The sky was thick with clouds, and through them, 25,000 wyvern knights soared, their wings beating in unison as they made their way toward the enemy's position. Leading the charge was Artanius Caesar, his armored form cutting through the air, his wyvern a magnificent beast that carried him through the sky with grace and power. Beside him rode a general, the second-in-command of the air force, clad in golden armor that gleamed in the sunlight. Both men were focused on the battle ahead, unaware of the tragic fate awaiting Artanius' brother, Magnus, who had already met his end at the hands of the Salvatians.

Artanius' voice rang out, full of pride and determination. "Such glory I am going to take on against these heathen barbarians who dare to step onto this continent. This land will become a greater empire for the Latiusans! General, ensure the wyvern knights hold their formation. I will not tolerate any disarray. Any knight who breaks formation will face my punishment."

"Yes, your highness," the general replied, his voice steady as he relayed the order to his men.

Artanius nodded with satisfaction, his confidence unwavering. "Good! I want this battle to be flawless, so I can pierce my spear through the heart of the enemy. The glory will be mine, and once my father sees the results, the throne will be mine as well. I am the only one who deserves it, not my brothers." His voice carried a trace of arrogance, his words filled with absolute certainty.

As they flew onward, a glint of something strange caught the general's eye in the distance.

"My lord, what is that over there?" the general asked, pointing ahead.

Artanius followed the direction of his gaze, narrowing his eyes. As they drew closer, his vision cleared, revealing a sight that left him momentarily stunned. A massive Salvatian helicarrier, a floating fortress of iron, was barreling toward them through the sky. It appeared out of nowhere, its immense size blocking out the sun and casting a shadow across the battlefield.

"What the hell is that?!" Artanius exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. "A giant floating fortress in the sky!"

The general's voice shook with awe. "It's huge! I've never seen anything like it in my life!"

Before either of them could fully comprehend the scale of the threat before them, the Salvatian air forces launched their assault. Harpies, angels, demonkins, and dragonewts flew toward them, joined by Air Force HASDs and jet troopers. Alongside them, Salvatian Hornet gunships and Skykiller jet fighters closed in rapidly, all with one purpose: to take down the wyvern knights.

The general's voice snapped through the tension in the air. "What the—! Enemies in sight!"

Artanius' fists clenched, his teeth grinding with fury. "Get those bastards out of my sky! I am the king of the sky, not them!" he bellowed, his voice filled with righteous anger.

"Understood, sire!" the general responded, turning to relay the order to his men.

But it was too late. The Salvatian air forces had already engaged, and the wyvern knights, caught off guard, began to break formation. Chaos spread through the skies as they scattered in all directions, desperate to confront the oncoming assault.

"No! No, no, no!" Artanius shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. "Get back into formation!"

But his commands were drowned out by the cacophony of battle as his knights ignored him, too focused on the enemy. The Salvatian harpies, having mastered new magical abilities in their academies, began to hurl mana energy balls at the wyvern knights. The explosions sent knights plummeting from the sky, their bodies torn apart by the magical onslaught.

The harpies, using their energy-charged wings, swept in close, their wings glowing with power. They dove toward the wyvern knights, slashing through the air with precision and speed, their gilded wings cutting through armor and flesh, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The wyvern knights, disorganized and overwhelmed, struggled to defend themselves against the relentless assault.

The Salvatian Skykiller fighters fired electron-phased plasma Vulcan cannons to take out Latiusan wyverns, while Hornet gunships assisted both the Skykiller fighters and the air infantry units by firing plasma acceleration Vulcan cannons and missiles to eliminate every enemy in sight. They obliterated several Latiusan wyvern knights with their superior military weaponry.

The angels, demonkins, dragonewts, and jet troopers fired their weapons at the wyvern knights, targeting both the riders and the wyverns. The Air Force HASDs launched missiles that penetrated the thick scales of the enemy wyverns, continuing to engage the remaining hostile units.

The moment the Salvatian helicarrier arrived, its AA-turrets sprang to life, locking onto targets within range. The roar of heavy artillery filled the air as bursts of fire erupted from the turrets, shredding wyvern knights out of the sky. Several knights were annihilated in a matter of moments, their bodies tumbling to the ground in a chaotic dance of death.

