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Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 24. 08:00 Hours. Morning. Rodenius, Eastern Sea.

The sun rose high over a sky of unbroken blue, heralding the start of another long day for the 6th Flying Dragon Squadron. Despite their name, they did not ride true dragons; rather, they flew upon a subspecies known as Wyverns—creatures far easier to tame and train, yet still formidable in the air. These riders formed an integral part of the Qua-Toyne Principality's air force, one of three major powers occupying the Rodenius continent. The other two were the Quila Kingdom and, to the west, the Louria Kingdom.

While the Qua-Toyne and Quila Kingdoms had long-standing alliances and shared societies composed of humans and non-humans, the Lourian stance stood in stark opposition. An aggressively expansionist regime, the Louria Kingdom prided itself on human supremacy, having long since purged or exterminated all non-humans from its borders. Their doctrine, uncompromising and brutal, had turned regional tensions volatile.

This ideological chasm made daily patrols like today's a grim necessity. The threat of invasion loomed constantly on the horizon—no direction could be dismissed, no hour taken for granted.

Numerically and economically, the Lourians held a clear advantage. But what they lacked in raw arcane power and diversity, their neighbors held in abundance. Non-human citizens—from elves to beastkin—bolstered the military with unique strengths. The wildlands, too, offered unpredictable allies: ancient beasts, wandering giants, mythical horrors, and even whispers of a dragon nesting near the western frontier.

Still, none within the skies of Rodenius knew of the force now drawing near from the eastern edge of the world.

It was not of this continent. Not of this era. And its arrival would shake the very foundations of all three nations, changing the course of their world forever.

 

Rodenius, Eastern Sea – 6th Flying Dragon Squadron

The rhythmic beating of wings filled the air as the 6th Squadron soared along the eastern coastline. If not for the looming threat of invasion by sea, it might have been a serene morning—an opportunity to admire the sweeping views and ocean breeze. But this was no time for tranquility. Tensions ran high. Reports—fragmented but troubling—had been circulating, suggesting the Louria Kingdom was amassing a formidable navy. Rumors added further concern: whispers that Louria had somehow acquired cannons, the kind typically used by the advanced nations of the Third Civilization Area. Anxiety gripped the Principality, and the unease among its people was palpable—understandably so, given the stakes.

"This is Control. 6th, have you sighted anything?" a voice crackled over the manacomms, the enchanted communication devices embedded in each rider's helmet, enabling seamless coordination across great distances.

"Nothing so far," replied Maarpatima, the squadron leader. "Sea and sky are clear—no signs of ships or any unauthorized wyverns in our airspace."

"Good. None of the other squadrons have reported anything unusual either," Control responded.

"With any luck, it'll stay that way. We'd like to be back soon. Any developments along the border?" Maarpatima asked.

"Nothing new at this time. The watchtowers and outposts are all reporting a clean sweep. Looks like another quiet day. Complete two more passes of your current area and return to base. Our naval scouts should have their report ready shortly," said Control.

"Understood. We'll complete the patrol and return shortly. Keep us informed if anything changes," Maarpatima acknowledged.

He let out a quiet sigh, adjusting the reins as he guided his wyvern westward along the shoreline. He would make another sweep of the coastal region before circling back. This had become routine over the past several weeks. A part of him almost wished Louria would just strike already—better to face the storm now than let it continue to build. Yet a preemptive strike was unthinkable. Doing so would hand Louria exactly what it wanted—a justification for war, a validation of its hateful rhetoric against non-humans. For Maarpatima, it was clear: Louria wanted them to strike first.

"Louria… what are you planning?" he murmured under his breath.

"This might be another dull day," a rider said through the manacomms. "They've got us patrolling nonstop, but how could Louria even get here by sea? The sea breakers are treacherous, and those waters are full of monsters."

"Even the best ships from the Third Civilization Area would struggle in these waters. Honestly, I think Command is overreacting," another rider chimed in.

"Part of me agrees, but still—we have to stay vigilant," Maarpatima replied. "And it's not just Louria. Pirate activity and smuggling have been increasing. That's another concern we can't ignore."

With the bulk of their naval forces focused on monitoring Louria's routes, opportunistic raiders had grown bolder in the eastern sea. There were even unconfirmed reports of a small pirate enclave forming on one of the southeastern islands off Rodenius. But with resources stretched thin, no force had yet been deployed to verify or root them out.

"Hold on. Do you hear that?" one of the riders suddenly asked.

The squadron came to a halt. Apart from the usual sounds—the flapping of wyvern wings, the crashing of waves against the coast—there was something else. A growing roar echoed through the sky. Scanning the cloudless blue expanse, they spotted it: a black speck. Small at first, but closing in fast.

"What in the gods' names is that?" a rider exclaimed, pointing at the approaching object.

As it drew closer, the full enormity of the anomaly revealed itself. It was massive—far larger than any dragon they had seen—and eerily unmoving. Grey in color, it had no wings, no limbs, no visible means of propulsion, yet it emitted a deafening roar. The object sailed through the air with unnatural smoothness, on a straight trajectory, without even the slightest shift in its form.

"Command! We have a problem!" Maarpatima shouted into his manacomms, turning sharply to pursue. "A massive unknown object is heading straight for Maihark! We can't catch it—it'll reach the city in moments!"

Maihark was one of the Qua-Toyne Principality's major seaports and a vital trade hub. If this object posed any threat at all, the consequences would be catastrophic. The riders urged their wyverns into full flight, straining to close the distance—but the object was impossibly fast.

"It's no use, sir! We're flying at top speed—we can't catch it!" one rider called out in frustration.

"We still need to try!" Maarpatima shouted back, refusing to relent.

The 6th Squadron pressed forward with everything they had, but the mysterious object continued its course unhindered, vanishing toward the horizon. It showed no signs of slowing. No shifting, no turning—just unwavering flight. Within moments, it had disappeared from view.

And the sky fell silent once more.

 

Rodenius. Qua-Toyne Principality. Maihark. Wyvern Control Tower.

 

The transmission from the 6th Riders plunged the entire tower into sudden, urgent motion. Operators shouted over one another, couriers dashed through tight corridors, and the air thickened with the weight of something imminent. Outside, the warning bell tolled over Maihark, its mournful ring a cry of alarm that rippled across the city. At its sound, the citizenry reacted with swift precision—shutters slammed shut, doors locked, streets cleared as if choreographed by instinct. Whatever was approached had set the city's nerves on edge.

Within the control tower, personnel pressed in around the manacomms, straining to discern the garbled voice carried through the crystal's resonance.

"Repeat your last message—what exactly is coming our way?" one officer demanded, his breath fogging the crystal as he leaned closer.

"It's not moving any limbs, and it's flying fast—faster than any living thing I've seen. I don't even think it's alive," came the crackling response, the rider's voice distorted by interference. "I don't know what it is or what it intends, but it's headed straight for Maihark."

"Understood. We're initiating full defensive measures. Intercept it if you can. At the very least, track it," the officer ordered, already signaling for coordination teams to begin.

"We're trying… but it's too fast. It's just a speck now," the rider returned, a trace of awe mingling with frustration.

The room fell into tense silence for a moment as soldiers and officers exchanged glances. The rider's uncertainty, the very nature of the unknown, disturbed even the most seasoned veterans. Something unfamiliar approached—an enigma in the skies—and that alone made it dangerous.

"Deploy all wyvern squads! Man every fortress tower—archers and mages to the walls!" the commander thundered, his voice a lash of authority that cut through the din.

Orders were relayed in flawless rhythm. Outside, rows of wyverns were led from their pens, their powerful wings twitching with unease. Sensing the urgency in their handlers, they growled and snorted, smoke curling from their nostrils. Riders mounted swiftly, securing weapons and charms. One after another, the beasts launched into the sky, their wings beating with thunderous rhythm as they climbed into formation. In mere minutes, the skies above Maihark swarmed with wyverns.

"All units airborne, sir," an officer reported, saluting sharply.

"Good... Let us hope this isn't the prelude to our worst fears," the commander murmured, loud enough for those nearby to hear.

An attack from the Lourian Kingdom had long been anticipated. It was not a matter of if, but when. Yet this—this-this presence was different. Foreign. And perhaps far worse. If it was an omen of what was to come, their faith and steel alone would not suffice.

Beyond the walls, along the battlements lining the edge of the city, archers and mages waited in disciplined silence. Ballistas stood loaded and ready, all aimed at the heavens. At the front stood Captain Ine of the Maihark Defense Knight Corps, poised and still, her longbow in hand. Her gaze swept the vast eastern sky with the intensity of a seasoned hunter.

"Nothing yet… Did they say what direction or what it looked like?" asked an archer beside her, adjusting his grip.

"All we know is that it's coming from the east… and that it's big," Ine answered, her voice low, composed, but edged with unease.

"Comforting," someone muttered behind her.

"Quiet… Listen," Ine said suddenly, her brows furrowing.

The bell had ceased. In its place, a strange hum now rose—low, metallic, and growing. Heads turned. Eyes squinted toward the eastern sky. A black dot emerged from the horizon, barely visible at first. Yet it grew with disquieting speed and clarity. The air itself seemed to pulse beneath its advance.

Then, it breached the clouds.

It was massive. Metallic. Gray. Smooth and seamless in motion. It didn't flap wings or move appendages. It wasn't alive—but it moved with uncanny precision, as if guided by purpose beyond comprehension. Within moments, it passed overhead, eclipsing a wide swath of the fortress and casting a dark shadow over the city below.

"Gods above… Do we fire?!" one of the archers cried, eyes wide, his voice betraying disbelief.

Wyvern riders closed in, attempting to intercept. But the object accelerated, outpacing them with effortless velocity. It offered no aggression, no recognition, no reaction. It simply glided past—utterly unbothered—and continued westward at impossible speed.

Silence followed, oppressive and unnatural.

"So… it's not attacking?" Ine asked, bewilderment lacing her words.

It had flown past. A flyby, nothing more. Yet its presence lingered like the tremor after a quake. They all felt it—an unshakable certainty that something larger was unfolding. Something they did not yet understand.

"I think… we're in the clear," someone ventured at last, but the words rang hollow.

As the strange object diminished into the distance, vanishing like a specter into the west, those who remained on the walls stared after it in silent contemplation. What had it meant? Was it a scout? A warning? A prelude?

For the moment, the skies returned to stillness.

But it would not last.

Another encounter was coming.

 

Qua-Toyne Principality. Maihark Naval Base. Three days since the unknown object flew over Maihark.

As the day wore on, no further sightings of the mysterious object were reported over Maihark. According to scattered reports, it had passed silently over several other towns and cities, always without incident. It never attacked, never altered course—it simply moved, unchallenged and enigmatic. Yet, within the naval base, a sense of foreboding remained. To those stationed there, its behavior suggested something far more deliberate: reconnaissance. For Nouka, the commander of Maihark's naval forces, the true concern now was the sea. The object had come from the east—a region largely uncharted, consisting of nothing but miles upon miles of open ocean. Many had tried to explore it over the years, from merchants to adventurers of every stripe. All had failed. The reason: the so-called shipbreakers—cataclysmic storms and waves that tore apart even the sturdiest vessels and obliterated any hope of further exploration.

"Nouka… I've brought the latest report, sir. There's something of interest here," said an officer, stepping into the commander's office and standing at attention before his desk.

"Thank you. Everyone's been running themselves ragged. We've doubled patrols across all sea lanes, yet there's still been no sightings of that flying object," Nouka replied, taking the scroll from the officer and unrolling it with practiced ease. His eyes narrowed. "This report… It's nearly a week old."

"That's on us, sir. With everything that's happened, some dispatches were delayed. But this one stands out. It describes a sighting—an unknown ship. Not just unknown, but something... unprecedented. According to the witness, it's made entirely of metal. Enormous. Dwarfs anything in our fleet, anything we've ever heard of. It appeared, swept through the area, then turned back east."

Nouka set the scroll down slowly, fingers tapping against the desk in thought. "I've heard rumors of a distant nation that sails metal ships, but they're half a world away. Even if the stories are true, they shouldn't be able to reach us so easily."

He exhaled and leaned back in his chair, fatigue edging his voice. "And now we're stretched too thin to respond properly."

"What do you propose, sir?" the officer asked, eyes steady.

"I have contacts," Nouka replied, his gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the window. "Special ones. One of them owes me a few favors."

Over the years, he had cultivated discreet arrangements with individuals operating beyond the bounds of the Qua-Toyne Principality. These unofficial connections allowed him to keep certain dealings off the record and gather information through lesser-known trade routes and shadow networks.

Now, one such smuggler would need to settle an old debt.

Nouka only hoped the man was still capable—and that whatever was out there didn't bring more than they were ready to face.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH
Last edited: 8 minutes ago

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29. 12:35 Hours. Morning. Maihark Naval Base. Nouka's Office.

Another day had passed since the sighting of the massive flying object that soared over Maihark. While much of the civilian population had calmed, unease still lingered within the ranks of the Qua-Toyne Principality's military, which remained on high alert, wary of another potential incursion. Since yesterday, Nouka had been buried beneath a growing mountain of reports. Among them, three stood out—each detailing sightings of metallic ships in conjunction with the mysterious airborne object. The implication was clear: someone had been scouring the region. Given the history of the eastern seas, this was troubling enough. Yet, as of this morning, a new development had surfaced—one that was just as strange. A merchant vessel reported that the shipbreakers had apparently vanished. The ship had passed through the area without incident, a stark contrast to the usual, more cautious and roundabout routes previously taken.

Seated behind his desk, Nouka unfolded a scroll and reviewed the latest report.

"Hm… Sightings of lights in the sky… Another account of a metal ship… And now the shipbreakers are gone," Nouka murmured.

"It's a strange turn of events," an officer standing nearby replied. "As you instructed, we've doubled naval patrols across the region. So far, the waters are quiet. One more thing—according to a merchant who arrived yesterday, that flying object also passed over the Louria Kingdom."

"That's significant," Nouka said, straightening. "That means it didn't originate from Louria or any regional power—not even the Parpaldia Empire has anything like that. The only nations I can think of are Mu and the Holy Milishial Empire, but they're thousands of miles away, and I can't imagine either taking interest in this region."

The so-called great powers of the world. Nouka had heard tales from merchants and his time spent in the Parpaldia Empire—tales of Mu and the Holy Milishial Empire wielding technology leagues ahead of any other nation, granting them unmatched dominance. They were the only plausible sources of the metal ships and flying object in question. Still, another thought crept into his mind—one tied to an incident from two months ago, a flash of light witnessed across all of Qua-Toyne.

"This might be connected to that brilliant flash two months ago," Nouka speculated.

"Perhaps," the officer replied. "That was unusual. It lit up the sky across the entire continent, and it happened at night. Some people thought it marked the end of the world. There's been nothing since—until now. It's got people on edge again."

"And whatever that thing was… it passed through our defenses like they didn't exist. If it had hostile intent, we wouldn't have been able to stop it—or even slow it down. Unknown weapons. Unknown origin," Nouka said grimly. "And the unknown is the greatest threat. Especially with tensions rising with Louria."

"That it passed over Louria as well is concerning, sir. They might claim we were the ones who sent it. You know how they feel about non-humans—they're always looking for an excuse to provoke us."

"I know," Nouka said. "My contact should be arriving soon. Unlike us, he's not bound by naval protocol or governmental restrictions. He can go places we cannot. This may be our only chance to learn what's truly going on."

"Your contact… Ah, the smuggler," the officer said, frowning. "I still don't understand how you've kept that arrangement hidden—or how the government tolerates it."

"He owes me. I've helped him many times over the years, and he's returned the favor. Our relationship is purely professional. He's not tied to any government, which allows him to reach sources we can't touch."

"Right… Pirates and smugglers operating around here would give him quick access to information. But can he really be trusted with something like this?"

"He'll treat it like just another scouting run—searching the seas and reporting back. He's not the type to stab allies in the back," Nouka said firmly. "Besides, he's not my only contact. There are others, though they'll take longer to reach."

Over the years, Nouka had cultivated a network of operatives willing to go where official forces could not, circumventing borders and naval chokepoints that would cause diplomatic incidents if crossed by state-sanctioned ships. These individuals were free agents. If caught, they bore the consequences—not the government.

As he pondered this, a knock came at the door. It creaked open, and a naval officer stepped inside.

"Sir, a sloop just arrived at the docks. A Gnoll disembarked and asked for you by name. He says he has an appointment."

"That'll be him. Where is he now?" Nouka asked.

"Just outside, sir. I told him to wait after he mentioned your name and claimed you'd summoned him."

"Then bring him in. You and the other officer may leave us. This is a private matter."

"Understood, sir," the officer said with a nod.

"I'll return once you've concluded your meeting, so we can resume our discussion on current operations," the officer added as he rose from his chair.
Both men exited, the door closing behind them with a soft thud. A few moments later, one returned—with the Gnoll in tow. Gnolls, bipedal and hyena-like in form, bore humanoid features and a reputation for cunning. This one wore weathered leather gear and carried a slender rapier at his hip. He let out a low chuckle as the officer departed, the door clicking shut once more. With smooth confidence, the Gnoll settled into the chair across from Nouka's desk.

"Saltpaw… it's been some time. You haven't contacted me for weeks. Has something happened?" Nouka asked.

"I'd say a lot has happened," Saltpaw replied. "Not sure if you've heard, but there've been reports—sightings of metal ships. Strange glowing lights beneath the sea. And that's not even half of it… About a week ago, we came across the carcass of a kraken."

"What?" Nouka said, taken aback.

"Yeah… Found it adrift. The damage to the body wasn't from another predator. Entire sections were blown clean off. The wounds looked like they were made by massive explosions, not teeth or claws."

Kraken—apex predators of the sea. Only another kraken posed a real threat to them, and even then, such encounters were rare. The number of confirmed kills could be counted on one hand, and those who claimed it had always returned scarred. For someone or something to destroy one so completely, and leave no trace of struggle—it suggested a power far beyond anything they understood. A power unchallenged, and now unaccounted for.

"Where is the body now?" Nouka asked.

"We left it adrift. By now, it could be anywhere… But one thing's clear—something out there means business. I assume you've seen the flying behemoth?"

"Did you see it?" Nouka asked.

"Nearly everyone at sea that day did. The roar, the shadow… that thing wasn't natural. Its body didn't move—no wings, no propulsion that I could see. Just silence and speed. Faster than anything organic. I've seen my share of strange things out there, but this? This was something else."

"Did you happen to see which direction it was headed?" Nouka asked.

"East. That's the odd part—those seas are no-go zones. Shipbreakers and sea monsters make them impassable. But that kraken's corpse? That tells me something or someone is clearing the waters. You don't kill something like that without a reason… or maybe the kraken was simply in the way."

