Chapter 1 | The Beginning of The End

1

“I am so bored!” Aluxi shouted, stretching both of his arms out in deep mental and psychological agony. “I can not do this… I am a god! I have my own domain to thrive off of. How and why am I the only god to suffer in silence while my brethren and sistren enjoyed managing their perspective domain!”

He was right.

Aluxi is a god—specifically, one of war.

All of the other gods and goddesses get to meddle with the mortals as they damn well wish, all except him, who suffered alone from the lack of war. For him the time of peace is and will always be his greatest nemesis. No war means no fight. No fight means no suffering. No suffering means he is left to do nothing.

He wished not for mortal suffering, but he just wanted his existence to matter, to do something he was made for. And now, the mortals of Emidia are far too peaceful for his liking. He craved wars… or just a war—one big enough for him to perform his divine duties.

“What has actually happened to these mortals? They used to be very violent to each other.”

He wandered around his divine chamber in heaven, the bright, honestly blinding light shining down into his chamber seemingly irritated him the more days passed without a major mortal conflict.

“I miss war!” He fell down to the floor deliberately, laying down flat, groaning and whining. “What happened to those mortal kings and queens anyway? They used to end their differences by hurling stones at each other’s walls with their siege weapons, now… nothing! No armed conflict, no border arguments, no kidnappings, nothing!”

He rolled around the floor like a petulant child, kicking his feet up and down and up and down, again and again.

The door opened and entered his sister, Rindira, the goddess of wisdom, one of the three major deities alongside him and his other sister the supreme goddess of them all, Heth. Aluxi, who was lying flat on his back opposing the door, pulled his head back slightly, gazing at his sister and her seemingly provocative smug smirk.

He scoffed. “What do you want, oh dear sister?” Aluxi asked, his tone annoyed.

Rindira approached him and when she was standing right in front of him, she tapped the base of her staff on his forehead, smiling gracefully yet mockingly. “Good morning to you too, oh dear brother,” she smirked even more. “I take it that you are not enjoying your day, this… beautiful day?”

Aluxi narrowed his eyes. “What is there to enjoy?” He bit his lips. “There is no war, no death, no bloody conflict, no honorable killing… I’m dying of boredom here.”

Rindira sat next to his head. “You should consider this a break, oh dear brother. It’s not everyday the mortals agreed on a time of peace and tranquility. Unlike three thousand years ago, mortals of today are much wiser and see war as things of the past.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way… but times of peace and tranquility only benefit gods and goddesses like you and the other hundreds of minor ones who do not see things in a more neutral and natural manner as I do, sister.” Aluxi sat up and turned his body to face Rindira.

“I exist to guide the mortals in war and conflict… that’s it,” he added, moving his hand to the side in a cutting motion. “I do not take enjoyment in their suffering, believe me, I do not. But I have to do it either way as that is the exact reason I exist. You exist to give the mortals your wisdom. Others exist to control the weather, some to birth animals and plants—but me? I need mortals to war, it’s very simple.”

Rindira smiled, playing with his hair. “You know, as much as a god that you are, oh dear brother, you are a living being.”

Aluxi furrowed at her statement. “What’s your point?”

“You are, by all technicalities, mortals and immortals alike, allowed to ask me for wisdom in your… I would dare say trying times,” she said, her tone sounding like a fishing hook calling for fishes to take the bait. “You know as well as I do many gods and goddesses ask me for wisdom too, yes? I counted and remembered who has asked me for wisdom… and guess whose name is not in the list?” She slowly turned her head at him. “You.”

Aluxi looked at her suspiciously. Even if Rindira is his own sister, he never felt comfortable speaking to her. “Are you asking me to ask you for wisdom, you sly goddess?”

“Well.” she shrugged. “I felt it was my responsibility as your sister and fellow divine to remind you that you are never alone in your divine responsibilities.”

Aluxi kept eyeing her, his suspicion growing. “I do not trust that smile of yours, sister.” He leaned his face closer to her, looking at her straight in her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re expecting me to owe you a favour in the future?”

“What?! Such prejudice!” she defensively said with a joking tone, flapping her arms around in mock disbelief. “No, seriously. I am not. As always… The first time is free. Go on. Ask me anything. Especially with you as my dearest brother, I’ll give you my best wisdom. Promise. No joke.”

Aluxi inhaled deeply before slowly letting out a long exhale. “Fine,” he said, facepalming himself. “Dear Rindira, oh the wisest of the wisest of the gods,” he began, imitating how mortals would say their prayers in her name. “What wisdom do you have for me in my troubling times, oh wise goddess? I pray to thee, I am but a humble creation of the gods. Tell me your wisdom… and my best harvest would be turned into loaves of bread in the sanctity of your name, oh goddess.”

He then returned to his furrowing, skeptical look. “There. Are you happy now, oh sister dearest?”

She giggled slightly. “You don’t have to do the whole mortal prayers, you annoying locust—”

Aluxi groaned impatiently. “Just spit it out already. Your wisdom. Give me it.”

Rindira rested her chin on her hand, her smirk unwavering. “Alright, since you’re so desperate for my wisdom, here it is: if your purpose is to guide mortals in war, perhaps you should give them a reason to fight.”

Aluxi raised an eyebrow. “Give them a reason? What kind of wisdom is that? That’s like telling a fish to swim.”

“Not exactly.” Rindira tapped the base of her staff on the ground, causing the faint glow of divine energy to pulse through the chamber. “You’ve been waiting for them to start something on their own, but you’re a god, Aluxi. Mortals act on instinct; they don’t know what’s best for themselves until someone—someone like you—nudges them in the right direction.”

“Nudge them?” Aluxi’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t nudge, Rindira. I inspire, guide, and ignite passions.”

She leaned back, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. But you’ve been sitting here whining about peace as though you’re powerless to do anything. Why not… stir the pot?”

Aluxi crossed his arms, deep in thought. “And how exactly do I do that without making Heth and the rest of the pantheon throw me into the celestial void?”

Rindira chuckled, her voice light but laced with a hint of mischief. “Well, it just so happens that the universe is vast, brother. Who’s to say the mortals of Emidia are the only ones you can… inspire?”

“What are you suggesting?” His voice grew sharper, intrigued but cautious.

“Beyond the stars, beyond what these mortals know, there are other realms, other worlds—some teeming with life and conflict, others ripe for… enlightenment.” She gestured dramatically with her free hand, her eyes sparkling with feigned innocence. “What if, just for fun, you introduced our dear Emidians to one of these places? A little interdimensional exchange, if you will.”

Aluxi’s gaze hardened. “Interdimensional meddling? You’re joking.”

“Am I?” She leaned closer, her smirk widening. “Think about it. If you’re so starved for conflict, why not take matters into your own hands? Mortals love stories of gods granting them challenges, trials, and opportunities to prove their worth. You’d be doing them a favor.”

“Forgetting the part where such meddling has a habit of backfiring,” Aluxi muttered, though a glint of curiosity crept into his expression. “Still, it’s… an interesting thought.”

Rindira’s tone turned coy. “And when it works, you’ll owe me nothing but the satisfaction of seeing my wisdom pay off. No strings attached.”

Aluxi stared at her for a long moment, the gears of his divine mind turning. “And if it doesn’t work?”

She stood, brushing off her robes. “Then it doesn’t work. You can go back to whining on your floor like a petulant child. But something tells me you’ll find a way to make it interesting.”

He rose to his feet, his towering figure radiating newfound energy. “Interesting? I’ll do better than interesting. If I’m going to stir the pot, as you say, I’ll create something unforgettable.”

“Now that’s the spirit.” Rindira stepped toward the door, pausing just before leaving. “Just be careful, brother. Opening doors you don’t fully understand has consequences—sometimes for the opener.”

“Don’t lecture me, sister,” Aluxi called after her. “Your role is wisdom, not doom-mongering.”

Rindira’s laughter echoed as she disappeared from the chamber, leaving Aluxi alone with his thoughts.

*  

Aluxi paced his chamber, the initial doubt in his mind slowly being replaced by conviction. His divine essence hummed with anticipation as he extended a hand. A brilliant orb of light materialized, pulsating like a heartbeat.

“A portal,” he mused aloud. “Something grand, something bold. The mortals of Emidia will have no choice but to rise to the occasion.”

The orb began to expand, shifting and warping as Aluxi poured his energy into it. Visions of countless worlds flashed within its swirling depths—lush planets, barren wastelands, alien civilizations locked in endless war. Each possibility flickered for a moment before vanishing, until one image held steady.

A world of sprawling cities, gleaming towers, and ships that sailed the stars. The vision radiated power, order, and potential chaos. Aluxi’s lips curled into a smile.

“This will do nicely.”

He focused his divine will, tethering the portal’s destination to this world. Energy crackled through the chamber, the air growing heavy with the weight of cosmic forces. The swirling light solidified into a shimmering gateway, its edges lined with intricate patterns that pulsed with divine power.

Just as Aluxi admired his creation, a shadow flickered in the corner of the chamber. A soft but commanding voice cut through the crackling energy.

“Aluxi, what are you doing?”

He froze, turning slowly to see Heth, the supreme goddess, standing at the edge of the chamber. Her radiant form exuded an aura of calm authority, but her piercing gaze carried the weight of eternity.

“Heth,” he said, straightening his posture. “I was just… experimenting.”

“Experimenting?” Her voice was quiet but firm, each word laced with unspoken judgment. “You tamper with the fabric of existence under the guise of curiosity. Do you truly believe this will end well?”

Aluxi hesitated, his confidence wavering. “The mortals need purpose. They need conflict to grow stronger, to—”

“They need guidance,” Heth interrupted. “Not chaos. Not destruction. And certainly not whatever lies on the other side of this portal.”

“Is it not my domain to guide them in war?” he countered, his tone defiant. “I’m fulfilling my purpose, just as you fulfill yours.”

Heth’s expression softened slightly, though her voice remained stern. “Your purpose is not to unleash devastation unchecked. If you proceed with this, know that you alone will bear the consequences.”

For a moment, silence filled the chamber. Then Aluxi straightened, his resolve hardening. “So be it.”

Without another word, Heth vanished, her presence fading like the final note of a song. Aluxi turned back to the portal, his jaw set.

“Let the mortals of Emidia prove their worth,” he said, stepping forward. With a final surge of divine energy, the gateway roared to life. “What world can you give me, oh endless universe? Give me a world that will forever shake my mortals. Give me… the worst of the worst!!!”

2

The Great Hall of Helvetia resounded with whispers of unease as the royal court convened to discuss the divine phenomenon. Priests clad in robes of gold and crimson bowed before King Polpe IV, their faces etched with a mixture of reverence and trepidation.

One priest, an elder with a voice tempered by years of service, spoke first. “Your Majesty, this portal… it is not a natural occurrence. We believe it to be a sign from the heavens, possibly an intervention by the gods themselves. Heth’s will may be guiding us to…”

“To what?” Polpe interrupted, his tone sharp and impatient. The king’s piercing gaze swept across the room. “Speak plainly, old man. If the gods wish to send a sign, why shroud it in mystery? Why not summon me to their celestial halls directly?”

The elder priest hesitated, choosing his next words with care. “Such matters are rarely so clear, Your Majesty. The gods often test us with ambiguity, ensuring we act with wisdom and prudence. Rindira, the goddess of wisdom, would counsel caution—”

Polpe raised a hand to silence him, his jaw tightening. “Wisdom, prudence… caution.” He spat the words like they were sour in his mouth. “I have no patience for such cowardice. Helvetia is the mightiest kingdom in Emidia! If the gods have opened a door for us, it is a door to opportunity, not hesitation.”

He stood from his throne, his ornate armor catching the sunlight streaming through the hall’s stained-glass windows. “Summon the generals. We will not crawl to this portal with wagging tongues and hands outstretched. We will march with banners raised high and swords gleaming. Let the other side see the strength and glory of Helvetia!”

A murmur of approval rippled through the court, particularly among the nobles and war-minded lords. Two figures at the king’s right hand stood, their expressions alight with fervor.

“Yes, Father,” said Prince Orad, the eldest of Polpe’s three children. His frame was broad and imposing, his voice commanding. “This is an opportunity to expand our borders and show the gods that Helvetia is the rightful master of all realms.”

“Orad speaks truth,” chimed in Prince Kensa, his younger brother. Though leaner and more calculating than Orad, his ambitions burned no less fiercely. “No kingdom in Emidia could resist our might. Why should we hesitate before an unknown world? It could be brimming with riches and resources ripe for the taking.”

Polpe nodded approvingly at his sons. “Then it is settled. Assemble a force of one hundred thousand. They will march within three days. Ensure the first soldiers to step through that portal carry Helvetia’s banners—let them know who their future masters are.”

