Chapter 5: Dusk Hour

A man called Marcus once said, "Nature made the fields and man made the cities."

A simple sentence, but with plenty of room for elaboration.

For one, the cities of man are only as relevant as the men who made it possible. Cities are vast, but that sheer size is only as intimidating as the number of people you could squeeze into its individual cracks without room for complaint from the tenants.

Nod's first city was a in a bit of conundrum when it came to residents. Rain was right that such an undertaking was unnecessary when I already had homunculi at my disposal. Theirs was loyal with no faults and will literally die if I ordered them to; faction appropriate be damned. On top of this, just about everything on the base was automated, and what wasn't could easily be handled by homunculi produced with specific maintenance skills easily.

Alas, all I could do was insist my orders be done, and leave it be at that.

Every day since I gave my speech, the Brotherhood worked tirelessly to help build the base in preparation to begin our first forays into Remnant. With an idea as to the kind of threats we were facing, me, Rain and EVA had a lengthy discussion on all immediate base defenses that could be constructed.

One of the options presented were the Gun Turrets and Sam sites used extensively by the Brotherhood in TibDawn. These were approved without question, and using new data received from the sensor posts deployed by our patrols, we were able to arrange these static defenses along with smaller bunkers armed with .50 caliber quadmounts. These turrets may appear old fashioned but were far better suited in suppressing and countering smaller, nimbler targets. Alongside the larger 105mm cannons used for serious ground targets and tight patrol schedules, it was unlikely for us to be suffering casualties outside of serious incursions.

These changes went parallel with the quantity of manpower required to make it possible. Over time, the number of homunculi skyrocketed from less than two hundred to more to six hundred. Granted, a significant number of these were dedicated to other areas outside of combat such as logistics, engineering and medical.

With these major changes, there were also smaller ones. Seeing as we now knew the kind of threats expected to face, there was no need to hold back our capabilities with faux humility.

The first major quality of life change I oversaw was replacing the milita's autoguns with actual OldWorld armaments. Namely, the Autovmat Kalashnikov; a favorite weapon of rebels, insurgents and any other lowly groups not financially equipped to spend on deadlier weapons in the market. In particular, I had the GF3 model produced as I liked the black color scheme.

Leader privileges had its perks.

Second was actual combat vehicles at our disposal. While the technical and alt attack bikes may see action for a little while longer, it would be foolish to not begin producing proper fighting equipment. Hence, the M2 Bradley was introduced as an answer to sturdier Grimm types along with plans to introduce actual Nod TibDawn light tanks within the year.

To round up these changes, Rain had pushed for improved homunculi to take the field, mainly in the non-combat sectors. These men and women differed from the previous generation due to benefitting from 'better education' and 'living circumstances' back in their old lives. The real, more appropriate reason, however, was that they were simply built to handle more complex tasks and assignments with less risk of causing mishap. For combat purposes, however, I still stuck to the militia mainly for how cheap they were.

All in all, it took us over a month to complete these changes. Unfortunately, the amount of Tiberium being pumped out by the Spike wasn't the issue.

It was the nature of the Tiberium itself.

Needless to say, I was deeply frustrated. It wasn't like the crystals were flawed, mind you. It was that they were described to be 'dormant' for some reason. The currency we'd get as a result of this was almost half of what we should be getting. White, who had been 'promoted' from senior medical to leading Tiberium expert, had explained it in simple terms that this may have to do with the lack of minerals to leech off of the soil, given the arid environments. Nonetheless, what Tiberium was extracted could still be off use provided we double downed on the refining process.

As a result of this revelation, I'd given White his first task which was to find a way to revitalize the Tiberium Vein. As much as it would haunt me to think just what might happen once it starts spreading, the survival of Nod took higher priority, and we needed the emerald crystal to be at its best to guarantee that.

With each sunrise and sundown, I watched as the barren grounds at the foot of the mountain begin to alter. A basic concrete pavement was laid down to act as the first layer for further expansion. Actual residential buildings were also erected around the same time -mostly at my pestering- and I could tell that the men were grateful to no longer having to resort to using tents and prefab shelters.

Plans were drawn up for a wall to hopefully deter the inevitable future Grimm attacks, alongside blocking out sandstorms. The budget for that was rather high. Hence, we opted to leave it for now until we had attended to other matters more pressing.

It is now the thirty-first day in Remnant. A full month since we came here, and for me, a full month since I found myself at the head of one of fiction's most notorious villain factions. It would also be the day we began our campaign in earnest.

Our first operation would be to investigate several locations which we suspected to be the sites of belonging to slavers. Based on translation of the recovered documents and literature from the destroyed hovercraft, it was revealed that someone had found small deposits of Dust -Remnants main resource- across the desert. The slaves hence are being used as labor force.

When the matter was approached with the squad leaders, a general consensus was agreed upon.

Nod was going to make this as an example for the future.

"Take care of yourself now."

