Two weeks ago

The briefing room was as cold and calculated as the people who filled it, and I stood at its center, facing my superiors with the same unwavering composure I’d honed over years of command.

The air hummed with the soft buzz of holographic screens, each one flashing data and tactical information that, for now, I chose to ignore. My focus was on the man standing before me, a high-ranking member of the Core's Executive Council.

His angular features, sharp as the edges of the room itself, were accentuated by his pale, almost ashen complexion. His hair, a stark white, was combed back meticulously, giving him an air of cold, calculated precision. Piercing dark eyes, framed by thin, silver spectacles, seemed to dissect me with every glance, his expression one of perpetual scrutiny. His words were sharp, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"Commander Andras," he began, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, "the mission we’re assigning to you is of critical importance. An artifact of significant power has been located in the borderlands. It’s imperative that we secure it before the Arcanists do."

I kept my expression neutral, but my mind was already dissecting the information, weighing the risks and potential outcomes. "What do we know about this artifact?" My voice was calm, controlled, as it always was in these situations.

"Details are classified. What we do know is that it’s ancient, linked to the energy fields both we and the Arcanists tap into. If harnessed correctly, it could significantly enhance our technological capabilities or cripple theirs."

Classified. Of course. It’s always classified until they need someone to clean up the mess. But I nodded, letting none of my thoughts show. "What kind of resistance are we expecting?"

"Heavy," he said, his tone grave. "Maelor may be leading the Arcanist team."

Maelor. The name alone was enough to make most men hesitate. Not me. I’d heard the stories—a Durath who commanded the elements with the ease most men wielded a sword. A giant of a being, nearly 2.3 meters tall. He was more than just a leader; he was a legend. But legends could be defeated. They just needed the right strategy.

"Understood," I said simply. No need for anything more. My mind was already turning over the possibilities, the strategies we’d need to employ. There was no room for error here, and I wouldn’t allow for any.

"Dismissed," the superior said, and I saluted sharply before turning on my heel and leaving the room.

As I walked through the corridors of the Core, the familiar sounds of machinery and the distant hum of energy fields surrounded me. This was my world. A world of cold metal, sharp edges, and absolute control. But the mission ahead would take us far from the comfort of the Core, into a place where those certainties would be tested.

My team was ready, of course. They always were. Elite soldiers, each one handpicked for their skill and unwavering loyalty. As I entered the room, they snapped to attention in perfect unison, their hands raised in a sharp salute. "Commander," they intoned in a single, disciplined voice, the synchronization flawless, exactly as I expected from the best the Core had to offer.

I returned the salute, a brief but firm nod, acknowledging their readiness. "At ease," I commanded. They relaxed slightly but remained focused, eyes locked on me, waiting for the briefing.

"We've been handed a mission of critical importance," I began, my tone measured but with a touch of warmth—just enough to remind them that this was more than just another assignment. "The Lunar edge. Where the raw magic of Aether meets the precision of our technology. This is where we'll find the artifact—a relic that could tip the balance of power in our favor. The Arcanists will be there, and they won't give it up without a fight."

I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. Each of them knew what was at stake, but it was my job to ensure they were not just prepared, but motivated. "We've faced them before, and we've prevailed. This time will be no different. We move in, secure the artifact, and return before they even know what's hit them. Remember, the Core depends on us. We are the shield that guards our people, and we will not fail."

Their expressions were resolute, a reflection of the confidence I had in them. "Stay sharp, follow the plan, and watch each other's backs. Dismissed."

They dispersed, falling into step behind me without a word as we made our way to the transport. Silence was our language. Unspoken, but understood by all. These were men and women who had seen more than their share of battles, and they knew what was at stake.

The journey to the borderlands was uneventful, giving me time to review the mission details once more. The Lunar Edge was a land of stark contrasts, where ancient trees with roots like twisted veins rose from the earth, and the ruins of a forgotten era hinted at a past long buried beneath the soil. This was where we would find the artifact, if we could wrest it from the grasp of the Arcanists.

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We reached the edge of the forest as dusk settled in, the remaining light casting long shadows across the landscape. I signaled the team to halt. The terrain ahead was rugged, dotted with the remnants of structures that had once stood proud but were now little more than crumbling stone and fading memories. The recon drones moved silently above, feeding data back to my visor. The area was clear for now.

I drew my energy blade, its hum a familiar and comforting sound in the stillness. It wasn’t just a weapon; it was an extension of my will, capable of cutting through both the physical and the magical. It had seen me through more battles than I cared to count, and it would see me through this one.

I advanced, guiding the team with the steady confidence built from years of experience. Every step was calculated, every movement deliberate. There was no room for error. We were deep in disputed territory, and the Arcanists could be lying in wait at any moment.