"I've received similar reports. The shipbreakers seem to be gone. That alone is troubling. But to think something could kill a kraken so casually, just for being in its path—that's terrifying. And with that unknown craft flying overhead…" Nouka paused, then continued, "This is where the favor comes in. I know it's risky, but I can't spare any of our forces right now. The unknown is the greatest threat."

"I can guess the favor already. You want me to sail east, scout the area, and report anything unusual, right?" Saltpaw said.

"I wouldn't ask this of anyone else. Only someone who hasn't failed before—someone with one of the fastest ships afloat. We're on the brink of war as it is. No one wants to say it, but the Louria Kingdom is biding its time."

"That kingdom… You're probably right. I slipped through one of their sea lanes a few days ago. They've been assembling a massive fleet. And there's something else—they've been pouring gold into pirate factions. Why, I can't say. They've always cracked down on smugglers and raiders before. But now? The stories swirling around Louria aren't encouraging."

"What kind of stories? And how did you hear them?" Nouka asked.

"Merchants. Get them the right drink or the right company, and their lips loosen quickly," Saltpaw said with a low chuckle. "Anyway… what I've heard is that Louria is throwing everything into a fleet buildup. But here's what's got me worried—they've been trading with the Parpaldia Empire for armor plating and cannons for their ships."

"The Parpaldia Empire… I've had scattered reports of their involvement in Louria's militarization. But why would they deal with them at all?" Nouka asked. "Regardless, this confirms our suspicions. They're preparing to win, no matter the cost."

"They're fanatics, if you ask me. All that rhetoric about exterminating non-humans—it's madness. Let's say they succeed in taking over the region. Then what? Looks like they've wrecked their economy already for this campaign."

"Land-grabbing zealots rarely think ahead. Most of the territory they're eyeing in Qua-Toyne isn't even worth the effort," Nouka said. "Still, I appreciate the information. Now, back to the real task at hand. I want you and your crew to sail east. Examine the waters. Confirm whether the shipbreakers are truly gone. Investigate the sightings—both the vessels and that thing in the sky."

"I can do that… but you know it'll cost you later," Saltpaw said with a smirk.

"I know what the cost is. We've done this many times before. Just get back to us the moment you see—or hear—anything."

With those words, the next sequence of events was set in motion—events that would lead to an encounter no one could have foreseen.

And the consequences would echo across the world.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29. 12:35 Hours. Morning. Maihark Dockyard.

After he met with Nouka, Saltpaw made his way down one of the streets lining the dockyard of Maihark, heading toward his sloop. Over the years, he'd done plenty of business with Nouka—off the books, of course—since he wasn't bound by the laws of any kingdom. But one thought lingered on his mind: that enormous flying object in the sky. Oddities were common in this world, but that thing was on a different level entirely. The East remained largely unexplored for several reasons—the shipbreakers chief among them, along with the sea monsters. Yet something had killed one of the Krakens that roamed those waters with terrifying ease. That, more than anything, was troubling.

"Hmm… This should be fun," Saltpaw muttered to himself.

Around him were vessels belonging to the Qua-Toynian navy and merchant fleet, along with others from nearby nations: the Fenn Kingdom, the Gahara Thearchy, and the Altaras Kingdom—all within sailing distance. Trade was the lifeblood of the region, and each realm had nurtured steady relations over time. But the looming threat of the Louria Kingdom cast a long shadow.

"Fanatics… Just because you've had a few bad run-ins with the wilder demi-humans doesn't mean you get to brand us all as monsters," Saltpaw said under his breath.

This world was filled with all kinds of non-humans who coexisted with humans. Yet there were still a handful who lived by brutal laws—predators who saw humans as prey. Though their numbers were small across the Rodenius Continent, they were enough for Louria to generalize, to label all non-humans as threats to be exterminated.

Taking a few more steps, he veered off the street and onto one of the wooden docks. His eyes landed on a modest sloop tied up nearby—the Saltybitch. It wasn't the prettiest ship in the port, nor the largest, but it was the fastest. Its crew, a blend of humans and non-humans, was lean and efficient. Not many, but enough to handle cargo runs and the occasional smuggling job.

"Ah! There you are, Saltpaw. So… what was that all about, might I ask?" a voice called.

It was Nedes, a human crewmember, leaning lazily over the railing of the sloop.

"Looks like we're heading east. Nouka's got a job for us—wants us to investigate. Apparently, the shipbreakers are no more," Saltpaw said as he approached.

"What? Really? Huh… Well, if that's true, then it might open up new routes for us. Still, that kraken corpse has me worried. What in the Hells could've killed it?" Nedes asked.

"No clue. That's part of what we're supposed to find out. We're to sail east, scout, and report back." Saltpaw nodded firmly.

"We're heading out now, or do you need time to plan the route?" Nedes asked.

"Need a bit of time. We can't just sail blindly east. I've got a path in mind—it follows a line of islands. No one's gotten far past them, not with the shipbreakers around. But if they're truly gone… We'll follow that path and see what we find," Saltpaw said, making his way up the ramp onto the deck.

"Those islands should let us resupply if needed—food, water, even shelter if a storm rolls in. We'll have the Bitch ready when you give the word," Nedes said.

"Good. Shouldn't take long. Just have the crew prepped. You know how Nouka is—he'll want reports fast." Saltpaw clapped him on the shoulder as he passed.

Nedes nodded and descended the ramp. Around the deck, the crew of the Saltybitch moved with renewed energy, having overheard the exchange. Getting out to sea wasn't the challenge—it was what waited out there. Sea monsters were a constant threat, and while most could be outrun, a few could keep pace. And then there were the hurricanes. Around this time of year, the seas were especially volatile.

Saltpaw headed for the captain's quarters at the stern. He grasped the door handle, stepped inside, and shut it quietly behind him. The cabin was modestly and sparsely decorated. A desk sat to the right, and a bed was tucked against the far wall. Under the covers, someone stirred. He didn't speak, instead stepping silently behind the desk and pulling a rolled map from a drawer. He spread it out, anchoring the corners with lead weights.

"Now… where to start…" Saltpaw murmured, studying the map.

Dozens of sea routes were marked, each leading to potential danger. He had to avoid patrol routes and shipping lanes watched by the local powers. Smugglers like him were hunted as mercilessly as pirates. His finger traced over the islands in the eastern chain—remote, dangerous, and seldom visited. A sound interrupted his thoughts.

From the bed, the covers shifted. A figure sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Mmm… Saltpaw… love… you're back already? What did Nouka want this time?" the woman asked.

Her name was Alenia—an elf with white hair and dark grey skin.

"He called in a favor. Wants us to head east. Says the shipbreakers are gone. And with that strange thing flying overhead recently, he wants answers," Saltpaw said.

"What? They're gone?" Alenia tossed off the covers, sliding off the bed and walking over to him. "I was wondering about that thing… I've lived three hundred years, and I've never seen anything like it."

"Same for everyone else. Whatever it was, it flew across the region—and back along here. Should be open ocean, but now? Who knows. Bet it even passed over Louria." Saltpaw leaned back in his chair.

"That place… They're not the first humans I've seen to become obsessed with the idea that everyone's out to get them. Last time something like that happened… when they ran out of enemies, they turned on themselves," Alenia said with a bitter laugh.

"You've told me that story before. And you might be right. But I don't want to see Qua-Toynes dragged into a war because of those fools," Saltpaw said.

"I know, love. I feel the same way." Alenia stepped behind him and gently scratched under his chin. "But before we set out… I'd like a little time with you. Just the two of us. Think we can manage that?"

"Ah, Alenia… Oh, hells—why not? Not like we're under a deadline," Saltpaw replied with a chuckle.

They had been together for a long time. A moment of closeness before sailing into the unknown wasn't just welcome—it was necessary. As they embraced in the quiet of the Saltybitch's cabin, out west, others were beginning to move, setting into motion the events that would change their world.

 

Rodenius Continent — Louria Kingdom — Jin-Hark, Castle Hark

As the sun traced its arc across the sky, far from the lands of the Qua-Toyne Principality and the Quila Kingdom, the Louria Kingdom was hard at work, preparing for what was to come. Among its people, it was no secret: preparations for war against the two non-human kingdoms had been underway for over a decade. During that time, the kingdom had built up a massive army, meant to conquer and dominate the entire continent. But that decade-long buildup had come at a steep price, nearly bankrupting the kingdom. Winter loomed on the horizon, and if they could not secure victory soon, the collapse of their economy—and the kingdom itself—was a certainty.

Within the grand chamber of Castle Hark, a war council was underway, orchestrating the final plans for the upcoming crusade.

The flickering torchlight lit the stone chamber, shadows dancing along the walls. Seated around a vast circular stone table, the Royal Council worked tirelessly. Presiding over the session was the 34th King of Louria, Haag Louria XXXIV. Accompanying him were his most trusted advisors:

General Patagene of the Kingdom Defense Knights Order

Prime Minister Maos
The Three Great Generals: Pandor, Miminel, and Smark
The Royal Magician's Chief, Yamirei
"I know it has been a long and trying time for our people," King Haag began, his voice firm, echoing within the chamber. "They have sacrificed much in our sacred mission of purifying this continent of non-human filth. But before we begin final arrangements… has there been any word on the massive flying entity that passed over our capital?"

"We've received no updates," Patagene replied. "We know it came from the east and returned in that direction. I suspect it belongs to Qua-Toyne, but even that seems unlikely. Beyond the roaring noise it made, there were no indicators that it originated from them."

"Curious," Yamirei muttered. "It didn't flap its wings. Its form was rigid, its speed immense—beyond even our finest wyverns. At first, I assumed it to be a magical construct, but there was no aura, no magical presence. In all my years, I've never seen or heard of anything like it."

Yamirei was one of the oldest and most learned mages in the kingdom. For him to admit ignorance was rare—and deeply unsettling.

"I ordered a wyvern squadron to pursue it," General Pandor added. "But it flew too high. It didn't even acknowledge them—just soared westward before doubling back, almost mockingly, then disappeared. No further sightings since."

"Keep watch on the eastern horizon," Haag ordered. "And speaking of the east… something interesting has come to my attention," Smark interjected.

"Oh?" the king said, his interest piqued.

"A merchant I'm acquainted with trades with the Parpaldian Empire. We'll need to speak of them later, but according to reports from further east, metal ships have been seen. The only nation we know of capable of building such vessels—at least, that Parpaldia has mentioned—is Mu."

The name gave the room pause.

Across the vast seas, Parpaldia maintained secretive ties with empires far beyond Louria's sphere. Mu, a technological marvel of a nation, was one of them, possessing power and industry that dwarfed even Parpaldia. Most in Louria had only heard whispers of its existence.

"I find it hard to believe it's Mu," Maos said with a skeptical tone. "We have sources, too, and even if they managed to bypass the shipbreaker islands, how would they survive the sea monster swarms?"

"Then who else could it be?" Smark challenged.

"A fair question," the king said, fingers steepled. "Miminel?"

"I suggest dispatching a fleet. We can spare the ships to investigate the eastern region," she proposed. "If Your Majesty permits it."

"Granted. We must ensure nothing disrupts our campaign. Investigate and report back," Haag said.

The kingdom's ambitions had been carefully cultivated for decades. From their founding, they had expanded, annexing smaller kingdoms and spreading their doctrine of human supremacy. Much of their recent propaganda and internal unity came from the promise of eliminating non-human influence. Now, their crusade was at the brink of being realized.

"Our harvest should provide the final supplies needed," Pandor reported. "But if we're repelled and winter sets in… we risk starvation."

"Our people are already strained," Miminel added. "We've sold much to Parpaldia for arms and training. But their instructors haven't taught us how to make their black powder. They withhold knowledge."

"I've studied their cannons," Yamirei said, shaking his head. "There's no magic involved. And yet, their power rivals that of a high-class mage."

For ten years, Louria had traded everything of value—including royal artifacts—to Parpaldia in exchange for weapons and advisors. It was a dangerous gamble: their debt was immense, and failure would bring ruin.

"On another note… have our sappers completed preparations for the initial strike?" Haag asked.

"Progressing as scheduled," Smark replied. "They're targeting aqueducts, dams, bridges, dockyards—any infrastructure of strategic value."

"Excellent," Haag said with cold satisfaction.

Though Louria had overwhelming numbers and advanced arms, many non-humans possessed innate strength far beyond human soldiers. To level the battlefield, they had infiltrated enemy territory with spies and saboteurs, aiming to cripple logistics before the invasion began. Targeted assassinations of key figures were already underway.

"The fleet is assembled," Miminel said. "We'll dominate the sea. Once we destroy their naval forces, we'll impose a blockade."

"And their allies?" Pandor asked. "The surrounding kingdoms rely heavily on trade with Qua-Toyne. If we strike, they may intervene."

"They lack the fleet to challenge us. Once the blockade is active, we'll deter any interference. I propose deploying a thousand ships to sweep the northwest. Any incoming vessels should be repelled, not destroyed. We don't want to create unnecessary enemies," Pandor replied.

"Unnecessary or not, we will make enemies," Patagene said grimly. "There are plenty of human fools who idolize non-humans. One Qua-Toyne scout, according to our reports, is even consorting with the dragon."

"What?" Maos blurted. "Someone is fraternizing with that creature?"

"That's how we confirmed the rumors were true," Patagene replied. "Our spy followed him. The dragon is massive—we still lack details beyond its location, but the implications are grave."

"Fascinating," Yamirei said, eyes narrowing. "It's rare, but history speaks of dragons developing affinities for certain humans. Still… if it's nearby, it presents our greatest obstacle. A single dragon could rout our forces."

"We're collecting intelligence—tracking its behavior," Patagene said. "A full report should be ready within the week."

"Winter is only a month away," Haag said. "We double our efforts. No more delays."

The room fell into a brooding silence. There were still many problems left to solve—the unknown origin of the flying object, the looming threat of the dragon, the uncertain loyalty of their instructors, and the fragile state of their economy.

But one truth remained clear to all: Nothing would stand in their way. They would conquer this land—or reduce it to ash, trying.

 

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29 — Parpaldia Empire — Esthirant — Imperial Strategy Bureau

Across the sea to the northwest of the Rodenius Continent lay a massive landmass known as Philades, a continent dozens of times larger than Rodenius. Home to numerous kingdoms, one among them stood far above the rest: the Parpaldia Empire, one of the world's reigning superpowers. For years, Parpaldia had expanded its influence through economic leverage, political manipulation, and when necessary, military force. It was the largest and most powerful nation within the region referred to by the world as the Third Civilization Area.

Inside a stylish office within the Imperial Strategy Bureau, plans were beginning to take shape—plans designed to cement Parpaldia's dominance over Rodenius. Due to the sheer distance and the natural maritime threats that plagued the sea routes, Parpaldia had opted for indirect control: extending aid to the Louria Kingdom. Though such aid had accumulated decades of debt, it was a calculated investment. With Louria beholden to them, Parpaldia could eventually establish its foothold on the continent.

Sitting behind an ornate desk, Inos, a high-ranking strategist of the bureau, looked up from a fresh report. His eyes turned toward his subordinate, Parso, who had just provided the latest update on the situation.

"Hmm… So, they're still behind schedule on the official date for their invasion?" Inos said, voice laced with disdain. "It sickens me that we must align ourselves with such people… but unfortunately, they're the ones who offer us the best results."

"I feel the same, sir," Parso replied. "Their views on non-humans are extreme—barbaric even. We, after all, have a sizable non-human population of our own. Still, the Lourians are our most viable option. The Qua-Toyne Principality is too soft to work with, and the Quila Kingdom offers us nothing of value."

"With any luck, the population will flee before the invasion," Inos said coolly. "But regardless, we are not to interfere or reveal our involvement. Our hand must remain hidden—for now."

He placed the report aside. "Now, what is this you mentioned earlier about some metal beast in the sky?"

"Yes, sir. The report comes from one of our ships stationed in the eastern sea," Parso explained. "They sighted a massive metal flying object—something far larger than anything we've encountered before. According to them, it flew east and vanished from sight. The crew reported a loud roaring noise as it passed overhead."

"It wasn't anything from Mu, was it?" Inos asked.

"No, sir," Parso said, shaking his head. "Far too large. It didn't match any known Mu technology."

"I see… Dispatch a small scouting team eastward," Inos ordered. "Yes, I know the shipbreakers are still a factor, but this… this is something entirely unknown. We need answers—for the safety and stability of our homeland."

"As you command, wise sir," Parso said, bowing slightly.

There was much riding on their alliance with the Louria Kingdom. It was a delicate web of strategy and ambition. The last thing Parpaldia needed now was an unknown force disrupting their plans.

And yet—unknown to all present—what was coming would not only disrupt their schemes…
It would change the fate of the entire world.

 

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29. 2:37 Hours. Afternoon. East Sea. Salty Bitch. Saltpaw's Cabin.

Sailing steadily across the largely uncharted East Sea, the Salty Bitch had long departed Maihark. This expanse of ocean remained largely unknown, absent from most maps and avoided by all but the most daring. Shipbreakers, sea monsters, and tempestuous storms made the region feel as though the gods themselves had decreed it untouchable. Over the years, countless adventurers had attempted to chart its depths, only to be repelled by its fury—or vanish without a trace. The crew aboard the Bitch was seasoned and daring, accustomed to risky smuggling runs and secret dead drops along the Parpaldian sea routes, but even they were uneasy. The risks here were unlike any they'd faced. And worse—there was no telling what lay ahead.

Inside the dim cabin that bore his name, Saltpaw lay reclined on a bed, propped up by a row of worn but comfortable pillows. He sipped from a bottle of wine before casually setting it on the shelf beside him. Alenia lay nestled beneath his right arm, her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers gently tracing the fur along his chest.

"Mmm… I do enjoy moments like this," she murmured. "We've been constantly moving the past few days. It's rare we get a moment to breathe—and something tells me it's going to stay that way. Still… I can't shake the feeling that whatever's out here, to the East, is going to be quite the experience."

"No one's ever made it far beyond the chain of islands," Saltpaw replied, his voice low and thoughtful. "That's where the real mystery begins. Beyond them… it's pure void. Untouched. Unclaimed."

"And ripe with opportunity," Alenia added. "If we chart it correctly, this could put us on the map—literally. I know more than a few nobles who would pay handsomely for updated charts. But let's not forget Nouka's mission. We'll deal with his demands, and then, perhaps… indulge in a few side ventures of our own."

Despite the dangers, the Eastern Sea was not entirely unknown. A few had managed to slip through, establishing tenuous sea lanes or discovering remote islands ideal for outposts. Rumors abounded of the elusive sea-folk settling there—creatures drawn to the natural defenses of shipbreakers and sea beasts. To outsiders, the sea-folk inspired fear; a consequence of warped tales and centuries of half-truths.

