Chapter 1 Dark Crusade
Somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains, 2398 AD. A villager hauled goods in a horse-drawn wagon, the landscape a patchwork of nature reclaiming what was left of the old world. Car wrecks, repurposed as fences or piled high like scrap-metal sculptures, dotted the hills. Ziplines crisscrossed the valleys, used for everything from transporting goods to ferrying children to the makeshift school, where lessons focused on survival: archery, cooking, self-defense, and how to spot a mutation before it sprouted extra limbs.
It was like all those stories about when civilizations crumble—Sumer, Rome, and all that Dark Age stuff—except this time, the crumbling came with a radioactive aftertaste.
A giant drone hummed overhead, carrying passengers to a nearby military base. A Hind helicopter and a few armored vehicles sat in the hangar, gleaming under the morning sun.
A man dismounts from the drone, stretching his arms. He’s wearing a worn leather jacket and has long, wavy hair. Flanking him is a group of people in dark cloaks and mismatched military gear—these are the Wanderers.
Alam strides into an office, passing recruits training with bows and gunpowder in the field, while officers simulate warfare scenarios in virtual reality rooms.
He reaches the top floor, where a glass hall offers a stunning view of the mountain peaks, their snow-capped summits glistening in the sunlight. He pauses for a moment, taking in the scene—the scattered remnants of civilization, the distant crackle of gunfire from the training grounds. This is the Wanderers' domain now, he thinks, feeling a mix of pride and responsibility wash over him. But ruling can get boring. I need some action to keep from getting rusty.
He entered a private office, the walls lined with maps and tactical displays. A woman stood by the window, her back to him. She wore a black veil that concealed her face, but her posture was rigid, almost tense. Only the pale skin of her hands and the crimson glow of her enhanced eyes, visible through the thin fabric of the veil, were visible.
Carmelita turned as Alam entered, a slow, deliberate movement that seemed to assess him from head to toe. A faint smile played on her lips, barely visible beneath the veil. “Well, well,” she drawled, her voice laced with amusement. “If it isn’t the man who stole my job… and my heart. Though I’m not sure which was the greater theft.” She paused, her red eyes twinkling. “You are interesting, that’s undeniable. Though sometimes I wonder if ‘interesting’ is just another word for ‘troublesome’.”
“I'm always interesting,” Alam replies, walking up behind her and giving her a hug.
Carmelita gasps softly. “A clingy one, eh?” she smirks, her lips visible through the semi-transparent veil.
“Yep. I’m tired of all the shenanigans around here. How about we expand to the east?” Alam suggests.
“Hm…” Carmelita ponders. “The East… They say the land beyond the Don holds remnants of the old world’s ingenuity, lost technologies… and its follies.” A sly smile played on her lips. “Perhaps a journey to the past is what you need.”
“Follies? I’ve heard about of pre-war tech. That’s what we need to rebuild, to truly secure our future.” Alam replies.
“The past is a dangerous place, Alam. It offers both solutions and warnings. Some doors are best left unopened.” Carmelita warns.
she ponders for a moment. “We can try expanding east, but I think we need a new member for that,”
“Do we have a poor state right now?” Alam asks.
“We have enough budget but not enough manpower. We need at least 10-20 new members for expansion,” she replies, checking a file on her table. “Maybe one or two of them will bring some money too. Do you have candidates in mind?”
“Twenty? We need a hundred! Hehe,” Alam jokes.
“Hundred? Do we have enough room and equipment for them?” she asks, smirking again. “Alright, a hundred it is, but you better find someone who will bring in more money. I don’t want to burden our economy. Can you do that?”
“We can sell our latest loot, but of course, we should only sell our light arms… or just mold them into farm tools,” Alam suggests.
“Farm tools, huh? That’s an interesting idea. We can sell them at a cheaper price but in larger quantities. Not a bad idea,” she grins wider. “We can also use that loot as a reward to attract some worthy recruits. This is great! But first, let me see the loot, and then I’ll determine the price we should sell.”
Alam breaks the hug and raises his eyebrows. “But seriously, are we poor? Is there corruption? I thought we were rich now,” he pouts.
Carmelita chuckles at his expression. “We’re not poor, but we’re not rich either. We’re in a medium state. We can’t just say, ‘Oh, we won the war against the Yellow Nation, so we have lots of money to throw around.’ We need to use it wisely. There’s still some corruption here and there, after all.”
“Hm… I wonder why they forbid AI tech. We need that to track our expenses,” Alam muses.
“AI tech was forbidden because it’s too risky. AI is smart, but too smart for us to control, and there’s a chance it could rebel against us. We still don’t know if it would do good or bad,” she sighs. “You really like high tech, huh? What’s with this obsession with AI and machines all of a sudden?”
“It’s not like I’m a technocrat. I’m just pragmatic. Humans are naughty creatures. They need… constant reminders,” Alam winks. “Plus, it’s not like they’re going to take over us like in Terminator, you know?” alam then wiggle his eyebrows
“Humans are naive and foolish, I agree. But I still don’t like the idea of letting machines rule us. I’m not religious, but I trust humans to rule ourselves,” she replies with a smirk. “Maybe if we use some AI for calculating expenses and other non-important things, I’ll think about it. you can convice me easily you know”
Alam grins. “What do you mean I convince you easily?”
