is Irisha's own fruit."

"Oh, did she give it to you?" Hodor smiled, knowing well the relationship of the ranger and the gardener.

The young ranger sheepishly smiled before he chose to sit beside the veteran ranger. "Yeah, she gave it to me herself. She even complimented my hunt yesterday!"

"Calm yourself, boy," Hodor chuckled, reminding himself of his youthful days, when Tuka had yet to be born. "You are speaking of the chief's daughter."

At that, the young elf deflated.

Hodor would've continued before he heard a deep growl at far distant. His ears twitched, and so did the young ranger. The elf glanced at the source of the disturbance, frowning to himself. He had recognised countless beasts that wandered the forest, but none matched the bestial power of such voice.

"Do you heard that?" The young man muttered tentatively, uncertainty crossed his face as his fingers tightly wrapped around his bow.

"Stay here," commanded Hodor as he walked the bridge, attempting to take a closer look. His gaze drifted at several other rangers who shifted from their positions, a few of them had their bows drawn out.

The veteran elf made his way to another party of huntsmen, finding the leader, he addressed the tall elf.

"May I know what is happening here?" Hodor inquired.

The rest of the elves turned, the leader amongst them revealing the concerned scowl of his face. "Hodor, it is nice to see you. Some of the rangers reported to have spotted a large creature roaming the forest. They claimed it might be a dragon."

"A dragon?" Hodor breathed out, visibly worried. "What kind?"

"We have no idea. Until we have-"

A voice bellowed from a distance, followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps. Hodor turned to see what had disturbed their conversation, a group of five huntsmen rangers were running towards them, yelling wildly.

Hodor furrowed, baffled at their behaviour but unnerved at the same. However, as they quickly closed the gap, their unintelligible shouts grew audible and comprehensive, slowly draining the colour of those within earshot.

"The Flame Dragon is here! The Flame Dragon is here!"

Tuka Marceau, a relatively young elven maiden and the daughter of Hodor Marceau, being the only child of her family was very close to her father. She dreamt of her childhood, when her mother was still alive and well, when she was under the shade playing a traditional instruments of her father's song.

It was a peaceful dream, one of joy and excitement, a recollection of old memories. However, her idyllic dream quickly shattered when she was rudely awakened by her own father, his usually calm face marred with fear.

"Tuka, we need to go!" He exclaimed, his voice so fast it sounded like a blur to her groggy mind.

The young elf blinked twice, confused to what could've caused her father's outburst. She glanced around and saw the harsh orange hue outside the window, it was fire.

She felt the treehouse buckled, the objects within shook and fell, some shattered. Her previously dazed mind snapped to reality, quickly realising that everything was amiss. "F- father, what is going on?"

There was screaming outside and more of the terrifying crackle of flames. Had the Imperials finally attacked? Then she saw a glimpse of terror before her eyes, a crimson silhouette prowled outside. Its red scale glistened under the light of its own flames. Its deep, amber, slitted eyes flared like the death it wrought.

Tuka gasped, her body shook in disbelief. Truly she must still be dreaming. She felt the harsh tug of her father, and she was pulled off her feet. She felt her house groaned, the trunk bent as it was whipped by something big and heavy. She felt her foothold wavered as the very floor slanted, the maiden elf yelped.

She glazed her surroundings, her fear only grew intense as the smell of burning wood pierced her nose. "Father!"

"Come with me!" The ranger elf exclaimed. He yanked his daughter just as the silhouette of the dragon crawled past them, its imposing figure stalked the forest with careless steps.

Dozens of magic powered arrows propelled by the winds of the spirits, they watched in despair as the beast merely shrugged away their fruitless endeavour. Its mighty wings beat the air, creating a whirlwind of its own localised storm. The crimson lizard gazed its struggling prey, watched as they unleash torrents of tiny prickles upon its hardened skin.

The air around it wavered and swirled, absorbed into its bestial throat as the wind grew hot in its lungs. Swathe of mystical alchemy conjure strange elements within its invulnerable innard. Then with a powerful huff, a large lance of blazing flame rose through the air and danced amidst the withering trees.

Several huntsmen warriors discharge neverending volley of arrows, desperation clawing their hearts. No matter what manner of attack pattered against its hide, the creature does not falter.

One of them, a shaman spirit whisperer, she held out her hand. Arcane powers manifested through the tips of her fingers as a sphere of energy was conjured. The spirits answered her prayers, the air around her crackled as the power within her writhed like coiling snakes. The sky darkened, the air danced under the deadly rhythm. With a whisper, a single chant, the shaman hurls the power of the spirit upon the dragon.

Great streaks of lightning hailed from above, it thundered against the land, cracking the ground and fissured the soil. Yet the dragon stood still, merely angered at the provocation. Its savage glare brought towards the shivering elf, her powers already drained and unusable till the next day.

Enraged, the dragon responded with the fury of a thousand flames, pillars of great concentrated heat burnt through the ground and the trees behind her, left only the flicker of raging embers.

Tuka was disoriented and dazed, still driven by confusion and fear. She watched as her world crumbled before her. Ancient, immortal trees collapsed as malevolent flames licked its withered woods. Great structures built from generations fell under mere moment, torrent of heat consumed it all.

Everything was but a blur to her, only the screams and cries of terror that assaulted her senses. The air around her felt hot and dry, the ground shook as the dragon took step. Tuka heard a crackle and spun her head, countless tall trees buckled and fell under the weight and heat of the dragon. She saw glimmers of men and women, rangers of Koan, fought relentlessly against an unstoppable tide.

The large beast easily erased their effort with but a single breath.

Tuka felt her foot slipped and her body tumbled, her hand dragged for a moment before their grip loosened. She looked up, her father quickly spun to his feet, revealing the fear of his face. He was always so calm, so composed, it pains her to see such a dichotomy upon his face.

"Tuka!?" He rushed, aiding his daughter to her feet.

"I - I am fine," the young elf felt the wind screeched, the heat grew unbearable, the screams grew intolerable. Tuka glanced back and saw as the beast drew closer. "Father-"

"Follow me!" Hodor yelled, half dragging his daughter across the fiery infested forest.

She saw a well, the old water well built by the predecessor of the Koan high elves, one that predates their current village, a well that had existed since the peak of ancient elven civilisation. Then she felt the wind blow harshly behind her, Tuka turned to only caught glimpse of a large crimson figure, before she was suddenly hurled into the well.

Her eyes widened, her lips parted as her throat forced her voice. Tuka watched as time slowed for her, an image of her father's smiling face bore down to her, before flame and darkness consumed her vision.

Unknown, Falmart

Two Ursas roamed the conveniently available strip of road, or at least what could be vaguely considered as one. Their metal hide was an oddity amongst the endless greenery, and the ever present hymn of their gravitic engine drove most small animals away.

Hendrick and his three other members remained in the same craft. His eyes would often wander back through the holo-mirror, and caught sight of the elf engaged in a very deep conversation with the apostle, not hiding her tone of admiration in the slightest.

"So, do you have a story to tell? How about the Battle of Curose, it said that you fought off the Sovereign's Templar Legion on your own?" Aerulle's eyes sparkled.

"An exaggerated tale but yes, more or less. It's mostly with the help of the Terrestrial Division and Celestium Mobilis," Lucas recalled the story. It was an onerous task, a battle of attrition as they relentlessly fought against the endless, and powerful, tide of Sovereign's force.

He remembered how crude their plasma blasters were, the third generation of Piercers that hadn't been replaced for centuries, not before the war at least. Lucas remembered clearly as he saw a blue bolt of energy slammed against black, armoured carapace of their enemy as they responded with a spiralling energy bolt that once eluded the great minds of the past.

It was a strange sight, seeing the incessant torrent of blue plasma against the volley of helix-shaped phase blast that was common amongst the Sovereign. Whilst the superheated particles discharge into a small, concentrated supernova-like burst, the phase matter disrupts the very molecular structure of matter in seconds. Both equally deadly and destructive in their own unique way.

