Gate: The Last Chance

by Mr.Kromer20

With the release of an interdimensional entity and a worldwide rebellion, the Combine begins to exhaust its patience towards humanity. Amidst the upheaval, an interdimensional portal emerges in a park in City 17, leading to an attack by the Empire on the city. Unbeknownst to them, this action has resulted in them gifting their own planet to a multiversal empire.

1. Prologue: The Gate

Translation Disclaimer: This translation was handled with the help of AI, but the script and story remain entirely my own creation.

Author's Note: Gordon Freeman is still in stasis by the G-Man, and the events of Half-Life 2 unfolded differently as this is an alternate timeline, It will be explained later, specifically in chapter 4, how the uprising happened without Gordon's attack on Nova Prospekt. There will be an explanation for this in later chapters of the story.

New note from the author: The prologue and chapter will be remade in the future. So that they better match my new narration, which has improved a lot since I wrote the prologue and chapter 1 at the beginning of the year on Wattpad.

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Location: The Earth, in City 17.

After the tumultuous events of the rebel uprising, hopes for freedom faded with each new roar of Combine artillery. The formidable transhuman forces of Overwatch, tasked with subjugating the human population, advanced relentlessly alongside the ranks of Civil Protection.

In just a week and a half since the conflict began, the rebels' territorial control evaporated like a drop of dew under the blazing sun of Combine military supremacy. Their guerrilla tactics and entrenched positions were nothing more than temporary patches on a cracked dam doomed to break.

The European city had become a field of smoldering ruins and charred debris. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of burned gunpowder and molten metal. Gunfire incessantly echoed down every alleyway, turning the streets into a death maze where every shadow cast could be the last one seen.

The Resistance fought tooth and nail, clinging to every inch of ground like a castaway to a lifeline. But their weapons, mostly outdated or stolen from Overwatch soldiers, and their makeshift training, were no match for the Combine's suppression machinery. Each time a Hunter Chopper or Gunship was shot down by rebel RPGs, ten more took its place, like an implacable steel hydra.

Buildings that once housed homes and dreams now lay in ruins, their entrails exposed to the world like the viscera of a gutted animal. The streets were dotted with smoking craters, the result of the incessant headcrab shell bombardments that the Combine launched over rebel positions.

As the sun set, bathing the city in a scarlet mantle, the insurgents were inexorably pushed northward. Every step they took left a trail of blood and despair in their wake. The dark shadow of the Citadel loomed over them like a silent monolith foreshadowing their inevitable defeat.

At the top of the imposing Citadel, Doctor Wallace Breen was immersed in a tense mental conversation with one of the Advisors. Seated behind his desk, his slender fingers drummed restlessly on the cold metallic surface.

The Advisor's words echoed in his mind like a distant but relentless echo. "Your performance as Administrator leaves much to be desired." The telepathic voice, devoid of emotional inflection, was a constant reminder of the high expectations weighing on his shoulders.

Breen squeezed his eyes shut, trying to maintain calm in the face of the rising tide of stress threatening to overwhelm him. He took a deep breath before responding, choosing his words with utmost care; "I am doing everything within my power, but the magnitude of the Resistance's surprise attack caught us all off guard."

A slight tremor shook his hand as he ran his fingers through his white hair. "We are fighting an enemy that behaves like cockroaches, they refuse to disappear." His voice, though controlled, betrayed a note of frustration. "I spare no effort to prove we are worthy of being part of the Alliance."

Barely had he finished speaking when a second telepathic voice intruded on the conversation like a sharp dagger stabbing his mind. "Is this all you can do? The devastation surrounding us is proof of your incompetence."

Breen gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitened by how hard he gripped the edges of his desk. Before he could respond, the second voice continued mercilessly. "The Resistance has existed for more than one decade and five years and you still haven't eradicated them."

A chill ran down Breen's spine at those accusatory words. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat. "I was about to finish them off," he defended himself, his voice slightly wavering. "It's not my fault that Judith Mossman betrayed me by rescuing Eli Vance and destroying the replica of the local teleportation prototype."

A tense silence followed his words, like the deceptive calm before a storm. Breen could feel cold sweat forming on his forehead, his hands gripping so tightly to the desk that his knuckles had turned white.

Suddenly, the first Advisor's voice resonated again in his mind, as cutting as a knife. "We are not interested in your excuses, Administrator. The Alliance expects results, not endless apologies."

Breen swallowed hard, feeling his throat constricting with pure stress. He knew his position as Administrator of Earth hung by a thread, and any further failure could mean his downfall. A brief silence ensued, charged with an almost palpable tension.

Breen held his breath, bracing himself for the next admonition from the Advisors. His jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain a facade of control, even though inside he felt like a man teetering on the edge of a precipice.

A third Advisor employed its psionic powers to manipulate the inactive monitors, projecting images of the battlefields surrounding the Citadel. The sight was devastating: buildings reduced to smoldering piles of rubble in the wake of the fearsome Striders, their massive mechanical legs crushing everything in their path.

The sky was blanketed by a dark, ominous cloud formed by the incessant back-and-forth of the imposing Gunships soaring overhead like metallic vultures. Their swiveling cannons swept the streets with deadly bursts, turning any shelter into a potential target.

"Fire! Don't let them advance!" A Civil Protection officer's voice rang out amid the chaos, barely audible over the deafening roar of explosions.

The first monitor displayed an intense combat scene: a small squad of rebels fought tenaciously against the relentless forces of Civil Protection. The armed civilians, defying Combine oppression, found themselves cornered by the metropolitan police.

"Take cover! Here they come!" A burly rebel, his face etched with battle scars, dove behind an overturned car just as a hail of bullets pounded against the metal.

The shots came from a group of four Civil Protection officers advancing in a tight formation, their weapons trained on the insurgents. Their dark blue uniforms were spattered with soot and bloodstains, mute testimony to previous clashes.

"Don't you dare surrender to those damned traitors!" The defiant cry of one of the rebels echoed down the alleyway, igniting a fresh volley of gunfire from both sides.

In a brutal twist of fate, a burst from a submachine gun wielded by a police officer cut down one of the rebels. His lifeless body fell to the pavement, a crimson stain slowly spreading around him in a silent testament to the harsh reality of conflict.

"Damn it! We lost Yuri!" The scarred rebel gritted his teeth, his gaze laden with fury as he briefly peeked out to return fire.

The sound of bullets ricocheting off metal rang out as a cruel reminder of their desperate plight. They were trapped, surrounded on all sides, and ammunition was beginning to run low.

Suddenly, a deafening roar shook the ground beneath their feet. A Gunship had spotted the skirmish and loomed overhead like a metallic bird of prey, quickly swooping in toward the alleyway entrance with its swiveling cannon aimed squarely at its targets.

"Everyone down! That flying piece of shit is coming our way!" The warning shout had barely left his lips before a veritable storm of bullets rained down upon them.

The pavement became a field of smoking craters, the hail of rounds shredding everything in their path. Screams of agony and desperation filled the air as the rebels desperately sought cover.

One by one, they fell to the dark energy barrage, their bodies convulsing in final spasms before lying forever motionless, others left mangled and unrecognizable. Blood mingled with dust and debris, forming a grisly sludge that stained the streets of City 17.

When the thundering finally ceased, only two rebels remained alive, huddled behind a mound of broken bricks. The scarred man panted, his face covered in sweat and grime as he assessed the situation with cold, calculating eyes.

"We need to move... We can't stay here..." He rasped, his gaze meeting that of his fellow survivor.

The latter nodded silently, his trembling hands gripping his battered rifle tightly. They both knew the odds were against them, but before they could even get to their feet, a grenade landed in front of them, exploding and snuffing out their lives.

On the second monitor, the battle scene replayed with equally brutal variations. An Ordinal soldier from the Overwatch force, his armor dented and marred by previous gunshots, led the assault with an almost inhuman coldness.

"Wallhammer, clean up that cluster of anti-citizens!" The Ordinal's distorted voice came through encrypted communication channels, every word laced with the military inflection characteristic of his rank.

By his side, the armored figure of a Wallhammer gave an almost imperceptible nod. Its bulky combat armor flickered with the bluish glow of an energy shield enveloping it, protecting it from the rebels' desperate shots.

Without a word, the Wallhammer raised its imposing combat shotgun and aimed at a group of insurgents attempting to flee the ruined hall. A volley of high-velocity projectiles roared forth from the barrel with a deafening boom.

The rebels' bodies jerked violently from the impacts, like puppets whose strings had been abruptly severed. Several of them fell instantly, riddled with multiple entry holes, while others desperately dragged themselves away, leaving a crimson trail in their wake.

"Good work." The Ordinal's voice was devoid of any recognizable emotion, as if praising a machine rather than a living being.

Suddenly, a thunderous rumble shook the ground beneath their armored feet. A concrete wall of the ruined hall crumbled like cardboard, opening a breach through which an imposing Combine APC barged in unceremoniously.

The armored vehicle lumbered forward with its characteristic lack of grace, its wheels crushing debris underfoot. On top, its rotating machine gun began to slowly swivel, taking aim at the remaining rebels desperately seeking cover.

"Fire at will!" was the last order the Ordinal issued before the APC unleashed its rain of death.

Dark energy rounds spewed forth at breakneck speed, sweeping the ruined hall like a merciless reaper. Any rebel caught in its path was quite literally shredded, their bodies disintegrating in an explosion of flesh and bone.

The makeshift barricades the insurgents had frantically constructed were mere trifles against the vehicle's firepower. Tables, chairs, and debris flew through the air, turned into lethal projectiles by the impact of the energy rounds.

Within seconds, the hall that had once been a scene of weddings and celebrations became a slaughterhouse. Screams of agony and desperation filled the air, blending with the deafening roar of gunfire into a macabre symphony.