“You’re a good persuader. With your words and your act, it’s like you just make puppy eyes and pout,” she chuckles. “And you’re kinda cute in my eyes, which makes it easier to convince me than others.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Yes! I will conquer the world with my cuteness… and bullets! Hehe,” Alam declares.
“You forgot your charm point, you know,” she says, looking at him with an amused expression. “Do you think only cuteness and bullets will make you succeed? You really underestimate people’s lust. Charm is a very important weapon for seduction.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever. Just bring me a hundred men for the next campaign… please,” Alam pleads.
“Hmmm, alright, but first you need to promise me one thing,” she smirks.
“What? Say it, woman,” Alam replies.
“You have to spend time with me~,” she says with a sly smile. “After our success in getting a hundred men, you have to accompany me somewhere.”
“Nyooohhhhhhh!” Alam exclaims.
“Awww, what’s that? Don’t like spending time with me?” she pouts. “I think you enjoy it when we’re alone and intimate~.”
Timeskip. Alam, now with his hundred warriors, is ready to embark on their new journey. He checks his intercom, studying the eastern map. The land is shrouded in mystery, possibly even home to mutants, but his goal is clear: to find valuable pre-war tech for his people.
The Wanderers set off in their buggies, Mad Max-style cars, and military-grade armored vehicles, passing through villages and towns. As they roll by, the locals cheer for them. The people see the Wanderers as protectors against the bandits and aggressive warlords that once roamed the region. Now, they feel free from tyranny.some villagers offer them food or express their gratitude.
Despite this newfound freedom, the region is still recovering from the devastation of World War III and the EMP collapse. With electric generators and nuclear reactors failing, people have turned to windmills and biogas for energy. Gasoline has become scarce and expensive, but the locals remain hopeful that one day, they’ll reclaim their glory days.
To the west, the Wanderers faced the Yellow Nation, a powerful nomadic group led by Bayarl Khan. Equipped with armored trains and remnants of NATO ground forces, they held a significant advantage in both numbers and technology. Only the Carpathian Mountains, Carpathia's natural fortress, kept them at bay. Even with the current truce, border skirmishes were frequent, fueled by the Yellow Nation’s ingrained “eye for an eye” mentality and long-simmering clan feuds for generations.
For now, Alam knew the region was unstable. In his mind, true power came from a combination of economic strength and technological advancement. One fueled the other. Conquest was the only way to secure both.
Reaching the Don River, Wanderers tested the water for radiation. The readings were low—a sign of the land slowly healing. One of them filled a purification bottle, watching the water steam and condense before taking a cautious sip. “Clean,” he announced. “We’re good for water heading east.”
From atop his armored vehicle, Alam lowered his Red Nation-made binoculars. They were a gift, but also a reminder of their dependence. The Wanderers needed to become self-sufficient, to control their own destiny.
Beyond the river lies the eastern wasteland—a harsh winter landscape inhabited by aggressive people but rich in resources and treasures from pre war bunkers. It’s the perfect place for someone like him, always looking for the next adventure.
“Alright, Wanderers! Let’s go conquer this land!” Alam raises his sword toward the horizon, rallying his troops for the journey ahead.
They were trying to find a way to cross the Don River, but most of the bridges were destroyed. Just when it seemed like they were out of luck, they stumbled upon a tribe guarding one of the remaining bridges. The tribe was armed with old AKs, and an APC without wheels was parked nearby, serving as a static defense.
Alam approached the bridge, his armored vehicle rumbling to a halt. The old man with the beard straightened, his eyes widening slightly as he saw Alam. A faint sigh escaped his lips.
“Alam,” the old man greeted, his voice tinged with weariness. “Always pushing your luck, aren’t you?”
“We’re going to cross the bridge,” Alam declared.
The old man with the beard, who seemed to be the leader of the group, stepped forward. “Ah, Alam. Looking for conquest, are you? Have you never heard the legend of the White Witch beyond this river?”
Alam snorted. “I’ve killed a lot of witches in the past,” he smirked. “I don’t fear anything.”
The man shook his head. “You don’t understand. Beyond the dark woods, mutants and supersoldiers guard the White Witch. You’ll lose your men... even Bayarl Khan fears this land.”
“Good! Then I’ll make history by conquering this place,” Alam grinned,
The man shook his head again. “This is no ordinary witch. She is the embodiment of the past’s hubris, the price of tampering with what should have been left alone. Her guardians are not mere beasts, but reflections of the consequences.”
alam just blinked several times. and unfazed
The old man sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You always were one for grand pronouncements. Well, I suppose nothing I say will change your mind. The toll for the bridge is one credit per man.”
Alam nodded. "Consider it a down payment. I'm also looking to hire a few good fighters. A thousand credits for those willing to join me."