"We've done mapping work before. There's profit in it," Saltpaw said. "But speaking of strange things, what do you make of that thing in the sky?"

"I couldn't say," Alenia replied, her eyes narrowing at the memory. "But it reminds me of the legends about the Ravernal Empire. Stories tell of them commanding massive flying constructs. Not like any bird or beast—rigid forms with no wings flapping, no tails, no motion at all. Just sheer, silent power."

Saltpaw shuddered. "I've heard those tales too—but never believed them. If that's what we saw, then may the gods help us all."

"There was that flash of light months ago," Alenia continued. "Everyone remembers it. Some say it was visible across the entire continent—even as far as Parpaldia. It doesn't match the prophecy exactly—day didn't turn to night—but the symbolism… it's close enough to worry me."

The Ravernal Empire—an ancient scourge—had once descended upon the world like a plague. Treating all other races as inferior, they conquered with brutal efficiency, crafting grotesque tools and trophies from the skins of their victims. But their atrocities did not go unanswered. In time, the gods struck them down, casting a meteor upon their capital. All that remained, legend says, was a scorched tablet bearing a single sentence that still sends chills down spines:

"At the day of our return, the world will once again prostrate before us."

For generations, seers and scholars had searched for signs of their return. But over time, the prophecy had dulled into myth—something forgotten by all but the paranoid and the wise.

"Your merchant friends certainly gave you interesting intel," Saltpaw said. "You told me that flash was seen all the way from Parpaldia?"

"A few drinks and good company can loosen even the tightest lips," Alenia smiled slyly. "Anyway… are you heading out now? I'm going to get a bit more rest. I didn't sleep much last night."

"It was a rough sea. I barely slept myself," Saltpaw agreed. "I'll keep an eye on things. If anything important happens, I'll come wake you, love." He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.

"Don't overwork yourself," Alenia said softly. "Nouka's probably tangled in Qua-Toynian politics for a few more days, so we've got time. I just hope nothing goes wrong while we're gone. This whole situation with Louria… it worries me."

Saltpaw gave her a long, thoughtful look. He shared her concern. The Lourian Kingdom had made no secret of its genocidal intent toward non-humans. For the past decade, they had purged their lands of all other races, driving out or exterminating those who stood in their way. Qua-Toyne had built up a respectable defense, but Louria held the advantage in numbers and resources. Their fate was uncertain, and the future grim.

"If things go south, we'll do what we must," he said. "But for now—rest, my love."

Sliding out from beneath the covers, Saltpaw retrieved his clothes and dressed. As he moved to the door, Alenia called after him, her voice tinged with playfulness.

"Tonight, if you're free, there's a bottle of Dragondew White in the hold. Got it after our last drop. Might be nice to share."

"I wouldn't miss it," Saltpaw said with a chuckle. "And here's hoping Nedes doesn't steer us into a reef again. 'Clear skies,' he said—then crack, we're paying out the nose for repairs."

"It wasn't that bad," Alenia countered. "And to be fair, the lookout on the front deck wasn't exactly doing his job."

Their misadventures had cost them plenty in time and gold, and both silently prayed this voyage would be smoother. With a final glance, Saltpaw stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.

The deck was alive with activity. Crew members tightened sail lines, kept watch, or shared idle chatter as the Salty Bitch sliced through the sea.

"Ah, there you are," Nedes called from the helm above. "All clear so far. Calm winds, smooth waves, no sign of anything odd yet."

"That's good to hear," Saltpaw replied as he climbed to stand beside him. "We're still a ways off, but the first islands should appear soon. That's when the real work begins."

"They're the only markers out here," Nedes said, nodding. "I'd rather have time to prepare before something finds us. How's Alenia?"

"Resting. She pushed herself hard in port, gathering intel. She'll be out of commission for a bit."

"Lucky her," Nedes muttered. "I could use a nap myself."

"If things stay quiet, we'll rest on the third island," Saltpaw said. "Make landfall for the night, take stock, then press on."

"Good plan, Captain," Nedes said. "Let's just hope those islands are unoccupied."

Saltpaw gave a low chuckle. Both men gazed out at the sea, the wind tugging at their cloaks. The journey ahead would be long, and the island chain marked the last known threshold. Beyond it—there were no maps, no names, only the unknown.

Their task was simple in theory: find out what lay beyond. Determine if the shipbreakers were truly gone. Explore what none had survived before.

As the Salty Bitch pressed eastward through the quiet sea, far away in the Qua-Toyne Principality, a meeting of critical importance was already underway.

The world was beginning to change.

 

Rodenius Continent. Qua-Toyne Principality. Qua-Toyne. Lotus Garden.

As the sun arced across the sky, golden rays pierced the dense forest canopy surrounding Qua-Toyne, the capital city of the Principality. The landscape was a harmonious blend of untamed nature and modest civilization, where sprawling farmlands met ancient woodlands. This symbiosis owed itself largely to the elven majority, who shaped the capital's growth with reverence for the land. Nestled within this natural splendor was the Lotus Garden, a serene pond dotted with water lilies, home to frogs and koi, and framed by a cascading waterfall. At its center, a small stone island housed a circular table, where six seats were occupied by the Principality's most senior ministers—each steward of a crucial branch of governance.

Kanata, Prime Minister

Rinsui, Minister of Foreign Affairs

Kastor, Minister of Military Affairs

Orlan, Minister of Information Analysis

Aldred, Minister of Trade

Yven, Minister of Mining
Today, the ministers gathered to address two pressing concerns: an unknown object that had violated their skies, and the growing threat posed by the Lourian Kingdom.

"I'll begin," Orlan said, breaking the silence. "No doubt you've all heard about the mysterious object that flew overhead a few days ago. I've exhausted all my intelligence channels, and not one has been able to identify it. It came from the East and returned in that direction—but no further sightings have been reported since."

"The Eastern Sea may be empty on our maps, but this object proves otherwise," Kastor added, arms folded. "Its speed rivaled that of a dragon—our wyverns couldn't hope to match it. Though it displayed no aggression, the fact that it penetrated our airspace with such ease is alarming. If it had chosen to attack… I'll be blunt: we wouldn't have stood a chance."

"That fear is shared across the border," Rinsui said. "The Quila Kingdom reported the same object flying over their territory. King Beldir Lonkehak sent word: the thing soared directly above Barrat, and now his people are rattled."

"Our own citizens are no less unsettled," Kanata said gravely. "But with no leads, speculation will get us nowhere. Let's move on. What's the latest intelligence on Louria's military posture? Any movements near the border?"

"Not directly," Orlan replied. "However, our scouts report early harvests across Lourian farmlands and the relocation of livestock to urban centers. It appears they're preparing for a prolonged campaign. Diplomacy has bought us time, but nothing more."

"We should've seen this coming two years ago," Aldred muttered bitterly. "They severed all trade under the pretense of an outbreak originating from one of our beastkin towns. I bent over backwards trying to salvage our economic ties—but their hatred is blinding. They accused me of betraying humanity."

"In their eyes, any human who allies with non-humans is already a traitor," Kanata said somberly.

"If war does break out, our navy is the weak link," Kastor warned. "Even with assistance from the sea-folk, Louria's fleet outnumbers ours significantly. Their latest reports estimate over four thousand ships and ground forces in the hundreds of thousands."

"I attempted one last diplomatic mission," Rinsui added. "Tried to reason with them—emphasize coexistence. I was punched in the face, dragged from their capital, and warned that next time, I'd be killed. There's no reasoning with zealots chasing a twisted dream."

"There's more," Yven said. "I've had to suspend mining operations near the western frontier. Bandits have been striking our convoys and outposts. The attacks are too precise, too coordinated to be random. I suspect Lourian involvement—but no evidence yet. An adventurer team raided one of the camps and found nothing that directly implicated them."

"They're being smart," Kastor remarked grimly. "No flags, no documentation, no weapons unique to Louria. We can't accuse them without proof—it would play right into their hands."

"Can we at least assign more adventurers to those areas?" Kanata asked. "We can't afford to lose those mines—they're vital to our economy."

"That's already in motion," Yven replied. "The attacks have intensified over the past three weeks. So far, they've focused on stealing cargo, not killing our workers—but that could change."

"Next time one of those camps is cleared," Orlan interjected, "I want to send a forensic team. Anything—maps, papers, even clothing—might offer us a thread to pull. Speaking of Louria, there's another matter. I've uncovered troubling intelligence: they're deeply indebted to the Parpaldia Empire."

"What?" Rinsui exclaimed. "Parpaldia is supporting them? Why would they involve themselves in this conflict?"

"I've heard whispers," Kanata said cautiously. "Sighting of Parpaldian vessels in the northwest. I didn't think they were supplying Louria, though."

"They are," Orlan confirmed. "Unknown cargo, marked with the imperial seal, has been delivered to Lourian military sites. These crates are transported directly to their training grounds. We've also picked up reports of loud detonations—training exercises, most likely."

"Explosions?" Kastor leaned forward. "Gods… That can only mean one thing: Parpaldian cannons. I've studied them—never seen one fired—but a single well-aimed shot from those is enough to bring down a giant. If Louria's arming with those, they're not just posturing. They're preparing for war."

"Parpaldia wouldn't offer such weapons freely," Rinsui said, eyes narrowing. "That kind of firepower comes with strings attached. If Louria is borrowing so heavily, they'll end up as a client state—a puppet on a gilded leash."

"We need allies," Rinsui continued. "Now. Not later. Winter's approaching, and Louria will want to strike before it sets in. We must prepare."

"I agree," Kanata said firmly. "Once this meeting concludes, I'll contact the Fenn Kingdom, the Gahara Thearchy, and the Altaras Kingdom. With luck—and divine favor—they'll answer the call. If we can hold out until winter, we may yet turn the tide."

Though Qua-Toyne and Quila were not without allies, distance and politics posed significant obstacles. All three kingdoms maintained economic ties with Parpaldia, and if the Empire truly backed Louria, its influence could dissuade others from intervening.

For now, there was little to do but prepare—and wait. Hope was a fragile thing, and time was running short.

Far across the western border, within Lourian territory, the first pieces of a grand design were already moving into place. The storm was coming.

 

Qua-Toyne Principality – Western Border – Watchtower 12

The western frontier of the Qua-Toyne Principality stretched across a diverse tapestry of terrain—rolling plains, tangled forests, and jagged mountain passes. These natural barriers had served as an effective defense for generations. The mountains were perilous, home to both treacherous terrain and creatures best left undisturbed. The deep forests had grown wild and sacred, housing Fey beings and arcane spirits untouched by civilization. But it was the plains that demanded the most vigilance; open, flat, and vulnerable, they served as the most probable route for any potential invasion from the neighboring Lourian Kingdom.

To counter this vulnerability, the Principality had constructed a network of watchtowers and mana communication stations throughout the region. These towers were modest structures—functional rather than grand—with small cabins at their base designed to support long-term posting. Each tower was linked via manacomm, a magical device allowing for instantaneous communication across vast distances, critical for early warnings. Watchtower 12 stood on a rise overlooking the wide, empty plains, manned by a lone sentry.

Tyler leaned lazily on the wooden railing of the tower's upper platform, eyes sweeping across the flat horizon. He sighed.

"Another day… and still nothing."

Nine months stationed here, and the view hadn't changed. Just endless fields and the occasional breeze rustling the grass. Still, Tyler knew the silence was deceptive. Tensions with Louria had been rising steadily. Something was coming—he could feel it in his bones. But for now, the border remained quiet.

A buzz from the manacomm crystal behind him broke the monotony.

"Station 12, come in," said a familiar voice—his commanding officer.

Tyler stepped inside, settling into the chair beside the console and pressing the rune-inscribed plate to respond. "This is Station 12. No activity to report."

"Understood. All other posts are clear as well. We'll need you to check in again in three hours."

"Yeah, I know the drill. Been here long enough to memorize it," Tyler replied dryly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to gather some firewood. Still recovering from the last snow—you all dropped the ball on resupply."

"That's on your predecessor, not us," the officer chuckled. "You'll manage."

"Easy for you to say," Tyler muttered, lifting his hand off the comm. Stretching, he descended into the cabin below, yawning. He wandered to a small wooden table in the center of the room, picked up a bruised apple, and bit into it with a disgruntled groan.

"Next time I'm in town, I'm buying meat. Real meat."

Most of his rations were dried or long-lasting goods, but occasionally he could supplement them with small game from the nearby woods. Still, the solitude gnawed at him. The pay was decent, but the boredom was maddening. Only one thing had ever broken the monotony.

He smiled faintly to himself, chewing thoughtfully.

"I wonder if I can pay her a visit tonight…"

Before he could finish the thought, a sharp knock came from the door—just one, firm and deliberate. Tyler froze. No one should be here, not at this hour. He grabbed a dagger from the nearby shelf, approaching the door slowly. Another knock. Steeling himself, he cracked it open—and his eyes widened.

A tall woman stood on the threshold. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with golden irises that gleamed like molten metal. Her skin was a striking deep blue, patterned with glistening scales. A sleeveless white tunic clung loosely to her body, the back open to accommodate two leathery wings folded behind her. A long tail curled around her legs, and two curved horns emerged from a thick cascade of white hair. She looked at him with a faint scowl of annoyance.

"Well? Are you going to let me in or not?" she said, her voice sultry and sharp.

"Alivia… What in the nine hells are you doing here?" Tyler asked, stepping aside and scanning the area beyond her with concern.

"No one followed me," she replied as she brushed past him. "Besides, I was getting tired of that cave. Figured I'd drop by."

"I was planning on coming tonight," Tyler said, shutting the door behind her. "You know how many adventurers are looking for you? You're worth a fortune in bounties."

"That's exactly why I chose this area," she said with a smirk, inspecting the humble interior. "I just didn't expect to find such a handsome human posted here."

"Nor did I expect to run into a dragon... with a lance in her belly," Tyler replied.

Their first meeting had been anything but cordial. He'd stumbled upon her in the forest, gravely wounded by an adventurer's trap. Though she had been ready to incinerate him, Tyler had helped remove the lance and tended to her wounds. Over time, mutual trust—and something more—had developed.

"That fool got lucky," Alivia muttered. "He had traps set all around. If not for those, I would've reduced him to cinders before he even touched me."

She twirled in place, taking a long look around the sparse cabin. "So this is your home, huh? And I thought my cave was rustic."

"It works," Tyler said, biting into his apple again. "So… besides this surprise visit, anything else on your mind?"

"Yes, actually," she said, stepping closer, her expression suddenly serious. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

He raised an eyebrow. "Alright. What is it?"

"I want children."

Tyler nearly choked on his apple.

"What!?"

"I've thought about it a lot," Alivia said casually. "The time we spend together is wonderful—but I want more. And I think you'd make a good father."

Tyler stared at her, mouth open, the half-eaten apple slipping from his hand to the floor.

She wasn't joking.

Before he could respond, far from their cozy little exchange, danger watched from the hilltop beyond.

Two men lay prone on the ridge, peering through spyglasses. Clad in muted armor and face paint, they were scouts from Louria. They had been monitoring this tower for days. The rumors of a dragon nesting in the area were common in the taverns—but seeing her now, with their own eyes, confirmed everything.

"Gods… it's true. He's shacked up with a dragon," one whispered in disgust.

"What kind of fool does that?" the second muttered.

"We need to get this back to command. But this is more than intelligence—it's an opportunity. She's coming here willingly, in her human form. That's the best chance we'll ever have to take her down."

"And how do you propose we do that? It's a dragon."

"We have the black powder from Parpaldia. It'll be difficult, but if we time it right, we can destroy the tower and kill her in one strike."

The second scout hesitated. "That's a suicide plan…"

"Maybe. But if we can bring down a dragon, we'll be heroes. Come on—we need to report back. Let the officers decide."

With that, the two scouts disappeared down the slope, moving quickly and silently.

Back in the tower, Tyler was still trying to find words, while Alivia watched him with amused anticipation. Neither knew that their private rendezvous had just set the wheels of fate spinning.

Soon, everything in the region—Louria, Qua-Toyne, even distant powers—would be dragged into the chaos that was about to unfold.

And the world… would never be the same.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1638, Month 10, Day 12 — 8:29 Hours — Night
Gahara Thearchy, Heavenly Observatory

The stars shimmered across the obsidian dome of night, their silver light unbroken by clouds. The skies above the Gahara Thearchy were pristine tonight—an omen in itself, perhaps—and the stars revealed their full brilliance to the faithful below. For the priests and watchers of the Heavenly Observatory, this was more than beauty; it was sacred purpose. Among the pantheon of the Gaharan gods, Desna reigned as the mistress of the stars, dreams, luck, and those who wandered far from home. Her signs were said to lie among the constellations, cast in fleeting glimpses, scattered stardust, or celestial alignments too subtle for most to notice. It was the solemn duty of the observatory to remain vigilant—eyes to the heavens, ears tuned to the whispers of divinity.

At the center of the temple's high chamber stood a massive telescope, an elegant yet ancient device etched with divine script. Beside it, two figures kept their silent vigil. Seated at the eyepiece was Isaias, a seasoned stargazer with ink-stained fingers and a deep reverence for the divine. Behind him stood Liana, an elven scholar whose hands hovered above a sheet of parchment, prepared to record any celestial phenomena that might bear sacred significance. Though the stars tonight offered only their usual quiet glimmer, they continued their ritual—watching, waiting, interpreting what mortal minds could grasp.

"It's been quiet the past few nights," Isaias said, adjusting the telescope's dial with a soft click. "No portents, no shifts, no lights. I wonder what keeps the goddess so occupied."

"We're not meant to question the gods," Liana replied gently, her voice calm and laced with ancient cadence. "Their work is beyond us. Some nights the sky sleeps. On others… the heavens sing."

A silence settled between them before Isaias spoke again, his tone colored with distant wonder. "I still remember the night the sky came alive with lights—like ribbons dancing in the wind. And another time, I saw a figure… like a moth, drifting across the stars."

Liana's brow furrowed as she thought. "Some of those signs are still being interpreted. I'm no augur, but I know Desna's moths are sacred. They often appear in visions… as messengers."

"Indeed," Isaias murmured. "The moths are favored by her. What that one meant, though… is something only time might reveal."

The two had served together in the observatory for over three years. Under the mentorship of elder seers and diviners, they had learned to read the stars as scripture, and the void as prophecy. Yet even the most seasoned stargazer knew the truth: the gods moved in ways mortals could barely comprehend. It was the work of lifetimes to unravel even the smallest of their messages.

Isaias turned the telescope slightly, adjusting its focus. As the lens aligned with a cluster of stars near the eastern arc, a sudden flash of white light erupted through the eyepiece—so bright and violent it flooded the room in radiant blaze. The searing brilliance stole his vision and knocked him back from his seat.

