Unknown Highway, New World.

1345 Hours 

The horizon was a smoldering line of crimson and black. Major Walken and Lieutenant Harris stood on the ridge, the acrid stench of burnt wood and scorched earth clawing at their throats. Beneath them, the forest burned—a sprawling inferno that devoured the ancient greenery without remorse. The heat shimmered in the air, distorting their vision, but nothing could mask the eerie silence beneath the crackling flames. 

Walken’s hand hovered near his sidearm, eyes narrowed. "What do you think, Harris? Natural disaster or something else?"

Harris glanced at him, his sweat-soaked face etched with uncertainty. "Feels off, sir. Droughts don’t create localized quakes. And the fire… it’s too precise, like it’s cutting a path." 

Walken nodded grimly, turning to Lieutenant Irma. "Have you informed Vega of this development?"

"I have, sir. Drone reinforcements are en route. Orders are to maintain observation and wait for backup."

Walken’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like waiting. "Lieutenant Harris, establish a defensive perimeter. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, but I don’t want any surprises." 

"Understood!" Harris saluted sharply and barked orders to his squad, who scattered to form a hasty line of defense. 

Walken strode to the TSF transport truck. The technician on duty, clad in oil-streaked overalls, saw him coming and gave a quick nod, already activating the loading sequence. With a whir and clank of machinery, Walken’s TSF—a towering, humanoid war machine—was erected. 

The cockpit enveloped him like a second skin as he climbed inside. The hum of systems powering up filled his ears, a reassuring symphony of weapon calibrations and AI diagnostics. The air conditioning blasted across his face, cooling the sweat that had begun to bead on his brow. 

"All Hunters, report." Walken commanded, his voice steady. 

"Hunter-2, all systems green."

"Hunter-3, locked and loaded! Give me a target!"

"Hunter-4, picking up movement near the fire line."

Walken’s heart thumped harder. "Lieutenant Da Qiao, what kind of movement?"

"Unknown, sir." Da Qiao replied, her voice tinged with unease. "Whatever it is, it’s massive. It’s causing tremors, but they’re localized to the flames."

Walken’s mind raced. A creature? A machine? He glanced at Harris, who was coordinating his men through his headset. 

"Harris, did you catch that?"

"Loud and clear, Major. My men aren’t equipped for large-scale engagements. We’ll hold perimeter but won’t engage unless necessary."

"Fair. Hunters, listen up: we’re here to investigate the cause of the fire and identify the entity inside. Stay sharp and don’t take unnecessary risks."

"Understood!" The squad chorused as their TSFs powered up and leapt into formation. 

The Hunter split into two wings. Walken and Irma took the right flank, their TSFs gliding effortlessly over the scorched terrain. The air was thick with ash, obscuring visibility despite their advanced sensors. 

"Movement confirmed." Irma reported. Her TSF veered closer to the edge of the blaze, scanning the inferno. 

"Stay in formation, Irma." Walken warned. 

"Copy that." She replied, but her curiosity got the better of her. She edged closer for a better look. 

Before Walken could reprimand her again, a lance of fire erupted from the flames, striking Irma’s TSF dead center. The impact sent her machine crashing to the ground with a deafening thud. 

"Irma! Damn it!" Walken roared. "Hunter-3, Hunter-4, do NOT approach the flames! Fall back and regroup!"

As his orders echoed across the comms, the inferno roared in defiance. A hurricane-force wind surged outward, extinguishing the fire in an instant but scattering the Hunters like leaves. Walken’s TSF slammed into the ground, his harness straining against the impact. 

The world spun as he regained his bearings. A distorted voice crackled over the radio. "Major… what the hell is that?"

Walken forced himself upright, his eyes widening at the sight before him. From the heart of the scorched forest, a gargantuan figure emerged. Its scales glistened like molten metal, each crimson plate edged with gold. Smoke and embers coiled around its body, and its glowing eyes burned with ancient fury. 

A dragon. Not a myth, not a legend—a living, breathing titan of destruction. 

The creature reared back, its massive wings unfurling like storm clouds, blotting out the sun. The earth trembled beneath its weight as it unleashed an ear-splitting roar that shook Walken to his core. Flames erupted from its maw, arcing into the sky like a volcanic eruption. 

