"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

Chapter One: Unexpected Visitors

Hardy, Falmart Goddess of the Underworld was bored. She had inherited the power of a deity more than a few millennia ago, ascending from mere apostle to full godhood.

In her time of eternal existence, Hardy had learnt one thing. Being immortal wasn't as enjoyable as she had imagined.

Nothing interested her anymore, nor it surprised her. She had seen the mortal Arctic War and was not particularly impressed by the sheer blandness of the battle, although Emroy seemed to enjoy it. She had tamed the Fire Dragon, had seen countless events unfold within the Mortal Region, yet it was all stale and uninteresting.

The goddess desired entertainment, a true enjoyment, something genuinely exciting. She had even demanded a marriage for Emroy's apostle, but unfortunately, she clearly expressed her disagreement, it doesn't matter, the girl was but a mere demigod, eventually, the apostle will be bound to her will.

However, such a wish was still far from being fulfilled, and waiting for several decades was not the most entertaining thing to do. Watching as souls entered her realm had become quite boring after the first few centuries.

She yearned a change, an unexpected event, something unpredictable that would spark her interest for the moment.

Hardy used her divine vision and gazed upon the mortal realm, the spanning human empire was prosperous and corrupted as ever. The Goddess of Underworld frowned in irritation, if the mortals continued any longer, they would disturb the natural balance of the world. Something neither she or other deities wanted to deal with.

She sighed in contempt, a simple plague wouldn't do if it would end up killing an entire civilization and reduce her potential followers.

Her celestial gaze momentarily flickered outside of her reality, beyond the veil of the dimensional border. Her presence stared at the magnificent and chaotic nature of the Infinite Cosmic Web. Each strand represents the existence of another world, this was how she was able to pluck mortals from another reality and brought it here in the form of the Gate - yet Hardy could feel her ability to do so had dwindled, she was not able to open the Gate as frequently as she used to.

Then her mind caught something quite interesting, a reality that seemed to have something distinct within it, seemingly lingered close to her realm.

Hardy smiled, judging from the time essence that flowed through the strand, it seems like this reality was worthy of her attention.

Before she was able to drag the strand into her, another presence made itself known. Hardy was momentarily startled before her attention averted toward the other strand, flowing with much greater essence. She stared at it in awe, her mind probing and poking the strand of dimension. It rippled with a magnificent and powerful presence.

So powerful that if she were to connect the Gate, it would last for several aeons.

Hardy grinned, she knew not of the contents within this reality - but she was greatly interested. The goddess discarded the previous world, as it floated in the infinite abyss where a certain Japanese man had walked toward a manga convention, oblivious that his world had just avoided a peculiar fate.

With her power, she pulled the strand, surprised that it drew to her with such ease. She could still feel a certain resistance pushing against her will, but it seems that this dimension was willing to become intertwined with the Mortal Region.

The goddess licked her lips, as she twiddled her metaphysical fingers. With a single tug, the strand connected to the Region. Hardy glanced in surprise as she saw the unstable distorted space began to naturally stabilize itself, an action usually involved her influence.

"This… is interesting," her eyes glistened.

It was not long before the empire reacted as reports of mysterious presence manifested on the peak of Alnus Hill, which prompted the emperor to prepare an invasion force.

Hardy, proud of herself, simply stared. She seemed to have attracted the attention of other deities as well as she felt their presence on the hill, observing what was about to come. Due to the natural essence spewing out of the Gate, they couldn't clearly see what was transpiring on the hill, thus Hardy simply waited with a smug grin on her face, awaiting the results that it would soon bear.

New Yox, Terra

History had taught Lucas Bright many things about war, either everyone's the good guy, or no one is.

Hundred thousand years ago, the human race went extinct, wiped out from the galaxy, leaving only ancient relics of the past.

Ninety thousand years ago, several post-human species or Children of Humanity had quickly achieved bronze age and began to slaughter each other from their own planet.

Seventy thousand years ago the Children of Humanity across the Milky Way simultaneously reached Type 1 civilization, some had ascended from that stage to another through cooperation and peace, while others reached the final frontier simply to escape their godforsaken world.

Fifty thousand years ago the first galactic civilization formed in the Milky Way, followed by several others, which quickly led to two millennia of constant warfare.

Ten thousand years ago the first interspecies galactic community was founded, forming the first democratic Harmonic Alliance. Which was then followed by the imperialistic Sirius Sovereign and the plutocratic Prosperity Megacorpos.

A few centuries ago, the Death War had cost the lives of five hundred billion souls and two hundred worlds. With both the Sovereign and the Alliance affected greatly from the conflict, it was by his action that it resolved itself - albeit in a rather unstable agreement between two galactic factions.

Lucas had a fair share of war and conflict, he was the Apostle of Null, the demigod served under no god, he was considered to be one of the Rogue Acolyte, a Lost Demigod and the Broken Deity.

Yet he was respected amongst many pantheons.

His enemies would call him False Apostle whilst his supporters would revere him as the future God of Hope. Lucas doubted that.

He yearned for peace and wished nothing more than that, yet reality seemed to be such a cruel existence.

Unlike other demigods born from a mortal husk and given the Divinity Gift by the New Pantheons, Lucas was born - or rather, created with the gift of gods.

Forged from the Cosmic Shaper, Lucas was born in the womb of a cold machine, birthed out of synthetic placentae and swam within the chemical vats of lab produced nutrients.