"By the Nine Hells!" he shouted, stumbling to his feet, one hand clasped over his eye.

The flash was brief, but blinding. As it faded, only the warm flicker of the oil lamps remained, casting long shadows on the observatory's stone walls.

"That light… Did it cover the entire sky?" Liana asked, her voice hushed and shaken.

"I don't know," Isaias answered, blinking rapidly as he winced. "It was… so bright. I can barely see out of my right eye."

Before either could say more, the doors burst open. A second elf, clad in the ceremonial robes of the outer acolytes, rushed inside. Her breath came in short bursts, her eyes wide with alarm as she scanned the chamber.

"You saw it too, didn't you?" she said, voice trembling. "I was on the upper balcony. The sky—it was swallowed whole by that light."

The three stood together in stunned silence, staring through the open oculus of the observatory into the still-glowing heavens. The stars had returned, yes—but something had changed. This was no falling star or rare alignment. It was an intrusion. An event. A proclamation, perhaps, though none of them could yet read its meaning.

For the first time in living memory, the heavens had truly spoken.

And now, only one question echoed in their minds—

What had just happened?

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29. 15:12 Hours. East Sea. Salty Bitch, Nearing the Eastern Islands.

The Salty Bitch had sailed steadily across the East Sea for over an hour, her sails fully unfurled as her crew scanned the endless blue for anything out of the ordinary. Beyond a few known landmasses, this stretch of sea was uncharted. Rumors whispered of vast, habitable islands housing tribes long isolated from the outside world—but those were only stories. Up in the crow's nest, an orc watched through a spyglass, eyes sweeping the horizon. Saltpaw had already ordered the crew to lower their flag and ready alternate colors, just in case. In these waters, where anti-pirate patrols were common, a little anonymity went a long way.

"Captain! Nothing yet—the area's still clear!" the orc bellowed from above.

"Hmph. Figures. Keep your eyes sharp," Saltpaw called back. "Don't get comfortable just 'cause the sea looks quiet. That flying thing wasn't the only threat out here. Sea beasts would love to turn us into chum, and I'd rather not have to patch up the Bitch again."

They'd been lucky so far. Aside from a few scrapes caused by recklessness or fog, they'd kept their sloop in top shape—a feat that demanded endless repairs, endless gold, and even more time.

"Captain, if I may," Nedes asked, "if we do find something—anything useful—like that flying object or whatever else might be out here… are we reporting to Nouka straight away? Or do we tell our contacts first? We can't just leave them in the dark."

"Of course, we tell them first," Saltpaw replied. "Nouka can wait. The moment we find something, our people get word first. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't scouting for fun. Someone out there got a good look at the layout, including our hideout. And if they're smart, they'll know it wasn't just a pile of rocks."

Nedes nodded grimly. "That's true. We've spent years building that place up for folks like us. If the Lourian Kingdom makes its move, it'll all burn. They've already been sending ships through the west and southwest. A lot of pirates have been sunk or chased out altogether. If this keeps up, they'll be breathing down our necks in no time."

"Which is why I've been putting together an exit plan," Saltpaw said, his voice lowering. "At this point, it's not if they invade—it's when. I hate the idea of leaving, but a few of us have been preparing a fallback—far northwest, near the Grameus Continent."

That land, a place of monsters and demons, was largely avoided. But the surrounding islands had caught the attention of several kingdoms. To Saltpaw, it was the perfect place to hide—and keep their business afloat. The only thing holding him back was money.

"I don't understand Louria," Nedes muttered. "Hating non-humans is one thing, but this talk of total extermination, human supremacy? That's madness. Hell, I'm human, and I get along fine with everyone on this ship. Sure, I've had bad run-ins—but I didn't label an entire race as monsters."

"You get the right voice in the right room, and folks will follow you straight into damnation," Saltpaw said. "But their little dream? It's going to make a lot of enemies. And if it comes true, none of the western kingdoms will want them as neighbors."

"If Qua-Toynia falls, this whole region will collapse. Trade routes, commerce—it'll all suffer. And you know damn well Louria won't deal with anyone who harbors non-humans. Their invasion won't just cost lives—it'll cost stability." Nedes shook his head.

"Most of the farmers around here rely on Qua-Toynia's goddess for their harvests. If the bloodshed gets too heavy, she might revoke her blessing," Saltpaw added.

"Which reminds me, sir… might be time to toss a chest overboard. The last thing we need is to travel further without offering something to Besmara," Nedes suggested.

Across the world, gods and goddesses ruled in unseen ways—some benevolent, others cruel, and a rare few who walked the line between both. Besmara, goddess of piracy, sea monsters, and strife, fell into that last category. Offering her a chest full of gold and jewels was customary—a token to earn her favor and reduce the chance of an encounter with something from the deep.

"Get one ready," Saltpaw ordered. "Better to have her smiling on us than rolling the dice out here blind."

"With the way things are, we need all the protection we can get," Nedes agreed. "You heard him. Get a chest ready."

The crew exchanged uneasy glances. They didn't like parting with their treasure, but they understood. Every time they'd made such offerings, they'd sailed through even the deadliest waters unscathed.

"Mmm… what's with all the shouting?" a voice called from below. Alenia stepped out of the captain's quarters, rubbing her eyes and squinting into the light. "Can't a girl get some sleep?"

"Captain just wants to stay on Besmara's good side. Didn't mean to wake you," Nedes said.

"Apologies, love—Nedes has a voice like a damn cannon," Saltpaw added with a chuckle.

"It's fine. I'm up now," Alenia yawned, making her way up the stairs toward the wheel. "How much farther are we?"

"We should be near the islands. From there, it's our landmark for heading east," Saltpaw replied.

"If the shipbreakers are gone, we'll be the first to pass this point in known history," Nedes said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Let's not get cocky," Alenia warned. "Just because we're paying tribute to Besmara doesn't mean we're immune to trouble. That flying object we saw… I've heard whispers that the Holy Milishial Empire has machines like that. Still, I doubt this is connected."

"That empire…" Saltpaw mused. "Heard all sorts of things over the years. Some of it's probably hogwash, but not all."

"They're a continent away. Doubt they care about some backwater stretch like this," Nedes added.

The Holy Milishial Empire existed more in myth than reality. The only known truth was that, after the Ravernal Empire vanished, they rose to power, reverse-engineering arcane technologies no one else could replicate. Yet they were so distant, no one aboard the Salty Bitch had ever seen their land—or their people.

From below deck, several crew members emerged, lugging a chest brimming with gold and gems. As they prepared to offer it, the wind caught in their sails abruptly died, leaving the sloop adrift in eerie stillness.

"That's not a good sign…" Saltpaw narrowed his eyes. "Hold off on the offering. Someone's trying to tell us something."

"Yeah… We shouldn't be here," one crewman muttered.

"Quiet!" Alenia snapped. "All eyes on the horizon."

The crew obeyed without hesitation, scattering to the rails. Spyglasses snapped open. Eyes strained into the distance. The sudden stillness—the total loss of wind—was no accident. In these waters, such silence could only mean one of two things: a warning… or a revelation.

Seconds passed like lifetimes.

At the bow, a sailor lowered his spyglass slowly. His expression tightened.

Then, with a furrowed brow, he lifted it again.

"Captain… I see something," he called, his voice strained. "By the Nine Hells… what is that thing?"

Saltpaw and Alenia descended from the rear deck, boots thudding against the wood as they approached the sailor. Wordlessly, he handed Saltpaw the spyglass. Raising it to his eye, Saltpaw followed the sailor's direction—eastward, just past a narrow tropical island shrouded in mist.

At first, he blinked, unsure of what he was seeing.

Then his breath caught.

"Am I mad… or is that a ship? A ship made entirely of metal?" the sailor murmured.

Floating silently near the island was a long, angular vessel—sleek and grey, glinting in the afternoon sun. Larger than any warship Saltpaw had ever seen, it looked like it had been forged from steel itself, not timber. High atop its towering frame, a flag fluttered in the breeze: deep blue with a white center, ringed in yellow.

Saltpaw adjusted the spyglass and scanned to the right—his gut twisting as a second metallic behemoth came into view. This one was moving, gliding across the sea not by sail or oar, but by some hidden power. No wind pushed it, yet it advanced with unwavering momentum.

"You're not seeing things," Saltpaw muttered grimly. "Alright, Nedes! Start turning that wheel. And love—get us some wind, fast. There's no telling if they're friendly or about to turn us into driftwood."

He lowered the spyglass and looked toward Alenia, whose expression mirrored his own.

"Those ships," he added, "they're bristling with cannons bigger than our masts. I don't want to find out what they can do."

"Shouldn't we at least try to make contact?" Alenia asked, cautiously.

"If it were just one, maybe. But two? And likely more in the area?" Saltpaw shook his head. "We wouldn't stand a chance if they decided we were a threat. No. We leave, report what we've seen, and let Nouka decide what comes next. If anyone's going to handle first contact, it should be the Qua-Toyne Principality—not us."

But fate wasn't going to give them that choice.

Alenia had just begun to move toward the stern when a sudden thump echoed across the waves. A heartbeat later, something massive slammed into the ocean just behind them. A towering column of water erupted skyward, and the resulting wave rocked the sloop violently, knocking several crew members off their feet.

"Bloody hells! What was that?!" Alenia shouted, gripping the railing.

"Captain!" the orc called down from the crow's nest, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Above us! By the gods… what is that?!"

Every head turned upward.

High above the blue sky, far beyond the reach of arrows or cannonballs, hung a shape. Enormous. Silent. It's form cut across the sky like a great iron bird, too distant for details but close enough to stir dread in the hearts of everyone aboard.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

And then, the two metallic ships surged forward, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

It was now clear: there would be no escape.

Whoever these strangers were, they had noticed the Salty Bitch—and they were coming.

Whether for diplomacy or destruction, they would have their say.

 

New World. Second Civilization Area. Mu Continent. Otaheit. Mu Department of Information Analysis. Office of Myrus Leclerc.

To the east of the Rodenius Continent and the Third Civilization Area lay a formidable land—Mu. A continent-sized nation said, in myth, to have arrived on this world over twelve thousand years ago, cast across space and time from an unknown origin. Since then, it has risen to become a regional superpower, blending technology and magic in a way few others could rival.

Yet today, the government was not basking in its strength. Tension gripped its higher circles.

The phenomenon now dubbed the Flash—that momentary brilliance which had turned night into day—had been strange enough. But it had only been the beginning.

Now, a task force—sent westward to investigate an unidentified flying object—had vanished.

"This is the most recent report, sir," said a uniformed officer, handing a file to Myrus Leclerc.

Myrus skimmed it, brow furrowed.

"After the object passed over Mu's airspace and continued west, a task force was deployed to investigate. Their last message reported contact with unknown naval vessels… then, total silence. It seems the situation escalated after a warning shot was fired."

Myrus sighed. "That's what happens when you put a hothead in charge of something that demands finesse. Still… those waters are legally ours, charted and recognized. There shouldn't be anything out there. No landmass. No factions. Nothing."

He tapped his fingers against the map spread across his desk. "And it can't be the Holy Milishial Empire. Or the Gra Valkas."

"The Gra Valkas have been increasingly aggressive of late," the officer admitted. "They've already absorbed multiple smaller kingdoms. But they've honored our peace accord—barely—and have shown more interest in Leifor than anything to our east."

Myrus nodded. A few years back, when the Gra Valkas had first appeared, there had been calls to drive them out before they gained a foothold. Yet pragmatism and diplomacy had prevailed. A tense but tolerable peace had allowed for some trade and observation.

Still… they couldn't be ruled out, not without proof.

"Any visual identifiers?" Myrus asked.

"Yes, sir. The last report mentioned a flag—blue field, white emblem with yellow outlining, and stars."

"Unfamiliar. And the ships?"

"Highly advanced. No magic signatures—purely technological. Far beyond even the first-generation steel fleet we pioneered. Additionally, the final transmission included the words: Hostiles in the sky. They had a carrier with them, sir. But it, and any aircraft it launched, were lost."

Myrus stood in silence, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at the growing uncertainty.

"Damn it all... That kind of overwhelming force, from a group we've never even heard of? And in a dead zone of open water?" he muttered. "No... The Parpaldia Empire couldn't have developed anything like that. Not even the Gra Valkas would waste those assets without provocation."

"Agreed, sir. But this new faction—whatever they are—they responded to a mere warning shot with total annihilation. That's not just aggression. That's a message."

Myrus nodded gravely. "Request a meeting with the Gra Valkas ambassador. Quietly. No press. No leaks. We need to know what they know—if anything."

He returned to his desk and pressed a thumb to a secure console.

"And keep this entire affair classified. If word of our losses leaks before the Eleven Country Leadership Conference, we'll lose political leverage—and possibly face diplomatic disaster."

The officer nodded. "Yes, sir. Shall I cancel any public inquiries?"

"Do whatever you must," Myrus replied. "Our place among the superpowers demands strength… not excuses."

There was silence between them for a moment, one laden with the weight of uncertainty.

The New World's politics were simple at their core: trade, strength, and deterrence. Those who hesitated died. Those who lacked vision were replaced. And those who appeared weak… were swallowed whole.

The silence was broken only by Myrus's final words:

"Whoever these newcomers are… they have made their entrance."

And as Mu quietly prepared for the coming storm, far across the world, in the marbled halls of the Holy Milishial Empire, another meeting—equally secret—was already underway.

 

New World. First Civilization Area. Central World. Runepolis. Office of His Majesty Milishial VIII.

On the continent known as the Central World, a civilization forged almost entirely through magic stood as a beacon of impossible progress. The Holy Milishial Empire, the most advanced and revered power on the planet, had turned sorcery into infrastructure. Towering spires reached into the clouds, monorail systems stitched together cityscapes, and roads shimmered with vehicles powered by enchantment rather than fuel. In the New World, no kingdom, no empire, not even the Gra Valkas or Mu could truly rival what Milishial had become.

And yet, even within this magical empire of splendor, fear now crept behind the gilded doors of its highest office.

The air was quiet within the marble-walled study of Milishial VIII. Seated behind a carved obsidian desk, the emperor of the Holy Milishial Empire sipped his tea, its surface trembling slightly as he stared over its rim. Across from him sat Arneus Freeman, Director of the Imperial Intelligence Bureau, file in hand and brow tight with concern.

"My lord," Arneus began, "this is the most comprehensive report we've compiled—both from our sources and those relayed by the Emor Kingdom. Regarding the phenomenon now being called the Flash... we can confirm that it was a concentration of magical energy unlike anything in recorded history. But based on what we've seen, it's unlikely this has any connection to the Ravernal Empire."

Milishial's expression remained unreadable, but his voice carried a weight beyond the gilded trim of his office.

"And how can we be certain of that?" he asked, setting the cup aside. "I felt it. Half the empire did. And days later, our detection grids were still fried. Even the sensors buried beneath the Silver Spire were rendered useless."

"The prophecy surrounding their return is clear, sire: When the day turns to night, the world shall burn anew. But since the Flash, no visions have confirmed their coming—no fires across the sky, no storm of steel. The Emor Kingdom, whose Seers have long foreseen disaster, has remained largely silent. If it were the Ravernal Empire... we'd already be at war."

Milishial nodded, folding his hands.

"That's true. They wouldn't hide in the shadows—they would announce their presence with blood and fire. And frankly, none of us are prepared to face them again."

Arneus opened the report further, tapping a marked section.

"Still, there is something else. The Seers of Emor did report a vision, fragmented and incomplete, weeks before the Flash. They saw a flag, unfamiliar... and a world engulfed in flame."

Milishial leaned forward. "Describe it."

"The flag was blue, similar to our own, but bore a white emblem of an unfamiliar world. Yellow ribbons encircled the bottom. Above it, seven white stars."

Milishial's brows furrowed. He stood, moving to a map of the world etched across the wall. His fingers hovered over the great oceans that separated the continents.

"I want covert scouts deployed to every civilization area. No uniforms, no insignia. Traders, mercenaries, scribes—anyone who can blend in. I want information, rumors, sightings. If someone comes from beyond our understanding… I will not be caught unaware."

"They will be dispatched immediately, Your Majesty," Arneus said, bowing.

Milishial's eyes narrowed, voice low and cold.

"Visions from Emor are not given lightly. If they saw a world burning, and a flag above it… Then whoever it belongs to is either our salvation… or our extinction."

Arneus remained silent, knowing well the weight of those words.

And though the Ravernal Empire had not returned, something else had emerged—something equally dangerous, and far less predictable. A force from beyond the known world, cloaked not in myth… but in steel, fire, and silence.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

June 13, 2184 – Mega City Tactix Prime, Colonial Overseer's Office
Two Months After the Flash

Two months had passed since the phenomenon that would later be referred to simply as the Flash—a sudden burst of searing white light that enveloped the colony's skies and, in the blink of an eye, erased everything familiar. When the light faded, they were no longer beneath the stars of Super Earth. The sky above bore alien constellations, three unfamiliar moons, and a planetary system uncharted by any known survey. The colony, home to seven hundred million souls, had been displaced wholesale, and no one—least of all the Ministry of Science—could provide a definitive explanation.

Teleportation was not foreign to Super Earth. The Illuminate had made liberal use of such technology in warfare. But this scale—this magnitude—was unprecedented. Entire continents of people and infrastructure ripped from their origin world and placed into the unknown. Efforts to contact Super Earth high command had all failed. The relay networks were silent, and even SES and SEC vessels within the new system found themselves alone, unable to establish a link to the broader galactic net. The stars here were not on any map. The system itself was a ghost on the charts—absent from every stellar record in Super Earth's vast databanks.

What they did find, however, disturbed the Ministry even more. Several orbital satellites, clearly artificial in origin and thousands of years old, were still operational. Their design bore no resemblance to known Earth-standard technologies. Reconnaissance missions revealed they were following decayed but stable orbital paths, broadcasting dead signals. From low orbit, they had also detected city lights scattered across the dark continents below. Someone—or something—had built those satellites, and yet from all available data, the current inhabitants of this world lacked the means to leave their atmosphere.

There were further reports: encounters with large, unclassified aquatic lifeforms—creatures of scale and hostility. Though SEN naval elements had neutralized the immediate threats, the reconnaissance aircraft continued to observe anomalies across the seas. It was a dangerous and uncharted world. Within the reinforced silence of his office, Colonial Overseer Jenik reviewed the latest intelligence on a datapad, while across from him sat Minister Alon, head of the colony's Ministry of Defense.

"The East has my attention," Jenik said, breaking the silence. He laid the pad flat on his desk. "According to the reconnaissance data, several nations exist there, but their technology appears medieval. Crude. Like something out of the old Terran fables."