"Come on, don't make it sappy, please."

"You didn't have a problem before when you openly hugged me after getting off stage, a month ago."

"That was a month ago. This is now. I'd rather not give the men anymore ammo against me."

Two hands reached up to cup my cheeks. Their owner gently tugged so my face would face hers. I was forced to stare into two blue eyes against my will. Yet, I couldn't bring the slightest strength to avert my gaze. Rather, there was a blooming feeling in my chest that made me smile.

"I'm looking forward into reading your exploits, commander."

"As I you, Rain."

She released me from her hold. We then walked pass one another; I towards the interior of the ConYard and she to the Comm Station.

My aide was staying behind to maintain the base. She'd also would have the task of overseeing our other projects here, as well as taking charge should the need arise.

Even as the distance began to grow, it didn't dissuade me from taking glances over my shoulder to see if she was still within view. The thought that our current tasks would set us apart the furthest from one another did no favors on my mind. Granted, many of those who were travelling with me were from the same bunch that had accompanied me across the desert, but that did little to ease my discomfort.

As I reached the inherent brain of the structure, I found out that the operators were already at their stations doing final checks on their respective systems. Despite the nod of acknowledgement from the radar operator and a brief 'sir' from the pilot, I didn't seem to feel as if my loneliness was any less than before.

….. No matter, I have no room for pitiful acts now.

Walking to the intercom, I dialed to broadcast to all decks of the structure.

"All hands, prepare for departure. Non-associated personnel, evacuate the ConYard immediately. Pack-up protocol is being engaged."

I repeated once more before turning off the mounted device. With that done, I took quick strides to the front between the pilot seats, taking a deep inhale as I did so.

My head turned to the man on my right.

"Bring her up."

Nodding back, he keyed in the protocol. A familiar rumbling occurred around us, and I watched in awe as the space of the control shifted and folded into itself, transitioning in both apparent and discreet manners to accommodate the mobile form of the structure.

Even after witnessing it every day of our travel across the desert, seeing the ConYard's transformation in action never ceased to amaze me. As a matter of fact, I still go to sleep on more pleasant nights thinking that I'd wake up to find myself on a hospital bed, either crippled or dying. Yet, the more I indulged in the world, the less I found it likely to be a dream.

"Pack up complete, awaiting orders sir."

Thoughts began to dissipate as the pilot to my left unknowingly intruded into my moment. I looked at him with a straight face.

"Follow the nav given," I stated. "Bring us there."

He nodded stoically and proceeded with my instructions. Deft hands skillfully maneuvered the quadruped machine out of its hold. Even from within the confined space of the control room, I could hear the groans of the gears as well as the hiss of sand getting displaced.

The viewport in front of us shifted and we went from facing the mountain to facing the open desert once more. Even with the confined view, I could still discern the small shapes of a small patrol out in the distance, alongside the concrete pavement below that was on the verge of being swept under the sands.

Nodding in silent appreciation, I took a moment to ponder before deciding to raise my left hand. The display for the WMT was waiting for me, and I didn't hesitate accessing contact for the comm center.

"This is Terror One, we're mobilized and exiting the base. Escorts should be following close on the flanks."

"Confirmed, Terror One. Base defenses report no hostile activity at this hour. You're free to proceed. May providence bless you."

"Stay safe in salvation," was what I replied back. The moment the link was cut, I walked to the display table on the right side of the room. My mind working to distract itself from troubling thoughts.

Safe in salvation.

Something I was beginning to note was how much I seemed to try and overwrite Nod's established lore with my own. Each time I did this, I felt a constant feeling of elation from it. It was something I couldn't exactly place, but I had to be careful to not let it get into my head.

Were my own speeches working too well?

Shaking my head again, I brought the MCV's rear cameras. My focus was on the one that was pointed right behind us towards the now shrinking base. I took my time staring at it, and the large spire further back, that stood as a monolith to our cause and power here in this world.

Underneath the afternoon sky, the place casted a rather rundown look. With how each day that passed, more and more sand had gotten stuck on the walls of each building and the entire base seemed ready to sink into the landscape as a result. This proved to be another troubling thought, so much so that I had brought up the nav on the table to confirm that we had the exact coordinates of the base saved in case we came back to nothing.

"Commander," EVA suddenly interjected. "It is going to take considerable time to reach the operations area. Recommend using this opportunity to plan ahead for the oncoming scenario."

I eyed the roof of the vehicle, imagining a giant eye looking down at me with what must've been some manner of concern. Tempted as I was to retort, one good look at my surroundings was all it took to make me realize that the virtual intelligence had a valid point, much to my own disgruntlement.

With a sigh, I dismissed myself from the control room. I wasn't interested with any other happenings within the crawler, and so I decided my time would be spent in my room doing the only other activity I had in my alone time.

Reading.