When the last rebel fell, his mangled and unrecognizable body joining the rest, the Ordinal signaled the driver to cease fire. A sepulchral silence hung over the scene, broken only by the hissing of steam from the still-hot barrels.

The Ordinal performed a quick visual sweep of the area, its infrared sensors scanning for any remaining signs of life. Satisfied with detecting none, it turned towards the Wallhammer and the APC once more.

"Clean-up completed. Advance to the next objective." Its voice was as cold as steel, devoid of any trace of emotion or remorse.

As the APC bulldozed its way through the mutilated corpses, crushing the remains underfoot without a second thought, the Ordinal and Wallhammer set into motion, beginning to trail behind the APC to continue their relentless advance through City 17's streets.

On the third monitor, the narrative shifted in tone and scope. The footage captured the horrific sight of a Strider on a street near City 17's main bridge. The towering synthetic tripod creature, its blade-like legs unflinching, skewered an unarmed civilian who dared take up arms against it.

The deafening whirr of its biomechanical growls drowned out the man's agonized screams as life drained from him. With cold, calculated indifference, the Strider swiveled its Warp cannon toward a nearby, previously anonymous dwelling that sheltered a group of wounded rebels.

"Damned monster!" A woman insurgent's anguished cry rose above the din, only to be silenced by a nearby explosion as the Warp cannon discharged its devastating payload.

The dark-skinned rebel with a defiant glare was the sole survivor. Her comrades had perished in a desperate attempt to stop the Strider with their antiquated weapons. Now, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an RPG lying on the ground, belonging to one of her fallen brothers.

The anti-tank weapon was in dire condition, dented and cracked from the Strider's previous barrages against them. But determination burned in the insurgent's chest, and she refused to die without leaving her mark on that three-legged monstrosity.

"You won't get away with this, you bastard!" She growled through gritted teeth, eyes burning with barely restrained fury.

With trembling yet steady hands, the rebel scooped up the rocket launcher and rested it against her shoulder. The weight of the weapon bore down on her like a grim reminder of what was at stake. She knew her chances of success were practically nil, yet she refused to surrender without a fight.

Squinting her eyes, she aligned the sights with the towering Strider looming some thirty meters away. The fifteen-meter-tall biomechanical creature was impossible to miss, especially as it began scaling an apartment building like a giant spider, coming to a stop by one of the windows.

The Strider's pulse cannon came to life, raining down a hail of dark energy projectiles that shattered the glass and undoubtedly massacred any rebels taking shelter inside. After completing its work of destruction, the creature detached from the building and returned to the street below, its metallic whine reverberating like a challenge.

The rebel swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She knew she only had one rocket, and her Glock would be useless against the Strider's reinforced armor. But she couldn't give up, not when so many had sacrificed their lives in this battle.

"I'm sending you back to the hell you crawled out of, you piece of scrap," she muttered through clenched teeth, her voice laced with determination.

With one last glance at the Strider, which seemed to be evaluating its next move, the rebel squeezed the rocket launcher's trigger. A deafening boom shook the air as the missile burst forth, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.

The projectile whistled through the air, straight towards its target. The rebel held her breath, squinting as she watched the rocket close the distance...

"Take that, you three-legged bitch!" The rebel roared, her voice thick with barely contained fury as she watched the rocket strike the Strider's side in a direct hit.

A thunderous explosion rocked the air, kicking up a cloud of debris and dust that momentarily obscured the scene. The woman shielded her eyes with her forearm, protecting herself from the rain of shrapnel that surrounded her.

When the cloud finally settled, the Strider remained standing, though its side armor was dented and cracked from the impact. A dark, viscous, greenish fluid oozed from the fissures, dripping onto the pavement as if the biomechanical creature was bleeding.

"What the hell...?" The rebel let out a choked curse, her eyes wide as she realized her last rocket had not been enough to bring down the metal titan.

With a defiant roar, as if sensing her disbelief, the Strider swiveled its massive body towards her. Its blade-like legs drilled into the ground, leaving deep gouges in their wake as it advanced relentlessly.

"Damn it! Stay back!" The rebel backpedaled several steps, her gaze frantically darting between the Strider and her Glock, weighing her desperate options.

Despite her bravery, it was impossible not to feel a chill of fear coursing through her as the fifteen-meter-tall creature closed in. Its biomechanical whine, an amalgam of metallic growls and pneumatic hisses, reverberated in her ears like the lament of a monster straight out of hell itself.

"Back off, you freakish piece of shit!" The woman yelled, aiming her pistol at the Strider in a futile gesture. The 9mm rounds would bounce harmlessly off that reinforced armor, but she refused to die without fighting back.

The Strider, however, seemed unfazed by her bravado. It continued its relentless advance, its tripedal legs tripling the distance with each step as it loomed over her, blotting out the rays of the setting sun.

The rebel swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she felt the Strider's imposing shadow envelop her. She looked up, taking in the massive form towering above her like a cliff of steel and cables.

"What are you waiting for, you tin can?" She spat defiantly, though her voice wavered slightly. "Are you going to finish me off or what?"

In response, the Strider let out a roar that shook the ground beneath the woman's feet. Its Warp cannon began to glow with a blinding light, gathering the destructive energy that would soon turn her to ashes.

The rebel gritted her teeth, refusing to look away from her imminent executioner. If she was going to die, she would do it with dignity, facing her fate head-on.

"Go to hell, monster!" Those were her last words before she opened fire with her Glock, unloading the puny ammunition against the Strider in a defiant but futile gesture.

The bullets bounced harmlessly off the reinforced armor, leaving not even a scratch. The Strider didn't even seem to notice, focused as it was on building up the destructive energy of its Warp cannon.

When the beam finally discharged, the rebel only had time to squeeze her eyes shut before the dark energy ray struck her full force, disintegrating her body in a matter of nanoseconds.

She didn't even have a chance to scream...

Breen watched it all unfold while still listening to the other Advisors' mutterings, complaining about how the Overwatch forces were proving useless at stopping the rebel uprising despite their cybernetic enhancements, superior weaponry and training compared to the rebels.

They cared not for more victories shown on the screen. What good were those victories if the uprising was still allowed to happen successfully?

"It is unacceptable that the Overwatch forces continue to display this ineptitude!" One Advisor's telepathic voice boomed in Breen's mind, thick with disgust. "Have we invested resources and time in cybernetically enhancing these Earth worms only for them to fail miserably against a pitiful rebellion?"

Another Advisor joined the chorus of complaints, its tone equally disdainful. "Perhaps we should have kept the expeditionary force that conquered this planet in the first place. At least they managed to crush the human military forces within hours."

"Ridiculous!" A third voice interjected, its indignation nearly palpable. "Those troops were trained for centuries on the fiercest battlefields of the known multiverse and tempered to their utmost potential. How dare you compare them to these... transhuman abominations?"

The first Advisor hissed in disgust. "The Administrator assured us the Overwatch forces would be more than sufficient to maintain control over this insignificant mudball. Where is their vaunted superiority now that a simple worm uprising has them on the brink of collapse?"

"Perhaps we should consider reinforcing them with garrison troops from other conquered worlds," suggested a fourth Advisor, its voice dripping with cold calculation. "Battle-hardened soldiers, not these transhuman mockeries that can barely contain a handful of insurgents."

The criticisms kept flowing, each more scathing than the last. The Advisors held nothing back as they expressed their disdain for the Overwatch forces' performance, questioning their training, equipment, and even their very existence.

"What if we simply increased their cybernetic enhancements?" One of them proposed, his tone mocking. "Perhaps we should turn them into killing machines devoid of any semblance of humanity, even more so than they already are. At least then we won't have to worry about their lack of determination."

Another Advisor scoffed at the suggestion. "And what guarantee do we have that even then they won't fail? No, what we need is to purge these defective forces entirely and replace them with something truly worthy of the Alliance."

The voices intertwined into a chorus of scorn and disdain, each one more cutting than the last. The Advisors showed no mercy as they criticized the Overwatch forces, questioning every aspect of their existence and preparation.

Throughout it all, Breen remained in tense silence, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ground together. Each word, each insult, felt like a direct stab at his pride and determination.

He knew he could not openly rebut the Advisors, for his position as Administrator hung by a thread, and any show of insubordination could be his death sentence. So he settled for clenching his fists, his nails digging into his palms, as he stoically weathered the torrent of criticism.

Yet within his mind, a flame of fury burned intensely. He refused to accept that the Overwatch forces were a failure, not after all the work and resources that had been poured into them. He had to find a way to prove their worth, to show that they were more than mere "transhuman abominations," as the Advisors disdainfully called them.

As the telepathic voices continued to assail him, Breen began plotting strategies in his mind, ways to redeem the Overwatch forces and silence his critics once and for all. No matter what it took, he would ensure this uprising was crushed without mercy.

After all, his very life depended on it.

Breen, his discomfort palpable after hearing the Advisors' scathing criticisms, resigned himself once more to the psionic entities, though his respect sounded strained and tense.

"My esteemed lords," he began, his voice laced with a mixture of fear and composure as he tried to conceal his growing anxiety. "I swear to you that I will redouble my severity against the rebels. I beg that you grant me, and my humble species, one more chance to prove our worth and deserve the trust you have placed in us."

The last words left his lips with a slight tremble, as if he feared this would be his final opportunity before facing the consequences of failure. A tense silence descended over the room as the Advisors exchanged glances through the monitors, engaged in a telepathic conversation in their own cryptic language.

Their voices reverberated in Breen's mind as an unintelligible murmur, creating an atmosphere of overwhelming uncertainty. Each second that ticked by felt like an eternity, anxiety gnawing at the former Black Mesa Administrator's gut.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by the arrival of an elite Alliance soldier. His imposing figure, clad in an immaculate white suit and a single crimson ocular visor helmet, barged into the office with a presence that demanded respect.

