Meanwhile, over in North America, Weaver was deep in strategy mode with the Wardogs, orchestrating the gladiator rebellion against the Red Nation. The rebels were picking up steam, taking over military bases and knocking off key officials—this uprising was becoming unstoppable. The grid Colosseum and other arenas had turned into brutal battlegrounds, showcasing some truly unspeakable chaos as the gladiators unleashed their fury.
“Is this what you wanted, sir?” Kassandra asked, her voice a mix of excitement and uncertainty as she reported to Zion.
Zion smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos unfolding. “Excellent news, Kassandra! The rebellion is gaining momentum, and the Red Nation’s forces are stretched thin. My plan to use Alam as a scapegoat is working perfectly!”
“But what’s the big plan?” Kassandra pressed, a frown creasing her brow.
“Ah, I haven’t revealed the grand finale yet,” Zion replied, his grin widening. “Once the uprising is in full swing and the Red Nation is in disarray, Alam will play a significant role.”
Kassandra raised an eyebrow, still unsure about the unfolding plot. “Many of our agents were captured by the True Horde. They failed to eliminate the warlord who’s flocking to Alam's banner.”
Zion’s expression turned serious. “It’s unfortunate, but Alam is ruthless. He’ll handle it.”
“And the Crescent Alliance’s main force has arrived, nearly matching the Red Army’s numbers—about 2 to 3 million,” Kassandra added, her voice tense.
Zion’s demeanor hardened as he processed the information. “We need to prepare for a clash. Our forces must be disciplined and ready.”
“So what’s the endgame for our rebellion against our own officials?” Kassandra asked, skepticism creeping into her tone.
Zion took a deep breath, ready to unveil his plans. “The rebellion isn’t just about freedom; it’s about dismantling the Red Nation entirely.”
Gasps filled the room, shock rippling through the officers, except for the Wardogs, who nodded in agreement. “Once I gain control, I’ll establish a stable government focused on peace and prosperity. We’ll pursue diplomatic relations to ensure regional stability,” Zion declared, his confidence radiating like a beacon.
Weaver nodded, impressed. “But reforming won’t be easy without dismantling existing power structures.”
Zion’s grin returned, determination shining through. “Dismantling those structures will be tough, but I’m all in for creating a better future. The potential gains outweigh the challenges.”
“And what about the Crescent Alliance and True Horde?” Kassandra questioned. “They won’t just stop attacking us because we change our government.”
Trickster chuckled “yeah. they not like going to stop because. upsy daisy, red nation is no more now. no more nation. dont stop attacking because we are the new government”
Zion’s confidence was unwavering. “I understand your concerns,” he told Weaver. “Changing the government doesn’t guarantee peace. But with the right… incentives, we can negotiate a mutually beneficial settlement.”
Weaver smirked. “Indeed. Diplomacy avoids bloodshed. And with the concept of ‘nation’… well, gone, our next conquests become… humanitarian interventions. A united world. A true holy war.”
Zion leaned back, a plan forming in his mind. The game is afoot. Every conquest needed a justification, a grand narrative. Leaders couldn’t simply invade without a pretext; people would resist. Zion’s plan was to dismantle the Red Nation and rebuild it in his image, framing his power grab as a necessary step towards a better future.
Later, after the gladiatorial games and the orchestrated outpouring of public anger against the old regime, Zion paraded through the streets, casting himself as the savior.
“People of the Free World!” he declared, his voice amplified across the city. “These corrupt officials bled us dry! They sent our ancestors to die in endless overseas wars! They promised social mobility, but inherited their wealth from their fathers! Today, true reform begins! Today, I break your chains!”
He raised his axe, beheading the last remaining government official in the arena. The crowd roared. Few understood that Zion had been a key architect of the very system he now condemned. He was merely shifting the blame, positioning himself as the liberator.
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In the grand colosseum, before a cheering throng, Zion raised his arms. “Citizens of the Free World! Today, we celebrate strength and ambition! Here, the weak will fall, and the strong will rise! Join me in forging a new order!”
The crowd erupted. Zion had masterfully manipulated their emotions, turning their anger and frustration into fervent support. This also allowed him to reshuffle his cabinet, replacing his old, unreliable vassals with loyal followers – killing three birds with one stone.
Among the Amazonian Praetorian Guard, Nara watched Zion’s performance, disbelief etched on her face. The people of the Free World were blind to the truth. From her vantage point, she saw the manipulation, the lies, the calculated rise of a new tyrant. The weight of this knowledge pressed down on her.
With his political rivals out of the way, he seized their assets and properties, consolidating his newfound power. He swiftly blacklisted any potential threats, cutting off their economic lifelines and forbidding them from trading. His message was crystal clear: no opposition allowed. Sure, capitalism promotes competition, but true capitalists only compete when victory is assured. Otherwise, they act like any good authoritarian government, blocking rivals at every turn.
Next on his agenda? The prisoners. In the Free World, prison culture was a grim reality, even before the ww3. Street kids were incentivized to commit petty crimes, forced into a life of lawlessness just to survive. Society turned a blind eye to the neglected, leaving them with no choice but to break the law for food. Once captured, they were thrown into prison factories, becoming forced laborers. Growing up in such harsh environments left them disillusioned.
