JAXA Scientific Headquarters, Tsukuba, Japan March 27, 2030, 02:14 JST
In the silence of the night, the scientific complex of one of the world's leading aerospace organizations seemed especially serene. The huge white building, reminiscent of a futuristic fortress, was almost completely immersed in darkness, save for a few windows through which a soft, warm light still shone.
One of the offices was located on the third floor and was quite cozy for such a strict institution. It was filled with the pleasant aroma of coffee, mingled with the scent of old books and freshly printed documents.
On a desk piled high with papers, books, and torn sheets lay a steaming cup of hot coffee, releasing delicate wisps of steam that gently dissolved in the soft glow of the desk lamp. Next to it was a brand-new tablet—specifically, a 2029 iPad Pro—with several calculation tabs open.
The office was lit by three large windows. Two of them were open, and through them a barely noticeable night breeze slipped in, stirring the curtains and rustling the pages. The third window was covered with a thick dark-blue curtain, completely hiding the nighttime view and giving the room a sense of seclusion.
A figure in a white coat looked wearily out the window, where a pleasant view of the city stretched out below. A badge hanging loosely around his neck bore the name: Gizat Satovsky.
It was an unusual name for a JAXA employee, since it wasn't Japanese.
The tall figure continued to silently observe the city's nighttime landscapes when someone knocked feverishly on the door.
—"It's open." he said calmly.
The door opened softly, letting in light from the corridor, and a young man with a short, casually styled haircut entered the room. The name on his badge read Higuruma Soichi. He looked slightly tired, but the smile on his face revealed a keen interest in the upcoming conversation.
Higuruma froze in the doorway for a moment, as if pondering his next words, then quickly stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind him.
— "Sorry to bother you so late, Gizat-san," he muttered, slightly nervous and adjusting his glasses. — "But you've got to see this."
Gizat slowly turned away from the window and, squinting a bit, looked intently at his young colleague. He knew Soichi well—he wouldn't get worked up over nothing.
— "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost," he asked, sitting down in his chair and motioning for Higuruma to take the seat next to him.
Soichi took a few steps forward and placed his tablet on the table, quickly opening several apps and tabs showing analytical graphs and observation data.
— "Our specialists have detected some intense electromagnetic and quantum fluctuations right in the center of Tokyo, in Shinjuku. Like we're near a black hole, for fuck's sake. Completely inexplicable energy spikes," the young scientist began excitedly, pointing to rapidly changing numbers and graphs on the tablet. — "This started literally ten minutes ago. We've already been in touch with observatories across the country and with colleagues at the University of Tokyo—they confirm they're getting the same readings."
Gizat frowned, instantly discarding his fatigue and studying the tablet closely. His gaze swept across the graphs, numbers, and coordinates marked in bright red.
— "What? Intense quantum fluctuations? Are you sure it's not some equipment error?" he asked cautiously, though his voice already betrayed concern.
Soichi simply shook his head.
— "No, Gizat. I triple-checked. No errors. These readings are coming from everywhere. I contacted our people at the Tokyo Branch, and they don't know what it is either... but they've already sent several patrols and drones to Shinjuku."
A chill ran down Gizat's spine. Something was definitely happening.
— "Again, what exactly is this?" Gizat carefully picked up his still-warm cup of coffee and sat down.
— "We're not entirely sure. Either a quantum fluctuation or some sort of entanglement. This damn thing is showing high neutrino activity, and it sent out electromagnetic waves—that's how they found it."
Gizat adjusted his glasses and looked intently at the file attached to Soichi's iPad.
— "It looks more like Quantum Entanglement on a macroscopic level... considering the neutrino surges."
— "Yeah. Our people have also detected obvious space-time distortions at that location. Basically, it's complete insanity."
Gizat rubbed his temples. Now there was an unknown point in reality spewing electromagnetic waves and creating a ton of quantum fluctuations hanging in the middle of Shinjuku. This thing could potentially be very dangerous.
— "Damn, I hope it's not a false vacuum that starts expanding faster than light."
— "Shut up and don't scare me with this false or true vacuum crap... to hell with that."
Gizat slowly ran his fingers across the tablet's screen, scrolling through the new data. Gravitational fluctuations, bursts of X-ray and gamma radiation, deviations in the magnetic field—all pointed to something unnatural. And most disturbing of all was the absence of any visible source. They were looking at something that literally defied their understanding of the laws of physics.
— "What's the radius of the anomaly?" he asked, barely containing a trace of tension in his voice.
— "Within a radius of five hundred meters from the epicenter, we're registering strange interference on radio frequencies and slight gravitational fluctuations. But the scariest part, Gizat..." Soichi pointed to one of the graph windows. — "At the epicenter itself, signals just drop off. As if there's... a hole in reality."
Gizat froze. A hole in reality. It wasn't just a metaphor—the instruments literally stopped detecting anything at the central point of the anomaly, as though physical laws simply ceased to function.
— "You discovered this only ten minutes ago?"
— "Yes. It's complete bullshit, I have to say. I don't even know what we can do. Evacuating the population isn't an option—those above us wouldn't believe it. I mean, come on, it sounds more like a bunch of scientific nonsense."
— "I'm inclined to agree. So what do we do next, then? Damn it..."
— "Wait. We just have to wait." Soichi sat down across from Gizat, leaning back against the plastic chair.
Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan March 27, 2030, 08:30
The morning freshness could be felt even in a place like Tokyo. A pleasant cool breeze brushed the skin of passersby moving in an endless stream, each heading about their business. Huge screens on buildings and neon signs highlighted Tokyo's futuristic look. Occasionally, driverless cars passed along the street, though they were becoming more of a rarity.
Crowds of Japanese citizens were crossing the streets when an ad for the new iPhone flashed on one of the screens. The beautifully shimmering image of the smartphone's body, accompanied by pleasant music, filled the streets of Shinjuku.
Despite the collapse of the United States, many mega-corporations not only survived but adapted. Most major American companies relocated to Japan, and partially to China and India.
On another screen, a charming TV presenter adjusted her collar and began her report.
— "Good morning, Tokyo! Today is March 27, 2030, and we're starting a new day with the top stories!" the anchor announced energetically, smiling at the camera.
The screen switched to a tall glass skyscraper, with several camera drones floating in the air above it. Down at the foot of the building, journalists bustled around, hunting for comments. The headline on the screen read: "Strategic Partnership: Japan and the New California Republic."
— "Negotiations between the Japanese government and the NCR have intensified in recent months. Recall that after the collapse of the United States, several states formed independent nations. The New California Republic is one of the few countries that retained legitimacy and stability. According to Japan's Minister of Foreign Affairs, the sides are considering the possibility of concluding a defense agreement..."
The crowd of passersby paid little attention to the news. Such geopolitical events had long become the norm in the new reality. On a nearby screen, another announcement lit up:
"ATTENTION! TOKYO'S AIR POLLUTION LEVEL HAS INCREASED BY 3%."
People cast quick glances at it and continued on their way. In large cities like Tokyo, such notifications were commonplace. The screen switched to a reporter in California, standing against a background of armored vehicles bearing the New California Republic insignia. Behind him, soldiers were loading crates of ammunition, and in the distance smoke billowed from recent battles.
— "Despite the Atomwaffen Division's successes in the Midwest, the NCR leadership continues to strengthen defensive positions and actively cooperates with Japan and its PDTO allies. The President of the New California Republic stated that the nation will never become part of the neo-Nazi regime that has taken over most of the former USA. In response, the Japanese government has promised to increase the supply of weapons and technology."
The image changed to a Tokyo studio, where an analyst adjusted his glasses and, smirking, commented:
— "In effect, we're witnessing the formation of a new global axis of power: Japan, the PDTO, and the democratic remnants of the US against Atomwaffen and its allies. Though the NCR has little chance without more decisive support from the PDTO."
