Chapter II – Combined Arms
"Great is the guilt of an unnecessary war." – John Adams
LOCATION: ALNUS HILL – SADERAN EMPIRE
DATE: ARBETI 13, 687
TIME: 09:32:01
*1 HOURS BEFORE INVASION*
Count Colt Fortunato Umbrius Formal, the ruler of a small yet crucial piece of land in the Saderan Empire, had many regrets in his life and this was one of them. As he stood in his tent together with his most trusted lieutenants, he could see the same sentiment in their eyes – all of them did not want to be part of this foolish campaign. Just outside, they could hear officers giving out marching orders and soldiers bustling about to get everything ready for the push beyond the Gate at the Holy Hill of Alnus.
Letting out a tired sigh, Count Formal briefly thought of the events that led up to this point. Several months ago, mages from Rondel reported of unusual activity coming from Alnus Hill. After conducting preliminary tests and studies, they determined that another Gate would soon open – the first one in centuries. All across the Saderan Empire, the news was met with general acceptance with most viewing this as another blessing from the Gods. Festivals were held, days of prayer and tribute were presented to the Holy Temples, and Apostles came to give guidance and sermons about the coming days.
The Count would admit that he also held a small festival in honor of this momentous event.
Of course, as with all world-shaking events, there were some who would see it as an opportunity to increase their own power and dominion. Count Formal could only speculate in silence but he had a feeling that Emperor Molt Sol Augustus saw this as an opportunity to not only expand his power, but also secure an Imperial colony from beyond the Gate. A feat – if accomplished – would propel his name into near mythical status and open the door for the Empire to expand further.
Through political guile and promises of glory and riches, Emperor Molt managed to convince the Senate to send 7 Imperial Legions – numbering over 40,000 soldiers – under the command of Imperial Legates Manius Ferius Lacanus and Tertius Sennius Siricus to secure a foothold and if necessary, conquer whatever civilization that lay beyond.
It was an ambitious undertaking, Count Formal would agree, but also a very dangerous one. For one, no one had ever attempted to launch an invasion through the Gate. There were many variables and risks involved. The air could be toxic, diseases maybe rampant, the ground may even be made of fire for all they know. However, none could compare to the possibility that this act could be seen as an insult to the Gods by misusing their blessings and incur their terrible wrath. The Gods have lashed out before for far lesser reasons.
For another, what if they did encounter another civilization? Of course, there is a possibility that they'd be inferior so the Saderan Empire could conquer them but there was also the likelihood that they incomprehensibly more powerful than even the Empire itself…and wouldn't take kindly of being invaded and enslaved.
Even if he wasn't a seasoned military commander, it only took a little common sense to realize that this was a very bad idea.
There were many other reasons on why this campaign was foolish but Count Formal knew that almost none would listen to reason. Why would they? In Falmart, the Saderan Empire had no equal. It was the single most powerful entity of the known world; forged in the fires of war thousands of years ago and managed to conquer almost an entire continent. In the general belief of its citizens, no one and nothing could pose a threat to her save for the Apostles, the Gods, and the few remaining Elder Dragons.
To most, it was the truth. To the Count, he saw it as arrogance of the highest degree. Arrogance that came from complacency. The Empire may have very little to fear here but beyond the Gate…it was a whole different story.
"Milord, it is nearly time." Lorenz Du Koehne, one of Count Formal's primary Lieutenants and a good friend, said. "The order must be given lest Imperial Legate Siricus grows impatient."
"I know." Count Formal gave a dejected sigh. "Give the order for our forces to move into formation. Upon Siricus' order, we will support his vanguard force in securing a foothold beyond the Gate. Have them form up at the left flank." He gave the official orders to his officers.
"It will be done, Milord." Lorenz said with the others nodding.
Count Formal nodded. "Very well. You are all dismissed. I will join you momentarily." With his word, his officers began filing out of his tent until only he remained.
Once he was alone, Count Formal lowered his head in shame. As previously established, he did not want this. He didn't want to go on a foolish and deadly crusade; he merely wanted to stay with his daughters, take care of his people and lands, and perhaps meet his first grandchild by his oldest, Elle. The thought of his daughters brought a tender smile to his face. The Gods know that he would give anything to get him and his men out of here but it was not to be.
