A/N:

Last Admiral: Do you want to know why Empire was so happy to invade? Not because they are murder lemming, but because of Gods and their tech cockblocking scheme.

Apparently Empire is been stagnating lately, and their past ways to break through these barriers (conquest) is not really an option. Empire is basically seeing the cracks forming and it can't get any new plaster to fix itself. So when Gate opened, Emperor decided to gamble on it.

And other paths to break the stagnation that isnt war and conquest was blocked by the Gods, forcing the Empire to go near-endless war and conquest to extend the life of human civilization from crumbling. Proof? Manga chapter, page. And that piece of info was originally exposition by omnipresent narrator and in order to translate that into manga format, they put all words into Rory's mouth. while it was said by Rory, it was actually abecause Rory serves as "Word of God/Author".[...Continued]

A: I mean yeah, pretty much. Even the anime (if I recall correctly) directly states that the Falmart Gods want them to stagnate and prohibits any kind of progress.

Also, yeah your last point is pretty spot on - the irony that humanity had achieved so much, but what's left is an embarrassment of a legacy.

Lord of Seven: holy shit there's a lot to unpack here.

I cannot wait to see Falmart gods shitting their collective pants if they knew that the space wizard empire is able to *contain* god and be used as a glorified battery.

It's interesting to see you add more background lore involving the ancient humans, I fel like they'll be important and related to Falmart human in the future- at least that my theory.

Also can you describe how each of those 'palaeotech' is shaped like? Because it's kind od hard to visualise some of them, it'd be nice to paint an illustration of them.

I have one more question. So if the prehistoric humans have such advanced technology, how come are they apparently rare? I know its mention that the Pantheons took most of them during 5 millennia up to 10 millennia but how did they take, let's say, the giant solar system machine thing? And where does all that relic go to? Did the Pantheons just keep tjem in a vault? Did they reverse engineer them?

A: Describe them? Like what do you mean, give every one of them a list of physical description? Well if that's what you're asking, some of them I deliberately leave it vague so you can use your imagination I guess. I don't know, should I list down their appearance description?

For your second question, I also deliberately left it vague. But I think you can imagine the possibilities if the ancient humans are capable of literally breaking the laws of physics to do wacky stuff. For the Pantheon parts... well, they're gods and as mentioned, they can create warp-bridge. That is the best I can explain without getting into too much details. Oh and also, some gods study to reverse-engineer the paleotech, some doesn't - it depends really.

TankLover: Wait, if the ancient humans could literally build worldship and create massive solar system sized structures, where does all that go to? Also, what happen to ancient cities on planets? did they get absolutely destroyed, leaving no trace at all?

Very interested to see where this is going. It seems like the Sovereign is finally making a move.

A: As mentioned, the answer is left intentionally vague. Besides, the ancient humans have swarms of space eating nanobots, time warping weapons and even gods as their pokemon.

Maxtwice27902: Amazing how you are able to create all of these codex. I'm loving these!

A: Well thank you, I wrote these mostly as a reminder for myself for most part.

Chapter Nine: The Scarlet Beast

Corus City, Northern Naversci, Iscar

[99, 855 AH/99M.855: Novem Millennium]

Dome cities were common in the nation of Naversci, large hemispherical structures saturated the land, with great interconnected cobwebs of transportational vessels between each dome. Amongst them were large plasma-mounted macrocannon armed with mystical fusion generators, capable of discharging several kilotons worth of heavy plasma towards any aerial threat.

The planet of Iscar was once the homeworld of over thirty-four billion fae, however now became a battlefield to six hundred million soldiers and a hellscape for the rest of twenty billion surviving populace. The mesospheric defense field held steadfast against ceaseless pounding of enemy orbital bombardment. What little support that came from the sky was scant and barely intact.

Several invading gunships suffused through the defensive cracks, assaulting the dome cities and their macrocannons. The massive dual barreled cannon-turret, shaped likened to a twin cuboid rod. It churned unceasing plasmatic barrage over the enemy flying vessels. They were the only anti-air defence available for the planet. Every pounding plasma was the size of grav-trucks, punching through several layers of fighter craft and gunships with ease, instantly killing their foes. However, where many were caught under the intense firepower of macrocannons, few dropships were able to weave through the heavy artillery and found themselves amongst the ground forces.

The Apex tanks roared as they belched bolts of ether shells towards the enemy's mechanised forces. The incorporeal projectile ruptured into iridescent ribbons of writhing energy, tearing through flesh and armour alike. Accompanying the massive main battle tank were the slightly smaller and lighter Predator tanks.

The Sovereign's Schara Striker skittered forward, its thick black carapace a contrast to the Enforcer's pale hue. The hexapod machine, equipped with one large Phase-Cannon above its flat body. It fired a beam of phantom energy, the luminous ripple of helix-shaped projection bore through layers of plasteel, melting the flesh of unfortunate few that were caught within its destructive wake.

A battalion of Terrestrial Troopers held against the cyborg army of the Invicta Exercitus and the religious militia of the Templar Legion - both of which were powerful combat forces serving the Sovereign. The former, directly created by the Imperator of Sovereign from technology and knowledge derived within Overscape, the veteran and well disciplined cyber-soldiers. The latter, a legion of religious cults who believed themselves to be the will of their god, fighting with relentless fury, carrying the willpower and mental strength of a thousand griffons.

It was a bloody and arduous battle, with innumerable death filtered by the hours. Synth-blood and wraith-flame littered the landscape as great dome-cities collapsed and imploded under the constant assault.

The Nova Segmentia Pattern-Regiment from the planet of Novarix were common amongst them. Their white clad exosuit armour marred with blood and grime, the men and women of the Enforcer unleashing torrent of arcane plasma and voltar to the invading forces. The Templar Legion responded with an equally devastating tide of unending phase weapons and spume blasters.

Amongst the bloodbath, Commander Corphelius Akremman stood beneath a collapsed structure, watching the battle from his holo-pad with furrowed brows. He had served in the war since he was an adolescent, a war that had raged on for forty five years. The kitsune grunted when he felt the overpowering force of mystical explosion somewhere in the distance.

The defensive walls and positions had all but crumbled, every tactic was countered from both sides as their soothsayers clashed against one another. The trenches they've dug haphazardly constructed across the province, spreading through the entire region. Hail of plasma and phaser blasts saturated the air whilst tank fire rumbled the ground and sky-ships blotted the clouds.

"Sir, we've lost Delta Mongoose. One of the Apex is heavily damaged, the internal repair system couldn't do anything to fix it," a voice filtered through the communicator.

Corphelius groaned, his gaze wandered at a fallen structure being punctured by plasma artillery. "Round up and gather at the 5th Column, we need to stand guard and keep the enemy force from Dome Fifteenth. Droid reinforcement will arrive shortly."

"Sorry Sir, but my platoon is currently engaged with enemy Templar. We cannot move."

The commanding kitsune cursed, spewing litany of hexes to the gods before he gave his reply. "Very well, keep me updated and don't die."

"Aye Sir."

The planet of Iscar was one amongst many that were located near the outer fringes of Alliance's domain, within the same sub-sector of various of Sovereign's planets. It was rather understandable why the Sovereign would want to attack this world; it had a large supply of caches of nuclear armaments designed to be loaded into battleships. It was a threat that needed to be eliminated.

A shriek of voltric discharge blared besides him, immediately triggering the man's warrior instinct. The Piercer in his hand was a mere Garrenfold-Pattern Mark, it was an old model - rather crude and cumbersome. Corphelius readied his blaster, the virtual reticle appeared in front of his visor.

The man gasped as the robotic soldier, Cognator Mark I, crumbled under intense gravitational force and was flung several feet back. The humanoid machine was one of the latest droid products to be manufactured, second only to the Husk S-1. Over the body of the crumpled machine-corpse was a tall and slender mechanical entity with spindly digitigrade legs and four segmented arms, one of which wielding a grav-weapon.

Corphelius cursed rather loudly, his position was supposed to be secure. In a hasty attempt to halt the droid, he fired his plasma blaster. The bright blue lance streaked past and slammed against the machine, only for its personal shield to flare dim violet before flickering away.

The droid glanced at him, revealing three glowing green eyes and a pair of mandibles that betrayed that it was perhaps not even fully mechanical as he initially assumed. The cyborg creature lifted its weapon as it writhed with swirling gravitic energy.

Corphelius quickly ran back, his locomotion augmented by the suit's servos. The terrifying hum of gravitic propulsion was all he heard alongside the crumble of collapsing halcrete structures. The kitsune turned, seeing the cyborg-insect still chasing him.

The man seethed as his footsteps hastened. His blaster cooled rapidly but was not quite yet ready for a second shot. Corphelius scowled, he had heard that the latest plasma blaster, ARC-5 Piercer, suffered no such predicament. It would be a far better option than this.

The cyborg-insect leapt and pounced behind him, one which he readily sidestepped away from the incoming attack. The half-machine had two of its four limbs pierced the ground. The creature paused, its unblinking green eyes peered the soil below for a solid second before its gaze averted, only to be met by a point-blank fire from the plasma piercer. Even its advanced photonic shield couldn't ward off the devastating effect of miniature star puncturing through its carapace.

Corphelius steadied his breath, his gaze finally darted to the chaos around him. The landscape was brimming with the flame of destruction and ashes of death. It was hell incarnate, where agony was plentiful and hope was scant. He pushed himself up, seething as a sharp pain from his knee finally registered, the internal system alerting him of the damage it had endured.

"Commander Akremman?" The sounds of footsteps pattered towards him, a group of armoured Nova Segmentian encroached his position, eyeing the dead entity. "We've managed to push back the forces in Thenath District, one of the Predator was able to incapacitate their Crawler."

"What the fuck is that thing?" One of the Troopsmen murmured as his gaze remained glued on the headless cyborg creature.

The previous Troopsman glanced at the insect-cyborg in contempt. "Shredder Unit, cyber-augmented dolichons. The majority of their cerebral cortex had been replaced with mechanical implants - and well, the rest of their body too."

"You've fought one of these before, soldier?" Corphelius questioned as he checked upon his blaster.

"Yes, in Uthnite, but I never saw one carrying a grav-gun though. They're... usually armed with one of those damned phaser weapons," the soldier answered.

"Sir, we've got reports that the western region has successfully repelled enemy forces and they're coming here to help us." A Terrestrial Trooper exclaimed excitedly as he approached the group. Corphelius blinked in surprise at such news.

"That was... fast?"

"I don't know how but the reports said that we've got help from a white haired nekomata or something. Apparently he disabled enemy fleet somehow," the soldier provided.

Corphelius' eyes widened at the mere mention of a white haired nekomata. He had heard rumours of such a thing, of a man capable of impossible feats. "Good, it seems like god is on our side today. Order the troopers to hold the ground, tell them reinforcement is on the way. We need all the morale we can get."

"Uhh Sir, shouldn't we be worried? Intel said that the neko threw a tank with his bare hands," murmured the Trooper, much to the bafflement of the others.

"Damn, you think it's a secret weapon or something?" Another chimed in. "Maybe it's one of those Vastator Projects I've heard so much about."

Corphelius sighed, feeling weary and tired. "No, I've seen a Vastator. I can confirm that whoever or whatever that was, isn't something we should know about. So shut your mouth and churn your blasters, we've got some Sovies to kill."