Artanius stood frozen, watching in horror as the slaughter unfolded before him. His once-mighty force of 25,000 wyvern knights was rapidly dwindling, torn apart by the relentless firepower of the Salvatians. His heart pounded in his chest as the full weight of the disaster settled over him. The pride and confidence he had felt only moments before were now replaced by a creeping panic.

His general, bloodied and bruised from the brutal engagement with the Salvatian forces, staggered toward him, desperately trying to speak.

"Y-your Highness! P-please, order to re-" the general began, but his voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the helicarrier's AA-turrets, which sent Artanius into a full-blown panic.

The world around him seemed to slow as he watched the destruction of his forces. His once-immense pride crumbled into nothingness as the overwhelming power of the Salvatians struck him with full force. The glory he had dreamed of was slipping through his fingers, replaced by the cold, gnawing fear of his own imminent death.

In a moment of sheer terror, Artanius turned and fled the battlefield, abandoning his men to their fate. His once-steady composure shattered completely as he fled from the chaos, his heart racing with fear and disbelief.

Oh my Arcanus, he thought, what the hell am I looking at? Those flying bastards, those iron beasts—they've decimated my forces. The glory I sought is gone... gone because of them!

His anger boiled inside him, his teeth clenched so tightly it hurt. Such humiliation, he thought bitterly. Damn them! How could I be humiliated and defeated by... by some...

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the shriek of jet engines. He looked up just in time to see a pair of Skykiller fighters hurtling toward him. Without hesitation, they veered and made a sharp turn, heading straight for him.

Barbarians... was the last word he thought before everything went black.

A barrage of electron-phased plasma Vulcan cannons and missiles erupted from the fighters, striking Artanius with terrifying precision. The explosions tore through him, obliterating his body in a matter of seconds. The once-proud prince of Latius was no more, his life snuffed out by the merciless Salvatians.

With Artanius' forces destroyed and his life extinguished, the Salvatians regrouped aboard the helicarrier. The massive warship continued its advance, followed by several more helicarriers in tow, as they pressed onward toward the heart of the Latiusan Empire.

With two Latiusan princes dead, only one member of the royal bloodline remained. Dartkorr Caesar, the last surviving heir, would soon face the full brunt of the Salvatian onslaught.

...

The Latiusan forces were being decimated, their numbers dwindling rapidly as they were sent to engage an alliance force of Salvatia and Dyria. Many lords and generals sent to the frontlines were killed in action, driven by pride and seeking glory. The nobles on the battlefield were terrified by Salvatia's military superiority and Dyria's vengeful onslaught. Older nobles chose to escape, knowing that such cowardice could lead to severe penalties. Young nobles, prideful and narcissistic glory-seekers, met their end on the field—gunned down by Salvatian forces and barraged by Dyrian arrows before being cut down by Dyrian infantry to kill the survivors.

The Latiusans retreated to the mountains now known as the Frostpeak Range, named for the cold winters unique to the mountainous region. Despite the warm climate outside the mountains, the interior was bitterly cold due to the altitude. The Latiusans, unaccustomed to such winter conditions, wore fur outfits to keep warm. They utilized two separate paths through the mountains to maneuver their army, constructing two fortresses along these paths in hopes of defending against the enemy and protecting their empire.

However, what they didn't know was that the Salvatians had their own advantages, such as air forces capable of navigating through the mountains, although only aircraft could traverse the dark clouds that shrouded the peaks. The frigid temperatures rendered it unsafe for flying air infantry units to operate effectively.

Secondly, the Dyrians informed the Salvatians not to underestimate the enemy fortresses guarding the two separate paths of the Frostpeak Range. They insisted that these fortresses must be neutralized. Additionally, an orb drone returned from scouting, reporting that Prince Dartkorr Caesar had been sighted commanding the defenses. This presented a good opportunity to eliminate the last heir of the royal bloodline, potentially disrupting the succession to the throne.

...

Salvatian Military Base in a far distance of Frostpeak Range

War Room

A Salvatian commander, a Draconic Kobold named Emzal Flamedrake, led the Salvatian army and established a base at a considerable distance from the Frostpeak Range, which was controlled by the enemy. Alongside him was a Dyrian captain named Elira Jaderoar, a tigress wildfolk who had been captured in battle and enslaved, destined for an eastern Latiusan settlement. She had endured this captivity for quite a while and was nearly sold to customers before the Salvatians came and liberated her and the other slaves.