When the Emperor announced his intention to expand the Empire beyond the Gate, the young nobles began joining in droves. Only a few wanted to stay behind which included the Count. After all, he only possessed a meager force of 5,000 guards and they haven't even seen real combat; the usual city crime and occasional bandit raid but nothing like a real war. However, it wasn't meant to be as the Emperor himself had issued orders for the nobility to lend their support and join.
Count Formal did commit some supporting elements and resources to the cause. He hoped that since he was just a Count with meager army, he wouldn't be chosen to go along with the expedition but it wasn't meant to be judging from his current predicament.
In all honesty, he thought this was some kind of ploy to neutralize him since Count Formal was a known friend and supporter of the scattered demi human races and the Vassal Kingdoms. He had his suspicions but the Count could never prove it to be so.
That was 3 weeks ago and the decision weighed heavily on his heart still. He could still see the heartbreak in his Myui's eyes when he told her that he was going away for a while. Speaking of his daughters, just yesterday he had received letters informing him that Elle and Loui, including their husbands and a small security detail had arrived at Italica and were doing all they can to comfort the distraught girl. He had also sent a secret message to his old friend, King Eckhart Brauer Duran of Elbe, requesting that should anything happen to him that he would take care of his daughters and people.
By right, Myui was his heir and will soon take the mantle of Countess but she was just a child. So, he named his house's head maid, Kaine, to act as her regent and guardian until his daughter came of age. He hoped it wouldn't come to that but one never knows what fate had in store.
When organizing the force to take with him, he understood that he couldn't take all of his army; that would leave his home and family defenseless. He was eternally grateful to King Duran when he received a reply that he would send all the help he could once he heard of trouble but it'll take him weeks to reach Italica and Count Formal didn't trust the Imperial Army to assist when requested. So, he only took a token force of 650 men with him to the campaign; it was a relatively small force compared to the others who brought thousands of their own men but very few raised controversies over it.
After all, his family was always considered as weak from a military standpoint.
A small consolation to this otherwise abysmal situation is that Count Formal managed to convince the two Imperial Legates leading this military expedition that he and his men be relegated to support roles citing that with his men's small numbers and inexperience in warfare, they'd be more useful in areas such as manning trebuchets, act as advanced scouts, guarding prisoners ect. The Count's experience in supply management and logistical principles, not warfare.
While this earned him some mocking sneers and whispers of being a coward, the Legates saw logic in his argument and granted him his request but they still demanded that a fraction of his soldiers join the front lines. While it was not ideal, Count Formal graciously took it nonetheless. He didn't care that he was humiliated but he wanted to bring his men back home to their families safe – ideally all of them but he knew that wasn't going to happen.
Knowing that his presence will be needed among the Legates, Count Formal took hold of his helm and made his way out of his tent. Even if he is not well liked by the nobles, he still held an important enough rank that his voice carried weight in the decision-making process.
Outside his tent, the sun shone brightly upon him as he observed his surroundings. Just 3 miles North East of the Hill was the massive Imperial Army encampment. Thousands of Saderan soldiers were scurrying about; checking their equipment and finishing their immediate business in preparation for their own push into the Gate after the vanguard force secured safe passage through. Count Formal could hear dozens of men talking about the plunder, riches, slaves, and glory they'd bring back home but he just stayed silent as he mounted his horse on the way to join Imperial Legate Siricus and his invasion force of 2 Legions – over 10,000 strong which included the nobility's forces, Saderan units, and beast-men auxiliaries.
Upon completion of their objectives, a messenger would alert Imperial Legate Lacanus and he will bring forth the rest of the invasion force.
Count Formal had hoped that his force could stay back but he had already pushed his luck farther than needed and he needed to show strength lest the noble vultures get any bright ideas. Soon, he met up with his own men who greeted him with respect to which he returned in full. However, that also meant he was with the other arrogant nobles and the even more arrogant and glory-seeking Imperial Legate Siricus.
"Ah, nice of you to finally join us, Count Formal." Marquis Ymber Zu Calasta greeted on horseback with a mocking undertone. "We are about to take part in one of the most glorious events in the history of the Empire, Milord. Does this not excite you?" He asked with other nobles roaring in agreement.