Lucas did not go into details, merely nodded and shook his head at every question given. The War of Woe was not one he wished to glorify, it was brutal and cruel, an era of unending suffering for five, continuous, decades.

Emily on the other hand, happily recalls the saga of their battles. The Siege of Ferrus, the Death of Morlin, the Battle in Veil, the Cronus Strife and countless others which conflicts were only a passing mention in the history scripts.

Aerulle listened with astonishment at every detail given, growing ever more excited. She had lived during the Death War, being an elf meant that Aerulle was technically of the same age with the two legends but her planet was fortunate enough to be mostly unaffected by the galactic war.

"We're almost there," the embedded radio voiced.

Hendrick stared at the distance, where the trees slightly parted, revealing a sign of civilisation far in the distance. The telepathic tendrils of his vehicle heed his mental command as it slowed down to a halt, veiled beneath the shades of the vegetations.

He turned, "you all good and prepared?"

Jordan nodded besides him, armed with nothing but a simple volt-pistol, custom-made to fit his claw-like appendage. Aerulle swivelled her head, gesturing at her squad captain of her wellbeing. Enigma merely nodded, the subtle dark veil stirred in her mind.

"This is Nocturne from the Spiral squad, we'll be waiting in the Ursa. Sensor isn't picking up any abnormalities, everything seems good."

Hendrick replied affirmatively. From what he knew, the Spiral Squad were supposedly of the same platoon as his team, but had interacted only once during the Academy years. Nocturne, if he remembered, was a member species of the western adze vampire from the planet of Crepuscule.

"Roger that, Nocturne. Moonhawk squad will be off shortly," Hendrick uttered.

"There're twelve eyes watching us right now," Emily noted, her eyes dimly lit as her extrasensory perception keeps track of her surroundings. "With about six neural activities, most of them are children - two prepubescent."

"Well, better not keep them waiting then," Jordan exclaimed as he opened the door.

Through the veiled shadows beyond their village, Raguel Messalla, a young lad still before his adolescent years, gathered with the other children of the village to observe the strange occurrence at the distance.

Phoenix Julus, the boy from the Nuliun Street had claimed to bore witness a large critter prowled within the foliage. Of course, Raguel doubted the authenticity of such a ridiculous tale, yet he was intrigued nonetheless.

There was a strange shuffling in the weeds, like a creature crawling amongst the trees. Raguel's eyes widened, he saw a glimpse of something hard-like from between the branches.

"You see that?" The little boy gasped between excited/nervous chuckles. "You all see that right?"

"What?" Another inquired, his eyes squinting. "I can't see anything."

Without warning, one of the silhouettes emerged. The children's eyes widened, some cowered and fled while few stayed to stare at the spectacle. The being was fully covered in armour, or is itself made of hard chitinous exterior, it was rather hard to tell. The creature was standing on two legs, with two arms and had a metallic tail extension sprouted from its back.

It had a single, large, black eye that encompassed most of its face with no other facial features visible. its body covered in solid carapace with a combination of greyish white and raven black. Its body was composed of intricately complex plates, a chitinous shell, and segmented pieces akin to the exoskeletal exterior of insects.

The children screamed in terror and in panic, as they carried themselves away. Some stumbled and fell, to be left behind by the others.

Hendrick watched as the event unfold, conflicted whether to be concerned or succumb to a fit of laughter. He knew that their situation wasn't an optimal outcome, but some part of him couldn't deny the hilarity of the incident.

"Captain?" Enigma deadpanned, her dark suit almost invisible under the shade. "Shouldn't we be concerned?"

Hendrick sighed, "yeah, we should. Probably a bad idea from the start to introduce ourselves in this armour."

"Look, the adults are approaching," Jordan whistled. The harpy rustled his wings, amongst the others, his species was the most obvious underneath the layer of armour.

"Captain, I will do the talking." Lucas intervened from behind, drawing a surprise gasp from the kitsune before he recollected himself.

"Are you sure, Lord - I mean, Guardian? I can do this you know," Hendrick stated.

Aerulle lifted a finger to her captain's face before anymore could be said. "Shush, let the Guardian of Light do this. I want to watch."

Lucas' eyes were drawn to the sign erected before them. It was adequately made for one crafted from hands. There were rows of wooden fence placed around the village, a rather pitiful attempt to keep wild animals at bay. He glazed over the sign, it was a welcome letter for all those who arrive and an introduction to its settlement.

"Coda," he read aloud, testing the name with his tongue. Their alphabetical characters were strange to him, the vowels and consonants were limited and rigid, with several conflicting phrases that sounded near similar. However, he couldn't deny that it was a unique and intriguing language, some sort of deviation from the dead archa-vox language.

"Who are you?" An old man declared, holding a pitchfork. Behind him were a group of several nervous men armed with nothing but farm tools, they eyed the armoured beings then to the pair of demi-humans.

Lucas studied the aged human, how his hair greyed and his skin wrinkled. It was no different than most fae in the galaxy. The apostle expressed a disarming smile and with a bow, he introduced himself. "Merely a traveler, we're here to seek knowledge around the land."

"You don't know the place?" The old man questioned, his eyes would occasionally glance at the ominous, armoured beings.

"I'm afraid not kind sir. You see, we are from a distant land," Lucas explained. He gestured his hand to the rest, "these are my companions, I'm sorry if they bother you sir, but I'm assure that we mean no harm."

Hendrick mentally unlatched his helm, the black glassinite slithered into obscurity as the rest of the covering unfold to reveal his soft face as his vulpine ears flopped up. That at least, put an ease to the villagers, although still did not quell their curiosity.

"Fascinating... where did you all come from?" The old man asked, his body posture relaxed. Clearly, unlike the rest of the soldiers they were forced to face, interspecies racism does not apply to their common folks - a huge relief for the Enforcers.

"The... North," Lucas answered in half-truths. From what he understood, most demi-humans originated from the north, a coincidental luck that their base was also from the north of the village.

"The north? Oh I see, must be a long trudge," Exclaimed the old man excitedly. "Come on then, come in."

The faes glanced at each other before they trailed the old man's footsteps.

The town was quaint and small, even to the standard of the natives. With only a hundred and fifty inhabitants, there weren't much mouths to feed and with the contribution of several abled bodies and nutrient rich soil, they were able to produce enough foodstuff to sustain themselves and provide monthly tithe simultaneously. For the most part, the town of Coda was rather peaceful.

The old man, the village's chief, was an incredible escort. Every question given was thoroughly answered, every curiosity was satiated. Lucas was pleasantly surprised by the man's affability, that was, according to Emily, to be genuine.

The citizens of Coda were a curious one, as they stared at the newcomers from a distant - but none of those were an unwelcoming glare. The children especially, once they realised none of them proved to be a threat, were most inquisitive as they studied them from the fur of their ears to the tip of their tail.

"Can I ask you a question, stranger?" The old man uttered as he stroked his aging beard. His eyes roamed the Aegis armour worn by the Terrestrial Troopers, a glimmer of intrigue present behind his wizened eyes.

Lucas tilted his head, his ears flicked forward. "Ask away."

"Those armours..." his hand gesturing at Hendrick, who merely stood awkwardly being the centre of attention from the rest. "I have never seen such fine craftsmanship and intricate mechanisms. How did you fold your helm? What is it made of? It doesn't seem to be made of iron as far as I can tell."

"A work of a skilled blacksmith," Emily intervened with a smile.

"Quite a blacksmith, may I inspect the work?" The old man leaned forward with a squint.

Lucas instinctively tensed, they weren't supposed to expose Alliance tech to the locals. Especially when they were technically at war. Thus, he politely held out his hand. "I'm afraid it is a... private work, Mister. A secret only for the armour's forger."

The old man raised a brow, his curiosity heightened but he ultimately relented. "Very well, I understand. No mere blacksmith would want anyone near their fine craft work. However, if you ask me, that person should present his talent to a noble merchant."

"I appreciate the advice, we will tell him just that," Lucas said.