It still confounded me just how many literature pieces were sitting on the shelves at the back of my personal quarters. Stories from ancient Greece and the Orientals, to late twentieth century sci-fi dominated the upper shelves, whereas works from well-known philosophers, spiritual figures and thinkers dominated the lower ones. Naturally, there were topics I preferred over others, but that didn't dissuade me from having a go at least for the first few pages.

As I skimmed of over the various titles of display, I ended up picking Dune from the shelf, and continued reading from where I left off.

Getting comfy on my office seat, I settled for what was going to be a long voyage.

It took us a week to reach our first destination. The site of our first operation lay westwards and so we followed the length of the mountain range until we reached it.

The crawler's escorts were the first to report the sighting of what appeared to be a settlement at the foot of the mountain range. Imagery was soon provided using the camera mounted on the technicals, along with drone footage in the air to substitute this worlds lack of artificial satellites for remote viewing.

Based on visuals presented, it was an even worse-off place than I thought. There were actual structures, but also camps and tents made off what had to be canvas, animal skin and ropes. Some people weren't any better as what little could be seen shambled in leather used to conceal their forms, but there were also others with proper attire for the desert and they had firearms.

I studied the live images from the control room. My mind shuffling through every scrap of trivia about the show that I could remember in order to pin down just where we were in the timeline. I would've thought we were far back into the past considering the place was no more than a walled-off feudal settlement with a few significant details.

Mainly, the guard towers at the front and on each corner were the standard, oppressive kind found in just about any media, alongside the simple sheet metal walls surrounding the settlement with barbed wire coiled around the top. The perimeter took up a half-square at the base of the mountain, and upon zooming out, I could make out structures that were almost invisible even through the camera lens due to the rust coating on the walls.

"EVA," I called out. "Any idea of our first move?"

"As you're aware, commander. The settlement is not alert to our presence. If we wait for a later time of the day, we may be able to launch a raid that would better catch the defenders off-guard."

"If I may interject, commander," a feminine spoke up. "We may gain a better hand if we send an emissary to negotiate with the locals first."

I turned to look at the source. From where I stood on a shorter end of the table, I could see that it was the radar operator who had seen it right to interfere.

"Care to elaborate," I queried.

"With all due respect, I'm sure our superior arms will guarantee dominance in a fight. However, our objective here is to liberate the slaves and convince them to our cause. Starting a fight right off the bat won't achieve that. Rather, they'll be as likely to run away as they would if given a chance under their current masters."

The lieutenant's logic was sound. Yet, I was given little time to ponder when another voice got itself involved.

"That's risky lieutenant. An emissary would need an armed force for protection, and that'll be a dead giveaway we may be planning something. The Brotherhood needs to conserve as much manpower as possible. Besides, we'd lose the element of surprise if we sent diplomats in."

This prompted the operator to turn and glare at the pilot.

"I'm sure our battle brothers are more than capable with brawling with a few low life's armed with shivs and crude ranged weapons."

"Oh yeah, then what about a few dozen then? Frak, what if the slave drivers managed to drive those people into a frenzy? Gun or no, there's no way our people are going to last long enough for back up to arrive."

"Fitting words for a man who died before getting to pro-,"

"Enough," I declared, forcing the two to turn back to their stations. The tension in the air was now palpable.

I had to suppress my sigh. It really shouldn't surprise me that the men would start getting on each other's throats.

My attention was turned back to the screens on the walls. There was still one too many variables at play that we didn't know of. Although, what remained certain was that we needed a way in.

If force wasn't the answer, then what if….

"EVA," I summoned the intelligence. "What would people value most when stuck in the desert?"

The sun was low in the horizon when a small convoy consisting of six technicals crossed the open space in front of the enclosed settlement. The third vehicle in this convoy was unique in that it had its main armament removed for extra space. This allowed six armed men to sit more comfortably on the flatbed, whilst the leader of the troop stood proudly holding the railing along the roof of the vehicle for stability.

As they approached the gates, the watchers on both towers stared down in full alertness. By this point, a messenger had been sent running further into the settlement to alert the superiors.

One of the watchers leaned over the low wall of the tower and proceeded speak up with a gravelly voice.

"Who are you people?"

"…,"

"I said," he tried again, his voice became laced with frustration. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU LOT!"

His hand worked the bolt action he held. The archaic weapon was a relic of the old war and had seen better days. Yet, it was still more than capable of inflicting pain if needed.

He trained the rifle on the lead vehicle, particularly the man standing on the back. Amidst the darkening sky, there was only a black silhouette for which to set his sights on, but height elevation played to his advantage. No doubt, if he missed then he was certain the watcher in the other tower would get him. By then, the rest of the camp's defenders would arrive to reinforce them.

A flash of red pierced the dusk.

Caught up in his focus, he was briefly blinded by the glow. Panic set in and he adjusted his aim to where the source of light came from.

