The New Year’s party pulsed below, a riot of colors and laughter spilling into the chilly night air of Xian. Alam stood on the balcony, taking in the dazzling scene: drones danced in the sky, creating choreographed movements that lit up the night, while a projector cast stunning 4D figures onto nearby buildings. Fireworks exploded in the background, painting the sky with vibrant colors—a truly spectacular sight.
but his mind was elsewhere. He spotted General Zhang, the stoic leader of the Wanderer Group, sitting alone in his office—a solitary figure amidst the chaos. With a mischievous grin, Alam tapped the intercom, sending a cue for the general to join him.
A moment later, the door creaked open. General Zhang stepped into the room, his brow furrowed in thought. The weight of the past year hung heavy on his shoulders, and he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.
“Hello, man. You working on another poem?” Alam asked, his voice light as he licked a cherry popsicle, the bright color contrasting his serious demeanor.
General Zhang paused, irritation flickering across his features. “No, I’m not writing any poems right now. I have something else on my mind.” He took a seat, his posture rigid, as Alam munched away, blissfully unaware of the tension.
Alam leaned forward, his expression shifting from playful to serious. “Alright. I want your honest opinion about the current situation.”
“From a military perspective,” General Zhang replied, his tone grave, “the situation is quite tense. The Red Army is gearing up for a major offensive, and we’re bracing ourselves for it. We’re confident in our abilities, but we can’t let our guard down. It’s going to be a tough battle.”
Alam’s brow furrowed as he chewed thoughtfully on his popsicle. “Do you think we have enough strength to hold out until the Crescent Alliance Army arrives?”
General Zhang inhaled deeply, his gaze steady. “Honestly? Right now, it doesn’t look good. The Red Army is larger and better equipped. If we can’t stop them soon, they’ll overwhelm us. The Crescent Alliance Army will come, but it could take weeks—maybe months.”
“Good,” Alam said, taking another bite. “Just yesterday, I heard the Sharing-la Confederation sent a... lone woman.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for General Zhang’s reaction.
The general’s interest piqued. “You mean the lone warrior they sent to support us? Yes, I heard about that. It’s an unusual move.”
“Yeah. I assigned her to maintain defense in Datong and conduct some raids. She’s done well so far, but now I’m more concerned about Sharing-la itself than the Red Army. Do you know what I mean?”
Understanding flashed in General Zhang’s eyes. “Oh, I completely get it. Sharing-la’s been unpredictable lately, especially with their aggressive expansion into Chinese territory. It’s definitely something we need to keep a close eye on.”
Alam chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Yeah, haha. I wonder what Zhuge Liang would do in this situation.” He winked, the reference to the great strategist hanging in the air like a playful challenge.
General Zhang couldn’t help but smile. “Indeed, he was one of the greatest strategists of all time. If he were here now, he might find a way to turn the tables in our favor.”
“Perhaps,” Alam said, a grin spreading across his face. “But he’s kinda been dead for like 3,000 years. It’s time for another Zhuge Liang to rise.”
Alam leaned back, swirling the melted remains of his popsicle. “You know,” he said, “this whole situation reminds me of the Three Kingdoms period. We’re caught between the Red Nation, like a powerful Wei, and the unpredictable Sharing-la, a Wu waiting to see which way the wind blows. We're Shu, holding on by our fingernails, hoping for an alliance.”
General Zhang’s eyes narrowed. “A fitting analogy. But Zhuge Liang couldn’t prevent the fall of Shu in the end.”
“True,” Alam admitted. “But he made them bleed for it. And his strategies are still studied centuries later. Maybe it’s time for a new Longzhong Plan.” (Longzhong Plan was Zhuge Liang's strategy for Liu Bei to take control of Jing Province and Yi Province and then unite with Sun Quan against Cao Cao)
General Zhang considered this. “So, you’re suggesting we focus on internal strength and seek strategic alliances?”
“Exactly. Just like Liu Bei with Sun Quan. We need the Crescent Alliance, but we can’t become dependent on them. We have to be strong enough to stand on our own.”
General Zhang sighed, a grin lingering on his lips. “Yes, finding someone with that level of genius isn’t easy. They don’t make them like they used to.”