The court erupted in applause, but not all voices joined the chorus.

“Father, this is madness!”

The voice rang out clear and defiant, silencing the applause. All eyes turned to Princess Ardila, the youngest of Polpe’s children, who stood with her fists clenched and her face flushed with frustration. Beside her were three companions: Lady Serina, a scholar of diplomacy; Sir Edric, a knight with a deep aversion to unnecessary bloodshed; and Fenril, a tactician known for his sharp tongue and sharper intellect.

Polpe’s brows furrowed as he fixed his youngest with an icy stare. “Mind your tone, Ardila. You forget yourself in the presence of your king.”

Ardila stepped forward, her voice steady despite the growing tension. “I speak as your daughter, not your subject. Sending an army to greet the unknown is not a show of strength; it is a show of arrogance. You risk offending powers we do not understand!”

“And what would you have me do?” Polpe’s voice was laced with disdain. “Send a handful of courtiers with empty words and soft gestures? Let the other side believe us weak and indecisive?”

“It is not weakness to seek understanding,” Ardila retorted. “A diplomatic envoy would show wisdom, as Rindira herself would advise. Barging through with swords and banners will only invite hostility!”

The room tensed as Ardila’s words hung in the air. Prince Orad’s laughter broke the silence. “Ah, little sister, always so naïve. Do you think diplomacy will impress the gods? Or whatever waits beyond that portal? Strength is the only language that matters.”

“Enough!” Polpe’s voice thundered through the hall. He turned to Ardila, his expression hard. “You will hold your tongue and remember your place. You are not a general, nor a diplomat. You are a princess, and your duty is to support your kingdom, not undermine it with foolish doubts.”

Ardila’s lips tightened, her frustration boiling over. “You are a fool, Father. A blind, arrogant fool who will lead us to ruin!”

The court gasped as the words left her mouth. Polpe’s face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Leave,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Before I forget you are my blood.”

Ardila didn’t wait to be dismissed. She turned sharply on her heel, her companions following close behind. As they reached the grand doors of the hall, she cast one last glance over her shoulder. “Mark my words, Father. You will regret this.”

The doors slammed shut behind her, leaving the court in uneasy silence.

Polpe exhaled sharply, turning to his generals. “Enough of these distractions. You have your orders. I want the army ready to march in three days. Make it clear to every soldier that this is a divine mission, sanctioned by the gods themselves. Their loyalty and valor will bring glory to Helvetia.”

One of the generals, a grizzled veteran named Haldric, saluted crisply. “It will be done, Your Majesty. The banners of Helvetia will be the first to greet whatever lies beyond that portal.”

“Good,” Polpe said, his voice regaining its edge of confidence. “And remind them: there is no retreat. We march to expand our kingdom, to claim what is rightfully ours. Let the gods witness our strength and favor us in battle.”

The generals bowed and exited the hall, leaving Polpe to bask in the support of his court. Orad and Kensa approached their father, pride evident in their expressions.

“Do not trouble yourself with Ardila’s outburst,” Kensa said. “She will come around once she sees the glory of our conquest.”

Polpe smirked. “She is young and headstrong. She will learn her place soon enough.”

As the court began to disperse, the king’s thoughts turned to the portal itself. Somewhere beyond its shimmering veil lay an unknown world—one that would soon know the might of Helvetia.

3

In the year 3260, the Federation of United Earth (FUE) stood as humanity's crowning achievement. A unified, singular supernation born from centuries of strife, FUE had weathered seven Galactic Wars against alien races of unimaginable power and cunning. From the swarming Kronens of the First Galactic War to the mechanical precision of the Maykers, and finally the coalition of dozens of alien empires during the Seventh, humanity had emerged victorious. Each victory had been hard-fought, each war a crucible that tempered the Federation into an unyielding machine of survival, innovation, and conquest.

The Federation’s victories came at the cost of their individuality, their traditions, and their past. Religion, nationalism, and even cultural differences were abolished in the 22nd century to prevent the fractures that had once threatened humanity’s survival. What emerged was a species singular in its purpose: to dominate and thrive. Every starship, every soldier, every law served the singular ideal of human supremacy.

Now, with peace reigning for over fifty years, Earth Three—formerly Kepler-452b—was the jewel of humanity’s interstellar colonies. Its skies were filled with orbiting battlecarriers, its surface dotted with sprawling megacities and military installations. The Federation believed itself prepared for anything. What they could not prepare for, however, was the portal.

The night sky above Fort Strong, a sprawling military base in the state of New California, was clear and calm. The air was crisp with the chill of winter, though snow was an impossibility on Earth Three’s terraformed surface. The base’s guardsmen maintained their usual patrols, their exosuits casting faint glows in the dim light of the runway. Christmas night was never quiet—soldiers gathered in barracks, sharing synthetic whiskey and half-hearted toasts to a holiday that held no cultural significance in the 33rd century.

That peace shattered at 23:47.

It began with a tremor, faint but unmistakable, rippling through the south side of the base just beyond the runway. Sensors in the control tower lit up with warnings of seismic anomalies, and the automated monitoring systems flagged the activity as non-geological. Within seconds, every alarm across the base roared to life.

“Command, this is Tower Control,” came a sharp voice over the comms. “We’ve got a Category Red anomaly, coordinates south-southeast, just past the outer perimeter.”

Inside the base, the response was immediate. The UASV silos rumbled open, their steel hatches sliding away as OD-11 Shepherd drones launched into the night sky with precision, their multi-purpose coilguns primed. On the ground, Flammen-class Main Battle Tanks rolled out of their hangars, flanked by M505 Armored Personnel Carriers carrying squads of FUE infantry and combat androids.

From the command tower, Base Commander Marshal Devic watched the screens with a grim expression. “Shut the lights,” he ordered, his voice cold and decisive.

“Sir?” a subordinate asked.

“I said shut the lights. Total blackout. I want them to walk into darkness.”

The floodlights that lined the runway blinked out, plunging the south side of the base into an oppressive shadow. Soldiers and machines moved into position in silence, their IR sensors scanning the landscape as the tremors grew stronger.

At precisely 23:59, the portal appeared.

A swirling vortex of blue and red energy erupted into existence, crackling with raw power. Sensors went wild, the readings spiking off the charts. Its surface shimmered like liquid fire, casting an eerie glow across the landscape.

From within, the first figures emerged: soldiers clad in shining armor, their shields reflecting the flickering light of the portal. Behind them came rank upon rank of spearmen, swordsmen, archers, and flag bearers, all marching in perfect formation. Above, wyvern riders soared through the vortex, their mounts snarling and snapping at the air. At the rear, robed figures—battle mages and clerics—chanted incantations, their staffs glowing faintly with magic.

“By the gods, we march for Helvetia!” shouted one of the flag bearers. “For King Polpe!”

A deafening roar erupted from the ranks, their voices filled with fervor and purpose. The Helvetian army advanced, their numbers swelling to a hundred thousand as they poured through the portal like a flood.

In the darkness of the base, the FUE soldiers waited in silence, their weapons trained on the advancing force.

“Commander,” came a calm voice from the comms. “They’re unarmed by our standards—swords and shields. Orders?”

Marshal Devic watched the scene unfold on his monitor, his lips pressed into a thin line. He saw no hesitation in the enemy’s advance, no indication of diplomacy. Only numbers.

“Turn the lights on,” he said coldly. “And open fire.”

The floodlights roared to life, illuminating the advancing army in a blaze of white. The sudden brightness blinded the Helvetian soldiers, their shields raised in confusion as they stumbled forward.

“Fire.”

The night erupted into chaos.

Railgun rounds screamed through the air, their hypersonic velocity tearing through shields and armor like paper. The first volley hit the front lines with devastating precision, the impact of each round vaporizing limbs, pulverizing torsos, and leaving crimson mist in its wake. Soldiers crumpled where they stood, their bodies reduced to mangled heaps before they even registered the attack.

A wyvern rider swooped low, its mount screeching as it prepared to unleash a torrent of flame. A UASV’s automated coilgun tracked the movement, its high-caliber rounds shredding the creature’s wings and body. The rider and beast crashed to the ground in a fiery explosion, their remains scattering across the battlefield.

Screams filled the air as the Helvetians realized the futility of their charge. Arrows were loosened blindly, falling short or clattering harmlessly against the armored vehicles. Battle mages attempted to hurl fireballs, only for laser defense systems to intercept and vaporize the projectiles mid-air.

The slaughter continued without pause. Railgun rounds detonated inside clustered formations, turning soldiers into fountains of gore. Combat androids advanced methodically, their coilguns mowing down anything that moved. Flammen tanks unleashed their railguns on larger targets, their blasts obliterating entire groups of soldiers in a single shot.

Within 39.96 seconds, it was over, barely making it to the 40th second.

The battlefield fell silent, the only sounds the hum of FUE machines and the distant crackle of fire. The ground was littered with the dead, their bodies broken and unrecognizable. The portal remained open, its glow casting an eerie light over the carnage.

Marshal Devic stood in the command tower, staring at the scene on his monitor. His face was expressionless, his mind already shifting to protocol.

He turned to his console, his fingers moving swiftly across the keys.

To: High Command

Subject: URGENT—Portal Incident at Fort Strong

Priority Level: Maximum

At 23:59 local time, an unidentified portal opened south of Fort Strong. Approximately 100,000 armed humanoids emerged, exhibiting pre-industrial weaponry and limited magical capabilities. Assumed hostile. Full eradication achieved in 39.96 seconds. No survivors. Request immediate emergency summit to address interdimensional threat. Response needed within 24 hours.

Marshal Devic hit send and leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the portal still shimmering on the screen. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with irony.

*  

The grand chamber of the Federation of United Earth High Command, located deep within the fortified megacity of Apex Prime on Earth One, was a monument to humanity’s indomitable will. Towering columns of polished obsidian framed the room, while the walls bore holo-displays cycling through images of FUE’s victories in the Galactic Wars. The centerpiece was a circular table of reinforced alloy, surrounded by the most powerful figures in the Federation: admirals, generals, directors of intelligence, ministers of state, and other key officials.

Each individual wore the crisp, spotless uniform of their station, their medals gleaming under the artificial lighting. Above them, a massive holo-projector displayed the still-open portal at Fort Strong, its swirling energies casting an ominous glow across the room.

At the head of the table stood Grand Marshal Adrian Vex, the supreme commander of FUE’s military forces. His presence radiated authority, his sharp eyes scanning the room as the assembled leaders took their seats.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Vex began, his voice steady and resonant, “we are here tonight to address what is, without exaggeration, the most significant event in the Federation’s history since the conclusion of the Seventh Galactic War.”

Marshal Devic, the Base Commander of Fort Strong, stood before the table, his posture rigid, his uniform immaculate. Beside him was Officer Trell, the young sensor technician who had first detected the anomaly.

“Marshal Devic,” Vex said, gesturing for him to begin, “you were the first to witness this incursion. State your report.”

Devic nodded. “At 23:47, our seismic sensors detected unusual tremors south of the base. Initially flagged as an anomaly, the readings quickly escalated to what we classified as a Category Red event. At 23:59, the portal opened approximately 200 meters beyond the southern perimeter. Moments later, humanoid entities began pouring through—armored, armed with medieval weaponry, and shouting phrases in an unknown language.”

The holo-display shifted, showing grainy night-vision footage of the Helvetian soldiers emerging from the portal, their banners waving, wyverns circling overhead. The room murmured as the scene played out, the sheer numbers of the enemy evident even in the incomplete footage.

“And your response?” Vex prompted.

“I ordered the base into total blackout,” Devic replied without hesitation. “We deployed UASVs, MBTs, and APCs to establish a defensive perimeter. Once it became clear their intent was hostile—indicated by their overwhelming numbers and aggressive posture—I authorized the use of force.”

Officer Trell, standing nervously beside him, interjected, “Sir, if I may add—these were not trained invaders by our standards. Their weapons and tactics were… primitive. Swords, shields, bows. They stood no chance.”

“Primitive, yes,” Devic agreed, “but their numbers suggested an invasion attempt. I made the decision to protect my base and my soldiers. The engagement lasted 39.96 seconds. Zero survivors.”

A pause followed, broken only by the faint hum of the holo-projector. Then Admiral Kessler, head of the Fleet Operations Command, spoke, his tone dripping with pride. “Annihilated in under forty seconds. Impressive, Commander. You and your men have proven once again why the Federation reigns supreme.”

Others at the table nodded in agreement, though some maintained a reserved skepticism.

Minister of Foreign Affairs Callen raised a hand. “Before we rush to action, let us consider: was this truly an act of war? Could this have been a misunderstanding? A cultural misstep?”

