It was an early evening. I sat in my chair aboard the Camelot, listening to the reports of the crew aboard its bridge, doing the last rounds of checks before takeoff. It was only formality, really, and Kustov dealt with most of it so I could gaze through the projection before me, watching the gathered civilians and listening to their cheering. They knew where we were heading, and they understood its meaning. Yet, none thought we would fail, which also gave me the confidence to push any doubt out of my mind.

We were ready.

The airship was filled with my best soldiers, ready to jump into action, quite literally. The mechs were armed and ready, and my pilots, including Yuri and my father, were sitting in them, waiting for liftoff. Luna was with Mikan, staying in our room for now, while Sasha was down at the bottom, making the last rounds around the mechanics, holding the mechs in place. Lastly, Merlin settled down in engineering, overseeing the cores and our formations so they operate at the maximum level without any hitch.

“Sovereign?” Kustov asked, drawing me out of my stupor. It seems I missed the first occasion when he called out to me.

“If all is ready,” I said, fixing my posture, “Take us to the sky!”

“You heard him!” He turned, shouting at the others. “Start ascending!”

It didn’t take long for the ship to start rising to the sky, climbing higher and higher without anything impeding us. Thanks to our preparations, the mechs weighed nothing, and they were lifted up without issues, fastened to the underside of the Camelot’s wide and long body. At the top, we carried our six airplanes, which were right now empty, their pilots waiting inside the ship. I didn’t want them to freeze to death while we traveled. It will take us time to get into position anyway, and I don’t think they will see much action at the first assault.

We will strike under the cover of darkness, and I was unsure if I should risk them flying out into the pitch-black night in the middle of nowhere. Even if we equip them with everything we have, it is hard enough to return to the Camelot in broad daylight. Their time will come later.

“Everything is functioning as expected,” Merlin said, his voice coming from the radio connected to my chair. “No extra stress on the cores, all within the optimal range.”

“Same down here.” Sasha joined his report. “They are stable, and the formations held them fixed, tethered to the Camelot. They are swaying only minimally, within expectations and the test results.”

“Good… Keep monitoring them and keep constant watch. Merlin, are you sure we will detect our target?”

“Our magical scanners will catch him just the same way we can notice the beasts coming our way. It will be easy, My Sovereign.”

“Then…” I looked at Kustov and the crew aboard the bridge, including Elena. “Let’s begin our march towards Ishillia. Towards victory!”

“Towards victory!” They repeated as we disappeared from the view of the people down below, including my mother and my sons and daughters… waving at me until they could see us no longer.

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…..

As we traveled, the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape under us and painting the undersides of the clouds in hues of orange and crimson before disappearing completely. It was going to be a dark night, exactly what we hoped for.

Inside the bridge, the atmosphere was calm and lacking the tenseness I was expecting, which could be a good sign. Our navigation systems displayed the route to the perceived Ishillian stronghold, a cluster of red markers flickering on the overlaid projection of our surroundings. I couldn’t help but praise the Ishillians for coming up with the Imaginary in the first place… it was a great boon for us now. As we traveled, the minutes turned into hours, letting the darkness take hold of our surroundings, cloaking our approach. We had already passed by our magical prison cell, and we were getting into position right above the core of Barth’s encampment within a medium-sized city.

We don’t know if he could feel our presence or when our spells were scanning him. Maybe not. Maybe he did. It didn't matter how it was for him; we were still more than 6,000 meters high, out of his reach. By Merlin’s measurements, he had to be there, as he could identify a similar reading as Otto’s when they faced each other before Lothlia. What we were waiting for was for the right time so Mirian and Elliot’s army could move to position. Only a few minutes… and it would begin.

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……

Down below, in the cargo hold, the best of my soldiers prepared in silence. Their usual banter and jokes were replaced by silence, each of them checking their equipment and their gear before the jump, along with the enchanted tattoos on their arms. The mechs hung motionless under the Camelot, their pilots focusing their thoughts on their mission as they would drop down first from the sky, right on top of our enemy. The moment they were off, the soldiers were to follow them, heading to the outside of the base, catching them in the back while every focus was on the four death machines crashing down on them. Maybe the only relaxed and nonchalant person of them all was Yuri, who just leaned back in her seat, her voice casual as she spoke into the open channel between the mechs and my squad leaders that I also monitored.