The anchor nodded, continuing:
— "According to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, an NCR delegation will arrive in Tokyo next week for talks on expanding cooperation. We may soon see the creation of a full-fledged military-political bloc with New California, as well as more active PDTO involvement in the American conflict."
Footage appeared on the screen of Japanese convoys heading to the port to load weapons. A caption underneath read: "FIRST SHIPMENT OF JAPANESE UAVs AND MISSILES IS ALREADY ON ITS WAY TO CALIFORNIA." The anchor switched to the next topic, and footage of warships crossing the South China Sea appeared on screen.
— "China has issued an official statement condemning the joint military exercises by India, Indonesia, and Japan in the South China Sea. According to a spokesperson for the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, these maneuvers represent an 'unfriendly provocation that threatens regional stability.'"
The image changed to show a dense formation of PDTO destroyers and aircraft carriers, accompanied by Indian and Indonesian frigates. At the center shone the aircraft carrier JS Izumo, flanked by the INS Vikramaditya and INS Vikrant.
Fighter jets can be seen taking off, along with submarines moving in combat formation.
— "According to experts, the PDTO has been ramping up activity in the region, increasing the frequency of joint exercises over the past few months. Let us recall that after the signing of the treaty establishing the Pacific Defense Treaty Organization and the cooperation between India, Japan, and Indonesia, along with their allies, Beijing has already expressed concern, accusing them of 'creating an Asian equivalent of NATO.'"
The screen showed China's official ambassador to Japan, standing in front of a red flag with five stars.
— "The People's Republic of China will not tolerate military provocations near its borders. We demand the immediate cessation of these dangerous maneuvers and reserve the right to take appropriate measures to protect our interests in the region."
Next came a recording of the Japanese Defense Minister's speech.
— "Japan and its allies are conducting these exercises solely to maintain security and freedom of navigation in international waters. Any accusations against the PDTO are unfounded."
Meanwhile, urgent news appeared at the bottom of the screen:
"CHINA HAS SCRAMBLED ADDITIONAL FIGHTERS OVER THE SOUTH CHINA SEA. MOSCOW: 'WE ARE MONITORING THE SITUATION.'"
The camera switched back to the anchor.
— "So far, the parties have limited themselves to statements, but analysts note that tension in the region continues to rise. Against this backdrop, China is stepping up its military activity around the disputed islands."
The screen image changed, showing majestic views of London: the Palace of Westminster, Tower Bridge, and Trafalgar Square.
In front of the Union Jack stood the British Prime Minister, a woman in a strict dark-blue suit. Her voice was calm, but it carried a steely determination.
— "After thorough analysis and consultations with our allies, the government of the United Kingdom officially states: we will not join the so-called 'Pact of Steel' and condemn any attempts at forcibly changing the world order."
Next to her was the Spanish Prime Minister, who nodded in agreement.
— "Spain also does not consider joining the Pact of Steel. We remain committed to democratic values and international stability. No threats or pressure from radical groups or states will change our position."
The screen then showed footage of protests in London, where groups of far-right activists demanding that Britain join the Pact of Steel clashed with the police. Flags bearing imperial symbols could be seen in the crowd, and some radicals even chanted slogans about restoring the British Empire.
A journalist off-camera explained:
— "For several days now, protests organized by far-right movements have continued on London's streets, calling for the UK to join the Pact of Steel. However, the authorities firmly reject such initiatives, stating that they run counter to the country's interests and European security."
A digital map appeared on-screen, showing Europe looking very different from ten years ago. Almost the entire continent—except for the Iberian Peninsula, the United Kingdom, and Russia and its allies—was shaded dark gray with a black eagle, the symbol of the Pact of Steel.
The off-screen narrator continued:
— "After the collapse of the European Union and the downfall of NATO in the mid-2020s, the Fourth Reich managed to consolidate power, gradually absorbing most of the continent. Germany, through economic pressure, diplomatic manipulation, and, in some cases, military force, established complete control over Central and Eastern Europe."
The map smoothly zoomed in, highlighting various regions.
— "Austria and Switzerland voluntarily joined the Reich, citing 'historical heritage.' Italy, having suffered a political crisis and mass protests, was brought under the control of far-right forces supported by Berlin. Scandinavia, despite resistance in Sweden and Norway, was also integrated into the new order."
Footage appeared of military parades in Berlin, Vienna, and Rome, where huge columns of soldiers marched to the sounds of military bands. Red-and-black flags with imperial symbols fluttered over the squares.
— "To the east, Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, and most of the Balkans also fell under the Reich's sphere of influence. Only Serbia maintains a relative independence, balancing between Moscow and Berlin."
The map zoomed out, highlighting individual areas.
— "The territory of what was once France is now divided between two powers. The northern part, including Paris, Lyon, and Bordeaux, is fully controlled by the Pact of Steel. Southern France, including Provence and Corsica, is held by republican insurgents supported by the UK and Spain."
The narrator paused, then added with particular emphasis:
— "Effectively, Europe has come under the sway of a totalitarian regime that increasingly recalls the dark times of the mid-20th century. Many international experts warn that this is merely a prologue to a possible global conflict."
On-screen appeared two portraits: one of the Führer of the Fourth Reich, with a cold and confident gaze, and the other of the leader of the French resistance—exhausted, yet full of determination.
On the giant screens in Shinjuku, an image from the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs press conference appeared. In the spotlight stood Japan's Minister of Foreign Affairs, Takamori Shunsuke, at the podium in a hall filled with journalists from around the world.
His voice was firm and confident:
— "Today, Japan declares its resolute position. We condemn the expansionist policy of the Fourth Reich and fully support the United Kingdom, Spain, and all the countries that have chosen the path of freedom over dictatorship."
The journalists in the room listened intently, recording every word. Cameras captured the minister's expression—serious and unwavering.
— "After the collapse of NATO and the downfall of the European Union, the world faces the threat of a new era of totalitarianism. We, the Japanese people, and our allies within the PDTO will not allow the history of the 20th century to repeat itself. Japan assumes responsibility for maintaining peace and stability in the region and throughout the world."
The minister continued:
— "NATO once played the role of guarantor of democracy and international security. Now that role falls to us. The Pacific Defense Treaty Organization will stand guard over freedom. We hereby announce the expansion of our strategic partnerships and the strengthening of cooperation with those who share our values. Japan firmly takes on the mantle of the New Leader of the Free World."
The giant screens in Shinjuku changed scenes once again. Now in the spotlight was the NHK World anchor, seated in a formal dark-navy blazer. Her voice conveyed both alarm and a steely resolve.
— "The Fire Rises across the globe. And the question now isn't who keeps throwing fuel on it, but whether humanity can extinguish this blaze—or if it will ultimately consume the Earth entirely."
Despite the alarming news flashing across the screens, life in Tokyo continued its usual rhythm. People hurried to work, teenagers in school uniforms raced off to their lessons, servers in cafés carried aromatic coffee, and somewhere on the bustling intersections, street musicians played in rhythmic harmony.
Shinjuku went on with its everyday life. However, Tokyoites had no idea that their lives were on the verge of changing forever.
JAXA Scientific Headquarters, Tsukuba, Japan
In JAXA's spacious conference room, several leading specialists, engineers, and physicists had gathered. The wall-mounted screens displayed real-time data: satellite images, graphs of electromagnetic anomalies, and infrared and neutrino maps of Tokyo. At the center of it all, pointing a laser pointer at the displays, stood Dr. Sayama—one of Japan's foremost nuclear physicists and a representative of the University of Tokyo.