Admiral Dreyfus scoffed. “Misunderstanding? A force of one hundred thousand armed soldiers comes through a portal and charges at our base, shouting the name of some king? That is not diplomacy—it’s a threat.”

Director Minara of the Intelligence Division leaned forward, her voice calm but firm. “I agree with the admiral. The sheer numbers indicate premeditation. No envoy, no attempt at communication, only a direct military advance. This was a declaration of war, whether intentional or not.”

The room filled with murmurs, voices rising as arguments broke out. Some called for immediate retaliation, others for caution. Vex allowed it to continue for several minutes before raising his hand. The room fell silent.

“This portal represents more than an isolated event,” Vex said. “It is an intrusion into Federation territory and a breach of our sovereignty. Whether these invaders understand our laws or not is irrelevant. We must respond with the full might of the Federation.”

General Takara of the Ground Forces Command spoke next, her tone laced with confidence. “I propose we enact a full-scale operation. We send a vanguard force through the portal to establish a foothold and assess the threat on the other side. If these primitives wish to test us, let them face the consequences.”

“What of the portal itself?” asked Director Minara. “Its origin, its mechanics—these are questions we must answer. For all we know, this could be a gateway to something far greater than what we’ve seen.”

“We will study the portal once we secure the other side,” Vex replied. “Science will follow strategy.”

After hours of heated discussion, the consensus was clear. The Federation would not tolerate such a breach, no matter how underwhelming the enemy’s technology.

“All in favor of enacting a full-scale response, codename Operation Stormfront?” Vex asked.

One by one, the hands around the table rose, a near-unanimous agreement.

“It is decided,” Vex said, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “Operation Stormfront will commence immediately. The first wave will consist of Order-class destroyers, Law-class cruisers, then almighty Justice-class battleships and the most important of them all, the Freedom-class battlecarriers and lastly followed by our supporting ground forces. Our objective is to establish a beachhead and neutralize all hostilities on the other side of the portal. This is not merely a military operation—it is a demonstration of Federation supremacy.”

The room buzzed with approval.

Vex turned to a stenographer seated at a side console. “Draft a report for immediate broadcast. I want every citizen of the Federation to hear this. Operation Stormfront is humanity’s response to a direct threat to our existence. Frame it as an opportunity for every citizen to contribute. Announce incentives: a two-rank promotion for military volunteers, triple pensions for service, and social safety benefits for civilians who donate to the war effort.”

He paused, his gaze sharp. “Ensure this airs on all channels from 6 a.m. to 11 a.m. I want the entire Federation united behind this campaign.”

The stenographer nodded and began typing furiously as Vex addressed the room one final time.

“Ladies and gentlemen, humanity has faced the unknown before. We have conquered it every time. This portal will be no different. Dismissed.”

As the leaders rose and filed out of the chamber, the holo-display lingered on the swirling portal, a gateway to another world—a world that would soon know the full power of the Federation of United Earth.

4

The bustling café near Fort Strong was alive with the morning rush, its sleek, modern interior filled with the hum of conversation and the hiss of automated coffee machines. Holo-TVs mounted on the walls broadcast the morning news, their screens dominated by the Federation of United Earth emblem. The latest reports on Operation Stormfront cycled through, accompanied by triumphant orchestral music that underscored the Federation’s overwhelming power.

At a corner table by the window, three high school seniors sat nursing cups of coffee, their chatter low but charged with energy.

“Unreal,” muttered Brad Grapeson, his gaze fixed on the holo-TV. His muscular build and athletic stance marked him as the school’s star runner, but right now, all his focus was on the scenes of last night’s battle. “Fort Strong barely broke a sweat. Did you see those railgun rounds? Total annihilation in, what, forty seconds?”

“Thirty-nine-point-nine-six, to be exact,” Michelle Smith corrected, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She was the group’s unofficial brains, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued. Her voice carried a note of admiration as she added, “That’s precision warfare for you. Makes me wish I was out there already.”

“You serious?” asked Jackson June, leaning back in his chair. He was lanky and easygoing, always quick with a grin. “I mean, yeah, it’s cool and all, but are you really thinking about enlisting? This isn’t like signing up for a sports team.”

Michelle shot him a look. “Of course I’m serious. You saw the incentives, right? Two-rank promotions for military volunteers, triple pensions. Plus, think about what it’d mean for our families. We come from Seventh Galactic War veteran stock, Jackson. Joining up isn’t just an opportunity—it’s tradition.”

Brad nodded in agreement, his voice steady. “Yeah, my granddad fought in the Seventh. Still has his old exosuit in the garage. He says serving in the Federation was the best thing he ever did. Built everything we have now. Maybe it’s time we carried the torch.”

Jackson hesitated, glancing back at the holo-TV. The footage of Helvetian soldiers charging through the portal replayed, followed by the devastating response from Fort Strong’s defenses. The sheer disparity in power was staggering. He took a sip of his coffee, as if trying to mask his uncertainty.

“It’s just… this isn’t a game, you know?” he said, his tone quieter now. “Once you go through that portal, there’s no guarantee you’re coming back.”

Michelle leaned forward, her voice firm. “No guarantee? Jackson, have you been paying attention? The Federation doesn’t lose. Not to aliens, and definitely not to a bunch of medieval wannabes with swords and shields. This is the safest war anyone could fight.”

“Besides,” Brad added with a smirk, “you’re just scared I’ll outscore you on the battlefield too.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. If I go, I’ll be the one saving your ass when you get yourself surrounded.”

Michelle grinned, sensing his resolve wavering. “So, you’re in?”

Jackson hesitated for only a moment longer before sighing. “Yeah, I’m in. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it now. No sitting around second-guessing.”

Michelle drained the last of her coffee and slapped the cup down on the table. “Agreed. Let’s make it official.”

Brad pushed back his chair, already reaching for his jacket. “What’s the plan? We run straight to Fort Strong and sign up before we change our minds?”

“Exactly,” Michelle said, standing and tossing a few credits onto the table for their drinks. Her grin widened as an idea struck her. “And here’s the deal: last one there buys coffee the next time we’re back on Earth Three.”

“You’re on,” Brad said, his competitive streak kicking in immediately.

Jackson groaned, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Fine, but when you’re both broke from buying me coffee, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Without another word, the three burst out of the café, laughter trailing behind them as they sprinted down the street. The morning sun glinted off the sleek buildings and glowed faintly on the distant horizon, where Fort Strong’s towering walls loomed like a symbol of the Federation’s unshakable might.

Above them, automated transports zipped along elevated highways, and towering holographic advertisements proclaimed the glory of Operation Stormfront.

In the distance, the unmistakable form of Fort Strong stood as a beacon of power and purpose, the final destination of three teenagers ready to follow in the footsteps of their ancestors.

*  

The sound of clinking mugs and low chatter filled the cozy interior of the neighborhood diner as Tom Softis sat at a booth near the window, scrolling through his tablet. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead as his brow furrowed in focus. On the screen, a bold headline read:

"Operation Stormfront Declared! The Federation Responds to Portal Threat with Unmatched Power"

The accompanying images of the Helvetian forces being obliterated in mere seconds played in a loop, interspersed with commentary about the incentives for enlistment. Tom’s finger hovered over the “Volunteer Now” link embedded in the article as he gnawed at his lower lip in thought.

Across the table, Kevin Ashton drained the last of his soda, his engineering textbooks spread haphazardly around him. He was lanky but broad-shouldered, his disheveled look offset by the constant spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“Earth to Tom,” Kevin said, waving a hand in front of his friend’s face. “You’ve been staring at that thing for ten minutes. Either sign up for whatever it is, or let me eat in peace.”

Tom glanced up, then grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I was, uh, reading about Operation Stormfront.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Stormfront? The portal thing? You’re not seriously thinking about enlisting, are you?”

Tom hesitated, then flipped his tablet around to show Kevin the article. “I mean… yeah, kinda. It’s a big deal, Kev. Once-in-a-lifetime stuff.”

Kevin snorted. “Right. Because joining the military to fight medieval knights and fire-breathing lizards screams ‘big deal.’”

Tom smirked. “You’re assuming there’ll actually be dragons. But hey, what if there are?”

“Then I’m signing up for a welding class,” Kevin quipped. “I’m not going into a warzone to joust with Smaug.”

Kevin reached for a fry from his plate, but his eyes flicked to Tom’s tablet, where the screen had reverted to the wallpaper: a picture of Nicole Herald. She was laughing in the shot, her hair tied back, her face flushed from running around with her dogs.

Kevin froze mid-bite, a mischievous grin creeping across his face. “Oh, now I get it.”

Tom quickly snatched the tablet away, his cheeks reddening. “Get what?”

Kevin pointed at the screen, leaning across the table. “Isn’t that Nicole? Nicole Herald? The same Nicole we went to kindergarten with? The same Nicole you’ve had a hopeless crush on since, like, forever?”

Tom groaned, trying to shove the tablet into his bag, but Kevin lunged for it. They wrestled for a moment, causing the tablet to fall back onto the table, the wallpaper now in full view.

“I knew it!” Kevin laughed, slapping the table triumphantly. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”

Tom sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Yeah, it’s Nicole. So what?”

Kevin leaned back, grinning. “So that’s why you want to enlist. You’re hoping to impress her with your shiny new uniform, huh?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, it’s totally like that.” Kevin crossed his arms, still smirking. “So what’s the plan? You join up, save the galaxy, and ride back home on a dragon to sweep her off her feet?”

Tom laughed despite himself. “Shut up. Look, I just think she’s… really cool, okay? And pretty. And smart. And—”

“—way out of your league?” Kevin finished, ducking as Tom swatted at him.

“C’mon, Kev,” Tom said, grinning now. “Help a brother out. Be my wingman.”

Kevin pretended to consider it, tapping his chin theatrically. “Hmm… I don’t know. I mean, what’s in it for me? I’m not exactly combat material.”

Tom leaned forward, his tone mock-serious. “First of all, there’s no one I’d rather have watching my back in the field. Second, the Federation pays triple pensions if we survive. Third…”

“Third?” Kevin prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Tom smirked. “You might get to shoot at an actual dragon.”

Kevin burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Fine, you win. Let’s go sign up and see if they hand out dragon-hunting licenses.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Tom asked, his grin widening.

Kevin shrugged. “Why not? Worst case, I end up working on the engines of some giant starship instead of fighting. Best case, we end up fighting mythical beasts, and I get to call myself a dragon slayer. Win-win.”

Tom grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The two walked out of the diner into the bright morning sunlight. As they approached Tom’s car, Kevin broke the silence with a grin. “There better be real dragons on the other side of that portal, though. Otherwise, I’m asking for a refund.”

Tom laughed, slapping the back of Kevin’s head. “Yeah, sure. You planning to pick up a machine gun and gun them down, or what?”

Kevin cupped his chin, pretending to consider. “Actually, being a heavy machine gunner sounds fun. Call me Antizilla when we’re deployed.”

Tom shook his head, chuckling. “You’re unbelievable.”

The two climbed into Tom’s car, the engine humming to life as they pulled out of the parking lot. The morning sky stretched wide above them, and the distant silhouette of Fort Strong loomed on the horizon.

For Tom, it was the beginning of a grand plan—one he hoped would bring him closer to Nicole. For Kevin, it was the start of an adventure, fueled by equal parts curiosity and mischief.

And for both of them, it was a step into the unknown, toward a world that neither of them could yet imagine.

*  

The soft golden light of morning spilled into the backyard of the Herald residence, nestled in the suburban sprawl of southern New California. The yard was a small oasis, dotted with manicured grass, vibrant flowers, and a modest patio where Nicole Herald knelt, laughing as two dogs bounded around her. One was a sleek black shepherd, the other a stocky, energetic mutt.

“Good girl, Delta! Fetch!” Nicole called, tossing a ball across the yard. The shepherd darted after it, tail wagging furiously.

Nicole, a bright-eyed young woman with a sharp mind and an even sharper wit, was dressed in a simple hoodie and shorts. Though still in her final semester of medical school, she had spent the holidays at home to unwind, hoping for a momentary reprieve from the pressure of exams and clinical rotations.

Her reprieve was interrupted by the sharp chime of the holo-TV activating inside the house.

“Delta, Max, come on!” Nicole called, heading back inside with the dogs trotting behind her.

Inside the living room, the holo-TV flickered to life, its projected screen occupying the central wall. The Federation of United Earth emblem dominated the display for a moment before fading into a rousing orchestral anthem. The news anchor’s voice carried the unmistakable air of urgency and pride.

“Good morning, citizens of the Federation of United Earth. This is Evelyn Carrington, bringing you breaking news regarding the most significant military operation in recent history: Operation Stormfront.”