Alon nodded, arms folded behind his back. "And yet, someone placed those satellites in orbit. Their engineering is far too advanced for any nation we've observed down there. Radiation shielding, orbital stabilization, continued uptime… It all suggests a civilization capable of reaching space centuries ago. But that knowledge seems to have been lost—or hidden."

Jenik's brow furrowed. "What else have we found?"

"Our scouts engaged a flotilla from an unidentified eastern faction," Alon reported. "The ships fired on our patrols without provocation. In response, under standing defense protocols, the fleet was eliminated. A Super Destroyer in low orbit assisted in the operation. The enemy was wiped out entirely. Based on post-engagement reconnaissance, they appear to have originated from a large eastern landmass. It showed signs of complex civilization, but their overall level remains... pre-industrial."

Jenik leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting toward the ceiling. "This entire world defies logic. And yet, here we are. That brings me to the next point—one I've been dreading since our arrival. First contact."

He tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. "We cannot pursue diplomacy with the eastern nations now—not after the destruction of their fleet."

Alon raised a hand in caution. "The offensive may have been a misinterpretation on both sides. We couldn't risk hesitation with lives on the line. But I've since ordered all SEN vessels to withdraw from the eastern perimeter and established a defensive grid along our own coastlines. Colonial Militias, SEAF, SEN, and SES have been placed on high alert. We're watching every horizon."

"Good," Jenik replied. "If the East is no longer viable for diplomatic overtures, then we turn to the West. The people there appear equally primitive, but perhaps less aggressive. We may be able to open a channel—extend a hand."

"A hand with a hidden Peacemaker," Alon added.

Jenik nodded solemnly. "Indeed. We must tread carefully. We lack the resources for a full-scale conflict, and even if we had them, war with an entire planet is unsustainable. Besides, these people have numbers. Potential. Unknowns. For all we know, one of their kind is responsible for bringing us here."

The possibility hung in the air like a sword suspended by a single thread.

"I'll contact the Ministry of Truth," Alon offered. "Their diplomatic agents are trained for cultural infiltration. If we're to engage in negotiations, they'll be indispensable."

"Do it. We must establish channels with the Ministry of Prosperity and the Ministry of Expansion as well. We'll need trade routes, resource acquisition, territorial surveys. Every vector of expansion must be considered—but without drawing blood, unless forced."

Jenik stood and walked toward the wide glass wall behind his desk, staring out over the towers of Tactix Prime. "Managed Democracy cannot be abandoned just because we are alone. We carry the torch of Super Earth—even if the flame has dimmed."

"I agree," said Alon. "But we must move with caution. The people are scared. We've all lived through the Illuminate War, the collapse of the frontier, the Black Hole disaster in Meridia. If we push too fast—if we expose them to outsiders now—it might unravel the cohesion we've struggled to preserve."

Jenik placed his hands behind his back. "That's why I won't attend the first contact personally. Not yet. We'll send an agent—one we trust. If the outcome is favorable, we escalate."

Alon rose. "Understood. I'll begin preparations immediately. SES scouts have already mapped key zones of interest and should be ready for asteroid capture operations soon. If we're to build orbital platforms, that's our first step—raw material from space."

"Assign Super Destroyers to escort the SES ships," Jenik instructed. "We'll use hollowed asteroids for staging platforms—refueling, repair, ammunition stockpiles. I want them operational before the quarter's end."

Alon gave a sharp nod. "I'll handle the logistics from my end and update you the moment we receive any signals—foreign or otherwise."

"Very good. This is going to be a long day."

As Alon exited the room, the heavy door sealed behind him with a pneumatic sigh. Alone, Jenik remained at the window, eyes tracing the sprawl of the city below.

The past few months had been chaos distilled. Super Earth's collapse under the Illuminate's final assault, the Meridia black hole event devouring entire systems, and the sudden, inexplicable relocation of the colony—every catastrophe compounded into one grim truth: they were alone now. Alone, yet not without purpose.

And whatever world they now stood upon… it would soon learn the meaning of Managed Democracy.

 

New World – Surface: Eastern Sea
SEN Frigate King of Equality, Approaching the East Sea Islands

For the past several days, the colony had deployed SEN vessels across the vast oceans of this new world. Back on the original planet, there had only been one massive ocean, complemented by countless rivers and lakes—but here, things were different. The aquatic landscape was broader, more volatile, and far less understood. Though the SEN—the Super Earth Navy—was a relatively modest branch of the SEAF's armored divisions, the need for a dedicated naval force remained evident. Super Earth and its colonies still depended on maritime power, and now, in the face of the unknown, that force had been tasked with charting, surveying, and surviving the oceans of this alien world.

Already, their mission had been marred by contact with hostile marine fauna—creatures never catalogued, many never surviving long enough to be studied. Several of these aquatic monstrosities had inflicted significant damage before being destroyed, raising questions about what else might dwell in the deep.

Captain Casimir stood on the bridge of the King of Equality, his eyes scanning the horizon. His current orders were straightforward: survey the scattered islands ahead to assess their viability as forward operating bases or supply outposts. It was a pragmatic task, and one far removed from what he had expected when he accepted this commission.

"Sir, the SES Song of War has completed its sweep of the eastern flank," an officer reported. "No signs of intelligent life, and no new sightings of the larger sea beasts we've encountered previously."

Casimir nodded, his expression unreadable. "Good. We've still got more ground—or rather, water—to cover before we move on. Strange… when I took this post, I never imagined I'd be exploring uncharted seas on a planet light-years from home. A new world, with new rules."

"Truth be told, I never heard of a colony dealing with anything like this," another officer remarked. "Back home, the oceans are mostly calm—tamed. Here, we've got titanic predators that shrug off autocannon fire. Half our fleet's already in drydock for patch jobs."

"And those repairs cost us," a third officer added. "Every damaged ship is one less to patrol these waters. We're stretched thin."

Casimir sighed. "We make do. We don't have SES numbers or their firepower. Just staying out here is a gamble. One lucky strike, and any one of us could be on the ocean floor."

"With luck, the microsatellite network will come online soon. Once that's running, we'll have early warning, better tracking, and faster comms." The hopeful tone did little to mask the tension behind the words.

"Everyone's got their own problems to handle," Casimir said, more quietly. "The SES are fighting their war. We fight ours. And if we don't want to lose this world, we keep working with what we have—calm minds, steady hands."

When the silence fell again on the bridge, it wasn't out of apathy. It was the stillness of resolve. With Super Earth silent and the colony severed from its supply chains, survival had become a matter of resourcefulness. Their priorities were simple: secure food, conserve ammunition, and repurpose whatever could be scavenged. They had received a single report of a possible civilization to the far east, but command had yet to authorize any attempt at contact. Until then, exploration remained cautious and deliberate.

"Sir…" the comms officer spoke up. "Incoming report from the SES Diamond of Truth. They've sighted a small sail-driven vessel approaching the island chain. Unknown design."

Casimir stepped forward. "Distance?"

"Not far, sir. They're within visual range. It should be visible through the bridge windows any moment now. Orders?"

Casimir didn't hesitate. "Signal a warning shot. Have the Diamond fire a 120mm shell near them—close enough to show them we're watching, but not a hit. We approach, then assess. If they're peaceful, we talk. If not… we sink them."

The officer gave a sharp nod. Moments later, the sea erupted in a towering column of water just off the bow of the mysterious vessel. The concussive force sent waves rocking beneath both crafts. Message sent.

The King of Equality and its sister frigate began closing in. Through the reinforced glass, Casimir lifted a pair of binoculars and peered out across the choppy sea. The vessel was crude, though seaworthy, far removed from the designs used by Super Earth. On its deck stood two figures. One, unmistakably non-human, bore the hunched posture and mottled fur of a humanoid hyena. The other was tall, sleek, and unmistakably female, her elongated ears and obsidian-dark skin casting her in sharp contrast.

Casimir lowered the binoculars, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Well, now… that's something new. Bring us alongside. I want two SEAF troopers with me. No sudden moves unless they give us reason."

He didn't need to say the rest. They were strangers on an alien world, facing unfamiliar threats with limited strength. Every encounter carried risk. But if these outsiders were willing to talk, perhaps they'd finally gain something even more precious than firepower—information.

 

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29 – 15:32 Hours
East Sea – Salty Bitch, Near the Eastern Islands

The air above the Salty Bitch hung heavy with tension, the wind sluggish against the sails as Saltpaw stood motionless on the deck, eyes narrowed toward the horizon. Two immense metal vessels—warships by any measure—were drawing steadily closer, their message clear from the moment they appeared: Attempt to flee and you will be destroyed.

Overhead, a vast silhouette eclipsed the sun. It floated impossibly, a behemoth of steel and smoke that defied all reason. Saltpaw glanced upward again, unease gnawing at his instincts. The sight of that massive airborne construct shook something deep within him. Not fear exactly, but a premonition.

Beside him, Alenia stood equally transfixed, her gaze locked on the leviathan above. For someone who had walked the earth for centuries and seen things most would dismiss as legend, this was entirely new—and deeply unsettling.

The crew milled about restlessly. Many had heard the old sailor tales—stories of metal ships from across the sea or fallen stars that bore travelers from the heavens. But now, faced with that myth made real, there was only silence and awe.

"Captain, sir… orders?" one of the crewmen finally asked, his voice hushed.

"We wait," Saltpaw replied, keeping his voice steady. "Pray to the gods that they come in peace. Because running's not an option."

"Aye, sir…"

"I can't even begin to guess how that thing's flying," Alenia muttered. "It's easily the size of those ships—possibly larger—but there's no wind, no wings, no sails…"

"We'll ponder that later, love," Saltpaw replied. "Right now, we focus. Hope they want to talk. Hope they don't want to burn us to the depths."

As if in answer, a distant thump echoed across the waves. A warning shot. Not close enough to do damage, but near enough to silence any lingering thoughts of escape.

"They do want to talk," Alenia said quietly, with more hope than certainty.

The two metal ships split formation—one hanging back, the other drawing close enough to throw a shadow across the Salty Bitch. It was bristling with strange weaponry: cannons mounted on swiveling turrets, reinforced hull plating, mechanical devices whose purpose none could guess. The ships had no sails, no oars, no visible means of propulsion—and yet, they moved with grace and certainty.

"They're armed to the teeth," a crewman muttered.

"These are warships… but their design makes no sense," added Nedes, shaking his head. "How do they move?"

Soon, figures appeared along the deck of the approaching vessel. Men in matching blue uniforms and segmented armor stood in neat formation, each armed with long-barreled weapons. It was not long before a gangway was lowered between the two ships, and three individuals began crossing to the Salty Bitch.

Saltpaw scanned them carefully. The front man walked with purpose, flanked by escorts, his bearing unmistakably military. He came to a halt before Saltpaw and Alenia, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crew.

"Hmm… Quite an unusual species," the man said with cool interest.

"Name's Saltpaw," the gnoll replied cautiously.

The officer blinked in surprise. "You speak the Super Earth language?"

Saltpaw raised a brow. "Super what? I speak the common tongue, same as anyone else. And what's a Super Earth?"

"I suspected as much…" the man murmured. "But to hear our language spoken so fluently… Fascinating. To answer your question: Super Earth is our home. A world—no, a civilization—unlike anything you've likely encountered."

"You're saying… you're not from this world?" Alenia asked, folding her arms.

"No," the officer replied calmly. "We were transported here by unknown means. Our entire colony—seven hundred million people—was relocated to this planet. We're still investigating how. That ship above? It's a Super Earth Navy Super Destroyer. Fortunately, several made the transition with us, which has allowed us to secure the region and begin exploratory operations."

Shock rippled through the crew. Myths of otherworldly arrivals had long persisted in sailors' tales, but never had anyone witnessed such things with their own eyes. And if this officer spoke the truth, then the implications were staggering—especially the part about multiple ships in the sky.

"What do you want from us?" Saltpaw asked, steadying his voice.

"At the moment, only information," the man replied. "We had not anticipated encountering sentient lifeforms—let alone humans—so soon. You are human, correct?" he asked, glancing at Nedes.

"As human as I was born," Nedes replied. "Saltpaw's a gnoll. Alenia's drow—an elf."

"I see." The officer's gaze sharpened. "Are there nations nearby? Settlements, cities, ports? We've taken damage already, and we need to know who—and what—is around us."

"You've taken damage? Your ships look pristine," Nedes said, puzzled.

"Some of our vessels were attacked by sea monsters—massive creatures," the man said curtly. "They were neutralized, but not without consequence. Those ships are currently in dry dock. Now answer the question."

Saltpaw nodded. "To the west lie three nations we've dealt with. The Qua-Toyne Principality—agricultural and peaceful. The Quila Kingdom. And the Louria Kingdom."

The name of the last brought a scowl to his face, and he spat on the deck.

"Louria, I take it, is less friendly?" the officer said, amused.

"They're human supremacists," Alenia interjected. "They've purged all non-humans from their lands. Even peaceful ones. We've seen the signs. Now it looks like they're preparing for war against the other two."

"They've already absorbed smaller kingdoms," Nedes added grimly.

The officer nodded, absorbing the intelligence. In another context—armed with the full force of Super Earth's military—neutralizing a kingdom like Louria would be a trivial matter. But they were not at full strength. And the strategic situation here was unknown.

"Would Qua-Toyne be open to dialogue?" he asked at last. "We suspect they'd be more tolerant than Louria."

"They've humans living alongside elves, beastfolk—even mixed marriages," Saltpaw said. "I can contact someone within the principality who would be open to talks."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "And how would you do that? Your ship doesn't appear to have radio capability. We'd need coordinates as well."

"I don't know what a radio is," Saltpaw said, "but I have long-range communication equipment in my cabin. If you trust me, I can show you."

The officer hesitated. One of his escorts shot him a wary glance, clearly unsettled by the situation. After a tense pause, he turned back to Saltpaw.

"They know they're outmatched," he muttered. Then, louder: "Lead the way. But know this—if you try anything, you'll be the first overboard. And your ship will follow."

"No tricks," Saltpaw replied calmly, raising a hand in a placating gesture. "I understand the balance of power. We're just trying to survive the day. I didn't catch your name."

"Casimir," the officer said. "Now—show me."

Accepting the inevitability of the moment, Saltpaw gave a nod and motioned for them to follow. He led them toward the cabin. Alenia slipped in behind him, and Casimir followed. The SEAF soldiers took positions on either side of the door, their stances rigid and alert.

Casimir stepped into the room and cast a critical eye across the space, eventually approaching a large table where a regional map was spread out. His gaze fixed westward, absorbing the terrain.

"Hmm… quite a lot out there," he murmured.

"To the left is our manacom," Alenia interjected, gesturing toward a separate table. "It's powered by enchanted crystals—it lets us broadcast across long distances."

Casimir walked over and examined the setup. It resembled a primitive radio station, complete with an old-style radio and microphone. He watched Saltpaw adjust the knobs with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

"This looks like a radio," Casimir muttered. "But you said it's powered by magical crystals? Magic is a myth. How does this even work?"

Alenia met his skepticism with a dry smile. "Magic may be myth where you're from, but here it's very real." She snapped her fingers, and a thin ribbon of flame ignited along her palm. "And extremely useful."

Casimir's expression barely changed, but his eyes lingered on the flames for a beat too long. "I see… I'll have to notify the Ministry of Science about this," he said under his breath.

Before Saltpaw could activate the transmitter, he paused and looked over his shoulder. "One question before we connect: that massive flying machine that swept over our territory earlier—was that yours?"

Casimir nodded slowly. "Recon craft. Ours. We've been stationed in a secure zone for the past two months. Once we confirmed no local threats, we began expanding our patrols."

Saltpaw gave a dry chuckle. "Well, you certainly gave a lot of people something to scream about."

After a few final adjustments, Saltpaw pressed the transmitter's button and leaned into the microphone.

"This is the Salty Bitch—do you read, Maihark manacom station?"

A crisp female voice replied through the crackling speaker. "This is Maihark. We read you, Salty Bitch. What's the nature of your call?"

Saltpaw grinned slightly at the call sign's casual absurdity. "We just made contact with the people responsible for the flying fortress that lit up our skies. Thought you might want to inform the higher-ups—they'd probably like to talk."

There was a pause on the other end. "Understood. Can they speak directly, or should we relay the message?"

Saltpaw glanced at Casimir, who stepped forward.

"Tell them contact will be made—one day from now," Casimir said. "They won't miss it."

Saltpaw relayed the message, voice steady. "They say they'll reach out within a day. And trust me… you'll know when they do."

"Message received," the operator replied. "We'll begin preparations."

Releasing the transmit button, Saltpaw exhaled and turned to Casimir. There was no triumph in the man's posture—only a wary calculation.

"So… what happens now?"

"Now?" Casimir said, folding his arms. "You and your crew are coming with us. The Overseer will want a word."

There was no threat in his tone, only cold certainty.

 

Rodenius Continent – Qua-Toyne Principality – Capital – Office of Prime Minister Kanata

Prime Minister Kanata sat hunched over a thick stack of intelligence reports, each page painting a more troubling picture than the last. The Lourian Kingdom had been escalating its presence along the border—scouts spotted near watchtowers, shadowy movements just beyond their outposts. Thus far, they had refrained from open aggression, but it was clear that the kingdom was probing, watching, waiting.

"They're getting bolder," Kanata muttered, his voice edged with fatigue. "This is going to boil over into a full-scale war."

Standing nearby, Foreign Minister Rinsui nodded grimly. "I've tried to establish one last line of communication, some diplomatic overture to buy time—but no response. At this point, I fear we're out of time. If war breaks out, neither side will emerge unscathed."

Kanata set the papers down, his fingers interlaced tightly on the desk. "We've run the numbers. If we're lucky—lucky, we lose thirty percent of our population. That's the optimistic scenario. Territory lost, farmland burned, whole villages destroyed… And even if we win, whatever that means, we're still looking at decades of recovery—if we survive at all."

"I'll continue pushing for a delay, even if it's a fool's errand," Rinsui said. "If we can stall until winter, they won't risk launching an invasion. No one is mad enough to start a campaign in those conditions."

Kanata's eyes darkened. "Then let's pray they wait. If they strike just before the freeze sets in, we'll be forced to meet them on the field regardless."

Rinsui hesitated before speaking again. "There's something else—something vile. I wouldn't mention it if it weren't critical for morale. Our scouts intercepted disturbing intelligence: Louria's slave markets are preparing for the invasion. They see it as a harvest."

Kanata's hands clenched into fists. "I've heard the stories—refugees speaking of what happens to captured non-humans. Death would be merciful compared to what awaits them. There are worse hells than war, and the Lourians seem eager to prove that."