It had been a few hours and their little visit was pleasantly uneventful. After a quick tour around the town, the group were relieved to find it rather peaceful. The locals were friendly, their people were rather nice and none had shown any visible or imperceptible hostility. Due to the location and the importance of Coda, not many bandits encroached nor any dissent nobles arrived.

Lucas found himself smiling as he stared the townsfolk go on about their daily lives. Though their abode was nothing more than fragile wood and brittle stone, at least in comparison to plasteel and mithril, they were rather happy and content. Something not many in the galaxy had the privilege of.

Several townsfolk they encountered greeted them with a smile and an offer, mistaking them for foreign merchants. Lucas couldn't really blame them, their strange attire and an escort of armoured people tend to cause a stir of misunderstanding.

The children especially, were most fond of the black haired harpy. Their childlike wonder and naive curiosity were drawn to the avian, some of the more inquisitive youngsters questioning every little detail from the harpy.

In the end, as the sun hung high above them, the group ended their tour. Lucas waved the old man goodbye, and even provided him with an ornament as a sign of gratitude.

"That was pleasant," Aerulle remarked, sighing in relief.

"Not so bad for our first reconnaissance," Hendrick commented with a chuckle. "Good job everyone. We didn't fuck it up."

"To be fair, we didn't really do much." Jordan muttered as he reshuffled his feather after so much of it had been plucked and pulled by the juveniles. "Definitely got to keep my wings away from the kids."

"Don't sell yourself short. You did fantastic," Emily chimed in.

Hendrick flipped his wrist, flat holo-screen materialised. The kitsune interacted with the tangible hologram before he averted his attention to the apostle. "So, where to next? The old man had given us a list of nearby settlements, the closest is about a few miles away - an elven community it seems like."

"Then we will go there next," Lucas exclaimed. "We've met enough of these sub-elves already, time to greet something more familiar."

Aerulle's ears twitched. Frankly she was curious to see the contrast between her own and this world's elven culture. Throughout history, it has been revealed that even a mono-species planet developed divergent communities across their globe.

"Spiral Squad? This is Jaeldabor from Moonhawk Squad. The local isn't hostile, mark it up in the datascape please," Hendrick spoke through the communicator.

"Affirm that, so where to next?"

Hendrick glanced at his holo-screen wrist. The intricate, ethereal manifestation wavered like calm tides. "West from here, an estimate of four miles. It's an elven settlement."

"Roger that, I'll keep everyone updated," replied the other person whose name was lost to Hendrick.

Gate, Alnus Hill, Falmart

The once white, archaic, marble structure of the Gate was remodelled into a sleeker, wider metallic entrance befitted for the more modern aesthetic. Rings of plasteel and all of its sub-variants engraved in Deep Runes kept the stability of the portal. The internal astral system maintaining a constant, steady wave between the two realities, avoiding potential space-time collapse in the near future.

Enclosed in a large plasteel-polymedium pyramidal construct, most of the Gate was kept hidden from public view. Various arcane defences were emplaced outside and within the pyramid structure; auto-turrets, anti-air batteries, drone duplicators and positron lancers.

Within the tunnel of dimensions, a lone vehicle rolled past the limbo of reality. A moment flickered as it departed from the Gate, into the other side, where the AI system immediately took note of the deviating ambient structure of said reality.

Within said vessel - a small, metallic grav-craft of Terran origin - there lies a particular dryad who had reluctantly agreed to help. His gaze fleeted the outside world, half in fascination and dread. Despite his anxiety, the professor of Hamazlaian Theurgic Institute also known as the former agent of Scrutor Agency, found himself strangely at home amongst the lush greenery that pervaded the world.

The soft purr of the vehicle's semi-silent engine finally abated, the autopilot chose to park near a large fortress-like structure made of polymedium and halcrete. Professor Thistle Oakwood sighed, his eyes drawn towards the medium sized building.

Compared to the titans skyscrapers of Terra, the structure was rather dwarfish in nature. Thistle took note of the pair of Husk droids approaching him, their exoskeletal body motioned stoically.

The dryad was visibly annoyed, "seriously, can't even send me a real person to escort?"

"Sorry Theurgist, we're a bit short-staffed here," a dwarf greeted him. Thistle studied the man, he was unfamiliar with him - however he did acknowledge the Orb Tertiary General rank proudly displayed upon his shoulders and chest emblem. "Care to take a walk?"

Thistle glanced around, seeing various fabrimacon droids performing their tasks. Their obnoxious orange hue were much more eye-catching especially in such an environment.

"Quite a slow progress you've made."

The dwarf frowned but shrugged off the comment as he led the professor along the base. "We only have so many fabrimacons, however that problem will be solved soon enough. The Yhergman have a large supply, it probably take a few more weeks till we can get out hand on one."

The dryad averted his gaze, inspecting the status of the base. Several halcrete structures were already constructed, along with various defense turrets at the outskirts of the meta-mithril wall. Rows of cubical buildings formed hexagonal layers around the central base, with the majority of which yet to be completed. What was once a calm, green meadow now shifts to edifices of arcane metals and polymeric crystals.

Small, single-pilot, military grav-craft, Anguis roamed the pseudo-town, moving small cargoes and supplies.

"The air feels... fresh," Thistle murmured, feeling the soft breeze unto his skin.

"It's not just the atmosphere - it's the index concentration in the air alone, it's much higher than any planet we've seen," the dwarf commented. "I suppose vitas-sensitive species like you would feel the effects."

"This is way beyond the level in Gothia, I suspect it's only second to the Overscape itself," Thistle added.

"Our metaphysicists suspect that it has something to do with the manifestation of arcanite in this world."

The dryad perked at that as he glanced at the dwarf. "What do you mean?"

Thistle shivered slightly when they entered one of the many buildings on the hill, it was fairly small yet still imposing all the same. A smooth, white surface along with the glistening translucent blue of glassinite tinted windows. The dryad took note of his surroundings, the interior kept at a low temperature with the ever-present runes embedded in the walls, manipulating the thermal circulation of the building.

"Cryomancy?" Thistle frowned.

"Sorry, Theurgist. You want me to adjust the temperature?" The dwarf darts his gaze to the shivering dryad.

"No, I'm fine," the astra-scholar murmured with a frown. "You still haven't answered my question."

The dwarf gestured at a holo-projector affixed at the center of the room. A large, incorporeal manifestation made of photonic particles and a trace of illusion magic. It displayed a physical description of the arcanite, revealing its illuminated nature.

"Like you know, arcanite manifestation in realspace is incredibly difficult. Due to some kind of reality tampering in the past, about half the planets, stars and all those with a gravity well have a very thin dimensional barrier between realspace and riftspace - we only have the Predecessor to thank for that."

Thistle raised a brow, he did not dare to interrupt and only listened.

"Sorcerers and alchemists in ancient times would often find these dimensional anomalies by accident, usually near the Black Monoliths - and that's how they discover that with a bit of tweaking, one can punch holes in reality, dragging raw vitas from the other side."

The dryad crossed his arm, "I am familiar with the discovery of proto-arcanite, General. I've studied it for a decade."

"Then you must know that arcanite couldn't possibly materialise in realspace naturally. Even with modern equipment, it's very hard to grab unfiltered arcane energy and contain them in a physical structure. We've advanced so much, yet every solar year we've heard stories of drill site accidents, stories about casualties and property damage to paint a picture of the danger of arcanite industry," the dwarf stated.

"Your point?"

The dwarf turned, revealing a subtle smirk on his lips. "These arcanite manifests in realspace."

Thistle paused, his eyes widened. The dryad snapped his eyes to the holo-screen, a sudden sense of bafflement overwhelmed his thoughts. For a moment, he was speechless, his mind racing for an answer. "How...?"

The dwarf merely shrugged, "no fucking clue. There's a few theories but none of which are viable. We need an expert, someone like you."