“Remember,” she said, her voice just as playful as always, “we’re the hammer tonight. We come, we smash, we win! Don’t miss your dropzones, or you will end up under one of us… And the only man who can be under me is sitting on the bridge~!”

Listening to her, Sasha only rolled her eyes as she moved through the hold with a clipboard in hand, inspecting each mech’s tethering mechanisms, ready to release them when the signal came. She stopped at Yuri’s mech, bringing the radio up to her lips.

“Looks like you’re all set, Miss Hotshot. Don’t make me regret allowing you to take part in our first assault.”

“Relax my Queen!” Yuri grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of messing this up for us! And for my hubby~ I'm just feeling... pumped up. Like in the good old times!”

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Above them, a few levels away, Merlin monitored the cores of the Camelot and the magical arrays from the engineering bay, his eyes darting between displays, making sure their primary target, the supposed mage, wouldn’t escape. The Camelot was operating at peak efficiency, as he expected, the magic from the beasts’ cores coursing through its systems, just like how blood flows within a human’s body. No obstructions and no weird anomalies. He quickly adjusted a few dials, ensuring the energy flow remained steady as the ship slowly came to a halt.

We were in position.

“We’re at the dropzone,” he reported to the bridge, bringing me out of my contemplating silence. “The wind is low; we are stable, ready to go. If the enemy has any way of sensing us, they’ll see nothing but the black skies.”

“Good,” I replied, rising from my chair as the crew turned their attention to me, waiting for the final command. “Prepare for deployment. Kustov! Maintain altitude, and after everybody is away, bring us down. Merlin, ensure all magical arrays remain stable. Sasha… Release the mechs when the cue is given.”

“Aye, Sovereign,” Kustov responded, his hands steady on the controls, echoed by my wives’ voices coming through the open channels.

“This is it,” I said, my voice carrying through the comms to every corner of the ship. “You’ve trained for this. You’ve prepared for this. Tonight, we strike from the sky, and the enemy won’t know what hit them. Show them the strength of Avalon. Show them why we cannot be stopped. Today, we win our first battle, and by the end of summer, I want us all to celebrate our victory over Ishillia!”

I heard as the soldiers erupted into a resounding, determined cheer, their confidence bolstered by my words. It was all I could do; the rest was up to them all.

“Drop team... Ho!” Sasha’s voice rang out over the comms the moment I finished my speech.

Without hesitation, the four mechs were released, shooting down like cannonballs, followed by our soldiers, who leaped into the void with no hesitations. For the next few minutes… there was nothing but silence and for us to wait…

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The city of Kubak. Previously, it was nothing but an old castle surrounded by a mid-sized town, placed at the intersection of the central and northern regions of the Empire. If anything, it was the last resting stop for caravans heading to the Silver Region. Yet, since Mirian's rebellion, it became Barth's headquarters, gaining an importance that it never had in the past. Its new ruler had organized the sealing of the North from this city, reinforcing it and making it the spell's focal point. To protect it, he also kept his resources and most of his army around the city, from where he could react to any attempts if Mirian Ishillia tried to break through. The encampment, despite being the middle of the night, was still alive with the noise of soldiers and citizens—some drinking, some tending to their weapons, others standing watch over the barricades and fortifications, nodding off. Nobody expected anything to happen... not even Barth. Yet, since yesterday, he felt... nervous. Right at that moment, he stood in the heart of his stronghold, arms folded, his gaze drifting across the flickering torches and the light of the campfires.

Something was wrong. He was looking to find what... but... there was nothing. Yet there was. And whatever it was, it was driving him insane.

