Lautisan Empire, Capital City of Caesaris

The relentless bombardment from the Salvatian navy showed no sign of ceasing, as their forces continued to obliterate key locations across the city. Panicked civilians filled the streets with screams, desperately fleeing for their lives. Soldiers, caught unprepared by the devastating onslaught, were overwhelmed by fear. The ferocity of the attacks shattered their morale, leaving them unable to maintain discipline against an enemy armed with superior weaponry.

Even the Temple of Arcanus, a sacred and prominent structure, was not spared from the destruction. The relentless naval strikes left it heavily damaged, with many religious followers caught in the crossfire. While some managed to survive, they were left shell-shocked, consumed by panic, and unable to regain their composure. Desperation drove them to fervently pray to Arcanus, the God of War, pleading for divine intervention to annihilate their foes and save their homeland.

For the Lautisan military, the situation was grim. The relentless naval bombardments and precision airstrikes had obliterated their siege arsenals and destroyed naval ports, rendering their fleet defenseless. Military bases suffered a similar fate under successive waves of Salvatian bombers. The remaining troops were hastily organized under noble lords and generals, scrambling to mount a defense against the advancing invaders.

Beyond the capital, Lautisan forces spread thin across the empire faced a brutal toll. Many were slowly retreating with dwindling numbers after facing decisive defeats at the hands of the Salvatians and their allies. The devastating loss of Prince Dartkorr, slain by a Salvatian commando team, further weakened their resolve.

In the heart of Caesaris, the remaining Lautisan forces consolidated their strength, erecting defensive positions across various city districts. These makeshift fortifications were their final hope to halt the Salvatian and Dyrian forces, striving to prevent the enemy from breaching deeper into the capital. The battle for survival raged on, with the fate of the empire hanging by a thread.

...

Throne Room, Imperial Lautisan Castle

The injured messenger, his body wrapped in hastily applied bandages, stood trembling before Emperor Arcturus Caesar, ruler of the Lautisan Empire. The throne room was shrouded in a heavy silence as the emperor sat on his ornate throne, his gaze fixed on the survivor who had barely escaped the carnage wrought by the Salvatian and Dyrian forces.

Arcturus's face darkened as the messenger recounted the unrelenting destruction. The emperor's once-grand empire had been decimated by impossible weapons—floating iron ships that rained devastation from unfathomable distances. The destruction of navy ports, fleets, and military strongholds was a bitter blow, but the defilement of the sacred Temple of Arcanus filled him with righteous fury. That holy ground, a beacon of their faith, had been desecrated by the invaders.

The messenger's voice trembled as he delivered his news.
"Y-Your son, Prince Dartkorr, his brilliant highness of military strategy who valiantly led campaigns against the Dyrian beasts... has fallen."

The emperor's breath caught, his voice breaking as he whispered, "My son, Dartkorr... He's dead. What of Artanius? Magnus?"

The messenger faltered. "I-I... I apologize, Your Majesty. There is no word from either of your sons. I fear... I fear they too have fallen, slain by the barbaric invaders allied with the Dyrians."

Arcturus's fists clenched, his knuckles whitening as rage boiled within him. Three of his sons, all but one, lost on the battlefield. His grief was tempestuous, but his voice was steady. "I... I see. Leave me. I must be alone with this matter."

The messenger bowed deeply, retreating from the throne room. As the doors closed behind him, Arcturus's composure shattered. With a furious cry, he slammed his fist down onto the arm of his throne. "My sons... my successors... all killed by these barbaric invaders!"

His voice reverberated through the empty chamber as his anguish spilled into words. "They sought to end my line—to leave my empire without an heir. They intend to take everything, even my throne."

Rising from his seat, Arcturus descended the steps of his dais, his footsteps heavy with purpose. He passed through a grand doorway into a chamber dedicated to Arcanus, the God of War. The statue of the deity loomed tall, a symbol of strength and defiance, gripping a great twin-edged axe.