Unnamed Base, Alnus Hill, Falmart

[Modern Era 100,000 AH/100M: Centuris Millennium]

Partov Akremman blinked for a few seconds, reeling back as his mind slowly filtered through the new information. He gasped, pulling the cortex memory chip from the base of his nape, the sleek silver construct slid smoothly from the port module and placed atop his sweaty palm.

The man inspected the chip, it was small and disc-shaped, barely the size of his thumb. With a tired sigh, the man placed it into a small container where several other cortex memory chips were available.

"Fishing through your grandfather's memory again?" A voice interrupted his thoughts.

Partov steered to face the woman, she was a lamia. Her lithe body reached down from her abdomen to the tip of her tail. The kitsune felt his furred tail flickered for a moment as his gaze unintentionally lingered. "Commander Slither..."

"No need to be so formal with me Major Akremman, oh sorry - I meant Partov," smiled the lamia as she slowly slithered her way to the man. Her eyes darted to the container box where twenty years worth of war experience was kept within.

Partov sighed to himself as he pushed the box back into the polymedium shelf. "Command-- Lisa, you shouldn't be here."

"I can be wherever I want to be, I'm a Tertiary General," replied the woman with a smirk. She stood beside the seated kitsune, her eyes slowly studying the man before she knelt down, placing both hands on the armrest as her face was inches away from Partov. "I miss you by the way."

"Y- you know this isn't allowed right?" Partov replied hesitantly, his cheek flushing at her warm breath. The scent of lilac pervaded his nose, causing his spine to tingle.

Lisa Slither, the Orb Tertiary General of the expeditionary force, paused for a few seconds before she relented and slithered back, although not quite distancing herself from the major officer. A long drawled sigh emitted from her lips, "we haven't met for three years and you're giving me the cold shoulder now are you?"

"I- well, it's not my fault that you've risen to the ranks faster than me. Besides, this mission isn't going to be long - hopefully." The kitsune murmured. "Anyway, how's things back home?"

"I haven't been to Norympia for such a long time Partov, so I don't know. Besides, there's no one back home anymore for me to care," Lisa mumbled as she chose a seat on the bed.

Partov glanced at the lamia who was once his childhood friend, now had become his superior. The kitsune furrowed as he studied the woman. "Is there something wrong?"

Lisa was briefly startled, glancing at the kitsune before she gave out a long exhale. "No, it's just... work stuff that I'm feeling quite uncomfortable with."

"Anything you want to talk about?" The man uttered with concern.

"I don't trust that dwarf," exclaimed the lamia readily. "He's acting all too secretive."

"Oh you're the one to say that," remarked Partov.

"I'm serious, Partov. Apparently we've got a whole regiment of covert operatives that is not to my knowledge. I just found out about it yesterday."

There was a pregnant silence pervading the air before the kitsune hesitantly responded. "Should I know about this...?"

"It's not classified if that's what you're worried about," Lisa gently swept the bang of her hair away. "I'm not that careless with my job."

Partov paused to stare at his old friend, there was worry in his eyes as he studied her. With but a stride, the kitsune sat beside the lamia. "I know that. Is it anything you want to talk about?"

"I just... want somebody to talk to. This all doesn't feel right," murmured Lisa, frowning. "I've looked into his files, and funnily enough, there's a six year gap of information about him."

"Who... the dwarf general?" The kitsune barely knew the man, thus it was a topic he could hardly delve into. "What was his name, Vandu, Vandas?"

"Vando Basalt," murmured Lisa.

Partov blinked, hesitantly giving his answer. "I have to admit, Lissy, I don't know much about the higher-ups to have an opinion. Seems like a decent guy, if not a bit stiff."

The lamia furrowed, but relented. She slowly slithered away from the bed as she adjusted her uniform. Her eyes darted to the room and caught sight of a framed picture of them when they were children, an image taken from a Martian restaurant. "Sorry, I have to go. Got a whole lotta work, I appreciate the company, Partov."

The man glanced up, "I- if you need anything, can we hang out again in the future?"

"Oh getting a bit bold are we?" The lamia turned to face him with a wink.

The kitsune flushed, slowly getting to his feet as he brushed away nonexistent dirt from his nano-weaved cloth. He sauntered closer to the general before both hands clasped hers', his eyes locked directly on the woman, much to her own surprise.

"Look, I uhh... we can try to start if you want to," Partov murmured softly. "I know my answer back in the academy was a bit indecisive, but... well, I think we can try and... y'know hang out or something. Not now obviously, but maybe in the future after all of... this?"

Lisa Slither was caught off guard, her confident mask cracked as a sliver of uncertainty seeped through her expression. "Like a date...?"

"Y- yeah. Like a date. Y'know, just me and you."

The moment of shock and fluster was but only a flicker before the lamia hid it behind a smirk, she slowly sauntered away, her serpentine tail flicking as she reached the door. "I would like that someday, there's a lot to catch up on."

Somewhere In Falmart

Sophia was yet again baffled by the sheer strength for such a small frame of body the girl possessed. She had killed several lupine creatures alone with nothing more than her halberd and her fist. It was rather unnerving.

The meat Sophia was forced to consume was... disgusting. Her species, although far more than capable of digesting flesh, was still unnatural for a herbivore like her. The sickly red hue, elastic texture and repugnant scent almost made her barf - if she wasn't so hungry.

"I know you not like meat, but food good for large walk," the little girl said.

Sophia exasperatedly sighed, the psi-translator had been tirelessly at work to decipher their language and the meaning behind each tone and fluctuations. It had been five days and the deciphering implant had finally, at least somewhat, removed the language barrier - however crude as it may be.

"I know," Sophia snapped, which in hindsight was probably a terrible idea against a fae with superelven strength, speed, stamina and durability. Luckily for her, the girl was not a petty, egomaniacal person. "Can't you at least sprinkle some salad on top?"

"Sa... lad?" The girl murmured, eyes squinting.

"Edible green plant," Sophia clarified, hoping that the psi-translator simply hadn't picked up the word yet and not the fact that such vegetation didn't exist here.

"Oh, you mean (salad)?" The raven haired girl uttered with a smile. "You learn speech quickly. Faster than some magician."

The forest was thick with green vegetation, with branching trees scattered about, encompassing the entire landscape. Sophia felt both uneasy and mesmerised by the beauty of it all.

"Hmmm," she simply replied. "Where are we going to be, wherever it is that we are going?"

"Speak slower. Me not understand it all," the girl replied. Her gaze darted to the endless trees that were slowly parting, revealing an empty green field. "But if you ask where we go, answer is (Alnus Hill), your (home/abode/rest)."

Of all the words yet to be deciphered, Sophia was frustrated to find that the two most important one still veiled behind lingual obscurity. She groaned, an action noticed by the girl but ultimately ignored.

"Speaking of (home/abode/rest), what your place look like?" The girl questioned, or at least Sophia assumed it to be a question. The haphazard structure of her psi-translator made it hard to properly understand the sub-elf.

"My place - you mean like my world?" Sophia tilted her head, both ears perked forward. The usagimimi, for a brief moment flinched, suddenly were reminded of her abode. A pang of homesickness struck before she softly exhaled. "It's... well, imagine an entire landscape filled with... tall towers, great spires of metal and glassinite - are you following me?"

"You speak in riddles, (bunny/rabbit) woman slow down," the girl exclaimed.

"Forget it," Sophie half whispered. Her tongue felt gross after she felt the meaty sludge slid down her esophagus, the bunny woman shuddered, holding back a bile. "When are we moving again? The sun is setting."

"I know not that word, (bunny/rabbit) woman," the sub-elf replied with a squint.

"The sun, y'know - big ball of light in the sky?" Sophia gestured to the drifting star, its slightly yellowish hue was no different than that of Terra.

"Oh, you meant (Flare/Sun/Light in the Sky)? Well, it will be another three or four hours before dusk settles."

"Your vocabulary seems to have expanded now," Sophia commented, grinning slightly as the psi-translator was getting better. "That's good."

"Your word doesn't make sense," she tilted her head in puzzlement. "You are the one speaking my language, no?"

Sophia sighed, "sorry, seems like exhaustion had taken a toll on me. Your language is pretty... confusing."

The girl curved her lips, a glint of mischief reflected upon her retina. "That is (rich/amusing/strange) coming from a (person/individual) who speaks in music."

"This is going to be a long journey..."

Rory had met many peculiar people in her life, but none could come close to this bunny woman. It surprised her greatly that she learnt the Falmartian tongue so quickly, it had only taken a few days worth of conversation for her to pick up a few words and sentences. Granted, the demi-human's grammar and vocabulary were rather crude - in fact, almost comical half the time.

The apostle still couldn't ignore the choric tune of her voice, it sounded like the melodic hymn of Wareharun's prayer. Rory never knew that someone's lips could replicate musical instruments - it was pleasant to the ears. At least, she doesn't have to get tired of the bunny warrior's voice.

The trees had slowly parted, revealing the vast empty plains before them. Rory smiled when she heard the woman's sigh of relief and a hint of awe. It was a beautiful sight, although Rory couldn't understand the way she seemed so mesmerised by such a mundane scene - was this rare in her world? Perhaps such a scene was even nonexistent in their domain.

The apostle couldn't imagine such a realm. She smiled, hoping that someday she would be given the chance to behold the other side of the Gate. Perhaps there would be something of great interest for her to see, or perhaps not. Nevertheless, whatever the circumstances, she had a duty to serve. Rory still remembered well the fresh image of Alnus in her mind, and the general direction of it.

Her foot carried her forward, guided by the gentle sway of her God's guidance. Rory's ear perked when she heard an excited gasp from the bunny woman, she turned to face her, only to see the demi-human glaring at a particular avian.

"Oh my (god), that's a pigeon!" Her eyes sparkled. "Or at least I think it is..."

Rory raised a brow, "that is indeed a pigeon, I just don't see why are you so excited about it?"

The woman shook her head. "You don't understand, it is a legendary (creature) from where I (came) from. It is from a famous folklore detailing the tale of a miracle bird known as the pigeon, the symbol of fortune and luck. (In fact) if I remember (correctly), one of our (aircraft was named) the pigeon."

"I... do not understand your last sentence."

"It's a small mythical bird that symbolises lucky charm," murmured the bunny woman exasperatedly. "Well, not really 'mythical' per say, but more so an extinct species."

"Oh, extinct?" Rory perked, immensely baffled and intrigued all the same.

The woman averted her gaze back to the dirt path. "(Unfortunately), I don't know much to give you (clarification) on that matter."

Rory nodded, though she knew not what two of those words meant, the demi-goddess could form a few guesses from the way the sentence was structured but nothing more than that. "The more you speak of your world, the more interested I am in it."

"(Oh) trust me, you're in for a (ride)."

Coda Refugee Convoy, Falmart

If it weren't for the fact that they had to monitor several carts at once, their journey would've ended three days ago, but alas, the White Night platoon had a duty to serve.

To emplace servo engine modifications upon all their wagons was an ingenious idea from the Null Agent, giving their wooden vehicles a slight improvement with the wonders of modern magitech. Their wheels were affixed with molecular servo-tendrils, graviton steering unit and a simple mithril skeletal frame to keep the contraptions connected and stable.

Lelei especially was most intrigued by such peculiar mystical artefacts. She could feel the faint trace of magic, but one that had been diluted and stained with foreign presence. Nonetheless, their strange apparatus were a divine work to say the least. Even her aged mentor struggled to form conclusions from such complex pieces of technology - in fact, the mechanisms were much more unfathomable than Sadera's trebuchet siege engine which engineering they had prided so much on.