Upon her return to Dyria, she was welcomed back with joy by the princess, who was relieved to see her loyal soldier alive. Captain Jaderoar, having resumed her duties, now wished to join the Salvatian forces in taking out the southern fortress in the Frostpeak Range—a fortress the Latiusans had built to block the path since their exploration expeditions.

Commander Emzal Flamedrake, Captain Elira Jaderoar, and the other officers stood around a holographic table, the glowing projection illuminating their faces as they mapped out their next strategy. The mission was clear: destroy the enemy fortress and eliminate Prince Dartkorr Caesar, who posed a serious threat to their advance.

Emzal Flamedrake's finger hovered over the map as he pointed to a fortress in the southern region of the Frostpeak Range.

"As we know, it's confirmed that the enemy commander, Prince Dartkorr Caesar, is stationed here at the southern fortress," he said, his voice steady but laced with intent.

He tapped the image of the fortress on the holo-table, marking it for emphasis.

"The commander to the north will engage the northern fortress while we focus on the southern one. The enemy has spread their remaining forces thin, setting up a blockade to hinder our ground troops," Emzal continued, his gaze shifting to his officers as they processed the plan.

Captain Elira Jaderoar stepped forward, her brow furrowed with concern. "Can you call in your flying support to eliminate them quickly?"

Emzal shook his head. "We would, but doing so would give Prince Dartkorr the chance to escape, retreating back to the empire. He's not like other princes. He's a strategist—smart, calculating. He'll have mages among his forces, and if we make any move that isn't precise, he'll counter it. No, we need to strike here, now. We need to end it before he has a chance to flee."

A Salvatian officer interjected, his voice urgent. "Sir, our orb drone has detected a significant presence of monsters under the command of beast tamers. Their numbers are considerable, and there are also reserve units, split from the main army, ready to step in if the main force falters."

Captain Jaderoar's eyes narrowed. "Is there any way we can take out both the fortress and the prince?"

Another officer spoke up, offering a suggestion. "Commander, I recommend deploying an elite spec-ops team behind enemy lines. By targeting the prince directly, we could disrupt their command structure and morale. Without their leader, their forces could crumble."

Emzal considered this for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "Hmm, sounds promising. But we'll need more than just spec-ops. Officer, contact HQ and request a team of commandos to assist. We'll need the best for this job. We know the prince won't go down easily."

The officer nodded, quickly moving to make contact with the main HQ.

Captain Jaderoar, still processing the plan, looked to Emzal. "Excuse me, but what exactly is a commando?"

Emzal turned to her, his voice filled with confidence. "Commandos are elite soldiers, highly trained in specialized combat. They handle a wide range of operations, often involving advanced technology and unconventional warfare tactics. These soldiers are the best of the best—capable of taking down entire armies with advanced training, superior weapons, and equipment designed for the mission."

"I see..." Elira said, her expression shifting as she grasped the gravity of what he was describing. "So they're like elite warriors of some sort?"

"Exactly," Emzal replied, his tone firm. "But they do it better than regular soldiers. Just you wait, Captain. Prince Dartkorr will find himself in a body bag before he even knows what hit him."

A draconic kobold officer standing beside Emzal smirked, the confidence in his voice unmistakable. "Mark my words, Captain. It'll be over before he even realizes what's happening."

...

At the Southern Latiusan Fortress, nestled within the towering peaks of the Frostpeak Range, Prince Dartkorr Caesar stood atop the battlement, his gaze fixed on the horizon where his army was stationed in preparation for the incoming assault. The battlefield stretched out before him, but his mind was consumed by disbelief. Reports had come in that the Latiusan legion had been utterly decimated, forced to retreat in a matter of hours. The enemy's forces—swift, relentless, and overwhelmingly powerful—had shattered his army with devastating speed. A crushing defeat. As the barbarian invaders advanced toward the Frostpeak Range, Dartkorr could feel the weight of his position bearing down on him.

He clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had ordered his forces to form a defensive perimeter, intending to hold the invaders off long enough to buy time for reinforcements. But in his heart, he knew that help would take hours—perhaps even days—if they were fortunate. Monsters controlled by beast tamers were at his command, bolstering his army's numbers, but it would take more than mere beasts to stave off the impending onslaught.