Seated next to him was Gizat Satovsky, studying the constant stream of data that updated by the second. Soichi Higuruma jotted notes in a notepad, occasionally glancing at his colleagues.
— "Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Sayama began, clearing his throat. "I'll explain once more. We have a localized anomaly in the center of Tokyo with unknown properties. This isn't just a fluctuation—it's... something else."
He tapped on his tablet, and the screen displayed an image of a spatial distortion—a silvery vortex, reminiscent of liquid metal, shimmering and emitting a faint light.
— "Over the past five hours, we've recorded intense, unstable electromagnetic fluctuations, quantum entanglement on a macroscopic scale, and a significant distortion of the gravitational field. Moreover..."
He paused and looked at Gizat.
— "We lost contact with several unmanned drones that tried to approach the anomaly. They vanished from radar, as if they dissolved into thin air."
A hushed silence fell over the room.
Gizat squinted, leaning forward, a pen in hand that he absentmindedly twirled between his fingers.
— "What the hell? Is this some form of spatial rift?"
— "Apparently so. We don't know what lies beyond it. It could be..." Sayama hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "...another layer of reality. Or even another universe."
Soichi let out a nervous chuckle:
— "Damn. If that's true... then Hawking and Everett have officially won."
The other specialists in the conference room exchanged glances in silence. A space-time rift in Shinjuku, emitting terrifying electromagnetic and quantum fluctuations? It sounded more like a stream of scientific nonsense than a report from one of the University of Tokyo's leading scholars.
Dr. Sayama noticed his colleagues' skeptical looks, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He understood their doubts—imagining that something right in the heart of a megacity could violate the familiar laws of physics was madness. But the data didn't lie.
— "I know how it sounds," he sighed heavily and turned to the screen, switching the images.
An infrared camera video appeared on the screen—a deserted intersection in Shinjuku. At first, everything looked normal: cars passing by, pedestrians hurrying about their business. Then the picture suddenly jerked; distortions flooded the area, as if the air had abruptly turned dense and rippling. After a couple of seconds, something appeared in the very center of the image...
Gizat squinted, trying to discern the details. The silvery anomaly looked like liquid metal, its surface slowly pulsing, reflecting the street lights in a strange way.
— "Here's the drone we sent," Sayama continued.
A small UAV appeared as a dot on the screen, slowly approaching the anomaly. When it was only a few meters away, the signal suddenly cut out. The camera flickered with white noise and shut off.
— "Gone without a trace. No wreckage, nothing."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Soichi swallowed hard.
— "What the hell..."
Gizat leaned back in his chair, pressing a finger to his chin.
— "Let's say we're dealing with a space-time rift. In that case, there are two options. Either this is a natural phenomenon triggered by processes we don't understand, or..."
He trailed off, but his meaning was clear.
— "Or someone—or something—created it," Sayama finished.
One of the engineers, who had been silent until then, frowned and folded his arms.
— "You're suggesting that we're dealing with something... artificial? Maybe a secret weapon?"
— "It's not out of the question."
Gizat scratched his chin.
— "But if that's the case, then we're dealing with technology far more advanced than anything that exists on Earth. Theoretically, nobody could create a stable rip in space-time. And here..."
He pointed to the data on the screen.
— "This isn't just a tear. We're registering regular wave signatures, as though someone is regulating this process."
Dr. Sayama nodded.
— "What's more, based on our estimates, it's not just an anomaly. It's a stable structure. It doesn't collapse or implode. It remains..."
— "A gateway."
Everyone turned to Soichi. He had spoken the word almost in a whisper, yet it echoed through the conference room.
— "God damn it..." one of the physicists muttered.
A heavy atmosphere settled over the room.
Gizat got up, walked across the room, and stopped in front of the screen.
— "Alright. We need more data. Bring in anyone we can—universities, the military, private labs."
Sayama folded his arms.
— "We're already on it. But there's one problem."
Gizat turned.
— "What is it?"
Sayama picked up his tablet, scrolled through some files, and opened a new graph.
— "The anomaly is expanding."
Gizat froze.
— "What?!"
Sayama pointed to a growth curve.
— "Since it was first detected, its radius has increased by 3.2 meters. That's not much, but the trend is clear. If it continues..."
— "It'll swallow Shinjuku," Soichi said slowly.
For a moment, Gizat closed his eyes, trying to process the information.
— "We have to warn the government immediately."
Sayama nodded.
— "They already know. The Prime Minister has requested an urgent report. We're flying to Tokyo tomorrow morning."
Silence fell over the room once again. Gizat looked at the image on the screen.
— "Whatever it is... it's here to stay."
Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan March 27, 2030, 11:45
In the middle of the street, the air began to thicken so noticeably that any passerby could see the visible ripples, as if part of Shinjuku had been placed inside a giant microwave.
And then... a distinct shape started to slowly materialize among the skyscrapers. At first, it was transparent, like a strange vibrating glass. But then the outlines of stone, marble, and majestic columns became apparent. A large structure in the architectural style of the Roman Empire—an arch—appeared right in the middle of a major thoroughfare.
At first, the crowd of onlookers, not immediately understanding what was happening, froze in amazement. Some, convinced it was an advanced advertising hologram or another art performance, even pulled out their phones to record the strange phenomenon. However, within a few moments, it became obvious—this was no illusion.
The materialization was far too natural, too... physical. The stone, which had been ghostly and unstable, grew more and more tangible. The gate now looked as though it had always been there—amid the modern buildings, in the heart of one of Tokyo's busiest districts.
— "Is this some kind of movie promotion?"
— "Or a really cool AR projection. Props to whoever made it!"
The gate had fully materialized, revealing itself in broad daylight. A few patrol officers by their police car—who had been lazily chatting or smoking before—grew alert and turned their attention to the structure.
One of the police officers, Sergeant Takeda, instinctively reached for his radio, trying to contact headquarters. He still couldn't fully grasp what he was seeing, but something about these Gates stirred a primal sense of dread within him.
— "Central, this is Patrol Post 12-8. We've got... damn, I don't even know how to describe it. A huge arch has just materialized right in the middle of the road... looks like something out of ancient Rome..."
No response. Only a hollow hiss in the speaker. His heart sank. This was bad. Very bad. At that moment, the air around the Gate seemed to thicken, and a dark fog began to flow out from inside the opening, filling the area with a sinister chill. And then... There was a sound.
A dull thud. Then another. As though someone—or something—was approaching from the depths of the arch. And then, as if stepping out of a black void, the first figures appeared.
Tall warriors clad in armor with red cloaks and massive shields slowly emerged from the Gate, step by deliberate step. Their armor, adorned with unknown symbols, resembled Roman designs but appeared heavier, more menacing. Next to them came figures of strange creatures—like monsters from a fantasy world—beastfolk, even a few that looked like elves, as if they had sprung from the pages of Tolkien.
— "Comic Con's already started? I thought it wasn't till summer."
— "Awesome cosplay! I wanna get a photo!"
Some passersby still weren't taking the situation seriously. Takeda exchanged glances with his three fellow officers.
Sergeant Takeda gritted his teeth, feeling his palms grow clammy with cold sweat. Instinct told him something was wrong. These figures... their movements were too precise, too real. This wasn't some prank or advertising stunt.
He glanced over at his colleagues—Kobayashi, Furuta, and Nishimura also looked tense, their hands already reaching for their pistol grips.
— "This is a bad joke..." Kobayashi whispered.
When the ranks of legionaries formed at the entrance to the Gate, a figure on horseback emerged from its depths, somewhere in the middle rows. His golden armor gleamed in the sun as one of the centurions nearby bowed.
— "Legate Bonapartius. The army stands ready to carry out any order."