He was nonplussed at what he saw. Suspended diagonally in the air was what looked like a staff. It had a spiral that ran from one end and ended just slightly pass the middle. What was most notable was the red glow of the spiral, illuminating the dark hand holding it along with the cowled visage of the owner.

If before the watcher was infuriated, then now he was more than alarmed.

The light of the staff had served to reveal that it had been more than just some no-name convoy that had stopped in front of their gates. In fact, said convoy was armed to the teeth, and each vehicle was jam packed with armed men wearing mismatched sets, most notable were cloaks, parkas and ponchos. A symbol could be seen but was difficult to discern underneath the red luminescence.

"Oi, what you seeing up there!"

A voice snapped him to attention. Switching to the wall on the right, he looked down to see the camp commander looking up at him.

"Not sure, boss. They're not talking!"

"Well, shoo them away then!"

He had to bite back the cringe. "Don't know if it's a good idea, boss. They look like a pretty tough bunch out there!"

"We wish to exchange."

The air turned cold. The heat from the sands seemed to turn frigid from the words that reverberating through the air.

Turning back to the front where the convoy was still parked, he noted the staff no longer in the air and instead aligned with the height of the figure on the third vehicle from the front.

"We wish to exchange." It repeated.

The watcher stood there unsure what to do. His rifle that had been a source of guarantee at one point seemed no more than a fancy stick now. His thumb and index played with the bolt and trigger respectively as tried to reassure himself.

"…Open the gate."

He had to take a double take at what he heard. Peering over the side of the tower, he noted his superior staring at the gate with his knuckles on his hips. Around him, there were half a dozen men, each voicing their own protest at what seemed like an act of insanity.

"I said opened the Gods damned gate!"

The man's words quieted the protest of his subordinates. With great reluctance, the crank that kept the gate shut was pulled and the sheet metal that was the gate began to move to the side.

With equal parts fascination and trepidation, all eyes watched as the boss of the operation walked out with his most trusted men tailing behind him. Even despite the fact the men were armed, clad in full armour and having Aura, there was a distinct nagging in the back of his head that something just didn't feel right.

A brief spike of alarm resonated when the two lead vehicles suddenly reversed; one to the right and the other to the left, leaving only the third vehicle with the staff wielding individual. The approaching group had to stop briefly as the third vehicle suddenly moved to the side, and its passengers began to disembark.

By now, it was fairly obvious that the hooded one was a leader, but the watcher along with those in the camp couldn't hear what was being said unlike before. It should be noted that the light of the staff had dimmed so that it only covered the area surrounding the two parties. At the same time, another feature of the staff was revealed, partly due to the light bouncing from the sands.

A hand holding a sphere upwards, akin to an act of triumph.

While the guard had seen his fair share of intimidating graffiti, this particular instance felt distinct.

Whatever exchange was being had, it nearly became tense when the men accompanying the staff-wielder moved to pull something from the vehicle, prompting the boss' men to reach for their swords. Before they could draw, their superior raised his hand to halt them. The outsiders returned with boxes, which even from this distance seemed rather heavy considering the sand kicked up when they touched the ground.

There then passed a moment of silence as the two groups stared at each other, before the boss motioned one of the men to check one of the boxes. With shoulders still squared for a fight, the fighter in question took careful steps to one of the boxes and opened the lid to check inside.

'…light?' was what the watcher internally thought upon seeing a brilliance emanating from within the box.

Soon enough, whatever was inside had gotten the fighter excited. Their loud voice could only be heard in bits and pieces, but what he caught had to do with 'cooling' so to speak. Said fighter then passed something to the silhouette of the boss, and he watched as their figure brought it close to their face.

More talk happened, but now the previous oppressive atmosphere was beginning to fade. The red light from the staff also seemed to dim in its intensity to a more comfortable tone, and what finally sealed the deal was the bark laughter from the boss.

Eventually, all seemed to go well, and the two groups began to disperse. The boxes were left behind, and one of the boss' men immediately called for a few other men to help carry them. As the boss and his band returned, the light from within the encampment served to reveal there were altogether six boxes with two men carrying each.

"Oi, boss," someone called. "What was that about?"

"Just some interesting clients," he replied. "Get some slaves ready for transport. They'll be coming back in the morning."

"And what's in the boxes?"

The second question made the leader stop and turn on his feel, his face set in a straight expression, the questioner feared the worst was coming. What didn't help was when the former threw something with the flick of his right wrist, prompting the other man to catch it out of reflex.

A scream echoed, but nothing else. Slowly, he opened his palm and checked just exactly had been thrown his way.

"W-what…," he sputtered.

That was more than enough for the rest of the men to start crowding around the catchers. The boss laughed once again, the happiest he seemed to be in months.

"Go on, have a taste," he said. " 'Cause sometime tomorrow, we're ALL gonna be enjoying this shit!"