"And it's not just slavery," Rinsui added, his voice low. "Some alchemists pay handsomely for exotic bodies. They treat living beings like raw materials—skins, organs, bones, even blood. To them, people are just resources to be harvested."

The weight of the moment settled over the office like a suffocating fog. Kanata slowly exhaled. "Then we must prepare contingencies. I want evacuation plans drawn up for our civilians—anyone not essential to defense must be moved behind the front lines or abroad. The fewer bodies in the path of war, the more freely we can maneuver."

"But evacuations make them targets," Rinsui warned. "Louria has a sizable fleet, and pirates haunt the sea lanes. We could be handing them easy prey."

"It's a risk," Kanata said, "but a necessary one. If we wait too long, they'll be trapped when the invasion begins."

Rinsui nodded reluctantly. "Then I'll begin coordinating with our allies. Speaking of which… There is one possibility I hesitate to bring up. A rumor. But in desperate times…"

Kanata looked up. "Go on."

"There are whispers from the Topa Kingdom about a Demon Lord on the Grameus Continent. According to their ambassador, this Demon Kingdom is surprisingly civilized. They've established trade relations with Topa. If the rumors are true, they might be willing to help."

The Prime Minister's brow furrowed. "A demon lord? That's not a name we invoke lightly."

"No, sir. But if they truly are open to diplomacy, we may have little choice. We need allies—any allies—if it means survival."

Kanata remained silent, deep in thought. Demons were not known for generosity or mercy, but desperation had a way of bending even the most rigid beliefs. If a demon lord could offer support—or even a delay—it might shift the balance.

Before he could respond, a knock interrupted the heavy air of the room. The door creaked open, and an elven aide stepped inside, her expression tense.

"Forgive the intrusion, sirs. I just received a message from The Salty Bitch. Nouka confirmed its authenticity—apparently, they've made contact with the ones responsible for the flying metal craft."

Kanata straightened. "The ones who sent the machine?"

"Yes, Prime Minister. According to the message, they'll be arriving within the day."

Kanata exchanged a look with Rinsui, the faintest spark of hope flickering behind his tired eyes. "Then we prepare. If this is real… perhaps our prayers have finally been answered."

Outside the window, the capital moved on unaware, the people oblivious to the storm mounting on their borders. But within the walls of the Prime Minister's office, it was clear that the coming days would test their nation to its core.

Chaos was coming.

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29 – 17:29 Hours
East Sea – Salty Bitch, Saltpaw's Private Quarters

The sun marched across the sky as the two SES frigates cut northeast against the wind, towing the Salty Bitch by heavy ropes. None aboard had ever witnessed such a spectacle before—colossal vessels of metal that dwarfed every ship they had ever known. They moved without sails, without wind, without even the aid of magic. Most ships in these waters relied on enchanted crystals that conjured gales but devoured fuel at ruinous cost. The Altaras Kingdom's rich gem mines made it a power of no small importance in these seas, but even its wealth paled beside what these newcomers had revealed. If they truly hailed from another world, then the balance of everything in this region stood on the brink of upheaval.

Saltpaw bent over his desk, tracing a line on a map, trying to place their position as best he could. "By the course they're dragging us on, we're in uncharted waters. We'll have to chart what we can… But gods, I can't fathom how those ships even move. A hull of steel, guns larger than a longhouse, no sails in sight… How could any nation create such things?"

"You know me, love," Alenia said, her tone low and thoughtful. "I've lived long enough to see marvels most only whisper of, but this… this is new even to me. That flying fortress in the sky frightens me, yet I cannot help but feel a spark of excitement. It has been ages since anything stirred that in me."

Saltpaw exhaled sharply. "Excitement isn't what I feel. Fear—fear for what this means for us all. They didn't sink us when they had the chance, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't do the same to anyone else. I can name a dozen hotheads who'd see this as a challenge. That will spell ruin for everyone."

Alenia folded her arms. "The Parpaldia Empire may be arrogant bastards, but even they know better than to bait a dragon."

"Thank the gods for that," Saltpaw replied. "Parpaldia has its claws deep in this region's trade. If they collapse, the whole economy goes with them—and then we move out. But it's the pirates I fear more. Those swaggering fools will believe they can seize these steel leviathans for themselves."

"Then perhaps they'll rid us of the worst of their ilk," Alenia said dryly. "Lawless, honorless men, they've plagued these seas for too long. And what of Louria?"

"We wait," Saltpaw said grimly. "When we face their rulers, I'll lay out everything we've seen. If these newcomers are truly from another world, then this might be our one chance to prevent disaster. Louria's hunger for land and their hatred of non-humans will drag Rodenius into ruin. If they seize the Qua-Toyne farmlands, famine follows—and worse, they'll gain the strength to spread outward."

Alenia leaned against the wall, thoughtful. "And when we finish our charts? Who do we even sell them to? So far, we've mapped only open sea."

"That can wait," Saltpaw said. "The real question is whether these strangers will even let us go. Right now, we're at their mercy. If they decide they've no further use for us, we'll be sunk before we can blink."

"I know," Alenia admitted softly. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. The best we can do is keep our heads down and make ourselves useful. They know where Rodenius lies, but they don't know its people or politics. That ignorance keeps us alive—for now."

"And with that monster in the sky, they've likely already mapped every coastline in the region," Saltpaw muttered.

"Perhaps," Alenia said, "but not what dwells on them. That knowledge, at least, is ours to trade. Still… perhaps we should prepare to leave these waters altogether. The world is vast, and there are places few have ever seen."

Before Saltpaw could reply, a sharp knock rattled the cabin door. One of his officers stepped in, his expression pale.

"Captain, forgive the intrusion, but… you'd best come see this. I've no words for it."

Saltpaw rose at once. Exchanging a look with Alenia, he followed the man onto the deck. There, beyond the steel hull towing them, stretched a sight that stole the breath from every sailor present. Rising on the horizon were row upon row of towering structures, vast beyond comprehension, spreading from one edge of the sea to the other.

"By Besmara's name…" Alenia whispered. "Is that… a city?"

Saltpaw's voice was hoarse. "Love… I think it is."

Nedes, the officer, pointed toward the skyline. "Look there, above it. Flying craft—faster than anything I've ever seen. And those shapes above the city—gods, the size of them."

High above, titanic airships or perhaps machines hovered, lowering cables to hoist massive containers skyward before gliding back across the sprawl. On the docks below, cranes larger than fortresses lifted cargo with effortless precision. Metal vessels of staggering scale floated in harbor, dwarfing the frigates by an order of magnitude.

"Are we certain these are even humans?" Saltpaw asked.

"They appear human," Alenia said slowly, "but what I see defies sense. To build such wonders… what kind of people could do this?"

"Captain," Nedes said, pointing toward the harbor, "we're being brought in. Look to starboard—the size of that ship. How does such a thing even stay afloat?"

A murmur rippled through the crew. "Could they be Ravernal?" one man asked.

"Doubtful," another muttered. "Perhaps they found these ruins and claimed them."

Speculation died as the towing vessel slowed, easing the Salty Bitch toward a cavernous dockyard. Saltpaw leaned over the railing, taking in the scene below. Men and women moved in ordered precision along the piers, machines rattling and humming past them, while metal craft streaked through the skies above. The skyline loomed like a wall of steel and glass, and still the sailors could only watch in silence.

The ropes tightened, the frigates halted, and the Salty Bitch rocked gently to a stop. On every face was the same expression—awe, fear, and the gnawing question of what fate awaited them in this impossible city.

And far to the east, another power was already preparing its own moves after the ruin of Mu's fleet.

 

Deimoska Continent – Ragna Gra Valkas Empire
Capital City, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

As the day wore on in the heart of the Gra Valkas capital, a tense meeting unfolded within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The disappearance of Mu's fleet had not gone unnoticed. Now, grainy footage from one of their submarines, which had surfaced near a graveyard of burning wrecks, revealed the scale of the disaster. Something catastrophic had struck to the west, and the unanswered question lingered: who had done it—and how had they vanished without trace?

Inside a dimly lit chamber, Dallas Claymond, Cielia Oudwin, and Gesta sat before a white screen as reels of film spun and clattered. On the projection, ruined ships burned in silence, flames licking the sea as powder magazines ignited and detonated within shattered hulls. Mu's fleet was no match for Valkasian warships, but the speed and efficiency of this destruction unsettled them. When the film ended in a flicker of light, silence hung heavy over the table.

"From the crew's report," Cielia began, her tone measured, "they witnessed the explosions while recharging batteries. They dove and approached the site. What you've seen here is all they could record."

"A crippling loss, delivered in moments…" Gesta muttered, steepling his fingers. "Is there anything further?"

"Nothing at present. I am arranging a meeting with Mu. They remain quiet, but the question stands—who could strike so decisively and vanish?" Dallas said.

"The Holy Milishial Empire, perhaps?" Cielia offered. "They have crossed swords with Mu before. Yet what would they gain, save provoking a larger conflict?"

"Perhaps a weapons trial gone awry," Gesta suggested. "Or… perhaps the force behind that massive flying craft."

Dallas leaned back, grimacing. "That thing… With everything else, I nearly forgot. I was asleep during the incident, and I still struggle to believe anything breached our airspace so cleanly."

"You are not alone," Cielia said. "Our aces pushed their Antares Kais to the limits, but it climbed beyond the clouds, leaving them stalling helplessly."

"Not their failing," Gesta countered. "Even our batteries could not touch it. It refrained from attack, which suggests reconnaissance. Someone is surveying this world… someone with capabilities akin to our own, perhaps beyond."

Dallas's gaze darkened. "And that flash of light that night… Mu described the same when they arrived here. We know it well."

For the Gra Valkas were not native to this world. They hailed from Yggdra, torn across dimensions with a portion of their empire, their fleet, and—by fortune—their oil platforms and drillships. It was enough to sustain them, though much of their armada lay mothballed to conserve parts and lubricants. Logistical limits curbed both army and air force alike, though they still possessed a formidable stockpile by local standards.

"If these newcomers destroyed Mu's fleet," Dallas said gravely, "we would do well to avoid them."

"Perhaps," Cielia replied, "yet we should also attempt contact. We do not know who struck first, nor why."

"Or if they strike again," Gesta added. "Mu may have provoked them, or perhaps these others are simply that aggressive. We know too well the pattern of hostile encounters."

"And yet our campaign against pirates earned us more fear than gratitude," Cielia observed. "The other nations whisper of madness, though their waters are safer for it."

"It proved our strength," Dallas said sharply. "And fear was precisely the point. I made that clear to the Emperor and the General Staff."

"Of course they relished it," Gesta said with a sardonic smile. "Testing new weapons, flexing before the world, reminding all we are not weak."

"And now the Holy Milishial Empire threatens sanctions," Dallas replied. "They would cut us off from trade entirely."

"They wield the power to do so," Gesta acknowledged. "They fear us rising to the center of the world."

"In time, perhaps," Cielia said, her voice firm, "but for now we are still regaining our footing. Another enemy is the last thing we need, not when so many already watch us with wary eyes."

Their technological gifts had already reshaped the balance of power. The introduction of antibiotics had upended regional economies, collapsing guilds and merchant networks alike, even as it drew every neighboring state into trade negotiations. Valkasian science and industry, unknown to this world, created both desire and resentment, trade routes strained under new demands, and envy coiled tightly around their every advance.

"For now," Gesta said, breaking the silence, "let us move on. The day brings a dozen other matters."

And so the three turned back to the endless burdens of diplomacy—alliances tenuous, rivals multiplying, opportunities laced with danger.

Far to the west, beyond their reach, another power was already setting its own plans into motion.

 

Grameus Continent – Darelgulla Castle

Along the land bridge that linked Philades to the rest of the known world lay a continent unlike any other. Grameus was a realm shrouded in dread, a land stalked by monsters, demons, and devils. Few dared to venture there, not only for fear of the hostile denizens but also of the land itself, wild and unforgiving. The Topa Kingdom stood as the bulwark between this chaos and the more civilized realms, a barrier of steel and blood. Yet even among the terrors of Grameus, one name was spoken only in whispers: Darelgulla Castle. Perched upon the high peaks of the Guradoah range in the northern reaches, nearly four thousand kilometers from Topa, the ancient fortress was shunned even by the continent's native horrors.

Through the shattered halls of that ruin moved a lone figure. At first glance, he might have been mistaken for a man, but a closer look betrayed his nature—small wings jutted from his back, one black as night, the other pale as snow. His crimson armor gleamed in the pale light filtering through broken stone. He was no human, but one of the Winged People, kin to the Light-Winged of the Ravernal Empire. His name was Daxild Branmar, and he had come at the bidding of the Annonrial Empire.

"Where is that damned thing?" he muttered, his voice echoing faintly off the frost-bitten walls. "Hours across this hell, and still more searching…"

The path to Darelgulla had been perilous. He had crossed the sea by ship, then carved his way inland while avoiding beasts, blizzards, and the ever-watchful spies of the Hedonian Kingdom. Now, within the frozen ruin, the scrape of shifting stone carried eerily through the corridors as snow drifted down through broken vaults and shattered windows.

And then, at last, he found it.

At the heart of the castle lay a cocoon of seething blue energy, its light pulsing faintly like a slumbering heartbeat. Suspended within was a figure whose skin was blacker than midnight, whose twisted form bore a tail and other monstrous features. This was the quarry—an ancient nightmare, a weapon that could veil the empire's movements, spread terror, and sap the strength of kingdoms and empires alike. The Parpaldia Empire would falter, and when the Ravernal Empire returned, the world would already be weakened by horrors such as this.

A slow smile spread across Daxild's face. "Time to wake, Nosgorath. We have a continent to burn."

And in the weeks that followed, a terror unseen for over a century would rise once more.

Yet unbeknownst to Daxild—and to many others—the designs of the Ravernal Empire were already unraveling. Something else was stirring within Grameus, something neither demon nor devil, something that would one day stand against the darkness.

 

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 29 – 18:10 Hours
East Sea – Unknown Location. The Salty Bitch, Deck.

Standing along the deck of the Salty Bitch, Saltpaw took in the vast city rising before them; the skyline was crowned with towers dwarfing anything he had ever laid eyes on. Machines moved about in endless rhythm like swarms of bees, ferrying people from place to place while others hauled cargo toward destinations unknown. What unsettled him most was the complete absence of magic in all this. His lover Alenia's eyes shifted restlessly, darting from one marvel to another, unable to grasp the enormity of what lay before them after their ship had been pulled into the dock. Lights glittered across the buildings, accompanied by moving images—strange symbols and languages neither of them nor their crew could decipher. It resembled a city wrought by gods themselves, and before questions could even be asked, a ramp lowered from the frigate as Casimir emerged with two soldiers at his side.

"Saltpaw, you and Alenia will come with me. Colonial Overseer Jenik wants words with you immediately, and he wastes little time—especially with the colony in disarray," Casimir ordered.

"I can see what has everyone running so feverishly, but what is all of this?" Saltpaw pressed.

"Explanations later. We cannot delay; Jenik's patience is short. If he permits, I'll answer what I can after," Casimir replied briskly.

"Well, no point lingering. Unreal… utterly unreal," Alenia whispered, her voice hushed with awe.

Saltpaw exhaled. "I have witnessed wonders, but nothing on this scale."

"You two and your crew look as though you've glimpsed sorcery itself. From the way you stare, I assume your world has never produced anything close to this," Casimir remarked.

"Never. I've heard of ships forged from metal, but flying craft, machines hauling goods and people alike? My mind cannot keep pace with half of it," Saltpaw admitted, following the ramp laid down by the crew.

"You're not alone. I am equally at a loss. How could humans—or anyone—fashion a city such as this?" Alenia asked, close behind.

"You would be surprised what we humans are capable of. The Pelican will be arriving shortly. Once it does, you two will board and be taken to the Overseer," Casimir explained. "As for me, my report must be filed and new patrol routes drawn."

"You're not accompanying us?" Alenia asked, frowning.

"For now, no. My duties hold me here. A guide will escort you to Jenik, but I will be here when you return," Casimir replied, glancing at the bustling dock. "This will be a long day for all of us."

"Tell me about it, sir," one of the SEAF soldiers muttered. "Once the Pelican lands, the rear hatch will open. Step inside, and it will take you straight to the Overseer."

The three made their way toward a structure at the edge of the dock, where a rising roar announced the arrival of the Pelican. Its engines thundered as it shifted to VTOL mode, scattering dust and debris in violent gusts. Saltpaw and Alenia shielded their faces as the machine descended, its rear ramp yawning open. A SEAF soldier emerged, gesturing sharply for them to board.

"In the name of the gods, what is that contraption? Come, love—we have many questions to unravel once time permits," Alenia said, her eyes wide.

"That's on you; this is already beyond my grasp—just like everything else flying overhead," Saltpaw muttered, following her.

"You two look as though you've never seen a Pelican before. Stranger still seeing one like you walking on two legs," the soldier remarked, glancing curiously at Saltpaw.

"Best get used to it. Where I'm from, folk like me are hardly rare. Your captain told us you're from another world altogether. To think you live without magic—strange indeed. Still, I hope this meeting fares well," Saltpaw answered evenly.

"Magic? Right. Well, questions later. The Overseer is a busy man and wants this meeting done quickly before other matters consume him," the soldier said.

"It's something I will show you later. I must know how this thing flies," Alenia said as she climbed the ramp. "I have always loved new discoveries, and all this… gods, I could spend days here."

"Same here," Saltpaw admitted, ducking his head as he entered. "Cramped, though."

"This is a military craft, not a carriage for civilians. Comfort was never a design priority," the soldier replied, following them aboard. Speaking into his radio, he added, "Pelican 2, ready for dust-off."

Inside the Pelican, Saltpaw and Alenia examined their stark surroundings while the soldier sat across from them. Engines roared as the craft lifted, shifting smoothly from VTOL to flight. The city unfurled beneath them—skylines crawling with aircraft darting in every direction. Soon, the engines flared again, reverting to landing mode as the vessel descended.

"This is Pelican 2. We've arrived at the Overseer's residence. Hope you enjoyed the flight," the pilot quipped.

"That was… rough. I've never traveled so fast. No dragon or beast of the sky could match it. I felt as though something pressed against every part of my body," Alenia said, still pale.

"You'll get used to it. A Pelican can reach orbit in minutes. This was a joyride compared to combat insertions," the soldier explained as the ramp lowered.

"I'd rather not imagine that. Gods, that was stranger than any storm at sea," Saltpaw muttered, shaking his head.

"Come. And later, you'll need to tell me what you are. I've seen my share of aliens lately, and three have tried to kill us with increasing ferocity," the soldier said.

"Aliens? Never heard that word. What does it mean?" Saltpaw asked as they descended.

"It means beings not of this place or people. The ones I speak of have waged endless war upon us—a nightmare unending," the soldier replied grimly, leading them toward the towering structure. "Now, enough chatter; you two have a meeting."