Unknown, Falmart

The Ursas traverse across the thick foliage, ramming through weeds and roots too stubborn to be moved. Their vehicles, despite its imposing size and power, were mostly silent. Like the soft whispers of the wind, the grav-crafts were nearly inaudible amongst the ceaseless cacophony of forest dwellers.

Hendrick let his mind wander as the vessel took control of intricate operations and systems where his brain couldn't. If this were anywhere else, he would already drown his ears in a litany of songs to occupy his thoughts but alas, given the circumstances, he didn't have the privilege for such.

The kitsune briefly recalled the first time he ever joined the Enforcer, he had skipped school for such a momentous decision. He regretted it at first, it was only a means to support his decrepit family but as the sand of time slowly unravelled, he was less unhappy with his situation.

Amidst the chaos of battle, the stress of conflicts, the danger of his life - there were times of victory in which he celebrated, there were times of bittersweet joy with his allies and the touching moments with those he protected.

"Y'know, I never got to know your name," the radio suddenly cackled, much to Hendrick's surprise. The kitsune shifted himself, realising that it was that 'Nocturne' guy.

"Oh, shit sorry. The name's Hendrick Jaeldabor," he exclaimed.

"Hendrick? Sounds Martian," added the man.

"It's Betelgeusean actually. An exoplanet, if you're wondering," the kitsune was caught slightly off guard by the sudden conversation but quickly recollected himself.

Jordan perked, his gaze landed on the dashboard where the communicator was.

"You're part of the White Night platoon yeah? How come we never saw you all before?" Continued the vampire.

"Private missions," Hendrick briefly explained.

"Ahh..." It was another voice, one that Hendrick does not recognise. "I assume it's classified?"

"Not really, it's not," the kitsune muttered as he glanced at the communicator, trying his best to recall the voice. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I get your name...?"

"Helice Sagirus-16, part of the Kepler Vat-Womb program," came the reply.

"You're a clone?" Jordan, who sat beside Hendrick, voiced his surprise.

"A synth to be exact," the person replied with a hint of cheeky grin. "Straight out of the vats-incubator."

"The Kepler program?" Hendrick glanced at Jordan.

The harpy in question nodded. The lean avian-fae shifted, half flapped his dark wings. With an animated gesture, the aerial specialist explained in great details of the aforementioned program. "It's part of the repopulation program done by the government in Kepleria, a full industry worth of vat-grown infants that lasted for about five years and still continue to this day, albeit less intensely as it did back then."

"The hell happened?" Aerulle suddenly chimed in from the back.

"Death War," both Jordan and Helice answered simultaneously.

The latter paused, an audible murmurs of amusement could be heard through the vox-carrier. With a moment passed, Helice continued, "say, you seem like you knew much about Kepleria. Where you from?"

"Hold that thought for a moment," Hendrick interrupted. Their vehicle halted, an action imitated by the other Ursa. Between the silent humming of their grav-craft and the soft rustling of shrubbery, there was a distant howl of a creature.

The kitsune's alert state immediately shifted the atmosphere. Jordan squinted his eyes only to see the sight of something gigantic in the distance along with the flickering hue of bright orange.

"You all are seeing this, right?" Hendrick muttered nervously.

Lucas, who had remained silent throughout the journey perked, his gaze wandered beyond the windshield and frowned at the ominous scene. For a moment, he was puzzled before the neko ultimately leaned forward between Jordan and Hendrick. "That's fire."

"Is this like a forest fire or something?" Aerulle questioned. "Should we do something?"

"Stop the Ursa," Lucas proclaimed.

"Already did," came the reply from Hendrick. He watched in confusion as the apostle alighted the vessel, the neko's eyes remained glued on the distant, raging inferno.

Lucas could feel the flickering arcane presence amidst the howls of the wind, along with the thick scent of burnt wood. Like a raging beacon, the inferno illuminated the forest, a great swathe of flames licked and consumed all in its path. However, the most strangest of it all was that Lucas could feel the etheric essence of the flames, they were fires made from the byproduct of the Incorporeum. A manifestation of fiery gas materialised through magic.

It was not a natural occurrence, Lucas realised, but instead an immaterial manifestation - one to imitate the consistency and chemical properties of flames. It was fire born from the non-corporeal; therefore, it was made from magic. The apostle felt the uncertainty of his heart begin to creep into his mind. If his hypothesis were true then that would imply that there was a sentient force that were behind the inferno.

However, whatever purpose for a being would do such a thing was beyond his understanding. His inquiry halted when he saw a glimpse of a large, imposing entity that loomed amongst the trees. Lucas felt his body tensed as his instincts screamed to him.

The creature was stark crimson with a soft olive underside. It had wingspan that dwarfed the trees around it, terminated with sharp claws. Both eyes were shining golden, reflecting the infernal torrent that surrounds it. It was a sight to behold, a monstrous beast that stood above the fiery chaos of its own doing.

Lucas barely flickered his ears when he heard the door behind him unclasped and the soft thuds of footfalls echoed its way to his direction.

"Holy shit," Hendrick, one of the first Enforcers to dismount, murmured. There was a hint of awe in his voice, one born out of astonishment and slight fear. "It's the Infernus Draconis."

"That's a kaiju-class, pyromancer entity right?" Jordan added as he too joined to enjoy the sight. The avian was about to comment more before he noticed the apostle, and the esper for that matter, weren't as astonished as them but rather concerned. Jordan blinked, slowly studying both of their expressions, "is... everything alright?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I recall that the village chief informed us that the settlement is in that direction," Enigma suddenly chimed in, beneath her stoic tone lies a hint of concern.

"Get to the Ursas, we will handle this!" The nekomata suddenly proclaimed. Before any of them could respond, the two champions rushed forward, into the thick foliage.

Hendrick called out, half shouted, as their silhouettes were obscured behind the trees. The kitsune stood, momentarily dazed and baffled, still trying to process it all.

"Hey, everything good there?" Came the voice from his communicator, Hendrick briefly gasped as he quickly responded to Nocturne.

"No it's not, tell your squad to get their ass ready. Things are not looking pretty, it seems like."

Vacuum of Space, Milky Way

The void of space, littered with clusters of twilight stars. Amidst the eternal, silent darkness, a soundless crack boomed the empty vacuum. Slithering tendrils of wraith energy writhed as the very light around the empty space wavered, distorted before an object materialised from thin vacuum.

The distortion field grew larger, the wraith-lightning grew animated, with each etheric whip of astral energy coiled like the tendrils of maddened beast. It was not long before the Pride of Ingenuity emerged from the empty space, amongst the eternal blackness. The spatial fold around it crystallised, bending and fractured like the cracked surface of glass in a three dimensional plane before they eventually dissipated.

A ship forged from rift fire and spectral anvil of wright stations. The orichalcum hull of its exterior coated in a layer of thin diamantine material. The vessel was angular in shape, with most of its architectural design based upon geometric pattern, a long main body, with a triangular nose and a wide back.

Despite it being the size half of a skyscraper, there were only a few dozen who occupied the interior, with most of its operations mechanically managed. The very centre of the ship was where the command bridge was located, right at the heart of its system, just at the front of its warped rift engine that powers the vessel.

The enigmatic power of the Rift drummed against the fold between space, the coiling, writhing energy of incorporeality constantly slammed against the background of the universe. The rift engine, a technological marvel so complex in its rune-code that half of it was barely even understood by modern fae - a magitech taken from ancient unearthed machines.

Whilst the Harmonic Alliance found their first discovery of rift engine from the buried remains of paleotech in Terra, many other species were forced to either built it from scratch or gather multitudes of ancient relics and reverse engineer haphazard amalgamation of ancient techno-sorcerical relics.

One such faction, the Prosperitas, were amongst the privileged to find access of intact paleotech that revolutionised their warp travel.

As the vessel drifted the dark void, it approached upon a massive gas giant with an impressive gigastructure of mithril ring around it, along with several metallic pillars that pierced beyond the cloudy veil of the planet's atmosphere. Large radioactive waves burst from within the gassy world, a result of millions of years of chemical processes. There was a large circular structure intersected the celestial ring, a spaceport where countless ships docked for various purposes.