But Zion had a plan. With his revolutionary card, he approached these individuals, offering them a chance to join his military. With nothing to lose and no one to return to, they agreed, ready to fight for a cause that promised them a new life.
After the successful revolution, Zion’s base had shifted from California to Canada, perched on the edge of a cliff that once belonged to an unknown billionaire. He was preparing for the impending World War IV, eyes fixed on the endless convoy crossing the bridge connecting Asia and America. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, and Zion seemed to thrive in it.
Just then, a cloaked woman approached him. Her striking green eyes, a result of implants, glinted with determination. It was Viper, a fellow Praetorian Guard who had recently risen through the ranks after winning a bloody arena tournament.
“My Siberian Vanguard is ready to move,” Viper announced, her voice steady. “We’ll wait until you clear our path with your cannon.”
Zion’s grin widened at the mention of the stratocannon. “Excellent! The cannon is deployed and clearing the way. Once we have a clear path, we’ll strike at the heart of the enemy’s weak points.”
“Are we doing a pincer move?” Kassandra chimed in, her brow furrowed with focus.
“Yes,” Zion replied decisively. “The Siberian Vanguard will attack from the north while the Wardogs spearhead the offensive from the south. This should exploit their defenses and secure a quick victory.”
The Wardogs nodded, their spirits high and ready to turn the tide of war.
“Let’s not waste any time,” Weaver urged. “Prepare to move on my command. We’ll execute this pincer maneuver perfectly and claim victory.”
With that, Viper left the room, passing by Nara, who was off duty. Viper stopped in front of her, a smirk playing on her lips. “You fought well in the last game. Why not become an officer like me, Nara? Why stick to being a useless bodyguard?”
Nara avoided her gaze, feeling the sting of Viper’s words. Viper laughed, a sound that echoed in the tense air. “Hah, never mind,” she said, leaving Nara alone with her thoughts.
Nara contemplated Viper’s taunt. The world felt like a whirlwind of chaos, and she was unsure of her place in it. She turned her attention to the monitor displaying a world map, animated with the Red Army’s movements as they sought to civilize the globe. Zion, Kassandra, and other figures of the Free World flashed across the screen.
She grasped the emblem patch on her shoulder, pulling it from her uniform. Maybe Viper was right. For someone like Zion, being just a bodyguard wasn’t enough to catch his attention. Since joining the Amazons, he hadn’t spoken to her at all. Perhaps if she became an officer like Panji, she could finally earn the recognition and attention she craved in the upcoming war.
With renewed determination, Nara resolved to prove herself. she walk toward the recruitment room, The chaos around her might be overwhelming, but she was ready to carve her own path and fight for her place in this new world.
Back in Northern China, the battlefield was a chaotic spectacle as the Crescent Alliance clashed with the Red Army. The scale of the conflict was massive and brutal. The revolution brewing in the Free World remained largely unknown to the Red Army soldiers on the front lines, their information heavily censored.
On one side, the Yellow Nation’s tanks faced off against the Red Army’s Buffalo tanks, two titans colliding like giants swinging frying pans until one of them exploded in a fiery display. Meanwhile, the Purple Nation’s gliders engaged in aerial dogfights with Red Army jets, creating a scene reminiscent of bees swarming a group of unsuspecting ducks, all at breakneck speed.
The two forces crashed together like tsunamis, and the death toll skyrocketed into the thousands within mere hours. White Nation Ai mechs charged onto the battlefield, attempting to flank the Red Army, but they were met head-on by Red Army gladiators equipped with implants, ready to intercept any threat.
In the chaos, a brigade of jetpack troops from the Pink Nation soared through the air, only to be met with flanking cannon fire. As they unleashed rockets and grenades, the firefight intensified, raising the temperature on the battlefield as explosions and fires consumed the wreckage around them.
The map of the region now resembled a patchwork of territories: the True Horde and Crescent Alliance held sway over modern-day China, while the Red Army dominated Mongolia and Siberia.
Bora observed the battle from a distance, her eyes glued to the holographic map displayed on her arm’s intercom. She was trying to process the unfolding situation, where both sides maneuvered like pieces on a chessboard, but with more than just two players involved.
Shaking her head at the scale of the slaughter, Bora couldn’t help but wonder why Alam was merely sitting back, seemingly doing nothing. A nagging thought crossed her mind—could Alam be considering a shift in allegiance as the Free World underwent its revolution? But her musings were interrupted when Li, one of the Wanderers, approached her position, joining her ranks to bolster the elite monk warriors. His presence was a clear indication that Alam remained committed to the war, even if he was currently a bystander due to the truce with Zion.
As the battle raged on, the neutral NWC—the black, orange and green nations, they watched the carnage unfold without picking a side. The Green Nation secretly sold weapons to the Crescent Alliance while sending mercenaries to the Red Army, all while hesitating to show their true colors. Meanwhile at tropic region orange nation are in civil war. both side is fight over the art and faith, people literally fight because a matter of taste and vibe.
and jump to middle east, scholars from the Black Nation debated which side to support, but instead of focusing on the war, they got sidetracked discussing old movies and games, weighing their merits from pre war era and philosophizing of why war its happen right now.
Only a few scholars dared to address the conflict in the media, questioning whether this was officially World War IV or just another unimportant war in history. But for the soldiers on the front lines, it was clear: this was indeed a world war. african and european fight shoulder to shoulder against asian-american foe in mongol steppes