"Everyone, report!" Walken barked, his voice struggling against the roar of the beast. 

Da Qiao’s voice came through, panicked but alive. "Sir, we’re all grounded. TSFs are functional but shaken. What’s the plan?"

Walken stared at the dragon, his mind racing. This was no ordinary mission anymore—it was a fight for survival. 

"Plan?" He gritted his teeth, gripping the controls. "We fight. Hunters, focus fire on the wings. We’re taking this thing down!"

The battlefield erupted into chaos as the Hunters unleashed their weapons. Missiles streaked through the air, railguns fired with deafening cracks, and plasma blades ignited with blinding light. The dragon roared in defiance, its flames meeting their assault head-on. 

For the first time in his career, Walken felt the weight of true fear—and the thrill of standing against something truly unstoppable.

Smoke still hung heavy in the air as the battlefield fell momentarily quiet. The scorched earth was marked by craters, molten slag, and the torn remains of trees. Major Walken’s TSF knelt in the ash, its gleaming armor dulled and scratched from the earlier inferno. The eerie silence was broken only by the crackle of residual flames and the faint hiss of cooling metal. 

"Hunter-4 here." Da Qiao’s voice crackled over the comms. "Leo’s TSF got banged up in the crash, but he’s on his way. He’ll be back in the fight soon."

Walken scanned the field, his HUD displaying scattered blue markers—the remnants of his squad. "Hunter-2! Report!"

"No need to yell, boss." Irma replied, her tone as sharp as ever despite the strain in her voice. "I’m fine, just cooked. My stealth paint’s completely stripped off from the fire, and I’m rebooting my system now." 

Walken grimaced. That meant only his TSF and Da Qiao’s were combat-ready. He flexed his fingers on the control sticks, running a quick diagnostic. The twin Assault Cannons gripped in his TSF’s mechanical hands were still operational, their ammunition reserves holding steady. That would have to do. 

“Hunter-4." He barked. "Deploy a smokescreen and provide backup. I’m moving in."

"Roger!" Da Qiao fired a barrage of smoke canisters. White plumes erupted across the battlefield, shrouding the dragon in a dense fog. 

Walken surged forward, the Jump-Unit on his TSF’s back igniting in a burst of power. He shot through the smokescreen, his targeting systems locking onto the monstrous figure within. With precise timing, he unloaded a volley of 36mm rounds directly at the dragon’s neck. The shots ricocheted off the thick scales, but a few managed to puncture the flesh beneath, drawing dark, steaming blood. 

The dragon roared, a sound so guttural and deep it rattled Walken’s cockpit. 

"Da Qiao, now!"

From the edge of the smokescreen, Da Qiao’s TSF emerged, its Assault Cannon blazing. A series of 120mm rounds slammed into the beast’s flank, shattering several of its massive scales. The creature thrashed, its tail carving a deep trench into the ground as it bellowed in rage. 

Seeing his opening, Walken dashed forward again, his TSF’s cannons firing continuously. Each shot chipped away at the dragon’s armor-like hide, but it wasn’t enough. 

Then, the dragon retaliated. Its maw opened wide, and an inferno unlike anything Walken had seen erupted forth. The wave of superheated fire surged toward him, forcing him to leap back. Even with the air conditioning system at maximum output, the cockpit grew stiflingly hot. Sweat dripped down his face as the flames roared past, reigniting the smoldering forest around them. 

"Lieutenant Harris!" Walken shouted. "We need more firepower!"

A heartbeat later, twin streaks of light shot from the horizon—TOW missiles from Harris’s IFV Lynx. The projectiles slammed into the dragon’s face, exploding near its eyes. The creature reared back, letting out an agonized roar. Its fire ceased as it shook its massive head, smoke and embers trailing from its snout. 

And then, with a single, thunderous beat of its colossal wings, the dragon rose into the air. The force of the wind flattened the smokescreen and knocked over debris like toy blocks. Walken’s TSF braced against the gale as the beast climbed higher, its shadow casting a long, ominous streak across the battlefield. 

The dragon turned, disappearing into a formation of towering cumulonimbus clouds on the horizon, its fiery glow fading into the storm. 

For a moment, silence reigned once more. 