Bonapartius nodded to his officer. Once one of Emperor Molt's finest generals, now an authorized Legate of the Saderan Empire, Bonapartius was a figure of high standing. Behind him, another figure on horseback rode forth, shielding his eyes from the blinding earthly sun. Smirking, Bonapartius swept his hand outward, pointing to Tokyo's skyscrapers, addressing the figure behind him:
— "Aurelius! Look at this! It's the city of the gods!"
Lord Aurelius, ruler of the province of Idlib—the richest province in the Empire, regularly filling the capital's treasury—was also known as the Donor of Sadera and served as one of the commanders of the expeditionary forces.
Lord Aurelius squinted, studying the scene before him. Majestic buildings of glass and steel, seemingly reaching to the heavens, with mirrored surfaces reflecting the sunlight like temple spires. It all appeared so alien—so far removed from anything he had ever known.
— "The city of the gods..." he repeated, slowly nodding, as though trying to convince himself.
He was an experienced man, having fought in more than one campaign. In neighboring provinces, he had put down several rebellions, crushed dozens of defiant tribes, and yet... he had never seen anything like this.
— "If this is the domain of the gods, then why are they so... silent? Where are their warriors? Where are their temple priests?"
Legate Bonapartius gave a low snort, scanning the rows of his legionaries assembled by the Gate. Their steel shields, long spears, and rectangular standards starkly contrasted with the peaceful cityscape.
— "We'll find out soon enough."
He raised his hand, and the legionaries gripped their shields more tightly. Bonapartius flashed a broad grin and lowered his hand.
— "ATTACK!"
A resounding roar of war horns rolled through the streets of Shinjuku, echoing among the skyscrapers. Officers' commands, the footsteps of thousands of soldiers, the clang of armor—all merged into a single terrifying cacophony of war.
The cavalry moved first—heavily armed Imperial horsemen, their powerful steeds pounding the asphalt with their hooves, unaware this wasn't compacted earth but a city boulevard. Following them came the legionaries, marching in tight formation, heavy steps pounding, massive rectangular shields held forward.
Monstrous war chariots, drawn by huge lizard-like creatures, trundled after the infantry, their wheels screeching against the asphalt and leaving deep grooves in their wake.
Bonapartius looked straight ahead, raising his hand.
— "Seize the city! Spare no one!"
And the army advanced. The first victims fell instantly. Office workers, ordinary passersby, tourists—those closest to the invaders didn't even have time to understand what was happening. The cavalry crashed into the crowd, slashing with swords, spears running through helpless bodies, screams of agony tearing through the usual hum of the metropolis.
A young woman in a business suit, holding her phone to film the Gate, never even got a chance to cry out before being knocked off her feet by a spear. Next to her, a man in a formal suit attempted to flee but was cut down by a sword blow to his back.
Panic gripped the crowd. People scattered in every direction, screaming and trying to find shelter in shops, eateries, subway stations.
Soldiers armed with crossbows and bows raised their weapons, bowstrings drawn taut.
A hail of arrows rained down on the fleeing masses, piercing their backs, necks, and limbs. One man was pinned against the wall of a glass building, his body twitching once more before slumping to the ground.
Atrocities began immediately.
Chariots thundered down the streets, crushing everything in their path. Horses and lizard-beasts kicked at the dying, finishing them off. One of the legionaries seized a young girl by the hair, dragging her away.
— "The gods have gifted us with women!" he laughed, while his comrades dragged away several more.
Cars began to burst into flames—burning arrows embedding themselves in store signs, restaurant walls, and the entrances to office buildings. Neon screens sparked and crackled, as if the city itself were hit by invasion.
The four police officers didn't react immediately, still standing in shock and disbelief. But Sergeant Takeda snapped his partners out of it, his trembling hands reaching for his belt. He tore the radio from his waist, pressing the emergency button. His voice came out sharp but controlled, like someone used to crisis situations:
— "Central, this is Patrol 12-8! Urgent! Unknown armed groups have attacked Shinjuku Station! The square in front of Shinjuku Station! I repeat, armed individuals dressed in Roman-style armor with swords and spears are attacking civilians! We need immediate backup!"
In response, there was only crackling, then the dispatcher's voice:
— "Patrol 12-8, say again? Who are these armed individuals?"
— "Damn it, we don't know ourselves! This isn't terrorism, it's... It's like something from another era! Damn it, they've begun their assault!"
Still not fully grasping what was happening, the four police officers acted on instinct according to protocol. The second officer hurried to the trunk of the patrol car, yanking out a Howa Type 20 assault rifle. Meanwhile, the other two and Takeda flipped off the safeties on their SIG P320 pistols, aiming at the approaching enemies.
Sergeant Takeda took a deep breath and shouted:
— "STOP! TOKYO POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
But none of the horsemen stopped.
On the contrary—the leading rider, a man with sharp facial features and a crest on his helmet, sneered disdainfully and gripped his reins even tighter.
— "Ha... these strange warriors in black uniforms... They shall be the first victims of my sword!" he said in an incomprehensible language, thrusting his spear forward.
Takeda tried one last time:
— "I REPEAT, STOP! YOU'RE SURROUNDED! WE—"
His voice was drowned out by the sudden whistle of a spear slicing through the air.
The impact.
Officer Furuta, standing near the patrol car, didn't even have time to react. The wooden shaft with a bronze tip pierced his bulletproof vest, embedding itself deep into his chest. A ragged gasp escaped his throat as he stumbled and collapsed onto the hood of the car, leaving a bloody smear on its white surface.
— "DAMN IT!" Takeda roared as the horsemen charged forward. — "OPEN FIRE! OPEN FIRE!"
The first gunshots rang out.
Muzzle flashes flared from the pistol barrels and the rifle.
The Howa Type 20 rattled off bursts, sending bullets flying at 850 m/s. The pistols added their own deafening accompaniment. The officer with the rifle skillfully took aim at the leading rider and squeezed the trigger. The bullets screeched through the chest plate of his armor, sending the knight tumbling fatally off his horse. His body hit the ground with a dull metallic clang, his sword skidding across the asphalt.
But it didn't stop the others.
The horses whinnied furiously, trampling cars, the riders raising their swords toward ordinary city dwellers.
— "DAMN IT! BACKUP?! WHERE'S OUR BACKUP?!" Takeda yelled into his radio.
— "Nearest patrols are en route! Hang in there, officer!"
But there was no more time.
One of the legionaries charged forward, sword raised high, the blade cleaving the air. Then...
With a sickening crunch, the steel sliced through Officer Kobayashi's bulletproof vest. He let out a short cry as his body slumped and dropped to its knees. Two left. Takeda took aim and fired three more bullets at the closest enemy, causing him to stagger. But the next moment, another massive legionary—part-beast, snarling wildly—drove his sword straight through the policeman, piercing his vest completely.
Meanwhile, an orc had already overturned the patrol car, its wheels slowly spinning in the air.
Shinjuku Metro Station, Tokyo, Japan March 27, 2030, 12:00 JST
Three police officers in black uniforms with Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department patches were escorting a handcuffed detainee along the street. They had just emerged from the subway, catching their breath after navigating the overcrowded passageways.
The detainee—a stocky, stubbled man in a worn jacket—clearly seemed used to situations like this. His face radiated a sullen anger, but he knew better than to start trouble.
— "So, fellas, as we agreed? Tonight, a bar, grilled Wagyu?" one of the officers said, adjusting his belt.
— "Damn, I've been thinking about that all day!" the second officer smirked, checking his radio. "Have you tried Wagyu? It's so juicy, it just melts in your mouth..."
— "Are you kidding me, you damn pigs?" the detainee growled bitterly, shaking his head. "I'm heading to the slammer, and you're gonna be guzzling beer?"