"Permission to speak, sirs." The elite soldier's voice rang out in the office, every word spoken with an almost inhuman coldness. He stood with impeccable military rigidity, his pristine white suit and single red ocular visor helmet unmoving.

The Advisors nodded their approval, their gazes fixed on the imposing figure of the transhuman soldier. He took a step forward, his stance firm and unwavering.

"I bring encouraging news," the elite soldier began, his tone devoid of any emotional inflection. "We have regained control of City 2, City 6, and City 8. Additionally, Asia and Oceania have been brought back under our dominion."

A calculated pause as the soldier gauged his superiors' reactions. Perceiving no sign of interruption, he continued his report.

"The insurgents in those regions have been neutralized, and any civilians rescued or evacuated are receiving proper medical attention." Every word was a sharp blade of military efficiency. "Meanwhile, our forces continue to advance in other areas, clearing any enemy that stands in our way."

The elite soldier paused almost imperceptibly before continuing. "In City 17, the rebels are entrenched to the north. We anticipate regaining full control of the city within a matter of hours. As for Africa, only isolated pockets of resistance remain, which will be swiftly eliminated."

A slight nod from the Advisors indicated they had grasped the information. The elite soldier remained steadfast, awaiting any further instructions.

From his position, Dr. Breen observed the exchange with a mixture of relief and anxiety. A silent sigh escaped his lips as he heard the encouraging news, though no one seemed to notice. A glimmer of hope began to take root in his mind, fueling the possibility that the Advisors might change their perception of the Overwatch forces' capabilities.

One of the Advisors then stepped forward, its telepathic voice resonating in Breen's mind with an almost overwhelming intensity. "It's a promising start, but we must not declare victory yet. The uprising in City 17 has yet to be fully quelled."

Another voice joined the conversation, its tone laced with skepticism. "Certainly, we have seen before how the Overwatch forces have achieved initial gains only to falter at the first sign of organized resistance."

The elite soldier remained impassive in the face of the criticisms, his stance as unmoving as a steel statue. No emotion crossed his concealed features, no muscle tensed in any sign of offense.

One of the Advisors, its voice ringing with relentless authority, stepped forward to question the elite soldier. "It is true you have made some progress, but at a substantial cost, is it not?"

The transhuman soldier remained unfazed, his rigid posture unwavering. "We have suffered casualties, of course, but nothing our forces cannot easily replenish."

"And what of civilian losses?" Another psionic voice interjected, laced with cold, detached calculation. "The human population of this planet is a valuable resource, one we cannot afford to waste needlessly."

At this observation, the elite soldier made a slight gesture with his gloved hand. "We have taken all necessary precautions to minimize collateral damage. However, it is inevitable that some civilians would be harmed or displaced during the cleansing operations."

A telepathic hiss of disgust filled Breen's mind as he watched the exchange with growing anxiety. He knew any sign of weakness would be mercilessly exploited by the ruthless Advisors.

"Hard numbers, soldier?" The first Advisor's voice cut through the air like a sharpened knife. "We need precise figures to evaluate the impact on the workforce and production capacity."

The elite soldier did not hesitate for an instant before responding. "According to our latest estimates, we have recorded approximately twenty thousand civilian casualties in the recovered cities, with an additional fifty thousand displaced individuals who will require resettlement."

A tense silence descended over the room as the Advisors processed this information. Breen held his breath, fearing these numbers might be deemed unacceptable.

Finally, another Advisor spoke, its tone cold and detached. "Those are significant figures, but manageable in the grand scheme. As long as the industrial infrastructure and production centers have not sustained substantial damage, the loss of manpower can be compensated for."

"Preliminary reports indicate most key facilities remain intact," the elite soldier confirmed, unfazed. "We have prioritized the protection of production centers and supply routes during our operations."

A slight collective nod from the Advisors indicated their approval of this priority. Breen felt a small knot of tension loosen in his chest as he realized the civilian casualties, while regrettable, did not seem to be a deciding factor for them.

"Very well, then." The first Advisor's voice rang out once more. "We will continue monitoring the situation closely. But be warned, we will not tolerate any further delays or failures from the Overwatch forces."

The elite soldier inclined his head ever so slightly, his rigid posture and unflappable stance remaining as the lights of his crimson ocular visor flickered almost imperceptibly. "Understood, sirs. The Overwatch forces will not disappoint you." He paused calculatedly, allowing his words laced with determination to sink into the Advisors' minds.

Then, as if flicking a switch, his voice reverted to its monotone, detached tone. "However, I have another matter of utmost importance to report."

A tense silence descended over the control room, the air thick with palpable tension. Breen watched the transhuman soldier with growing unease, his mind racing as he tried to anticipate what new complication lay ahead.

"What is it?" he finally asked, unable to contain his impatience any longer. His voice sounded slightly frazzled, betraying the growing anxiety that gripped him.

"Our monitoring systems have detected an unprecedented energy fluctuation in one of City 17's outskirt parks." The elite soldier did not falter as he shared the latest development, his voice devoid of any emotional inflection. "Readings indicate a sizeable interdimensional breach has formed."

"An interdimensional breach?" Breen's voice carried a hint of exasperation, almost sighing in frustration. "Great, just what I needed this month."

Humanity was more than familiar with the perils and anomalies associated with interdimensional breaches. The Resonance Cascade disaster at the Black Mesa Complex was still fresh in the collective memory, a grim reminder of what could be unleashed when tampering with forces beyond human understanding.

"The footage captured by our still-intact security cameras shows a structure resembling the entrance to an ancient Roman colosseum, which must be connected to the interdimensional breach detected," the elite soldier continued, his tone devoid of any nuance. "At least according to what we have recorded in our databases."

A brief silence fell as the information was relayed to the Advisors for analysis. Breen held his breath, watching anxiously as the psionic beings studied the newly acquired data, their minds working at superhuman speeds.

"Tell me which park and the camera number," Breen finally ordered, his tone betraying a mixture of urgency and barely concealed frustration.

The elite soldier obeyed without hesitation, providing the requested details with military precision. Breen then switched the feed from the battlefields to the live security camera footage focused on the mysterious gateway.

The sight was disconcerting, to say the least. An imposing structure built from grey stones and adorned with arches and columns rose in the middle of the park, a monument out of place and time. Its architecture evoked ancient Roman coliseums, with a monumental main arch that seemed to be the entrance to an unknown realm.

Breen frowned, his mind struggling to process the incongruity of what he was witnessing. How was it possible for a construction of that magnitude to have appeared out of nowhere in the heart of City 17? The mere idea defied all logic and comprehension.

The Advisors, their gazes fixed on the images, resumed their whispering discussions. Some of their telepathic voices betrayed the incredulity and confusion this new anomaly caused them.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" The voice of one Advisor resonated in Breen and the soldier's minds, thick with skepticism. "A Roman gate? Seriously? Who or what could be stupid enough to open an interdimensional portal in such a manner?"

Another Advisor joined the conversation, its tone tinged with sarcasm. "Perhaps they're such a primitive civilization that they believe this is the proper way to travel between universes. Should we send a welcoming party with togas and laurels?"

Despite the tension of the situation, the psionic voices couldn't help but let out a few mocking laughs at the idea. The incongruity of it all was so absurd that it became almost comical, at least to the Advisors accustomed to dealing with interdimensional anomalies regularly from their species' tenure in the Universal Union.

"Wait, wait..." Another Advisor interjected, its voice laced with caution. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Remember, we've faced even stranger phenomena in our campaigns across the multiverse."

A murmur of assent rippled through the room, though a hint of skepticism still lingered in some voices. After all, the Alliance was the only known civilization capable of controlled and efficient interdimensional travel. This manifestation in the form of a gate seemed anything but efficient.

"True," another Advisor concurred, its tone taking on a more serious edge. "But we cannot deny that this... 'gate' is a folly. Why bother opening an interdimensional portal on solid ground, instead of doing it from the sky or deep space? It's an absurd and inefficient tactic."

"Imagine the look on their faces when, instead of an army of Roman legionnaires, they encounter our assault forces emerging from that gate." The Advisor's voice was laced with sadism, reveling in the vision of a naive civilization being crushed under the Alliance's merciless fist.

The psionic larvae, after indulging in a few more laughs at the incongruity of the situation, fixed their gaze through the video call on the human in the suit. They resumed their whispering discussions, analyzing the new data with a mixture of curiosity and caution. With time since their tenure on Earth, the Advisors had grown accustomed to human humor.

Finally, their gazes converged on the former Black Mesa Administrator, Breen. One of the telepathic voices resonated in his mind with a serious tone after the brief chuckle. "For now, Administrator, we entrust you with the responsibility of addressing this issue. In approximately two days, we will contact you again to receive your report on the situation with this 'interdimensional portal' in the form of a gate, and to deliver our verdict regarding a second chance for humanity."

The screens flickered and went blank, leaving behind a monotonous blue that contrasted with the ongoing battle footage still playing. The images showed the gradual formation of the mysterious gate, with helicopters and Gunships swirling overhead as they headed towards the remaining rebel strongholds.

Breen, overwhelmed by the weight of events, sank into his chair, clutching his head in both hands in a gesture of pain and exhaustion. In those tumultuous moments, a confluence of events was unfolding simultaneously, threatening to overwhelm his ability to maintain control.

Taking a deep breath, the Administrator composed himself and activated his communicator. "Deploy Striders and Gunships, accompanied by a sizable Overwatch troop force. We are unwilling to take unnecessary risks." His voice rang with authority, though a slight tremble betrayed his concern. "We have enough with the insurgency; we will not allow new threats to interfere with humanity's destiny."