Alam leaned back, offering General Zhang the popsicle. “Want one?, zhuge?”
Glancing at the bright treat but feeling the weight of the conversation, General Zhang shook his head. “Thank you, but I’m not in the mood for a popsicle right now.”
“Ah, come on! Are you sure you’re not writing a new poem? I’m actually a fan of yours.” Alam took a big bite, juice dribbling down his chin.
General Zhang chuckled softly, his annoyance fading. “No poems today. I’m surprised you’re a fan.”
“Your poems are short and honest. I like that,” Alam replied, his tone sincere.
As Alam looked out over the Bell Tower, he mused, “Conquering is easy. Defending is another story.”
General Zhang followed his gaze. “Indeed. Conquest is one thing, but holding the land is a different challenge altogether. The Red Army won’t give up easily. We’ll need to defend this city with everything we’ve got.”
“Yeah…” Alam clapped his hands together, shifting the mood again. “Anyway, why so gloomy? Do you have a wife?”
General Zhang chuckled, surprised by the abrupt question. “I’m not gloomy—just worried about the situation. As for a wife? No, I don’t have one.”
“Why not? I think many women would like a multi-talented man like you.”
“Not sure leading an army and facing death every day is very attractive,” he said, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. “Besides, I have high standards.”
“High standards? Like what?”
General Zhang’s smirk widened. “I want someone smart, who can challenge me intellectually. Independent and driven, with a passion for life. Beauty matters, but inner beauty is even more precious. And she has to be a fighter.”
Alam laughed, his eyes dancing. “Believe it or not, we’ve got many women warriors in our barracks.”
“Oh, I’m sure there are strong women in the Wanderer Group,” General Zhang said, intrigued, “but I’m looking for more than just physical strength. I want someone who can match me in all aspects.”
“What about my secretary, Fang? She’s a very strong woman,” Alam suggested, a teasing glint in his eyes.
General Zhang raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming. “That’s an interesting suggestion. She’s smart and capable. My interest is piqued.”
“Use your tactics fast, General. Women like that usually have someone waiting in the wings.”
General Zhang chuckled, glancing at Fang with newfound interest. “You’re right. I need to act before someone else snatches her away. She sounds like a unique woman.”
“Good luck with your hunting.” Alam patted him on the shoulder, a playful grin plastered on his face.
With a determined nod, General Zhang stood up, a new resolve coursing through him. As he left the office, he felt the weight of the world lift slightly, the festive sounds of the New Year’s celebration echoing in his mind.
meanwhile in other side of the world. the grid colosseum Los Angeles, California, the new year party is.. bit different. The air buzzed with anticipation, electric with the cries of countless participants flocking to the arena. This wasn’t just any game; it was a spectacle, a brawl for glory, and a chance to prove oneself in a world teetering on the brink. The Colosseum loomed large, a stark reminder of humanity's primal roots, where freedom and chaos danced an intricate tango.
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On the podium, Zion stood tall, a figure of authority amidst the swirling excitement. His voice cut through the din, resonating with a clarity that demanded attention. The crowd hushed, eyes fixed on him, a sea of faces eager for his words.
“Citizens of the free world!” Zion began, his tone resolute. “We stand on the cusp of a great adventure, one that will define our future. Our enemies seek to destroy the freedom and prosperity we have achieved. They want to drag us back to the dark days of oppression and tyranny!”
His voice swelled, fueled by the fervor of the crowd. “We cannot allow this to happen! We must unite and fight for our freedom, our sovereignty, our way of life! Let us rise up and face this challenge head-on! Together, we can win this war! Let us not let our adversaries dictate our future. Together, we will create a brighter world!”
The crowd erupted into applause, cheers echoing through the arena like thunder. Zion’s heart raced, the energy igniting a fire within him. But the thrill was short-lived, as the heavy metal band struck up a raucous tune, drowning the cheers in a cacophony of sound.
As the first gladiators entered the arena, Zion settled into his seat beside Kassandra, his sharp-eyed secretary, and a cadre of generals. Bloodsport was about to commence, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at the sight of combatants eager to prove themselves.
Kassandra leaned in, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You don’t want to get your hands dirty again, do you?”