One of the policemen, tall with a clean-shaven face, lazily kicked him in the rear.
— "Shut your mouth, scumbag. You'll sit in a cage for a couple of years—then you can come out and drink your beer with the rest of the trash."
The detainee huffed but said nothing. They were already climbing the steps to the exit when a scream suddenly pierced their ears—drawn out, full of pain and terror. In the next instant, something heavy hit the ground with a dull thud right in front of them.
A woman. Young, dressed in a formal business suit, carrying a bag that had fallen next to her and was now half-torn. Her hands were still twitching convulsively, as if her body refused to understand it was already dead. An arrow jutted from her chest, and a dark pool of blood was slowly spreading from the fresh wound.
The officers froze in place, not immediately grasping that this wasn't just some random victim of a crime.
— "HOLY SHIT! EVERYONE GET BACK, INTO THE SUBWAY!" the sergeant roared, instantly yanking the detainee by the collar and dragging him back down the steps.
They managed to glimpse shapes moving in the light pouring in from the street. They advanced in formation, heavy shields reflecting the daylight, long spears leveled ahead. The dull thud of boots echoed on the stairs, along with the metallic clinking of armor.
One of them, wearing a helmet crest dyed red, raised his hand and shouted something in an unfamiliar language. The others quickened their pace, clearly intending to descend and go after their prey.
— "Damn it! They're coming down here!"
An officer grabbed his radio, but only static hissed. Instinctively, his hand went for his holster.
— "STOP! TOKYO POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
The only response was coarse laughter from one of the warriors. The legionaries kept advancing. Then a gunshot rang out. A bullet, fired by the sergeant, struck the first enemy in the chest, making him reel for a second, but he didn't fall. His armor rattled, leaving a slight dent.
A second shot. Aimed at the face this time. The bullet punched through the eye socket. The legionary staggered back and then tumbled down, rolling down the steps until he lay still, his helmet clattering on the tiles.
The third and fourth shots. Two more legionaries clutched their punctured chests, collapsing with rasping gasps. But the rest did not slow. The officers realized there was no time.
— "LOCK THE DOORS! NOW!"
A station employee, pale as a sheet, slammed the emergency lock button with trembling hands. With a hollow clunk, thick glass partitions sealed off the entrance.
The legionaries crashed into the barriers with dull thuds, their weapons hammering against the glass.
The reinforced glass trembled under the blows. Outside, the legionaries kept battering away, their swords and spears clashing against the armored panels, leaving deep scratches.
People huddled in the corners, shaking with fear. Some were crying, others just stared into space, lost. Nobody understood what was happening. But one thing was clear—those creatures had no intention of leaving.
The officers retreated, quickly reloading their weapons, readying for a final stand. Then a rough, raspy voice rose above the chaos.
— "Hey, cops! Let me loose and gimme a gun! I'll help!"
The officers whipped around, staring at the detainee.
He stood there, arms crossed, perfectly calm, as though this were just another everyday shootout on the streets.
— "Why the hell should I set you free, you piece of trash?!" the sergeant snarled, aiming at the glass behind which another legionary was now thrashing. "Can you even shoot?!"
"A Korea vet, goddamn it!" the criminal snarled, spitting on the floor. "And you've got no other choice! You think I want some bunch of wannabe Romans running roughshod over MY gang's streets?!"
The sergeant hesitated. Damn. He didn't want this. But he knew the bastard was right. Outside, a legionary's sword slammed against the glass, leaving a deep crack. Time was running out.
"Damn it... FINE!"
He tossed the handcuff keys to the other officer. With a dull clank, the cuffs hit the floor. The criminal immediately rubbed his wrists, sneering.
The sergeant grabbed a spare revolver from his holster and rolled it across the floor to the detainee's feet. He quickly picked it up, checked the cylinder, and smirked.
"Thanks, chief."
He wasted no time. Taking aim, the pistol's barrel turned toward these Romans. A bullet ripped through the head of a legionary who had just raised his sword for a blow. The body collapsed, blood spreading across the tiles.
"Well then, you bastards?" the criminal sneered, twirling the revolver on his finger. "Who's next?"
Shinjuku Metro Station, Tokyo, Japan March 27, 2030, 12:00 JST
The glass partitions were still holding, but not for much longer. Crack. Crunch. Each new strike bent the metal, each spear thrust into the glass left deep fissures ready to shatter with the next blow. The police knew they had mere minutes.
— "ALL PASSENGERS, RUN TO THE TRAINS!" the sergeant roared, waving an arm toward the platforms. "GET IN THE TRAINS AND GET OUT OF HERE! EVERYONE ELSE—HOLD THE DEFENSE!"
The crowd stirred, and finally people began to move. Shouts, frantic footsteps, pushing and shoving. Mothers grabbed their children, dragging them toward the nearest cars. Men followed without a second thought.
An elderly Japanese man in a fine suit stumbled, falling onto the platform. Right beside him, a young guy in a hoodie stopped abruptly, grabbed the older man under the arms, and helped him to his feet.
— "Come on, old man, let's go!"
The senior couldn't manage any words, only nodding as he hurried into the train.
The sergeant stayed near the glass partitions, clutching his radio in hand. The dispatcher's voice echoed again and again over the speaker:
— "All patrols in the Shinjuku area, proceed to Ushigome-ku! I repeat, all patrols proceed to Ushigome-ku!"
Where was the backup? Damn it, where?! He snatched the radio from his belt, shoved it back, and pulled a pump-action shotgun off his shoulder. The harsh clack of the reload.
— "HOLD THE DEFENSE!" he barked, weapon raised.
The other officers took up positions, aiming carefully. The detainee, still holding the revolver, stood beside them, smirking.
— "Heh... This is some messed-up shit. If I'm gonna get shot, it'll only be after I drop a couple of these wannabe Romans!"
At that moment, the metal frame of the partition shattered. A massive two-handed sword tore through the glass, splitting it into shards. And then they charged in.
— "IMPERIUM SLAVA!"
The centurion's voice cut through the air, his bronze helmet gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the station. In his hand he gripped a sword slick with fresh blood. His eyes burned with battle-lust as he lunged forward, ready to land the first strike.
A booming shot. Buckshot ripped through the air, striking him square in the torso. He didn't even scream—there was only a sickening wet thud as steel pellets shredded his armor, turning his chest into a bloody pulp.
The centurion toppled backward, his body convulsing for a moment before going still. Blood splattered the floor, forming a dark, viscous pool beneath him.
— "DAMN IT! THEY'RE COMING THROUGH!" one of the officers roared, reloading his pistol.
The legionaries didn't even pause. They forced their way through the breach—shields first, spears extended, moving in unison, no hesitation.
The first warrior lunged, aiming to skewer an officer, but took a bullet to the neck. He jerked and fell, and the next one simply stepped over him, ignoring the corpse.
— "THESE BASTARDS JUST KEEP COMING!"
The criminal clutched the revolver, quickly reloading the cylinder amid the roar of gunfire and dying screams. His hands moved automatically, the result of countless street skirmishes over the years. The revolver's barrel, still hot from its last shot, aimed at the oncoming legionary.
He snapped his arm up, sighted along the barrel, and squeezed the trigger. The deafening shot echoed through the station, making the walls shudder for an instant. The bullet tore into the eye socket of one of the Empire's warriors, whose face was hidden beneath a massive bronze helmet. He convulsed, then collapsed like a broken doll onto the tiled floor. Even as he fell, his comrades pushed forward, stepping over his body with the unyielding determination they had likely used for centuries to conquer other worlds.
The criminal cursed under his breath, popping out the spent casings and reloading the gun, when something flickered in his peripheral vision. He barely caught sight of a long spear flying from the ranks of the legionaries before the impact hurled him backward.