It was imperative to demonstrate to his benefactors that preserving human life was not a futile investment of resources. Earth had to remain a valuable asset for the Alliance, and any external threat had to be neutralized without hesitation.

"Understood, sir." The elite soldier's voice responded through the communicator, every word spoken with cold military efficiency. "However, it's important to mention that it will take some time to prepare our forces, as our troops are fully engaged in addressing the last vestiges of the rebellion. Nevertheless, we will send Civil Protection to handle the perimeter for the time being."

Breen nodded to himself, his mind already plotting contingency plans. "Understood, but expedite the preparations and increase the production of synthetic units within the Citadel. We will need additional reinforcements to maintain a solid front on both fronts."

He paused, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the growing migraine plaguing him. "Also..." He added with a slight pleading tone. "I want to be sent some headache medication... If I don't die from some mishap, I'll die from this migraine."

A slight nod from the elite soldier indicated he had received the order. "It will be attended to immediately, Administrator."

The white-clad transhuman nodded coldly and left the office, striding resolutely towards the control room. His black boots echoed with a hollow sound through the empty corridors, a reminder of the relentless artificial determination that drove every one of his movements.

Breen remained seated in his chair, his eyes fixed on the footage still playing on the monitors. The sight of the Roman gate, with its antiquated and out-of-place architecture, was a disconcerting enigma that threatened to further destabilize the precarious situation in City 17.

Was it a new threat, an unknown civilization with the ability to cross interdimensional barriers in such an abrupt and unexpected manner? Or perhaps, as the Advisors had suggested, it was simply another anomaly in the vast tapestry of the multiverse, an incongruity that would eventually be unraveled and controlled.

Whatever the answer, Breen knew he could not afford to fail in this task. His life, and possibly the fate of all humanity, hung by a thread. It was time to prove his worth, to show that Earth deserved a place in the Alliance, even if it meant facing threats that defied his understanding.

Location: Earth, South Zone of City 17.

Meanwhile, on one of the few streets in City 17 that remained intact, at least the pavement still standing, a detachment of approximately four thousand Civil Protection officers advanced with determined strides. Ninety percent were men heading north of the city to support the remaining troops in eliminating the last rebel stronghold.

The acrid stench of ashes and charred flesh permeated the air as they marched through the debris. Some Strider corpses lay scattered among the wreckage, barely visible beneath the mountain of rubble covering them. Several mangled Hunter Choppers and Gunships stood as mute witnesses to a fierce battle that had ravaged the area. But now, after intense fighting, control had once again fallen into the Alliance's hands, albeit at a considerable cost.

Occasionally, the Civil Protection officers would come across a straggling Headcrab attempting to hide among the debris. These were dispatched without hesitation, a well-placed shot ending their miserable existence.

The rumble of Civil Protection's armored vehicles, mostly APCs, reverberated through the deserted street, accompanied by the echoing footsteps of the individuals comprising the assault force. They were still a long march from their destination, and the Metrocops exchanged whispered words in a constant murmur as they advanced.

Suddenly, Overwatch's melodic female voice, the artificial intelligence in command who curiously shared the same name as the transhuman forces branch, made itself present through their encrypted communication channels.

"Previous orders have been modified and will be replaced by a new protocol. An unknown entity has materialized in the Dolina Onovlennya Park. Primary objective: establish a containment perimeter and keep the remaining civilian population at bay, though the probability of encountering civilians in the area is low."

There was a brief pause, as if the AI was assessing the troops' response before continuing. "Green-Three-Seven Code. You are authorized to use lethal force in case of encountering surviving nearby anti-citizens, although the probability of encountering active resistance is low. You will receive transhuman reinforcements and synthetic units within 1 hour and thirty minutes. Notify immediately of any out-of-the-ordinary activity you observe."

A slight murmur rippled through the ranks of Civil Protection officers at the mention of using lethal force. Some seemed invigorated at the prospect, while others exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to proceed with the possibility of having to open fire on civilians.

"No resistance from anti-citizens within the designated perimeter will be tolerated." Overwatch's voice resumed the transmission, cutting off any discussion before it could begin. "I repeat, maintain an airtight cordon around Dolina Onovlennya Park and notify of any anomalies detected."

The elite Metrocops leading the formation acknowledged through their communicators as they altered their course towards the indicated park. The march of the units not riding inside the APCs became slow and fatigued, weariness starting to take its toll after the intense previous engagements.

"Omega-Two-Sword Code," Overwatch's voice rang out once more. "As an incentive, you will receive an increase in your non-reproductive credits upon successfully completing this mission."

In an instant, the Metrocops on foot began quickening their pace, fatigue magically disappearing upon hearing the mention of that coveted reward. Within seconds, the entire formation had kicked into a frantic rhythm, almost running towards their new objective.

The prospect of earning more credits to access the reproductive simulations, one of the few joys permitted in their controlled lives, was a powerful motivator. Even the most veteran officers, hardened by years of oppressive service, couldn't help the thrill those words evoked within them.

After all, in the dystopian world under the Alliance's control, life's most basic pleasures had become privileges reserved solely for those who demonstrated unwavering loyalty to the regime. And the opportunity to experience, even if simulated, the most fundamental act of humanity was a powerful incentive that no one could ignore.

Thus, with renewed vigor, the Civil Protection force advanced through the ruins of City 17, determined to complete their mission and claim the promised reward. The echo of their boots rang in a frantic rhythm, blending with the rumbling engines of the APCs following close behind.

Ten minutes later

The Civil Protection officers marched with firm strides, their boots striking the pavement in a steady beat that reverberated between the crumbled buildings. The prospect of earning more credits for the coveted reproductive simulations spurred them on at a frantic pace, despite the fatigue that was starting to take its toll on their exhausted bodies.

As they neared Dolina Onovlennya Park, a disconcerting sight materialized before them: a majestic Roman-style gate stood open in the center of the park, defying all laws of logic and common sense. Its grey stone arches rose imposingly, adorned with intricate moldings and columns that evoked the grandeur of a distant past.

"What the hell...?" The voice of one of the Metrocops from the back ranks echoed through the encrypted communication channels. "Is that the entity Overwatch was talking about?"

"A Roman gate?" Another officer responded with disbelief, his tone tinged with skepticism. "In the middle of the damn park? How is something like that even possible?"

"A gate? Seriously?" A third Metrocop let out a mocking laugh, shaking his head with evident disdain. "What's next? An army of Roman legionnaires with fantasy monsters coming out of there?"

Murmurs of confusion and skepticism rapidly spread through the ranks of Civil Protection. Some officers even came to a halt, staring at the incongruous structure with wide eyes behind their gas masks. The sight of that monumental gate, completely out of place in City 17's devastated surroundings, was something that defied all logic and understanding.

"Silence in the ranks!" The shout of one of the elite Metrocops rang out with authority, instantly quelling the murmurs. "Maintain formation and prepare to establish the containment perimeter, as you have been ordered."

Obeying the instructions, Civil Protection's armored vehicles deployed in a semi-circle around the gate, their swiveling machine guns aimed at the dark opening like a silent threat. The officers on foot took strategic positions, setting up heavy machine guns and adjusting the sights of their assault rifles.

As the minutes ticked by in tense silence, the space between the officers and the gate seemed to span a hundred meters, close enough to respond to any potential threat, but far enough to maintain a prudent safety margin.

"This is a containment operation, not a frontal assault," Overwatch's voice resonated through the channels, its tone firm but calm. "Hold your positions and be alert for any signs of activity at the gate."

Obeying the instructions to the letter, the officers on foot took strategic positions, setting up the remaining heavy machine guns and adjusting the sights of their assault rifles with precise, efficient movements.

"You two, reinforce that position!" One of the elite Metrocops pointed toward a corner of the perimeter where coverage seemed weakest. "And keep your eyes peeled! We don't know what the hell might come out of that damn gate."

Two officers nodded silently and hurried to obey, dragging a heavy machine gun to the indicated position. One of them crouched behind the mount, while the other prepared a spare ammo box, ready to reload if necessary.

"This is a containment operation, not a frontal assault," Overwatch's voice sounded again through the channels, its tone firm but calm, repeating the same line of dialogue. "Hold your positions and be alert for any signs of activity at the gate."

The Civil Protection officers nodded silently, their weapons ready to open fire at the slightest hint of danger. Some fidgeted restlessly, unable to conceal their nervousness at the prospect of facing an unknown threat that had emerged from nowhere in one of the devastated city's parks.

An hour and a half ticked by without incident, the Civil Protection officers holding firm in their assigned positions around the established perimeter. Some, unable to resist the accumulated fatigue after the intense previous engagements, had dozed off at their posts, only to be abruptly awakened by their superiors' shouts or Overwatch's impersonal voice over the communication channels.

"Hey, Jorgito," one officer's distorted voice broke the tense silence, "what's your take on this whole thing?"

Jorge, a burly veteran Metrocop, turned to his comrade John with an inquisitive look. "Truth be told, my friend, this is turning out to be pretty fucking monotonous." He paused, sweeping his gaze over the ravaged park that stretched before them. "I almost wish we were facing those rebel idiots instead of standing guard at this entrance."

"Yeah, I feel you, brother," John nodded with a slight shrug. "Though it may be tedious, it's still preferable to facing death at the hands of those bastards."

Jorge let out a mocking snort. "You've got a point there. I'd rather be here than end up with a bullet hole in my head." His eyes narrowed behind the gas mask as he regarded the imposing Roman gate. "Though I must admit, considering this structure appeared out of nowhere, I wonder if the Resistance had anything to do with it."

John shook his head, an incredulous laugh escaping his lips. "Come on, brother, don't talk nonsense. I don't think those assholes would have had the time to build a Roman-style gate of these dimensions without us detecting them."