Walken stood in his TSF, staring after the retreating monster, his breathing heavy. This wasn’t just another mission. This world held horrors beyond anything he’d faced before. The BETA paled in comparison to the raw, primal terror of the beast they’d just encountered. 

Da Qiao’s TSF landed beside him, its exterior blackened but functional. Irma’s and Leo’s machines followed suit, each battered yet operational. 

"Damn," Irma muttered, her voice tinged with frustration. "That overgrown lizard played us like amateurs."

Da Qiao growled, an unusual crack in her normally calm demeanor. "Next time, I’m bringing an EML-99X. That bastard’s mine."

Walken smirked despite himself, though his eyes remained fixed on the distant storm clouds. "I expected that from Leo, not you, Da Qiao."

Leo’s voice came through, tired but resolute. "I just hope we don’t run into it again. I’m not eager to go upagainst something that shrugs off our best weapons."

Before Walken could reply, Harris’s voice crackled over the radio. "Major Walken, we’ve got eyes on the dragon. It’s retreating into the clouds. Awaiting orders."

Walken took a deep breath, his resolve hardening. "Lieutenant Harris, rally your men and secure the area. We need to regroup and repair our equipment. I’ll be contacting Colonel Volga about this new threat. This isn’t over."

"Understood, sir!" Harris replied. 

As the storm clouds on the horizon began to churn with flashes of lightning, Walken couldn’t shake the unease settling in his chest. That dragon wasn’t just a creature. It was a harbinger—of what, he didn’t yet know. But he was certain of one thing. 

This world wasn’t going to make their survival easy.

"Understood!"

....
.......

A few hours had passed since the dragon vanished into the storm clouds. Soldiers from the Sturm Platoon worked tirelessly under the pale light of the stars and portable floodlights. They had dug foxholes around the perimeter, erected rudimentary tents, and set up a defensive line with whatever they had left. The technicians, sweating under the strain, clustered around the damaged TSFs, trying to coax some semblance of functionality from their battered machines. Sparks flew, tools clattered, and muttered curses filled the air as they wrestled with melted circuits and twisted armor plating. 

Away from the noise and chaos, Major Walken and Lieutenant Harris sat by a crackling campfire at the center of the encampment. The firelight danced across their faces, casting sharp shadows on their weary expressions. 

"Major." Harris began, removing his helmet and setting it beside him, "In all my years fighting on that cursed world of ours, I’ve never seen anything like that creature. Not even the Fort Laser-class could invoke that kind of terror. And to think... there might be bigger fish in this sea." 

Walken, seated on the opposite side of the campfire, watched the flames for a moment before his gaze shifted to Harris’s dark green combat suit. The Union Army gear was imposing, reinforced with armor plates on the chest, back, and shoulders. It reminded Walken of old images of German Empire stormtroopers from the First World War. 

He gestured lazily toward Harris’s outfit. "I still don’t get how you guys can fight and run around in all that gear—especially the poor bastard lugging the mortar."

Harris shot him a glare, clearly unamused. "Major, focus."

Walken chuckled softly, raising a hand in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. My bad. Any updates on the comms? Can we reach Vega yet?"

"Lieutenant Irma’s TSF is serving as the transmitter." Harris replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We’re a long way from the base. Honestly, I miss satellites. Remember those?"

Walken sighed, leaning back slightly. "As General Xi keeps reminding us, we’re not allowed to play with our ‘expensive toys’ until the Air or Space Forces can build proper bases here. HSST deployment is possible, but an airfield suitable for one of those monsters will take at least two months to set up."

"Two months?" Harris scoffed, shaking his head. "We might as well be back in the damn Stone Age."

Walken tilted his head, gazing up at the night sky. The stars were brilliant, scattered like shards of diamonds across a black velvet expanse. No light pollution, no satellites—just raw, unspoiled beauty. A faint smile crept onto his face. 

"If it means I get to see this view every night?" He said quietly. "I’d say it’s a fair trade, man."

Harris followed Walken’s gaze, a begrudging grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Heh… you’ve got a point. It’s not bad." 

Breaking the moment, Harris looked back at Walken. "So, were we able to get through to Colonel Volga?"

"Just now." Walken pressed a button on his Multifunction Device, and a holographic screen flickered to life, displaying the words: Audio Only.