What was even more bizarre and spectacular were their iron carriages. Metallic containers kept afloat by unknown type of levitation magic perpetually maintaining its spell without suffering from mana deprivation - somehow.

Food supplies were distributed during their entire journey, provided by the winged demi-human as he flew from one cart to another. The food given was delectable, equal to the blessings from a goddess. It was nothing more than a simple bread and strange yellowish pudding atop, but it was sustenance beyond anything they ever tasted. Why these demi-humans were so kind to provide them luxurious foods was a mystery, perhaps simply as an act of kindness.

Lelei enjoyed her time and simply observed the oddity of their convoy. It was a congregation of sixty carts carrying over a hundred and fifty men, women and children. A trail of people kept inside wagons powered by magic.

The mage's mind raced as the wind caressed her face as the trees and grass blurred past. Beastmen were known for their lack of affinity in the art of sorcery, and those that do were mostly shamans who borrowed such arcane might from the spirits - a rigid and inflexible magic compared to the spellcraft humanity had mastered.

Thus it came as a surprise to her to find that these subhumans were masters of the mystic art, performing seemingly impossible spells. What Lelei was most intrigued by however, other than their iron carriages and armoured carapaces, was the peculiar, cuboidal, metal stave latched upon their back. The mage apprentice had seen the devastating effect of the enchanted item, how it unleashed bright blue light that speared the head of a horse to oblivion.

Not even the most potent of flame-mage could replicate that kind of power. The smell of burnt flesh and sound of sizzling bones still pervade her mind.

"Lelei, you are spacing out again," remarked Cato El Altestan, his hand firmly grasping upon the reign of his mule as he lazily observing the trail of wooden carts moved itself without a steed to pull.

Lelei shifted, her gaze drifting to one of the nearest wagons. The wheels were replaced with strange rubbery materials and supported by a metallic rim affixed to steel rods connected to each other below the frame of the carriage, there was a strange, small metal box kept affixed in front of the wagon - its blinking yellow light was a subject of interest.

"I am... contemplating," Lelei commented monotonously. "Their magic... I still cannot decipher how they function."

Cato was silent, the old man stared at the front of the convoy, where they were led by an armoured chariot. Their glassen windows, if it could be called such, were utterly dark - like the thick, opaque onyx wall. The sage wondered how they could even see from the inside if their vision were veiled.

"Yes, that's understandable. It has been so long since I've come to marvel at the wonder of magic, it feels fresh to learn new things."

Lelei subtly nodded, the staff in her hand suddenly felt inadequate. It was given to her, forged by a runesmith and woven by an enchanter. The wooden pole carved from hickory tree, emplaced atop it was a sculpted manastone meant to resemble both a feathered wing and flickering flame, depending upon the observer. At the bottom of the staff was simply an ordinary blue gem, a simple means for decoration.

"You are curious," Cato continued, Lelei remained silent. "You want to learn more from them."

"So do you," the young apprentice replied.

The old man paused, before he smirked and chuckled. "True, but I do not trust them. Not entirely. They had just survived from an Imperial incursion, I don't think they are particularly pleased with Sadera - and therefore us, to an extent."

Lelei shifted, her face remained the same even when irritated. "They seem to be nice people."

"I am sure they are, but it doesn't hurt to practice caution," Cato exhaled.

The inter-neural link between the motor engines actively whirred in the background of digital space. The constant whispers of data streams between the modified wagons fed the central computing system located in one of the Ursa, the mainframe server responsible for overseeing the sixty wagons trailing behind them.

Enigma was hard at work keeping the connection stable and monitoring the conditions of each modified carts along with the subsequent occupants of said carts. Aerulle had tried to reinforce each and every wagon with a simple ward-protection spell, but had to relent after realising the sheer task ahead of her. The elf's vitas would plummet before she even got to enchant two wagons.

Despite the earlier hassle, the journey was rather uneventful. The soft whine of the graviton engine and the subtle whir of motor powered wagons accompanied along with them, echoing as they moved with hastened pace.

Hendrick had kept his sight maintained forward, the imperceptible yet pervasive nature of the neural-link constantly swirling in his mind. It was an odd sensation, neither pleasant nor uncomfortable - simply peculiar. He could telepathically feel the constant activity of the Ursa's sensor array and built-in spirit-construct (also archaically known as AI). It was as if the vehicle was an extension of his body - a rather common theme for the majority of their currently manufactured vessels.

He couldn't recall the last time he had been on such a mission. Motioning the Ursa upon a Garden World. Most of the time he had spent his days in simulated training in Luna - exciting at first, but the perpetual repeat of the same thing quickly tires him.

To finally step foot outside of the stale air of Luna's interior base or the equally bland atmosphere of Terra was refreshing. Hendrick supposed that he should consider himself lucky to even be chosen for this expedition.

The kitsune flinched at that line of thought, the guilt came to berate him as his mind wandered back to the images of abhorrence, reminding him the savagery of the so-called Empire. Hendrick would've delved deeper if it weren't for the vehicle's spirit-construct telepathically alerting him of his wandering mind - the kitsune immediately snapped back to attention.

Though the vehicle was more than capable of performing its task requiring only a sliver of his attention - it was still an ill-advised action. Hendrick internally sighed before his gaze briefly darted to the kobold beside him. Her silence was palpable, especially with the ever present flicker of void-force sometimes leaked through her unsoul.

The miasmic Null was an anathema of all things immaterial - the opposition of magic incarnate, and since the soul was, for the most part, incorporeal, a void-wielder (also known as nullifier) with enough power could completely erase, or at least partially remove a person's soul - a horrendous fate worse than death.

"How's the wagons doing?"

Enigma didn't bother to avert her gaze, "adequate."

"Is the inter-neural link working properly?" Hendrick continued.

"All quasi-tether connections are at hundred percent status. The probability of disconnection is 0.05%. Every modification unit emplaced was securely affixed, micro-cylindrical servo plastring seems to be performing at their optimal rate," the kobold answered robotically. Her crimson eyes unmoving as her fingers diligently typing away on the holo-pad.

Hendrick paused before he let out a soft chuckle, which finally prompted a reaction from the Null Agent as her eyes briefly darted.

"Did I say something funny?" The kobold's head tilted, her ears flicked forward as her hands paused their work.

Her squad captain shook his head, still smiling to himself as he continued with the journey. "I've spoken to one of the locals, her demeanor is just like you. She was a magus, I think."

"Blue hair, fifteen years old, a Class Sapphire, Type-1 sorcerer," Enigma chimed, though subtle, there was a slight intrigue behind her expressionless eyes.

"How did you-"

"I am a Null Agent, it is my specialty to analyse and appraise others," she answered so casually. "I am, however, unable to determine the extent of her magic item. The readings are... conflicted."

Hendrick perked at that comment, his ears steered to the kobold. He had seen the mage-staff the two sorcerers wielded. Even his exosuit, one lacking in acute vita-sensor could pick up the sheer index intensity of the carved arcanite placed atop the wooden stick. The pulsating power was rather imposing.

"The theurgists are going to have a field day studying that thing," Hendrick sighed.

"Captain, I've spotted an anomaly in the distance!" The communicator suddenly burst to life, the sharp chirping tone of Jordan's voice pierced Hendrick's ears. "About 2 klick west, walking towards Alnus and intercepting our path in a few minutes."

"Is it dangerous?" Hendrick immediately questioned, his instinct ready for combat.

"I honestly can't tell, Cap. The zoom-visor's showing two bipeds walking at us, they could be anyone," Jordan responded.

"Shit," Hendrick breathed out. He was under the responsibility to protect a hundred and fifty civilians yet however, it was also his duty to ensure no innocent blood spilt. The kitsune held back his combat urge. "Hold fire and wait. Jordan, keep an eye out - and Aer, see if you can magic your way outta this."

"What do you want me to do?" Aerulle asked as her eyes subtly glowed. The runes formed before her fingers, it traced and danced between her digits.

"Well, what can you do?" Hendrick turned, facing his squad's only battlemagus.

The air beyond Aerulle's palm wavered then swirled before a crackle of energy sparked between her fingers. The power of the Rift was subtle but intense, great tendrils of wraithstuff manifest themselves into ribbons of iridescent light before they were tampered and bent into mystical sigils. There was a circle of magic on her palm, floating just inches away from her skin. "A lot of things, if push come to shove, I can freeze every cell in their body, or make their skin flammable."

"Okay maybe something that is not as violent," Hendrick grimaced.

"Captain, it's a human girl... and an usagimimi?" Jordan's voice cut through the communicator.

Enigma shifted, her gaze drifted from her holo-monitor to the windshield. Her eyes furrowed as her tail tersely swayed, the Null Agent could feel an intense aura emanating from a distance. "I can sense... thick vitas."

"Me too," murmured Aerulle.

Lucas had chosen to guide the convoy through foot. It was not an arduous process, it was rather relaxing. He had yet to tire or ache, his footsteps kept in the same pace with the congregation line of motor-powered wagons. The ambient chatter of comm kept his mind roused and active, even when his thoughts had wandered during their journey.

The neko's eyes darted to the alpha-class esper to his side, gliding her way along with the trail of carriages. The kitsune ignored as eyes fell upon her, those curious and awed at the sight of a woman kept afloat by unseen force.

"Captain, I've spotted an anomaly in the distance!"

Lucas immediately reacted, both ears perked up as his tail lowered and his limbs tensed. Emily swivelled her head, psychic tendrils reaching out beyond her sight. The apostle awaited for the squad captain's command, his eyes narrowed as his heart pumping ichor through his thick vein.

Emily twitched, a gasp escaped her lips before her attention was turned upon her comrade. "I - I can feel a powerful mystical presence, the dense vitas are blocking my telepathy."

"A sorcerer?" Lucas muttered.

"Worse," Emily replied with a scowl upon her face. Her fingers flexed as her tail anxiously swirled. The pebbles around her became massless, gravity no longer took hold of them.

Lucas flinched, his mind immediately raced to the worst possible options. In an instant, he pulled out his Vestige, the hilt hissed as he forced arcanus into it. "Daemons?"

Emily paused, hesitation crossed her eyes for a brief moment before she shook her head. "No... this is different."

Lucas propelled himself forward, his vision blurred as the wind pattered against his head and torso. From a great distance, the Apostle of Null could see a glimmer of a dark clad girl accompanied by a barely draped usagimimi. His eyes traced the person's body, appraising her strange black dress and oversized halberd.

Lucas hesitated, his brief examination revealed nothing to indicate that the pair were a threat - other than the halberd obviously. Their steps were kept at a slow pace, none of them exhibiting any signs of hostility.

"Emily, are they...?"

"They're not aggressive, that much I can tell." The esper answered his incomplete sentence. "Still though, keep your guards up."

Lucas squinted his eyes as the pair of newcomers grew closer. "I am."

Rory flinched when she felt a strange presence in the air, it was thick and overwhelming but oddly vague as well. The apostle raised her brow at the sight, it was a congregated row of carts being escorted. Even from afar, the demi-goddess could easily identify the oddity of the situation - there were no horses pulling the wagons.

Her interest only grew as her slow amble brought her closer to the convoy. There were two armoured carriages of some sort, kept afloat by what presumably assumed to be levitation magic. One of them was located at the front, and another was far at the back.