The Pride of Ingenuity glided the space-time fabric as its gravitic thruster pushed it forward into the docking bay. Large, metallic clamps grappled upon the vessel, astra-magnetism kept it affixed.

The ship shuddered, though the inertia of its interior remained unchanged. The metal clamps slid the vessel deeper into the station, various mechanical limbs sprouted from the wall as it scanned the surface of the craft.

The subtle ionic scent of the air left an unpleasant feeling into his senses. Markh crinkled his nose, a frown etched upon his pale face. The shadefur kobold straightened his black suit, the holographic emblem weave in the nano-weaved textile.

The silvery streak of plasteel wall marked with dozen stripes of holographic commercials. Endless spam of clustered advertisement, mostly ignored by passing crowds of diverse fae, their wildly deviating attires were a sore sight for the eyes.

Markh Zenorith was birthed from the cold vats of artificial womb, a faceless clone amongst the thousands. His dark grey hair ruffled under the aeromance swirls of the wind, his lupine ears fluttered along with it. The man studied his surroundings, his austere brown eyes glazed the station's interior.

Travellers, explorers, voyagers and workers. A variety of faces with multitudes of missions. This part of the system was beyond any of the major faction's control. Though the Alliance and the Sovereign, along with few unmentionables held dominions upon millions of worlds - the galaxy had another hundred billions more to spare.

Currently, being flanked by dozens of androids wasn't the most discreet thing to do, but it was something Markh had to unfortunately get used to. They traversed through the island sized station, large enough that it had its own segregated cities formed within, all controlled by the central governance at the heart.

It was a long trek, but nothing arduous. The transport systems, whilst unsatisfactory, still performed adequately.

Markh and his robot stewards finally found themselves near the central palace of the station, a large cylindrical construct connected to overarching structures with pillars each the size of small buildings. Dozens of small grav-crafts floated about, delivering their cargo at subsonic speed.

The kobold felt the cold presence in his mind when he entered the main fortress, he frowned at the prodding telepathic intrusion around him, barely able to wriggle their psychic tendrils deep into his cloaked conscience.

The interior design was lavish and minimalist, the wall was bland grey with large nano-carved paintings not made of holographic projection but instead physical, diamantine materials crafted from the delicate work of machines and terramancers. The floor decorated with deep scarlet carpet and an animated vector image of dragons slithered the furry surface.

Markh glanced at the painting, a collection of faces that marked the significance of this orbital station. If he recalled, the Serebrus Station and its Mythric Ring was built about a thousand years ago, many generations of interstellar colonisers who slowly built up from the remains of ancient structure, eventually reached to its current scale. The gas giant's esoteric radiation was pooled into the multitudes of pillars from the Ring, massive rods that pierced the thick hydrogen cloud to absorb all that energy into the station.

The massive door, that seems like large slabs to him, rolled to the side. The kobold took notice how they were forged from reinforced plasteel and traces of adamantine skeleton. The inside of the hall was massive, a great crystalline chandelier kept afloat with assortments of gravitic spells and frequency based rune-code, keeping the luminate stone illuminated.

There was a large, arched table, with a levi-chair behind. A reptilus sat calmly, a subspecies of the draconic race, almost similar in appearance to the dragonewt save for their lack of wings or horns.

"Ahh, Mister Zenorith, I have heard lots about you," spoke the reptile, he spoke with a slight accent of his ancient dialect.

"You studied about me?" The kobold said, unimpressed.

The reptilus smirked, a small serfdrone hovered near and poured him a drink. The man grabbed the wine glass, taking a short whiff before he slowly took a sip. "Morozi liquor, Durr Zenorith. Taken from the finest Ambelei sap."

The golden tinge of the liquor danced at the rim of the glass, a slight colourless bubble sizzled under the gentle movement. The reptilus kept his ruby red eyes on the item.

"It comes from a parasitic fauna that the alraune hates so much, but for my kind... it is a luxury wine. One man's poison is another's ambrosia," uttered the lizard fae. Gently, he placed down the glass, staring back at the kobold. "Your superior requested - or rather, demanded my supply of magitech. Very expensive ones too."

Markh remained silent as he observed the man slowly lifted himself up, his tail flexed at his movements. The reptilus avert his gaze to the window outside, before it shifted to a holo-screen, displaying various assortment of weapons and gadgets.

"This is all instruments of war, Mr Zenorith. Forged from ether-metal and carved from arcane sigils, perfectly crafted rune-code that embedded deep in their material. Do you know what they all had in common?"

"Arcanite?" Markh replied flatly, annoyed at the slow procedure.

"Each micrometer in these metals were engraved with complex runes, like digital codes they carved through in straight, geometric lines, leaving traces of arcanite to be embedded, fused with the minerals. Do you know how hard this process is?"

"It takes machines less than thirty minutes, stop being dramatic." Breathed out the kobold.

The reptilus turned, "yes, and it takes a group of fae a month. Take that into perspective, Mr Zenorith. Our technology, our sorcery - they advanced, but not our body, not our mind."

"Is there a point in this riddle? You know why I'm here cut this crap," muttered Markh.

"Your superior wanted one of my most expensive tools in exchange for plats, but I want something more in return," commented the reptilus.

"As far as I know your toys aren't anymore than five billion plats, Mr Nurwon. Please tread this carefully, you don't want to be greedy now do you?" The kobold half growled, the android around him responded to his emotional status with alertness.

The reptilus coy smirk faltered for a moment before he quickly hid it behind a confident smile. The man lifted his glass, "I want those sweet, sweet arcanites. The one I've heard a lot of rumours about."

The kobold furrowed, "we don't have that."

"Not yet," the reptilus waved his arm. "Look, I know what Prosperitas want to do with my assets. The timing isn't really a coincidence, I'm just offering you a new offer here."

"This isn't part of the negotiation," Markh crossed his arms.

"No, it isn't. It's called improvisation."

The kobold visibly flinched, his tail swayed dangerously. The man's eyes glaring at the other, a flurry of thoughts fleeted in his mind. For a moment, he considered murder, but his higher brain function prevent him from such impulse. Thus, the shadefur kobold only furrowed as his lips pursed, "okay then. What do you want?"

"Fifty kilograms of purified arcanite, no astral damage, no runic tamper. I will give you everything you need," the reptilus declared. "Everything."

"Fifty kilogramme?" Markh arched his brow, briefly baffled. "Just that?"

"I don't think you understand here, Durr Zenorith. That's fifty kilograms of purified arcanite, billions of vitas worth of rune-code. Of course, that is if the rumours are true," the reptilus tilted his head and lifted his drink just as a serfdrone arrived and grabbed it from his grasp.

"I have to discuss this with my-" before Markh had the chance to complete his sentence, one of the droids flickered and clicked. Its unblinking eye directly stared at the reptilus, its flat stare unnervingly glaring.

"That is quite the offer there, Mr Nurwon."

The machine spoke, its vox-carrier slightly deeper than the original voice. The reptilus' eyes widened, he gasped for a moment as his tail twitched nervously.

"Eren Winter," the man gritted his teeth, carefully choosing his words. "I did not expect your presence."

The automata's soulless optic bore deep into the person, every microscopic string of servo-tendrils silently whirred in its metal body. Nurwon watched with anticipation as he waited for the robot to relay the Founder's words.

"I know that." The robot took a step forward, its soft dark carapace gleamed under the stark coruscate of luminate crystals. "Now, about your new trade... it can be discussed."

The reptilus perked up.

"However, you should be aware of the risk. We promise no guarantees," uttered the cold, soulless voice of the machine, doing its best to replicate the tone of its owner.

Nurwon furrowed, "then we shall have no trade."

"That is correct," the robot tilted its head and placed both hands behind itself. "I can find many willing merchants in this sector, Mr Nurwon."

"W- wait, let's discuss this first," uttered the reptilus, his prior confidence waned.

Despite the lack of facial features, they both could feel the radiating smirk exuded from the machine. "Good, let's talk."