A commotion grew from the gathered men, their curiosity winning out. In their eyes, this was as miraculous as the finding of a new Dust vein in this blasted desert. So far away as they were from civilization, working to guard and whip the damn slaves into digging deeper, along with the occasional Grimm incursion from both desert and within the mountain. A chance encounter with another group should only spell trouble, or that they'd been had.

Yet, as he watched his associates begin to celebrate over their new found luxury, he couldn't help but worry. Granted, it was still better than the usual pissed off look everyone had on other days. However, the watcher in the tower just couldn't shake the feeling that they'd walked into a Deathstalker's reach.

Alas, who was he to question. He was just a grunt with a shooty stick.

"They took the bait."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I watched through the drone cameras as the 'diplomatic' party began to return.

"Excellent work, Boman." I then switched frequency on the WMT.

"All squads, be ready. Our strike begins at 2200 hours."

"Acknowledged."

With that out of the way, I returned to viewing the constructed 3d projection of on the holographic table. Based on the reconnaissance of the drones, the camp and mine housed the slaves and security forces respectively. After some discussion, it was inferred that should an uprising occur and that the guards failed to suppress it, then the thugs would hide themselves within the minds and leave their rebelling slaves out in the open desert. Considering the Grimm were a factor, that would leave the people to a slow and gruesome death.

Following this deduction, it was reasonable to believe that some form of long ranged comm existed to inform the masters. Fortunately, we didn't even have a need for a complicated plan in finding it, seeing as how one of our drones accidentally stumbled on its frequency waves by accident. One of the control room operators assured me that they could jam the signal once the engagement began, assuming it wasn't outright destroyed to begin with.

Hence, all that's left was to execute the other half of our plan.

"I can't believe that worked," the pilot remarked.

"Would it kill you to have a little faith?" the radar operator smirked at him.

"I was raised to never believe strangers in the alleyway," he bemoaned whilst shaking his head. "This is that, but like, bigger and not involving syringes and vapes."

"That's rather surprising," I joined. "I thought Nod took advantage of the social instability for recruitment."

He snorted. "Yeah, and who do you think makes that drive work? Smart people like us."

"Oh, I didn't know you were of privileged background," the radar operator quipped.

"… Nod does have its own schools and civil aid infrastructures, you know?" the pilot glared at her. "They filter out the smarter and useful ones from the rest. It just so happened they knew I was a good driver since I helped my pa with deliveries after school."

"Must've been impressive if they made you a crawler pilot," I noted.

"Well, yeah I guess," he shrugged. "Back then, I just wanted the benefits since they'd look after the old man even when I was gone."

"Didn't he worry for you joining the Brotherhood?"

"We… didn't have much to lose after mom passed. We had each other, yeah. But it wasn't the same, you know? It didn't help that he never remarried, and that the weather just kept getting worse every day. All that mattered at the time was not losing him too."

A warm feeling overcame me, and my smile widened to better suit this sensation.

"Well, I'm sure he's grateful for your efforts in seeing his comfort."

"…. Yeah," he nodded. "I hoped so too."

I then turned to the radio operator. "And what about you?"

"Born and raised in Nod," she spoke with pride. "I had the courtesy of being raised within an orphanage in Cairo. The closest thing I had to parents would be my instructors and Kane himself as my patriarch."

"Must've been quite the cult life," I dared myself to speak.

"Not exactly," she said. "Your pilot speaks the truth that Nod tends to scrutinise when separating the wheat from chaff. Many of those who served the upper echelons believe in Kane's reasoning more so than his charm alone."

'Interesting,' I internally mused.

It is be said that the actual Nod that existed both and before the arrival of Tiberium was many things. Villain, scheming and never with good intention. Theirs was a faction that used everything at its disposal to achieve its objectives.

Yet, I suppose they did in fact do some good when it mattered. For the life of a human was short, and many would choose to solve their present hardships rather than a future they couldn't see.

Tonight, was a full moon, or at least as close to a full moon as this world could get. Staring up at the fractured satellite, I couldn't hold back a shiver as I thought of well… the other, less known things about RWBY. I remembered how, like many others, I chastised the show's faults, however the same couldn't be said now that I was in it.

Man could never hope to leave this world whilst their society remained fuelled by the literal remains of their past selves. However, Tiberium would change that, and it was only a matter of time until the Brotherhood found out how to reinvigorate the Vein, assuming the crystal doesn't achieve that itself.

A momentary chill passed me and I clenched my hands to stifle the feeling. A hand grabbed me from behind and I turned to see it was Sergiu.

"All is prepared, sir. We proceed on your word."

"Eager to spill blood, I see," I spared him a smile.

He shrugged. "It's just the jitters."

I was tempted to tease further, but whatever words I had died in my chest as my awareness was brought back to my current surroundings.

Obviously, by now we'd built a small attack post to better facilitate our operations. In addition to the vehicles and men that had accompanied us, we built new ones that brought our total strength to a grand fifty vehicles with men three times that in number. Overspent perhaps, but I was always an aggressive spender in-game.

