The Resistance Base – 3/7/2893 – 7:00 PM

Stepping into the command office of the resistance forces, Valera, a female soldier clad in a form-fitting white military uniform, carried herself with poise and authority as she spoke firmly:

"Sir, our combat forces are fully prepared. Additionally, our reconnaissance operations on the enemy’s stronghold have yielded some crucial intelligence."

The commander, a man with short black hair and scars covering his battle-worn body, remained silent, listening intently to her report.

"According to satellite images and scout reports, the entire Alsma force has converged at Antartika Point—the central point of the South Polar Continent. It is where they constructed an impenetrable triple-layered fortress during the initial days of their invasion of Ather."

"In terms of combat strength," Valera continued, "intelligence reports estimate over seven thousand Gemini Warden troops are guarding the fortress. There are no confirmed details regarding their commanding officers."

Her voice took on a cautionary tone. "However, I fear that may not be the full extent of their power. We are well aware of how cunning they can be."

The commander, his voice deep and resolute, echoed his unwavering determination:

"Well done, Valera. With this intelligence, we have the foundation needed to launch an all-out assault and crush their command center."

"Understood, sir. This is a battle we must win," Valera affirmed, her voice firm but with a flicker of hesitation. "With our forces—nearly one hundred thousand Accelerators, eight Mystic Accelerators, and our superweapons—defeat should be impossible. Unless..." She paused, momentarily haunted by the thought of a devastating loss.

Sensing her wavering confidence, the commander responded with an unshakable conviction, his words laced with both reassurance and authority:

"True, the tides of war can always shift unpredictably. However, I—Supreme Commander Razor Wardenholf, leader of humanity’s forces and head of the Wardenholf clan—will lead our species to victory. We will annihilate these invaders. Prepare yourself, Valera. At dawn, we march."

Valera saluted sharply and exited the office. Razor, left alone, sank into his chair, lit a cigar, and closed his eyes—his mind clouded with memories of what this relentless war had stolen from their world.

The Resistance Base – 4/7/2893 – 3:00 AM

"Good morning, Mystic Accelerators and Company Commanders," Valera announced, her voice ringing through the operations room. "Today, we launch our assault on Alsma’s last stronghold on Ather. This is our chance to end the war, to secure peace for humanity—and the universe."

The room, filled with cutting-edge technology and tactical displays, housed eight Mystic Accelerators, sixteen Company Commanders, and Valera—field secretary and bodyguard to the Supreme Commander. Each warrior radiated a powerful, commanding presence. Conversations buzzed around the room, thick with anticipation.

In a shadowed corner, Vasto leaned casually against the wall, his eyes distant as he contemplated the battle ahead.

"Hey! Snap out of it, First Company Commander—Vasto Halkinger," a voice called out. Lumiere, a Mystic Accelerator, approached with a smirk. "We’ve got a war to win. Focus up."

Vasto, his golden hair catching the room's dim light, replied with a lopsided grin:

"Easy for you to say, Lumiere Wardenholf. With your power, wiping them out should be a breeze."

Lumiere’s emerald gaze swept the room before meeting Vasto’s. "I won’t deny that," he said evenly. "The Mystic Accelerators are formidable." His voice grew somber. "But strength alone won’t win this war. We must keep a cool head."

He paused before adding, "And honestly… those words of confidence should be for the other seven Mystic Accelerators. Personally, I feel like I’ve yet to reach their level. Without unlocking Atheria’s Mystique, I…"

A gentle but sharp gaze from across the room stopped him mid-thought. Lumiere turned and met the eyes of a familiar figure—one whose expression carried both challenge and belief.

"Don’t sell yourself short, Lumiere," Vasto cut in, his tone both teasing and sincere. He draped an arm over Lumiere’s shoulder with a hearty laugh. "You’re one of the few I’d bet my life on. Compared to the others, you’re anything but ordinary."

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"Think about it—no Atheria’s Mystique, and you’re still top among the Mystic Accelerators. Imagine what you'd become if you unlocked your full potential." Vasto gave him a firm pat on the back. "You’re more than you realize."

Before Lumiere could respond, a sharp, commanding voice interrupted their exchange:

"Attention! The Supreme Commander is entering!" Valera announced.