The grip upon her halberd only tightened. The apostle smiled, she could feel the strange scent in the air and the new presence in the plain. Her eyes briefly darted to the bunny woman beside her, whose eyes seemed to have bulged and her lips parted.

"Do you know them?" Rory questioned.

Before her question could even be acknowledged, she was interrupted by an approaching blur in the distance. Great pillar of dust was kicked in the air, a towering swirl of brown haze, revealing only a silhouette of the person responsible. Rory could feel the strange presence growing stronger, her heartbeat thumped, stimulating her muscles, urging her to leap and cleave.

However, the apostle held her foothold, suppressing every urge to fight as her eyes glued upon the creature - or rather, the young man. Amongst the clouds of dirt and dust, her inhuman eyes could clearly see a humanoid entity from within it. He had a soft olive skin, dazzling blue eyes and stark silvery hair. He had a lean form, with lithe arms wielding something she couldn't quite make out.

Then, the blur halted before her, revealing the true nature of the person. He was a catfolk, with large triangular and furred ears. He had a slightly curved yet equally sharp chin, and even sharper eyes. Amusingly enough, the catfolk before her was only a few feet taller than her own.

"Who are you?" He spoke in a strange yet comprehensible dialect, there was a slight melodic tone to his voice.

"L- Light Guardian!" The bunny warrior beside Rory suddenly uttered, his eyes displaying relief and joy.

The catfolk in turn, seemed immensely surprised. He blinked for a fraction of a second before all attention was upon the woman. "Are you... from Terra?"

The bunny woman's eyes glistened before tears traced her cheek down to her chin. The demi-human collapsed under the catfolk legs as more tears spilled from her face. "Oh my god, yes finally! Thank you, thank you so much!"

"Emily!" The catfolk called out, both hands gently clasped over the woman's shoulder, keeping her stable.

It was then that Rory realised an auburn haired foxfolk emerged from behind the catfolk. She was lithe, her movements, though hurried, were graceful. Yet despite that, there was an unnatural aura leaking out, a hushed whisper of thousand voices. Rory found it to be a little alarming.

The foxfolk knelt and Rory saw a glimpse of illumination deep in her iris, a flicker of unnatural light. The fox subhuman sighed, "she's fine. Just mildly injured, she needed a rest."

The catfolk stared at Rory, noticeably frowning before he let out an exhale of relief. "We will talk this out later."

"I assume you are from Alnus?" Rory started, eyeing the man's attire. It was a mix of silken fabric and armoured plate made of unknown, thin, white carapace.

The catfolk raised his brow, Rory could see an inkling of doubt crossed his bright blue eyes. That hesitation however was brief, with a tired sigh, he answered. "Yes, and who are you?"

The centuries old girl studied the person before her, how his big furry tail swayed cautiously, his own eyes studying her's. Even from a distance, she could feel the sheer, intense miasma of souls that anchored unto his own. Despite his dainty appearance, the catfolk was obviously a warrior - a very powerful and inhuman one at that, beyond even to the standard of his kind.

"It's the Oracle!" Came an excited voice before Rory was greeted with a group of small children, beaming at her emergence. The Apostle of Darkness widened her eyes, whatever tension there was immediately soothed by their presence.

Rory knelt, ignoring the baffled stare from the pair of demi-humans, her eyes met the child's own. "Where are you from?"

"We're from Coda!" A boy answered enthusiastically, displaying his youthful and joyful nature yet to be tainted by the hardships of life. "These people help us!"

"So you're not forced out of your home?" Rory smiled, her eyes drifted to the catfolk as his brow was raised.

"They were escaping from a Flame Dragon, we just happened to be there," the catfolk added, his stance had laxed since the children appeared. His gaze averted to the foxfolk at his side, a brief glance, followed by a subtle nod.

"I assume you must be someone important," the fox woman stated as her hands gestured to the surrounding juveniles. "They seem to know you."

"Well, first off, can you answer my question?" Rory countered as she rose back to her feet. She had hoped to meet the otherworlders, but did not expect an encounter this early. Not that she was complaining, there was much to learn from these strangers.

The pair of demi-humans shared a look before the catfolk responded. "It depends what your question is."

"I've had quite a pleasant conversation with the bunny woman, and I can make a few guesses but... do you all live in the same land, or are you like, a coalition of multiple kingdoms?"

The catfolk's confusion was not lost to Rory, even when he tried to hide it. "I'm afraid I am at a loss for what you are trying to say."

"You are a catfolk, she is a foxfolk, and that woman is from the bunny warrior race. You are all different kin of demi-humans yet you've seem to hail from the same place," Rory uttered.

"Because, we ARE from the same place."

"A collective of diverse demi-humans under one banner?" Rory murmured, expressing her amusement with a coy smirk. "What an interesting nation you have."

"Is it that odd?" Questioned the catfolk, a slight shift to his tone.

"Such unity is not unheard of, but definitely never on such a scale. Nevertheless, there are more questions to come," uttered Rory.

"We don't have much time, perhaps you want to tag along?"

Lucas didn't know what to make of the girl. She was not human, that at least could be established. From Emily's brief yet thorough psychic appraisal, revealed that not only she had an abnormal muscle density beneath that petite frame but extremely rapid metabolism as well, defying the Material Plane's conservation of energy.

From his two and a half centuries of living experience, Lucas could only narrow down the possibility of her nature to one, and it was one he was most concerned of; it was obvious that she was the same as him. To suggest the existence of apostles in this world would suggest the presence of Pantheons, and to suggest that would mean that the Gate was their doing.

Rage. It was the first flash of emotion that overcame him the instant of such revelation. An unbridled fury to those incorporeal, conceited and self-centred parasites that dare to toy with lives as they have so many times in the past. Such audacity was not to be ignored.

However, though he was far from a wise man, Lucas knew not to fall to the temptations of his primal emotions - that, at least, was much he knew, a principle he kept for a hundred and ninety years. There was much he had to discern from the apostle, more of this world's nature and its relation with the gods that lord over it.

Rory Mercury was her name.

From what little his eyes could peel, she was probably a warrior or a harvester type sub-pantheon. Death and war were two things that first flickered in his mind. However since she had yet to reveal herself, Lucas had to reel his thoughts. If his presumption were true, Lucas feared he was ready to face the inevitable, however if it was proven to be nothing more than false presumption then he could rest easy knowing he was wrong.

War gods and death gods were two dangerous deities one could ever face - for obvious reasons. They were the dreaded aspects of a civilisation, an abhorrent reality that couldn't be denied yet shouldn't be welcomed either. His last battle with Athena had proven much of that.

"This carriage is amazing!" The girl - no, the entity, exclaimed. Her eyes sparkled as her gaze roamed the interior of the Ursa. Lucas had initially proposed for her to sit amongst the wagons, but after the constant and unyielding insistence from the apostle-girl, they were forced to comply, lest they would spark her ire and risked the life of many innocents. The girl turned to face the elf, "how do you even maintain the levitation spell of this thing?"

"You mean... anti-gravity spell?" Aerulle murmured, not quite sure what to expect from the strange girl.

"That is not an information we can disclose unfortunately," Lucas exhaled as he adjusted himself from his seat. If it were just an ordinary person, the nekomata would've left the girl in the Ursa and continued his trek on foot - however, she was far from ordinary.

"Oh?" Rory curved her lips, gently placing her halberd on her lap. "I suppose I understand. It is a remarkable magic, one that cannot be shared."

"Yes, but I can answer other questions," Lucas stated.

"Okay then, why do you want to help them?" She pointed towards the trail of wagons behind. "What exactly are you seeking for?"

"Nothing much," Lucas casually replied, lightly pushing away strands of hair from his eyes. "We just figured that making friends is much more beneficial than making enemies."

"Really? Even when the Imperial attacked you people?" Rory pressed further, leaning slightly.

"We are not some barbaric, violent and uncivilised people who knew nothing but war," came the soft reply from a wulfen who sat besides another foxfolk. Her eyes landed onto Rory's, the piercing gaze from her iris was almost unnerving.

Rory tilted her head, her interest had only piqued the more she spoke with them. "Oh? Well, I've seen many kingdoms in the past who said that - but they're the ones who always start a war."

"Many kingdoms in the past? You sound like you know a lot, how old are you anyway?" An elf of the group questioned. Rory could tell that she was not from anywhere within Falmart - or on this world in that matter. Though the elf was physically indistinguishable from any common light elf, the magic rich demi-human had an otherworlder's tone to her voice.

"Oh why? Are you interested?" Rory muttered as she giggled.

Then, without warning, the catfolk pulled out a dagger from his holster. For a moment, instinct took over, her fingers tightened as it wrapped around her halberd. However her split-second stance faltered as she realised the blade fell upon his palm, wherein blood quickly oozed. Rory's confusion only lasted for a few seconds as she observed the sight before her. What was once a bleeding hand now left nothing more than his soft, unscarred skin.

"Let's end this charade. My name is Lucas Bright, I am the Apostle of... Light. I've come here because the god of your world has opened the Gate," Lucas said, sternly glaring at the girl.

To say she was shocked would be an understatement. Although such a notion wasn't out of possibility, she hadn't considered that there would be other deities at the other side of the Gate. In an instant, the apostle shifted her demeanor, finally taking in the severity of the situation.

"So... you are a demi-god huh?" Rory murmured, still baffled by such a prospect. She had never heard of a catfolk apostle, though one couldn't deny the idea of it sounding alluring to some gods. "I found it strange that your patron god would want to be involved in this? What does these people have to do with anything... 'light'? Are they your followers?"

"You could say that," the elf exclaimed, an answer that earned a glare from the male foxfolk.

Rory held her tongue, she had initially expected to have arrived and interacted with the mortals, and quite possibly cull them if they prove to be a threat to the balance of the world. However, the notion that there would be other involved gods never crossed her, or Emroy's, mind. Despite knowing well that her patron deity would be thrilled at the prospect of facing a foreign power, such action would likely cause the catastrophe of both realms. Something to be greatly avoided.

"I see, then I must apologise for Sadera's action. Do what you want with them, it doesn't concern the gods," Rory exclaimed. Internally, she was in great distress, diplomatic negotiation was not her greatest skill. Although she wished not to spark a divine war between the two worlds, the apostle will not hesitate to strike if no other options are available.

"How about the Gate?" Lucas pressed, taking mental note of her sudden change of demeanor from casual to serious.

The Dark Apostle hesitated, her eyes narrowed. "That's... the work of Hardy, the Goddess of the Underworld."

"Fuck," murmured the voice of the foxfolk.

Rory tensed when she saw the glare from the man's eyes that was, however, brief. His fleeting rage was all the warning Rory needed that they indeed dislike the concept of Underworld. Perhaps something related in their world? That was an enigma she would be forced to learn soon.

"Then what are you the apostle of, Miss Mercury?" The catfolk inquired, his voice calm and collected. Yet, for a person who had lived as long as her could easily discern the worry behind his eyes, how his muscles tensed and quivered, every inch of his body ready to pounce. It frankly reminded so much of herself.

"Emroy, the God of... Darkness," Rory noted, an answer that quickly put them to ease.

"How ironic," murmured the ashen haired wulfen, the lack of fluctuation in her voice only made her seemingly more inhuman. "The apostle of light meeting the apostle of darkness."