The latest report had spoken of the invaders' iron ships arriving suddenly at the southeast coast. These ships had torn through the city with a ferocity that left Dartkorr stunned. He had assumed these ships were equipped with mana cannons, explaining the widespread destruction that had followed. The barbarians had somehow harnessed the power of mana and constructed iron vessels capable of floating on water, a feat he could scarcely comprehend.

His father, furious at the destruction of their beautiful city, had already sent their main army to hold the western front. Worse still, their navy had been obliterated by the invaders, leaving their coastlines vulnerable. His father had ordered the remaining forces to fortify the empire, to defend it at all costs and prevent the barbarians from taking the port.

Yet, despite all these dire circumstances, Dartkorr's focus remained on the defense of the Frostpeak Range. He could not afford to let the invaders breach the mountain path into the heart of the empire. His mind was sharp, his strategy already taking shape. He would hold them back—he had to.

A Latiusan knight approached from behind, his voice steady as he reported.

"Sire, the men are ready to defend the fortress," the knight said, bowing slightly as he spoke.

"Good," Dartkorr replied, his voice calm but firm. "That should buy us time. We'll hold them at bay long enough to regroup and reinforce. We cannot let them breach the path into the Frostpeak Range."

"Yes, your highness."

"Also, make sure to station some men inside the fortress. I don't want any surprises while I rest. No one is getting past these walls unnoticed."

"Of course, your highness!" the knight said, nodding quickly. "I'll pass the orders to the captain."

As the knight departed to relay his commands, Dartkorr remained at the battlement, his eyes darkening as he thought of the invaders. His lips curled into a small, confident smile.

"I hope you have a plan for me," he muttered to himself. "Because if you don't, you'll soon learn that I am no fool like my brothers. My strategy will crush you."

His heart burned with determination. His strategy was solid, and he believed with all his being that it would succeed. Dartkorr had no illusions about the dangers ahead, but he remained resolute in his belief that the empire could still prevail. As he stood, watching the mountains, he prayed his plan would work—prayed that the empire's fate could still be turned in their favor.

...

Two hours later, a heavy darkness settled over the Frostpeak Range. The once pristine skies were now choked with thick, ominous clouds that cast shadows over the mountain peaks. A Salvatian dropship cut through the dense cloud cover, its engines humming as it hovered far above the enemy fortress below.

Inside the dropship, four spec-ops members and four commandos were silent, their eyes focused as they awaited the green light for deployment. Among them was Arthak Howlmaw, the Ogron commando lieutenant, leader of the Bravo Elite command team. He stood at the front, preparing to brief his team on their mission.

"Alright, listen up!" Arthak's voice was firm, cutting through the tension in the cabin. "We're about ten minutes out from deployment, so pay attention. Our primary target is Prince Dartkorr Caesar. He's holed up in the fortress just above us, holding his ground in hopes of reinforcements. High Command wants him dead. We take him out, the enemy morale will plummet, and they'll lose the will to fight."

He paused, letting the weight of the mission sink in. "The commandos will focus on eliminating the prince and anyone who gets too close. The spec-ops, you'll be tasked with searching for and destroying any critical resources—armories, horse stables, anything that could support their army. Leave nothing standing."

The spec-ops team leader nodded, his face grim. "Understood."

Arthak's expression hardened. "Once we start making a mess and the prince goes down, the enemy will be in disarray. That's when our allies move in to break their defensive line. This is our one shot. We can't afford to fail. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" came the unified reply from the spec-ops and commandos.

A Salvatian pilot, a male cat beastfolk, cut in from the cockpit. "Green light is a go! Deploy now!"

"Good. You heard him," Arthak said, his voice a low growl. "Let's move out."

With that, he donned his helmet, followed by the rest of the team. One by one, they filed out of the dropship, each using a gravitic descent pack (GD-Pack) to safely descend through the air. The fortress grew closer, the sharp silhouette of the enemy stronghold coming into view as they approached. When they reached the battlement, the team landed soundlessly on the stone surface, already surveying the area.

Without hesitation, they moved quickly, taking down three Latiusan soldiers with the precision of practiced professionals, their silenced weapons ensuring minimal noise.

Arthak signaled for them to move forward. "Alright, time to split up. Complete your objectives. We'll handle this."

The spec-ops team leader gave a sharp nod. "Roger that."