Count Formal kept his visage neutral but internally, he was glaring at this young man. He knew of him as he was once a member of the Order of the Rose; an organization created and led by Princess Piña Co Lada herself, 5th child of the Emperor, and a former student of his. He knew the princess from when she was just a young girl – headstrong, determined yet wise, and compassionate. It was an honor to have been one of her teachers and she had even befriended his daughters; sometimes pleading with them to play knights when they were but children.
The members of the Order of the Rose were primarily young noble girls that were inspired by the Princess but there were male members as well. Most of them were fine examples of what it meant to be a knight but the Marquis before him was not. In one of the letters sent to him by Princess Piña, she explained that Calasta was one of the most pathetic recruits she had ever taken in with little to no aptitude for military tactics, swordplay, and etiquette. The final straw was when she and a couple of her closest knights stumbled upon Calasta and another male member, Herm Fule Maio, crimes of extortion, blackmail, intimidation, and a slew of other dishonorable crimes. Needless to say, they were punished accordingly and were personally banished from the Order by the Princess.
It should've meant great shame to their names but thanks to having friends in high places and a little bit of gold, their records were kept clean even with the testimony of an Imperial Princess.
This man disgusted Count Formal but he did not say it outright; he spared him only a sideways glance and nothing more. He didn't want to be baited into a useless debate on the merits of this invasion; there was no use in convincing the stupid. After all, he had already voiced his concerns numerous times and all he got was ridicule and humiliation.
Calasta's smile grew larger at Count Formal's silence. "Do not be so contemptuous, my friend. You should be grateful that you were invited to take part in this expedition. When we return home, we will return as conquering heroes beloved and respected by all! Aye?!"
The other nobles, Saderan officers, and most of the soldiers all voiced their agreement with thunderous glee. Only Count Formal and his men remained silent. They saw no reason to be happy about this when they were essentially forced to go lest they endure harsh consequences. Knowing the Emperor, he could spin this around to paint Clan Formal as traitors; citing their refusal to answer his call as a declaration of secession from the Empire.
The Gods know that has happened before.
Time ticks by with Count Formal and his men enduring words of veiled ridicule and insults. It got to the point where fights almost broke out among the ranks; fortunately, Lorenz and his fellow officers managed to stop all incidents before things escalated out of control. Of course, the Count requested that the other nobles and Saderan officers to control their own men but all he got was half hearted promises that he knew they'd never keep.
It was almost time to commence offensive operations but before that, Imperial Legate Siricus urged his horse atop the Hill just at the mouth of the Gate before facing his assembled forces – a speech was in order. "Courageous men of the great Saderan Empire! You have been selected because you are the best fighting force the Empire has ever produced! The Gods have blessed us this glorious day! Never before in our history has an opportunity like this presented itself. Once we cross the Holy Gate, we will discover a new land for us to shine our light and guidance! By the grace of the Emperor, we will bring order to a land wrought with chaos!" With his every word, Legate Siricus could feel the energy of his men so he pressed on for one last push. "This day, within your grasp, do you know what lays before you?! Glory! Immortality! It is ours! For the Empire!"
"FOR THE EMPIRE!"
Thoroughly satisfied that his Legions were fired up and ready to wage war, Legate Siricus could already taste the victory that he was destined to have. Of course, he had to pull a few strings and call in a few favors in the Sadera to secure this position but all that he has sacrifice will be worth it in the end. Imperial Legate Tertius Sennius Siricus, immortalized as the one who led the first Saderan units to victory in a new world – the mere thought sent him to a state of euphoria.
Mere moments after the Legates' speech, war horns were sounded – the time has come at last. The marching orders were given and the Saderans were diving head long into the Gate. Count Formal looked at Lorenz who shared his grim sentiments but both knew that they had no other choice but to follow.
However, absolutely none of them could expect the wonders they were going to see…and the hell they would suffer through.