Zion smirked, his gaze locked on the arena. “Tempting, isn’t it? But I think I’ll leave the bloodbath to the professionals.”
“Good choice,” Kassandra replied, her tone shifting to something more serious. “We lost many field officers in the winter war. After this game, we’ll recruit the gladiator winners to fill those gaps. So I hope you’re ready with your next speech.”
Zion nodded, still riveted by the chaos below. The idea of fresh blood mingling with his ranks intrigued him. He turned to Kassandra, ready to share his thoughts, when the game concluded and the arena fell silent.
Later, in the command room, Zion and Kassandra were joined by four figures—the Wardogs.
First up was Juggernaut, a hulking presence in a shiny silver exosuit, his bald head gleaming under the lights.
Next was Trickster, his skin a striking dark green, with hair split into two colors: white on the left and black on the right, giving him a mischievous look.
Then there was Weaver, dressed in the standard military garb of the Red Nation, a noticeable scar running down his cheek adding to his rugged appearance.
Finally, in the corner sat Wraith himself, his presence felt even in silence.
Kassandra shifted from playful banter to serious mode. “Sir, we intercepted a transmission from our agent in Red Nation territory. There’s been a breach at the gladiator training camp. Our assets have gone dark.”
Zion’s expression darkened, concern etched on his face. “What happened?”
Kassandra’s eyes narrowed, her voice steady. “Those assets were supposed to provide intel on troop movements and infrastructure upgrades. They’re valuable, and I’ll do everything I can to recover them.”
“Make it happen,” Zion commanded, his tone firm. “I want to know everything about this gladiator rebellion—who’s behind it and what their motivations are.”
Behind him, the Wardogs stood at attention, their faces masks of grim determination. Kassandra turned to them, her gaze unwavering.
“Understood, sir. We’ll launch an investigation immediately,” she assured him.
The lieutenants echoed in unison, “We won’t stop until we’ve identified the cause of this rebellion and neutralized the threat.”
Zion nodded, his mind racing with strategies. The rebellion posed a potential threat to the free world, and it had to be dealt with decisively. “Good. We need to act swiftly.”
As Zion exited the command room, Kassandra turned to the Wardogs. “What do you think?”
Weaver, the most cunning of the bunch, shrugged. “That gladiator rebellion is going to shake the whole Red Nation. Our assets will have to handle that mess one way or another.”
Trickster, ever the mischievous strategist, grinned. “A rebellion means opportunity. We can use this to our advantage.”
Wraith’s voice, a low rasp, echoed from the shadows. “Destabilization.”
Kassandra glared at Wraith and Trickster. “How can this be good for us? The gladiators are the backbone of their army!”
Trickster laughed, mischief glinting in his eyes. “If a gladiator rebellion can shake the Red Nation to its core Backbones break. Especially cracked ones.” He mimed a cracking sound. “A spark is all it takes.”
Kassandra crossed her arms, skepticism on her face. “I never know what’s going on in your heads, but Zion trusts you. So, I’ll leave this matter to you.”
Weaver nodded, his voice low and conspiratorial. “The Red Nation’s gladiators are tough, but they’re only human. After all the brutality they’ve witnessed, it’s no wonder they’re rising up. We need to turn the gladiators against their masters. Once we break their trust, the whole empire will start to fall apart.”
Kassandra raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re planning for a rebellion, are you?”
Weaver leaned forward. “They’re tired of being tools. We just need to… adjust their focus.”
Juggernaut nodded approvingly. “Clever. This way, we destabilize the Red Nation without risking our own elite forces.”
Wraith chimed in, “It’ll be slow work, but if we can convince enough gladiators to turn against their masters, it could trigger a chain reaction that brings down the entire empire.”
Kassandra remained quiet, contemplating the implications. “What happens after the Red Nation falls?”
Weaver’s smirk widened. “A new world order. Zion’s order. Pax Zionica. Finally, peace.”
Kassandra’s eyes narrowed. “Peace? By destroying one of the nations he leads?”
Weaver met her gaze, his confidence unwavering. “A necessary sacrifice for a greater future.”
Kassandra leaned forward. “Explain. Zion leads both the Khaganate and the Red Nation. How does destroying one benefit him?”