The room snapped to order as the towering figure of Razor Wardenholf strode in. Each step of his was slow but heavy with authority. There were no medals on his chest—only the battle-worn combat suit that hugged his massive frame, his muscular form a testament to countless battles fought.

His mere presence seemed to thicken the air with raw power. With a subtle gesture, he signaled for everyone to take their seats around the central table, where a holographic map of the enemy stronghold glowed above the surface—every detail painstakingly compiled from reconnaissance reports.

Razor’s voice broke the silence, deep and resonant:

"First, let me say how honored I am to see you all here—those who have stood with me since the first strike against Alsma. We have fought, bled, and survived together. Let’s give ourselves a round of applause for making it this far."

A wave of applause and shared pride filled the room. Despite their power, they all knew how close the specter of death had come for each of them.

Razor’s tone grew weighty and sharp:

"Today, we finalize our plan to obliterate Antartika Point—the last Alsma stronghold. This battle will decide the fate of this millennium. We fight not just for victory, but to ensure future generations live free from fear."

The murmurs of the room hushed as Valera stepped forward. The holographic display shifted, casting a detailed projection of the fortress onto the table. Lumiere’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locking on the model.

Valera’s voice was steady and clear:

"Antartika Point—a fortress city built by Alsma at the war’s onset. Its defenses consist of three concentric zones: Zone A, Zone B, and Zone C."

She continued briskly, her tone sharp with precision:

"Zone A is the outer perimeter. It’s fortified with heavy artillery, electromagnetic pulse barriers, and a seventy-meter-high wall. Troop deployments are heavily concentrated at key nodes to maximize crossfire coverage."

A whistle broke the tension—a company commander murmured in disbelief, "Seventy meters? Might as well be a damn mountain."

Valera pressed on:

"Zone B houses Alsma’s mechanized forces—fully autonomous war machines requiring no direct control. This zone features Valori Cannons and disintegration beams, capable of shredding any armored unit. It’s enclosed by a ninety-meter-tall electromagnetic barrier."

The tension in the room grew taut. Lumiere’s jaw tightened. Razor remained motionless, but his fist clenched subtly atop the table.

"And finally," Valera concluded, her voice cold and sharp, "Zone C—the central stronghold. The heart of Antartika Point. It is encased by an ice wall over one hundred and twenty meters high, and the city lies seven hundred meters underground. The enemy’s elite forces are stationed here, prepared for a last stand."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the magnitude of the challenge looming over them.

Then Razor spoke—his voice like thunder rumbling through the chamber:

"They're ready for hell. Good. Let's give it to them. Continue."

Valera nodded and transitioned to their offensive capabilities:

"We have one hundred thousand soldiers organized into sixteen divisions, commanded by the eight Mystic Accelerators. The enemy has seven thousand Gemini Wardens. If they activate their replication abilities, we could face up to twenty thousand opponents."

A concerned voice broke in, laced with doubt:

"Twenty thousand? Behind those walls? How do we break through that?"

Valera’s lips curled into a faint, almost dangerous smile. She pressed a control, and two new holograms materialized—Proton Accelerator and Chronosphere.

"With these," she stated. "Allow me to explain."

Her voice carried pride as she described the Proton Accelerator:

"Centuries ago, humanity forged the Proton Accelerator—The Destroyer of Planets. The original model was a brute-force weapon of cataclysmic power. Now, enhanced with Valorinium technology, it exceeds light-speed projection, triggering uncontrollable chain reactions over vast areas."

A tense silence followed her words. Uneasy glances flickered between commanders—some with awe, others with apprehension.

"And the Chronosphere?" another voice inquired.

Valera’s reply was swift:

"A perfected version of the Teleportation Device. Its flaws, which once prevented organic matter from teleporting, have been resolved. With it, we can transport entire battalions instantly."

The room's tension eased slightly, though not all were convinced.

From the shadows, a voice—deep, defiant, and unshaken—rose to challenge:

"I object."

All eyes turned. Standing tall, his voice weighted with authority, was Josep Nicaracua, Commander of the Tenth Division. His eyes met Valera’s with a fierce, unyielding gaze.

"This plan sounds bold," Josep declared. "But can we trust its effectiveness? These weapons have failed before. I won’t let my soldiers be sacrificed for a gamble."