LOCATION: MANHATTAN – NEW YORK, USA
DATE: MAY 11, 2035
TIME: 10:49:30
If he was honest with himself, 2LT Eric Wilson, a Green Beret, did not expect his most recent visit to New York to turn out like this. Scratched up and ducking behind an abandoned car in the corner of W 55th Street and 6th Ave together with the battered NYPD fighting an enemy he thought he'd never see in his life. In his hands was an M4A1 acquired from a SWAT officer and he laid down fire to cover another retreat; taking down several Roman-wannabes and gross pig-mutant things. It was like an endless wave of these fuckers and even if the police were armed with automatic weapons, it was a losing fight – the numbers were just too much. Not to mention the literal dragons swooping in and harassing their positions.
The otaku side of 2LT Wilson was jumping in joy because this was just like a classic premise for an isekai story but that side was furiously drowned out by the incredibly pissed off New Jerseysan in him since it was clear that this was another bonafide attempt to invade US soil and they were slaughtering everyone in sight. He didn't know where they came from but he gave no fucks about that.
As a soldier of the United States, it was his sworn duty to defend his home and from what he'd seen in those video streams…these bastards deserve nothing short of hell.
Before this all started, 2LT Wilson had just arrived 2 days ago from his current post in Japan to visit his adopted parents in Jersey City, New Jersey along with other family members. He hasn't seen them in person for a little over a year and he was looking forward to a reunion and some downtime from all that military work. Today, he was actually going to meet up with his folks at an Italian restaurant called Pazza Notte to celebrate his return when everything turned to shit real fast.
While sitting outside with his folks and a few other family members, they were just about to begin eating when something flew overhead of them with an ear-splitting screech. 2LT Wilson and pretty much everyone in the streets all looked at the source of the commotion and they couldn't believe their eyes. It was an honest-to-God dragon with some armored dude riding it.
At first, 2LT Wilson and everyone with him were caught in a state of wonderment – after all, it was not everyday you could see a dragon. Then, he snapped out of his stupor when he realized that the thing was dive bombing right at them and the civvies, having realized the imminent danger – started running and screaming in all directions to avoid the on coming mythical creature.
Not even missing a beat, 2LT Wilson took out his concealed MP40 pistol and fired upon the hostile creature and its rider. To his horror, the .40 caliber rounds just bounced off the dragon's hide but he did manage to land an extremely lucky shot at the rider; forcing them to abandon their attack and go back to wherever they came from.
Wasting no time, 2LT Wilson threw the keys of his rented car to his father and all but ordered them to get out of Manhattan which they reluctantly followed. With his family getting the hell out of dodge, 2LT Wilson took out his phone to call the NYPD but before he could, his phone was flooded with news and stream notifications about the US being invaded by fantasy creatures with the NYPD was being sent in to contain the situation, and the Governor of New York calling in the National Guard and every available military unit for help.
With the word out, 2LT Wilson decided to help the NYPD in defending Manhattan. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his vacation but he had no choice in the matter. Worse still, his own family was almost caught in the cross fire so it was damn personal. He met up with some NYPD units on the way to the Southern perimeter and after identifying himself and his intentions, joined them in defending New York.
That was about 20 minutes ago and the situation was growing more desperate with each passing second and they were pushed back to the Columbia Medical Center on 6th and 52nd. Whatever happened, 2LT Wilson and the NYPD would not let this hospital fall or die trying.
"It's too much, man! We can't hold them off much longer!" A cop shouted desperately from their defensive positions near the hospital's north end. "There's just too many of them!"
"These sick fucks are NOT getting into this hospital! Keep firing!" 2LT Wilson shouted back but he too was feeling the desperation. In the beginning, they were over two dozen cops holding the tide but their numbers dwindled down to a mere 10. The Green Beret immediately took charge and directed the survivors to make a last stand at Columbia Medical Center to protect the medical staff and the patients there. In doing so, the rag tag team had been cut off from the Southern defensive line.
2LT Wilson was dangerously low on ammo and the Southern perimeter was close to being broken by the sheer weight of these fuckers and from what they were hearing from radio traffic, it wasn't looking good for the other defending elements either.
Just a few minutes ago, they got word that the Argentinian and Russian Consulates were being overrun and that the various hospitals around South Central Park were dangerously close to being breached. 2LT Wilson feared the worst because some of those hospitals were dangerously close to the reported ground zero. He prayed to God that these bastards haven't punched through yet and started killing everyone in those facilities. NYPD air support couldn't help because of all those fucking dragons and what officers left on the ground were close to breaking.