His creator, the Gen Shepyr, a pale humanoid alien race with almost no hair, two wide lidless eyes, thin lips, nearly skeletal bodies and mostly clad in advanced synthetic robes. From stolen celestial artifacts, the Shepyr had collected various godly genetic materials and created their own demigod - him.

They thought they could control the power of god, in their hubris they assumed that a divine being can be contained.

They were wrong.

The incidents of the Shepyr was many centuries ago and Lucas would rather forget about it. He shook his head from his thoughts and glazed at the window outside, observing the scenery of New Yox, a city created in the honor of the ancient New York.

The skyscrapers, reaching kilometers in height, were made out of synth-metal and exotic crystalline material. Shaped into magnificent spires of glistening, reflective beauty as well displaying architectural and engineering masterpiece. It was unlike the bleak metallic spires of the pre-Alliance age.

Countless holographic advertisement displaying their products, boasting the quality of their items. Lucas swiveled his head toward a mirror, catching a glimpse of himself.

He was average in height, silvery hair, lean and athletic body built, bright blue eyes and chiselled chin. His most distinct physiology was his feline ears poking from his head, flickering and twitching occasionally along with his heavily furred silvery tail, reaching to his ankles. Lucas was all intent and purpose, a nekomata.

One out of many post-human species that had evolved from the Evolution Bomb detonated across the galaxy as humanity's last defiance against their own death.

It was peculiar how almost all post-humans resembled greatly with human mythical folklore. It was certainly odd, but remained unanswered and frankly, unquestioned throughout millennia. There were also many other alien races that did not belong under the category of post-humans and had evolved without any human interaction, one of them being the aforementioned Gen Shepyr.

Currently, the Apostle of Null, the Artificial Demigod had simply stood still, admiring the sight of the city. He observed as a cargo vessel entered and escaped the atmosphere, the bright orange hue in the sky reminded him of shooting stars.

A knock on his door startled Lucas, but he quickly answered the door.

As the door slid open, a kitsune appeared, a humanoid with fox-like physiology, especially apparent at the ears and tails. The male kitsune before him, black hair with an equally black suit, wearing dark glasses stood stoically, expressing little emotion.

Lucas arched an eyebrow, even after many millennia, business attire remained the same with only a few key differences being visible. "Yes?" He queried.

The kitsune, a federal agent working with the government simply stood agape at him before regaining his composure, "Commander Basalt wanted to talk to you, Your Holiness."

Lucas squinted, "why can't he just message me?"

"It is urgent," the agent stoically replied.

The apostle sighed, his eyes wandered back to his room, staring at the wide window. "Alright, I have nothing to do anyway. Oh and also-"

The agent spun around, both ears perked up whilst his tail swirled to the right. Lucas pointed a finger in the air to emphasize his words, "don't call me Your Holiness. Just Mr Bright is fine."

"But-"

"No buts, I'm not a true demigod remember?" Lucas said whilst he crossed his arms and tapped his feet. His tail animated to display a commanding position.

The agent's lips parted, he was about to refute but being under the glare of a person who seemed like a teenager while simultaneously being more than two centuries old felt quite awkward. In the end, the agent sighed, "yes Sir."

Lucas beamed, as he trotted forward. "Good, now let's see what the commander had to say."

Commander Vando Basalt, a dwarf from Forgen. A planet that was heavily industrialised that it was thick of smog and pollution, the only thing kept the environment from completely collapsing was the sheer advancement of terraforming technology and genetically modified local floral lifeforms.

Being from a world befitted with the title Hell of Plasteel, his body was naturally durable and stronger than average dwarves.

His thick brown beard, common amongst dwarves, decorated with gold rings. He was muscular, yet short, a height only a few centimetres away from Lucas.

His eyes glaring at the holo projector before him. Three hours ago, a strange stone structure had appeared in the middle of Clover District and had been reported to exhibit unnaturally high amounts of theurgic energy.

Vando had quickly deduced it to be a warp tech of some kind, possibly a hypergate.

He had alerted the local authorities but didn't take any action yet. A drone had been sent to read its energy signature and study the nature of the structure.

The sound of the door de-materialised distracted Vando from the projector.

The solid hard light construct, a wonder of magitech development that utilizes mystical force of theurgic energy to hold the position of photons tightly together to form a physical barrier.

It was used in many combat situations, often applied in shield technology.

The person behind the door was Lucas Bright, the walking legend himself, an unstoppable force of fury that had fought against the Khala Horde, faced against the Hyperreal Legions, defeated the Modroids and the one who banished Hades, a literal god of the underworld itself.

Vando quelled his awe and addressed the demigod. "Lord Bright, are you doing well?"

"Yes?" The apostle muttered in confusion. "You know I can't get sick right?"

"Sorry My Lord," Vando smirked. "Just wanted to start a conversation."

"Yeah, okay cool. Oh, and I would appreciate, if you all stopped referring to me as 'Your Holiness', 'Lord' and 'Eminence'," Lucas said with a pout.

Vando for his part, smiled. He and Lucas had known each other since the recent Grey Zone conflict a decade ago. His gaze returned toward the projector, "there's something we need to discuss."

"That's why I'm here," Lucas replied coolly. The apostle glared at the holo projector, before he frowned himself.

It displayed a strange stone structure, not dissimilar to the pre-galactic human culture. The Artificial Demigod simply stared at the hologram, studying the architecture and the design, noting the presence of high theurgic energy emanated from the construct. "What is that?"