Nicole sank into the couch, eyes fixed on the broadcast as the holo-display shifted to grainy footage of the night before.

“Last night, at 23:59 local time, an unprecedented event occurred at Fort Strong, New California. A portal of unknown origin opened, bringing with it a force of over one hundred thousand hostile combatants.”

The footage changed to a night-vision recording of Helvetian soldiers pouring through the portal, their banners visible even in the darkness.

“What in the world…” Nicole muttered, leaning forward.

Just then, her older brother Josh entered the room, a plate of toast in one hand. He was tall, lean, and still fresh-faced despite having recently completed his basic training. “What’s going on?” he asked, noticing Nicole’s transfixed expression.

“Look at this,” Nicole said, pointing at the screen. “Fort Strong got attacked last night by… knights? Medieval knights?”

Josh set his plate down, his curiosity piqued. He took a seat beside her just as the broadcast transitioned to the battle footage.

The footage shifted to thermal imaging, showing the moment the floodlights illuminated the Helvetian forces. The announcer narrated with solemn pride.

“In response to the unprecedented breach, Base Commander Marshal Devic authorized an immediate counterattack. What followed was an unparalleled display of Federation precision and power.”

The video played out in chilling detail: UASVs hovering in perfect formation, unleashing streams of fire from their coilguns; railgun rounds obliterating lines of advancing soldiers, their bodies reduced to unrecognizable smears; wyvern riders falling from the sky in flaming heaps.

Josh let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t even give them a chance to scream.”

Nicole winced slightly but couldn’t look away. The sheer efficiency of the Federation’s response was horrifying and mesmerizing at once.

The footage ended, the display returning to Evelyn Carrington’s confident smile. “Citizens, this decisive response has led to the immediate approval of Operation Stormfront, an initiative to take the fight to the other side of the portal. The Federation calls on all willing veterans and new enlistees to join this historic mission. Remember, those who enlist or contribute will be heroes of humanity’s continued legacy.”

Before Nicole could process what she’d seen, the sound of the front door opening drew her attention. Linda Herald stepped inside, her officer’s uniform sharp and her stride purposeful. At 28 years old, Linda carried herself with the discipline and authority of a Federation officer, her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun.

“What’s this all about?” she asked, glancing at the holo-TV.

Nicole gestured toward the screen. “Fort Strong got attacked last night. Knights from a portal or something. Now they’re asking for recruits for some big mission called Operation Stormfront.”

Linda’s eyes narrowed as she absorbed the broadcast. Her lips curved into a small, determined smile. “Well, I’ll be damned. A two-rank promotion for officers who join? That’s Captain Herald to you, then.”

Nicole looked up at her sister, her eyes wide with excitement. “Do you think I could enlist?”

Linda paused, then nodded approvingly. “Absolutely. No profession is more respected in the Federation than the military. You’d go in as a combat medic, probably graduate out of your training into an officer role in no time.”

Nicole turned to Josh, her enthusiasm contagious. “What about you, Josh? You’re already enlisted. Shouldn’t you take some extra training before they deploy you?”

Josh shrugged, still watching the holo-TV. “Guess I could sign up for an advanced rifle course or something. Might as well be ready if I’m going into the field.”

Linda clapped her hands, her voice sharp and commanding. “Alright, enough talk. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it now. Nicole, grab your ID. Josh, get your kit. I’ll drive.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Nicole and Josh scrambled to obey as Linda grabbed her keychip from the counter. She motioned for them to follow, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“Double time! Let’s go!”

The car hummed as Linda guided it onto the sleek underground speedway. The tunnel was a marvel of Federation engineering, its walls lined with glowing blue guide lights that stretched into the distance. Above the tunnel’s entrance, a digital sign displayed the distances:

NEW CALIFORNIA: 60 MILES

FORT STRONG: 63 MILES

As the car descended into the vast expanse of the speedway, Nicole sat in the backseat, gripping her holo-tablet as she scrolled through enlistment forms. Josh adjusted his jacket in the passenger seat, while Linda’s eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, her expression resolute.

The Heralds were on their way—not just to Fort Strong, but to the heart of the Federation’s newest and most ambitious campaign.

5

The enlistment area of Fort Strong was a cacophony of movement and sound. Rows of makeshift kiosks, holographic displays, and automated registration stations stretched across the massive hall. A constant hum of activity filled the air as thousands of people—from eager young graduates to seasoned veterans—jostled for position. Federation recruitment officers barked orders, directing the growing lines of recruits toward medical checkups, aptitude tests, and preliminary paperwork.

The Federation of United Earth propaganda had done its job well. The promise of glory, duty, and rewards had drawn countless volunteers, all ready to step through the portal to another world.

Among the throng of recruits, Michelle Smith, Brad Grapeson, and Jackson June found themselves standing together in a long line near the registration kiosks.

“This is insane,” Brad muttered, craning his neck to look ahead. “It’s like half of New California decided to show up.”

“You expected anything less?” Michelle asked, crossing her arms. “The Federation practically gift-wrapped this for us. Serve your country, get promotions, and be heroes. What’s not to like?”

Jackson shrugged. “I’m just here for the free coffee when I win our bet.”

Brad rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smirk. As they chatted, a familiar voice called out to a group nearby.

“Hey, isn’t that Josh Herald?” Michelle asked, nodding toward a tall figure standing with two others.

It was indeed Josh, standing with his sister Nicole and their eldest sibling, Linda. Josh spotted them as well, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. He gave a slight wave, prompting the trio to walk over.

“Well, if it isn’t Herald the elder,” Brad teased. “Didn’t think we’d see you here.”

Josh chuckled. “Didn’t think I’d see you guys either. What are you doing here?”

Michelle shot him a flat look. “What do you think? We’re here to join up. Operation Stormfront.”

Linda, who had been listening quietly, let out a soft chuckle. “You three? Joining the Federation military? That’s cute.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Cute? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Relax,” Linda said, waving a hand. “It’s just funny. You don’t exactly look like the gung-ho soldier types. No offense.”

Brad crossed his arms. “None taken. We’ll just have to prove you wrong, Captain.”

“Second Lieutenant,” Linda corrected, though her smirk suggested she didn’t mind the promotion they both knew was imminent.

A few minutes later, the line shuffled forward, bringing Tom Softis and Kevin Ashton into the same section. Tom was already feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, but that was nothing compared to the nervous jolt he felt when he spotted Nicole.

She hadn’t changed much since kindergarten—still bright-eyed and full of energy. She stood laughing with her siblings and a few others he vaguely recognized. Kevin noticed his friend’s sudden discomfort and followed his gaze.

“Well, well,” Kevin said, grinning mischievously. “Isn’t that Nicole Herald?”

Tom fidgeted. “Yeah, uh… it is.”

Before Tom could stop him, Kevin cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hey, Nicole! Tom has something he wants to tell you!”

Nicole turned, her face lighting up with recognition. “Tom Softis? Oh my gosh, it’s been forever!”

Tom froze, his brain scrambling for words. “Uh, y-yeah, hi! Wow, uh, you… you look… the same!”

Kevin let out a loud cackle, clapping a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Smooth, buddy. Real smooth.”

Josh, who had been watching the exchange quietly, narrowed his eyes at Tom. Something clicked in his memory—a boy in kindergarten who had always trailed after Nicole, awkward and shy. He leaned over to Linda and whispered, “That guy? He’s the one who’s liked Nicole since we were kids.”

Linda raised an eyebrow, glancing between Tom and Nicole. “Seriously? Straight out of a TV drama.” She sighed but smiled faintly. “This is going to be fun.”

Nicole, oblivious to her siblings’ comments, smiled warmly at Tom. “So, what brings you here? Don’t tell me you’re joining Operation Stormfront too?”

Tom swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. “Uh, yeah. I mean… of course. I’m a citizen of the Federation. When my country calls for arms, I answer. It’s, uh, my duty.”

Nicole’s eyebrows raised slightly, her expression impressed. “Wow. That’s a great answer.”

“Yeah, great,” Kevin added sarcastically, nudging Tom with his elbow. “Totally not rehearsed or anything.”

Tom shot Kevin a glare, his cheeks flushing.

Linda leaned closer to Josh, whispering, “If this turns into some kind of American Pie subplot during bootcamp, I swear to God…”

Josh smirked. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. But hey, credit where it’s due—he’s trying.”

Nicole, still smiling, asked, “So, what about you, Kevin? Why are you enlisting?”

Kevin grinned and spread his arms dramatically. “Two words: dragon slayer.”

Nicole laughed, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love it,” Kevin replied, winking at Tom, who just groaned in exasperation.

As the line moved again, the group began splitting up, each heading to their respective kiosks for registration. Linda patted Tom on the back as she walked by.

“Good luck, soldier,” she said with a smirk. “You’re going to need it.”

Tom watched her go, his nerves still buzzing, but his determination growing stronger. Whatever it took, he was ready for what came next.

Nearby, Kevin adjusted his jacket and gave Tom a sly grin. “So, Heavy Machine Gunner Ashton reporting for duty. Just call me Antizilla when the dragons show up, alright?”

Tom sighed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Kevin laughed. “Yeah, but you’re stuck with me.”

The two friends stepped forward, their enlistment just moments away. The distant hum of Fort Strong’s defenses and the low murmur of recruits filled the air—a symphony of preparation for the storm that was about to unfold.

*  

As Linda stepped up to accompany Nicole through the enlistment process, a sharp-eyed recruiter sergeant manning one of the kiosks snapped to attention. His uniform was pristine, his gaze sharp and professional as he looked Linda over.

“Name?” he barked.

Linda raised an eyebrow, amused. “I’m not here to enlist, Sergeant.”

The sergeant tilted his head. “Everyone’s here to enlist, ma’am. Don’t try to pull one over on me.”

Linda smirked and reached into her pocket, pulling out her military ID. She handed it over, her voice calm but firm. “Second Lieutenant Linda Herald, ID 2245-889-L. Already enlisted. I’m just here to accompany my sister through the process.”

The sergeant’s demeanor shifted instantly. His back straightened, and he saluted crisply. “Apologies, ma’am. Didn’t realize you were already in. Are you here as part of the deployment effort for Operation Stormfront?”

Linda returned the salute with a nod. “I am. I’ll be with the first spearhead.”

The sergeant’s eyes lit up with admiration. “First spearhead? That’s an honor, ma’am. Best of luck out there. We’re counting on you to lead the way.”

“Thanks, Sergeant,” Linda said, taking back her ID and stepping aside as Nicole moved forward to the kiosk.

As the group reconvened near the registration area, Nicole, now clutching her freshly printed enlistment papers, turned to her older sister with a look of curiosity.

“What’s the first spearhead?” she asked.

Linda crossed her arms, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “The first spearhead is exactly what it sounds like. It’s the first wave of soldiers to breach through the portal on landing day. Our job is to secure the area and establish the Federation’s first stronghold on the other side.”

Josh, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “So you’re going to be one of the first through? What kind of stronghold are we talking about?”

Linda shrugged. “There are three proposed names for the operation’s first base. Fort Academia, Fort Independent, and Fort Liberty. Personally, my money’s on Liberty—it’s the kind of symbolism the Federation loves.”

Nicole’s expression turned serious. “So, you’re saying you’ll be the first to go through the portal, while the rest of us…”

Linda nodded, cutting her off. “Exactly. Josh, you’ll be part of the second spearhead. As a Staff Sergeant, your unit will go in once we’ve secured the area and set up a perimeter.”

“And what about us?” Michelle chimed in, gesturing toward herself and the other fresh recruits.

“You’ll be in the third spearhead,” Linda replied. “That’s when it’s safe enough for bulk deployment. By then, the stronghold will be operational, and the first and second spearheads will have neutralized any immediate threats.”

Kevin groaned dramatically, slumping against the nearby railing. “So, what you’re telling me is I won’t get to slay any dragons on day one?”

Linda smirked. “Unless you plan on sneaking through the portal ahead of schedule, you’re going to have to wait your turn, Antizilla.”

Josh chuckled, nudging Kevin. “Hey, maybe the dragons will still be around when you get there. You know, assuming we haven’t already turned them into barbecue.”

Kevin cupped his chin, his voice thoughtful. “Dragon barbecue. Now there’s a thought. Guess I’ll just have to settle for cleaning up after you guys. But when my time comes, you’re all going to call me the Federation’s greatest dragon slayer. Deal?”

Nicole rolled her eyes, laughing. “Deal, Kevin.”

As the sun began to set over Fort Strong, the group made their way back to the parking lot, their footsteps echoing faintly against the concrete. The distant hum of transports and the rhythmic clank of tanks being loaded onto freighters filled the air, a reminder of the monumental operation being prepared.