2LT Wilson knew they wouldn't last another minute and he was scared out of his mind of dying but he used that fear as motivation to keep on fighting – harder and more ferocious than ever.
"Shit, incoming!" A cop pointed up at the sky and they defenders saw 5 dragons diving towards their position; teeth, claws, and lances to bear.
"Three guys! Divert fire on those fucking things now!" 2LT Wilson ordered as he and 3 cops raised their weapons to meet the oncoming aerial threat while the rest held off the threats on the ground. They unleashed an avalanche of bullets on the dragons but they failed to bring down even one because they had expended all of their ammunition.
2LT Wilson's heart was pounding in fear as he still held down the trigger in vain hope that there was still a round in the chamber – all he could hear were clicks. His eyes shook with terror as the dragons drew near and he thought that this was going to be the end with him becoming dragon food when salvation came. Before the dragons could reach their position and tear them apart, a hail of hot lead rained down on flying bastards
Swarming the skies were hundreds of AQ-27 Dragonfire quadrotor drones focused their fire on the dragons and on the ground, the familiar roar of M2 Browning machine guns and other heavy arms fire erupted from the rear and began ripping the enemy ground formations to shreds. Peering to the rear, 2LT Wilson and the cops rejoiced when they saw a fully armed military convoy coming their way.
The Dragonfire drones were keeping the dragons occupied but their firepower wasn't enough to pierce the seemingly impenetrable scales of those creatures. That is, until even bigger ordnance joined the battle in the form of a barrage of missile and autocannon fire from a flight of AH-1Z Vipers escorting scores of friendly V-22 Ospreys. The dragons were swiftly reduced to mist and what's left of the hostile ground forces were routed back towards Central Park as the convoy and birds drew near to the remaining NYPD personnel and the Green Beret.
Upon reaching their position, some of the surviving cops gave the National Guardsmen and Marines grateful hugs as they wept in stress and joy; an understandable reaction as they were forced to do and witnessed some gruesome shit in this whole ordeal. For the Green Beret, he kept his composure but he had a massive smile on his bloodied face as he jogged to the lead victor. While relieved that reinforcements had finally arrived, they weren't out of the shit just yet. He needed to regain his bearings and get a new kit so he can rejoin the fight.
LOCATION: SHEEP MEADOW – NEW YORK CITY, USA
DATE: MAY 11, 2035
TIME: 10:12:33
The moment Count Colt Formal saw what was on the other side of the Gate, he and almost all of the men were astounded at the sight. They expected to breakthrough to vast grassland, hilly terrain, or even a desolate wasteland. Imagine their surprise to find that they were transported to a place where there were people and surrounded by rectangular mountains.
Of course, the wonder the immediately broken when Legate Lacanus ordered the charge. He was leading the vanguard while Legate Siricus managed the main body.
Count Formal had to look away from the carnage as he directed his men to set up the trebuchets, tents, supply caravans, the disposal of the slain locals etc. He was never a warrior but he was an organized logistician.
It weighed on his heart that he and his men were being forced to partake in this so-called expedition bit there was nothing he could do work in silence. He regretfully directed the men to dump the bodies to a large funeral pyre.
Count Formal let out a mournful breath as he prayed for the souls of the slain and forgiveness for himself and his men.
He never believed in senseless violence and intimidation as the answer for most problems. He believed diplomacy and alliances, not…this savage display the Saderan Empire so clearly favored.
The Count looked away in pain as the mutilated bodies of hundreds of men, women, and children were rounded up and dumped to the growing fire. Some of the bodies were given to the goblins and beast men to feed on. Count Formal could do nothing but pray for their souls to find peace with their Gods…and for forgiveness.
With his very being, he hoped that some managed to escape this carnage. As they rear echelon units were busy setting up their base of operations and clearing the field of the dead, some soldiers were rounding up dozens of the local populace who survived the onslaught and throwing them to the cages.
Count Formal winced for those people were better off dead than the hell that awaited them – especially the women and girls. Just then, Legate Siricus together with his personal guards came prancing to the captured people and sneered at them.