A familiar voice crackled through the speakers, dripping with amusement. "Major Walken and Lieutenant Harris... I hear you almost got yourself Saint-Georged out there. I can’t say I’d be surprised if that were true."

Walken rolled his eyes. "Not funny, Colonel. What are our next orders, sir?"

There was a brief pause, filled with faint static, before Colonel Volga’s tone turned more serious. "Continue your reconnaissance. Identify and map any civilizations within your area of operations. Report everything you find to me immediately."

Walken’s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Even what that fire-breathing lizard had for breakfast?"

“If it ate a sandwich,” Volga replied dryly, “I’d like to know if it prefers it with or without vegetables. Volga out.” 

The connection cut off abruptly, leaving Walken staring at the now-dark holographic screen. He let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. 

Harris blinked, clearly dumbfounded. "...Is he always like that?"

Walken smirked faintly. "You’ll get used to it. The Colonel’s sense of humor is... an acquired taste."

Harris shook his head, still baffled. "I’ll take your word for it. I’ve only been here because our platoon’s scouts have the best track record from the BETA War and the Unification War. This... world is a whole different beast."

Walken leaned forward, poking at the fire with a stick. "You’re right about that. It’s not just the creatures—it’s the sheer unknown. For all we know, that dragon could be a foot soldier. And if that’s true…" He let the thought hang in the air, the weight of it sinking into both men. 

Harris shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the realization. "Then we’re in way over our heads."

"Maybe," Walken admitted, his gaze fixed on the embers drifting into the night sky. "But we’ve been in over our heads before. One way or another, we’ll adapt. We always do."

Silence fell between them again, broken only by the distant hum of technicians working late into the night. Above them, the stars continued to shine, oblivious to the chaos unfolding on the ground below.

Walken rubbed his neck and glanced toward the two M113s parked near the edge of the camp. The vehicles, modernized by the Combat Engineers, gleamed faintly in the firelight. "Oh, by the way," he said, smirking slightly, "You're lucky the Colonel isn’t under the influence of vodka. That would’ve been... entertaining." 

Harris shook his head, half-amused. "I’ll take your word for it, Major." 

"Well, that’s enough for tonight," Walken continued, his tone turning brisk. "We’re moving out at first light. Your APCs still have fuel, right?" 

Harris nodded, following Walken’s gaze to the M113s. "Plenty. The tanks are topped off, enough for a two-day journey. We also brought extra fuel, which gives us quite a bit of wiggle room. We’re safe—for now." 

Walken raised an eyebrow at the emphasis. "That doesn’t sound particularly comforting, Lieutenant. Just make sure your vehicles don’t run dry. The last thing we need is for our TSFs or trucks to drag you all back to base. Lifting a Tank-class BETA is bad enough, let alone a couple of APCs and their crew." 

"We’ll keep that in mind, Major," Harris replied with a wry smile, nodding. 

Satisfied, Walken stretched and turned back toward his TSF. The towering machine loomed above the camp, faintly illuminated by the fire and floodlights. He climbed into the cockpit and shut the hatch behind him. As he settled into the pilot seat, exhaustion hit him all at once. The rhythmic hum of the TSF’s idle systems lulled him into a fitful sleep. 

Not far from the campfire, Itami crouched in the shadows of the command variant IFV Lynx. He had been silently eavesdropping on the exchange, listening to the back-and-forth between Walken and Harris. Letting out a quiet sigh, he leaned back against the vehicle. 

So far, his skills had gone unused. Not that he lacked the desire to contribute, but the circumstances and equipment had hardly allowed him to shine. The decision from General Xi, forbidding the Japanese Imperial Guards from bringing their TSFs into the New World, still stung. 

"It seems the rebellion from some of the old Imperial Guard lingers even now," Itami muttered under his breath. 

His thoughts drifted to the fractured state of the Imperial Guard and the distrust that still hung over them. He clenched his fists, frustration welling up inside him. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his uniform. 

"Not the time for regrets." He whispered to himself before turning back to the Lynx. For now, he would bide his time and wait for the opportunity to prove his worth.

Unknown Highway, New World

January 26, 2050

The sun rose slowly, casting long shadows across the landscape. The soldiers of Lieutenant Harris's platoon bustled about the remnants of their camp, packing up tents, dismantling makeshift foxholes, and collecting every piece of trash. The camp had been a temporary refuge in an unknown and unforgiving world, but their mission demanded they keep moving. 