He could feel it: a gnawing sensation crawling under his skin, tightening around his chest like the sign of a future illness. His instincts kept screaming at him, but no tangible threat presented itself, no matter how many times he scanned the surroundings of the city. He even sent out scouts and mediated over the core formation of the blocking spell... Nothing. No enemy was coming, no danger at all. Even the weather was cool, and the usual windy town was still... Too still. It made him feel it was an uneasy silence.

"What is it?" he asked himself, spreading his awareness, but once again, nothing.

And yet... His fingers twitched.

"General?" A soldier approached, saluting. "The scouts report no unusual activity. Everything remains as expected. Should we repeat our search?"

"..." Barth exhaled slowly, unsure of his next order, "Something is happening," he muttered under his breath. "We just didn't find it yet."

Before the soldier could respond, the world above them shattered—at least, it felt like it. With a deafening roar, the heavens cracked open, and fire rained from the sky. No, not fire—something worse. Demons. Monsters... Death.

Four titanic shapes tore through the night, massive god-like beasts plunging down like vengeful gods, here to enact their vengeance. Something that nobody, not even Barth, could put into words what they really were. They hit the ground with devastating force, the impact alone sending such a shockwave rippling through the city that it threw men off their feet, shattering stone and wood alike, killing dozens and burying them under the rubble. Old networks of houses crumbled as these monsters rose from the dust, their armored forms gleaming in the moonlight, their joints groaning like groaning behemoths, with glowing, frightening red, crazed eyes.

Watching them appear from the sky, Barth’s breath was caught in his throat, suffocating him. He tried to step forward, tried to give a command—but his body refused to move.

The Gods had returned... and they unleashed hell.

Flashes of light erupted as cannons fired, tearing through barricades like parchment as if it were nothing but wet paper. He watched as massive swords were swung around, obliterating defensive towers and sending them toppling into the streets below. Soldiers, his personally trained men, hardened warriors... They amounted to nothing. They were crushed, burned, and blown apart before they could even comprehend what was happening. Chaos consumed Kubak.

Then, before the dust could settle, the second wave arrived.

From the sky, once again, they came.

Dozens... no, hundreds of figures descended like blackened wraiths, their crimson eyes glowing in the night, here to take away every living being's soul. They landed among the ruins of Barth’s army, blades flashing, electricity, fire, and ice roaring around them, cutting through the panicked ranks like miniature reapers through a wheat field.

The Ishillian forces collapsed instantly, and Barth could only watch, frozen solid.

"No," he whispered, though whether it was denial or realization, he didn’t know. "Here? Impossible... no, not here... not... no... no..."

"General!" A soldier sprinted towards him, face twisted in terror. "General! We need orders! We—"

His words died off in a deafening explosion.

One of the four mech’s arms swung around like a hammer, obliterating a line of barricades and sending bodies flying, slapping away the shouting soldier, leaving behind nothing but a mist of blood. There was not even a body to be seen after it. Explosions burst across the city as the beasts' cannons kept bombarding, destroying every encampment they could identify. The enemy was everywhere, coming down from the sky, raining death upon them. They were unstoppable.

And then, through the cacophony of screams and destruction, a sound rose above all else.

"Impossible..." Barth said, his face white as a ghost. He gazed up at the night sky, watching a giant, oval shape emerge above his city. Then it spoke.

A deep, guttural blaring warhorn.

Barth felt that the sky itself trembled, his body numb with horror.

Its silhouette emerged through the smoke-choked night, an iron leviathan gliding through the air. Its form was monstrous, larger than any of the airships he had seen or rode in his life. Its sheer scale dwarfed everything beneath it, and in Barth's eyes, it was THE harbinger of death and conquest. No wonder these monsters swarmed out of its rotten belly...

At that moment, Barth's mind broke. This wasn’t a battle. This wasn’t a skirmish. He understood it.

This was annihilation.

His knees nearly buckled as he took a shuddering step back. His men were dying by the hundreds. His fortress, his stronghold, was crumbling in minutes, and soon, the prison he built for the North would be breached and destroyed... and he would die from the backlash.

"It’s over," he whispered.

He knew it. And still, he could not move or try to defend himself. It was futile. Everything was... over.