"Yes, sir. By the gods, that is high," Alenia gasped, staring down from the skyscraper's edge.

"Stone and metal shaped into towers… the largest I've seen was scarcely a few dozen meters. This rises hundreds at least," Saltpaw said in disbelief. "How vast is this city? It seems endless."

"Miles in every direction. I don't have precise figures, but over seventy percent of our population lives here. Smaller settlements exist beyond, but none compare," the soldier explained as they crossed the platform toward double doors.

"Gods… how long to build such a place?" Saltpaw wondered.

"And how could you sustain so many lives? Food, order, law—surely it must be chaos," Alenia added.

"I don't know every detail. I'm a soldier, stationed here only recently with the growing crisis against the Illuminate," the soldier answered.

"The what now?" Saltpaw asked, wary.

"A nightmare foe, ravaging our colonies. Pray to whatever gods you serve that they never find this world," the soldier said as he pulled open the massive doors. "Now, head inside; the office is down the hall."

"Very well. Let's go—and I shall pray harder than ever," Alenia whispered.

The soldier's nod betrayed no faith in gods at all. Passing him, the two stepped into a broad corridor lined with banners—emblems of fleets that had crossed the stars to bring them here. At the far end, double doors parted to reveal a man seated at a desk, a sleek gray device in his hand. Jenik raised his eyes, studying them with visible confusion before setting the pad down with deliberate care.

"Well… this is not how I imagined my day unfolding. The captain warned me of what to expect, but seeing it with my own eyes is another matter entirely," Jenik said, his tone sharp with curiosity. "I take it this world is populated by both humans and non-humans?"

"Both, sir," Alenia replied. "Saltpaw here is a Gnoll, and I am a Drow elf. My name is Alenia."

"Curious. Rarely have we found worlds where multiple species rose to intelligence together. Sit—we have much to discuss. As it stands, you two are the very first of your world to visit us," Jenik said. "Now tell me—where are you from, and what lies east of here?"

"The two of us? We are freelancers—merchants who drift from place to place," Saltpaw answered, settling into the chair opposite him. "To the west, there are several kingdoms; the largest and most powerful is the Parpaldia Empire. But before we speak further, there is a matter of concern we must raise."

"And that would be?" Jenik prompted.

"It concerns the nearest kingdom to this location," Alenia said as she took her seat beside Saltpaw. "This land was thought to be unexplored, uninhabited. Were it not for what we have witnessed here, I would never have believed another world existed. Yet clearly, this place is far from empty."

"As you can see, that assumption no longer holds," Jenik replied. "We are part of a civilization far larger than you can fathom—thousands of worlds under the Federation's control. This colony may be cut off from our home, but our way of life endures."

The weight of his words left both of them stunned. The very idea of such a civilization was beyond their wildest imagining.

"You're serious? An empire spanning thousands of worlds? How could such a thing be possible?" Alenia breathed.

"This is getting more and more unbelievable," Saltpaw muttered.

"Later," Jenik said firmly. "For now, let us return to your concerns. You said the nearest kingdoms are a problem."

Saltpaw leaned forward. "Yes. To the west, on the Rodenius Continent, three kingdoms share the land. The greatest threat is the Louria Kingdom. Though you are human yourselves, understand—Louria is planning genocide and enslavement of its neighbors, the Qua-Toyne Principality and the Quila Kingdom. If food is what you lack, Qua-Toyne has fertile farmlands in abundance. Louria seeks hegemony of humanity, and they mean to achieve it by burying the demi-human races beneath mountains of corpses."

"The Quila Kingdom is less fertile but rich in resources," Alenia added. "The dwarves there have mined the mountains for centuries and still barely scratched the surface. Both nations could prove excellent trading partners."

Jenik fell silent, turning the information over in his mind. The Lourian ambition mirrored some of humanity's darkest instincts, instincts the Federation itself had not been innocent of. Super Earth had long since practiced genocide when no other path existed, but slavery was another matter. Experience had taught them that cooperation with other races, where possible, yielded far greater strength. Besides, this colony lacked the military power to conquer the world by force. Influence would have to be won with the carrot, not the stick.

"Slavery is vile beyond words," Jenik said at last. "Our Federation values liberty above all. Yes—we have waged genocidal wars against those who left us no choice, but we also count dozens of races among our citizenry. Unless these kingdoms prove themselves truly hostile, I see no cause to deem them unworthy of life."

"That is reassuring," Saltpaw said, though uneasily. "We already informed a Qua-Toyne commander that you would be visiting tomorrow."

"I know. And I will go," Jenik replied. "But today, we have much more to discuss."

The two exchanged a glance. It was clear this was only the beginning, and the day had already veered into realms neither could have imagined.

Hours passed as the sun slid toward the horizon. Beyond these walls, others too were setting their plans into motion.

 

Border between the Qua-Toyne Principality and the Louria Kingdom. Ten miles away from Watchtower 12.

As the council within the Colony unfolded across the distant sea, events were already taking shape on the Rodenius Continent. In the shadow of the frontier, two scouts returned from their long watch at the border, carrying intelligence of unexpected significance. They found their superior within a cavern hidden deep in the hills, its walls lit by the flicker of torches. At a crude wooden table sat Calcio, a lean figure clad in light leather armor and garments tailored for silence and concealment rather than brute defense. His sharp gaze remained fixed upon the scouts as they delivered their report, their words striking him as both astonishing and promising.

"Hmm… Disgusting," Calcio muttered, his lips curling with disdain. "To fall for a creature little better than an overgrown lizard—one that would sooner devour a man than embrace him. He must imagine their bond to be something unique, though more likely she will grow bored and consume him. Yet if she lingers in such a vulnerable position… that presents an opportunity. And your proposal regarding the black powder—yes, I believe it could succeed."

"She lingers now in her humanoid form," the first scout replied, his voice measured but tense. "With her guard lowered, perhaps she seems vulnerable, but in her own territory she remains a threat beyond measure. If we strike her there, we would sacrifice thousands, perhaps more, and even a swarm of wyverns would falter against her."

The second scout leaned forward, his tone urgent. "From what we have observed, the man in the tower departs frequently—into the forest to gather firewood, or on occasion to the nearest town. That may be our window to lay a trap. But time presses against us. The invasion still begins within the week, does it not?"

"That is the projection," Calcio confirmed, his tone edged with calculation. "Our challenge is ensuring she is present at the moment of the strike. Precision will decide whether the plan succeeds or collapses. Here are your orders: you will assemble additional men within the next two or three days, no more. Then we begin dismantling the watchtowers."

The first scout inclined his head. "Will that coincide with the sappers, when they begin their sabotage ahead of the main force's arrival across the border?"

"Yes," Calcio replied. "Every piece must be in place before the week is out. That is your duty. Once the towers fall and your work is done, you will press deeper into Qua-Toyne territory. Tomorrow I will place a list of targets in your hands."

"Understood, sir," the second scout answered firmly. "We shall see it done. We will prepare the ground so that all unfolds as intended—for humanity must reclaim its place as master of these lands."

For a decade, their nation had labored in secrecy, steel and ambition tempered into a singular purpose. At last, the harvest drew near, and soon the fruits of long years of toil would be reaped.

The scouts bowed and slipped from the cavern into the dark wilderness, their shadows vanishing into the night. Yet as they moved toward their grim task, another thread of destiny was quietly beginning to unravel within the watchtower they had left under surveillance.

 

Qua-Toyne Principality—Western Border—Watchtower 12.

 

With the sun sinking below the horizon, candlelight glowed from the watchtower windows; night was the hour Tyler disliked most. It was his duty to stand guard, yet as he stared out into the growing dark he found his thoughts returning to Alivia's words about wanting children. The idea had once seemed impossible in his life, given all the strange events that had occurred: the flash in the sky, that vast metal thing that had flown overhead, and now the threat of invasion. He had believed he had seen and he...

"So… we try tonight, or wait for another time? Or are you still staring with your mouth on the floor?" Alivia asked with a soft chuckle as she perched on the edge of his cot. "I don't see what the problem is, love."

"Alivia, my duty is to watch for when Louria crosses the border. Do you have any idea what they would do to you—or to us? I can't simply leave my post," Tyler replied. "I am not opposed to children, but I do not want them born into this—while fanatics stand just beyond our line."

"Who said anything about leaving? This is my home as much as yours; we make do with what we have. I know it is a risk, but why not take the leap? I can protect us," Alivia said, leaning closer. "Do you really think those little humans and their toys can harm me? I have killed dragons who fancied they could take me."

"Perhaps not. Still, I don't want you bearing the burden of worrying for me if something happens, or me worrying for you when you carry a child," Tyler said, turning toward her. "This life has never been kind to us. Now it all seems too much. Gods help me—I don't know what to do."

Alivia studied him; she could see the strain in his face. Her confession had unsettled him, and she regretted the timing only a little. She had lived long enough to watch kingdoms rise and fall and to endure the petty wars waged by human and non-human alike. To her, those conflicts were wasteful and senseless; the level of hatred that demanded extermination of entire peoples struck her as a particular brand of madness.

A crooked smile tugged at her mouth as she rose and let her garments fall to the floor, then moved toward him with a deliberate calm, her eyes promising what words would not. Tyler's breath caught; she was beautiful in a way beyond human measure. When she was close, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against her, pressing his chest to hers.

"Listen, love. I know the first time might not guarantee anything, but tonight—let us enjoy what we can. What do you say?" Alivia asked, searching his face with steady eyes.

"I… gods-damn. It's not as if I'm getting younger. What terrifies me is that you will likely outlive me by years," Tyler admitted, folding his arms around her waist.

"Hush. I don't want to hear it—just relax," Alivia said sharply. "Say that again and you will regret it. We live in the now, not in fear." They leaned together, lips meeting in a kiss that held both comfort and urgency, surrendering to a single night of closeness.

The days ahead would become nightmares, leaving scant room for pleasure. As the sun finally sank on the Qua-Toyne Principality, the sky burning low and red, another figure moved in the dark, carrying out a task whose consequences none within the tower could yet imagine.

 

Qua-Toyne Principality. Ejey.

Beneath the emerging stars and the twin moons that crowned the New World, night fell over Qua-Toyne. For most, dusk meant rest and the promise of morning; for the principality's leaders, it promised another sleepless vigil as contingency plans for invasion were drawn tight. Unseen by the continent's populace, however, others moved in the shadowed margins—actors with no regard for Qua-Toyne's welfare, only for their own designs.

Perched at the lip of Ejey's fortress walls, two figures shrouded in travel-stained robes watched the sleeping city, reading the slow ritual of guards taking post and lanterns guttering into steady flame. The taller, a man called Wylie, spoke with a quiet satisfaction. "Those fools in the Louria Kingdom have been an ideal instrument; our timetable proceeds without friction. Who would have imagined humans so readily useful?"

"It has progressed too smoothly," the woman at his side replied. Her name was Yara, and she folded her arms against the cold. "Still, tidy retrieval becomes easier when the Fey, the non-humans, and other obstacles are cleared from the field."

Both served the Annonrial Empire; their purpose on these contested shores was not allegiance to any local cause but the advancement of a foreign agenda. They neither mourned nor opposed Louria's genocidal designs; they accepted the kingdom's aggression as a convenient instrument. Clearing the region of resisting forces removed impediments to their true objective.

Wylie's smile was thin in the lamplight. "This accelerates everything. Soon, this small fortress will be dust. Let them exhaust themselves here; it will weaken the world as a whole." He watched the city below as if it were a chessboard where pawns were already moving into sacrifice.

"Warlike—and short-sighted," Yara said, a bitter chuckle beneath her voice. "They are blinded by superiority and so will taste the force of real power. I admit a fleeting pity, but pity is for the weak. We feel nothing for those we deem inferior."

"To put it plainly, their mixed races make them fragile," Wylie said, the word "purity" a quiet blade in his mouth. "The Light Winged do not need to sully themselves among others. Once we secure the Ravernal Revival Beacons, we will set the world aright and restore rightful order."

Yara nodded. "For now, we must ensure the invasion succeeds—let it blind them. While they slaughter one another, we will seize the beacons."

"It should be simple. Let us return; I tire of this backwater. Our true home calls," Wylie said, voice low with impatience.

They moved away from the parapet, two silhouettes sliding into the alleyways behind the bulwark. Their mission was twofold: guarantee the conflict that would fracture the region, and retrieve the ancient Ravernal Revival Beacons hidden within the Quila Kingdom's depths. Each task fed the other, and each success would bring their masters a step closer to restoring what they called rightful rule over the New World.

The Annonrial agents served a doctrine steeped in contempt for diversity and a belief in hierarchical restoration; their rhetoric masked a methodical discipline that had toppled weaker states before. The Ravernal Beacons were not mere relics but instruments of reclamation—ancient devices said to bend allegiance. In their hands, such power would change borders and bloodlines and culture.

They believed themselves to be architects of destiny. Yet in the calculus of war, plans are fragile things—no scheme survives the first collision with an enemy's unpredictable will.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH

Chapter Text

Helldivers and SEAF Arsenal

Weapons List

Assault Rifles

AR-23 Liberator: The SEAF standard assault rifle offers balanced power, a fire rate, and a lightweight design optimized for smaller targets.

AR-23P Liberator Penetrator: A scoped variant of the Liberator equipped with armor-piercing rounds, ideal for heavily armored enemies.

AR-23C Liberator Concussive: Features explosive rounds and a red-dot sight. Trades increased damage for higher recoil.

BR-14 Adjudicator: Specializes in precision strikes against small groups with its armor-penetrating capabilities.

Submachine Guns (SMGs)

SMG-37 Defender: A high-caliber submachine gun with single-handed operation, offering stability at a reduced rate of fire.

SMG-72 Pummeler: Fires concussive rounds to stagger enemies, prioritizing disruptive power over fire rate.

Shotguns

SG-8 Punisher: Dual-magazine pump-action shotgun, effective against fast, unarmored targets but lacks armor penetration.

SG-8S Slugger: Fires heavy slug rounds for significant single-shot damage against large targets.

SG-225 Breaker: A fully automatic shotgun perfect for crowd control, with frequent reloading required.

SG-225IE Breaker Incendiary: Fires incendiary projectiles and generates heat, suitable for controlled bursts.

SG-225SP Breaker Spray & Pray: Equipped with birdshot rounds to saturate an area, effective against small threats.

Rifles

R-63 Diligence: A high-caliber marksman rifle delivering powerful, precise shots at the cost of the rate of fire.

R-63CS Diligence Counter Sniper: Enhanced version with greater damage, designed for precision single-shot fire.

LAS-5 Scythe: Continuous-beam laser rifle that requires heat sink replacements instead of ammunition.

LAS-16 Sickle: Fires short, controlled laser bursts for versatile combat roles.

PLAS-1 Scorcher: Fires explosive plasma bolts of superheated gas, delivering high-impact devastation.

Sidearms

P-2 Peacemaker: The SEAF standard-issue pistol, combines a high fire rate, quick reload, and ample magazine capacity.

P-19 Redeemer: Fully automatic pistol with an exceptional fire rate, ideal for crowd control.

GP-31 Grenade Pistol: Fires single grenades with manual reloading required between shots.

P-113 Verdict: Gas-operated semi-automatic pistol firing the powerful 14mm "Rapid Deliberation" rounds.

P-4 Senator: A heavy-duty revolver delivering high-damage output with reliable single-round reloads.

Support Weapons

MG-43 Machine Gun: High-power machine gun for stationary use, trading accuracy for increased recoil.

EAT-17 Expendable Anti-Tank: Single-use weapon for damaging armored vehicles, discarded after each use.

RL-77 Airburst Rocket Launcher: Fires warheads that disperse explosive cluster munitions, lethal against lightly armored units.

FLAM-40 Flamethrower: Incendiary weapon for close-range combat.

Ground Vehicles

Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs) and Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFVs)

D‑A4X Infantry Fighting Vehicle (IFV)

Role: Mechanized infantry combat and protected transport — front‑line dismount delivery and direct‑fire support.

Dimensions & Mobility

Length: ~7.8 m; Width: ~3.4 m; Height: ~2.8 m. Combat weight ≈ 25–28 tonnes.

Propulsion: Hybrid compact fusion reactor / high‑density battery with magneto‑hydrodynamic (MHD) drive to the track/levitation system. Ground speed: up to 85 km/h on roads, 45–55 km/h cross‑country.

Suspension: Adaptive electrohydraulic with active ground‑morphing for stabilization during firing and embarkation.

Protection & Survivability

Hull: Multi‑layered composite (nanotube‑reinforced titanium matrix + ceramic reactive layers) rated roughly RHAe equivalent to resist medium autocannon APFSDS at combat ranges; V‑shaped belly & internal spall liners for mine/blast mitigation.

APS: Full‑spectrum Active Protection System with soft‑kill (directed IR/EM jamming, decoys) plus hard‑kill interceptor launchers (high‑velocity countermunitions) in a 360° array.

Signature management: Reduced IR, damped RF emissions, low visual/thermal profile coatings.

Armament & Fire Control

Primary: 30 mm automatic cannon (dual‑feed: HEI / APFSDS) stabilized for accurate fire on the move.

Secondary: Coaxial 7.62–12.7 mm remote weapon station (RWS); optional ATGM launch rails (tandem HEAT/KE missiles) integrated into turret modules.

Fire Control: Integrated ballistic computer, laser rangefinder, multi‑band targeting camera, auto‑targeting linked to squad Sensors and UAV feed for cooperative engagement.

Sensors & Networking

Suite: Multispectral optics (visible/IR), millimeter‑wave radar for short‑range obstacle/target detection, LIDAR for navigation.

Networking: Quantum entanglement node for instantaneous secure comms to vehicle group and squad commanders; local mesh for UAVs.

Situational Awareness: Helmet‑linked augmented reality (AR) overlays for the dismounts; tactical map sync.

Crew / Complement

Crew: 3 (driver, gunner, commander) + capacity for up to 8 fully equipped infantry.

Automation: High degree of autonomy: driver assistance, auto‑stabilization, remote operation mode.

Operational Employment

Mechanized assaults, urban clearing (with active protection and non‑lethal munitions options), convoy escort, dismount carrier for rapid reaction.

Variants & Modularity

Ambulance / command / engineering kits; dedicated ATGM variant with extended launcher bay.

Maintenance / Logistics

Field modular modules for rapid replacement (turret pack, APS pods). Reactor servicing by MMJ8 Virago teams or orbital depot maintenance for major work.

XSA3 Rogue Personal Carrier

Role: Rapid assault, fire support, and spearhead small‑unit insertion; hybrid IFV / light tank role for special operations.