Above it all, perched on the shoulder of his TSF, Major Walken watched the dawn in quiet reverence. The vivid hues of gold, crimson, and lavender stretched across the horizon like a painting, unspoiled by the horrors of war or the scars of his previous world. 

"It’s beautiful," he murmured to himself, the words barely audible. "No mushroom clouds. No ash choking the skies. Just... a sunrise." 

His moment of reflection was interrupted by the crackling of his comms. 

"Major Walken! We’re ready to move!" Lieutenant Leo’s voice came through, enthusiastic but a bit too loud. 

Walken winced and sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Leo, no need to shout. Alright, everyone, mount up. Let’s move!" 

He descended into the cockpit of his TSF, the familiar hum of the systems coming to life as the machine powered up. The convoy began to roll out in formation, with Walken’s TSFs flanking the APCs. The dirt highway stretched endlessly ahead, flanked by wilderness on either side. 

---

The convoy pressed on, the silence of the road broken only by the rumble of engines. There were no signs of life—no roads, no buildings, not even ruins. It was as if this part of the world had been untouched by hands of civilization.

The hours dragged on, and the monotony began to weigh on the soldiers. Even the most disciplined among them couldn’t help but grow restless. Over the comms, idle chatter began to pick up. 

"I spy with my little eye," Leo started, a mischievous edge to his voice, "a witch among us!" 

Da Qiao groaned audibly. "Leo, I swear, if you call me a witch one more time, I’ll kick your ass into next week." 

"With all due respect, Lieutenant," one of Harris’s soldiers chimed in, barely suppressing a laugh, "he never actually said it was you." 

The channel erupted in laughter, much to Da Qiao’s annoyance. Her fiery response came in a string of Mandarin curses, her voice rising in frustration. Walken chuckled quietly, savoring the camaraderie. These moments of levity were rare, and he hoped they would last. 

The lead APC suddenly screeched to a halt, its tires kicking up a plume of dust. The rest of the convoy followed suit, the abrupt stop jarring the soldiers and pilots alike. 

Walken immediately stepped forward, his TSF towering over the halted vehicles. He opened a direct line to Lieutenant Harris. 

"Harris, report. Why are we stopping?" 

"Major," Harris replied, his voice tinged with surprise, "my men spotted structures down the hill. Looks like a village." 

Walken’s pulse quickened. Finally—signs of civilization. "Good. Harris, I want you to take a squad and check it out. Bring Itami with you." 

Harris hesitated. "Sir, is that wise? We don’t know what kind of reception we’ll get." 

Walken’s tone hardened. "Lieutenant, these people are likely medieval at best. Imagine the chaos if they see our TSFs marching into their village. We need to make a good first impression. Keep your team light and non-threatening. I trust you can handle this." 

There was a pause before Harris sighed. "Understood, sir. For All Mankind." 

Walken smiled faintly. "For All Mankind. Good luck, Lieutenant. Keep the comms open, and report anything unusual." 

---

### **The Descent** 
Harris quickly assembled a small team. Itami, standing nearby, adjusted his gear as he was called forward. He had been quiet throughout the journey, observing from the sidelines, but now his skills were about to be tested. 

"You’re with me, Itami," Harris said, his voice firm. 

"Understood, Lieutenant." Itami nodded, his movements precise and methodical. 

The squad, equipped with light arms and minimal gear, moved out on foot, leaving the armored vehicles and TSFs behind. They advanced cautiously, their boots crunching softly against the dirt as they crested the hill. 

Below them lay the village—a collection of wooden structures with thatched roofs, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. People moved about the streets, carrying baskets, tending to livestock, and going about their lives, oblivious to the arrival of their uninvited guests. 

Harris lowered his binoculars, his face a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Alright, gentlemen. Let’s make history." 

With a nod, the team began their descent. Each step brought them closer to the unknown, their hearts pounding with anticipation and a touch of fear. Behind them, Major Walken watched from his TSF, the towering machine standing sentinel over the convoy. 

"Good luck, Lieutenant," Walken whispered to himself, his eyes fixed on the figures growing smaller in the distance. "Let’s hope this goes better than our first contact with the BETA." 