Weaver spread his arms. “The Red Nation is a tool. A buffer. But it’s also a liability. It dilutes Zion’s power. Without it…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
Kassandra’s skepticism was palpable. “No more Red Nation? That’s… revolution. Is that what Zion wants? We’re still struggling to fully integrate the Khaganate, and now you’re talking about dissolving the Red Nation too? It’s insane.”
Weaver’s smile faded, his tone sharpening. “Insane? Or strategic? Our intel is clear: the Red Nation is crumbling. The gladiators are just the first crack. This is our chance.”
Kassandra crossed her arms. “And the war in Asia? The True Horde? The Crescent Alliance?”
Weaver shrugged. “Distractions. While they’re focused on us, we’ll be dismantling the Red Nation from within.”
Kassandra rubbed her temples, a headache forming. “I still don’t see how this benefits Zion. He loses a massive army.”
Weaver leaned in, his voice low. “He loses a puppet army. He gains absolute control. No more divided loyalties. No more competing power structures. Just Zion.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “And those gladiator armies? They’ll be… repurposed.”
Kassandra’s eyes widened slightly. She finally understood. The Red Nation wasn't just being weakened; it was being absorbed. Its resources, its infrastructure, its soldiers—all would be folded into Zion’s personal power base.And Zion… he wouldn't be leading two nations anymore. He'd be leading an empire.
A few days later, the atmosphere in California Red’s command center was thick with tension. A red officer approached Zion. “Sir, a transmission from Xian. Alam requests a parley.”
Zion’s eyes narrowed. “Another gambit? Like Pompey before Pharsalus, he seems confident despite his weaker position. The Crescent Alliance is still weeks away.” He turned to Kassandra. “Accept the call.”
The monitor flickered, revealing Alam’s grinning face. “Happy New Year, Red Hair! Sleep well?”
Zion offered a tight smile. “And to you, Alam. Let’s dispense with the pleasantries.”
“Did you receive my New Year gift?” Alam asked, mischief dancing in his eyes.
Zion nodded slowly, recalling the unexpected gesture. “I did. It was thoughtful—unexpected. I appreciate the sentiment.”
Alam chuckled, his eyes glinting. “Do you like the thrill and hate in your body?”
Zion felt those emotions stirring again, but he maintained his composure. “I felt some of both, yes. Anger mainly towards you, not the gift itself.”
“Ahaha! Flattered! Good news, perhaps it’s not just a gift.” Alam winked, leaning in closer to the screen.
Intrigue flickered in Zion’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Take a look.” Alam gestured to the side, and the screen displayed a list of Blood Khaganate officers and generals. “Recognize them? Don’t say it—maybe you don’t. You see them as pawns.”
Zion scanned the names, a flicker of satisfaction warming his expression. “They think too much. They’ll fight you.”
Alam’s grin widened. “They probably overthink. Countless plans to counter your next move.”
“Are you aware of a potential rebellion?” Zion asked, his tone sharp.
“Indeed. How will you counter it?” Alam pressed, curiosity evident.
Zion’s answer was curt. “Identifying its leaders and base is the first step. Then a targeted attack to eliminate or capture key commanders. Disorient them, make them easier to deal with.”
“Classic. No emotion?” Alam teased.
Zion’s expression hardened. “No. My duty is to protect the free world. Countering threats like this rebellion is paramount. But my duty outweighs potential threats”
“You’re… weird. Tell me about your rise to power. How did you kill General Wu?” Alam’s tone shifted, curiosity piquing.
Zion met Alam’s gaze, his face an emotionless mask as he began his story. He recounted his days as a gladiator in the Blood Khaganate Empire, leading up to the fateful duel with General Wu, the leader of the Blood Khaganate army, then meet wraith and conquer north america
“Any feelings after taking his life?” Alam asked, his voice low.
Zion’s expression remained devoid of emotion. “It was necessary. The Blood Khaganate was built on violence and tyranny. Wu was a ruthless leader. Taking his life was the only way to ensure freedom for the Blood Khaganate and destroy the Empire.”
Alam leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Do we have to be ruthless too?”