"Wow Enigma, didn't know you could crack a joke," Hendrick uneasily chuckled.

The kobold simply stared, expressing her genuine confusion as her head was tilted. "It was not a joke."

Tuka had chosen to remain silent as she observed the event unfold before her eyes. Much had happened today and it overwhelmed her. The elf mumbled a prayer as she averted her gaze to the other elf in the carriage.

She was a warrior, unlike her. One that was filled with determination and courage that Tuka herself lacked. In all honesty, the Koan elf was at awe to meet an impressive individual from her own kin. There was some pride in that revelation, to know that her kind wasn't the meek creatures branded by the Imperials outside of Falmart.

However, despite it all, Tuka found the other elf's lack of spirit magic to be disturbing. She had seen the woman operate her magic, how she mainly utilised spellcraft rather than the guidance of Wareharun's spiritual magic. Perhaps the other elf was disconnected from the spirit goddess in her world, a tragic fate for an elf.

"Nine hundred sixty one!?" The foxfolk expressed his surprise. "Wait, so that means you're... a few years off to becoming a full fledged god?"

"Oh, how interesting. You are an educated fellow aren't you?" Rory the Reaper teased, her finger poking the man by his side.

The foxfolk only displayed annoyance at such action, both his hands firmly grasped upon the armrest as his eyes remained mostly locked forward. "Don't disturb me when I'm driving."

"How do you even reign this wagon?" Rory inquired as she leaned forward, standing between the foxfolk and the wulfen. "You must be a powerful sorcerer."

Tuka silently agreed. It seems like almost all of them were magic-users. For mere beastmen, one of the mortal race in Falmart to be the least magically attuned of all, to wield this much magic was unheard of. Yet, whatever or wherever realm they came from, it seems as if every member of their kind were masters of the mystic arts.

"I'm not a sorcerer, this cart is... enchanted you could say. It's magic is designed so that ordinary people can use it, provided that they have a soul or at least a functioning mind-pattern."

"Enchanted?" Tuka finally spoke up, albeit her voice was more of a squeak than a proper remark.

"The explanation is long and tedious and frankly, I know very little of magic. What I do know however is that it's designed to be compatible to almost all fae-- I mean mortal, in existence," exclaimed the foxfolk. He gestured towards the pair of cushion slabs at the side of his head, where they both seemingly glowed ominously. "These are the neural-links, a... magical artifact used to read a person's intent before it is relayed on the vehicle."

"This chariot can read minds!?" Tuka gasped.

"Well, not exactly. It can only transfer your willpower and intention, it shifts this vessel from being another hunk of metal into an extension of your body. Me, my mind and this 'carriage' as you call it, are now one and the same," answered the foxfolk sagely.

Rory was lost at words, such magic was comparable to the work of gods themselves. To infuse oneself with an object, weaving one's soul with a weapon, an artefact or any form of inanimate items of power; that was practically magic beyond the likes of any in the mortal realm. The apostle internally mused to herself of such revelation, she should approach these people with caution, their level of magecraft were a dichotomy to their beastmen status.

Clover Castellum, Alnus Hill

The newly constructed base, now named as the Clover Castellum, a moniker given to honour the victims of Clover Tragedy. It covers over roughly six miles of land in diameter from one end to the other, with the Gate located at the central hill. Beyond the military bastion, separated by a thin photonic barrier, were the expansive landscape of buildings and other structures erected for the purpose of civilian use - a preparation for future interplanetary annexation after this 'war' would be over.

In the meantime, as more structures were built and many ex-slaves took refuge, deep within the prison chamber of the halcrete fortress was where Duran found himself to be. His current situation was peculiar, to say the least. For all of his years ruling his kingdom and leading his army, not once had he ever expected to fall under enemy's hand.

The dungeon he was kept in was immaculately pristine, with opaque light grey walls and strange gemstone that lit the area. Beyond his cell, what separates him and the outside world was a solid magical barrier that felt bitterly cold to the touch and extremely durable too. It was different to that of the common mage barrier in that it didn't much as flicker or waver, and neither did it ever dwindle over time.

Such a quality of enigmatic sorcery was beyond any he had seen, heard or read of. It was a prospect that only cemented the notion that despite their beastmen nature, the otherworlders were far from being magic-incompetent compared to their brethren in this world. An idea that was ludicrous to even give the moment to ponder.

Duran was somewhat grateful for his treatment. It was by no means pleasant, but it certainly far better than whatever horror his own guards would've done. He was kept in a relatively mundane room with a slab of metal affixed on the wall where it was draped with a thick curtain that was meant to be his bed.

At the corner, he was given a place to excrete waste - a strange silver bowl that was powered by some kind of water magic. He was also provided with a strange white cauldron affixed upon a wall, where there was a hose that could indefinitely produce water by just the wave of his hand.

Duran was thoroughly impressed, even a place where they kept their prisoners were laced with enigmatic magic. The walls, the floor, the ceiling and everything within; if he was given the chance of escape, the king would've taken the opportunity to take one and brought it back home.

The old king sighed to himself, the very notion of freedom vanquished as he reminisced of the otherworlder's terrifying death magic. He couldn't imagine how he was going to lead his men even after thousands of times recalling the battle, trying to think of any way possible to exploit an unfounded weakness. It was unachievable of course, the vast gap of power was far too astronomical to even compare and comprehend. It would take the might of the Flame Dragon to even reach such power - a feat beyond the capability of mortal men.

Duran stirred from his bed when he heard the patter of footfalls echoing the opulent dungeon. He rose to his feet, both eyes fell upon an encroaching horseman creature; a centaur, if he recalled correctly. They were a noble yet equally barbaric race of the North - their relentless spirit surpassed those of the bunny warriors.

This particular centaur was clad in mostly grey, with a hint of light blue traced over the lower portion of his body. Like many within this mysterious fortress, he had a peculiar uniform dissimilar to any Duran had ever seen. It was made in some kind of stretchable silk, coloured in dark grey with white, geometric line-pattern at the side of the shirt. Perched upon both of his shoulders were a pair of flexible carapace that resembles a pauldron yet smaller and less cumbersome. Etched above the chest-pouch was an emblem Duran had the pleasure of seeing countless of times.

It was, presumably, the symbol of their military power. A token of their army. Said symbol was shaped like a golden halo, with six spear-things jutting from the central ring, where they formed into wing-like structure. The details of the carving were admittedly beautiful and intricate, like it was woven by the delicate hands of fairies and spirits.

"Hi, I hope you're doing great," uttered the centaur, the same one he had met prior. "The room isn't too cold is it?"

"Why have you come here?" Duran spoke cautiously.

The wall of light before him dissipated into nothingness, they shimmered into prismatic radiance and dissolved into obscurity. Duran furrowed - even their prison wall was a work of art.

"To talk," uttered the centaur so casually, not a worry in his eyes. The man turned, his quadruped hooves clopped against the hard floor. "I believe you will appreciate this."

Duran staggered when a pair of iron golems emerged from the shadow, their rigid motions seemed so unnatural and eerie. Their blank faces staring intently onto his soul. The King of Elbe shivered under their enigmatic presence. They were not men nor beast, a spirit bound in a metal vessel to heed under the command of the demi-humans. He had seen and fought a golem once, albeit that was made of stone and much larger, and way cruder.

They were powerful entities, powered by the essence of spiritual energy, only the strongest sorcerers could bend the spirits to their will. To wield one golem was a feat in itself, to claim many could be considered prodigious - yet to provide the spirits with a metal body of intricate manner was a blessing worth only for the herald of the divine.

Duran felt his knees quivered slightly as he was escorted across the dimly lit hallway. The stark white wall slowly shifted to dark grey and the bright, blinding, white light replaced with the glow of amber hue. Everything about the demi-humans was beyond any of his comprehension.

They built structures that rivalled the monuments in heaven, they wield power blessed by the gods and they possessed magic that surpassed even ancient legends. The old king anticipated many things from the otherworlders - but this was not it. They were not even given a sliver of chance in victory, no amount of army could ever stem the relentless fury of their fire javelins and light arrows, no amount of ogres could ever challenge their iron beasts and steel demons.

That prospect had only stirred his hatred to the Empire, burning the soft flicker of an ember into a flaming inferno.

The light that pierced through made Duran subsequently squint, it was then he realised that he was outside, under the heat of the sun and the soft whispers of the wind. The monarch slowly turned to gaze around him, finally given the opportunity to observe the state of Alnus.

The green, peaceful meadow was no longer present, in its replacement were instead vast architectural majesty that spread across the landscape, reaching over several miles of distance. There were unnumbered geometric constructs that encompassed the former field, most of them uniquely shaped yet conformed to the standard angular pattern he had seen so commonly throughout the hill.

Duran was at awe at the sheer size of it, though it was nowhere near the scale of Elbe or Sadera - it could certainly boast in its infrastructural magnificence. The former king still couldn't comprehend how they easily built a town in less than two months. It would take the entirety of the Imperial and its allies' slaves to rival such a feat. They must've had a great number of loyal servants under their servitude.

That, or perhaps it was the work of the strange orange golem that he noticed a second later. It was a floating cuboid with several unusual extensions and shapes upon its rigid body along with six metallic arms, all terminated at odd magical instruments. Duran gasped when he saw one of them flew itself near and subsequently conjured stone and steel from the tip of its instruments.

"Mage golem...?" Never had Duran seen golems ever performed an inkling of magic. They were meant to be tamed spirits trapped in a non-living vessel to be under the command of their summoner - they couldn't possibly conjure any magical spell, much less comprehend it with their bestial mind.

"Fabrimacons; droids specifically designed to help in infrastructure construction. They are quite the useful tool," exclaimed the centaur nonchalantly, as if any of his words made sense. "Fascinating aren't they?"

"H- how did they come into being?" Duran found himself asking.

"For the record Your Majesty, it is not a 'golem' as you'd understand. It is something far more... complex and intricate," said the centaur. "To answer your question would lead to several more inquiries... but you're lucky that I like to talk. So let me answer your first question as best as I could; I simply don't know."

The king furrowed, "you don't know?"

"I am not a forgesmith, Liege of Elbe. It is beyond my specialty, but if you are wondering how it works then maybe I can introduce you to our 'smith' - do you want to meet him?" The centaur smiled giddily as he turned to face the irritated Duran.

"Forget it, the magic will be far too complex for my comprehension," Duran exhaled.

The demi-human only beamed. "Oh good, you finally understand."

Duran did not appreciate his casual tone, but it was not in his position to question the equine beastman - after all, the human was still their prisoner, he couldn't afford to act irrationally. The king followed along the centaur's tracks, taking the opportunity to observe everything he could. The grand fortress was an impressive structure, a massive pyramid built upon layers of metal, stone and strange opaque carapace.

There were myriads of wonders that scattered the hill; iron carriages, armoured beasts, armoured beastmen, steel golems and multitudes of magical artefacts beyond his understanding. It was a goldmine of magical wealth, if he were a mage, Duran would no doubt faint at the sheer scale of it all.

"Where are you taking me?" Duran asked, his eyes finally darted to the centaur.

The demi-human simply and irritatedly smiled, winking at the king with a finger upon his lips. "That's a secret."

Ultimately, their short journey took them into a smaller but equally grand building. Like many of its kind, the structure was a blend of stone, metal and glass. It was a wide, horizontal cuboid with four extensive, arching pillars at the edge of the cuboid displaying its glassen sheen. Duran could spot several strange protrusions and extensions, all of which conformed to the geometry of the building.