"We don't know," Vando replied with a heavy sigh. "All we understand is that it is some kind of a hypergate."

"Sovereign technology?" Lucas hypothesised as he folded his arms, still staring at the projector, myriads of thoughts and theories flickered in his mind. He observed it closer before his brows furrowed, "no, this not it - maybe the work of a Pantheons?"

"Why would the gods do this?" Vando questioned, still felt odd at the concept of deity existed. "Seems counterproductive to me. Beside the only Pantheons that would do this is Loki, and we both know he's not capable of doing anything anymore."

"Maybe-" the projector bleeped, Lucas held his tongue as he saw the strange hypergate warped, inky black presence manifested at the center before something emerged.

Vando's and Lucas' eyes widened in shock.

What seems to be an army of medieval men, wielding swords, spears and shields, riding horses and even brought a few beast with them that resembles so much of the pre-galactic orcs and goblins, alongside the ancestral draconic species known as the wyverns.

What was even more surprising was the people who led the battle, majorities of which sporting steel-bronze armor with a slight presence of cloth. They were all humans, what was thought to be long extinct creatures, a precursor of almost one third of the galaxy's population.

"What…?"

Steadily they trickled out of the structure, each clad in the same primitive armor. They all seemed to have a shocked expression plastered over their face, but it was masked by their mostly stoic expression.

The crowds that gathered simply stared in shock and confusion, and had already cameras pointing toward the army, recording the event to be sent to the intranet.

It was a moment later that one of the more ornately armored humans yelled something in their language and they all drew their weapons, charging toward civilians and began their massacre.

Lucas widened his eyes in horror as he saw them killing innocent without reasoning or compassion. He darted his eyes toward Vando, and the commander simply nodded, "go."

The apostle ran outside the room, Vando quickly contacted every Enforcer base on the planet. Already, he was bombarded with thousands of messages from other military stations informing him of the situation. He paced himself out of the room and into a hall where he tapped into the broadcast system, "we got a Scythe Alert situation! All citizens evacuate immediately, Clover District is to be evacuated immediately!"

Vando heard footsteps, he turned his head only to see Admiral Derrick Holstein, a leporid. A humanoid species with rabbit-like features, their most apparent physiology being the ears and differently structured legs.

The man was tall and lean, his right eye replaced with cybernetic augmentation. Hair dark brown with his remaining organic eye light green, "Commander Basalt."

"Are you seeing this?" Vando muttered in disbelief.

"I have Sir and already prepared my troops," the admiral replied. "We don't know where they came from, what they truly are or what their goal is - our mission right now is to defend the civilians and secure the city from this… invaders."

"Deploy light crew vessels only, and bring one corvette to the fight, we don't know what they're capable of," Vando commanded.

The leporid saluted, "Sir, yes Sir."

The military acted quickly, their armory bay was already thick with activities as troops began to suit up and armed themselves.

Vehicles being deployed, sending single pilot aerial fighters in the combat zone.

They were the Legion of Armed Enforcers, the Alliance frontier soldiers who were responsible for defending the Harmonic Alliance from foreign threats.

Mostly clad in slim and lean exosuit with intricately designed armor plate made of plasteel and mithril, above layers of polymorphic nanite based fabric. The exosuit was made more prominent as advanced exoskeletal augmentation was embedded within the armor, tracing the spinal column and limbs.

There were five Enforcer Combat Class, being the Troopers, Psychons, Reapers, Phantoms and the Impalers. All serving the Alliance, to defend and protect against all who dared threatened the democratic galactic community. And even amongst the Main Class were divided into various Sub-Class.

The Troopers, with three Sub-Class (Marines, Marauders, Hunters) were main foot infantry troops that made up almost 30% of the Enforcer force. They were categorized as soldiers with no or little psychic abilities and used conventional tech weapons in combat, often deployed as the main frontal assault.

The Psychons with three Sub-Class (Telepaths, Telekinetic, Clairvoyant). They were soldiers that exhibited higher levels of psychic abilities. Utilized as the support group in covert missions and were the most essential assets for informational extraction and even minor precognitive sights.

The Reapers, split into two Sub-Class (Cloaks, Daggers) were discreet infantry forces excelled in the usage of Void Force, an enigmatic energy particles that nullified theurgic essence. Depending on the sub-class, Reapers would either excel in close quarter combat or marksmanship.

Phantoms were a rare unit amongst the Enforcer's infantry, a group of ethereal humanoid beings known simply as the Wraith. Their intangible body made them nearly invincible to conventional weaponry, most Phantoms inhabit within the body of a machine to enhance their militaristic capability.

And lastly, the Impalers. Elite groups of soldiers separated into various Sub-Class, (Purifiers, Purgers, Exterminator, Warlock, Dread Wardens). They were the best amongst the best, the highest ranking infantry force, born within labs, molded with diluted genes of demigods and given the best cybernetic and mystical enhancement. A single Impaler, was an equivalent to a walking tank on their own, similar to a mech.

Admiral Holstein observed the battleground, as thousands of vessels, ready for deployment. He awaited the order of the World Baron, the overseer and leader of this planet.

Thus far there were no reports for an action yet, the man nervously watched as armies of medieval soldiers marched on, killing innocent lives.

Clover District, New Yox City, Terra

Colt Formal could only stand in awe as his eyes glazed at the magnificent combination of silvery, dark metal and deep blue crystalline structure reaching to the heavens, all in different shapes and designs, stretching into the horizon.