Arcturus fell to his knees before the statue, his voice filled with desperation as he prayed. "Oh mighty Arcanus, god of war, hear my plea. A dire crisis befalls this land. We have fought valiantly, spilling enemy blood in your honor, but the barbaric invaders have allied with Dyrian beasts to slay my sons, imprison my kin, and push us to the brink. My people are devoted to you, prepared to sacrifice their lives in your name. I beg you, grant us the strength to drive these enemies from our lands. Protect us as you have before."

He raised his voice, trembling with emotion. "They desecrate your temple, destroy your statues! They insult your name with their blasphemy. Mighty Arcanus, I beg you, annihilate these invaders. Save this empire from ruin!"

His prayer ended with a final, anguished cry as he bowed his head. The weight of his losses pressed heavily upon him, yet he clung to a desperate hope that his god would answer and bring salvation to his empire.

...

The Salvatian officer, a commanding male Neohuman, raised his voice above the chaos of the battlefield. "Push forward!" he roared, spurring both Salvatian and Dyrian forces into a relentless charge against the enemy city. The defenders, despite their courage, were utterly overwhelmed by the superior firepower of the Salvatian military and the ferocious combat prowess of the Dyrian warriors.

A Salvatian APC unleashed a devastating barrage from its kinetic pulse chain gun, shredding the shield wall formation of the enemy knights in moments. Nearby, a Dyrian soldier swung a massive axe with brutal efficiency, cutting down Lautisan soldiers one by one, their resistance crumbling under the relentless assault.

In the heart of the battle, a Salvatian thunder tank rumbled down the street, its imposing presence bolstered by a contingent of Vindictarium myrmidons and Dyrian soldiers marching close behind. The myrmidons, equipped with FPR-1200 storm assault rifles and gleaming arcane swords, moved with deadly precision. As the thunder tank advanced, they spread out, unleashing a hail of gunfire and engaging in close combat, their arcane swords slicing through the Lautisan ranks. The Dyrians, equally bloodthirsty, surged alongside them, their brutal attacks leaving no room for mercy.

The thunder tank's turret swiveled toward an approaching Lautisan lindwurm, the monstrous beast inching closer to the fray. Without hesitation, the tank's cannon fired, delivering a thunderous blast that tore through the lindwurm, silencing its roar and clearing the path for Salvatian and Dyrian forces to claim victory.

...

In the various districts of the besieged city, civilians fled in terror, desperate to escape the invaders overrunning their homeland. GAS archers, armed with mana-energy bows, unleashed glowing projectiles at the Lautisan soldiers. A platoon of Lautisan knights, shields raised, marched into formation to repel the ranged assault. However, their defenses proved insufficient as Salvatian troopers opened fire with their FPAR-77 and PA-3000 assault rifles, the projectiles penetrating the shields and striking down the knights. From a distance, Salvatian grenadiers joined the fray, launching grenades that exploded with devastating force, scattering the remaining defenders.

As the knights' ranks crumbled and chaos ensued, Dyrian soldiers surged past the Salvatian lines. With fierce determination and vengeance burning in their hearts, they tore into the Lautisan soldiers, driven by the memory of their kingdom's invasion and the horrors of enslavement. Meanwhile, terrified civilians sought refuge inside their homes, peeking cautiously through windows as the Salvatians and Dyrians marched through the streets, dispatching Lautisan soldiers with ruthless efficiency. To their surprise, the invaders made no move to harm the civilians, a stark contrast to the brutality they had feared.

The combined forces advanced deeper into the city, eventually coming upon a massive structure—a colosseum.

"That is a colosseum," a Dyrian beastfolk soldier remarked, his voice heavy with grim recognition.

"I've heard they built it to force gladiators to fight to the death for their entertainment," he continued. "Some of our people are imprisoned there, made to fight like animals."

The Salvatian captain, a towering male Ogron, growled in response. "Then we must free them. We'll capture the colosseum and liberate the prisoners."

"Be warned," the beastfolk soldier cautioned. "There may be Lautisans fighting as gladiators. They could kill our people before we get to them."

"Not on my watch," the captain declared with steely resolve.

The order was given, and the troops rushed toward the colosseum. Vindictarium Order forces were already engaged with enemy remnants in the area, using both melee and ranged weapons to clear the path. Once inside, the Salvatians and Dyrians moved cautiously through the labyrinthine halls, their every step echoing with tension. They soon encountered Lautisan soldiers and four gladiators armed with brutal melee weapons, who charged with terrifying speed.