The Heralds, along with their friends, piled into their respective vehicles, the mood both light and charged with anticipation.

Linda leaned back in her seat, glancing at the glowing dashboard as Josh started the car. “Well, here we go,” she said with a faint smile. “Get some rest, everyone. The 29th is coming fast, and we’re going to need all the energy we can get.”

As the vehicles pulled out of the lot, the camera lingered on the skyline of Fort Strong. The sprawling base glimmered with activity, its every corner alive with preparations for war. Above it all, the faint shimmer of the portal still hung in the air—a gateway to the unknown, and to the destiny of all who had chosen to answer the Federation’s call.

6

December 29th, 0300 HRS

Operation Stormfront – Spear Insertion

The sprawling military base at Fort Strong had transformed into a theater of relentless activity. Under the pale glow of floodlights, the relentless hum of engines, the clanking of armored treads, and the barking of orders filled the air as thousands of M505 Armored Personnel Carriers and Flammen-class Main Battle Tanks moved in synchronized precision.

Each vehicle, from the compact APCs to the hulking MBTs, was loaded with meticulously trained soldiers of the Federation of United Earth. The relentless efficiency of the operation reflected the hardened discipline of a nation forged through centuries of war.

Massive ramps extended from the yawning cargo bays of the ships stationed on the ground, the sleek hulls of destroyers, cruisers, battleships, and battlecarriers looming above like metallic monoliths.

The Order-class destroyers, Law-class cruisers, Justice-class battleships, and Freedom-class battlecarriers stood ready to receive their precious cargo—both the machines of war and the human soldiers they carried.

Each M505 APC, compact and bristling with firepower, carried six soldiers within its reinforced hull. Inside, the troops sat in silence, their exosuits polished to a near-reflective sheen, their weapons secured but ready.

Beside them, the larger Flammen-class MBTs rumbled forward, their railguns mounted and primed. This was not a drill. Every soldier knew that once the gates of the portal swallowed them, there would be no retreat—only the objective ahead.

The meticulous movements of the vehicles mirrored the clarity of the plan: Operation Stormfront demanded nothing less than absolute precision. The spearhead forces were split into two waves, their strategies distinct but complementary.

The first spearhead, consisting of 725 destroyers and 125 cruisers, carried seasoned officers—hardened veterans of past campaigns who had proven their resolve in the brutal crucibles of the Galactic Wars. Their task was simple in concept but monumental in scale: establish the landing zone and break the enemy's first line of defense.

As the ground vehicles continued their deliberate crawl up the ramps, the ships’ internal systems buzzed to life. Automated cranes locked down the APCs and MBTs into their designated positions, securing them for the upcoming launch.

The destroyers and cruisers, designed for speed and devastating firepower, thrummed with barely contained energy. The first spearhead would engage in two distinct phases. The initial phase called for an artillery barrage of unmatched ferocity.

Railguns, armed with high-explosive payloads, would rain destruction onto the Helvetian forces below. The bombardment was calculated to last exactly twenty seconds, during which sixty percent of the ships' munition capacity would be unleashed in a relentless storm of firepower. This precise window allowed for maximum impact while ensuring that the vessels retained enough munitions for unforeseen contingencies.

Phase two would follow immediately. As the final volley of the bombardment struck, the M505 APCs and Flammen MBTs would be airdropped from the cruisers and destroyers, descending to the surface in a controlled chaos of thruster-assisted landings.

Soldiers would pour out of their vehicles the moment they touched down, fanning out to engage whatever resistance the Helvetian army could muster. The first spearhead’s objective was clear: seize the landing zone and secure it at all costs.

Ten minutes later, the second spearhead would follow. Comprised of the Federation's mightiest ships—25 Justice-class battleships and 5 Freedom-class battlecarriers—it would deliver a fresh wave of troops.

These included the less experienced but fully prepared non-commissioned officers. Unlike the veterans of the first spearhead, these soldiers carried a different kind of burden: they were to prove their mettle in the most high-stakes operation the Federation had ever launched.

The battleships and battlecarriers, brimming with overwhelming firepower, were tasked with reinforcing and supporting the first wave. Their deployment would provide the sustained firepower necessary to overwhelm the Helvetian forces entirely and establish an unshakeable foothold in Emidia.

The skies were a lingering concern. High Command had cautioned that Helvetian aerial forces—primarily wyverns—could intervene. While the Federation’s ground forces had decimated such creatures in the portal battle mere days ago, intelligence suggested that the Helvetians might deploy something far more dangerous.

Reports hinted at the existence of dragons, larger and more formidable than any wyvern previously encountered. Commanders instructed every soldier and pilot to keep an eye on the skies once boots were on the ground. The potential threat of a dragon, while still unconfirmed, demanded vigilance.

As the last of the vehicles rumbled into place within the cavernous holds of the destroyers and cruisers, final checks commenced. Engineers scurried between the lines, ensuring that every APC was locked down and that the MBTs' systems were primed.

Pilots in the bridge nodded at their readouts, confirming the readiness of their ships. Soldiers, meanwhile, tightened their harnesses and adjusted their weapons, preparing for the imminent insertion.

From the control tower overlooking the operation, a voice cut through the din, amplified by the ship-wide comms.

“All ground assets secured. Phase one countdown begins now. All personnel, prepare for launch.”

The destroyers’ engines roared to life, their thrusters igniting with a brilliant blue glow. The air crackled with energy as the vessels began their ascent, the weight of their cargo barely slowing them.

Within moments, the first wave of ships disappeared into the shimmering void of the portal, leaving the second wave on the ground to finalize their preparations.

In the silence that followed, the remaining battleships and battlecarriers stood ready, their crews awaiting the command to follow. Above it all, the portal continued to shimmer and ripple, a gateway to an unknown battlefield that promised nothing but chaos and carnage.

The stage was set, and the Federation’s might was on the move.

*  

The dull hum of the M505 Armored Personnel Carrier’s engines reverberated through the confined interior as it swayed gently with the movements of the destroyer carrying it.

Inside, Linda sat strapped into her seat, her face illuminated by the cold glow of the internal screens. The eight other soldiers in her unit were quiet, their exosuits gleaming under the dim cabin lights.

Each one was ready, their helmets locked in place, their weapons secured at their sides. The silence wasn’t one of fear but of disciplined anticipation—trained soldiers bracing for the chaos to come.

Linda tapped the console beside her, activating the cabin’s display. The main screen lit up, cycling through maps, data feeds, and satellite imagery. A synthetic female voice chirped softly over the system. "Link established. All systems operational."

“Alright, listen up!” Linda’s voice cut through the low hum, sharp and commanding, instantly pulling every soldier to attention. Her tone carried the weight of experience, a voice that brooked no dissent.

On the screen, an image of Emidia rotated slowly, the planet’s surface mapped in detail.

“Here’s the final word on the ground we’re dropping into,” she began, her voice steady and clear. “Preliminary satellite scans of Emidia suggest this planet is roughly the size of WASP-17b. That’s right—big. Damn big. For reference, its landmass alone dwarfs what we’re used to back on Earth Three. No need to worry about running out of room to fight, and more importantly, no concerns about air toxicity. Same atmospheric composition as Earth. You can thank High Command’s eggheads for ensuring we won’t choke to death out there.”

The soldiers chuckled lightly at her remark, but Linda’s expression didn’t soften. She tapped the console again, and the screen shifted to highlight the Helvetian Kingdom’s banners, troops, and an estimated military strength.

“Now, here’s the part where we stop smiling,” she continued, her tone dropping into something colder. “Helvetia. This kingdom is our target, and High Command has flagged them as the biggest and most powerful nation in this medieval fantasy world we’re invading. Their soldiers were the ones who marched into Fort Strong and got annihilated in under forty seconds.”

The imagery shifted again, showing the aftermath of the failed Helvetian assault: bodies sprawled, shields splintered, and wyverns grounded in crumpled heaps.

Linda leaned forward, her eyes sweeping across her squad. “Let me be crystal clear: those one hundred thousand troops we vaporized? High Command believes that was just a snack—a damn appetizer. Helvetia’s actual fighting force could be in the millions, maybe even more.”

The gravity of the statement settled heavily over the cabin. The soldiers exchanged glances but said nothing, their resolve unwavering.

Linda nodded approvingly. “Before anyone gets antsy, let me remind you of one thing: we’re not here to count bodies; we’re here to win. Yes, their numbers could overwhelm us, but their technology? It’s pathetic. Swords, shields, bows—stuff we’d laugh at in a museum. Hell, their greatest innovations are things we surpassed before the Industrial Revolution. But,” she added, her voice sharpening again, “do not underestimate them. Just because we’re racking up medieval kills doesn’t mean this fight will be easy.”

The screen flickered again, now displaying diagrams of battle mages in their characteristic robes and wyvern riders in flight. Linda jabbed a finger at the images.

“Two main threats to watch out for. First: battle mages. They’re usually stationed in the rear, behind their sword swingers and shield bearers. Don’t let the robes fool you—these bastards are dangerous. From the intel we’ve gathered, their spells can hit with the force of a medium-powered laser rifle. If you see a blue flash,” she paused for emphasis, her voice turning icy, “duck or die. That’s not a suggestion. That’s a fact.”

She let the warning linger before continuing.

“Second: wyvern riders. You’ve seen their smaller cousins during the Fort Strong incident. High Command predicts more will be present on this mission, and some of them might even be packing bigger mounts. The drones we’re deploying will handle most of them, but if any stragglers slip through and dive toward us, don’t wait for an invitation. Aim for their faces. Turn them into red mist. They’re fast, they’re mean, but they’re vulnerable—especially the riders. Take them down, and the beast is just a big lizard crashing to the dirt.”

Linda took a deep breath, her gaze scanning each of her soldiers’ helmets.

“I’ve trained with most of you for years. I’ve fought beside you. And I’m going to say this now: I expect nothing but the best out there. You know your roles, you know your weapons, and you know how to work as a unit. If I’m wrong—if this plan doesn’t work, if we all end up eating it—just know this: it’s been an honor to serve with you.”

The cabin fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in. Linda’s face hardened, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “But let’s not die just yet, eh? Save that for the poor bastards on the other side of the portal. Happy killing, folks.”

A soft ping sounded over the APC’s intercom, followed by the synthetic voice. “Drop in forty seconds. Mark.”

Linda leaned back in her seat, gripping the edge of the console as the APC shuddered slightly, the destroyer’s systems shifting into deployment mode. The soldiers shifted in their seats, adjusting their weapons and gear, finalizing their mental preparations for what awaited them.

The glowing edge of the portal loomed ahead, and beyond it, the vast, untamed expanse of Emidia—a land that had no idea what was about to descend upon it.

*  

The destroyers and cruisers of the first spearhead emerged through the shimmering portal like avenging specters, their sleek, angular hulls gleaming under the light of a foreign sun. The azure skies of Emidia stretched wide and pristine, a stark contrast to the chaos that was about to unfold below.

In the shadow of the ships, the rolling plains and scattered forests of the Helvetian countryside seemed tranquil—a fragile peace about to be shattered by a storm of steel and fire.

"All units, prepare for artillery bombardment," the crisp, unyielding voice of the fleet command echoed through every ship’s intercom. The countdown has begun.

High above the planet’s surface, the ships floated like predators circling their prey. Their railguns rotated into position, massive turrets locking onto predetermined coordinates. Each warship brimmed with devastating potential, holding enough firepower to obliterate entire cities in moments.

The targeting systems hummed with precise calculations, mapping every hill, field, and grove where Helvetian forces had marshaled their ranks.

On the ground, the Helvetians stood in formation, their banners fluttering in the gentle wind. Soldiers in shining plate armor lined up in perfect rows, their shields reflecting the sun's rays. Behind them, rows of archers notched their arrows, their gazes fixed on the shimmering anomaly in the distance.

Further back, battle mages chanted incantations, their staffs glowing faintly as they prepared for what they could only imagine was an invasion from another realm. They were confident, disciplined, and unaware of what was about to rain down upon them.

The calm was deceptive, the final silence before the storm.

"Artillery run commencing in 3… 2… 1. Fire."

The skies above erupted in a cataclysm of light and sound. The railguns discharged in unison, each shot screaming through the atmosphere with hypersonic speed. The first volley struck the ground with apocalyptic force, massive explosions blooming across the landscape like fiery blossoms.

The Helvetian front lines evaporated. Entire rows of soldiers were incinerated where they stood, their shields and armor offering no protection against the sheer destructive power of high-explosive payloads. The ground itself seemed to recoil, massive craters tearing open as the bombardment continued relentlessly.