"You make a fair point there." Jorge loosened his grip on the machine gun slightly and turned his gaze toward his comrade. "It was a mistake on my part to even consider that possibility. But anyway, what do you plan to do once everything goes back to normal?"

John shrugged, his gaze distant. "I think I'll just spend some quality time with my wife. You know, enjoy those little moments of peace before hell breaks loose again."

"It's a comfort to know that one of the benefits of belonging to Civil Protection is ensuring the safety of our loved ones in times like these," Jorge mused, surveying the deplorable state of the park after the recent bombardments, with multiple fallen trees, shattered sidewalks, and the like. "Do you remember how this place used to be before our benefactors arrived? A true oasis in the heart of the city."

"I agree..." John nodded wistfully. "And you, got any special plans? Maybe invite your old man for a few beers? If that's the case, make sure not to forget to invite me too." He added with a mocking chuckle.

Jorge let out a gruff laugh. "Do you doubt my generosity, kid? Of course, I'll invite you. After all, what would a good gathering be without my mutated rat of a friend by my side?"

The two officers exchanged conspiratorial glances behind their masks, allowing themselves a brief moment of camaraderie amid the chaos surrounding them. Despite the oppressive circumstances they found themselves in, they still retained that spark of humanity that kept them united, that unbreakable friendship forged in the trenches of endless conflict.

"Hey, remember that time we had to chase those rebel bastards all over the residential district?" John let out a snicker, clearly relishing the memory. "The idiot Ramírez nearly fell out of a window trying to catch them."

"How could I forget?" Jorge roared with laughter, his body shaking with each guffaw. "The dumbass got stuck halfway through, screaming like a baby until we managed to pull him out."

The two friends, Jorge and John, fell abruptly silent upon hearing Overwatch's call to attention, their laughter and banter forgotten in an instant. Their focus shifted to the torchlight and human silhouettes approaching from within the imposing Roman gate, though the darkness still obscured a clear view.

"Hold your positions!" The distorted voice of an elite Metrocop resonated through the communication channels. "Prepare to use lethal force if the situation turns hostile!"

From the gate's entrance, enigmatic silhouettes could be seen advancing with firm, determined strides. The Civil Protection officers kept their weapons trained on the opening, fingers tensing on the triggers in anticipation.

In the armored vehicles, the operators rushed to prepare their rocket launcher systems, the metal tubes swiveling toward the gate in an implicit threat. The most veteran Metrocops, leaders of their own squads, positioned themselves at the front of their teams, ready to lead the assault should a hostile contingency arise.

The tension in the air thickened with every passing second. The enigmatic figures advanced with measured steps toward the gate, their dark outlines becoming more defined as they neared, weaving an aura of anticipation among the police and soldiers.

"Attention, potential hostiles emerging!" Overwatch's voice resonated with urgency. "Prepare to open fire at will!"

An elite Metrocop, his uniform bearing slight reddish tones and slightly more adorned than his subordinates in some parts of the suit, stepped forward a few paces for a better view. In his gloved hand, he gripped an MP5K, a higher-caliber weapon than the SMGs and Glock-19s carried by the lower-ranking officers.

After a brief moment of tension, the gate swung open wide, and an astonishing sight emerged: a reptilian creature of considerable size, large enough to surpass the width and height of an APC, with majestic wings, emerged amid barely audible roars to take flight into the sky.

"By Satan's balls!" exclaimed one of the Metrocops, his voice charged with a mixture of awe and fear. "Is that a fucking dragon?"

The members of Civil Protection watched with fascination and bewilderment what appeared to be a miniature Wyvern, a winged dragon of legend, clad in dark armor tinged with purple. Its outstretched wings sliced through the air with lethal grace, while its scaly body twisted in fluid, powerful movements.

"A Wyvern indeed?" Another agent exclaimed, awestruck by the mythical creature that had emerged from nowhere. "Damn, I thought those things only existed in stories!"

"Someone seems to be riding it!" Another Metrocop cried out in alarm, and the others turned to behold the scene: a human clad in Roman-style armor and clutching a spear rode atop the small dragon as its intrepid rider.

The Wyvern and its rider circled broadly, as if assessing them from above. The creature let out guttural roars that shook the air, while its rider remained unperturbed, spear pointed towards the Civil Protection forces until it charged towards them.

"Open fire at will! I repeat, open fire at will!" The elite Metrocop's shout resounded with authority through the encrypted channels. "Do not let those creatures approach any further!"

With reckless bravery, the rider urged his faithful winged mount to charge towards a nearby Civil Protection officer. The imposing Wyvern opened its jaws, ready to devour the hapless official with its razor-sharp fangs. Meanwhile, the human rider aimed his spear with proud determination at another Metrocop in the vicinity.

The ground officers remained in stunned shock, paralyzed by the sight of the mythical beast that had emerged from the gate. Their weapons hung limp at their sides, unable to react to the imminent threat.

Gripped with panic, one of the closest Metrocops fired his handgun at the Wyvern, but the low-caliber bullets bounced harmlessly off the beast's resilient scales. With supernatural speed and ferocity, the winged dragon bit into the officer's chest, cleaving him in two with a lethal snap of its jaws.

The heart-rending sound of flesh being torn and bones shattering filled the air, mingling with the officer's agonized screams as his life ebbed away. The crackle of static from the fallen agent's gas mask, along with Overwatch's impersonal voice notifying the casualty, jolted the rest of the forces from their initial shock.

"Code Red! Casualties confirmed! I repeat, casualties confirmed! Unit 3497 is down!" The AI resonated with cold urgency. "All units, open fire on the hostiles immediately!"

The rider, intoxicated by the thrill of combat, attempted to skewer his next target with his spear. But the agile Metrocop managed to dodge the lethal blow, seizing the wooden shaft alongside those beside him with their gloved hands. With a coordinated shove, they wrenched the spear from the rider's grasp, unseating him from his winged mount in the process.

In that critical instant, one of the nearby APC's swiveling machine guns opened fire, unleashing a hail of dark plasma energy rounds. The Wyvern roared in agony as the projectiles began piercing its scaly hide, ripping through its flesh with terrifying ease.

The winged beast thrashed on the ground, its blood spattering the pavement as it desperately tried to escape the deadly crossfire. But it was futile. The dark energy rounds kept slamming mercilessly, tearing off chunks of flesh and blasting its scales in a grotesque display of destruction.

Within seconds, the Wyvern became a harrowing spectacle of shredded flesh and exposed bone. With one final agonized roar, the winged creature crashed to the ground, its mutilated body convulsing in final spasms before lying forever still.

The rider, who had been thrown from his mount during the assault on the second officer, watched the scene with bulging eyes, unable to process the swift, violent death of his winged companion. His shock lasted only an instant, for a well-aimed shot from one of the Metrocops blew off his helmeted head in an explosion of blood and bone.

"Hostiles neutralized," Overwatch's voice rang out once more, this time with a cold, detached tone of satisfaction.

The Civil Protection officers, still stunned from the brief battle, obeyed orders almost by rote. Some approached cautiously to gaze upon the shredded remains of the Wyvern, gazing with fascination and dread at the felled creature.

"What the hell was that?" One of the Metrocops let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did that bug come out of that gate?"

"No, you idiot, it came from space. Of course it came out of the gate!" Another officer responded, his voice slightly trembling but sarcastic behind the gas mask. "But whatever it was, I never want to see one of those things again in my life."

Murmurs of bewilderment and fear spread through the ranks of Civil Protection as the officers exchanged nervous glances. They had faced all manner of threats during the rebel insurrection, but nothing had prepared them for something so... abnormal.

Aware of the hostile situation after the Wyvern's attack, everyone present aimed their weapons towards the gate once more, now teeming with beings that seemed to have escaped from fantasy tales: ogres, trolls, orcs, elves, dwarves, pig-men, even women with natural rabbit ears - a notable sight. All of them, with the exception of the ogres, orcs, trolls, goblins, and pig-men, as well as the humans in Roman armor and weapons, looked on with a certain sadness and reluctance to fight, as if being forced against their will.

"This has to be a damn joke! They're creatures straight out of children's stories!" Jorge exclaimed, his disbelief palpable in his words.

"What's so surprising? Haven't we faced two alien invasions twenty years ago?" John replied to his friend, whose fear was evident in the face of the overwhelming number of enemies.

Amidst the crowd gathered at the outskirts of the Roman-garbed army, an imposing figure emanated an aura of authority and power. His golden armor glistened under the sun's rays, radiating an intensity that clearly set him apart from the others present. Upon his head, an ornate helmet added an extra touch to his commanding presence.

Mounted gracefully atop a majestic white steed, the man seemed more than a mere warrior; he seemed a natural leader who had emerged from the pages of history. Every glance, every gesture carried with it a determination that inspired both respect and fear. His eyes, hidden behind a steely gaze, scanned the horizon with an intensity that spoke of his focus on the mission that had brought him to this remote place.

As anticipation seized the gathered crowd, the general, an elderly man with wrinkles etched by countless battles fought, unsheathed an ancient scroll that had been carefully rolled up. The wind whispered as he unfurled the parchment, revealing characters in an unknown language that flickered as if alive. A series of words began to flow from his lips in a resounding, grave tone.

With a voice that thundered, filling the space between him and the bewildered multitude, the general interrupted his mysterious recitation and proclaimed his message with authority.

"Listen well, inhabitants of this primitive world! I am General Secundus Ro Pollio, your conqueror!" General Secundus Ro Pollio's voice resounded with authority, somehow managing to reach the Metrocops despite the distance.

"The vast and glorious Empire has traversed the barriers of space and time to reclaim what is rightfully ours by divine decree!" He paused deliberately, his gaze encompassing the bewildered crowd with barely veiled disdain, as if regarding mere insects that dared defy him.