Zion paused, weighing his thoughts. “There are similarities between the Blood Khaganate and the Red Nation,” he began, his voice steady. “Both are ruthless, bloodthirsty, obsessed with power and control. But the Blood Khaganate was born from harsh deserts and wastelands,
and in red nation., only the ruthless survive. We will build a society where loyalty is rewarded, and weakness is punished.”
Alam’s brow furrowed. “No, I’m not talking about nations. I’m talking about you. Do you think of yourself as ruthless?”
Zion contemplated the question, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire. Alam broke it with a chuckle. “If I talk about myself… yeah, perhaps I’m kinda ruthless.”
Zion couldn’t help but smile, impressed by Alam’s honesty. “And how about you, Red Hair?” Alam asked, his tone playful.
Zion’s smile widened, recalling their banter in the Colosseum. “I’m not ruthless like you, Alam. I’m more of a calculating and strategic leader.”
Alam raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I see. That’s precisely what a ruthless person would say.”
Zion laughed, the tension easing a notch as he appreciated Alam’s wit. “Touché.”
“Let’s do a truce,” Alam proposed suddenly. “Stop attacking me, and we’ll fight together against your rebellious general.”
Zion blinked, taken aback by Alam’s boldness. He fell silent, contemplating the implications of such an alliance. Admiration swelled within him for Alam’s straightforwardness. “So…” Alam prompted, his gaze unwavering.
“I agree,” Zion replied, his voice steady. “A truce may benefit us both in the short term. We can focus on dealing with the rebellious general and his forces. But let me be clear: this truce is temporary. Once the rebellion is dealt with, we will resume our conflict.”
Sniff “... okay, good enough,” Alam said,
“Then it’s settled. We’ll work together to address the rebellion, and we won’t attack each other during this time,” Zion affirmed.
Alam sniff,. “Yes, I guarantee the Wanderer and True Horde armies will stop killing your poor troops in the steppes.”
Zion nodded, the weight of the moment settling in. “I’ll trust your word on this. The free world forces will halt operations against the Wanderer and True Horde for now, as we focus on the rebellion. Afterward, we can resume our conflicts.”
“Very well,” Alam replied. “And one last thing... what’s your favorite food?”
Zion’s expression remained serious, but a playful spark ignited within him. “My favorite food? I really love steak. What about you?”
“Ahaha! A classic dictator food! You crave power and domination, don’t you?” Alam teased.
Zion smirked, enjoying the banter. “I do not crave power and domination. I seek to protect the free world from tyrants. Steak is just delicious and nourishing; it helps me maintain my strength.”
“I like chocolate cake and bitter coffee,” Alam said, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “I play hard and fight hard.”
Zion nodded, still grinning. “I see you enjoy things that excite and energize you. Chocolate cake gives you that sugar rush, and bitter coffee is a caffeine jolt. I can see how those fit your personality.”
“Very well... don’t die too quickly,” Alam said with mock seriousness. “I want to see you in prison.” Then the call ended, leaving Zion in contemplative silence.
His thoughts swirled with mixed emotions—amusement and a grudging respect for Alam’s blunt honesty. “A temporary alliance. Like Caesar and Pompey against the Senate. A convenient arrangement until one of us decides to betray the other.”
Kassandra broke the silence. “He’s… unconventional. A dangerous quality in an enemy.”
Zion's smile faded. "This truce is temporary. Once the rebellion is crushed, we'll remind the Khan who's in charge." He turned to Kassandra. "Our forces are positioned in Asia. The Strato Cannon is ready. A swift strike against the disloyal elements within the Red Nation, then we turn our full attention to the True Horde."
Kassandra frowned. "Identifying those 'disloyal elements' is the problem, sir. The Red Nation… it's not a homogenous force. We're talking about a dozen different cultures, religions, even ideologies crammed together. It's a powder keg."
Zion’s gaze drifted to the cityscape. "Diversity can be a strength," he mused, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.
"Or a weakness," Kassandra countered. "Foreign agents could exploit those divisions. Plant seeds of dissent. Turn them against each other, and against us."
Zion's jaw tightened. "Which is why we'll be watching them closely. Increased surveillance. Strict control of communications. Any hint of trouble, we'll squash it."
While the world watches us deal with our internal problems, we will consolidate our power.