For a split second, he felt no pain, only a sudden, crushing weight in his chest. Then came the heat—burning, sticky, spreading throughout his body. His gaze drifted downward, and there he saw the spear shaft protruding from his chest. Its tip had gone straight through him, glistening with blood, still quivering from the force of the throw.
Time slowed to a crawl.
The din of gunfire, the screams, the chaos of the subway—they all receded into distant echoes. He felt as though he were sinking underwater into a muffled, viscous silence. His fingers loosened, the revolver striking the tile floor with a dull metallic clang. His legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees, breathing heavily, feeling life slip away with his blood.
Black spots swam before his eyes. He tried to speak, but only a harsh breath escaped his mouth. He smiled.
— "What a load of crap..."
And then he fell face-first onto the floor, unmoving.
"DAMN IT! WE'VE GOT CASUALTIES!"
The sergeant's shout cut through the chaos of the station, rising above the clamor of panic, gunfire, and dying screams. The enemy had broken through.
The glass partitions—fragile barriers between life and death—gave way under the pounding of swords, halberds, and spears. Shards showered to the ground, glittering under the neon lights. Along with them, the first wave of the Empire's legionaries and knights surged in.
Their heavy boots thudded against the tiled floor, ancient armor clattering with every step, shields locking into a tight formation, and swords already raised behind them. This was no chaotic raid—this was a drilled assault, honed by countless battles.
The first strike fell upon a group of station employees who had tried to hide behind ticket counters and turnstiles. One legionary drove his sword straight through a uniformed man's stomach, pinning him on the spot. The man let out a rasping gasp, staring at the blade protruding from his back, then collapsed, clutching at the wound.
A woman in uniform stood frozen by the turnstiles, hands covering her mouth in horror. A knight in black armor didn't even slow down. His massive sword tore through her with a single brutal swing, drenching the walls in crimson.
"OPEN FIRE! DON'T LET THEM GET ANY FARTHER!" the sergeant bellowed, hefting his shotgun and unloading a shell directly into the face of the nearest legionary.
The soldier fell backward, his helmet clattering away. Beneath it was a bloody mess of ripped flesh and bone.
But the others kept coming. The officers fired everything they had. Bullets tore through armor, ripped flesh, leaving gaping holes—yet the legion did not retreat. They pushed forward through gunfire and death, accustomed to pain, blood, and conquest.
Close combat erupted. One legionary stormed a policeman armed with a Howa Type 89. Shouting something in his own language, he raised his shield and, before the officer could pull the trigger, slammed it into his face.
Bones crunched. The officer fell back, blood pouring from his nose, his rifle clattering across the floor.
The legionary gave him no chance to rise—the sword flashed overhead, then came slicing down, impaling the officer's chest. Screams of agony filled the station.
The sergeant smashed a knight with his shotgun's stock, but the knight didn't fall. He merely staggered, then snarled and hoisted his two-handed sword, driving the sergeant back with a powerful blow.
A crowd of people who hadn't managed to board the trains stood paralyzed, watching the subway turn into a grisly slaughterhouse before their eyes.
"EVERYONE GET ON THE TRAINS! NOW!" the sergeant shouted again, firing into another enemy's head.
And then an arrow came flying, striking the sergeant and passing cleanly through his jaw, lodging in the middle of his neck and severing the policeman's trachea.
Tokyo Police Dispatch Center, Shinjuku Ward March 27, 2030, 12:18 JST
Red lights blinked on the communication consoles; emergency channels were clogged with transmissions, but most messages came through only in fragments.
— "Patrol 24-5, we urgently need help! We're falling back! Dammit, they've surrounded us! We—"
Static interference.
— "Patrol 32-7, our posts have been overrun! These bastards... they're killing everyone!"
Crackling, screams, gunfire. The operators spoke frantically into their microphones, trying to coordinate units, but they themselves had no idea what was happening.
Chief Dispatcher Makoto Yamashita, a man in his early forties with rolled-up sleeves, tore off his headset, ran a trembling hand over his forehead, and slammed his fist on the table.
— "ALL POSTS! PROCEED TO SHINJUKU STATION AREA! THIS IS CODE BLACK! REPEAT, CODE BLACK!"
Behind him, the screens in the room flashed ominously. One of the operators switched the camera feed to show the street outside the station. Blood, fire, smoke. The massive Gate towered in the center of the square, pouring forth darkness—and more waves of enemies.
The legion filled the intersections, cavalry trampling the streets, chariots crushing cars, and beastfolk tearing through the alleys. An officer standing next to the dispatcher turned pale at the sight.
— "Dear God..."
Yamashita swept a pile of papers off the desk, clenching his fists.
— "DAMMIT! GET IN TOUCH WITH THE OTHER WARDS! SEND EVERY COP IN TOKYO THERE, NOW!"
One of the operators grabbed a microphone, switching to every available frequency.
— "This is Tokyo Police Headquarters! All units, proceed immediately to the Shinjuku area! Urgent reinforcements needed! This is not a drill! The city is under attack!"
Chaos buzzed in the room. Dozens of dispatchers feverishly worked their stations, communication officers tried to coordinate forces, and large screens showed emergency markers indicating captured areas. The red zones spread rapidly, covering the entire area around Shinjuku Station.
Yamashita tried to find some logical explanation for what was happening. But on the screens he saw nothing but a nightmare. People were fleeing, the streets were littered with bodies, legionnaires stormed buildings, breaking into the subway and underground passages. Police officers were dying one after another, cut down by swords. Armored vehicles couldn't arrive fast enough, and those already there simply couldn't stem the tide.
Suddenly, one of the operators shouted:
— "SIR! THERE'S AN AVAILABLE SH-60 SEAHAWK IN TOKYO BAY WITH MARINES ON BOARD! THEY WERE CONDUCTING EXERCISES!"
Yamashita spun around, eyes suddenly igniting with hope.
— "SEND THEM IN!" he bellowed, pounding his fist on the table, turning to the others. "NOTIFY THE MINISTRY OF INTERNAL AFFAIRS AND THE DEFENSE MINISTRY! SCRAMBLE EVERYONE! SAT, KIDOTAI, SPECIAL FORCES—DEPLOY THEM ALL!"
Operators hastily switched frequencies, contacting military channels.
— "Tokyo Police request immediate JSDF assistance! I repeat, we request immediate assistance!"
Central Shinjuku, Tokyo March 27, 2030, 12:25 JST
The rumble of engines, sirens, radio chatter—the streets were now filled with flashing lights. Several large armored buses and special vehicles turned onto the intersections, blocking the enemy's advance. Tires screeched, brakes squealed, and in the next second, side doors swung open, releasing units of Kidotai (機動隊)—the mobile riot police forces of Tokyo, trained to suppress mass disturbances and confront organized threats.
Wearing heavy armor and full-face helmets, wielding ballistic shields and batons, and armed with Howa Type 89 rifles, they began forming defensive lines.
Behind them, emerging from black armored vans, came the SAT (特殊急襲部隊)—Japan's elite police special forces, similar to SWAT—focused on counterterrorism, hostage situations, and heavily armed adversaries. The dull thud of boots on concrete.
The special forces quickly fanned out, moving in precise, practiced maneuvers. Meanwhile, dozens of regular patrol cars pulled up, their officers stepping out with anxious expressions, trying to grasp the reality of what they were facing. Almost the entire Shinjuku police force was there, along with a few reinforcements from neighboring departments.
They were used to street shootouts, gang fights, even terrorist threats—but not this. On their tablet screens and in their rifle sights, they saw bands of soldiers in medieval armor, maneuvering like an organized army, taking over the streets, cutting people down with swords.