The entrance was grand, with two tall prisms at the side and an arch that opened into a large gap where the door was made of glass. The amount of glass and metal was astounding, if not, a bit opulent. Duran wondered how much land they had plundered and how many mountains drained just to build a building like the one before him.

Duran shivered when he stepped inside, eyes widened at the sudden, unexplained chill. His gaze wandered the place in apprehension, only to see more splendid beauty within it. The walls themselves were traced with strange geometric patterns and angular lines, the ceiling brightened by mysterious glowing crystals and floating chandeliers made of gemstones.

The interior itself was spartan and bare of any decorations, befitting for a military compound - yet even at the lack of lavish extravagance, they still managed to make it look grand and imposing.

"What is this place?" Duran murmured, finding himself at a loss for words.

"Oh, it's just an addendum building - a sprout structure from the main central command," supplied the centaur with little to no explanation - or at least one that was comprehensible.

"W- what is a sprout structure?"

The centaur turned as his ears flicked, the two golems besides him paused. "You sure do like to ask questions don't you? Don't worry, I like questions - even if I can't answer them."

"Mr Splinter. So, you've brought him here," Came a voice from a distance. At a glance, Duran could easily tell he was a high elf. The man's bronze hair was well kept and combed, he had a slender body frame hidden beneath the sleek grey uniform the king had seen so much. "A pleasure meeting you then."

Duran stayed on his feet as he studied the man, he had a different attire than the rest. It had a much darker tone than most and the coat was much longer either, reaching near his thigh. Like many of its kind, the outer coat had silver pads upon the shoulders and a golden badge attached to the chest.

"Who are you?" Duran apprehensively muttered, he had seen enough of the otherworlders to understand their power and he could only guess what sorcery the elf before him possessed.

"Tertiary General Isaac Laeldryn, I am one of the six folks who run this operation. I hope you are comfortable, Mister Duran, because this will be the longest hour of your life," exclaimed the elf brusquely.

The golems parted ways, leaving the centaur and the elf with him. The knife-eared demi-human, the commander of their army, studied Duran with but a brief glance.

"You are taller than I expected," he remarked. "Still, I finally got to put a face to the leader of an army who attacked us."

"What is the purpose of this?" Duran questioned tiredly. "I have given to you all I know, what more do you need?"

"I need your cooperation and perhaps your assistance as well," the elf replied before he motioned the centaur to bring the human into a sparse room. There were barely any furniture or decorations inside, only the plain walls to accompany them and one table with two floating chairs.

Duran still was curious about the chair - if he was given a chance by some miracle of the gods, the king would've taken the opportunity to claim at least one artefact within the room and brought it home. He imagined that the item would be worth a fortune, perhaps enough to be used as a barter against the Empire - or mayhaps it was all just wishful thinking.

"Sit," commanded the elf.

If it were any other situation, Duran would've stood fast and denied the elf the pleasure. After all, how could a human submit to a demi-human? The Monarch of Elbe however, slowly settled to his seat, finding its soft texture to be most comfortable. Duran flinched when the chair's back post shifted and its soft surface morphed to better accommodate his form. He internally let out a gasp of awe, even their most simplest of furniture displayed the magnificence of their sorcery.

"I know you're confused and probably apprehensive about this situation, but I assure you that we mean no harm," said the man. "Now, do you know how you've brought here?"

Duran nervously glanced at the centaur, then roamed his gaze through the interior before it fell upon the elf. "I... ran, and encountered... something."

Suddenly an ethereal manifestation emerged before him, it floated and flickered above the table. Duran suppressed his shock behind a light gasp and stared at the immaterial sculpture, a tridimensional illusion that was an accurate rendition of an entity he vividly remembered. It was clad in black, its body was made of strange fabric and solid carapace, its head hidden beneath a rippling cowl and its face covered behind a black, glassen pearl. The creature was partially coated in black miasma, a strange oppressive smog that constantly pervades in its presence.

Duran found it hard to stare unto the being, his eyes grew lazier and hazy as he glared deeper. "W- what is that?"

"I believe this is what you are referring to, it is called a Null Agent. They're specialised in covert missions, assassination, magic suppression... and well, I understand if you are feeling confused about it. That is often the result of... direct contact with a nullifier."

"You own that demon!?" Duran slightly furrowed, he was both impressed and terrified. There was something inhuman regarding the black creature, an inherent unnaturalness to their existence.

"Oh please don't need to call them that," the elf commented. "They are people like you and me. They're a bit different, yes - but everyone is different in their own way, no?"

"I am tired of this charade, just tell me what you want. I have nothing left to offer, I am defeated. My army, destroyed and my kingdom left to be preyed on by the Empire," Duran uttered defeatedly. "What purpose do you bring me here? To gloat?"

"Like I said, to make an offer you will not refuse," exclaimed the elf.

Duran perked, his tongue stayed as his lips parted. The king-turned-prisoner was riddled with confusion. What more could he offer? What more do these otherworlders demand?

"I understand that you have left your kingdom undefended and without a leader, is that correct?"

The human monarch leaned forward, slightly irritated at such a declaration. "No, it is not without a leader. I have my trusted son."

"So I assume he could defend himself against the Empire?" The elf prodded further.

Duran paused, staring deeply into the knife-eared's eyes before he left an exasperated sigh. "No..."

"Well, we can help you with that," stated the elf. His words gained the full attention of Duran within mere seconds. The mystical demi-human leaned back, with but a swift swipe of his hand, another illusionary sculpture appeared. It was an image of Duran's army, taken from the sky. "From the way I understand, Sadera sent you here to attack us without any intel on us, correct?"

"That... is accurate," Duran answered hesitantly, still marvelling at the magic before him.

"Well, you see, we plan to one day... inherit Alnus and we will need an ally to support us in the future, perhaps a trading partner to keep the money flowing, if you know what I mean."

Duran perked, expressing his puzzlement for a split second before his frown deepened and his body shifted. "Continue..."

"Well let's say if we... release you from here, send you back home - hell we might even give you a couple of gifts but in turn, you'll have to pledge loyalty to us. We can set up a trade, and maybe the Alliance can send some help to your kingdom and... share some of our artefacts. What do you say to that?"

Duran was flabbergasted. He paused as he let the prospect of it sink in. For a second, the human monarch was left speechless and confused, his mind raced for an answer. "B- but why? Why all this trouble?"

"Why, you ask? Why don't we just go around conquering the land?" The elf smirked as he rested an elbow on the armrest. "Easy. It's just not worth it. Do you realise the kind of resource and funding it would take to spread our forces across the continent? Do you comprehend how much we waste by sending armies on some worthless territories that can barely offer us anything? Isn't it much better to form an alliance and cooperate rather than divide and conquer?"

"Worthless?" Duran murmured.

"Yeah, pretty much. Your kingdom, your territory and its resources... doesn't mean much to us," the elf casually remarked. His eyes then darted to his', showing a subtle glint behind them. "Except for one."

Duran flinched, his apprehensive stance grew more tense. The man's gaze hardened as he glowered at the elf. "And what would that be?"

The elf answered by conjuring an illusionary magic of a glowing mana stone. The demi-human sighed, as he inclined further into his chair. "This, what your people call 'mana stone' or 'magic crystal' or whatever it is that you name it. As you can see, magic is an integral part of our lives, we breathe and live with it."

The human's eyes widened as he slowly absorbed the information. He could understand their goal, it was not difficult to see what they were trying to achieve - yet one crucial point remained unanswered. "I - I would help if I could, but the Kingdom of Elbe has not much in mana stone excavation. You do realise it is a... rare mineral right?"

"Don't worry, we have our own way. You don't need to worry yourself with that, what we demand is only your cooperation. A unity between two factions doesn't sound bad does it?"

"Forgive me for my apprehension, but I found all this to be... too easy," murmured Duran.

"It doesn't have to be complicated... unless, of course, if you want to. Our goal is simple yet ambitious. I'm sure you understand what we want," replied the elf.

The human king was visibly hesitant. This was not the first dealing he had with a demi-human faction, but in most of those cases, they were expected to be foolish, simplistic and easily inferior to his own forces. Even if negotiation were to fail, a simple force of power was enough to dissuade any northern barbarians. However, the demi-human before him was far from a barbarian; in fact, it wouldn't be farfetched to claim that they surpassed Sadera in both military might and technological advancement.

All his prior experience dealing with demi-humans were obsolete against an unbeatable foe. Duran slowly clasped both hands together, his thoughts already reached to a conclusion. It was useless to resist now, it would serve to do nothing more than doom his kingdom.

"I accept your offer, but for a price."

The elf didn't nudge nor frown at that comment, with a simple smirk, he answered. "Name it."

Unknown Plains, Falmart

Lucas had learnt plenty he could of this world from the half-goddess, most of which worried him. This world was under the influence of twelve gods, all of them serving for their own interests. From what he understood, they were supposedly a uniting force yet still rivalling against each other.

He had expected to at least encounter one or two Pantheons, but to know there were a dozen of them influencing this planet alone was worrying. Lucas was rather shocked to discover this world had been under such a regime for several millennia and not once had it been obliterated to oblivion - or perhaps it already had. It was frankly uncertain how deep their power over this world goes as not every Pantheon were equal in their ability.

Lucas sighed, the more he listened to her rant, the less he felt comfortable being in this yet-to-be-named planet.

"Hmmm, you know I am curious..." murmured the dark apostle. "I've answered all of your questions, can you answer mine?"

"I will do the best I can," Lucas replied.

Rory's eyes wandered the interior of the carriage, her eyes traced its metallic frame, hiding a slight sense of wonder. "These carriages... are they provided by your god?"

"What?" Of all the questions Lucas anticipated, this was not one of them.

"You are an apostle right? I assume these... carriages must have been a blessing from your master. Quite a generous deity I might say," exclaimed Rory.

"It is not, we created them," Aerulle answered. "We have our own forgesmith and enchanter to do that work for us."

"Are you telling me you mortals create this thing?" The demi-goddess tilted her head as she squinted at the elf.

Aerulle perked her brow, "is that unbelievable?"

"Huh, I suppose not..."

"Uhh... Guardian, Psyche heads up. We got an inbound coming," Hendrick uttered, breaking the conversation. His finger flickered a holographic switch before he enlarged the astro-radar. "We've got some sort of an aerial entity approaching, seems to be a chimera-class creature."

"I'll handle it," Emily replied from outside. Her body kept afloat several feet in the air as she kept a steady pace with the rest of the convoy. The esper gazed upward, using both telekinetic feeler and telepathic scrying, she could sense an incoming creature in their direction - however, she could feel another presence too. "Wait-"

"Holy shit! Scratch that, there's another one and it's much larger!" Hendrick exclaimed.

What was once a small dragon had now become nothing but a meal for a creature much greater than itself. Its crimson hide glistened under the sun, the soft olive underside of its belly cloaked in its own shadow.

Without a delay, Hendrick immediately override the previous command program of the other wagons and forced them into an emergency mode where they immediately halted and redirected themselves away from danger.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Roared the kitsune as he steered the Ursa away, its graviton engine hissed under pressure. "It's the fucking fire dragon!"

"Captain, there's a few wagons caught by it!" Cried Jordan as he observed the entire debacle from above. The harpy's eyes widened as the dragon loomed over them all, a great gust of wind swirled before it began to coalesce.