[End of Chapter Seven]

Scentipedia, Free Galactic Encyclopedia

[Plasma Weaponry]

Plasma is generated through the overexcitement of particles, sometimes causing nuclear fusion. The superheated matter then will be coated in a thin layer of etheric shell responsible for preserving its energetic status as well as maintaining a high kinetic impact once propelled at sub-light speed via the utilisation of astra-magnetism. The highly energetic projectile, plasma bolt, usually loses its heat energy once it reaches a certain distance as its etheric shell slowly dissipates back into the astral plane. Its effect range of fire is only slightly inferior to laser weapons.

Firearms

Piercer: The Piercer is a standard anti-personnel plasma firearm. It is a rapid fire, mid-range and mid-power blaster. It is also sometimes inaccurately referred to as a plasma rifle or a plasma carbine due to the similarity of its basic principles. There are over several hundred millions of diverse Piercer models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs. The most iconic of them are the ARC-7 models, often employed by the Nova Segmentia of the Terrestrial Division.

Lancer: The Lancer is a type of ranged plasma weapon with incredibly potent damage capacity however at the cost of lower rate of fire. The Lancer possesses a superior range than that of the standard Piercer blaster. Due to the requirements needed to reach such a distance, the Lancer generates greater density of etheric shells whilst sacrificing the length of intervals between shots. There are several hundred millions of diverse Lancer models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Impaler: The Impaler is a short ranged, however extremely devastating plasma firearm. By concentrating all of its plasmatic energy in a large, but contained burst, the Impaler is able to melt through layers of reinforced plasteel with ease. It is rarely, if ever, used in proper combat, only utilised in specific circumstances, usually in close combat scenario. There are several hundred millions of diverse Impaler models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Prickler: Sometimes referred to as the jab-blaster is a small, handheld, plasma pistol. It is fairly weak compared to the Piercer, with a lower rate of fire and a terrible effective range in comparison to most, save for the Impaler. However, a few rare variants of Prickler are able to generate extremely potent output similar to that of an Impaler. There are several hundred millions of diverse Prickler models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Heavy Piercer: The Heavy Piercer is a larger, heavier variation of the Piercer that are generally used by heavyweight class species. The Heavy Piercer produces greater damage capacity, higher firing rate with a similar range of fire. Depending on the quality of the coolant systems, Heavy Piercer generally overheats longer or faster than the standard combat Piercer. There are several tens of millions of diverse Heavy Piercer models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Farlancer: The Farlancer is a longer and greater variant of the Lancer with the only difference, other than its extreme range, being its ability to curve projectiles. This is mainly used due to the weapon's requirement to shoot something beyond the curvature of the planet. There are several tens of millions of diverse Farlancer models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs. Due to the advance techno-sorcery required to be engraved into its rune structure, Farlancer are incredibly rare and very expensive.

Vehicles

Fusion Destructor: The Destructor is a standard model design for armoured vehicles and aerial fighter craft. It is a long, mostly cuboid-shaped barrel that is augmented with rune magic to generate higher stopping power. There are several tens of millions of diverse Destructor models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Fusion Annihilator: The Annihilator are much rarer. It is larger and bulkier than the Destructor, instead of firing a single plasma shell similarly to the Destructor, it propels a continuous plasmatic energy beam. There are several tens of millions of diverse Annihilator models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Plasma Mortar: The plasma mortar produces the same energy shell as the Destructor, however assisted with spatiomancy magic to generate artificial mass and weight, thus affected by gravity. There are several tens of millions of diverse mortar models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Fusion Spear: A variant of the Destructor model that allows for the plasma projectile to hone upon a target, capable of diverting its trajectory mid-flight similarly to a missile. The enchantment required to produce such a magitech however is very expensive and therefore rarely present in the military. There are several tens of millions of diverse Spear models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Nucleic Gattler: Although not necessarily a vehicle-exclusive weapon, the gattlers are often mainly used by a military craft. It is a rotary, high power, rapid fire plasma weapon with each bolt several times denser than the standard Piercer. There are several hundreds millions of diverse Nucleic Gattler models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Explosives

Plasnade (plasma grenade): Plasnade contains within it, a dormant but concentrated fusion energy kept in a chronostasis. Once it is activated, the stasis field eventually 'thaws out' and unleashes the volatile, plasmatic energy within, producing an almost sun-like explosion in a limited radius. There are several millions of diverse plasnade models each with a few hundred sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

[Voltar Weaponry]

Voltar or voltric weapons are a type of armaments that harness the raw power of riftspace, channelling it through realspace via the manifestation of the wraith-lightning. Voltars are usually short range, at least in comparison to laser and plasma weapons. Furthermore, voltar weapons are generally very effective against ethereal constructs, able to tear through their essence with little difficulty.

Firearms

Voltcaster: Voltcaster is the main standard firearm of the voltar variants. It generates a wraith-lightning projectile in an arching beam of energy at great distance, able to continuously produce the beam for several minutes before eventually cooling down for a few seconds. The Voltcaster is considered a decently long range firearm in comparison to most other volt types. There are several hundreds millions of diverse Voltcaster models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Volt-pistol: A volt-pistol is a small handgun version of the voltar weaponry, it is much weaker than the Voltcaster and has less range than the main voltar weapon. However, volt-pistol recovers much quicker. There are several hundreds millions of diverse volt-pistol models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Voltcoil: The Voltcoil has a larger, almost spiralled shape tripod protrusion at the front that helps it generate greater power capacity. The Voltcoil materialises a higher density of wraith-lightning that manifests something called the ether-storm, causing a wide devastating effect in its wake. Voltcoil in general are a very slow and quite heavy weapon, mostly employed by heavyweight class species. There are only several thousands of diverse models with very limited sub-variants each of its own quality and designs.

Vehicles

Volteria: The Volteria is a long helix-shaped coil turret that generates colossal wraith manifestation in realspace, producing a lightning-like energy bolt to struck down enemy forces. It is often affixed to mech walkers or light armoured vehicles. There are several hundreds millions of diverse Volteria models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Etherix Volt: The Etherix Volt generates a beam of wraith-lightning tendrils at a range farther than any other voltar weapons. It is often affixed upon heavy armoured vehicles. There are several hundreds millions of diverse Etherix Volt models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Voltric Striker: The Voltric Striker materialise spell rune in the sky and summon an aerial wraith-lightning strike from above at a medium range. There are several hundreds millions of diverse Voltric Striker models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Explosives

Volt-bomb: Volt-bomb creates a spherical fulmination of wraith energy in a limited radius. There are only several thousands of diverse models with very limited sub-variants each of its own quality and designs.

Voltscythe: Voltscythe spawns swarms of wraith-lightning tendrils, lashing out like swirling, incorporeal yarn. There are only several thousands of diverse models with very limited sub-variants each of its own quality and designs.

[Laser Weaponry]

Laser weapons are produced via the extreme concentration of photons or through the manipulation of the electromagnetic spectrum enough to produce scorching heat or kinetic impact. Usually such effects are achieved via the usage of heliomancy magic. Laser weapons are amongst the cheapest and easiest weapons to manufacture, only requiring glassinite lense and heliomance arcanite for it to properly function. Laser blasters also possess near infinite range, although its lethality mostly terminates within a few dozen kilometres. Furthermore, the laser projectiles themselves are generally weak, able to be disrupted in different atmospheric mediums or via a reflective material.

Firearms

Lux-rifles: The lux-rifle or the stria-gun is a long range, rapid fire, laser firearm with very little recharge time required. Due to the simplicity of its techno-sorcery, some lux-rifles are made of basic wood, stone and polymeric material. There are several hundreds millions of diverse lux-rifle models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs. The most iconic of them are the Herion Oracon models commonly used in underdeveloped planets.