His wonder expanded as he saw floating, metallic carriage accelerated past them at a mind boggling speed that even the fastest horse couldn't compete.

The ethereal and large illusion spell cast upon the bright blue sky, displaying strange wonders of this world. For a moment, he contemplated if this were the lands of gods.

His awe was caught short as the legionnaire beside him barked an order for invasion. Immediately, like mindless, faithful dogs, the imperial soldiers heed their leader's command and rushed forward, followed by the lumbering demi-humans.

Cavalry was the first to strike their enemy, both who rode horses and wyvern were faster than their foot infantry, quickly cutting down anyone who dared to fight.

Not that there were any who opposed them. Colt gazed in pity as he saw an imperial who stabbed one of the civilians, and the fact that all of them were demi-humans made it even more heart wrenching for a man such as him, who respects other races equally.

If it were under different circumstances, he would love the opportunity to trade and learn their culture. He reminiscences his daughter's voice, her cute face as he watched her play with the maids. Colt sighed, suppressing his will. His eyes glazed at the legionnaire captain besides him, clad in the same steel plated armor as him.

"Hah! Demi-humans scums, you can never match the might of the empire!" The man yelled, boasting rather arrogantly as he unsheathed his sword forward. "Kill these savages!"

Colt frowned in disapproval, "savages, Lord Cicero? Look at those structures, even the gods themselves couldn't compete."

Cicero glared for a mere moment before he instinctively lowered his head submissively, Colt Formal was after all a high ranking noble. A soldier such as him cowered at a thought to defy the word of an upper class citizen. "Bah, pretty buildings means nothing. I admit, these spires are something exquisite, perhaps they are masters of architecture. Maybe we can capture a few talented builders for the empire?"

Colt simply sighed, it was useless to rationalize against the arrogance of an imperial. The fact that these people could construct something so magnificent means there's something more than meet the eye. Thus far, there's nothing stopping them yet, but Colt was no fool, he expected retaliation soon and he prayed that the gods were merciful.

Hendrick Jaeldebor, a simple Enforcer Trooper who had trained for three years before he ranked into a lieutenant. His metallic exosuit armor felt light despite the amount of heavy metal used to construct the suit, he supposed he was grateful that mass reduction spell enchantment existed for a purpose.

Hendrick recalled what he learned back in school, how their ancestors discovered the existence of True Science, or in other words; magic. How it had rapidly changed civilization forever and opened to a new era of technology and advancement.

His eyes flickered at the thin holographic 'window', staring at the expanse of intricate structures seemingly endless. He, and several others were inside the standard Enforcer infantry deployment aircraft, the Shrimp. It was rather small, only housing six units. The aircraft had four wings, two main one and another pair of smaller one, each used different sets of anti gravity spell generators. The Shrimp's angular body yet curved nose was the most apparent feature amongst aerials.

The Shrimp itself was not equipped with heavy weaponry, only two auto-turrets between the wings and a single plasmatic railgun underneath the nose.

Hendrik averted his gaze toward his squad mates. Four in total, including him. A Reaper, clad in dark metallic exosuit armor with a much more slender body built, draped under cloak made out of micro-fabrics, constructed from collective formation of microscopic machines, each designed to deflect energy and light alike. Practically acting as a shield and invisibility cloak. Unlike the dark crystalline visor of Enforcer Troop, a Reaper only wore a metallic mask covering their nose and mouth, only revealing the eyes.

The Reaper, simply known to be Enigma amongst her brethren sat silently, seemingly brooding alone.

Next to her, another Marine Trooper, Aerulle Dynis, a high elf with light lime hair, violet eyes and smooth face compliment her rather slender build. Much like what was depicted in the old fantasy lore of humanity, Aerulle had mastered the art of marksmanship, albeit not through bow and arrow, but her automatic rifle.

The last of his teammates was a harpy, Jordan Zenn. A spiky redhead, with a few yellow strands of hair that were not too dissimilar than feathers, matches with his scarlet feathered bird wings that ended with five clawed talons, his legs covered with specially modified suit design to accommodate his bird-like legs. Jordan was clad in lightweight Enforcer armor, mostly to prevent from inhibiting his flight. Given to him were a harpy designed automated blast-rifle, a small and compact auto loading micro missile launcher weapon specifically created and designed for his talons.

The vehicle shuddered, decelerated itself from sublight speed and slowly descended. When they dropped, Hendrik immediately noticed the amount of medieval soldiers assaulting civilians with awfully crude weapons.

He frowned, where the hell did these people come from? Did they accidentally discover space travel? What was more surprising was that these people were humans, long thought to be an extinct race.

However, seeing them attacking random civilians and (attempting) to damage the city, was a clear indication that whoever these people were, they're an enemy of the Alliance and must be dealt with great prejudice.

His weapon, the Piercer or the APR-V17 (Arcane Plasma Rifle), a standard issued automatic plasma rifle. It had a very sleek and angular design, mostly bland grey in color, a neural connected psychic interface - designed to synch the user's mind with their weapons, automatically able to utilize their arsenal with nothing more than a mere thought and willpower.

It fired light plasma rounds, bluish streak of energy bolts generated from the same power that lit the stars. With magic, they were able to contain a stable micro fusion reactor and triple its power, concentrate its energy and projected into a form of plasmatic projectiles, whilst at the same time forged a spell that would reduce the usually inevitable entropic waste produced by the high energy gun.