"Open fire!" the Ogron captain commanded.

The Salvatian troopers unleashed a storm of kinetic pulse projectiles, while Dyrian archers loosed their arrows. The enemy soldiers fell quickly, but the gladiators, their bodies hardened by brutal combat, shrugged off the arrows. Yet even their resilience failed against the kinetic rounds, which tore through their defenses, felling them one by one.

The combined forces pressed forward, fighting their way through the colosseum until they reached a room lined with cells. Inside, exhausted beastfolk and wildfolk prisoners sat in despair, some bearing the scars and bandages of forced combat. One wildfolk, a male buffalo gladiator, rose unsteadily, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of his kin.

"What? Is that you? Our brethren have come to save us?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"That's right. We're getting you out of here," a Dyrian gazelle soldier assured him.

A female red panda beastfolk glanced warily at the Salvatians. "Hey, who are those people with you?" she asked, pointing at the captain and his troops.

The Salvatian captain stepped forward. "We are Salvatians. We are your allies. We're here to bring an end to the empire."

The prisoners stared in shock, their exhaustion momentarily replaced by hope. That these were Salvatians, fighting alongside Dyrians to free them and destroy the empire, was a revelation they scarcely dared to believe.

...

The aging and haughty Lautisan commander, his noble bearing marred by desperation, barked orders to his troops, his voice trembling with urgency. "C-Charge! Charge, I tell you! Don't let this glorious empire fall!" he roared, gesturing wildly at the spear throwers under his command. The Lautisan soldiers obeyed, hurling their spears toward the towering forms of three Salvatian Balor Walkers, but their efforts were in vain. The spears clattered harmlessly against the walkers' reinforced armor.

In response, the Balor Walkers unleashed a barrage of kinetic pulse autocannon fire, systematically eliminating the Lautisan forces. Amidst the chaos, the commander's noble figure became a prime target, and his shouts of defiance were silenced under the withering assault.

Inside one of the Balor Walkers, a pilot confirmed their success. "Enemy neutralized. Let's rendezvous with the other units."

"Copy that," another pilot replied with calm precision.

The trio of Balor Walkers moved steadily through the war-torn streets, their mechanical strides resonating with purpose. As they advanced, they encountered a unit of Dyrian soldiers engaged in a fierce skirmish. The Dyrians' bows and arrows were largely ineffective against an enemy platoon of heavily armored knights, who advanced methodically with shields raised, their progress slowed only by the weight of their steel.

One Dyrian soldier's voice rang out, filled with awe and hope. "It's here! The Salvatians brought their metal-legged creatures to aid us!"

Inside the cockpit, one of the Salvatian pilots chuckled. "Do they even know this is called a walker?"

"Let it go," another pilot remarked. "We're new here; can't blame them for coming up with their own name."

"Heh, fair point," the first pilot conceded with a grin.

"Enough chit-chat," their leader interjected firmly. "Let's assist them."

"Roger that!" the third pilot replied, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

The Balor Walkers opened fire, their kinetic autocannons tearing through the ranks of the enemy heavy knights. Even their formidable armor proved no match for the walkers' powerful ballistic projectiles, which punched through with devastating precision. With the knights neutralized, the allied forces surged forward, bolstered by the Salvatians' intervention.

The coalition forces soon linked up with other allies in the vicinity, pushing back the Lautisan troops who had entrenched themselves near a sacred temple devoted to Arcanus. A fierce battle ensued, with Salvatian mages and soldiers engaging the relentless enemy forces. The mages, their lips moving in silent incantations, unleashed potent magical attacks. The Lautisans retaliated, their own mages wielding staves to cast counterspells, each side locked in a deadly duel of arcane power amidst the chaos of war.

As the Salvatian naval bombardment shook the temple, its stone walls shattering under the relentless artillery strikes, a group of templars emerged from within, their expressions grim and filled with righteous fury. These warriors, blessed by Arcanus, the God of War, had come to the aid of the Lautisans, driven by their shared humanity and divine conviction.