For the first time in years, humanity was about to reach out to the unfamiliar, not as conquerors or victims, but as explorers in a strange and alien world.

Lieutenant Harris continued walking while stroking the M7A1 he was carrying, this weapon was the standard weapon in the Union Army, although there were some units that still used old and different weapons, overall the M7 series had been distributed throughout the armed forces.

Itami himself carried quite a different weapon, a Bullpup carbine called the Type-91 which is the hallmark of the military police in Japan and the Imperial Guard. This weapon has three variations, the basic rifle variant, a short-barreled with carbine-like configuration and also as a light machine gun.

(Type-91 Bullpup Assault Rifle.)

"Sir, the mob in front... They're human, sir." One of Harris' men said.

"Okay... Alright everyone, put on a happy face but make sure we don't get ambushed by them, Lieutenant Itami, with me." Harris ordered. They all did as they were told.

Lieutenant Itami was now walking hand in hand with Lieutenant Harris. Harris said. "Make sure not to embarrass our world, Lieutenant."

"Oh I'm not thinking something like that, Lieutenant, I'm quite professional when it comes to work." Itami said with a crisp laugh.

Harris was silent and did not respond, they finally arrived in front of a group of people carrying farming tools and were mostly elderly men.

"Foreigners, are you siding with the Empire?" An old man came forward hesitantly, he seems to be an influential person in this village, Harris thought.

"No sir, we are under the auspices of the Union of Mankind, we come in peace and wish to conduct diplomacy with you." Harris said to start the conversation.

"Is that so? Thank Gods you're not one of them... We have nothing left to give, no more young men for soldiers or young girls for slaves..." The old man said sadly.

Itami cleared his throat. "Uh sir, My name is Lieutenant Itami Youji and he is Lieutenant Harris, if I may know what your name is?"

Harris looked at Itami while nodding his head with approval. The old man said. "Ah of course, where are my manners... I am Elder Fortser, the leader of this humble village."

"Nice to meet you sir... By the way, when you say Empire, are they the rulers of this land?" Asked Harris curiously.

"That's right Mr. Harris, they are the rightful rulers of this land and have been so for a thousand years." Elder Fortser replied in a frightened tone.

"You speak of them like they are monsters, is the Empire that bad?" Asked Itami frowning.

".... About a few weeks ago, the Empire opened a Gate to another world, they sent the mighty and famously invincible Imperial Legion... But the Empire's campaign in the other world ended in a big failure, now they are fighting in a state of stalemate, the soldiers of the other world also I heard did not make any movement from their Gate... But when I think about it... Your clothes are a bit similar to theirs, are you part of them and strayed here? I beg you to leave, we have suffered enough from the Empire." Elder Fortser pleaded while kneeling down.

This of course made Itami, Harris and the other soldiers confused as hell, it seemed that the Empire was sowing fear of the unknown in its subjects. Itami then said quite loudly. "Elder Fortser, I can assure you that we will not harm you or let the Empire bother you again."

Harris looked a little surprised at Itami's statement. "Lieutenant Itami! You have no right to make decisions!"

"Harris, man, just go with the flow okay?" Itami pleaded nicely, he then looked back at Elder Fortser who was still kneeling.

"Elder, please get up, we will not hurt you like the Empire, we came here because we want to establish a relationship with the people from here, an equal relationship of course and not one-sided." Itami said in a firm tone.

Elder Fortser looked at Itami with a stunned look, as did several of the elders behind him.

"Are you guys... Possibly from another world as well?" Elder Fortser asked with doubt in his heart.

"That's right Elder Fortser, but we are from another 'Gate', we even just found out that there are other Gates in this world... So sir, our offer still stands and we can help you immediately right now... But we need your cooperation too of course." Said Itami who continued to speak.

Elder Fortser looked at Harris and Itami's group doubtfully. "But there are only seven of you, how can you prove to us your commitment?"

This time Lieutenant Harris spoke. "We have troops up there on the hill, we're just the vanguard to make contact."

Elder Fortser looked at his fellow elders, they all nodded their heads which made Elder Fortser let out a long sigh, the weight on his shoulders seemed to disappear but suddenly there was an even heavier weight.

"Alright, Mr. Harris and Mr. Itami, we will accept your good faith, please call your friends, there is not much we can do, but at least let us welcome you all with a feast." Elder Fortser said loudly, he was helped to his feet by his fellow elders.