The resulting effect was devastating, great numbers of wagons completely incinerated. Those who survived were not unscathed, some of the villagers had panicked and leapt from their vehicles. It had only been less than fifteen seconds and casualty was already rampant.

Lucas' grip on the vehicle's wall tightened, gritting his teeth in frustration. With a kick, he slammed the backdoor open, the air fluttered around him. "Captain, keep the civies safe! I'll be dealing with that lizard!"

"Aye Sir," muttered the kitsune without an ounce of hesitation. He telepathically slammed the acceleration program, forcing every drop of the gravitic propulsion to drive them further and faster.

Lucas leapt from the Ursa, feeling hard ground slammed against his feet. The nekomata hissed at the prickling sensation of his skin before he slowed to a halt. The man glanced up, both eyes locked upon the beast. It was truly magnificent, a creature perfected by thousands of years of genetic engineering and accelerated evolution. It was a terrifyingly beautiful piece of art sculpted by mother nature.

The Moonlight Shard growled in his hand, the pure blinding white emerged and its biting bright teeth hissed for blood. Lucas appraised the creature for a few moments, studying its behaviour and strength. For an unaugmented creature, the Infernus Draconis was an impressive piece of biological evolution. Its scales were practically naturally grown ceramic armour, its fiery breath was synonymous to a mini-reactor.

It was comparable to the seraphim's ancient aero battle tank.

Lucas felt a presence at his side, his gaze flickered only to find the other apostle standing near him. Her eyes sparkled with excitement - as if this was all a game.

"Oh, what a surprise. That lizard is about fifty years too early from its nap time," she giggled.

"So, what can you do exactly?" Lucas questioned.

Rory stared at him in puzzlement. "Like... any apostle can. Why do you ask?"

Lucas furrowed. "No... I mean, do you have a special weapon, abilities or something that we can use?"

The girl smiled as she raised her halberd to her shoulder, one hand cheekily placed to her hip. "I have this thing."

The nekomata paused, momentarily baffled before he sighed to himself. "I see... well, can you do something to keep it off balance?"

Her answer to that question was to leap off and challenge the dragon head on. Lucas staggered for a brief moment, caught slightly surprised by her action before he gritted his teeth and joined the fray.

Lucas stared at the scene with a scrutinising gaze. The two Ursas quickly engaged with the dragon, firing a barrage of plasma gattlers against its scarlet scales. The blue hot plasma overwhelmed the dragon's supposedly heat-resistant hide, the overexcited particles tore through its outer carapace slowly yet surely. For the dragon, it was as if thousands of hot needles prickled its skin - a pain it hadn't ever felt before.

The dragon glared at the two metal bugs with its baleful eyes, for centuries had it roamed and enact its will over the land, unchallenged, unrivalled and unstoppable. Blessed by its master, the dragon was a physical incarnation of natural disaster given form; a storm in the shape of a beast.

The invincible monster took its stance as it lowered its head, a great gale of hot air flowed deep into its hardened lungs. The flutter of magic gathered as mystical energy reacted to the chemicals that entered its bronchus, the air particles increasing in pressure, heat and volatility. With a deep gush of wind, a mighty pillar of flames erupted from within its throat and pushed through its gaping jaw.

The creature watched as the two iron boxes barely dodged its attack with a speed comparable to a wyvern. As the battle dragged on, the dragon felt ever more infuriated, the prodding pain had only increased but it had yet to land a hit to any one of them. Furthermore, to make matters worse for the reptilian, its hind leg was suddenly struck by a powerful force - it did little more than to stagger its footing and incurred its ire.

Rory laughed, her raven hair fluttered against the wind before her foot firmly planted to the ground. The Apostle of Emroy grinned, lifting her halberd over her shoulder. "Hardy must be bored to wake you up so early huh?"

The dragon responded with an intense roar and an attempt to pounce her, one the demi-goddess easily evaded. Her gaze would often wander to the two iron chariots, to bear witness a display of might and chivalry as they faced against the very embodiment of catastrophe itself.

Her eyes then caught an even more impressive sight. Where she previously saw the fox girl, who was now floating in the air, body coated in a strange swirling aura. With but a flick of her finger, the very ground around the fox girl lifted and were thrown at incredible speed. The impact was enough to further stagger the dragon and slowed its attack.

Rory smiled, her knees quickly bent before she sprung herself to the flame dragon. In less than three seconds, their distance was closed and her halberd connected - a great wall of gale followed shortly after as the creature was forced to the ground, the impact was strong enough to crack the soil beneath its legs. The apostle did not pause as she continued her assault, an endless attack upon its impenetrable hide left its scales slowly chipped away.

The dragon retaliated, thrashing its body in an attempt to flung her away. The creature's endeavour was met with success as Rory found herself thrown several feet, which she then quickly regained her footing shortly after. Her halberd was laced with draconic blood, the red ooze dripped at the edge of its sharp blade, the scent of fresh wound was reinvigorating to her nose.

A great fusillade of large rocks were hurled at the dragon, their imperceptible speed was a blur in the air, every strike was powerful enough to puncture the outer husk of its hide. The beast let out another roar, growing ever more enraged. Emily responded with several more self-made meteor strikes upon the creature, using her telekinesis to easily lift hundred tons worth of minerals and propelled them several times the speed of sound.

The very wind quivered under the sheer strength of each strike, all of them were enough for the so-called invincible Flame Dragon to feel its devastating effect. The muscles beneath its scales quivered, its bones quaked at every attack. The air in its lungs often involuntarily escaped its lips.

Without much hesitation, the dragon released a torrent of flame to everything in its vicinity, an attack that managed to finally find its mark on one of the Ursas. The vehicle tumbled, the photonic shield instantly collapsed. However, it had survived - yet not without suffering a heavy damage. The outer plasteel hull slightly melted, the mithril frame completely turned into half molten slag.

"Holy shit, that was too close!" Cried Hendrick, his grip upon the armrest tightened. "Enigma, what's our status?!"

"We just got hit with an equivalent of a fusion plasma annihilator," uttered the kobold, even her monotonous tone betrayed a hint of concern. "The photonic shield is completely inoperable, a significant portion of the outer hull had taken heavy damage."

"W- we just survived a Flame Dragon's breath. What in Wareharun's name is this carriage made of?" Tuka murmured.

"Hold tight miss, we won't survive another round of that," Hendrick groaned. His mind flickered as his body tensed, he could feel the engine roaring as he forced it to its limit.

"Cap, our gattler isn't really effective. We've chipped off most of its outer scales but the inner flesh is just as thick," Aerulle informed.

"T- the eye!" Tuka suddenly pushed herself forward, leaning just beside the kitsune. "Shoot at the eye!"

"We can't," cursed Hendrick. "The dragon is thrashing too much. There's no clear shot."

The rest of the crew held tight as dust kicked in the air, Hendrick could see a blur flew past them and slammed against the dragon. The unmistakable glowing blade, one belonging to the Godless Apostle, could be seen illuminating in the distance. There were flickering tendrils of energy as it danced within the thick dust-fog.

Lucas held his footing and gritted his teeth, his arcane sword mentally snarling at him, demanding for more blood. The neko lifted his head to stare into the dragon's eyes, challenging the creature.

As it struck, the lab-born apostle skillfully evaded and simultaneously retaliated. The Moonlight Shard grew in size as its hissing white blade pierced the dragon's claw and dug deep into its flesh. The beast recoiled in pain, inadvertently drawing its blood even further. It shrieked, massive wall of inferno conjured from its lips out of instinct.

Lucas leapt back, avoiding yet another attempt to crush him. The nekomata glared at the beast, its maddened state only served to further extend its rampage. The apostle groaned, this battle shouldn't be prolonged any longer - there were too many risk factors to consider. Therefore, he took a deep breath and began his final executive decision.

The man frowned slightly when the other apostle rushed forth and struck the crimson beast recklessly, the impact once again staggered the beast. Lucas sighed, there was much to discuss with the girl.

"Emily, I'm going to open a rift storm," Lucas whispered, though his voice was telepathically carried to the intended recipient.

There was a silent pause before he was given an answer. "You don't need to."

Any attempted reply didn't leave Lucas' lips when he saw the gigantic monster was suddenly held down by an unseen force, the fabric of space warped and held the creature with the might of Jupiter's gravity. The creature thrashed even more violently, a great pillar of flames erupted and scaled the air.

"Okay, that works too I guess," Lucas sighed.

"Shut up and finish it off," Emily half chuckled, the strain in her psychic voice was far from being unnoticeable. "This thing is pretty tough. Still though, not the toughest one out there."

Lucas kept his gaze affixed upon the pinned beast. Its wings sprawled and pressed, the membranous flaps of its skin slowly being torn. It let out another roar, albeit one that was much weaker and desperate. Its baleful glare fell upon the nekomata, the unbridled hatred broiling deep in its soul.

Lucas returned the glare, however lacking in the same anger as the dragon. The apostle was exasperated, this scene was no different than so many leviathans he had faced before - they were all very prideful creatures, normally undefeated in their natural habitat. The grip on his sword tightened, the glowing silver writhed the air, deep energy swarmed at the tip.

Yet before he was able to deliver the final blow, a halberd was thrown from his side and perfectly lodged itself in the dragon's eye, causing it to screech in pain. Lucas gritted his teeth, with his strength reinvigorated, the Moonlight Shard found itself deep within the reptile's throat. The oozing blood vaporised, and the remnant gasses absorbed into the blade, the weapon licking every last drop it could before it was forcefully sheathed by its wielder.

"What kind of Divine Weapon is that?" Rory turned, pulling the halberd from the dead dragon's eye. "Is that magic? I've never seen anything like that before."

"Yours are not enchanted?" Lucas furrowed as he studied the halberd she held. It was made of godstone, a material conjured directly from Pantheon's essence, a solid substance made literally from god's essence. However, despite its clearly divine status, the weapon was nothing more than an indestructible halberd - a rather mundane object considering what other Vestige were capable of.

"Enchanted? Why would I need an enchantment? Is this not good enough of a gift?" Rory perked her brow and smirked. "Did you ask your god for enchantment? Huh, I must admit that I'm a bit jealous myself. It must be really fortunate to have such a doting master."

"Please don't say it like that," mumbled the nekomata as he clasped the Moonlight Shard to his belt. His eyes darted to the dragon once more, inspecting the damage it had endured.

"I'm very impressed," murmured the demi-goddess.

Lucas glanced at her with a curious gaze. The half-goddess lifted her halberd to her shoulder, the blood still dripping at the tip.

"Those light magic could pierce through dragon scale... what are those?" Questioned Rory. "No mortal weapons could ever do that."

Lucas sighed, "it's none of your business."

"Oh? Aren't you an amusing one," replied the demi-goddess, inclined against her halberd.

Lelei gasped for air, her fingers paled after she had gripped the cart with all her might. Her heartbeat thumped heavily against her ribs as her chest rose and fell at a rapid pace, the mage peered at the distance, staring at the impossible sight. Her lips parted as her pupils shrunk, her body trembled despite her face appearing almost the same.

Her master's reaction was less subdued, he was exclaiming something she couldn't hear.