One templar, his voice thundering with unyielding faith, pointed his blade at the Salvatian forces. "You dare attack a temple blessed by our god? You shall be struck down by our holy might, heretics!"

Among the Salvatian troops, a male Neohuman trooper glanced at the approaching templars, his brows furrowed. "Who the hell are those guys?"

Beside him, a Salvatian shock trooper, a Faun with glowing blue eyes, activated his advanced scanner to identify the newcomers. "Ah, shit," he muttered. "Those are templars. They're from the Order of Purity Divine."

The Neohuman's confusion deepened. "The Order of Purity Divine?"

A Dyrian soldier—a leopard beastfolk woman—joined the conversation, her feline ears twitching as she spoke. "I've heard stories about them. They're an independent religious military order, blessed and recognized by the Caelestia Theocracy. Their divine crusades are infamous—they protect sacred temples and destroy anyone they consider heretics."

The Faun shock trooper nodded grimly. "I remember about them in our time before we integrated into Salvatia. They see us as abominations, beings not created by their god. To them, we're inhuman beasts, creatures of hell that need to be purged."

The Neohuman trooper clenched his fists, anger flashing in his eyes. "Since our Supreme Sovereign is extremely anti-theocracy—and we share his views—that makes them our enemies. Let's take those bastards down!"

With a roar, the Salvatian troopers unleashed a war cry, charging into the fray. Sharpshooters, armed with PSR-556 carbines, marksman rifles, and battle rifles, picked off enemy mages and archers from a distance with ruthless efficiency.

Amidst the chaos, the templar leader strode atop a pile of rubble, his sword gleaming as he raised it high. "Templars, charge!" he commanded, his voice resonating with divine zeal.

The templars surged forward, their shields raised to block incoming fire. However, the Salvatians were prepared. A Salvatian shock trooper hefted his blitzkrieg machine gun, its barrel glowing ominously, and opened fire. The weapon's kinetic pulse ballistic rounds tore through the templars' shields as though they were paper, shredding armor and flesh alike. The once-proud templars fell in droves, their bodies scattered and broken, some reduced to unrecognizable fragments.

The battlefield echoed with the sounds of gunfire and shouts, the might of the Salvatians overwhelming even the divine blessings of the templars.

The templar leader staggered, his voice trembling with disbelief as he watched the impossible unfold. "Wha—how did those damned heretics manage to penetrate our shields?" He gritted his teeth behind his ornate helmet, frustration mounting.

"Damn it!" he roared. "Holy divine shield!"

With a desperate command, he and the remaining templars summoned their magic, forming a radiant barrier that shimmered with divine energy. The protective barrier encased them, halting the relentless onslaught of kinetic pulse ballistic projectiles.

A Salvatian shock trooper cursed under his breath, his weapon lowering slightly. "Damn, they've got magic barriers! We don't have the equipment to penetrate that."

Just as doubt began to creep into the minds of the Salvatian soldiers, a deep hum filled the air. A Spearhawk helicopter appeared overhead, its rotor blades slicing through the smoke-filled sky. The hatch door slid open, and from it leaped a squad of Vindictarium spellbreakers, landing gracefully amidst the chaos. Their black-and-gold armor gleamed, marking them as elite operatives.

One of them, a Whitehorn Demonkin with piercing eyes and an air of command, strode forward. "Leave it to us," he said calmly, his voice laced with confidence.

The spellbreakers turned to face the templars, their hands glowing with arcane energy. In unison, they unleashed their magic, weaving complex counterspells that shimmered in the air. The divine barrier flickered, its light faltering before it shattered into shards of dissipating energy.

A templar stumbled back in shock. "What?!"

Another cried out, panic evident. "How is this possible?!"

The templar leader, his composure cracking, stared at the spellbreakers with wide eyes. "There's no way... No one has ever broken the divine spell before..." His voice trailed into stunned silence as Salvatian and Dyrian forces seized the moment, their weapons firing with precision. The templars fell where they stood, the battlefield claiming their lives in a hail of gunfire.

A Dyrian soldier, a woman with feline grace, turned to the Salvatian troops. "Hey, Salvatians! We need to take down the temple!"

The male Neohuman trooper responded with a sharp nod. "Copy that! Bring it down!"