My visor pinged—a signal from the drones. Movement ahead. I raised a fist, signaling the team to halt again. I scanned the area, and there, emerging from the shadows of the ruins, was a figure I recognized immediately. Maelor.

Even from this distance, he was an imposing sight. Tall, with skin that looked like ancient bark and eyes that seemed to glow with an inner fire. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of. And he wasn’t alone. His team was with him, Arcanist elites, each one a master of their craft.

I didn’t hesitate. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Maelor’s eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, we simply stared at each other. Two commanders, each weighing the other, calculating strengths and weaknesses.

"Commander Andras," Maelor said, his voice deep and resonant. There was no animosity there, just the calm confidence of a man who had faced down more threats than he could count. "The Core never tires of its pursuits, does it?"

"Nor do the Arcanists," I replied evenly. "But let’s not pretend we’re here for any reason other than what lies within these ruins."

His lips curled into a slight smile, a gesture that held no warmth. "Indeed. The artifact. A dangerous thing to leave in the hands of those who don’t understand its power."

"Spare me the lectures. Power is dangerous only to those who don’t know how to wield it."

The pressure between us was almost tangible, the kind that could snap into violence at any moment. My team was ready, as was his. There was no need for words now, we both knew what was coming.

Maelor tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. “You’ve always been a man of action, Andras. But have you considered the consequences? What happens when you take something you don’t fully grasp?”

“I’m not interested in philosophical debates,” I shot back. “We both know the value of what’s here. And we both know that neither of us is walking away empty-handed.”

A murmur went through Maelor’s team, a subtle shift of energy that I didn’t miss. They were as disciplined as my own, but there was an underlying edge to them, a readiness that mirrored our own.

One of Maelor’s subordinates stepped forward—a tall, slender figure with pale skin, so translucent that the dark veins beneath were clearly visible. His eyes glowed a deep red, and the air around him buzzed with barely restrained magic. A Blood Mage. Dangerous, but not invincible.

“You Technomancers think your machines can solve everything. But some things are beyond your cold, calculated reach,” he said, his tone calm yet laced with the kind of arrogance that often preceded a fall.

My second-in-command, Lieutenant Harkin, responded with a quiet but firm tone, “And you Arcanists think that just because you manipulate elements, you’ve mastered the world. We’ve adapted. We’ve thrived. Don’t mistake our methods for weakness.”

The tension ratcheted up another notch, and I could sense my team bracing for the inevitable. Each of them was a professional, trained not just to follow orders, but to think, to adapt, to challenge when necessary. That’s what made them the best.

Maelor didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the silence stretch, testing our resolve. His gaze flicked to his team, then back to me. “Your people are well-trained, Andras. They speak with conviction. But conviction alone won’t protect them from what’s to come.”

I allowed myself a small smile. “Neither will blind faith. We’ve each chosen our path, Maelor. Let’s not pretend there’s room for both.”

Maelor’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his voice dropped to a near-whisper, though it carried enough weight to be heard by all. “This isn’t just about us, Commander. It’s about balance. And once that balance is tipped, there’s no going back.”

One of my soldiers, Sergeant Cale, adjusted his stance, the faint hum of his kinetic dagger activating subtly, a signal not missed by Maelor’s team. But they didn’t flinch. They remained as still as statues, though I could see the flickers of elemental energy pulsing just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest provocation.

“We’ve balanced on this knife’s edge long enough,” I said, my voice firm. “The time for words is over. It’s time to see who’s truly prepared for what lies ahead.”

Maelor’s expression hardened, the last vestiges of diplomacy slipping away. “Very well, Commander. But remember, once this begins, there’s no turning back.”

A palpable ripple went through both teams, a silent acknowledgment that the moment of decision had arrived. Each soldier on both sides, though prepared for this eventuality, felt the weight of what was about to unfold. But there was no fear, only the cold, steely focus of warriors who knew their duty.

“We never turn back,” I said.

A slight nod from Maelor was all the warning we had before the air between us crackled with energy. No further words were needed; the battle lines had been drawn. Both teams were on high alert, but there was a mutual respect in the way they moved—measured, precise, no wasted motion, no hesitation.

Even as the first sparks of magic and technology collided in the space between us, I could see in Maelor’s eyes the understanding that we were not just commanders leading troops, but representatives of our respective worlds. This confrontation wasn’t merely about an artifact, it was about the future balance of power.

But neither he nor I would back down. That wasn’t in our nature.

Just before the chaos truly erupted, I caught Maelor’s final words, spoken so only I could hear, “Let’s see if you’re as prepared as you think you are.”

And with that, the clash began.