Dimensions & Mobility

Length: ~9.5 m; Width: ~3.6 m; Weight ≈ 36–40 tonnes (heavily protected for its class).

Propulsion: Compact vacuum‑reactor cell powering grav‑augmented tracked/hover hybrid. Road speed >100 km/h; hover 80 km/h over soft terrain.

Mobility features: Variable‑geometry tracks for transition to low‑drag hover mode; limited short‑burst tactical jump via grav‑impulsor.

Protection & Survivability

Armor: Composite multi‑layer with ablative and electromagnetic disruption coatings to reduce shaped‑charge and HEAT effectiveness.

APS: Dual‑tier APS (hard‑kill + soft‑kill) and a forward‑projected active plasma curtain for extreme close threats.

NBC/EMP: Sealed cabin with EMP hardening and biological filtration.

Armament & Fire Control

Primary: Turreted 105 mm low‑recoil cannon (autoloader) optimized for APFSDS and programmable airburst munitions.

Secondary: Roof‑mounted RWS with 20–30 mm autocannon and coaxial machine guns.

Organic UAVs: Internal UAV bay (2–4 micro‑UAVs) for scouting, laser designation, and limited loitering munitions.

Fire control: Advanced ballistic solver with networked sensor fusion from UAVs and other Rogue units for fire correction.

Sensors & Networking

Long‑range electro‑optical sensor mast, LPI radar for target acquisition, integrated UAV control node, Q‑net secure link.

Crew / Complement

Crew: 2 (pilot/commander, gunner/operator) + space for up to 8 SEAF personnel in rapid‑deploy harnesses with fast egress ramps.

Operational Employment

Airborne/VTOL delivered spearhead assaults, rapid reaction to armored threats, convoy escort where firepower and mobility needed.

Variants

Command variant with comms suite, IFV variant with troop‑carrying emphasis, heavy AT variant with extended ATGM pods.

Logistics

Autoreplenishable ammo packs via Viking or mass‑driver supply; field repair via Virago and Rajah CRANE attachments.

Self-Propelled Guns (SPGs)

RK60Z Goliath Self‑Propelled Gun (SPG)

Role: Long‑range indirect artillery support; suppression, counter‑battery, area denial.

Dimensions & Mobility

Chassis: Based on heavy tracked platform; length ~12 m with gun forward, combat weight ~45–55 tonnes.

Mobility: Road speed ≈ 60 km/h; cross‑country ≈ 30–35 km/h. Deployable via rail or heavy cargo VTOLs for strategic repositioning.

Main Armament

155 mm cannon with modular charge architecture; capable of firing HE, smoke, guided HE‑fragmentation, and submunition rounds.

Range: Conventional shells to ~40–60 km; rocket‑assisted/projectile guided munitions >100 km (depending on propellant and trajectory).

Autoloader: High‑capacity autoloader enabling rates of fire up to 6–8 rounds/min sustained in bursts; burst mode for counter‑battery salvos.

Fire Control & Sensors

Integrated ballistic solver, meteorological sensor array for real‑time ballistics correction, on‑board counter‑battery radar (short‑range), and Q‑net targeting uplink.

Support: Manned by forward observers, UAV recon, and sensor nets for precision guided shells.

Protection

Crew compartment armored against small arms and shell fragments; minimal heavy armor (not meant for front‑line close combat).

APS (light): Soft‑kill suite and top‑cover decoys to defeat loitering munitions.

Crew / Complement

Crew: 4 (driver, commander, gunner, systems operator) plus ammunition handling robots in autoload cell.

Operational Employment

Position in prepared hide, shoot‑and‑scoot tactics, massed barrages, precision strikes with guided munitions for high‑value targets.

Variants

MLRS hybrid with containerized rockets; mortar‑conversion for high‑angle urban missions.

Logistics

Ammunition resupply via Viking heavy carriers; emplacement via crawler transporters; barrel and autoloader maintenance managed by Virago teams.

Tanks

EH‑8 Enigma Main Battle Tank (MBT)

Role: Core heavy armored maneuver unit — balanced protection, firepower, and mobility for combined arms.

Dimensions & Mobility

Length (gun forward): ~11.2 m; combat weight ≈ 62–72 tonnes depending on modular armor.

Propulsion: Compact fusion cell with hybrid electric drive to advanced tracked/hover system providing high torque and acceleration; max road speed ~70 km/h, cross‑country ~45 km/h.

Protection

Armor: Layered composite (ceramic, reactive, nanofiber, and spaced steel), modular add‑on ERA/NERA blocks, and passive electromagnetic disruption layers for shaped charge mitigation.

APS: Full‑spectrum Active Protection with both hard‑kill interceptors and soft‑kill directed jamming; top‑shield against ATGMs and loitering munitions.

Radiological/EMP: Hardened internal systems with automatic sealing and filtration.

Armament & Fire Control

Main: 120 mm smoothbore cannon (multi‑mode: APFSDS, programmable airburst, thermobaric munitions) with two‑axis stabilization and advanced autoloader.

Secondary: Coaxial 12.7 mm heavy machine gun; roof‑mounted 30 mm RWS for anti‑infantry and light armor.

Fire Control: AI‑assisted ballistic fire control, multi‑sensor fusion (LIDAR, thermal, IR), hunter‑killer capability, lead computing using networked sensor inputs.

Sensors & Networking

Sensor mast with panoramic optics, battlefield radar for short‑range obstacle and incoming threat detection, Q‑net link to brigade tactical net and UAV assets.

Crew

Crew: 3 (driver, gunner, commander) with high automation; option for remote‑operation control.

Operational Employment

Combined arms spearhead, urban breaching with specialized munitions, armored defense against mechanized formations.

Variants

Engineer MBT (dozer/bridge kit), ARV (armored recovery), urban assault variant with reinforced top armor and reduced profile.

Logistics

Requires heavy fuel and ammo supply; turret/tracking components serviced by Virago; heavy repairs at shipyard/drydock or dedicated tank depots.

PJY9 Khan Light Tank

Role: Reconnaissance, rapid striking, flank harassment — trade armor for speed and agility.

Dimensions & Mobility

Compact: Length ~6.5–7.2 m; weight ≈ 18–22 tonnes.

Propulsion: High‑output fusion battery and vectored‑thrust micro‑grav units to give excellent acceleration and capability in rough terrain; top speed >120 km/h on roads, 70–90 km/h cross‑country.

Protection

Armor: Lightweight composite + reactive tiles — protection against autocannons and small ATGMs at slant angles; low signature coatings for stealth.

APS: Light active protection focusing on frontal arc.

Armament

75 mm hyper‑velocity cannon (autoloader) optimized for rapid‑fire kinetic rounds and programmable airburst shells.

Secondary: RWS with 7.62–12.7 mm or 20 mm options.

Sensors & Networking

Advanced low‑probability‑of‑intercept (LPI) radar, high‑res EO/IR pods, and Q‑net link to reconnaissance mesh for instant target handoff.

Crew

Crew: 2 (driver/pilot and gunner/commander) plus optional remote operation.

Operational Employment

Scout forces, screening elements, hit‑and‑run against heavier formations; ideal in combined arms as rapid response & interdiction unit.

Variants

Recon‑pack with extended sensor mast and drones; AT variant with guided missiles in place of some ammo stowage.

Logistics

Low footprint resupply; amenable to airlift or mass‑driver emplacement.

S3585 Ogre Tank Destroyer

Role: Long‑range anti‑armor platform; designed to defeat heavy armored threats via supersonic ATGMs and large caliber main gun.

Dimensions & Mobility

Length: ~10.5 m; weight ≈ 55–68 tonnes.

Mobility: Heavy tracked vehicle with powerful hybrid drive; road speed ~55–65 km/h.

Protection

Heavy composite frontal armor and sloped glacis; limited side/rear armor to control mass.

APS tiered system optimized to protect against ATGM strikes and airbursts; top protection for loitering munitions.

Armament

Primary: 142 mm smoothbore high‑pressure gun able to fire sabot APFSDS, guided fin‑stabilized rounds, and specialized long‑rod penetrators.

Secondary: 20 mm autocannon atop turret for air/infantry suppression; coaxial HMG for close defense.

Missile Capability: Complemented by supersonic ATGMs with active seekers for beyond‑line‑of‑sight engagements.

Fire Control

Long‑range optics, high‑precision ballistic computer, integrated target data from over‑horizon sensors and UAVs for first‑shot kill doctrine.

Crew

Crew: 3 (driver, gunner, commander) plus automated ammo handling.

Operational Employment

Ambush heavy armor, overwatch for mechanized withdrawals, and defend choke points where heavy enemy armor expected.

Variants

Bastion‑derived successor TD‑110 increases automation and missile pack capacity.

Logistics

Requires heavy ammo supplies; main gun barrels and autoloader maintenance frequent after high‑pressure firing.

ZF‑61 Titan Heavy Tank

Role: Strategic breakthrough and heavy assault against fortified positions, massed armor, and emergent Factory Strider / Bile Titan class threats.

Dimensions & Mobility

Length: ~12.8 m; combat weight ≈ 120–150 tonnes (modular armor changeable by mission).

Propulsion: Multiple compact fusion cells with distributed electric drives; advanced active suspension to manage weight; limited hover/assist grav units for trench crossing. Max road speed ~55 km/h.

Protection & Survivability

Armor: Multi‑layer superalloy core, neutronium‑composite inserts (where available), multi‑element reactive layers, and external sacrificial composite plates. Designed for high kinetic damping and thermal dispersion.

Special Hardening: Designed explicitly to be immune (operationally resilient) to biological agents, chemical aerosols, EMP, and direct nuclear radiation via sealed, shielded electronics and gas‑filtration life support.

APS: Multi‑ring hard‑kill interceptors (projectile & directed energy countermeasures), active top‑shielding for loitering munitions and artillery airbursts.

Armament

Primary: 152 mm high‑velocity cannon (multi‑mode) capable of firing APFSDS, programmable airburst, thermobaric, and kinetic penetrator rounds.

Secondary: Twin 30 mm autocannons mounted on rear turret area for 360° coverage of close targets and light armored threats; heavy coaxial machine guns and roof CIWS options.

Optional: Modular missile bays for long‑range ATGMs or anti‑structure munitions.

Sensors & Networking

Multi‑band sensor fusion: millimeter wave, LIDAR, full‑spectrum EO/IR, active/passive radar, gravity anomaly detector for subterranean threats.

Battlefield AI: In‑vehicle AI co‑pilot integrates data from nearby drone hives, fleet sensor nets, and satellite Q‑nodes.

Crew

Crew: 3 (driver, gunner, commander) with expanded internal systems for extended endurance; automated repair bots for minor hull damage.

Operational Employment

Breakthrough assaults, siege reduction, assault on fortified and contaminated areas, and direct engagement against megafauna or factory-class mechanized threats.

Often deployed with dedicated logistics chain and drone escort to manage weight & sustainment.

Variants

Siege variant with enhanced demolition munitions; command variant with expanded communications and sensor array.

Logistics

High sustainment demand (fuel, ammo, maintenance). Major repairs at strategic depots; requires heavy lift for strategic redeployments.

Anti-Air Vehicles

X‑P36 Wolfhound Anti‑Air Tank

Role: Mobile, short‑to‑medium range air defense for mechanized formations and static assets.

Dimensions & Mobility

Length ~8.6 m; weight ≈ 30–38 tonnes.

Propulsion: High‑output hybrid drive; road speed ~90 km/h.

Armament

Twin 35 mm rapid autocannons (stabilized and slaved to radar tracking) for short‑range engagement against aircraft and missiles.

Missile systems: Radar‑guided SAM launchers (quad cells) with layered missile options (hit‑to‑kill, proximity fuse).

Secondary: Remote HMG for ground targets.

Sensors & Tracking

3D phased‑array radar integrated with IRST (IR search & track) sensors, laser rangefinder, and link to battlefield air picture (Q‑net).

Engagement Suite: Auto‑track, auto‑cue for rapid target prioritization, and integrated decoy deployment.

Protection

Medium composite armor; APS to defend against ATGMs and top‑attack munitions.

Crew

Crew: 3 (driver, commander/radar operator, gunner) with high automation.

Operational Employment

Point air defense for convoys, mechanized columns, and static depots; integrated into air defense umbrella with mobile SAM batteries and fleet assets.

Variants

Extended radar version for low‑altitude early warning; vehicle‑mounted C2 node variant.

Logistics

Missile resupply via Viking carriers, ammunition packs managed by Rajah cranes for magazine swaps.

Logistics and Support

MMJ8 Virago Repair Vehicle

Role: Mobile field repair, recovery, and limited maintenance for mechanized forces.

Dimensions & Mobility

Chassis: Heavy tracked/leg hybrid for terrain access; weight ≈ 28–35 tonnes.

Mobility: Road speed ~45–60 km/h; designed to keep pace with mechanized units.

Equipment & Capability

Onboard modular repair bay with nanobot repair dispensers, welding & composite patching tools, battery and small reactor swap modules.

Crane arm with 6–10 tonne lift capacity for turret/tracked work and casualty extraction.

Autonomous diagnostic suite that interfaces with vehicle Q‑node for remote troubleshooting and ordering replacement parts.

Protection

Light armored cab; shielding against shrapnel and small arms. Soft‑kill APS for local defense only.

Crew

Crew: 3–4 technicians + robotic assistant modules; can operate unmanned via remote link for high‑risk recovery.

Operational Employment

Forward repairs, recovery of disabled vehicles, emergency hull/drive repair, and limited replacement of components; triage to larger repair depots.

Variants

Heavier ARV variant with winch & tow for MBTs; medical evacuation variant with hybrid medbay.

Logistics

Carries spare components and consumables; resupplied by Viking cargo carriers.

L0X0 Viking Cargo Carrier

Role: General cargo transport — supplies, ammo, medical, and materiel delivery in battlefield and logistical corridors.

Dimensions & Mobility

Cargo module options from 6–20 tonnes to larger 60+ tonne palletized modules; vehicle length varies by module.

Propulsion: Diesel‑electric or compact fusion depending on theater; tracked, wheeled, or grav‑lift variants for different terrain.

Capabilities

Rapid modular load/unload with integrated craning system; sealed containers for hazardous materials.

Autonomous convoys with platoon leader AI, convoy lane management, and obstacle avoidance.

Protection

Armored cab options for contested environments; optional soft armor and APS for front‑line resupply.

Crew

Unmanned/autonomous with remote oversight; optionally one driver/operator for manual mode.

Operational Employment

Logistics backbone for forward operating bases (FOBs), ammo lines, medical resupply, and base construction materials.

Variants

Fuel tanker, medevac supply module, ammo module, prefabricated shelter carrier.

Logistics

Integrated with FLNTS (Fleet Logistics & Naval Transport Systems) for routing; mass‑driver, elevator, or VTOL loading compatible.

D‑G9R Rajah Armored Utility Vehicle

Role: Multi‑purpose engineering and maintenance vehicle for vehicle recovery, construction, and field repairs.

Dimensions & Mobility

Medium chassis (10–16 tonnes); agile with crane arm and modular tool bays.

Speed ~70 km/h on road.

Equipment

Telescopic crane (capable of 8–12 tonnes at 5 m reach), winches, cutting & welding tools, deployable repair drones and nanobot dispensers.

Modular tool trays for pipeline, bridge, or vehicle maintenance kits.

Protection

Armored cab and undercarriage for operations near frontlines; EMP, NBC protection.

Crew

2–3 engineers + robotic assistants; can operate remotely.

Operational Employment

Field repairs, bridge/road construction, emplacement of fortifications, mast & antenna erection, and vehicle recovery.

Variants

Bridge‑layer, conduit‑laying, and heavy‑lift variants.

Logistics

Resupplied by Viking carriers; integrates with Industrial & Fleet maintenance networks.

Exosuits

EXO-45 Patriot Exosuit: A walking exosuit equipped with a rocket launcher and heavy machine gun.

EXO-49 Emancipator Exosuit: Dual autocannons for high-volume firepower.

VTOLs

XP‑0 Skyhawk (VTOL / Rotary)

Role: Light scout/anti‑tank gunship — recon, target acquisition, and light strike against armored threats.

Airframe & Propulsion

Small single‑seat rotary/tilt‑rotor craft; empty weight ~4–5 tonnes; max takeoff ~6–7 tonnes.

Propulsion: High‑efficiency turbine/ion hybrid with vectored thrust rotors for agility and hover endurance.

Range: Combat radius ~350–500 km; endurance 2–3 hours depending on load.

Avionics & Sensors

Advanced avionics suite with helmet‑linked HUD, LPI radar, EO/IR targeting pods, laser designator, and datalink to Q‑net.

Sensor fusion for target cueing and cooperative engagement with ground units.

Armament

30 mm cannon (chin/gimballed), guided anti‑tank missiles (2–8 hardpoints depending on configuration), rockets/pods for area suppression.

Defensive: Chaff/flare dispensers, soft‑kill jammers, and low‑RCS coatings.

Crew

1 pilot (single‑seat); optionally unmanned/autonomous flight with remote operator for long missions.

Operational Employment

Anti‑tank missions, armed reconnaissance, close air support (CAS) for mechanized columns, urban overwatch.

Variants

Unmanned recon variant with extended sensor payload and longer‑endurance fuel cells.

Logistics

Maintained at airfields or forward shipborne shelters; low footprint for dispersed basing.

SYH‑5 Ironwing (Gunship / Transport Derivative)

Role: Multi‑role gunship derived from heavy transport — close air support, assault, and heavy ordnance delivery.

Airframe & Propulsion

Medium sized VTOL/short takeoff craft; cargo bay reconfigured for ordnance and weapon mounts.

Propulsion: Multiple vectored‑thrust units with auxiliary lift fans for heavy payloads.

Payload: Can carry heavy bombs, missile pods, and small vehicles; typical payload 6–12 tonnes.

Avionics & Sensors

Robust sensor suite (radar, EO/IR, LIDAR), fire control for rockets and glide bombs, datalink for Q‑net coordination.

Armament

Wing hardpoints for rockets, bombs, and guided munitions; internal bomb bay; optional chin or turreted autocannons.

Defensive systems: Electronic warfare suite, decoys, chaff/flares, and self‑shielding for survivability on assault runs.

Crew

Typically 2–3 (pilot, co‑pilot/weapons officer, loadmaster); can operate with remote weapon control and partial autonomy.

Operational Employment

Close air support in heavy engagements, airborne assault (drop and provide fire support), anti‑structure bombing, and heavy cargo lift when configured for transport.

Variants

Pure transport variant (Pelican lineage), CAS/gunship with reinforced armor and extra EW suites, medevac/resupply.

Logistics

Requires forward basing capable of VTOL operations; maintained by aviation corps and supported by air logistics chain.

Edited thanks to ELE73CH.