The three towering Balor walkers locked onto their target alongside the Spearhawk helicopter, their arsenals unleashing devastation upon the sacred structure. Missiles streaked through the air, colliding with the temple's walls. Explosions erupted, shaking the ground as stone and sacred relics crumbled under the assault.

When the dust settled, the temple lay in ruins, its destruction marking a decisive blow against the members of the Order of Purity Divine.

...

The Salvatian harpies unfurled their wings, soaring gracefully through the smoke-filled skies over the ruined city. Once a symbol of the Lautisan Empire's grandeur, the battlefield now lay littered with the shattered remnants of monuments and statues honoring Arcanus, the God of War, their splendor torn apart by the relentless chaos of war.

On the ground, Salvatian troopers had fortified their position, setting up a stationary twin-barrel machine gun turret. The weapon roared to life, spitting out streams of bullets that tore through the ranks of Lautisan soldiers and the templars fighting alongside them. Nearby, a Salvatian Hornet gunship hovered menacingly, its cannons raining destruction from above. It obliterated beasts summoned by a skilled tamer, leaving only scattered remains. Even the tamer himself met his end when his position was pinpointed by the gunship's advanced targeting systems.

Two arachno-tanks, their spidery legs scuttling with eerie precision, unleashed torrents of fire from their electron-phased plasma machine guns. The weapons swept through clusters of Lautisan soldiers, knights, and templars, leaving none unscathed.

As the knights arrived on horseback, lances raised for a desperate charge, the Dyrian spear throwers struck first, taking down a few. A Salvatian trooper, manning the twin-barrel machine gun turret, mowed down the rest with brutal efficiency. The arachno-tanks joined in, ensuring no knight survived the ill-fated assault.

When the last of the enemy forces fell silent, the battlefield grew eerily still. The Salvatian troops ceased fire, surveying the carnage.

A Salvatian officer, his demonkin horns gleaming faintly under the fading sunlight, stepped forward, his voice firm and commanding. "Alright, the area is secured. Hold this position and establish the perimeter."

"Yes, sir," a trooper responded crisply, already moving to carry out the order.

Nearby, a Dyrian soldier, a sheep beastfolk with soft but determined features, let out a sigh of relief. "It's a good feeling to stumble upon the empire that will bring an end to this war."

A zebra wildfolk soldier standing beside him nodded, his striped coat glistening with sweat. "With the Salvatians on our side, victory is certain!"

Suddenly, six beams of blinding light descended from the heavens, striking the ground with an otherworldly force. As the beams faded, the figures of six individuals materialized, their forms emerging from the radiance like phantoms. When the light subsided completely, the figures revealed themselves to be humanoid, their presence commanding and unsettling.

A Salvatian trooper, his voice tinged with confusion and fear, broke the stunned silence. "What in Salvador's name are those guys?"

A Dyrian soldier, a male dog beastfolk, cursed under his breath, eyes wide in disbelief. "Oh shit... Oh shit!"

Nearby, a Salvatian officer, his blue eyes glowing with an eerie light, activated his enhanced vision to analyze the figures. His face contorted with shock.

"No..." he muttered, his voice low, "I know those guys... They're apostles!"

A Dyrian soldier, a male sheep beastfolk, shook his head in disbelief, his voice trembling with unease. "I've never seen the apostles before... I thought they were just a rumor."

Fear rippled through the Dyrians as they looked upon the apostles, their bodies stiff with terror. Though the Salvatians were equally shocked by the appearance of these enigmatic figures, they remained composed, weapons at the ready, prepared for the inevitable clash.

One of the apostles, a young man with black hair, stepped forward, his voice smooth and cold as he surveyed the battlefield. "My, it seems someone has dared to destroy the statues of our lord."

A female apostle with long, dark blue hair spoke next, her voice chilling. "They shall pay the price for attacking the temple and the statues dedicated to our god of war, Arcanus."

A third apostle, a young girl with pink hair tied into two ponytails, gripped a massive halberd, her laughter filling the air like the rattle of a madwoman. "Oh, it looks like we've got ourselves some blasphemers and heretics to slaughter," she giggled, her voice manic with glee.