Volley after volley followed, each strike precise and devastating. Forests were flattened in seconds, ancient trees splintered into unrecognizable shards. Hills that had stood for millennia were leveled, their earth cast skyward in great plumes of dirt and stone. The Helvetian cavalry, their proud steeds adorned with intricate barding, scattered in chaos, their formations obliterated by the relentless storm.

The mages in the rear tried to respond, hurling fireballs and lightning toward the heavens, but their efforts were futile. The spells fizzled out long before they reached the hovering warships, the energy dissipating harmlessly in the vast distance.

Above the battlefield, UASVs—the Federation’s automated drones—swept through the air in synchronized patterns, their onboard cameras feeding real-time data back to the fleet. The destruction was total, the Helvetian forces reduced to little more than scattered remnants and ash.

Inside the ships, the soldiers of the Federation remained silent as they watched the screens. The carnage below was not new to them, but it was no less sobering.

The high-definition feeds displayed the obliterated landscape in chilling clarity. What had been an organized military force mere moments ago was now a broken, smoking wasteland.

"Ten seconds remaining," came the calm voice of fleet command. The railguns thundered again, their final volleys ripping through any remaining pockets of resistance. Those Helvetians who had not been killed outright fled in panic, abandoning their weapons and their ranks.

The proud kingdom of Helvetia, unprepared for the might of the Federation, had met its first taste of modern warfare—and it was devastating.

"Artillery run complete," the voice announced. "All units, prepare for airdrop."

The bombardment ceased as abruptly as it had begun, the silence almost deafening in its wake. Smoke and fire rose from the shattered ground, casting a haze over the battlefield. The plains were unrecognizable, a patchwork of craters and wreckage that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Above, the destroyers and cruisers adjusted their positions, opening their massive cargo bays. M505 APCs and Flammen-class MBTs were readied for descent, their engines humming with anticipation. Soldiers secured themselves within the vehicles, their helmets gleaming under the cabin lights.

"All ground forces, drop in ten seconds. Let’s finish the job," came the command.

The ships moved into perfect formation, their shadowy forms blotting out the sun. Below, what remained of the Helvetian forces—those who had somehow survived the artillery run—could only stare in terror as the Federation’s war machines began their descent.

The storm had passed, but the ground invasion was about to begin.

*  

The belly of the Order-class destroyers rumbled as the massive bay doors opened, exposing the rows of M505 APCs lined up for deployment. The faint shimmer of smoke and flame from the artillery bombardment drifted upward, casting an ominous haze. Above the battlefield, the faint cries of wyvern riders mixed with the persistent hum of drones.

“All units, prepare for airdrop. Thrusters active. Deployment in three… two… one.”

The APCs were released in synchronized precision, thirty vehicles per ship, their weightless descent aided by high-efficiency thrusters. One after another, the armored behemoths plummeted toward the earth, their sleek forms cutting through the air like missiles.

Inside her APC, Linda Herald felt the controlled chaos of the descent. Her squad sat in silence, gripping the overhead straps as the thrusters slowed their fall. The rhythmic vibrations of the exosuit servos and the gentle hiss of environmental systems were the only sounds.

Linda’s eyes flicked to the internal screen, where a live feed from outside displayed the unfolding carnage. Smoke rose in columns from the craters left by the artillery strike, and scattered Helvetian soldiers scrambled in disarray.

The APC landed with a heavy thud, its hydraulic stabilizers absorbing the impact. Thrusters hissed, and the cabin lights switched to combat red. Linda didn’t wait for an order; she unlatched her harness and barked to her squad.

“Move! Hatch open, now!”

The back ramp lowered, and Linda climbed out into the chaos. She clambered onto the roof of the APC with practiced ease, crouching low behind the mounted M4 Coilgun turret. The air around her was thick with acrid smoke, the screams of the wounded, and the sharp cracks of gauss weaponry.

She swung the coilgun’s sights toward a cluster of Helvetian infantry, who were regrouping near the splintered remains of a trebuchet.

The first burst of fire tore through their formation, cutting down soldiers in a spray of blood and shattered armor. Linda’s movements were precise, each adjustment of the turret ensuring maximum efficiency.

Beside her, two soldiers from her unit clambered onto the roof, taking positions behind the coilgun’s shielded housing. They fired in tandem with her, their rifles picking off stragglers attempting to regroup.

Below, the rest of her squad disembarked with fluid precision. Four soldiers advanced on foot, staying crouched behind the moving APC as it rumbled forward, its thick armor a mobile wall against enemy projectiles.

The group moved methodically, leapfrogging from one point of cover to the next, their gauss rifles spitting bursts of deadly fire into the scattering Helvetian ranks.

Above them, the sky was a violent maelstrom of drones and wyverns. The OD-11 Shepherds moved in tight formations, banking hard to avoid incoming fireballs hurled by Helvetian mages perched on the backs of their mounts.

Missiles streaked through the air, detonating in fiery blossoms that sent wyverns spiraling to the ground, their screeches cutting through the din of battle.

But the drones were not invincible. Some wyverns, directed by their riders, dove sharply into the formations, slashing with their talons or ramming with their immense bodies.

Linda glanced upward as one drone spiraled out of control, its wing sheared off by a wyvern’s massive claws. The drone plummeted, smashing into the ground in a fiery explosion that rocked the battlefield.

“Damn it,” Linda muttered, swinging the turret back toward the advancing Helvetians.

A new wave of infantry was charging, their shields locked in a wall of steel. Behind them, battle mages chanted in unison, their staffs glowing with arcs of blue energy.

“Blue flash!” one of her soldiers shouted.

Linda’s instincts kicked in. “Duck!” she barked, slamming herself flat against the turret’s shield as a burst of magical energy streaked toward them. The spell impacted the ground just in front of the APC, sending a shockwave that shook the vehicle and knocked two advancing soldiers off their feet.

Linda was back up in an instant. “Keep moving! Watch the mages!”

Her voice cut through the cacophony, and her squad responded without hesitation. The soldiers on the ground returned fire, focusing on the mages as Linda laid down suppressive fire with the coilgun. The heavy rounds shredded through the shield wall, sending soldiers crumpling as the Helvetian line faltered.

Amid the chaos, a wyvern descended, its rider aiming a glowing spear at Linda’s position. The creature let out a deafening roar, its massive wings kicking up dust and debris. Linda swung the turret upward, tracking the incoming threat.

“Hostile wyvern inbound!”

The mounted coilgun barked, its rounds ripping into the beast’s chest. The wyvern screamed, its flight faltering as it veered to the side, crashing into a group of Helvetian soldiers. The rider was thrown clear, his spear skittering uselessly across the ground.

Linda exhaled sharply, her mind racing as she scanned the battlefield. Everywhere, FUE forces were engaging with methodical brutality, their technological superiority overwhelming the Helvetians’ medieval tactics.

But the numbers were staggering. Even with the devastation of the artillery run, the enemy kept coming, wave after wave of soldiers pouring from the hills and forests beyond.

“This is hell,” one of her soldiers muttered, firing into the chaos.

Linda glanced down at him, her expression hard. “For them, it’s worse.”

She turned back to the turret, her hands steady on the controls as she unleashed another barrage. Above and around her, the battle raged on, a relentless clash of worlds, ideologies, and eras. The Federation of United Earth was making its mark on Emidia—and it was doing so in fire and blood.

*  

The ground beneath the portal shimmered with unearthly light, the ripple of its energy casting distorted reflections across the battlefield. Precisely ten minutes after the first spearhead had descended, the second spearhead emerged.

Unlike the sleek destroyers and cruisers of the initial wave, the Justice-class battleships and Freedom-class battlecarriers were hulking giants, their immense forms blotting out the sun as they breached into Emidia’s skies.

The air crackled with power as the battleships wasted no time in unleashing their arsenal. The massive railguns mounted on their reinforced decks fired with deafening booms, their payloads streaking across the battlefield like meteors.

Each shot detonated with apocalyptic force, carving craters into the already decimated terrain and obliterating entire Helvetian regiments with terrifying efficiency.

What was once a battlefield of organized chaos now teetered on the edge of total annihilation, the Helvetian forces scattering like ants beneath the Federation's relentless firepower.

High above, the battlecarriers began their deployment. Their enormous belly bays opened wide, and one by one, M505 APCs and Flammen-class MBTs plummeted toward the surface. Their thrusters ignited mid-fall, slowing their descent just enough to ensure a controlled landing.

From the craters left by the artillery bombardment to the pockets of resistance that clung to the ruins of the Helvetian forces, the second spearhead began its mission to reinforce and expand the foothold established by the first wave.

Inside one of the APCs, Josh Herald, now a staff sergeant, adjusted the straps of his exosuit. The cabin around him vibrated with the hum of engines and the jarring impacts of external explosions. His squad sat tense but ready, their gauss rifles locked and loaded.

As the APC touched down with a jolt, Josh unlatched his harness and barked at his team, his voice cutting through the noise. “Alright, you lazy bastards, let’s get to it! Hatch open, now!”

The rear ramp of the APC dropped, and Josh wasted no time climbing onto the roof. The mounted M4 Coilgun awaited him, its polished barrel gleaming in the fiery light of the battlefield. He swung into position, gesturing for his squad to follow.

“Get up here, take cover, and start taking shots!” he shouted over the din.

Two of his soldiers joined him on the roof, crouching low behind the gun’s armored shield as they sighted targets through their scopes.

Below, the rest of the squad disembarked and moved forward in tight formation, using the APC’s bulk as cover while advancing toward the remnants of the Helvetian line.

Josh sighted a cluster of enemy infantry attempting to regroup near the base of a shattered hill. Their shields glinted weakly in the smoke-choked air as they rallied under the direction of a banner-bearing officer.

Josh squeezed the trigger, the coilgun roaring to life. The first volley ripped through the enemy formation, shredding shields and armor alike. The officer was thrown back, his body crumpling as the banner fell to the ground.

One of Josh’s friends, a rifleman named Grant, glanced over at him as he reloaded his gauss rifle. “Hey, Josh! You seen Linda? Last I heard, she was with the first wave.”

Josh kept his eyes on the battlefield, his hands steady on the coilgun’s controls. “Hold on,” he muttered, flipping open his personal tablet strapped to his arm.

The device displayed a map of the engagement zone, with markers indicating the positions of Federation units. A familiar ID tag blinked on the screen—Linda Herald—already two miles ahead, deep into the thick of the fight.

Josh groaned, shaking his head. “She’s two clicks ahead, already knee-deep in this shit.”

Grant let out a low whistle. “Guess she didn’t waste any time.”

“No, she didn’t,” Josh snapped, his frustration evident. He turned to the rest of his squad, his voice rising above the chaos. “Pick the fucking pace up! If you want your names on tomorrow’s kill count board, you better move your asses! Let’s go!”

His words spurred the soldiers into action. The APC roared forward, its tracks grinding against the churned earth as it pushed toward the front. Josh fired continuously from the coilgun, cutting down any Helvetian forces that dared to regroup.

Above them, the skies remained a battleground. OD-11 Shepherds dogfighted with wyvern riders, the drones banking hard to avoid incoming projectiles while firing their missiles with deadly precision.

But the wyverns, driven by desperation and rage, fought back with ferocity. One rider managed to hurl a fireball at a drone, the impact sending the craft spiraling downward before exploding on the ground.

“Eyes up!” Josh yelled to his squad as another wyvern swooped low, its rider aiming a glowing staff toward their advancing APC.

The coilgun spat rounds into the creature’s path, ripping into its wings and sending it crashing into the dirt just ahead of them. The rider was flung clear, only to be cut down by rifle fire from one of Josh’s soldiers.

“Nice shot!” Josh called, a grin tugging at his lips despite the tension.

The battlefield ahead was a maelstrom of destruction. Fires burned across the landscape, black smoke curling into the sky. Federation forces pushed relentlessly forward, their gauss rifles and railguns drowning out the cries of the Helvetian army.

Josh’s APC surged on, determined to close the gap and catch up to Linda’s position.

“Keep moving!” Josh shouted, his voice hoarse but steady. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and a lot of bodies to stack. Let’s show them what the Federation’s made of!”

As the APC pressed forward, the second spearhead continued its march, an unstoppable tide of steel and fire descending upon Emidia’s largest kingdom. For Josh and his squad, there was only one direction to go—straight into the chaos.

*  

Linda’s team huddled behind the crest of a low dune, the once-sturdy ground now slick and treacherous underfoot. What had begun as a dry grassland had been transformed into a treacherous quagmire by Helvetian mages wielding terrain-altering magic.

The wet, oil-like liquid spread across the battlefield, creating an unstable surface that caused even their M505 APC to slip in place, its treads struggling for traction.