"All of you worthless savages, listen well! We, the Saderan Empire in the name of his Imperial Majesty Molt Sol Augustus, declare the conquest and dominion of all these lands! Be grateful for we bring you order and prosperity! Any resistance to our righteous conquest will be crushed swiftly! Submit before our grandeur and rejoice!" After his bold declaration, he ordered some soldiers to start preparation to transport them back through the Gate.
He smiled in satisfaction before he noticed that Count Formal was still standing at where he was. "Count Formal, what are you doing? Why are you not participating in subjugating these worthless dogs?"
Count Formal frowned. "Savages? Worthless dogs? Legate Siricus, look around you. These structures easily dwarf anything the capital has. Dare I say, they could've become a powerful ally."
The Legate scoffed. "These pathetic display means nothing to the beauty of great Sadera. Still, these structures are impressive in their own right and your words have merit to them. We shall see what happens when their leaders accept their place under our rule."
"Perhaps, My Lord Legate." Count Formal said neutrally, knowing that it was useless in trying to speak sense to the Imperial Legate before him. "The trebuchets are almost ready for deployment, Milord. We only require a few minutes."
"Excellent, Count." Legate Siricus grinned. "You and your ilk are proving to be quite useful even though you have shown weakness." He smirked as the Count clenched his fists in anger. "Once they are ready, commence bombardment on the nearest structures. Let them fall as a testament to our might."
"…As you wish, Legate Siricus." Count Formal bowed his head to hide his indignity and anger.
Legate Siricus chuckled as he moved towards the grandiose command tent.
Once the Legate was gone, Count Formal let out a silent growl in frustration before resuming his duties. How could he face his daughters and people after what he was forced to do here? May the Gods have mercy on him.
Soon enough, the trebuchets were operational and began bombarding the tall structures and the surrounding area. As the day wore on, more and more of the Expeditionary Force poured through the Gate and began assembling in the cleared out fields for further instructions.
Leaving Lorenz Du Koehne to handle the rest here, Count Formal entered the command tent as his presence was needed since he was still part of the command structure. Upon entering, he was greeted with a cacophony of other officers and messengers lazily milling about their duties. They were acting like victory was almost assured.
"Truly? Legate Lacanus has encountered nothing but battle mages?" Legate Siricus asked in interest.
"Yes, my lord." A Saderan nobleman reported. "All across the front, runners have reported that our soldiers have encountered fierce resistance from these battle mages. They fight with tremendous ferocity and we have suffered substantial losses, but the sheer weight of our forces drive them back. Still, for a bunch of uneducated savages to be able field these many battle mages at such short notice and cause significant damage is commendable." The other nobles and officers agreed with his assessment.
"Very interesting." Legate Siricus hummed with an ambitious smile on his face. "If we can manage to replicate their success with magic, we'd be able to field more battle mages that Rondel can provide. Which means prestige and glory to us all." The others agreed with his assessment and were starting to talk about all of the riches and influence they would acquire. "Once we have secured this settlement, we will begin subjugating these people to our rule and obtain their secrets. Their worth just went up. Luck them. What of those we have captured?"
"The first batches have been transported to the Gate as we speak with many more being taken captive from the front lines. As of now, we have over 50 slaves heading through." Herm Fule Maio supplied. "I must say, they are very diverse in appearance and shapes – especially the women. They'll make good whores and breeding stock." The other agreed with lecherous thoughts.
Count Formal remained silent as he waited for the murmuring to stop before beginning his own report. "The trebuchets are working tirelessly to destroy the structures and pushing the enemy back. A good percentage of the Legions have made it through the Gate – latest count is around 10,000 – and are awaiting your orders. Our supplies are organized and guarded, and I've tasked some scouts to scour the countryside to hunt for game. Coincidentally, they have reported a large facility filled to the brim with caged animals not far from here. They have already brought back some to be butchered for rationing."
"Excellent." Legate Siricus smiled as things were going oh so smoothly. "I believe it is time to unleash our full might upon them. Deploy the rest of the Legions and Wyvern riders to weed out the rest of the enemy. The faster we conquer these lands, the faster we can go home and enjoy the spoils of conquest."