Our plan was simple, technicals and bikes will assault from the south, east and west. Thus far, our sensors had yet to detect any external force approaching whether it be man or Grimm. Nonetheless, I opted to prepare a reserve force consisting of five M2 Bradley's along with spare technicals and attack bikes who were at the ready to intercept in case anything happens.

Around me, there were all manner of men from gunners to operators waiting eagerly for the moment to strike. Not wanting to disappoint them, I mentioned for Sergiu to return to his unit before marching up the dune that served as a nice obstruction to shield our base from camp's the line of sight.

"Fighters, arm up!" I heard someone shout, at the same time I began my ascend to the top of the dune overlooking the mining facilty.

Reaching the top, I took a moment to compose myself before observing the land below me. While the light from the broken moon didn't serve much in the way of illumination, I knew well enough the general position of the other two groups. Their numbers safely hidden behind the rises and perhaps just as eager to strike.

Exhilaration filled my being. I felt, and felt the moment of violence fast approaching.

This is it. I told myself. No going back now.

Indeed, whatever happened tonight, there will be no excuse for it being an accident or mishap. This hour, lives are going to be loss, and it will be I who gave the order. Yet, I did not sense my spirit wavering but rather it felt burning.

I caressed the device in my hand. A simple detonator for the air-fuelled explosives hidden away within each of the crates given to the camp's guard force. By design, they'd detonate with enough force to blow a single story house sky high. Or in this case, guarantee the death of plenty of thugs whether they had Aura or not.

Spinning to face the assembled men, I carefully regarded as many of them as I could. Even underneath their veiled visages, I could tell they were just as eager as I was to get this under way. To practice the very arts that defined their old selves. A chance to be free. Free to do as they are meant to. Kill and fight those that stand opposed to their brotherhood and its plans.

And who was I to withhold them.

Raising the detonator high in the air, I thumbed the button. A high-pitched beep was heard before a resounding boom, and then the area behind me became alight with an orange glow.

I then howled.

My cry, though incoherent, was more than enough to get the point across. Dozens of men howled along as they rode pass me on iron steeds and into the light behind. Some of those that passed closer, I could see the wildness that had over taken them. The sheer glee of being able to embrace jihad in its most raw form.

As the last vehicle passed me, I slowly turned around to regard the view of the camp once more. What awaited me was a breath-taking sight, pass the panic screams of the occupants and the sound of sporadic gunfire and battle cries amidst the roaring flames burning at the foot of the mountain. A beautiful glow, whose trail reached far up and into the night.

It was a moment to be etched into memory.

Sergiu's vehicle was rocked once more as they ran over yet another person. He'd hoped it was not one of the slaves, but considering they were already entering the compound for the mining site itself proper, he just assumed it to be one of the combatants caught in the headlights.

He and his squad were part of the south group. They and half of the southern group were tasked to sweep along the main road leading to the facility at the base of the mountain. They were expected to rendezvous with the east and west groups who had breached first and went up ahead.

The plan was simple in that they would clear the slave camp of defenders and immediately begin shepherding them to the base. In the meantime, the bulk of the armed forces would kill any surviving guards, if not at the very least hold them off until the evacuation was complete.

Given that the entirety of the mining facility was up in flames, he assumed there was little in the way of them having to 'hold off' against a possible counterattack.

"Who the hell still uses wood for building?" someone voiced on the comm.

"Some rich fattie with a peabrain that's who."

"Frakkers can't even have it in them to pay for a decent rig."

"Cut the chatter, we're here," Sergiu interrupted.

With a series of 'sirs' the comms went quiet. Each vehicle either fanned out or separated into groups of four along with accompanying squads in order to better cover the area. Stepping out of his own vehicle, the acrid smoke was what immediately assaulted his senses. His eyes watered, and breathing was difficult, yet still he pushed through the foul air.

"Don't bother with the buildings!" He addressed his squad. "Just keep the streets clear and shoot anything that doesn't have a Tail!"

He barely made out the shouts of confirmations pass the roar of the flames.

An oppressive silence filled the air after as the squad and their technicals began their thorough patrol through the facility. The silent agreement among them was to get the matter done with haste so that they could leave just as quick.

Sergiu was of the same mind, but that was more so he didn't want to be reminded of that incident with the barge. Even though it made him seem weak, the fact was he never got used to killings like these. The same couldn't be said for others, however.

CRASH!

The militant was broken from his misery when a building to their right collapse, causing all of them to turn and face the sudden disturbance.

Out of the rubble and what remained of the entrance, a number of figures began to appear. Blackened and shambling, some were quick to collapse whilst others continued to walk a bit further away. One even managed to turn their way…

… and reveal the burnt skull he had for a head.

It raised its arms, and this prompted one of the men to pull the trigger. With a brief rapport, the figure suddenly lurched back and fell to the ground.