Linda adjusted her helmet, the HUD highlighting enemy positions in faint red outlines behind the cover of a grove of mangled trees.

“Damn mages,” she muttered, gripping the scope of her rifle. “Can’t stand and fight, so they screw with the ground.”

She activated her laser designator, the beam slicing through the thick smoke and pointing directly at the clustered formation of battle mages.

“Alright, let’s see how they like this.”

Moments later, a nearby OD-11 Shepherd drone altered its course, breaking from a dogfight with a wyvern and streaking toward the designated target. Linda and her team watched as the drone fired a missile, its trail cutting a brilliant arc through the sky.

The explosion erupted in the heart of the mages’ formation, sending bodies and debris flying in a fiery bloom.

“Bullseye,” Linda said with a satisfied smirk, before the smirk faded.

The victory was short-lived. A wyvern descended on the drone with shocking speed, its talons clamping down on the craft and wrenching it from the air.

The drone sputtered and spiraled before detonating in a fiery explosion, the force rocking the dune and showering the FUE soldiers with dirt and shrapnel.

“Damn it!” Linda barked, slamming her fist against the APC’s side.

“Contacts still moving!” one of her soldiers called out, returning fire as Helvetian infantry surged forward, emboldened by the temporary setback.

Linda steadied herself, raising her rifle. But before she could fire, the rumbling sound of an APC’s engine rose over the chaos. She glanced back, catching sight of another M505 skidding to a stop beside her team. The hatch swung open, and her brother Josh emerged, hauling himself onto the roof of the vehicle with practiced ease.

“Well, well,” Linda called out over the din, a mischievous grin forming. “Look who decided to show up! What took you so long? Stop for a coffee?”

Josh ducked as an arrow pinged off the APC’s turret shield. He dryly shouted back, “The carwash was closed, and I had to take a detour.”

Linda laughed, even as she ducked down from a volley of arrows fired by Helvetian archers. “Excuses, excuses!”

Josh crouched behind the mounted turret, taking aim at a group of advancing infantry. “What the hell is this terrain? Feels like we’re fighting on a damn slip-and-slide.”

“Mages,” Linda replied, jerking her thumb toward the mess of wet grass behind her. “We just took out one group, but they’re still slowing us down.”

Josh’s squad disembarked, taking positions alongside Linda’s. The siblings exchanged a quick nod, their banter giving way to the mutual understanding of the battlefield.

Then it happened.

A shadow passed over them, vast and all-encompassing. The light from the sun seemed to dim, and the air grew still, heavy with an unnatural tension. Linda froze, her rifle halfway to her shoulder. Josh stopped mid-reload, his eyes flicking upward instinctively.

“What the hell…” someone muttered.

From above, a deep, guttural roar erupted—a sound so loud it seemed to shake the earth itself. All eyes turned skyward, and what they saw made even the most hardened soldiers of the Federation pause in disbelief.

It was no wyvern.

A massive, four-legged creature with scales the color of blood soared above them, its leathery wings stretching wide enough to shroud an entire apartment complex in shadow. The sheer size of the beast was staggering; it dwarfed the wyverns they had encountered before, its bulk casting a dark pall over the battlefield.

Linda’s voice caught in her throat. “Is that… a dragon?”

Josh stared up, slack-jawed for a moment, before snapping out of it. “Oh hell nah!” he shouted, his voice tinged with incredulity.

The dragon circled once, its piercing orange eyes scanning the chaos below with an unnerving intelligence. It opened its maw, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and let loose a torrent of fire.

The flames roared downward, consuming an entire Helvetian formation in an instant. Soldiers screamed as they were incinerated, their armor melting like wax under the intense heat.

But it wasn’t just the Helvetian army reacting. The remaining soldiers, already faltering against the Federation’s technological might, broke ranks entirely at the dragon’s appearance. Panic spread like wildfire, and their once-disciplined lines dissolved into chaos as they fled in all directions.

Even the Federation soldiers, accustomed to facing threats from alien war machines and intergalactic monstrosities, found themselves momentarily stunned. The sheer presence of the dragon—its size, its power—was something out of myth, not the battlefield.

Linda ducked instinctively as the dragon’s shadow passed over them, the heat from its fire palpable even at a distance.

She turned to Josh, her face grim. “Tell me you’ve got something for that.”

Josh shook his head, his usual snark momentarily replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. “I don’t think a coilgun’s gonna cut it this time.”

Above, the dragon roared again, banking hard as it prepared for another pass. Its wings beat with a force that sent dust and debris swirling across the battlefield. The siblings exchanged a glance, their moment of camaraderie quickly giving way to the harsh reality of the situation.

Linda clenched her jaw, gripping her rifle tightly. “Get your team in position. That thing’s not here to make friends.”

Josh nodded, snapping back into command mode. “You heard her!” he barked to his squad. “Lock and load! Aim for the eyes, the wings—whatever makes it bleed. And keep your heads down!”

The siblings crouched beside the APCs as the dragon’s shadow loomed closer, its orange eyes fixed on the human interlopers. For the first time in the campaign, both FUE and Helvetian forces shared something in common: the unshakable realization that they were no longer the apex predators on this battlefield.

*  

The dragon soared through the smoke-choked skies with a terrifying grace, its immense wings beating with a power that sent gusts rippling across the battlefield below. Its shadow loomed over friend and foe alike, casting both the Helvetian and Federation forces into a shared, chilling darkness.

Above, the Federation’s OD-11 Shepherd drones swarmed, their automated systems locking onto the behemoth and firing streams of missiles and coilgun rounds.

But the dragon was no mindless beast. It banked sharply to the right, its massive claws slashing through the air with deadly precision. One drone after another was swatted from the sky, their remains spiraling to the ground in fiery explosions.

The creature’s roar echoed across the plains, an ear-shattering declaration of defiance against the modern machines that dared to challenge it.

Below, Federation soldiers scrambled for cover as the beast shifted its attention. Its chest swelled, its neck arching back, the fiery glow within its throat intensifying. Then, with a deafening bellow, the dragon unleashed an infernal spray of flames.

The firestorm swept across the battlefield, its searing heat igniting everything in its path. Soldiers caught outside their vehicles were incinerated in seconds, their screams snuffed out as their bodies turned to ash.

The flames licked at the M505 APCs and Flammen-class MBTs, melting through the outer and middle layers of their composite armor. Inside, the temperature surged to unbearable levels, knocking soldiers unconscious from heatstroke.

Linda’s team, sheltered behind their APC, ducked low as the firestorm passed over them. The APC groaned under the strain, its hull glowing faintly from the heat. She coughed, sweat pouring down her face as she shouted to her squad.

“Stay down! Keep your helmets on! It’s cooking everything out here!”

Josh, from his position on the roof of his APC, barely avoided the worst of the flames, the edges of his exosuit’s plating glowing faintly from the heat.

“This thing’s insane!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “We need air support, now!”

Above, the dragon veered sharply, turning its fiery wrath toward one of the Justice-class battleships hovering in the distance. It roared as it dove, its massive body closing the gap with terrifying speed.

The battleship’s railguns swiveled, firing a salvo of shots, but the dragon twisted mid-flight, evading most of the incoming rounds.

With a furious screech, the dragon lashed out with its hind legs, its claws raking across the battleship’s command deck. The ship’s superstructure groaned under the impact, steel plating buckling as sparks and debris erupted from the damaged sections.

Half the officers stationed on the command deck were killed instantly, their bodies crushed or flung into the void. Fires broke out along the damaged sections, automated suppression systems struggling to contain the chaos.

The battleship staggered, tilting slightly as its systems tried to compensate for the massive damage. But its sister ship, positioned nearby, was already taking aim. Its railguns roared in unison, firing a devastating salvo of high-velocity rounds.

The dragon screamed in pain as the projectiles tore through its body, leaving massive, car-sized holes in its crimson scales.

Blood rained from the sky as the dragon faltered, its flight growing erratic. The creature roared again, its once-majestic form now riddled with wounds, its strength waning. It attempted to retreat, flapping its immense wings in desperation.

But the Federation wasn’t done.

An air wing of 16 OD-11 Shepherd drones closed in, their formations tight and precise. Harpoons shot from their undercarriages, the cables glinting in the smoky light as they embedded into the dragon’s left hind leg.

The drones banked hard, yanking the beast downward with their combined force. The dragon thrashed, its wings beating furiously, but the drones held firm, dragging it closer to the ground.

Below, one of the Law-class cruisers prepared its finishing blow. Its missile launchers locked onto the dragon’s struggling form, and the order was given.

“Fire Washington III missiles.”

Three missiles shot skyward, their trails streaking across the battlefield. The dragon let out one final roar of defiance before the missiles struck home.

The resulting explosion was blinding, a massive fireball that lit up the sky and sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield. The dragon’s body was obliterated, the force of the detonation tearing it into countless pieces.

But the carnage wasn’t over.

The dragon’s remains rained down across the battlefield, massive chunks of flesh and bone hurtling toward the ground with deadly momentum. The sheer size and mass of the falling debris turned them into lethal projectiles.

Linda shouted, “Incoming! Get to cover!” as her team scrambled behind their APC.

One enormous chunk of the dragon’s wing crashed into a group of fleeing Helvetian soldiers, crushing them instantly. Another section of its tail slammed into an M505 APC, flattening the vehicle and sealing the unconscious soldiers inside in a twisted metal coffin.

A fragment of the dragon’s claw pierced the ground near Linda’s position, sending up a plume of dirt and debris that showered her squad.

Josh watched in horror as another piece—a chunk of the dragon’s torso—collided with an advancing Flammen-class MBT, the impact flipping the tank onto its side and crushing it under the immense weight.

“Damn it!” Josh yelled, slamming his fist against the turret’s shield. “It’s killing us even after it’s dead!”

The battlefield fell silent for a moment as the last of the debris settled, the smoke clearing to reveal the aftermath. The dragon’s short-lived reign of terror was over, but its death had left destruction in its wake, indiscriminately claiming both Federation and Helvetian lives.

Linda pulled herself to her feet, scanning the battlefield. Her helmet’s comm crackled to life as a report from High Command came through.

“All units, the hostile entity has been neutralized. Regroup and continue advancing. Expect resistance as enemy forces recover.”

Linda turned to Josh, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. “You still want to complain about carwashes, or are you ready to finish this?”

Josh smirked despite himself, reloading his rifle. “Let’s finish it.”

The siblings readied themselves, their squads forming up as the Federation forces pressed forward, undeterred by the chaos. The dragon was gone, but the battle for Emidia was far from over.

7

December 30th, 0300 HRS

High Command Summit

The High Command chamber at Apex Prime was solemn, its usual grandeur subdued by the weight of recent events. Towering holo-displays lined the walls, each one cycling through tactical maps, casualty reports, and live feeds from the battlefront on Emidia. Around the circular table sat the Federation’s most powerful leaders, their crisp uniforms marked with the insignias of their respective commands.

At the head of the table stood Grand Marshal Adrian Vex, his presence dominating the room. His piercing gaze swept across the gathered officers as he placed a data slate on the table, its contents flickering to life on the central holo-projector.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Vex began, his voice heavy with gravity, “we are now 24 hours into Operation Stormfront, and the results of the first day’s engagement are… concerning.”

He gestured to the holo-display, which now showed casualty figures scrolling down the screen.

“Helvetia has suffered monumental losses—nearly twenty million soldiers dead. Their tactics are antiquated, their technology laughable, and their formations suicidal against our firepower. On paper, this should be a decisive victory.”

Vex’s tone darkened, and his jaw clenched. “But…” He pressed a button on the console, and the Federation’s own casualty numbers appeared beside the Helvetian toll.

“Sixteen hundred,” Vex said grimly, the number echoing through the chamber. “Sixteen hundred Federation soldiers lost. The vast majority perished in the dragon’s attack or the collateral aftermath caused by its destruction. A handful fell to battlefield mishaps—crashed drones, stray munitions, or terrain complications. The Helvetians may not match us technologically, but their sheer numbers and adaptability are forces we cannot underestimate.”

The room was silent save for the faint hum of the holo-projector. Many of the officers exchanged uneasy glances. In the Federation, every life was counted, and every death scrutinized. The thought of losing over a thousand soldiers on the first day of a campaign was unprecedented in modern times.

Vex leaned forward, placing both hands on the table. “Folded flags are to be sent to the families of the fallen immediately. Their names will be displayed prominently on tomorrow’s 6 a.m. broadcast. Every citizen of the Federation will know the sacrifice of these heroes, and every family will know their loved ones are honored.”