"Thank you for your understanding, Elder Fortser." Itami smiled broadly, his mission accomplished.

Itami looked at Harris and gave him a 'try to beat that' look. Harris grunted harshly before finally contacting Major Walken to go down with the rest of the troops.

Moments later, Major Walken's reconnaissance unit descended from the hill, their approach causing a wave of confusion and awe to ripple through the village. Four towering Tactical Surface Fighters (TSFs), their polished armor gleaming under the sun, moved with mechanical precision. Accompanying them were several APCs, their engines growling like beasts as they rolled forward without the aid of horses. To the villagers, the sight was nothing short of miraculous—like witnessing gods descend from the heavens.

"M-Mr. Harris, Mr. Itami... are those your comrades?" Elder Fortser stammered, his wide eyes fixed on the colossal machines. 

Itami let out a nervous chuckle. "That’s right, sir. Those are our comrades... well, uh... more like our superiors."

Harris gave a small nod to confirm Itami’s words but remained silent, his eyes focused on the TSFs as they came to a halt a short distance away. Dust swirled around the massive machines as they knelt, their imposing forms now closer to the villagers’ level. 

From the lead TSF, a hiss of hydraulics broke the tense silence as the cockpit opened, revealing Major Walken standing tall within the chest cavity of the mechanical giant. His figure was silhouetted against the light streaming into the cockpit, making him appear almost divine. 

The villagers, deeply rooted in their spiritual beliefs, gasped in unison. Many immediately dropped to their knees, bowing low to the ground, while some began to pray aloud, their voices trembling with reverence and fear. To them, these machines weren’t tools of war—they were some kind of divine messengers. 

Itami and Harris exchanged awkward glances, scratching their heads as the situation unfolded. "Yeah, uh... didn’t see that coming." Itami muttered under his breath. 

Major Walken climbed out of his TSF with practiced ease, descending via an emergency evacuation rope. He landed on the ground with a solid thud, his boots kicking up a small cloud of dust. Walking with confidence, his piercing gaze swept over the scene before settling on the kneeling villagers and the stunned elder. 

"Lieutenants Itami, Harris," Walken called out, his voice steady but laced with authority. "You two took action before awaiting my orders. Under normal circumstances, I’d have to reprimand you."

Both officers stiffened, exchanging nervous glances. 

"But," Walken continued, his expression softening slightly, "I’ll let it slide this time. Your initiative—and your ability to handle first contact—makes me proud. Just don’t make a habit of it."

Relieved, Harris and Itami gave quick nods, both saluting sharply. "Understood, sir!"

Walken turned his attention to Elder Fortser, who was still kneeling but looking up at the Major with a mix of fear and respect. Walken approached, his demeanor calm and disarming. "Elder Fortser," he began. "I overheard your conversation earlier. Let me start by saying I agree with what Lieutenant Itami said—but not necessarily how he said it."

Itami winced slightly but said nothing. 

Walken crouched slightly to meet the elder’s gaze, offering a reassuring smile. "Your village’s safety is now under our jurisdiction. I promise you, no harm will come to your people as long as we’re here. But if I may ask, Elder—what is the name of your village?"

The elder straightened slightly, summoning his dignity despite the overwhelming presence of the machines and soldiers. "Reepol, sir. The name of this village is Reepol."

"Reepol." Walken repeated thoughtfully, standing back to his full height. He glanced around at the humble homes, the dirt roads, and the weary villagers. "Well, Elder Fortser, Reepol is now under the protection of the Union of Mankind. You have my word."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Fortser slowly rose to his feet, his voice steady but emotional. "Thank you, Major Walken. I... I don’t know if we deserve such kindness, but we are grateful."

Walken gave a respectful nod before turning back to his TSF. He activated his comms, his tone shifting to one of command. "Recon team, establish a perimeter around the village. Keep our presence minimal but maintain readiness. We’re here to protect these people, not overwhelm them."

As the soldiers moved to follow his orders, the villagers watched in awe, their fear gradually giving way to cautious hope. For the first time in years, they felt a glimmer of safety—a reprieve from the ever-looming shadow of the Empire.

TBC.

College's life is rock and suck at the same times lmao.

See you next time bruv