A moment came to pass for the men of Nod to process what they'd seen, but eventually, upon realising it had been a living corpse, they slowly moved on. Similar scenes began to repeat as they went through the rest of the site.

Apparently, the air-fuelled bombs didn't deliver instant death as their commander had hoped. A good number of guards were found wading through the streets in sheer agony from grievous burn wounds. Those few with functioning sensory organs turned to face them, only to earn either a bullet or a full magazine in them. In a rare instance, some might even try to run but would never make it far.

With their task done, they gathered at the to leave. Most of the militants had gathered and all sported a new camo pattern made of soot. A solemn atmosphere filled the air, as squad leaders swapped reports while their men took a moment to relax.

"Ah!"

Hearing a scream of pain, they turned just in time to see a lone man standing on the main road leading into the still burning remains of the mining facility. He wore armour of the ornate kind, a bastardisation of a knight's armour from fairy tales. Below him was the body of a militiaman, having been slashed across the chest by the long clever held by the armoured man.

It didn't take as second to put the two pieces together, and the militiaman were quick to respond with a barrage of lead. Their foe responded by charging forwards and closing the distance far faster than a man should.

Appearing in front of the closest individual, the young fighter barely had time to process the threat before the cleaver came down. Not wasting time, the swordsman brought the weapon in a low swing upwards to his left, catching another fighter. His rampage was interrupted when he was tackled from behind by another and held in place.

"Shoot him!" the militant screamed before a vicious headbutt sent him flying back.

The remaining fighters were quick to form a semi-circle and poured their combined firepower into the swordsman. In their panic rage, they didn't notice their bullets bouncing off the man due to an invisible barrier. Alas, the barrier itself barely lasted seconds under concentrated fire, and soon enough the man was jerking violently from having been punctured by an uncountable number of rounds.

Eventually, the bizarre swordsman finally fell onto his back. Not taking chances, the fighters encircled him and poured more led into his already shredded body, particularly his head.

Another moment of silence soon passed. The gathered forced turned their collective gazes towards the dying flames, expecting more men like the sword-wielder to appear. This proved to be half-right, as a group of five appeared, only far less armoured than the first and wielding an assortment of weapons from clubs to cleavers.

One of them made to scream to something in his tongue, but was cut-off mid-sentence as the militia opened fire. This time, the squad leaders coordinated their units and with the proper aid from the technicals' heavy machine gun, three of the oncoming threats were gunned down before they could close in.

The last two were disastrous for the closely packed fighters. No less than a dozen men were cut down through the coordination between the two sword-wielders before the rest had the chance to back away and opened fire once.

With their advantage loss, one of the two sword-wielders used their own body as a shield to allow the other to get in close. As their comrade's body fell to the earth, they let out a war cry and gripped their weapon tightly to try above them, the sole intention they had was to take as many of these assailants with them to the afterlife.

Alas, they would not fulfil their intention as a technical rammed into them and dragged them across the ground underneath the vehicle. Barrier or not, it was clear the sole surviving warrior was dazed and in his moment of incoherence, the militia closed in and opened fire point-blank into them.

Once again, there was quiet in the chaos. Through clenched teeth, each militiaman responded when called by their superiors. After staying long enough to ensure nothing else appeared from the now fading blaze, the troops began to mount their respective vehicles and leave.

"How many?"

"Thirteen sir," the ashen covered man reported. "They had that Aura thing you spoke off. Shrugged off AK fire like it was nothing at first."

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry for not coming more prepared then. Get some rest, you and the rest earned it."

Sergiu merely nodded and trudged off towards his men. Breaking my gaze from, I looked around me at the gathered assembly of people.

And realised the sheer magnitude of the error in my plan.

I had known that slaves would imply people with next to no rights of living; their very lives hinged on just how kind their master was and how much he saw them as actual human beings.

All of the suppose characteristics of a slave were in full display right in front of me. Deprived of joy, malnourished to the bone and practically incapable of independent thought. The look in their eyes lacked any sort of light, just a resignation that their collars were given to a new hand.

I looked at them, and for the first time in a very long time I found it in me to do something I hated.

Pitying.

The mere thought this feeling was enough to make me sick. It made me sick of these people who I spent time, resources and manpower to free and make my own. It made me appalled and all the more so feeling like I WASTED it all.

Footsteps alerted me to another, I glanced to see it was the diplomat I'd sent earlier that day. He was a dark-skinned man, and the last interaction we had was the brief talk we had over his task in reasoning with the guards.

"Yes?"

"They're not fit for transport. We'll need more medical personnel and resources before we can safely bring them back to the base."

"That doesn't sound like a serious problem to me."

"…The slaves aren't just the problem."

I turned fully to face him. "Then what is?"

"It's us sir. We can't handle them. Look behind you."

He gestured with his staff towards the masses. They had been gathered into a circle with the militia stationed around them, armed and ready in case anything happens. With the operation done, additional light sources had been erected to better help in navigating around the dark. The scene before us looked like the start of a horrific act.