A fourth apostle, a young man with short green hair, smiled darkly, his eyes flashing with determination. "Indeed, we proceed with our god's work without hesitation."

The apostles, seemingly in unison, readied their weapons, their deadly intentions clear. Without a moment's hesitation, the Salvatians opened fire, their bullets and energy-based weapons hissing through the air toward the apostles. The Dyrians, though reluctant, joined the fray, launching arrows to support their allies, each soldier unwilling to face the wrath of the apostles alone.

The apostles moved with deadly grace, cutting down both Salvatians and Dyrians in their wake. The Salvatians, their blue eyes activated, could sense the impending danger and swiftly dodged the apostles' vicious attacks. Despite their speed, the apostles proved too elusive, their movements too fast for even the most precise kinetic pulse ballistic projectiles to land a hit.

One male apostle, his form a blur of motion, leaped at a Dyrian soldier, his long-edged blade slicing through the soldier's body in a single fluid motion. He then swung his blade toward a Salvatian shock trooper to his right, decimating the trooper in a single strike.

Meanwhile, a Salvatian trooper manning a stationary twin-barrel machine gun turret unleashed a torrent of fire at a female apostle with pink hair tied in two ponytails. She spun her halberd expertly, deflecting the projectiles with an effortless grace.

"Oh! How exciting," she taunted, her voice laced with amusement. "Your kind of magic shoots so fast... But still not fast enough to kill me!"

With a maniacal laugh, she dashed toward the Salvatian trooper, raising her halberd high and bringing it down with brutal force, cleaving the trooper in two. She then turned, only to see two Salvatian arachno-tanks advancing toward her, their electron-phased plasma machine guns firing relentlessly. She nimbly dodged from side to side, narrowly avoiding the deadly energy projectiles.

"My, my, what fascinating metal beasts they have here," she mused, her voice dripping with curiosity. "How did they manage to find them, creatures that shouldn't even exist?"

Before she could launch another attack, a male apostle with long, red curly hair appeared out of nowhere. With the speed of a lightning strike, he swung his divine lance, targeting the legs of the arachno-tanks. With a sharp crack, the machines collapsed to the ground. He then leapt atop one, stabbing through it with lethal precision.

"Hey, that's my kill!" Peony exclaimed, her pout evident as she watched her rival's actions.

"My apologies, Peony," the male apostle, Rohan, said with a shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But I already killed my enemy."

Peony scowled, crossing her arms. "You really know how to be rude to a girl, Rohan."

A Salvatian hornet gunship appeared in the sky, missiles trailing behind it as it targeted a dark-haired female apostle, known as Melanie. She darted away from the explosion and unslung her divine bow, drawing an arrow as she aimed with deadly accuracy. The arrow shot through the air, striking the gunship's engine and causing it to sputter.

"I'm hit! I'm hit!" the Salvatian pilot shouted, his voice frantic. "Retreating now!"

The gunship managed to limp away, its damaged engine enough to force it into a retreat. Melanie held her aim on it for a moment longer, but then let it go, deciding not to pursue it further.

A black-haired male apostle, Donovan, appeared beside her, wiping the blood from his sword as he surveyed the battlefield.

"Everything is clear?" Melanie asked.

"Yes," Donovan replied coolly. "Though that flying metal beast managed to escape, it looks injured. Speaking of which, where did those heretics find those iron creatures?"

"Probably some secret spell of summoning," answered Verdon, a young apostle with short green curly hair. He wiped the blood from his scythe, his expression calm despite the carnage around him.

"But it doesn't matter," he added, his voice low. "They are all dead."

The apostles gathered together, their eyes cold and focused on the destruction they had wrought. Donovan's gaze swept over the ruins, his voice heavy with disdain.

"Seeing them cause so much damage, desecrating the temples and statues of the God of War, Arcanus, it seems like they are everywhere."

Peony tilted her head thoughtfully. "Probably why the Lautisan emperor desperately needs our help. Even though we've intervened before, this is quite new. I mean, who would dare to attack the empire blessed by our god of war?"

Rohan's voice was firm as he spoke, his resolve unwavering. "We should know who is working with these Dyrians. For now, it's best to spread out and assist the Lautisans."