It was a nightmare. And they had to stop it.
— "KIDOTAI, MOVE UP! FIRST LINE! BLOCK THE ENTRANCES TO THE UNDERGROUND PASSAGES!" — "SAT, SET UP A FIRE LINE! WE'RE GOING IN TO RETAKE THE METRO!" — "ALL UNITS! OPEN FIRE AT FIRST CONTACT!"
The troops raised their weapons. And within seconds, the first shots rang out.
Tokyo Bay, on board the SH-60 SeaHawk March 27, 2030, 12:25 JST
The helicopter's rotors droned in the air, the vibration of the fuselage resonating through the seats, the weapons, and the bodies of the soldiers inside. In the cockpit, radio chatter crackled, but the noise of the blades drowned out most of the words.
Lieutenant Kenzhiro Ito sat facing his squad—eight JMSDF Marines who, just an hour ago, had been carrying out routine exercises. Now they were flying straight into a hellish unknown, not even sure what awaited them.
Next to him sat Staff Sergeant Ryota Taniguchi, checking the magazine of his Howa Type 20, his expression grim and tense. Like the rest, he had no idea what they were heading into. Ito glanced at him briefly, then turned to the pilot.
— "Sir, what's happening?"
Silence. Light static over the radio.
— "Damn if I know... some crazy shit."
There was no standard military clarity in the cockpit. They didn't know who the enemy was, how many there were, or how bad the losses. A voice from police dispatch crackled over their headsets:
— "...I repeat, Code Black! We're losing control of Shinjuku! The streets have been overrun by unknown hostile forces—soldiers wearing ancient armor! They're destroying anything that moves! The police are taking heavy casualties—need military support, immediately!"
The Marines exchanged glances. Kenzhiro closed his eyes for a moment, trying to comprehend what he'd just heard.
What?!
He opened his mouth to ask something, but the pilot suddenly turned around.
— "Hang on! We're almost there!"
And in the next moment, Tokyo came into view beneath them. Ito looked down—and his stomach dropped.
Shinjuku was burning. Columns of black smoke rose over the streets, cars erupted into fireballs, and battles raged in the squares. The legion was moving through the streets like a well-organized army, breaking through police barricades, encircling buildings, storming the subways.
And at the center of it all—the Gate. Towering, ancient, anomalous, radiating a grim light in the middle of this nightmare. Kenzhiro held his breath, fingers digging into the seat straps.
— "What. The. Hell?"
Staff Sergeant Taniguchi leaned over to peer through the window, his face twisting in a mixture of horror and disbelief.
— "...This can't be real."
The pilot jerked the helicopter sharply to the side, skirting the columns of smoke.
— "Five minutes till we land!"
Lieutenant Ito inhaled, clenched his fists, then shouted:
— "Ready up! Weapons hot! We're going into hell!"
And hell was already waiting below.
Central Shinjuku, Tokyo March 27, 2030, 12:30 JST
The roar of the SH-60 SeaHawk's rotors ripped through the air, whipping up dust and debris from the devastated streets. The massive dark-gray helicopter hovered above the intersection, slowly descending between a Kidotai armored bus and a black SAT armored vehicle.
The moment its landing gear touched the asphalt, the side doors clanged open and JMSDF Marines poured out one after another. They quickly moved toward the police defense perimeter, dropping behind cover and bracing the stocks of their Howa Type 20 rifles against their shoulders, ready to open fire at a moment's notice.
Lieutenant Kenzhiro Ito stepped forward, his eyes immediately sizing up the situation. He saw the SAT forces holding the line, Kidotai blocking the streets, and police officers forming into squads, creating a living wall of defense.
His gaze met that of the SAT squad commander—a tall, wiry man fully kitted out, face concealed by a ballistic helmet and tinted visor.
The SAT commander smirked. He pivoted sharply toward his own people, flipped the safety off his rifle, and barked:
— "ALRIGHT! THE ARMY'S HERE!"
The Marines spread out along the perimeter, assuming fighting positions beside the police special forces. The SAT commander raised a clenched fist, signaling his men to stay focused.
— "KEEP CALM!"
Commands echoed through the streets, officers shouting orders, squads taking up defensive positions, patrol cars arriving in a steady flow.
— "HOLD THE LINE!"
The entire security force merged into one cohesive front.
A heavy thud rocked the Kidotai officer as a sharp arrow struck his ballistic shield with force. The impact jarred his weapon, but it didn't penetrate the defense—the arrowhead glanced off, leaving a shallow dent in the shield's surface.
The sound of the arrow was unfamiliar, alien. It wasn't the sharp crack of gunfire or the ping of shrapnel. It came from the distant past, something ancient, and that made the situation all the more frightening.
The officer gripped the shield's handle, his breathing ragged, but he didn't waver. Right behind him stood a JMSDF Marine, a Howa Type 20 rifle braced against his shoulder. He wasted no time—seeing where the arrow had come from, the Marine swung his aim in that direction and pulled the trigger.
A burst of automatic fire tore through the air. Thin streaks of tracer rounds pierced the space, smashing into a group of legionaries taking cover behind overturned cars.
One of the enemies—a lightly armored bowman crouched on one knee, another arrow ready—collapsed backward as bullets ripped through his chest. Blood splattered across the pavement. His body jerked and twitched a few times before going still.
The Marine didn't let up. He quickly shifted position, holding the rifle steady, continuing to suppress the enemy with gunfire while the Kidotai officers advanced under the cover of their shields, moving forward to form a mobile defensive line.
— "KEEP FIRING! DON'T LET THEM GET ANY CLOSER!"
A regular police officer stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with the JSDF Marine who was laying down heavy fire on the advancing legionaries.
He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't special forces. But at that moment, none of that mattered. He raised his SIG Sauer P320, pressing close against the Marine and using the kneeling Kidotai officer's shield for cover.
An arrow slammed into the ballistic shield with a dull clang, the shaft quivering from the impact—but the defense held. The police officer aimed quickly, steadily.
A shout rang out nearby: a leather-armored legionary charged forward, his spear already leveled at the defensive line.
One shot. Another. And a third.
Bullets tore through the warrior's neck, ripping open his throat in a burst of blood. His body slid forward on the asphalt from sheer momentum before coming to rest in a pool of its own blood.
The officer didn't pause, swiftly shifting his aim to the next target.
— "THEY'RE BREAKING THROUGH ON THE RIGHT!" someone yelled over the radio.
Kidotai shields shifted, forming a tight line, while SAT personnel set up a machine gun position, directing fire toward the alleyways where more legionaries were appearing.
A deep roar of an engine tore through the street as one of the armored Kidotai buses slowly rolled forward, its heavy tires crushing shards of glass and smashed road signs.
On top of the vehicle, a heavy water cannon swiveled, the nozzle gradually turning to aim directly at the densest cluster of enemies.
— "READY! FULL PRESSURE!" the operator bellowed, gripping the control levers.
Vrrrrrshhh!
A massive jet of high-pressure water burst forth, tearing into the formation of legionaries and hurling them backward. The Empire's warriors had never encountered such a weapon before.
Powerful streams pounded their bodies, knocking them off their feet, slamming their armor against the unforgiving ground, drenching their faces and making it impossible to breathe. Some panicked, stumbling back and trying to shield themselves, but even thick bronze plates offered no protection from the torrent.
One heavily armored knight tried to hold his ground, bracing his boots on the slick asphalt, but the next jet struck him square in the head, ripping off his helmet and flinging him onto his back.
— "HIT THEM HARD!" the Kidotai unit commander shouted as the water cannon deluged the crowd of enemies, shattering their battle lines.