The two teams split, each taking a different route through the fortress, their mission clear. The Bravo Elite team moved through the labyrinthine hallways, taking down any enemy soldier or knight who crossed their path. Their movements were swift and silent, like shadows in the night.

As they advanced deeper into the fortress, they finally came across a door that led to Prince Dartkorr Caesar's royal quarters. The room was heavily guarded by royal soldiers, their eyes sharp as they stood at attention, ever watchful for any intruders. The guards remained steadfast, unaware of the silent threat creeping ever closer.

Arthak Howlmaw signaled to his team to halt. They would have to find a way past the guards if they were to complete their mission.

Arthak Howlmaw's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the royal guards blocking the entrance. "Alright," he said quietly, "he's in there. We need to deal with the guards first."

One of the commandos, known for his quick thinking, stepped forward. "I got this," he muttered, pulling out a flash grenade. With swift precision, he lobbed it at the guards. It exploded with a blinding flash, momentarily disorienting the soldiers. Seizing the opportunity, the Bravo Elite team moved in, their silenced weapons tearing through the stunned guards in an instant. The air remained eerily still, the sound of their gunfire muffled and controlled.

Once the guards were down, the team stood at the door, waiting.

Arthak Howlmaw gestured toward the room. "The prince is in there. Remember, we want him dead."

"Copy," came the quick response from one commando.

"This will be a lucky day for us," another commando added with a grim smirk. "Time to kill the prince."

The third commando, more pragmatic, asked, "Has the spec-ops team completed their objective yet?"

"Not yet," the first commando replied. "Keep focused on our objective."

After a brief pause, Arthak motioned for the door. They opened it slowly, stepping cautiously into the dimly lit room. But as they surveyed the scene, one of the commandos pulled back the sheet on the bed and froze.

"What the? Where did he go?" he muttered, confusion in his voice.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from behind them. "Looking for me?"

The commandos spun around in surprise. There, standing just outside the room, was Prince Dartkorr Caesar. His dark eyes gleamed with self-assurance, flanked by his knights, each one wielding a weapon. The prince was clad in lordly knight armor, a heavy war hammer gripped firmly in his hands. His smirk was one of victory.

"So," Dartkorr said with a voice full of disdain, "I see they sent you assassins to do their dirty work. I had a feeling they'd try this. I've been expecting you. You probably thought I'd be sleeping soundly, didn't you? But no, I've set a trap for anyone who thinks they can sneak in and kill me in my sleep."

He stood tall, relishing the moment. "And here you are, standing in my chambers, looking surprised. I've been waiting for you."

One commando snorted in disbelief. "Clever bastard."

Arthak Howlmaw stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "So, Prince Dartkorr, am I right? I'm surprised you're the smart one, unlike the other two princes we've encountered."

Dartkorr's eyes glinted coldly. "I figured my brothers had failed to stop you and your army. Presumably, they're dead by your hands."

Arthak's tone remained calm. "Correct. We've taken care of two princes. You're the last one left."

Dartkorr tilted his head, his smirk never fading. "I see. You've been eliminating the royal heirs to clear the way for someone else to ascend to the throne once my father, Emperor Artanius Caesar, chooses which of us is worthy to rule. And, honestly, I should thank you."

One commando raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with confusion. "Thank us?"

Dartkorr chuckled, the sound dark and smug. "Yes. I've wanted to rid myself of my incompetent, glory-hungry brothers for years. I'm the one who knows how to rule, how to govern the empire effectively. When my father sees that I'm the only one left standing, he'll choose me to be the new emperor."

SRS Commando 1 scoffed, "Ah, I see. We're doing you a favor, aren't we?"

SRS Commando 2's tone grew sharper. "Sorry, 'Your Highness,' but we don't do favors for someone like you—someone who advocates for slavery and the conquest of the Kingdom of Dyria."

Dartkorr's face twisted into a sneer. "Oh? So the barbarians really care about those animals?" He laughed, the sound harsh and mocking.

"You've got some nerve," he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "Slavery is the law. It's what a proper civilization does with its defeated foes. Those who serve their new masters are rewarded, and those who disobey... well, they face the consequences."

Arthak Howlmaw's voice grew low and dangerous. "And that's why we're here—to end your empire. Starting with you."