The plasma round itself was coated with thin layers of ethereal, translucent matter. A mystical blanket that generated physical mass for the projectile, carrying a large kinetic impact upon hitting their target.

Their enemy, who was once a proud imperial soldier, who boasted and gloated their might to the other worlders, with their swords and spears at hand, their shields rose high and their face masked with glee - stood no chance against the Enforcer's power.

Basic plasma rounds of the lightest mass were able to penetrate through multiple enemy forces. Their armor, useless against their techno-sorcery.

The imperial soldier stared in horror as they saw their allies cut down like bugs. They screamed in terror, cursing in their native tongue.

Enigma the Reaper, though not a Psychon, had mastered basic psychic abilities and were able to decipher their language.

"What sorcery is this?!"

"T- they're fighting back, what is the meaning of this!?"

"Mages!"

Enigma frowned, their enemy couldn't even grasp the basics of plasma weaponry, just who were they? However, their fear and confusion was only temporary, clouded with newfound rage.

"Kill those mages!" One of them yelled with a sword pointed toward her specifically. "Their magic couldn't match the power of the empire!"

Enigma sneered at their sheer arrogance and insolence. She pulled out her weapon, a long ranged sniper rifle, it was almost half her body length and it was incredibly flat. The rectangular barrel, designed to channel magnetic fields to direct the projectile.

She mentally willed the weapon to activate, a fraction of a second later, it chimed - a subtle glowing energy coiled at the barrel before a single blue plasma bolt generated and flew forward. It penetrated one of their heads easily before she averted her attention toward the others, the HUD already marked the enemy position.

With the same stoic expression, Enigma released another barrage of energy bolt to her enemies.

Lucas wondered if he was dreaming.

Maybe this was all just a dream and he was still in that chamber, in his childhood, trying to escape.

Old memories flooded his mind, unpleasant and uninviting. His enemies, all clad in primitive armor wielding primitive weapons simply stared at him in awe and terror as he killed more than a dozen of them, less than a minute.

"(K- kill that catfolk now!)" One of the soldiers yelled in an odd language.

He was not that proficient in psychic, only knew and mastered the art of mental blocking, he was skilled enough to read their emotions and intention to get a vague grasp of the meaning behind their words - but unable to fully comprehend the sentences himself. He parried another attack from an orc, it was odd to see that it was not augmented with any crude mechanical prosthetic he usually saw on orcs.

In his hand, a white silvery hilt with a slight trace of gold, projecting a blade-like energy structure made entirely out of pure theurgic energy. The glowing golden and silvery essence emanated from the weapon was enough to intimidate his enemy, especially when they saw that the blade was able to slice through a full grown orc like butter.

It was his Vestige, a sacred artifact given to every apostle that ever existed. The Vestige were their personal weapons, it represents who they were individually.

Lucas was still unsure how the Shepyr was able to find a suitable Vestige for him to use, and he had long forgotten such questions in his mind.

Lucas' eyes flickered at the incoming arrows, with a simple swift movement, he spun his sword and precisely cut through the majority of the projectiles, leaving only few to clatter against the metallic floor.

An orc tried to attack him from the back, without bothering to use his weapon, Lucas held the enemy's wooden club with his hand, forming cracks and splinters in the process. Before the orc could respond, Lucas spun his heel and shove his Vestige into its skull.

"(H- he was able to stop the orc attack with one hand!)" One of them yelled in fear.

Lucas glared, he understands none of their words but could quite clearly feel their fear. He flicked his wrist, his weapon glistened menacingly. "I do hope you all start to drop your weapon and lie down."

They didn't, instead the medieval soldiers began to rally themselves into what seems to be equivalent of the ancient Roman tortoise formation. The apostle sighed, "well I guess this isn't like the movies."

He chuckled to himself, two centuries of battle, still hadn't grown out of his immaturity. He sheathed his sword, much to the human's confusion and whipped out a simple mystic gun, and aimed it toward the medieval knights. The gun was small, only roughly the size of his fist, if only slightly bigger. It was white with a smooth polymer surface, the grip was rather thick, layered with neural psychic linked rubber substances as he held it. In front of the grip was where the main weapon was attached, a rather simple cuboid structure with a flat vertical hole at the front of the gun.

Unlike conventional weaponry, mystic guns derived its power from theurgic essence. Powered from the force of thaumaturgy itself, the weapon charged before it overloaded - sending forth a powerful beam of mystical energy. It tore through reality, disintegrated flesh and metal alike, melting solid objects into liquid sludge.

Lucas stared impassively at the brutality, years of perfected combat, he was immune to gore. And he hated it, he despised that part of him, the portion of him that was morphed into a killing machine. Then he heard a subtle crack in the sky, his head craned upward only to see the presence of a single corvette ship descending into battle.

From the surface, he could see hundreds of fighter aircraft detached themselves from the corvette and began to join the fight.

Lucas whipped his head toward where Clover District was, only to see an incoming wyvern barreling towards him, with the rider wielding a spear pointed at him.

The apostle arched an eyebrow and his body tensed.

"(Die demi-humans scums!)" Was the man's last words as Lucas suddenly propelled himself forward toward the beast, much to the human's surprise. He quickly shoved his foot on the snout of the reptile, with an impact of a moving truck. His gaze remained at the man, who simply stood, agape, confused of what just happened in a matter of a second.