Still, the legionaries continued their advance, fighting against the water's immense force. Their faces contorted with rage and pain, bodies knocked down again and again, yet they didn't retreat. Even as they lay soaked, hacking and coughing in the filth, they tried to stand and push forward.
— "TEAR GAS FIRE!" the Kidotai commander's voice rang out like a hammer stroke.
Immediately, the police shifted positions, every movement precise, synchronized, automatic. Each officer quickly secured a mask over his face, pulling a tight respirator into place. Then they raised shotguns—powerful Benelli M3s and Remington 870s loaded with specialized gas cartridges.
— "READY!"
Several dozen shotguns swung toward the enemy.
— "FIRE!"
The first volley.
Loud pops resounded as tear gas grenades were fired, hurtling into the crowd. They spun through the air like deadly comets, heading for the dense ranks of legionaries.
The second volley.
Grenades smashed against the pavement; some exploded midair, unleashing acrid clouds of gas right into the enemy's faces.
The third volley.
The street was swallowed in white haze. A toxic veil filled the roadway. The legionaries didn't know what was happening.
Some clutched at their faces, tearing off helmets in a desperate search for clean air. But there was none. The gas seeped into their lungs, tearing at them from the inside, searing their airways.
Eyes burned with tears, vision blurred, skin felt as though scorched by invisible flames. They screamed, choking on their own saliva, collapsing in wracking fits of coughs and retching.
Their discipline collapsed. Shields fell, spears slipped from their grasp.
These massive warriors, who just minutes ago marched in perfect formation, now stumbled about, blind, gasping for air like fish flung onto the shore.
Some tried to flee, retreating toward the Gate. Others, on the contrary, lurched forward, hoping to break through the toxic cloud and reach the enemy while they still could. It was a fatal mistake.
— "ALL UNITS! MOVE TO THE OFFENSIVE!"
The SAT commander made a sharp hand gesture, and the entire force—police, Kidotai, SAT, and the Marines—advanced in a single wave.
The special forces opened fire, short controlled bursts mowing down the scattered pockets of foes. The Marines fired precisely, picking off any who still resisted. The police pressed in behind them, covering the flanks and finishing off those writhing on the ground.
— "CRUSH THEM, GUYS!"
A policeman's shout cut through the cacophony of screams, gunfire, and clashing metal. He didn't think about fear. He didn't think about how he was facing an enemy that had been impossible in his world just this morning.
He just kept moving forward.
In his hand was a SIG P320 loaded with its last magazine. To his right was a Marine, keeping pace with him, a Howa Type 20 at the ready. The soldier's face was hidden by a ballistic helmet, but from the certainty of his movements—from the absence of any hesitation—it was clear he wasn't about to stop, either.
The police officer raised his weapon, picking out a target through the billowing gas, where enemies still staggered about—blinded, gasping for air, yet refusing to surrender.
— "FIRE!"
A bullet slammed into one of the legionaries' chests, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling. The Marine immediately followed up with a short burst of automatic fire, cutting down another warrior whose armor proved no match for modern ammunition. Blood spattered onto the stone pavement.
Ahead, a figure was swinging a sword, trying to reach the special forces. The police officer didn't slow his pace. Two shots. The legionary's head snapped back, his body collapsing into the milky fog, disappearing in the haze. The Marine redirected his fire to the flank, where two knights—miraculously not blinded—were trying to force back the advancing line.
— "ON THE LEFT FLANK! TAKE THEM DOWN!"
The police officer turned, raised his weapon—and fired three times in quick succession. The rounds tore into the warrior's neck and shoulder, making him waver and drop to his knees, clutching at his bloody throat.
The Marine finished off the second with a precise burst to the torso, sending the massive foe toppling backward, his sword striking the ground with a dull clang.
Legionaries, blinded by tear gas, driven mad by pain and fear, fell into despair. Their formations collapsed—commanders were dead or choking in clouds of chemical smoke, and the remainder were cornered.
That was when they charged. One last assault. With frenzied cries, their ragged voices torn, swords, halberds, and spears lifted high, their hands trembling yet still gripping their weapons.
Swords crashed against ballistic shields, dull thuds echoing as they scraped the surface and left deep dents.
But the Kidotai did not waver. The police huddled into a tight defensive formation, shields fused into an unbroken wall, reinforced by SAT operatives and Marines standing right behind them, weapons at the ready.
CLANG! CRUNCH!
Metal met polycarbonate, bronze met modern engineering.
One legionary snarled as he slammed into the line, his sword colliding with a shield, but in the same instant, a Kidotai officer's baton came crashing down hard on his shoulder, then onto the back of his head.
The crack of breaking bone. The warrior crumpled to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp, fingers twitching before going still. Another raised a halberd, preparing to strike a crushing blow, but from behind the shield emerged the stock of a Howa Type 20.
A dull thump to the chest. The legionary staggered, his legs faltered—but before he could recover, the rifle slammed upward, smashing him full in the face.
Bones cracked. A roar of pain. He fell backward, blood gushing from his shattered nose, his mouth opening in a desperate attempt to draw breath. He never managed it—an officer fired two pistol shots into his chest.
Their attack broke on the line like waves against a cliff. SAT operatives intercepted the closest foes, tripping them up, hammering them with rifle stocks, wrenching arms and breaking joints, finishing them with shots to the head or body.
Some legionaries, realizing it was over, tried to turn and run, but now they had no way out.
— "ADVANCE! CLEAR THE STREET!"
Kidotai officers moved in, shoving their shields forward, knocking enemies back, hemming them in against alleys, vehicles, and collapsed buildings. The Marines didn't hesitate. Bursts of automatic fire tore through the air, eliminating any who still resisted.
Center of the Saderan Empire Occupation Zone, Shinjuku, Tokyo March 27, 2030, 12:45 JST
Legate Bonapartius sat astride his massive black steed, his gilded armor gleaming in the sun, while the heavy stench of blood and char hung in the air. He surveyed his surroundings, studying this alien world with its towering steel structures, incomprehensible machinery, and roads paved with a strange, smooth material.
It was all... unusual.
He had already seen enough corpses of local residents lying in the streets—their bodies torn apart, their clothes soaked in blood, their faces frozen in expressions of shock. To him, it was a familiar sight—the landscape of conquest.
Suddenly, from the chaos of battle, a messenger burst forth, covered in grime, dust, and splattered blood, his labored breathing tearing at his chest. He fell to one knee, clutching his fist to his breast.
— "Legate Bonapartius! To the south, the local forces have routed an advanced detachment!"
The Legate slowly turned his head. His gaze lingered on the herald for a moment before returning to the horizon, where, amid the smoke, these alien, imposing buildings soared. He smirked.
— "Oh, so they know how to fight?" he said, tightening the leather reins and giving his horse's flank a slight nudge with his boot.
The animal shook its head, snorting discontentedly. His smile widened.
— "Very well."
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, and immediately officers of the legion approached, forming a semicircle around him.
— "It appears we are dealing not with defenseless lambs, but with wolves."
He grinned as he watched the flames from the burning buildings reflected in the polished bronze of his armor.
— "Let's see how they fare when the hunter becomes the prey."
He reined in his horse, issuing his command. The assault continued.
So, this is my first chapter about the TFR x Gate crossover. I really liked the idea of opening a Gate in the world of The Fire Rises, so I think I'm going to continue writing with enthusiasm. Thank you all for reading!
Kidotai — The Japanese Kidotai are special riot units in Japan used for crowd control and response to large public disturbances. They were formed after riots at the Imperial Palace in 1952.
SAT — The Special Assault Team (特殊急襲部隊, Tokushu Kyūshū Butai, SAT) is a police tactical unit maintained by individual Japanese prefectural police forces and supervised by the National Police Agency.