Melanie nodded in agreement, her gaze steely. "Indeed. Our god demands the elimination of those blasphemers who desecrated his statues—the ones the Lautisan people built for him. The enemy shall face the punishment."

"And they shall," Donovan said with quiet certainty. "So everyone, go and spread out across the city. Eliminate the enemy before they desecrate more of the temples and statues dedicated to our lord."

"As your command!" the apostles responded in unison, their voices filled with unwavering loyalty.

And so, the apostles spread out across the city, each of them determined to assist the Lautisan people and the Order of Purity Divine in their crusade to wipe out the Salvatian and Dyrian forces, bringing their god's wrath down upon the blasphemers.

...

Onboard the Heli-carrier, Bridge room

Inside the bridge room of the Heli-carrier, Xavier Salvador's eyes snapped open, his senses alert to an incoming threat.

"What is it?" Frieda asked, noticing the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Xavier's gaze was intense, his expression dark. "Frieda..." He paused, his voice steady but filled with certainty. "I sense that the apostles are already there."

Shalina's eyes widened, her voice trembling with shock. "Do, do you say apostles?"

The young lioness princess was visibly rattled by the news, the weight of the situation sinking in. Xavier nodded grimly.

"Someone must've been able to call their god," he said, his tone cold and determined. "To send down apostles to eliminate our forces."

Frieda's brows furrowed, disbelief clouding her features. "Hold on, you sure?"

Xavier didn't hesitate. "Captain, open the communication channel."

"Yes, sir," came the immediate reply from Felix, the werewolf captain, as he pressed a button to initiate the comms link. The static buzzed for a moment before a voice came through.

"This is the 28th armored division," the Salvatian officer said, breathless and frantic. "We are under attack! I repeat, we are under attack by superpowered individuals identified as apostles. The Vindictarium Order managed to hold them off, but not for long. We need to—Oh God, no!"

The line went abruptly silent.

Shalina gasped, her face pale with dread. "Oh dear God."

Her maid, Charia, stood beside her, her expression share same as the princess as they absorbed the gravity of the situation. Xavier's face remained stoic, his mind already calculating their next move.

Felix's voice broke the silence. "Sir, the apostles pose a great threat to our troops. They need reinforcement."

Frieda, though tense, remained calm. "Then send the available units to assist them."

Xavier shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "No. They've probably split up to counter our forces in different areas of the city. Even with the Vindictarium Order facing them, that won't be enough to defeat them." His voice was low, but resolute. "Looks like there's only one thing left to do."

He walked to the console, and Captain Felix stepped aside, giving him room to act. Xavier pressed a button, his voice now echoing with authority as he spoke into the comms.

"This is your Supreme Sovereign. We have a high-level threat destroying our military forces. Send out my Black Death Legion to engage them immediately."

The Salvatian operator's voice came through clearly. "Understood, my Supreme Sovereign."

With that, Xavier turned away from the console and walked toward the exit. Shalina called out to him in a mix of concern and confusion.

"Wait. Where are you going?" She asked, her eyes wide with worry.

Xavier's face remained impassive as he spoke, not turning back to face her. "I'm going down there and helping my men. I'm going to kill the apostles, and then, if their god decides to show himself, I'll kill him too."

With those words, he teleported away to the Lautisan empire, leaving the bridge room in a heavy silence.

Charia's voice trembled as she spoke, her worry evident. "Is he... Is he seriously going to fight the apostles?"

Frieda, standing calm and composed beside the princess, gave a reassuring smile. "Rest assured, your highness, the Supreme Sovereign has the capability to kill immortals like the apostles."

Shalina's worry deepened. "How can you be sure? There's no possible way to fight them—not only that, but killing a god? He'll get himself killed!"

Frieda's expression softened, her voice filled with quiet confidence. "Don't doubt him, your highness. I can be sure that he has the power to face the apostles—and their god. They've never met him until now. Let's watch from here, and you will see how strong he is, how easily he can defeat them. They will be remembered to this day where they will be facing the supreme sovereign of the Salvatia, and he won't show them mercy."

She turned her gaze toward the battlefield, her eyes filled with unwavering faith in the Supreme Sovereign's abilities.