Lucas thrust his hand forward, limiting his strength and knocked the person away from his ride. The wyvern was still dazed, possibly even suffering minor haemorrhage. Decided that such a fate was too cruel for the flying lizard, Lucas grabbed his Vestige and stabbed it through the wyvern's head. Thick crimson spilt before it sizzled after physical contact upon the glowing celestial blade.

The human sputtered on the ground, slowly, he pushed himself up glaring at Lucas in apprehension. His hand grasping the spear shakily, "(w- who are you?)"

Lucas stare impassively, "I don't know what the fuck you just said, so I'm going to assume it's an insult."

The man charged, with his weapon at hand. Lucas sidestepped before he slammed his knee toward the human, the pain was too unbearable it immediately shut his brain down.

The apostle huffed, sighing for a bit before continuing his work. His eyes darted toward the street, noting the presence of other Enforcers sweeping away their enemy. Sheathing back his divine weapon, he jogged toward the hypergate structure.

"What is our status?" Admiral Holstein queried.

"Enemy force is not putting up much of a fight, but their numbers are still trickling, their aerial force seems very effective in covering ground but not much against a few ground to air missiles. We need more troops," another replied.

"So far we've been doing good. The Marines are handling this situation very well, we have no reported casualties yet."

"Hell we don't even have a report of any injuries yet!" One of the military brass stated. "Who the hell are these guys?"

Vando frowned, he had a strong suspicion about this situation. "Perhaps this is a distraction?"

"No," Barequil Nemesti, a dark elf from Farworld-II of the Cyron System. He was a master of psychic abilities, being a former Psychon had its perk. "Multiple Psychons had reported that these enemies were obsoletely confused right now, they are clueless about us as much as we are about them."

"How can they create a hypergate without even the knowledge of simple kinetic weaponry at least?"

Vando frowned, this was all very confusing. "I don't know, and frankly it doesn't matter anymore. We can speculate later, our main mission now is to push back these… Romans wannabe and secure the hypergate."

"Is the Council responding yet?" Another one of the commanders questioned.

The dwarf shook his head and sighed, "nope. Completely silent, but don't worry I had sent Lucas Bright to handle the main force."

Everyone within the room immediately stared silently in shock. The dark elf, Barequil was the first to respond, "t- the Null Apostle?"

"Yes, he will be our vanguard, attacking the enemy main force and reduces their morale," Vando stated.

"A heavy assault," one of the commanders muttered. "Not a bad idea, I suppose we don't need reinforcement."

"Don't be cocky, he may be an apostle but he's not invincible. We can't rely on him to handle tens of thousands of these human soldiers," Vando quickly interjected. "We need more soldiers, we barely sent a thousand Marauders yet, let alone the Marines."

"Can't help it, we can't send more troops without the Council's approval," Barequil commented. "That being said, what the fuck is the Council doing?"

The rest of them shared the same sentiment, a city in one of Alliance Core World had been deliberately attacked, albeit by a primitive force, yet they were silent of this event.

"Have you contacted the World Baron?" Vando questioned.

"I have, he had agreed to send two hundred defense droids to the battle and a few available Hawk fighters," replied the dark elf calmly. "Most civilians had evacuated, but we still got a few reported missing people."

Vando seethed, growling to himself. His eyes glared at the projector, observing the 'battle' with scrutinizing eyes.

Domitius, an imperial soldier who was ranked to be a part of the wyvern corps, an elite air force cavalry only for the worthy.

He was a proud man and had brought honor to his family's name. When he first joined the expeditionary force, to claim the land beyond the Gate, he was ecstatic. His face only mirrored with glee and excitement, a sentiment shared amongst almost all of his comrades.

His first impression of this world was awe. Marvelled at the sheer magnificence of their structures, they were not as savages as the Empire had thought.

As he flew above their clear blue sky, aware of how few clouds present, Domitius told himself that these people were lucky that the Empire arrived. For only the Empire was worthy enough to rule over them, their talents would be used for the emperor and his sovereignty.

But then, the terrible curse suddenly befall upon them. Birds made of iron flew at an incomprehensible speed began massacring his brethren.

At first he and his brothers taunted the birds, challenged the foolish beast against imperial might. How foolish they were.

They spat hot bright spears upon them, shards made of pure fire pierced even the toughest of wyverns scale. A single bird was able to eradicate an entire battalion worth of the wyvern legion.

Not only that, he saw a few of the iron birds were able to cast strange magic of pure energy beams, slicing through dozens of wyverns at once. His legs trembled as one of the birds flew past him, it had no face, no teeth - yet it had the fiercest bites and scratches of all the beast he knew of.

Pilot Garen Tolos was confused and rightfully so. An hour ago he received an emergency broadcast from New Yox, and was deployed there. He had prepared for everything, the Khala, rogue Pantheons, a Sovereign invasion or a Mechanite extermination process.

Fighting against a long dead species of two different races was not in any of his list.

He was waiting for a holographic illusion, a shapeshifting Xern or maybe even a Synth in disguise but none of it happened. They simply shred to pieces as he released his heavy rounds of X-10.

The Pigeon, a rather flat aircraft fighter with a shape resembling a large boomerang was equipped with a pair of heavy rounds plasma rapid cannon. A 50 centimeter long gun, a double cuboid construct, welded together with a row orichalcum bolt. An Arcanium crystal implanted within the gun, as it generates mystical energy and convert into superheated, non-radioactive plasma bolts coated with similar translucent energy barrier around itself to contain the erratic essence within and to maintain the inertia and kinetic impact of the projectile.