Dartkorr raised an eyebrow, the knights behind him raising their shields and weapons. "Oh? And what are you going to do about it? You're outnumbered, and you came in such a small group. Barbarians like you don't belong here. Your fate ends here."

Arthak's grin was cold and confident. "You think we're alone? You have no idea what the Salvatians are capable of."

Dartkorr's gaze sharpened. "What?"

Before anyone could react, a deafening explosion rang out from within the fortress, shaking the very walls. The sound echoed through the stone halls, the tremors of the blast signaling that the battle was far from over.

Dartkorr Caesar's eyes widened in disbelief as the first explosion shook the fortress. "What the!?" he shouted, turning to his knights.

One of the Latiusan knights, his face pale with confusion, looked around. "Where did that sound come from?"

Another knight squinted into the distance. "Wait... Is it from the horse stable?"

Before anyone could respond, a second explosion rattled the walls, more intense than the first.

"What the hell is going on out there?" a third knight muttered, his grip tightening on his weapon.

Dartkorr's gaze hardened as he pieced together what was happening. His eyes darted to the commandos in the room, realization dawning. "How did they—"

He began to speak, but his words were abruptly cut off as a kinetic pulse bullet struck him square in the head. The prince's body collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud, lifeless before it even hit the floor.

The knights around him gasped in horror.

"Wha—Your highness!" cried the first knight, his voice filled with panic.

"You bastard!" the second knight shouted, fury and grief mixing in his tone.

But Arthak Howlmaw and his team showed no hesitation. Their guns fired in a swift, practiced rhythm, cutting down the remaining soldiers with ruthless efficiency. Each shot was precise, each soldier dropping without a sound.

SRS Commando 1 let out a low chuckle, glancing at his weapon. "Heh, so easy with these guns we rely on."

Arthak nodded grimly. "Looks like the spec-op team has taken care of the important stuff outside. They've completed their mission..." His voice trailed off as he surveyed the room, confirming their success.

SRS Commando 3 kicked the lifeless body of Dartkorr Caesar with a disdainful grunt. "So do we," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I expected more of a fight, but with these guns, it's an unfair match."

Arthak gave a short nod, his eyes scanning the room for any remaining threats. "An unfair fight, perhaps, but one we'll gladly take. It's time to end this war for good." He turned to his team, his voice steady and commanding. "I'll radio the commander and report that the mission is complete. Afterward, we regroup with the spec-op team and finish off anyone still willing to fight. Is that understood?"

The Bravo Elite team responded in unison, their voices strong and resolute. "Yes, sir!"

...

Commander Emzal Flamedrake received confirmation of Prince Dartkorr Caesar's death as the commando team leader reported via comms link. Emzal gave the green light to use air support to bombard the enemy forces stationed outside the fortress.

Two squadrons of Skykiller fighters were the first to engage, bombarding the main Latiusan forces stationed at a distance from the fortress in the Frostpeak Range. Once they had decimated the enemy forces, a squadron of Preyhunter fighters followed, firing missiles first and then unleashing kinetic pulse vulcan-style autocannons, raining bullets upon the remaining enemy soldiers and their tamed monsters.

https://youtu.be/3Io96sA63Wo

Once the enemy was decimated, the Salvatian and Dyrian forces rushed onto the battlefield, taking advantage of the devastation caused by Salvatian air support. The Dyrian soldiers engaged in close-quarters combat, killing the remaining enemy infantrymen, while the Salvatians provided supportive fire from a distance. The Vindictarium Order forces, alongside the Salvatian military, engaged the surviving enemies using a combination of advanced firearms and magic powers, both in close combat and at range. Jackal quad bikes tore through the field, with their gunners mowing down low-level monsters and Latiusan infantry on sight. They continued their relentless assault until half of the remaining Latiusan infantrymen surrendered out of fear of the Salvatian military's power and sheer numbers.

As the battle raged on, a helicarrier crossed the Frostpeak Range mountains, detecting enemy reinforcements approaching the fortress from the rear side. The helicarrier destroyed them from above, leaving nothing but corpses in its wake.

Within the hour, they had destroyed the fortress blocking their path to advancement, opening the way to the heart of the Latiusan Empire. This signaled that the war would soon be over once they reached the capital and Dyrians will have their justice by eliminating Emperor Artanius Caesar to put the end of their expansion ambition to become a unitary continental empire.