The old man’s eyebrows shot up. He exchanged a few quick words with his tribesmen in their own language, then turned back to Alam. “A thousand, eh? You’re serious. Alright. I can recommend some of the younger lads. They're itching for a bit of excitement. It's not about the money," he added, a glint in his eye that suggested otherwise.. "It's… well, you did help us out with those bandits a while back. We don’t forget that.”
After a short wait, a group of young men arrived, carrying a mix of bolt-action rifles and AKs. The old man clapped one of them on the shoulder. “Go with Alam. He’ll keep you out of too much trouble… hopefully.”
Alam nodded, a confident smile spreading across his face. “Wise move. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they return to their families and wives…” He glanced at the young men, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “...and future wives. Plenty of adventure to be had before then.”
The Wanderers and their new tribal allies crossed the bridge, passing through abandoned towns and cities. The atmosphere was serene and peaceful, birds chirping in the woods. So peaceful, in fact, that Alam almost started to think this whole “conquest” thing was going to be a relaxing vacation.
They reached a clearing near the edge of the dense woods, forming a standard defensive circle with their armored vehicles. Tents sprung up within, fires were lit, and the combined group settled in for the night, That thought lasted precisely until sunrise.
A commotion jolted him awake. He burst from his tent to find a vehicle ablaze, other Wanderers scrambling with buckets and anything else they could find to douse the flames threatening the nearby tents.. “What the fuck!” Alam exclaimed, throwing his arms up in confusion.
Once the fire was finally put out, Alam and his officers assessed the situation. Jax, a bulky man with right mechanical arm, reported, “Sir, we lost 7 Wanderers and 4 tribesmen. 6 others are still missing. One light vehicle is out of action, and the attackers are unknown. All the victims had their throats cut. It’s like a beast did this.”
Alam rubbed his forehead in frustration. “We already scanned this area with drones. Let’s use thermal and infrared drones to locate the attacker.”
While mechanics jury-rigged the new tech onto a drone, Alam watched the grim task of burying the dead in a shallow grave. He grimaced at the deep claw marks on the victims. Definitely not your average woodland creature.
By midday, the enhanced drone returned, revealing hidden bunkers in the woods. And tracks. Lots of tracks. A mix of wolf and bear prints, but… bigger. Much bigger.
“Good. We’re going on the offensive,” Alam declared. “Order our men to arm themselves with makeshift spears, bayonet attachments or anything pointy for their rifles. We’re going to hunt the skinwalkers.” He frowned as he looked at the map,
By afternoon, the Wanderers had the target area surrounded. It was a makeshift base of some kind, a bunker hunkered down amidst overgrown barbed wire and the skeletal remains of abandoned warehouses. The lengthening shadows were starting to give the place an eerie feel.
“We must finish this before night falls. Get moving, men!” Alam ordered as he took his place in the second line. As they got closer to the bunker door, Suddenly, a flash of white erupted from the bunker’s dome. A massive white tiger, easily twice the size of a normal tiger, landed with a resounding thump, its claws scraping against the metal.
A collective gasp swept through the Wanderers. Before they could fully react, a low growl rumbled from behind the tiger. A wolf, equally massive and clearly mutated, its fur matted and scarred, emerged onto the dome, its eyes glowing with a feral intensity. The sheer size of the creatures—their muscles bulging, their teeth bared—made it clear they were far from natural.
“Fuck... mind-controlled animals,” Alam muttered.
“Do we attack, sir? Or flee?” one Wanderer stammered, clearly rattled by the sight. Alam was momentarily stunned.
the wolf leaped from the dome, landing among the front line of Wanderers. The tiger followed, its powerful legs propelling it forward. “Attack!” Alam shouted, snapping back to reality.
Gunfire erupted as the wolf lunged at one of the Wanderers. A bayonet struck the wolf in the chest, and the tribesmen and Wanderers formed a shield wall to fend off the beasts while others picked them off with their rifles.
As the sky darkened, all the beasts were finally killed. Alam took a deep breath, checking his rifle magazine. “We’re not done yet. Set a perimeter around the bunker, and the rest follow me to explore inside!”
A loud bang echoed as the bunker door blew inward, dust and debris raining down. They entered the damp corridor, the air thick with the smell of mildew and something… else.
Alam found a room filled with monitors and ancient computer terminals. His mechanic,, quickly got to work, bypassing the security protocols. The screens flickered to life, revealing a network of cameras within the bunker and, more disturbingly, connections to a hidden lab. Alam grinned. “Jackpot.”
But his expression quickly turned to a frown as he noticed the twisted experiments taking place. Security cameras in the lab showed some Wanderers and tribesmen who had gone missing, lying on beds while mechanical arms ravaged their bodies. Another camera displayed animals undergoing brain surgery.
“Fuck... we... we will kill them all,” Alam said, his eyes filled with anger as he saw a woman in the lab casually eating cake beside a dead body from the experiments
alam clap his forehead. trying calm himself. he take a long breath and out. a forced smile on his face. “Well, then,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “Looks like someone’s been very, very naughty.”