Garen piloted his aircraft via neural connection, subtly commanded his Pigeon to tilt as he veered to the left, the micro gravitational regulator keeping him from feeling nauseous as his vessel flew several times of sound and spun around constantly in the heat of battle.

The enchanted chemicals injected into his bloodstream slowed time around him, Garen constantly shifted his gaze toward every single one of his enemies, commanding the weapon to steer itself and locked upon its target.

His eyes flickered momentarily at the strange hypergate, it was made of stone of all things. "Command Base, permission to destroy the hypergate?"

"Permission denied soldier, the structure is showing some strange reading influx. Whatever it is, it's only stable because of the stone structure - if we destroy it, it would create unstable theurgical backlash."

Garen gritted his teeth, "copy that Command Base."

Hendrick and his squad slowly made their way closer to the hypergate, whilst shooting down a few enemies they encountered.

Currently, the four members sat within one of the towering spires and observed the activity below, it seems like their enemy were just recently informed of the events that were transpiring across the city.

"I can make the shot from here," Enigma said, her cold crimson eyes glaring at the street below. "See that over there?" Her finger pointed toward one of the medieval knights clad in fancy accessories and had a much more distinct symbol on his armor. "I can shoot him."

"We need him alive," Hendrick ordered.

"Very well," the Reaper answered stoically. She set down her weapon and aimed toward her target. "Non lethal yes?"

Hendrik nodded, in which the Reaper immediately calibrated the position of her weapon, plasma speed, trajectory and inertia. She analyzed her target, a simple bipedal figure, barely two meters tall. She sent a biochemical signal from her brain, a specific electrical brainwave picked up by the weapon advanced psychic detector, the AI within it analyze and compared the structure of the brainwave with a previous digital sample before activating the Arcanium crystal and fusion generator, simultaneously invoking mystic channeling energy, coiled together with magnetic field to contain the volatile projectile fired from her sniper rifle.

In a fraction of a second, her gun responded - with the weapon heavily enchanted, she barely felt any recoil. The plasma bolt accelerated, coiling with superheated energy and theurgic essence alike.

She exhaled calmly as her target slumped, his calf removed yet his body still breathing. The soldier around the person panicked as they saw their commander suddenly burst to blood before collapse.

"Target down, but not neutralized," she muttered stoically.

Hendrick blinked before he checked with his HUD, magnifying his vision toward the scene below, "oh wow - that's amazing."

"Don't waste your breath, we need to move." She replied as she stood and sling her weapon to her back. The sniper rifle folded itself into a smaller rectangular shape.

"I see some activity at Longhorn Street," Jordan the harpy said rather animatedly. Waving his wings in a rapid succession. "They're maybe civilians down there!"

Hendrik averted his gaze, pulled out his holo monitor and observed surveillance feed of Longhorn Street, before closing it with expressed concerns. "We need to move, there seems to be a battalion of soldiers marching over there. From my estimation, I would say that the rate of civilian casualties will rise to the hundreds if we don't act quickly."

Jordan, the hyperactive harpy chirped as he cocked his gun. "Lead the way Lieutenant."

"Please take this situation seriously Sergeant Zenn," Enigma muttered in an irritated tone, despite being monotonous.

"I am taking this seriously!" Jordan puffed his chest exaggeratedly. His nanite armored wings tapped to his mithril/plasteel clad chest.

"Lieutenant Jaeldebor?" Aerulle meekly muttered, Henrick craned his head to face her. The elf seemed sheepish, obviously an introvert in nature, "do we have any plans when we get there?"

"Me and Jordan will be engaging a frontal assault, sheer firepower against our enemy. You're a sniper aren't you?"

She nodded, passionate eyes hidden behind the visor of dark crystal. "Better than Enigma-" her eyes quickly flickered toward the Reaper with an apologetic expression, although she doesn't seem too bothered by it. "-I have scored 97% in the simulations."

"Then you'll be taking out enemy commanders and other key important individuals, reducing any morale. Enigma-"

"I excel in stealth," she replied monotonously.

"R- right, do that then."

Their journey toward Longhorn Street was shorter than expected, Henrick supposed he should've predicted that when almost all of them were clad in exosuit armor that significantly enhanced one's strength, speed, endurance and stamina.

The street itself was wide, four lanes befitted for anti-grav vehicles to travel, now abandoned and deserted, leaving only a few presence of hover cars and auto-trucks levitated on the street.

An army of thousands marched the empty street, despite their attempts to remain professional, their eyes glazed at the sparkling and dazzling display of the heavenly city. There were those who marveled at the sheer advancement of the vehicles, observing and testing its levitating capability.

Henrick thought they looked absolutely ridiculous, anti-gravitational technology was discovered a few millennia back when a prestigious spell engineer discovered a runic enchantment that could negate and even reverse the effect of gravity on an object. The enchantment could only be casted upon gold metal and needed to be channelled with a high electromagnetic field to maintain the strength of the anti-gravitational force.

The magitech was later expanded and were used in almost all forms of vehicles. When it was later proven that radioactive waves affect the strength of the anti-gravitational force, especially the exotic radiation (mystic wave, h-ray, astral radiation).

Henrick frowned as he saw one of the orcs smash a vehicle with its club, seemingly frustrated that despite severe damage, the vehicle remained afloat.