As they celebrated their supposed triumph, Count Formal excused himself from the command tent to attend to his duties. He let out a frustrated breath at this whole thing but he resigned himself to his work. Walking towards his work area, he passed by formations of soldiers and demi human auxiliaries being organized by their officers, dozens of Wyvern riders getting their steads ready for another attack on the front lines, and hundreds of workers scurrying about with whatever task that was assigned to them.
Count Formal just wanted this whole affair over and done with so he and his men can go home. Just then, above all the noise of the Saderan camp, the Count heard something that made him stop and look around in confusion.
Were those buzzing sounds?
Soon enough, the noise began to grow louder and almost everyone took notice of it, and were looking for the source. Just then, the sky began to darken all around the camp and Count Formal looked up at the sky. What he saw absolutely floored him as a massive cloud of large red eyed insects were heading straight for them. Before anyone could do anything, all hell broke loose as thunder and death rained from the sky.
Approximately 10 miles off the coast of Manhattan, the USS Enterprise was stationed along with her support ships. The deck of the massive carrier was abuzz with activity as sailors and naval aviators scrambled to launch a squadron of F-35s loaded for bare to assist in retaking Manhattan. They had already launched their own drone swarm programmed to ravage the enemy's main camp.
A few miles to the Enterprise's South, the USS Fallujah, an America-class assault ship, had just launched 7 MV-22B transports filled with Marines, and 7 AH-1Z Vipers. The Marines' mission were to secure the medical and consulate facilities that ground forces have yet to reach. US forces were now executing a combined arms assault on hostile formations with allied air power hammering them from all sides.
By order of the President, the 2 strike groups were ordered to steam towards Manhattan and deploy everything they in response to the Black Star Alert.
In the command center of the USS Enterprise, RADM Annette C. Foreman stood with a grave expression on her face. She was the commander of Carrier Strike Group 2 and given command of the Amphibious Strike Group per the instructions of 2nd Fleet Headquarters. Right now, she was overseeing the progress of her forces as they made landfall to their designated objectives.
She was in contact with the National Guard, and the USS Da Nang to coordinate their forces neutralize the hostiles, and rescue any and all survivors. Just a few minutes ago, ground forces have successfully encircled the invaders and have begun forcing them back; their overwhelming numbers rendered useless against awesome firepower and heavy ordnance.
She trusted the Marines to handle their objectives just fine; her main priority was the enemy main camp and what they all saw infuriated them. There was a massive build up of enemy troops coming out of a strange structure that led to seemingly nowhere and that alone caused great concern but the moment sailors saw what had become of the people of Sheep Meadow, all sense of worry went right out the window. From the overhead drone orbiting the entire battlefield, they could see the slaughtered bodies of men, women, and children being thrown into giant fire pits while captured civilians were being forced into cages.
It was unacceptable and RADM Foreman couldn't risk not acting. If the enemy brought those many people back to wherever the hell they came from, they'd be lost. With that in mind, she immediately gave the order for their ground forces to haul ass to Sheep Meadow while her carrier's entire drone swarm, a flight of Vipers and UH-1Y Venom gunships to hit the enemy camp hard. The drone swarm would form a protective perimeter around the captive civilians while the gunships went to town exterminating these rabid animals.
LOCATION: 6TH AVENUE – NEW YORK CITY, USA
DATE: MAY 11, 2035
TIME: 11:08:53
Advancing North on the 6th Avenue road together with an armored convoy of Marines and National Guard units, 2LT Wilson in full battle kit kept up the fire as they mowed down anyone and anything that showed themselves as hostiles. Having been temporarily attached to the squad Bravo 2-3 of B Company, 44th Infantry BCT of the New Jersey National Guard, the Green Beret was manning an M240 machine gun and was chewing up the retreating Roman wannabes.
They tried sacrificing their monsters, taking cover behind their shields, and tried numerous times to mount a counterattack but it was all for nothing. All across the front, the combined might of US formations and air power were smashing everything the invaders could throw at them. Some hostiles were even run over by the advancing IFVs but the Guardsmen and Marines didn't care in the slightest.