Raising his sword in a defiant gesture, the steel of the blade glinted menacingly in the dying rays of the setting sun. "You are being given the opportunity to surrender to us, to avoid unnecessary casualties! Accept this display of mercy, or we shall have to claim this world as ours by force of arms!"

His mount, a majestic white steed, reared slightly at its rider's movement. The General reined in the animal with an expert hand, never taking his gaze off the silent Civil Protection forces facing him.

"If you choose to submit, you need only bow before the Empire's supremacy." A hint of condescension tinged his words as he continued, his voice laden with arrogance. "You must accept becoming our vassals, paying tribute to our Empire. The tribute can be metals, minerals, and even slaves."

Straightening his imposing figure, the General swept his gaze over those present as if they were mere ants at his feet. "We are being merciful in granting you this opportunity by the grace of Emroy, our almighty god. Those who refuse to accept their destiny as our subjects shall be crushed without mercy beneath the weight of our unstoppable advance."

His sword, a masterpiece forged from a dark, gleaming metal, rose into the air in a gesture that seemed to defy even the elements. The glint of its blade caught the sun's light and reflected it in a blinding glare that bathed the onlookers in a brilliant cascade of golden flashes.

A tense silence descended over the scene as the General awaited a response, his defiant gaze sweeping the ranks of the Metrocops facing him. It was then that the first reactions began to manifest among the Civil Protection agents.

"Hey, Jorge..." John's voice came through the communication channel, laced with confusion. "Did you understand anything that old geezer in the shiny armor said?"

Jorge shook his head, his furrowed brow visible even through the gas mask. "Not a fucking word, buddy. It sounded like he swallowed a Latin dictionary and then vomited it all over us."

"You think he's threatening us?" Another Metrocop cut in, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "Because if that's the case, I couldn't give a shit what he says. I'm not bowing down to anyone, not even an old nutcase with delusions of grandeur."

"I don't know..." Jorge shrugged, his gaze alternating between the General and the beings accompanying him. "But if that asshole thinks we're going to hand over our weapons and become his slaves, he's crazier than a loon. Besides, our species already has a set owner unfortunately..."

After a few seconds of inaction from either side, the "Romans" spoke again. The General raised his gauntleted hand in an imperious gesture, demanding silence. His voice rang out once more, relentless and authoritative.

"Are you so ignorant that you cannot comprehend the honor being offered to you?" He spat with a hint of disdain. "The Empire offers you the opportunity to join our ranks as vassals! A chance to serve a superior civilization, to abandon your primitive lives and ascend to the greatness our Empire represents!"

Shaking his head with a mocking snort, the General let his gaze settle on the fantastical beings surrounding him. "Even these inferior creatures have accepted their fate and submitted to our will. Will you, beings who boast of being civilized, be surpassed in wisdom by trolls and ogres?"

A murmur of discontent rippled through the ranks of the magical beings, who exchanged uncomfortable glances at the General's disdainful words, which despite sounding "hollow," were still insulting. However, none dared openly contradict him.

"You have one last chance to accept our generous offer!" The General bellowed, his voice resonating like thunder. "Surrender now and swear fealty to the Empire, or you shall be swept from the face of this world without mercy!"

After another two tense minutes of silence, during which the Civil Protection agents awaited orders from Overwatch with weapons ready, General Secundus Ro Pollio raised his sword in a defiant gesture, weary of waiting for these savages to surrender. A war cry burst from his cracked lips, echoing through the air like the rumble of an approaching storm.

"For the glorious Empire!" The General's shout was the clarion call that unleashed utter chaos on the battlefield. "Slaughter these primitive insects and claim what is rightfully the Empire's by divine decree!"

With that order ringing in the charged air, the ranks of the imperial troops mobilized against the Civil Protection agents in a relentless advance. Glistening spears rose into the air, shields were raised in defensive positions, and the footfalls of the Roman soldiers thundered like a muffled roar as they prepared to carry out their leader's will.

The Metrocops' gazes met one last time, sharing a silent understanding as they assessed the magnitude of the challenge ahead. A murmur of readiness spread through their ranks as they assumed combat positions, fingers tightening on triggers in anticipation.

"Open fire at will!" The shout of one of the elite officers echoed through the encrypted communication channels, unleashing a deafening chaos that shook the foundations of the battlefield.

The thunderous gunfire erupted like an endless peal of thunder, creating a chaotic concert of fire and steel. The Civil Protection weapons unleashed their relentless onslaught, spewing forth bullets without respite. The rounds, both of dark energy and conventional lead, tore through the air with lethal precision, reaping the lives of countless imperial soldiers falling like autumn leaves in the wind.

The swiveling machine guns of the armored vehicles roared voraciously, unleashing an unending hail of plasma rounds that shredded the colossal ogres and demonic-looking beasts charging forward in blind fury. The endless cavalry hordes surged forth unrelentingly, only to be swept away by the concentrated firepower of the Combine forces.

Despite the overwhelming casualties suffered by the invaders, their advance persisted undaunted. The comrades of those who perished under enemy fire were swiftly replaced by fresh waves of reinforcements emerging from the gate, willing to sacrifice themselves for the Imperial Sadera's advance.

At that moment, the distance between the Civil Protection agents and the invading forces had narrowed from the initial hundred meters to about eighty. Yet the enemies seemed unable to fully cross the park's entrance due to the relentless hail of projectiles allowing them no quarter.

The dark energy machine guns, with their virtually unlimited ammunition supply, swept the enemy ranks unceasingly, ripping apart anyone foolish enough to approach. The corpses of the fallen began piling up at the park's entrance, forming a grisly barricade of flesh and bone that hindered the imperial troops' advance.

Another factor hampering the invaders' progress was their own overwhelming numbers. With so many soldiers and creatures attempting to cross the entrance simultaneously, chaos and congestion were inevitable, turning orderly ranks into a frenzied mass of bodies pushing and crushing each other in a macabre dance.

An ogre's roar echoed above the thundering gunfire, its voice charged with primal rage. The creature, with its green skin and gaping maw twisted in a menacing snarl, forced its way through the press of bodies, rending anyone who dared stand in its path with its bare hands. But as it emerged, its head exploded from a volley of shots fired by an APC.

Amidst this spectacle of unrelenting destruction, screams of agony and fury mingled with the roar of explosions and the whine of bullets, creating a macabre symphony that made the very air tremble. The earth was stained crimson with the blood of the fallen, while severed limbs splattered the ground in grotesque displays of violence.

"Keep firing, goddammit!" The roar of an elite Metrocop rang out above the chaos, his voice distorted by the gas mask. "Don't let those Romans get any closer!"

Obeying the order, the Civil Protection agents intensified their offensive, unleashing an unceasing hail of bullets and dark plasma energy rounds on the enemy ranks. Bodies dropped like rag dolls, shredded by the impacts, while blood splashed the ground in grotesque crimson spatters.

"Reloading, cover me!" The desperate shout of a Metrocop rose above the thunderous din of battle, his voice distorted by the gas mask he wore.

With trembling hands, the agent pulled several small compressed metal devices from his tactical belt. They were manhacks, flying tools designed to shred their targets with their razor-sharp spinning blades.

Without wasting an instant, the Metrocop tossed the devices into the air, where they quickly began to grow to roughly the size of a human head. The manhacks came to life with a menacing buzz, their blades reflecting the flashes of nearby explosions as they headed toward the enemies amidst the fray.

Around him, other Civil Protection agents followed suit, hurling more of those lethal flying tools into the enemy ranks. Some even launched explosive grenades from the underslung grenade launchers mounted on their SMGs, creating smoking craters on the battlefield.

For the soldiers of the Sadera Empire who managed to glimpse the deployment of the manhacks, the sight was bewildering and terrifying. It seemed as if a sorcerer had summoned his monstrous metal helpers, but in a deadlier version, to join the fray.

Meanwhile, farther back, in a rare moment of intelligence for an orc, one of the muscular green creatures forced its way through the press of bodies, smashing through one of the park's railings and part of the entrance with its massive fists.

This act of brute force opened a breach in the perimeter, allowing more Sadera Empire soldiers and creatures to spill out with less difficulty. Within seconds, other orcs, trolls, and ogres mimicked its action, widening the opening at the park's entrance even further.

The enemy ranks poured through the newly created breach, surging forward with renewed impetus toward the Civil Protection positions. The "Roman" soldiers, their armor glistening and shields raised, marched in tight formation, spears pointing ahead in a display of military discipline.

Behind them, the more bestial creatures of the Sadera Empire roared and snarled, their maws twisted into menacing snarls as they charged the Civil Protection agents without fear.

"Goddamn it, they're breaking through the park barriers!" The shout of alarm echoed through the encrypted communication channels. "All units, concentrate fire on the breach! Don't let them advance any further!"

Obeying orders, the Metrocops redirected their offensive toward the perimeter's opening, unleashing an unceasing hail of bullets and dark plasma projectiles on the enemies attempting to cross.

The swiveling machine guns of the armored vehicles roared with renewed vigor, sweeping the enemy ranks with a withering barrage of searing fire. The bodies of "Roman" soldiers dropped like rag dolls, their armor dented and perforated by the impacts. Even more resilient creatures like trolls and ogres jerked violently as they were struck by the dark energy rounds, their dark blood splashing the ground in grotesque displays.

Amidst the chaos, the manhacks danced a macabre choreography, buzzing through the air like killer bees. Their whirring blades shredded everything in their path, severing limbs and rending flesh with chilling ease, though some were destroyed by sword strikes.

A piercing scream rang out on the battlefield as one of the manhacks slammed into a "Roman" soldier's chest, its blades burying themselves in flesh and bone as if they were butter. The man convulsed violently, his gauntleted hands futilely trying to pry the lethal tool from his body, before collapsing lifeless in a pool of his own blood as his heart was sliced.