The young mage hesitantly dismounted her wagon, eyes still glued at the terrifying scene. One hand clasped to her lips, the girl basked upon the absurdity of the situation. The great Flame Dragon, one that had been feared for generations, a beast foretold to be the incarnation of destruction, a creature that topple kingdoms, despoil nations and wrought death to an entire civilisation - the same beast now lay dead, its body unmoving and unflinching. The heat from within its once beating heart had started to dissipate, no longer carrying the gift of soul.

"T- the Flame Dragon..." Cato El Altestan mumbled, disbelief was apparent in his voice. "By Elange's Sceptre, I must be dreaming."

The same voice of disbelief was shared amongst the surviving villagers, staring upon the scene in utter shock. The dragon was to them like what a thunderstorm was to a mortal, it is an unbeatable, unavoidable natural phenomena. To see the same phenomena, one that had been compared to a natural catastrophe, be defeated so soundly by a few otherworlders and one apostle of god was unbelievable.

"T- they killed the Flame Dragon!" One of them exclaimed, the initial shock finally settled into clarity.

"By the gods... who are these people?" Another joined in the conversation.

More and more voices began to speak their mind. Their exclamation upon the display of power, their amazement at such power and their fear at the prospect of it. Many shuddered in fear just as they were in awe, how could mere mortals claim this much power? This was not even the greatest empire could achieve.

Lelei's grasp of her staff stiffened as she finally got a clear view of it, the dragon's unmoving body sprawled to the ground, its crimson hide was glamorous even in death. The young mage straightened herself, a new sense of determination filled her heart. She would do anything it takes to learn more of the otherworlders.

[End of Chapter Nine]

Scrutor Agency Lexicon Site

Security Level Clearance: Scrutorian Level-2 Access

••[UNREDACTED FILES]••

Subject Log: Vastator Legion

The Vastator Legion, dubbed by its enemies as the Deathcrawler or the Veiled Apollyons, are amongst the Armed Enforcer's finest defenders and warriors of the Harmonic Alliance. None of them are mere ordinary mortals, their body resolved to be superior in every way to the common fae.

Vastators are untouched by the blight of plague or diseases - their bodies able to adapt to the most virulent of pathogens. They are clad in impenetrable armour and armed with mighty weapons. With power, skill and strength they possess, the Vastators are generally likened to a walking light tank (or a smaller mech-biped).

The Vastator Legions are each trained thoroughly, a regulatory drilling that can last from a decade or two. In those times their bodies are supplied with numerous heavy augmentations to surpass their prior biological limitations. The psycho-conditioning required for them to reach to such superelven level demands that they are of the strongest will and mind, having the mental and physical fortitude beyond that of common men.

These super warriors are each segregated to their own companies known as Sectum; each of them an autonomous military unit that specialises upon different tactics and purposes, all of them to be an elite force that serves the Alliance.

There are a wide variety of methods to recruit a Vastator, and each recruitment varies depending upon the practice and customs of each Sectum.

=Bastion Power Armour=

The Bastion Armour is the standard power armour adorned by the Vastator Legions, as they protect the elite supersoldiers from the near limitless threat the galaxy has to offer. The standard design of the armour is shared amongst all Vastators but there exists several variants, each made to emphasise on the different specifications that every armour possesses.

The Bastion Armour are often made from metal alloy mixed with carapace underlayer and are supported by polymeric filaments of mechabundles encompassing the majority of its system, acting as a secondary muscle to the armour so that it can assist its wearer for ease of mobility and provide increased strength, speed, agility, endurance and durability.

Furthermore, the suit is provided with myriads of high-grade life support systems that constantly monitors its wearer's condition and reacts accordingly to preserve their wellbeing when faced with a life-threatening situation. The suit is also supported by myriads of tactical systems, threat analysis and built-in techvoyant device. In addition to that, are its precise targeting system and advanced spiritual intelligence that helps a Vastator Agent to perform near impossible feats with ease.

The armour's outer layer is made of ablative plates of tertiary-class adamantine over a layer of polymedium-orichalcum alloy. Underneath the armouring plates are geometric mithril circuits, all of which had been grafted with protective enchantments that not only sustain the durability of the suit but also erect a constant micro-photonic field at the surface of the power armour. The suit is held together by a fibrous mass of mechabundle; a series of mechanised, nano-constructed cables, each of which acts as an additional pseudo-musculoskeletal system.

The Bastion Armour has a range of auxiliary features that increases the effectiveness of a Vastator Operative, providing them limitless sensor array, advanced thought-linked auto systems, perception filters and numerous other miscellaneous interfaces. It is also supported by swarms of self-replicating micromachines that can partially mend damaged parts similarly to cellular tissues. Additionally, the suit can also activate Tier-6 regeneration and strengthening spells directly into the wearer's bodily systems during combat-stress situations.

The armour is an enclosed environmental harness, equipped with its own fully integrated, self-sufficient techno-sorcery that keeps the wearer completely separated from the external environment. It has its own contained atmospheric regulator, a waste recycler and a nutrient generator - all of which are a combination of various alchemical processes that transmute useless waste into essential biological resources. The armour itself is powered by an arcane fusion reactor and a secondary power pack all placed in the torso and neck area.

=Pattern Type=

The Bastion Armour has a myriad of sub-variants, each designs were made for different purposes with varying techno-sorceries. Many of the Bastion Armour has a distinct plain appearance, with plates of armour placed delicately across the body, taking a semblance of a segmented carapace akin to the exoskeleton of an insectoid. Most of the armours have a featureless oval-shaped helm with a pair of horizontal glassinite slit in front the eyes, a wide neck guard that covers most of the nape and also usually are equipped with a pair of large pauldrons.

Ferociter-Pattern: It is the standard pattern Bastion Armour made to be sleek yet bulky all the same. It has a lean shape to its frame with the torso portion segregated into three armour plates; the thorax, the upper abdomen and lower abdomen. The Ferociter-Pattern Armour is made for versatility in mind, with most of its strength focused upon its mystical sensory array and its integrated techvoyant systems.

Atrociter-Pattern: It is a larger set of Bastion Armour with an extra layer of protection both physical and mystical. The Atrociter-Pattern Armour has a greater amount of mechabundle and servo-tendrils in its joints to provide it with increased strength and durability.

Celeriter-Pattern: It is a smaller variant of Bastion Armour with enhanced speed, agility and integrated camotech system. The Celeriter-Pattern Armour is made for smaller Vastator Agents.

Incantationem-Pattern: It is an armour pattern design specifically made for sorcerers. The Incantationem has an integrated arcanite generator and intricate mystical runes designed to channel vitas more efficiently.

=Sectum=

A Sectum is an autonomous military unit made up of several companies of Vastator Legion and their related vehicles, starships and support personnel. Each Sectum serves collectively under the Enforcer, directly by the command of the Hierarchs and a few prestigious Authorium Senators.

Each Sectum is an autonomous power, entirely separated from the rest of the Armed Enforcer, with authority second only to the Astral Sentrian and the Hierarchs.

Most Sectum operate independently from each other, although cooperation is not uncommon amongst them. Every Sectum segment is trained to specialise on different goals and tasks in mind.

The Vastator Legion is an organisation founded directly by the Hierarchs and their subsequent Sectum, each created by the cooperative planning of the Authorium Senate and the Sectoral Administrators. Each Sectum claims title over a planet or star system where they produce or recruit new Vastator Operatives.

All of the Vastator Legion Sectum are dictated by a comprehensive manuscript known as the Hierarchic Parchment, a piece of holograph that lists the proper organisational structure and method to handle and manage a Sectum.

The founding of a new Sectum can only occur by the executive agreement of more than 90% of the Senate and approved by the Hierarchs. There are however, several instances of Vastator regiment not directly established by the Authorium Senate, created by a local planetary or astronomic governor yet approved by the Hierarchs regardless - these types of Vastator Sectum are known as the Auxilla Vastasect.

Every Vastator Operatives, whether they be recruited or vat-grown, are each given the highest quality of bio and cyber augmentation. Each Sectum shares a similar template gene-mod structure yet grants each a specific alteration and modification that differs dependent upon the individual Sectum. Such augmentation also varies depending upon the myriad species of Vastator recruit and their varying physiology.

The process of biological modification could reach up to four to six years, with some augments surgically implanted within the body and others artificially grown over time. Although rare, there are instances of rejection from the body in the presence of new organic augmentations and could sometimes lead to death.

Amongst the hundreds and possibly thousands of Vastator Sectum to exist in the galaxy, only six of which are widely known.

[Black Claw]

A stealth oriented Vastator and master of guerrilla warfare, also specialises in mystical suppression. They are generally, physically smaller than most Vastator members and are the only Sectum that recruits void-wielders. The Black Claw is specifically recognised for their black armour and the insignia of three scratch marks.

[Armoured Spear]

The shock assault troop, mainly act as a spearhead formation during an incursion. They are mostly provided with a heavy amount of assault vehicles and myriads of assigned auxiliary engines. The Armoured Spear are most recognised for the light grey and streak of red on their armour along with an insignia of a red spear on their pauldron.

[Dread Walker]

The expert of defensive and siege warfare, they are most effective at constructing fortifications and defensive positions. The Dread Walker are also amongst the most heavily armoured of them all, costing them speed and agility. The Dread Walker are mostly clad in dark orange and adorned with black stripes. Their armour is also more angular than most.

[Mighty Hand]

The master tacticians and strategists, deploying whatever units are best suited for the task at hand, and adapting to their enemy to better defeat them. They are one of the more ubiquitous of all Vastator and one that are widely available across the galactic front. The Mighty Hand are most acknowledged by their distinctive silvery white and glistening gold of their carapace outer layer.

[Mist Guard]

A versatile Vastator Sectum that specialises in mechanical and chemical warfare. They are the master of machinery and one of the most heavily augmented with cybernetic implants. The Mist Guard are recognised for their dark emerald hue and the circular rune of their insignia.

[Red Halberd]

An expert of extradimensional and incorporeal threat, a Sectum with the highest recruit of espers and sorcerers. Due to the nature of their legion, the Red Halberd have great access to a large supply of mystical artefacts specifically made to deal with supernatural entities. They are all clad in a crimson armour with a distinct insignia of a halberd.

=Organisation=

Each Vastator Legion Sectum is led by a Sect Master which is then followed by the commands of their respective Corps Captain. All of them are at least a ten year veteran in warfare and service combat.

Each Sectum regiments are further segmented into ten different 'Contingent', with each subsection of contingents led by the Corps Captain and all of them, under the command of their Sect Master.

Besides the standard battle-active personnel, there exist several non-combatant within their legions. They are often responsible for maintaining the logistics, maintenance and status of the Sectum, being a vital asset for their legion. These roles include liegemen, logisticatus, soothsayers and star-charters.

=Personnel Scripture=

Each segment of assigned Sectum had their own command structure and staff hierarchy, consisting of several ranks such as;

Sect Master: The overseer and overall representative authority of an entire Sectum.

Corps Captain: The commanding unit of its own Sectum Contingent.

Autoflector: A master engineer and technician.

Theurgic Harbinger: A specialist combat sorcerer.

Ardent Warsight: A veteran officer that had at least served for half a century.

Crest Warsight: An intermediate officer that had at least served for more than a decade.

Flect Warsight: A junior officer, yet far from being inexperienced.

Fragmatus Novasight: A novice recruit that had yet to receive a complete augment-transference.

Excessit: An assigned rank for the mortally wounded yet still combat capable officer that had been heavily and cybernetically modified, surpassing normal Vastator Agent.