He straightened, letting out a heavy sigh before continuing. “However tragic these losses may be, we cannot lose sight of the larger picture. Operation Stormfront is not merely a military engagement—it is a test of our resolve, our superiority, and our unity. We cannot falter, and we cannot let these losses deter us. The operation must end in patriotic triumph, or we risk losing more than just a few battles—we risk our very ideals.”

One of the generals, Takara, raised her hand. “Grand Marshal, with respect, how do we propose to sustain morale after a beginning like this? Even with our technological edge, the scale of this conflict is… unprecedented.”

Vex nodded grimly. “You’re correct, General. Which is why we must show progress—not just destruction, but creation. The proposed Fort Liberty, our first stronghold on Emidia, is already greenlit for construction. Prefabricated structures have completed production and are ready for rapid assembly. We will establish a command center, airfield, medical facilities, barracks, and other essential structures immediately.”

The holo-display shifted to show a blueprint of Fort Liberty, a sprawling star-shaped fortress designed to project power and provide a secure base of operations.

“Construction will begin within the next six hours,” Vex continued. “The basic structures are expected to be operational by the end of tomorrow. As for the walls and the top-side defense systems, those will take longer—approximately two weeks, depending on the situation on the ground. Work on those will commence on January 7th and should be completed by January 14th, barring significant delays.”

He turned his attention to the Director of Engineering, Dr. Alistair Minara, who was present via hologram. “Dr. Minara, do we have the necessary manpower and logistics in place to meet this timeline?”

Minara’s holographic image nodded confidently. “Yes, Grand Marshal. The prefab units are designed for rapid deployment. We have automated construction systems and personnel already on-site. As long as the area remains secured, the timeline is achievable.”

Vex turned back to the room. “Securing the area will be paramount. I’ve ordered the second wave of reinforcements to bolster the front lines while the first wave consolidates our position. Additional air support and artillery assets will be deployed as needed. I expect every commander here to ensure that Fort Liberty is not just built—it is defended to the last.”

Admiral Dreyfus leaned forward, his expression skeptical. “And what of the Helvetian response? After suffering such catastrophic losses, they may throw everything they have at us in desperation.”

Vex’s gaze hardened. “Let them come. Every arrow they loose, every soldier they send, every spell they cast will only drain them further. We will meet their desperation with overwhelming force. This campaign will not end until Helvetia and the rest of Emidia understand the price of defiance against the Federation.”

He paused, scanning the room to ensure his words had landed. “We are at the beginning of a long road. It will be brutal. It will demand sacrifice. But it will end with the Federation standing unchallenged, a beacon of order and strength. I want every department to submit updated operational plans by 0800. This meeting is adjourned.”

As the officers began to file out, Vex remained at the table, his eyes fixed on the casualty report still glowing on the holo-display. He folded his hands tightly, his expression unreadable.

“Sixteen hundred on the first day,” he muttered to himself. “We’ll honor their sacrifice, but we cannot let it happen again.”

The weight of the operation loomed over him, but there was no room for doubt. For the Federation, failure was not an option. The chamber remained silent for a moment after the meeting adjourned, the hum of the holo-displays filling the void.

As officers began filtering out, Dr. Alistair Minara's holographic form lingered, her sharp features betraying a thoughtful hesitation. Grand Marshal Adrian Vex, ever perceptive, caught her pensive expression and raised a brow.

“Something on your mind, Minara?” Vex asked, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, sir,” Minara replied, her tone measured. “I’ve been reviewing the reports from yesterday’s operation, and it’s clear we’re dealing with variables we didn’t anticipate. The Helvetian forces, for all their medieval ineptitude, managed to coordinate supporting waves of wyvern riders that evaded our satellites entirely. And then there’s the dragon.”

Vex’s jaw tightened, but he gestured for her to continue.

“Even with our advanced reconnaissance capabilities, we failed to detect its presence until it was too late,” Minara said. “Relying solely on orbital intel has its limits. I propose we take a more radical—and discrete—approach to avoid further losses.”

“Radical and discrete?” Vex echoed, narrowing his eyes. “Explain.”

“A localized reconnaissance team,” Minara replied. “Smaller scale, embedded within the enemy’s territory. A team on the ground could gather intelligence directly from the source, bypassing whatever methods the Helvetians are using to mask their movements and assets. It’s a stretch for large military operations, I admit, but for something as critical as this? I don’t see any harm in trying.”

Vex considered her suggestion, his expression inscrutable. After a moment, he nodded.

“It’s a sound proposal. With the scale of resistance increasing, we can’t afford to stumble into another surprise like that dragon. Do you have anyone in mind for this… team?”

Minara’s lips curved into a faint smile. “As a matter of fact, I do.” She tapped at a console on her end, pulling up a dossier that appeared on the holo-display in the center of the room. A name and picture dominated the screen: Linda Herald, flanked by a list of accolades and service records.

“Captain Linda Herald,” Minara began, “formerly Second Lieutenant. She was part of the first spearhead yesterday and achieved an impressive tally—over four thousand confirmed kills within thirty minutes of engagement. Her performance during the operation was exemplary.”

Vex leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Her name sounds familiar.”

“Her family might be why,” Minara added, scrolling to the section on family history. “Her younger brother, Staff Sergeant Josh Herald, was part of the second spearhead, and her youngest sibling, Private Nicole Herald, is already enlisted and scheduled to deploy with the third spearhead tomorrow morning. Their parents both served in the military, and their grandparents fought in the Seventh Galactic War on both sides of the family tree. Their service history reads like a Federation recruitment ad.”

Vex chuckled, shaking his head. “A one-in-a-billion coincidence, indeed. It sounds like military excellence is practically encoded in their DNA.”

“There’s more,” Minara continued. “Linda has extensive training in reconnaissance and sniper operations. She attended special forces school but withdrew in her sixth week due to a family emergency—Nicole suffered a severe kidney health issue at the time, and Linda stepped in to care for her. Despite that, her records are impeccable.”

Vex studied the dossier, his expression softening slightly at the mention of Linda’s withdrawal from special forces school. “Balancing duty and family… not an easy call, but she made it work. Impressive.”

He straightened, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, Minara, you’ve sold me on her. Get word to Captain Herald and have her ready to face me via holo-call by January 2nd. I want to propose this recon team idea directly to her.”

“Understood,” Minara said.

“One more thing,” Vex added. “You mentioned keeping this discrete. If they’re going to infiltrate enemy territory, we can’t have them marching around in standard Mark 80 exo-suits or wielding gauss rifles. They’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

Minara’s brows lifted. “Agreed. But what do you suggest?”

Vex’s grin widened. “The Mark 110 Exo-Suit prototypes.”

Minara blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “The nanosuits? The fourth iteration of the semi-quantum realm-insertion design?”

“Exactly,” Vex said, his tone growing more animated. “The prototypes are still in experimental stages, but from what I’ve read, they’re perfect for this mission. They integrate seamlessly with the user’s body, capable of taking shape almost instantaneously. When not in use, they can be stored within a nano-chamber implanted in the user’s heart. Compact, efficient, and covert.”

Minara’s gaze sharpened as she recalled the reports on the project. “They were shelved after the Seventh Galactic War, weren’t they?”

“Yes, but that war was a different beast entirely,” Vex said. “We don’t need full deployment—just enough suits for a small team. If this works, it could redefine our approach to reconnaissance missions.”

Minara nodded slowly, her mind already calculating the logistics. “It’s bold, but it might be exactly what we need. With a capable leader like Captain Herald, the plan sounds solid. And I assume you’ll let her pick her own team?”

“Of course,” Vex said. “A leader performs best when they trust the people beside them. If she accepts the mission, the team will be hers to assemble.”

Minara smiled faintly. “I’ll arrange everything. You’ll have her ready for the call by January 2nd.”

“Good,” Vex said, glancing once more at the holo-display of Linda’s dossier. “Let’s see if this Herald family legacy can deliver once again.”

8

Federation of United Earth Broadcasting Network (FEUBN)

Morning Broadcast – December 30th, 0600 HRS

The screen flickered to life, the official FEUBN Morning News jingle playing over a sweeping shot of the Federation flag—a sleek, minimalist design of white stars and red stripes with a shining blue emblem in the center. Transitioning to a state-of-the-art newsroom, its high-tech walls display live feeds of Federation-controlled planets, starships in orbit, and the gleaming blue-green sphere of Emidia.

At the anchor desk sat two impeccably dressed reporters, Alec Varn and Mira Solis, their expressions a practiced blend of professionalism and solemnity.

“Good morning, citizens of the Federation,” Alec began, his deep, resonant voice carrying the weight of the occasion. “It’s 0600 hours on December 30th, and we are coming to you live with the latest updates on Operation Stormfront, the first military engagement in the newly discovered parallel world, Emidia.”

Mira leaned forward slightly, her voice carrying a softer but equally measured tone. “The first 24 hours have seen extraordinary developments. Our brave men and women of the Federation Armed Forces have faced challenges unlike any in our history, demonstrating unparalleled courage and resilience in the face of adversity.”

The screen behind them shifted to show an aerial view of the battlefield, smoke still rising from the aftermath of the artillery barrage. Federation ships hovered ominously in the skies above, their sleek forms a stark contrast to the medieval ruins below.

“Operation Stormfront began with a decisive display of the Federation’s might,” Alec continued. “In the initial spearhead, our forces inflicted catastrophic losses on the enemy. Early estimates suggest the Helvetian Kingdom—a powerful but technologically primitive nation—suffered nearly twenty million casualties in the first day alone.”

A brief montage of footage played: Federation M505 APCs advancing through smoke-filled grasslands, drones swarming wyvern riders in the skies, and railgun artillery strikes flattening entire formations of Helvetian soldiers.

“But even with this success,” Mira added, her tone growing somber, “the price of progress has not come without sacrifice. Yesterday, our forces encountered an unexpected and unprecedented threat: a massive, fire-breathing dragon—unlike anything humanity has ever faced. This creature inflicted severe damage on our forces before it was ultimately neutralized by the combined efforts of our air and ground teams.”

The screen cut to footage of the dragon in battle, its massive form silhouetted against a backdrop of explosions as it rained fire onto the battlefield. The camera lingered on the aftermath: twisted wreckage of APCs and MBTs, soldiers helping one another from the smoldering ground, and the bloodied remains of the beast being examined by Federation scientists.

“Despite this unforeseen challenge,” Alec said, his voice steady, “our military’s resolve remained unshaken. However, the dragon’s attack claimed the lives of over 1,600 Federation soldiers—heroes who gave their lives to secure the future of this operation and of humanity’s presence in Emidia.”

The screen displayed a scrolling list of names, each one accompanied by a small flag icon. The solemn notes of a violin played softly in the background.

“These brave souls,” Mira continued, her eyes glistening slightly, “have made the ultimate sacrifice. Their families will be receiving folded flags in honor of their loved ones, and their names will be remembered by every citizen of the Federation. Let us all take a moment today to express our gratitude to their families and offer support to the loved ones they leave behind. Their sacrifices will not be in vain.”

Alec nodded solemnly before the broadcast shifted focus. “In the wake of these events, Grand Marshal Adrian Vex has approved the construction of the Federation’s first military stronghold on Emidia: Fort Liberty. This bastion of progress and security will serve as the foundation for our continued operations in this new world.”

The screen displayed a holographic blueprint of Fort Liberty, its star-shaped walls surrounded by automated turrets, airfields, and prefabricated structures.

“Fort Liberty’s construction is already underway,” Mira said, her tone uplifting. “By the end of today, its command center, airfield, medical facilities, and barracks will be operational, with top-side defenses expected to be completed in the coming weeks. This stronghold will ensure that our soldiers have the support they need to carry out their mission.”

Alec leaned forward, his gaze resolute. “To the citizens watching at home: now is the time to show your support. Write to your military family members. Send messages of encouragement and solidarity. Let them know that their courage is not only seen but celebrated.”

Mira turned toward the camera, her voice warm yet firm. “And to the families of the fallen: know that their sacrifices have paved the way for humanity’s progress. They will forever be remembered as heroes of the Federation. Together, we will carry forward their legacy, ensuring a brighter future for all.”

The broadcast faded to a wide-angle shot of the newsroom, the anchors sitting in respectful silence. The Federation’s anthem began to play softly in the background, its solemn chords filling the air.

As the credits rolled, the screen displayed a snippet of the anthem’s lyrics:

“Of the fall we do not fear, of the death we shall seek, of the courage we have now and forever, my Federation, my country, my greatest be my beacon for the lighthouse we have not seen. For the Federation my heart falls, for the Federation my soul fights.”

The screen faded to black, leaving the Federation flag waving gently in the breeze, a silent reminder of the unity and sacrifice that defined its people.