"Goddamned infernal bugs!" The thunderous roar of an ogre echoed across the battlefield, its voice charged with primal fury. Its coarse words, easily recognizable despite being unintelligible to the Metrocops.

The creature, its green skin covered in scars and its maw twisted into a menacing snarl, forced its way through the mass of bodies, rending anyone who dared stand in its path. Its massive feet, the size of cart wheels, crushed skulls and snapped bones with each ground-shaking step over the corpses, unaware of the cavalry positioning behind it, using the ogre as a living shield.

One of the manhacks launched itself at the ogre, its blades whirring at dizzying speeds. But the creature responded with a deafening roar, catching the lethal tool in its fist and crushing it with a squeeze of its fingers as if it were an empty can.

"That's all you got, sorcerers?" The ogre spat out a mocking laugh, its gruff voice rumbling like the echo of distant thunder. "You'll need more than flying pets to stop me!"

As if he had invoked a curse with his words, a barrage of stray dark energy rounds slammed into his chest from a machine gun, ripping off a fist-sized chunk of flesh. The creature howled in pain, its fury turning into blind rage as it charged towards the ranks of Civil Protection.

The Metrocops responded with a hail of gunfire, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off the ogre's toughened hide. It was then that one of the armored vehicles sprang into action, its swiveling machine gun aiming squarely at the beast.

A deafening roar shook the air as the weapon discharged its deadly payload, the dark energy rounds slamming into the ogre in a relentless barrage. The creature jerked violently, chunks of flesh from its upper body flying in all directions before it collapsed lifeless, its heavy bulk crushing those behind it - a group of knights who had used the ogre as an unwitting living shield.

The Civil Protection agents quickly caught on to the enemy's strategy, noticing the cavalry presence advancing behind the ogres, trolls and orcs. It was evident these bestial creatures were being used as meat shields to allow the more disciplined Sadera Empire forces to advance.

"Retarget the machine guns toward the orcs and other abominations!" An elite Metrocop's urgent message rang with authority through the encrypted channels. "The damn bastards are using those monstrosities as living shields to push against us!"

The warning spread like wildfire through Civil Protection's ranks, and the armored vehicles' swiveling machine guns shifted their angle of fire with precise, lethal movements. Their barrels focused on the larger, more resilient creatures trying to force their way through the hail of bullets, turning their bodies into cannon fodder to shield the "Roman" infantry trailing behind.

"And deploy the rocket launchers, now!" The same officer's voice, edged with blistering rage, resonated with renewed force. "That's why the fucking rocket launchers were incorporated onto the APCs, you idiots!"

Back at the interdimensional gate, thanks to the stronger demihumans' actions in widening the entrance breach, the rest of the Wyverns were able to pass through and take flight alongside their riders mounted on their backs.

Civil Protection's gazes turned skyward as the winged dragons soared menacingly overhead, trying to close in before the machine guns could shred them with curtains of dark plasma energy, creating a veil of death in the air. But the task was not easy, for the horde of enemies - a terrifying blend of fantasy and humanity - was relentless in its advance.

The rocket launchers mounted on the APCs responded to the order with a series of deafening blasts, and a deadly rain of projectiles ascended skyward like fiery spears, striking the Wyverns in mid-flight.

"What in blazes is that thing?" one of the riders wondered aloud, his voice tinged with curiosity as he watched the metal objects hurtling towards them at dizzying speeds, leaving trails of white smoke in their wake.

Before anyone could answer, one of the rockets slammed directly into a Wyvern, enveloping it and its rider in a searing ball of fire. The flames licked at their bodies with relentless ferocity, killing them within seconds under the stunned, horrified gaze of the other riders.

On the ground, the Civil Protection agents watched with a mixture of fascination as the Wyverns were shot down one by one by the rocket barrage. The winged beasts fell from the sky like meteors, crashing to the ground in earth-shaking thunders or bursting into bloody shreds from the rocket impacts.

"Those aren't normal weapons!" The voice of another rider rang out in disbelief, his eyes wide behind his helmet's visor. "It's as if those things have a mind of their own!"

"By Hardy's Maw!" The anguished cry of yet another rider echoed through the smoke-filled, charred flesh-scented air. "What kind of hellish sorcery is this?"

More rockets kept raining down relentlessly, downing the flaming winged dragons one after another. The riders desperately tried to maneuver and evade the projectiles, but they seemed to possess their own intelligence, tracking their movements with lethal precision as if guided by a dark spell.

"Those things are tracking us!" The terrified shout of one Sadera Empire rider rang across the battlefield. "It's as if they're alive!"

The man twisted frantically in his winged mount's saddle, barely avoiding one of the rockets that pursued them with supernatural accuracy. The trail of fire and smoke it left in its wake was a constant reminder of its devastating power.

"Goddammit, get out of the way!" Another rider roared in desperation, yanking on his Wyvern's reins to force an evasive maneuver.

The winged creature he rode bucked violently, its wings beating frantically as it tried to escape the relentless rockets that seemed to pursue them without respite. But it was futile - the projectiles adjusted their course with uncanny precision, closing the distance with every passing second.

Yet the rocket was relentless, adjusting its trajectory with an almost sinister intelligence. In an instant, the projectile found its mark, slamming into the winged dragon's side in a deafening explosion.

The searing flames engulfed the beast and its rider, fusing them in a lethal embrace of fire and molten metal. The man's agonized screams were lost amidst the thunderous din of battle, drowned out by the roar of explosions rocking the field.

On the ground, the rockets continued to pound the enemy ranks, specifically targeting the "Roman" soldier squadrons nearest the Civil Protection positions. The detonations shook the earth violently, kicking up massive clouds of smoke and debris that shrouded the battlefield in a thick, deadly fog.

"Damn it, those things are massacring us!" A "Roman" soldier's shout was muffled amidst the deafening roar, barely audible above the thunderous detonations and anguished wails of the fallen.

But despite the devastation wrought by the explosive projectiles, the invaders pushed on relentlessly, as if driven by some supernatural force or sheer foolhardiness that made them ignore the casualties they suffered. The ranks reformed again and again, closing the gaps left by the fallen with fresh reinforcements endlessly emerging from the interdimensional gate.

Back among Civil Protection's lines, the elite Metrocop hurled a grenade with lethal precision, its blast obliterating another cluster of imperial soldiers foolish enough to venture too close. Swiftly, the agent took cover behind a nearby APC, dodging a hail of arrows loosed by enemy archers.

With fluid, trained movements, the Metrocop peeked out from behind the armored cover and opened fire, his unerring shots reaping the lives of a small cluster of archers within seconds.

"Damn bastards, they keep coming!" The frustrated growl of one agent echoed through the communication channels. "How many are there in total? I swear we've taken down over a hundred thousand of those idiots already!"

"What does it matter how many there are?" Another Metrocop responded, his voice tinged with weariness and bitterness. "What really worries me is how much longer we'll have to hold out here before those cyber-enhanced troopers finish cleaning up the rebels in the north and come give us a hand."

As time wore on, the enemy finally advanced toward the Civil Protection line, their devastating casualties be damned. Some imperial soldiers, backed by their officers who remained shielded farther back, mocked and derided the defenders for their use of those "tiny flying creatures" and "sorcery" instead of facing them in close-quarters combat.

However, these jeering soldiers found themselves well behind the front lines, having yet to experience the havoc the flying machines wrought at various points along the imperial formation, inflicting mortal cuts or even outright death upon the overconfident imperial warriors.

"Biological entities at fifty-five meters and closing. Fall back immediately," Overwatch's impersonal voice ordered through the channels.

Obeying the command, the Civil Protection units began a slow retreat, maintaining a defensive formation while continuing to pour unrelenting fire into the approaching invaders.

Lead ammunition was running out rapidly, forcing some Metrocops to ditch their SMGs and resort to their standard-issue pistols. However, the dark energy-powered machine guns kept blazing away as if nothing had changed, their ammunition supply virtually inexhaustible.

After an interminable few minutes, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, giving way to night as the distance between the two sides narrowed to a mere twenty meters. Grenades and explosives had been completely expended, even most of the APCs' rocket stockpiles had been utterly depleted.

Yet their devastating effect had managed to instill such dread in the Wyvern riders that they chose to scout the surroundings without attempting another aerial attack.

While some Metrocops were struck by a hail of arrows from human or elven archers. Fortunately, their suits protected them from most primitive projectiles, preventing further casualties on the law enforcement side.

The elven archers wore expressions of guilt on their faces with each loosed arrow, as if lamenting having to fire upon the Civil Protection agents.

Before the archers could wreak further havoc, a rocket fired from one of the last remaining APCs with any ammunition left slammed into their position with a deafening blast, reducing them to ashes. But that wasn't all - the armored vehicle's operator decided to expend his remaining rockets demolishing the enemy's primitive artillery, silencing their cannons once and for all.

"Goddamn it, these mongoloids won't give up!" Jorge's furious roar echoed through the comm channels, his voice thick with frustration. "How much longer do we have to hold out before those cyber-princess troopers finish cleaning up the north of the city and come give us a hand?!"

"I don't know, buddy," John responded, his tone laced with weariness and resignation. "But they better hurry up, because I don't think we can contain this horde much longer."

Despite the fatigue that was starting to take its toll on their forces, the Civil Protection agents refused to cede a single inch of ground. With their weapons smoking and ammunition dwindling dangerously, they kept firing into the endless waves of enemies closing in ever nearer.

Night had fallen over the battlefield, yet the battle showed no signs of abating. The flashes of explosions and gunfire lit up the streets in a macabre dance, while the screams of agony and fury blended into a symphony of endless violence.