"Anything we do now will be a complete and utter waste of our time. Even if we managed to bring them back to base, the fact is it'd be a miracle if they lived longer than a year. Also, may I remind you that the base is currently rather understaffed and definitely lacking in civilian infrastructure. This whole endeavour is a complete waste of our time."

"Watch your tone, diplomat."

"I'd watch mine if you take time consider your own goals."

He then stood a little straighter and placed a hand across his chest.

"I serve Kane and the Brotherhood. However, as our messiah is absent, I have been informed it now falls upon you to lead our people. While it is a certainty for newly appointed leaders to make a lot of mistakes, it is more important that they learn fast and be proactive about it. All I ask is that you take the time to consider on your next course of action."

As abruptly as he came, so too did he leave. I watched as he began to give a speech using the in-built translation device in his staff as a medium. All of it done of his own accord and without my permission.

I certainly felt aggrieved that the homunculi would do such a thing. Unsure of how to vent, I kicked the sand below me and marched off back to the ConYard.

I ignored all the greetings and salute as I marched back to my room. I gave a brief instruction to EVA of what to do and to oblige the diplomats request before I sat down in my chair and asked to be left alone.

Fiddling with the options on my table, I brought up the communications link and called the base. Three tones later, a familiar face popped up on screen. She was surprisingly still in uniform at this hour, albeit she was missing her usual beret.

"Master, good evening. Is there something you need?"

"Just how big of an idiot am I, Rain?"

"What happened? Did the operation go wrong?"

I let out the sigh I'd been holding and my head dipped.

"We succeeded, but I had no idea that 'they' would be in such a terrible state. The diplomat said that it was going to time to make them able for transport. Time we certainly don't have."

"The flaws in your plan were always there, Jared. There's a reason I kept trying to dissuade you."

"But why! Why did it have to be like this?! Why can't it be things just be easy for once!"

"…. Because that's what being a leader is about."

I turned to face the image of my aide on the screen. Inhaling deeply, she then continued.

"As I've said before, my people live to serve you to the best of our abilities. It just so happens that you've chosen this path out of your own wanting to make a city and that comes with all the problems of one. What I can advise you, however, is to take the time to explore all available options and proceed with your goals."

"…. These need people need help. What can be given to them?"

"Name it, and Nod will provide. We have access to the most powerful resource on this world. You yourself have already witness it first-hand."

"The Technology of Peace."

"And it is as you say, the Salvation of This World."

From there, the topic began to change to a more mundane setting. We both gave updates on our respective fronts, and I chastised Rain on her sleep schedule. She ended rolling her eyes and shutting the link, but not before sending me a small smile.

I was left to my own thoughts for a while, and I took the time to contemplate what must be done. When nothing outside the obvious came to mind, I immediately went back outside.

Just as I opened the door to my quarters, I found a familiar face awaiting me on the other end. He certainly looked just as surprised as I was.

"Commander," he greeted.

"Diplomat, just the person I needed."

I asked him to walk with me and to give me the details on the newly freed slaves. Our path took us to the elevator, and we headed down.

"…. The newly created medical personnel are hard at work in assessing the state of health of the people."

"Not enough. Get them food and water. I also want the militia to make their faces visible. I'll have the transports prepared first thing in the morning."

"But there's no guarantee they can be moved by then," he protested.

"No need to move," I clarified. "It's meant to be shelter. A moving shelter at that."

The doors opened and we stepped out. I stopped halfway just to turn and face him.

"You were right when you said I needed to reassess my directives." I spoke. "Which is why I need you're aid more than ever now."

"And what might that be?" he queried, raising his eyebrow.

"The people today and in the coming times are going to act as the flesh of Nod. Whereas the homunculi will be the bone and mind of our organisation, but it will be these people that outsiders will look to when discussing about us."

Holding him by both shoulders, I went on with my elaboration.

"Do you understand? Nod in Remnant isn't going just remain as a shadow organisation operating within anarchy. It's going to be an entire state that operates on clandestine principles, and it is these people that will show that it works."

"But how certain are you that these people won't betray us?"

I smile. "Simple answer, my good man. We just have to convince them not to."

I left it at that and continued marching out. My head was spinning, but it was the good kind of spin. The kind which only comes when one is certain there to be plans to be set into motion.

Who knew there would be so much to do in this line of work? I guess that's what makes it exciting.

A/N: Another one out! Geez I'm surprising myself in how fast I push these out.

Not much to say this time. Nod begins to make waves in Remnant, whilst its leader learns the sheer depth of the body of water its swimming in. All in all nice stuff.

Perhaps excited is not the right word. However, I view as an author's duty to see this through, and I feel like that's the right mindset to take as I set forth into making more chapters.

Anyways, a sincere request for reviews and a good spread of the word for this story!

See you next chap!