Luxscoper: Whilst lux-rifle dissipates in lethality after a certain distance, the luxscoper maintains the destructive heat in a longer period, thus inadvertently providing it a far greater effective range than that of the standard lux-rifle, albeit with the cost of its rate of fire. There are several hundreds millions of diverse luxscoper models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Heliogun: The heliogun is a very destructive yet short ranged laser weapon, concentrating most of its firepower in a limited space. Many helioguns are no larger than a standard handgun however it is several times much more potent. There are several millions of diverse heliogun models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Lumenator: While other laser based small arms produce streaks of round, the Lumenator generates extremely high concentration of light energy into a continuous focal beam. There are several hundreds of thousands of diverse Lumenator models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Lux-cannon: Lux-cannon is a long range, anti-tank, laser weapon. It fires a concentrated beam of photon energy equivalent to the surface of Sol. There are several hundreds of thousands of diverse lux-cannon models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Vehicles

Multifold Lux-cannon: The Multifold Lux-cannon is a rapid fire variant of the lux-cannon, producing greater power capacity and destructive capability. There are several hundreds of thousands of diverse Multifold Lux-cannon models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Lux Strafer: It is a lighter variant of the Multifold Lux-cannon that shares the consistency of the plasma gattler but with a laser variant. There are several millions of diverse Lux Strafer models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Explosive

Flashbang: The flashbang is a technology that had existed since the dawn of industrial firearm however its modern variant mainly uses both aeromancy and heliomancy to produce bright blinding light. There are several millions of diverse flashbang models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Lux-detonator: The lux-detonator produces a radius effect of intense laser beam fulmination in its vicinity. There are several millions of diverse flashbang models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

[Pulse Weaponry]

Pulse weapons are a unique type of armament that uses the esoteric nature of pulsion particles as its main projectile. Pulse weapons are a paleotech, meaning that it is a reverse-engineered techno-sorcery from ancient Predecessor albeit far inferior than its original prehistoric design. With the infectious quality of the crystalline pulsion, able to transmorph other elements into a quasi version of itself, pulse weapons' only limitation is its inability to affect incorporeal manifestation or etherically solid substance, like adamantite.

Firearms

Pulser: The Pulser, also interchangeably referred to as a Pulsegun is a standard anti-personnel pulse-type munition. It fires at a rapid rate, albeit inferior to plasma and laser barrage. It has decent range and high damage capacity. Most Pulser shoots a barrage of diamond-shaped pulsion trajectile, however there are some that use disc or coned shape darts as well. There are over several hundred millions of diverse Pulser models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Pulse-ranger: the pulse-ranger is able to perform long range accurate fire several times than the standard pulser, it usually concentrates vast amount of pulsion particle and manifest a superdense isotope of said element - which is very unstable and are only preserved via chronostasis chamber. It is so devastatingly powerful, some models of the pulse-ranger are used as an anti-armour weapon. There are over several hundred millions of diverse pulse-ranger models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Gemblaster: The gemblaster is a heavy variant of the Pulser and often used by the heavyweight class species. It discharges a greater amount of missiles in a fraction of a second, with increased damage output and slightly improved range. Instead of tiny pulsion matter, the gemblaster projects a salvo of fist-sized trajectiles at a rapid rate. There are over several hundred millions of diverse gemblaster models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Pulsite: Pulstie is a small handgun with generally of lesser quality than that of the standard pulser. There are over several hundred millions of diverse pulsite models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

Explosive

Pulse-bomb: Pulse-bomb generates a radius of ether bending to materialise unstable pulsion matter, resulting in area of its vicinity to be chemically altered into pseudo-pulsion. There are over several hundred millions of diverse pulse-bomb models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

[Netik Weaponry]

Netik weapons also referred to as pellet-slinger, sluggers or slag-shooters are a designation given to all types of ballistic-type weapons that propels solid projectiles either via chemical propellent or magnetic propulsion. It is considered one of the most primitive forms of weaponry, only commonly used by pre-interstellar civilisation. Most netik weapons are considered a relic of the past or mere aesthetic decoration. Its ineffectiveness in proper galactic-stage combat and inability to puncture through even the thinnest of plasteel had left sluggers barely, if ever, to be used in the greater space.

Firearms

Repeater: The repeater, or referred to as an auto-slugger is a rapid fire, lower-range, low power long-barreled firearm commonly in use during the late Iron Age and early Expansion Age. There are over several hundred millions of diverse repeater models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design. The most iconic of them are the Ark-47 models, a gas repeated, automatic-repeater known for its reliability in harsh conditions.

Snipe-slugger: The snipe-slugger is designed to be a longer range weapon, at least in comparison to other slag-shooters. It is provided with a longer barrel and an additional extension at the front to slightly suppress the deafening sounds of chemical propellent. There are over several hundred millions of diverse snipe-slugger models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

Shellgun: The shellgun is an extremely low-range yet high power slug weapon that fires a scattered pellet in a wide conical shape. There are over several hundred millions of diverse shellgun models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

Gauss-slinger: The gauss-slinger, archaically referred to as a coilgun or a railgun is similar in nature to the repeater save for its usage of electromagnetic propellant instead of chemical gas propellant. There are over several hundred millions of diverse gauss-slinger models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

Explosive

Frag-grenade: Frag-grenade operates by mostly dispersing shrapnels and shockwaves at sonic or supersonic speed, tearing through nearby objects in a limited radius. There are over several hundred millions of diverse frag-grenade models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

[Sonic Weaponry]

Sonic or sound weapons, as the name implies, mainly employ a sonic shockwave as an offensive weapon. Enhanced with rune magic, the effects are often amplified. Sonic weapons generate a high frequency shockwave energy that propagates through a medium to incapacitate living creatures. It is mostly non-lethal, albeit not entirely harmless.

Firearm

Sonic Blaster: The sonic blaster is a standard, crowd control firearm with a range even inferior to a netik weaponry. Although the settings can be altered to produce a smaller, concentrated sonic blast powerful enough to rupture organs. There are over several hundred millions of diverse sonic blaster models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

Transonic Projector: A superior variant of the sonic blaster, capable of generating extremely high power supersonic assault potent enough to disrupt solid stone walls. There are over several hundred millions of diverse transonic projector models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and design.

[Mortem Weaponry]

A type of extremely devastating weapons that harness the deceased souls of the damned and manifest those into solid, ghoulish projectiles in the form of a black, shimmering mortis-bolts. Such trajectile are potent enough to penetrate layers of enchanted orichalcum, erode localised matter and distort the very fabric of realspace. Once impacted against a durable, solid bulwark, the mortis-bolt would rupture and tear the barrier of space-time, ripping open and exposing the raw essence of the Ether for a split second before dissolving into a cacophony of chaos. Most mortem weaponry are classified, only given to the Vastators and privileged few.

Firearms

Orcus: A high calibre firearm mainly associated by the Vastator Legions. Orcus is a mid-range, high power, rapid fire Mortem-type small arm capable of generating unstoppable impact force. There are over several thousands of diverse Orcus models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Heavy Mortem: A larger, heavier variant of the Orcus, fitted with an extended body and an affixed multi-barrel. Naturally, the Heavy Mortem is superior in every way to the Orcus save for its weight and costs. There are over several thousands of diverse Heavy Mortem models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Sub-Mors: A lighter variant of the Orcus, small enough to be used for the average Troopsmen. Although, it has inferior range and potency to that of the base weapon. There are over several thousands of diverse Sub-Mors models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Mortus Lancer: With a much slower firing rate yet a far greater range and accuracy than the Orcus, it is often described as being a sniper rifle variant of the Mortem weaponry. There are over several thousands of diverse Mortus Lancer models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Vehicles

Exercitus Cannon: The Exercitus is mostly affixed on a heavy armoured vehicle and much like the standard mortem weaponry, it propels a large mortis-bolt in hypervelocity that implodes in contact of its target. There are over several thousands of diverse Exercitus Cannon models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Thanator Cannon: The Thanator is a rapid fire variant of the Exercitus Cannon. There are over several thousands of diverse Thanator Cannon models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Explosive

Mortis Bomb: The Mortis Bomb explodes into a raging ghoulish inferno of tormented souls that drains the life force of all near as well as erode nearby matters in its vicinity. There are over several thousands of diverse Mortis Bomb models, each with their own hundreds of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

[Gravitic Weaponry]

Gravity weapons or grav-weapons utilise spatiomancy and/or psionic techno-sorcery to produce and manipulate localised gravitic force. Grav-weapons are the most versatile type of armaments due to the diverse nature of its technology, as some firearms employ the use of spatiomancy magic and others mainly use psitech.