"Overwatch, how long until reinforcements arrive?" The distorted voice of a Metrocop echoed through the encrypted communication channels, barely audible over the din of close-quarters combat raging around him.

The agent struggled to take down an enemy rider who had managed to get too close, his weapon unleashing a hail of bullets towards the imminent threat. To his misfortune, it was useless to shake this foe, as the unknown invaders had finally closed the distance and were now engaged in hand-to-hand combat against the Civil Protection forces.

The Metrocops suffered attacks from enemy minotaurs and ogres, being cut down and crushed mercilessly by the demonic-looking beasts. Some nimbler agents managed to evade the lethal blows, even blinding one of the demihumans with well-aimed shots to the eyes.

"Code Green-Five-Eight. Air surveillance incoming, prepare to intercept. Estimated arrival in just two minutes," Overwatch's impersonal voice rang out over nearby speakers, attempting to be heard over the deafening shouts and thunderous gunfire. "Code Green-One-Three. Overwatch troops have eliminated the last pocket of anti-citizen activity in the north of City 17. They will arrive at your position within ten standard minutes."

Several of the Metrocops had sustained damage to the communication systems of their gas masks, hindering their ability to hear the AI's instructions clearly. For this reason, Overwatch had opted to broadcast its messages through nearby speakers, hoping at least some of the agents could catch the crucial information.

Amid the chaos of the battlefield, an elite Metrocop was brutally impaled by a sharp imperial sword, his body sliced into two bloody halves. In an act of tremendous strength, a green-skinned, muscle-bound troll seized a nearby APC and hurled it like a projectile directly at a squad of officers, resulting in a shower of death and destruction, not to mention flipping the vehicle over.

Amidst the horrors of the conflict, the sound of static mingled with Overwatch's metallic voice coldly and dispassionately listing off casualties. "Code Red-Three-One. Casualties confirmed. Units 2784, 3921, and 7005 are down."

However, the voice resonating from the speakers seemed to help the Civil Protection agents in some way, leaving the invaders from the Sadera Empire and their demihuman "allies" confused. Hearing the disembodied female voice speaking in an unknown tongue, the soldiers and creatures were left bewildered and alarmed.

"What sort of sorcery is this?" The lilting voice of an elf rang out on the battlefield, laced with a mixture of confusion and pain - the latter due to a bullet lodged in his arm. "Is this a goddess of this world speaking in strange tongues?"

"Don't be foolish, ignorant elf," scoffed a contemptuous imperial officer, his eyes betraying his own puzzlement at the phenomenon. "No deity would lower themselves to speaking in such a barbaric, uncivilized language."

Murmurs of uncertainty and bewilderment spread through the enemy ranks, for none of them had ever heard a voice emanating from nowhere before. The only ones with such a capacity, according to their beliefs, were the gods communicating with their faithful or apostles.

This momentary distraction was enough for the remaining Civil Protection agents, a mere few hundred of the four thousand who had begun the engagement, to flee alongside their armored vehicles. Obeying Overwatch's orders, they would regroup at the nearest blockades where other troops had been freed up after neutralizing the last rebel holdouts.

"Code Blue-Six-Two. Civil Protection units, fall back and regroup at Perimeter Gamma. Overwatch reinforcements en route," the AI transmitted its instructions with inhuman calm.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, the Civil Protection agents swiftly withdrew, leaving behind a battlefield strewn with shredded corpses and smoldering ruins. The battle had been fierce and unrelenting, but it was merely a prelude to what was yet to come.

Back at the Portal, now more cleared as the invading troops managed to overcome the stalemate created by the Civil Protection forces, allowing for greater dispersal of their soldiers, the path was clear for the commander overseeing the invasion to advance.

Secundus, the commanding general, strode forward upon his steed with majestic bearing, his gaze fixed on the moon shining in the night sky. At his side, an escort of elite guards flanked him, some expert swordsmen and three mages whose duty was to protect him at all costs.

Behind Secundus, a younger man followed in his footsteps, mounted on a horse with a coat as dark as the armor he wore. Unlike the general, whose countenance reflected an unwavering determination, this subordinate exuded an aura of excessive arrogance, a haughty smirk curving his lips.

Secundus, along with his entourage, began to carefully emerge from the park, surveying the surroundings with a critical eye. The general took in the buildings surrounding the area, some standing but most in ruins or severely damaged, as if a fierce battle had taken place there before their arrival. He was also struck by the construction materials used, barely recognizing wood and something akin to bricks.

"It seems the inhabitants of this nation are in the midst of war..." Secundus theorized as he advanced slowly atop his mount, coughing occasionally from the polluted air of this world that was more difficult to breathe. "An opportune moment, Caius."

"What does it matter anyway?" The subordinate, Caius, spoke with an air of superiority, earning him a look of annoyance from the general. "War-torn or not, they are still vastly inferior to us."

Secundus shook his head, gently chiding the younger man. "Do not act so confident, Caius. We have already seen that the mages of this nation are quite powerful, and those were but a few."

Caius brushed off the elder's warning, regarding the scattered corpses around them with disdain. "Confident, me? You acted far worse before crossing the gate, not to mention your speech."

"That was because I was unaware of the capabilities of the warriors in this world," Secundus responded calmly. "Now that I know, it is better to exercise greater caution."

Meanwhile, the mages eyed the corpses of the relatively intact soldiers with curiosity. One of them approached one of the bodies, kneeling to examine the helmet that had protected it closely.

To his growing amazement, the mage noticed that the steel of the helmet possessed numerous coin-sized perforations, as if something small and lethal had pierced the metal as if it were nothing. With trembling hands, he removed the helmet from the corpse to inspect it closer.

His eyes widened in surprise upon noticing that the fallen soldier's face bore the same perforations, tiny holes that appeared to have been made by diminutive yet deadly projectiles. In the glow of a small conjured flame, something glinted within one of those deep wounds, reflecting a metallic golden hue.

"What is this thing?" the mage wondered aloud, unable to extract the small object embedded in the soldier's skull.

"What is it?" Secundus' voice rang with authority as he noticed the perplexed expression on his magical escort. "Can you offer any explanation?"

"I do not know how to explain it, my lord," the mage faltered, his gaze fixed on the soldier's remains. "It seems the enemy mages, with their strange wands, are capable of launching small coin-sized stones..."

One of his companions frowned at that assertion. "How so? I have never heard of such a spell, and I have studied many books of magic."

"Nor have I," the first mage admitted, coughing slightly from the irritating air that was beginning to affect his lungs. "But this is a new world, possibly an unknown spell to us."

He rose to his feet with effort, leaving the helmet on the ground beside the corpse. "I theorize that what we saw were the elite mages of this world, for I very much doubt normal mages would be capable of using such a lethal spell for an extended period and manage to employ their mana so effectively without leaving any traces of magic."

His eyes drifted to the craters pockmarking the ground, evidence of the powerful "fire lances" that had struck there. "It would also explain why they had those metal beasts at their disposal," the mage concluded.

A deep sigh escaped the lips of Secundus, the commanding general of the invading forces, as he assimilated the theory presented by the mage of his escort. He had underestimated the power of the individuals on the other side of the Gate, a mistake he could not afford to repeat if he wished to succeed in his campaign of conquest.

With an inquisitive gaze, laden with the wisdom forged in countless battles, he turned to the sorcerer once more. "Could these 'elite mages' pose a serious problem for our campaign?" Although his tone denoted curiosity, there was also a tinge of concern in his words, weathered by the passage of years.

The mage shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowed as he carefully considered his response. "As I mentioned before, my lord, if they are truly the most powerful mages of this world, they do not represent an insurmountable obstacle. They are few in number, and although formidable, our troops have already managed to decimate several of their ranks during the previous battle."

A brief silence fell over the group as the sorcerer immersed himself in his thoughts, weighing the implications of what they had discovered about the magical mysteries of this new world. Secundus, however, was momentarily distracted by the sound of squeaking wheels and the clatter of heavy machinery advancing behind him.

Turning, his eyes fell upon a massive, sturdy-looking wagon designed specifically for transporting slaves, making its way along the cleared path beyond the Portal. Behind it, an endless procession of catapults, trebuchets, and other artillery pieces were being maneuvered outward, ready to unleash their destructive power upon this new land to be conquered.

The general allowed his gaze to drift toward the imperial troops still awaiting orders, immersed in murmurs and speculations about the origin of the mysterious voice that had resonated across the previous battlefield. So absorbed had he been in analyzing the nature of the enemy's magic that he had scarcely noticed the deployment of his own invading forces.

Straightening his imposing figure, Secundus raised his hand in a gesture demanding absolute silence. His voice rang with the authority forged on a thousand battlefields, cutting through the murmur like a sharpened blade. "Soldiers of the Sadera Empire! We have managed to open a path through the enemy's defenses, but the battle has only just begun!"

A tense silence descended over the ranks as the general swept the area with his steely gaze, assessing strategic positions with an expert eye. "Disperse throughout the city and annihilate any form of resistance you encounter! Leave no stone unturned in this primitive place!"

The orders were assimilated swiftly, and the imperial troops began mobilizing instantly. Foot soldiers, heavy cavalry, and the imposing creatures that comprised the Empire's shock force deployed in disciplined formations, save for the orcs and ogres, but nevertheless advanced rapidly toward the surrounding buildings.

"As for the inhabitants..." Secundus turned to one of his closest officers, his tone as relentless as tempered steel. "Any natives you find must be captured and sent back through the Portal! They will serve as slaves to strengthen our glorious Empire!"

The officer nodded brusquely, the order being transmitted down the chain of command without delay. The soldiers mobilized with renewed vigor, their gazes reflecting a cold and merciless determination, devoid of the slightest shred of compassion for the natives of this world who dared defy them.