The year is 1790 of the Idannon calender..

Seven nations lie upon the soil of Idanno; States Of Velosso, United Federation Of Avalus, Theological States Of Kerinya, Hequizarian Order, Velestin Republic, Revisian Order and Wythrian Order.

These countries have landmasses similar to continents as most of them have undergone some sort of unification of states around circa 1500 - 1600 IC.

Wythria, Revisia and Hequizaria are allied and form the Great Northern Order

The nations of the GNO are known to be fascist, imperialistic, colonialist and expansionist. They're cruel and ruthless, forcing one single ideology onto their citizens, and that is; Absolute obedience for benefits and services.

Rebellion is squashed under the boots of soldiers under 24 hours, regardless of where it starts.

While, Velloso, Avalus, Kerinya and Velest are known for their democratic ideas, making them a utopia against fascism. They form the Equilibrian Overwatch Order, EOO is simple but difficult, covertly destroy the GNO.

...

In a small town in the territories of Wythria—

Gunshots rang out through the air, accompanied by screams of terror, whether it be clear or muffled by the boiling and burning of their flesh and guts.

The town was in ruins, buildings burnt, crumbled and toppled over into burning rubble.

What had befallen the town of Winstet?

The smoke choked out the survivors, charring any buildings that remained though, not for long as autocannons fired volleys of 50-MM rounds and tore through concrete, wood and steel as if it were wet paper and sent shrapnel flying to maim and kill any survivors within.

The reek of blood, burning flesh and charred flesh filled the air, accompanied by screams of terror, whether it be comprehensible speech or speech tainted by the gurgling of blood and flesh within whoever spoke it. 

The thundering sounds of large, mechanical footsteps was heard in the background, accompanied by barking of orders through mechanical vocalizers, "Purge everyone! Reduce the place to rubble and ruin! Glory to Wythria! Long live the Wythrian nobility!"

Netheric cannonz went off, turning buildings to molten piles of concrete and metal.

The town, made up of simplistic yet, elegant and efficient buildings now finds itself under boots of soldiers, walker legs of mechs and tank treads.

A large bell tower which stood in the centre of the town was hit with a volley of cannonfire, the large bell was disengaged from it's hooks and fell down, crashing through the wooden and concrete layers of the bell tower, causing the once proud and tall power to crumble.

Large mechs, standing at 4 metres tall, of black and grey metal stomped through the rubble, their lights illuminated the darkened streets of the poor and ruined town. Banners of the Wythrian Terran Guard swayed from side to side on their back; two guns painted in black, surrounded by a laurel of knifes painted in white on a red background with a black outer trim, followed by a number at the bottom; the brigade number theu belonged to. While, the red banner Wythria was above all else, a red background with a white trim, a golden "W" surrounded by a laurel of golden and silver leaves, representing power and nobility and encompassed by a 10 pointed star. 

The weapons of the mechs; autocannons, missile launchers, cannons and Nether cannons glistened in the faint light.

The once clear skies were now tainted in black and grey smoke.

Soldiers clad in black and grey power armour, charred metal and steel-white tubing was on the armour, their glowing red visors illuminated their path ahead. Their weapons ranged from sniper rifles, shotguns machine guns to handheld autocannons and Netheric blasters.

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Civilians were being shot, left and right with Netheric autocannons, their flesh and bone pulverised and turned to molten sludge while any resistance was met with retaliation tenfold.

Soldiers clad in sleek black power armour with polygonal shaped armour plating with red and white trims and small tubes of violet marched through the city, standard holders carrying banners atop long, gold and silver poles accompanied them. On the pauldrons of the soldiers were the letters written in a gothic font; "Black Shackles. Remind them, retake, reinforce, enforce, punish"

The soldiers stopped in front of a man and saluted, the man was tall at 189 CM and stood atop a pile of rubble.

Clad in sleek, armour which was sharp yet, not polygonal and was close to a Knight's armour. The plating was minimalistic yet, striking with it's smooth edged polygonal shaped plating and spider web-like silver grids through which small metallic violet tubings of Netheric Energy went through, two small red glass cylinders containing a swirling black liquid with red sparks emanating from it on each forearm, held together in the same exoskeleton. The glass had the small words, written in thin gothic text, its silver colour stark against the red text:

'Exercise caution when replacing shield generators.'