Firearms

Grav-gun: A very versatile form of gravitic firearm that generates powerful telekinetic force to either channel a lance of gravitic projection or psionically manipulate objects from afar. Grav-gun are usually short range and low power in nature, however there are exceptions in a few sub-variants. There are over several millions of diverse grav-gun models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Graviton Propulsor: The Graviton Propulsor launches powerful, hypervelocity gravitic force, tearing the atomic bonds of solid matter. Graviton Propulsor requires an extended period of time to replenish its power pack yet make up for its range and stopping power suitable for an anti-tank weapon. There are over several millions of diverse Graviton Propulsor models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Horizon Launcher: The Horizon Launcher or Singularity Cannon, is a potent, anti-tank, slow rate, gravitic weapon. Unlike other grav-weapons, the Horizon Launcher produces an extremely compact space-time field, dense enough to produce a temporary miniature singularity. Due to the general hazard of such weapons and the cost to manufacture one, the Horizon Launcher is rarely, if ever, used in combat. There are over several hundreds of diverse Graviton Propulsor models, each with their own dozens of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Grav-pistol: A smaller and inferior variant of the grav-gun to be held in one hand. There are over several millions of diverse grav-pistol models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Vehicles

Graviton Cannon: The Graviton Cannon is a standard model design to be affixed on a light armoured vehicles. It operates similarly to the grav-gun albeit in a much larger and more potent scale. There are over several millions of diverse Graviton Cannon models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Graviton Disruptor: The Graviton Disruptor generates a high concentration of gravitic force that strips materials to the molecular level. There are over several millions of diverse Graviton Disruptor models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Singularity Engine: A long, often sleek metallic rod that materialise miniature black hole and propels it at hypervelocity. There are only several thousands of diverse Singularity Engine models, each with their own dozens of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Explosive

Repulsor Grenade: The Repulsor generates a condensed gravitic wave strong enough to tear through object in its vicinity. There are over several millions of diverse Repulsor Grenade models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Horizon Nexus: The Horizon Nexus, also known as vortex grenade manifest a temporary miniature black hole. There are only several thousands of diverse Horizon Nexus models, each with their own dozens of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

[Thermal Weaponry]

Thermal or thermic weapons utilise intense heat to melt through layers of armour and flesh mainly through the usage of scorching radiation waves similar to a microwave along with the utilisation of pyromancy and heliomancy magic. Thermal weapons are generally short ranged with the exception of a few. However it is an incredibly effective anti-armour weapon, capable of melting through layers of arcane metal quickly. Thermal weapons generally produce a sizzling sound as it boils the water vapour in its surroundings.

Firearms

Thermablaster: The thermablaster is a standard, anti-armour, thermic firearm. It is generally low power in comparison to some of the heavier variants, however possesses a faster recovery rate as a result. There are over several millions of diverse thermablaster models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Thermicaster: The thermicaster is an attempt to develop a longer range thermic gun. Much like the thermablaster, it possesses all of its similar quirk with the added benefits of range - however with the cost of power and efficiency. There are over several millions of diverse thermicaster models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Inferno Blaster: The Inferno Blaster generated a highly potent thermic energy with a shorter range, able to pierce through layers of armours and photon shield with ease. There are over several millions of diverse Inferno Blaster models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Inferno Cannon: The Inferno Cannon is a superior variant of the Inferno Blaster, generating thermal energy several times the standard inferno-weapon. There are over several millions of diverse Inferno Cannon models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Infernite: The Infernite is a small, handheld firearm with similar property of the inferno-weapon however much inferior to them. There are over several millions of diverse Infernite models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Flux-cannon: The flux-cannon has little distinction between the Inferno Blaster save for its superior melting capability. Where the Inferno-weapon temporarily melt metal layers before they rapidly cool down, the flux-cannon ensures the slag remains in a molten liquid state far longer. There are over several millions of diverse flux-cannon models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Dehydrator: A (mostly) non-lethal variant of thermal weaponry that produces just enough heat energy to boil a body of water or raise body temperature and causes heat stroke. There are over several millions of diverse Dehydrator models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Vehicles

Thermic Strafer: The Thermic Strafer is the main standard weapon for heavy infantry vehicles. It generates a greater power than the Inferno Cannon, projecting a thermal energy beam capable of melting through thick tank armour. There are over several millions of diverse Thermic Strafer models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Heatstorm Turret: The Heatstorm Turret, mostly affixed upon heavy armoured vehicles projects a wider ray of thermal beam instead of the straight energetic column of the Thermic Strafer weapon, it has inferior range than the Strafer however able to destroy multiple targets at once. There are over several millions of diverse Hellstorm Turret models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Thermic Shell: Instead of unleashing a beam of thermal ray, the thermic shell propels a quasi-solid projectile that contains within it a highly concentrated microwave energy that has been augmented with pyromancy. The shell, after hits a target impact would then fulminate into a large thermal explosion and dense radioactive waves

[Blaze Weaponry]

Blaze weapons unleashes wraith manifested incendiary torrent, bursting into gouts of soulflame. As per the nature of soulfire, the fiery apparition latches upon a target and scorches them in its own will, destroying both physical and immaterial manifestation of the object. Blaze weapons are most deadly to living beings regardless of their physical components whether they be organic or otherwise as it burns not only their bodies but their souls - hence the name.

Firearms

Scorcher: The main incendiary weapon, it projects high concentration of soulfire in a very limited range often used to tear down structures and flush out enemies. There are over several hundreds millions of diverse Scorcher models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Heavy Scorcher: The Heavy Scorcher is a larger, more powerful variant of the Scorcher. The produced soulfire is so dense that it appears almost bluish gold in hue. There are over several hundreds millions of diverse Heavy Scorcher models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Incinerator: The Incinerator is a longer-range variant of the blaze weapons, instead of producing the standard etheric purplish-red of standard soulfire, it produces a thick bluish-purple fiery beam. Although not as potent as the Heavy Scorcher, the Incinerator most excels at burning the immaterial rather than the corporeal. There are over several hundreds millions of diverse Incinerator models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Vehicles

Cremator: A large blaze turret that discharge a large gouts of soulfire in a large pillar formation often affixed upon a mech-walker. There are over several hundreds millions of diverse Cremator models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Muspel-Incinerator: It is a larger, more powerful version of the handheld Incinerator that produces twice the amount of soulflame. There are over several hundreds millions of diverse Muspel-Incinerator models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Explosives

Thermal Grenade: Much like the thermic shell, the thermal grenade contains within it a very dormant yet very powerful concentration of thermal energy waiting to be unleashed as a large radius of boiling heat. There are over several hundreds millions of diverse thermal grenade models, each with their own thousands of specific sub-variants with varying degrees of quality and designs.

Additional Material Trivia

Halcrete: A polymedium matter that resembles and shares with the consistency of concrete save for its superior durability, greater tensile strength and passive molecular regeneration.

Ultra-adamantine: An adamantine alloy that has been fused with various astral-matter to produce a stronger variant of adamantite metal. Although it possesses superior durability, ultra-adamantine is a low mystical conductor therefore quite difficult to emplace rune-code upon its surface.

Ultranym: A dark crimson metal alloy fused from plasteel and dragon blood to produce a highly draconian metal that shares almost the same property of dragon scale with the added benefits of metallic consistency.

Luminate: A subcategory of glassinite that has been engraved with heliomancy runes to generate light.

Meta-mithril: One of many variants of reinforced mithril in attempt to increase its durability, tensile strength, thermal resistance and mystic immunity.