They couldn't afford to stop now since they just got word that a large number of civilians had been taken hostage and were being transported out. Thankfully, the drone swarms and gunships were pining the hostile camp down but the ground forces needed to haul ass. Due to the urgency of their task, the convoy had no choice but to bypass building that were still infested with enemy elements but luckily, the US Army and the Canadians – acting under the Joint Atlantic Defensive Pact – have entered the fray and were mopping and clearing up what's stragglers.
2LT Wilson continued firing in controlled bursts, literally splitting a man in two. "Keep up the pressure, boys!" He shouted out to his comrades just as the Bradleys opened up again with a devastating barrage of cannon fire that tore up the clearly panicking hostiles. It wasn't a retreat anymore but a chaotic rout.
"Bravo 6, this is Bravo 2-6. We are in visual range of South Central Park. Interrogative: what is the status of the enemy camp. Over." 1LT Blake W. Harrison reported to his company commander as his platoon neared the edge of Central Park. The enemy had long since turned tail and run into Central Park but they'd soon find out that there was no escape. The other convoys have also reported to have reached the perimeter of the lark and were awaiting orders to storm it.
"Bravo 6 copies, 2-6. The drone swarm and gunships got the enemy camp by the nuts. We have them completely encircled. Push forward to Sheep Meadow with the other units and secure the area. Over."
"Roger that. Bravo 2-6, out. All right, men, push on to Sheep Meadow!" With his orders, the convoys all converged into the Park; killing anything that dared to get in their way.
LOCATION: SHEEP MEADOW – NEW YORK CITY, USA
DATE: MAY 11, 2035
TIME: 11:17:22
Count Formal had absolutely no idea what had happened as he took cover behind a burning cart. He was wounded and bleeding from having been struck by some kind of thunder magic from the shoulder and leg. It all happened so fast…the first thing he remembered was seeing a black could of red eyed demons before they began spewing their foul magic upon them.
He could only watch in horror as dozens of troops and demi humans were torn apart by invisible blades. Not even the shields proved useful protection against them. Some had tried firing arrows at the monstrous insects but they never got the chance as they were shredded to pieces. It was at this time that Legate Siricus and the other nobleman and officers came outside in a panic; most of them were cut down as well with very few surviving.
Only the Wyverns could survive the onslaught – their riders lay dead on the ground – as they took to the skies and began frantically fighting the flying beasts. The Wyverns managed to kill dozens of those monsters; their scales proving to be impervious to their thunder magic. Count Formal allowed himself to feel hope as he watched the aerial battle and he almost thought that they had won when the insects suddenly cleared away. The Wyverns roared in triumph…until all of them were blown right out of the sky with powerful fire magic.
Count Formal ducked to avoid the shower of steaming gore until the ground shook with rhythmic beats as 6 iron dragons came into view. The Count gaped at the metal beasts as they unleashed their fury upon the shattered Legions. It was total chaos. Never before had he seen so much devastation and destruction wrought upon the Saderan Army.
All around him, men were running and screaming for their lives; some ere even praying to the Gods for salvation but it was all for nothing. The entire field was bathed in fire and blood.
Grunting in pain, Count Formal knew that in his condition, escape was impossible and no one would be willing to help him now. He spotted some cavalrymen and noblemen making a break for it into the woods and if anyone tried to escape through the Gate, they were cut down by those insects. Strangely enough, he observed those same insects were circling the slave caravans and were protecting them. Had they captured a summoner of sorts? Whatever the case, Count Formal knew that this was the end.
Soon enough, the ground shook once again and thundering from the surrounding tree line were dozens of iron war chariots and elephants supported by hundred of this world's soldiers. The iron dragons and the insects thankfully went away but the damage had already been done. The Saderan Legions who were able to cross the Gate were utterly destroyed and what few survivors left were too wounded and/or traumatized to do anything.
Soon enough, the enemy soldiers had encircled them all and Count Formal let out a dejected breath. It would seem that his day of judgement had come at last and he prepared himself to be executed. Imagine his surprise and dread that he was taken prisoner instead.
AN:
I have returned with a brand new GATE: Worlds at War. This time there will be no more delays story wise. By blood and fire, war will come to Sadera itself. And no more lengthy lore dumps.
To that end, I'd like someone to become my beta reader for this story. So if anyone's interested, please PM me.