Two small and thin hydraulic tubes, shieled in the same hexagonal exoskeleton were on each limb of the power armour.

The armour portrayed the lithe, toned, slim, slender and elegant body of it's wearer. The armour's polished surface glistened in the faint light, it's Netheric machinery emitted a low hum. Two, large mechanical arms, sleek and elegant in design were extended from it's back, each having a claw, each of the arm was as big as the arm of a human adult male yet, slightly longer than average. A black cloak of black draped over the armour, it was from it's pauldrons and stopped at the knees. A weapon hung from his waist, a double barreled handheld Netheric Energy rifle, it's design was like his armour, sleek, polygonal and utilising that same grey hexagonal mesh exoskeleton, the barrels of the gun were long and it had a adjustable scope, making it viable for all ranges. While, on the left side of his waist, was a scabbard holding a sword. 

The left vambrace of the armour was different, had multiple 'v' shaped plating from the shoulder to the wrist as opposed to the single plate of the right vambrace, a silver exoskeleton was visible from the thin slits in between the gaps of the armour. A black cloak spread over the power armour, from shoulders to knees. 

"The Black Shackles are at your order, Lord Enforcer Alistair." One soldier, wearing larger and more complex armour stepped out of the lines, saluting respectfully.

"Status report." The man clad in four-armed armour said, his voice was calm yet, there was an underlying sense of menace and an undeniable sense of dark beneath that elegant and velvety smoothness.

One soldier stepped out, saluting once again, "My Lord, the city is mostly destroyed and has been turned into rubble, the survivors have been rounded up and await your judgement." The soldier said, his voice was steady and unwavering.. though, there was an underlying sense of fear as he stood before none-other than Alistair Wyrrex, The Lord Enforcer of Wythria, the one in charge of breaking anyone within Wythria who dares to oppose the reign of Lord Archon Urzaes — The Archon, ruler and the best suitable ruler for the Wythrian Nobility.

"Very well," Alistair replied calmly, stepping off the pile of rubble, "Lead the way, soldier." He said, he took off his helmet, revealing his face, it was handsome with delicate features, holding charm to his appearance and undeniably high degree of elegance, his skin was pale and snow-white, almost lifeless and.. slightly emitted a red light from the visible veins. Yet, The man's left eye had a red iris..unlike the right one which had a brilliant violet one, it's pupils were pitch black, under his left eye, his crow's feet bore near stygian black skin, crack-like veins emanating red light as if cracks in reality. The man's face had no facial hair, completely smooth.

The man's face was haunting yet, mesmerising. It was angelic yet, belonged to a demon, a psychopath, a slaughterer.

Alistair walked, his soldiers around him as if they were in a defensive formation, though, it's not really.. necessary, Alistair.. didn't need protection..

Alistair now reached the place where the survivors or, rather, soon to be slaves and prisoners were or well, if they are lucky, they'd be killed, it was a better fate than being a slave because, slavery would result in anything ranging from violation, defilement, maiming, torture, backbreaking labour or being turned into beings of murder. the demolished town square, it once was serene, the once park is now a patch of charred grass and burning vegetation. The air smelled of burnt flesh, grass and trees along with rotting flesh.

Corpses of people, whether it be men, woman or even children, literred the ground, each one disfigured and maimed and of course, rotted, even though, these corpses were.. fresh. This is due to well.. bioweapons, The Grey Scorcher; a bomb that could rott flesh and increase decomposition of organic matter, using all the energy within an organic matter to fuel itself.

As Alistair reached the town square, he was met with the sight of kneeling and cowering men, woman and children, dressed in tattered clothing and all injured in some way, ranging from cuts, wounds to dismemberment and maimed condition.

Yet, there was one man, a young teenager, who attempted to be some hero, as if he's the main character in some dark and gritty story.

The young teenager looks up at Alistair, his eyes burning with hatred, "You..! You inhumane piece of shit! Death to Urzaes!"

The soldiers around Alistair exchanged glances, they raised their weapons at the boy, choosing the most painful weapon in their arsenal, "You dare speak?" One soldier says with contempt, his voice filled with dominance and coldness, he steps towards the boy. The weapon in the soldier's hands hummed softly as it charges with Netheric Energy, it's barrel starts to emit a red light.

The other survivors around the boy sighed in grief, many had tears flowing down their eyes, they closed their eyes in anticipation and horror.