They snuck behind an alley, all eyes set their gaze toward the marching army.

"Enigma, how many?" Henrick muttered slowly, it's not like the enemy could hear them through their communication device, but sometimes instincts were stronger than logic.

"About one thousand and fifty two in total," the Reaper replied, eyes still scanning the crowd. "Estimated six hundred long range units and sixty seven heavy infantry, the rest are simple foot soldiers."

"Any cavalry?"

"None."

Henrick nodded, his eyes reading through data behind his visor. "Good, remember your roles."

Legatus Ovini marched forward with his army, brought forth with him orcs and goblins. Every step his stallion took was an anxious one, the pristine black Street was deserted save for the corpses and floating carriages around him.

It irritates him to know that this city was filled with lowly demi-humans, that was just impossible - how can they create something so magnificent that it mocked the Empire's beauty?

The mere existence of their city had insulted the imperial pride and for that they should pay with blood. His mind then snapped as he heard a commotion amongst his men, Ovini steered his head as he saw a single imperial soldier approach him.

"Sire, the scout saw a few of the demi-humans hiding inside the spire there," his finger pointed toward the spiralling spire of white smooth marble and crystal. It was blocked by a few large floating ornate metallic cuboids, seemingly also floating inches above the ground. Ovini frowned, he hated magic, it was confusing and unpredictable - it was a power that he couldn't control. It sparked fear.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" He barked, sword unsheathed from his hilt and gestured toward the structure. "Charge!"

As his men rallied themselves, shields held high in front of themselves and their grip on their sword, spears, halberd tightened.

None of them were aware of two armored individuals hidden behind the neatly placed mobile bus, clad in greyish dark exosuit with weapons of similar color that glowed dimly blue under the clear bright sky.

Henrick sighed, his breathing controlled and monitored. His weapon eagerly coiled psychic waves into his brain, desperate for him to release its content of superheated matter. The rippling wave of theurgic essence leaking subtly at the rectangular barrel of his Piercer. Physically, his finger moved without touching anything, yet in his mind, he could hear the subtle 'click'.

300 plasma rounds travelling at hypersonic speed per second. Each was enough to pierced through half a centimeter thick steel and hot enough to melt tungsten for a few seconds.

The imperial soldiers were simply nothing more than bags of flesh encased in metal against the very weapon that was designed to combat armor far more superior than they could construct.

Ovini's eyes widened in horror as he saw hundreds of his men simply laid waste for only a few seconds. It took him a moment to reel his emotions and glared at the assailant, that was when he noticed two strangely armored figures wielding what seems to be a long… object, with strange angular design.

"M- mages!?" He yelled in surprise, he did not expect for the otherworlders to retaliate, he had hoped for a much more subservient slave. Almost all demi-humans reacted similarly - they bowed down to the Empire as they should, the might of the imperial was too much for them to bear.

Yet here it was, two figures clad in intricately designed armor facing against an army of thousands. He was furious.

"Do you think we fear your cowardly magic!?" He yelled atop of his lungs, his eyes snapped toward his soldiers who were equally offended by their defiance. "Kill those bastards and bring their heads to me!"

Henrick stared with a perplexed expression as they readily charged toward him and Jordan. 'what the - are they stupid?' "Sergeant Zenn."

"Yeah I got it lieutenant," Jordan chirped as he set his weapon. The long rectangular shape barrel with a self modified grip specialized for his wing-talons murmured to life. Holographic display appeared in front of the bird-type post-human, his iris expanded as he focused his eyes toward his target. His blast-rifle, what could be described as a glorified grenade launcher in the form of automatic rifle pulsate with theurgic energy. The projectiles, Phase Shells, were made out of extradimensional inky black matter known as the Black Mist encasing volatile astral energy capable of momentarily distort localized reality and create a large incendiary and shrapnel explosion.

The harpy pulled the initiator at the side of the gun, grabbing a flat protuberance and slid it backward before he heard a subtle 'click'. The flat surface of the gun suddenly folded in separated mithril carapace, four flat metal hissed and peeled away mechanically, revealing four angular spiked protrusion sprouted from within, all chrome in color - all of the four protrusion coiled with mystical energy, rippling theurgic essence wrapped and coat between the protrusion, forming a cylindrical tunnel of pure intangible energy.

Via advanced warp magic, the machinery that was hidden within the weapon generated artificial spell runes and summoned a shift portal to the ether realm, dragging specified matter of Black Mist. Vantablack material, seemingly appeared to be a liquid sludge unaffected by gravity, it waved and rippled erratically as an advanced arcane magnetic field forced the material to take upon a cylindrical construct with smooth cone edge.

Sporadic unstable energy collected within the shell, powerful astral essence trapped within the black material before it solidified.

The process took less than a microsecond, faster than the brain could send a signal to the finger.

Jordan exhaled slowly, he steadied his aim, index finger held in empty air. The blast-rifle, model variant Bolt-T, instantly read his brainwave pattern. Artificial psychic tendrils reached out into his cerebral cortex. The harpy motioned his finger an action similar to pressing the nonexistent trigger.

The Bolt-T reacted, coiling with arcane magnetism, it propelled the projectile at hypersonic speed. Each shell no larger than a human thumb before it impacted its target.

The human soldiers screamed as small yet concentrated energy exploded, rupturing organs, stripped flesh and tore down molecules to pieces. The solid Black Mist deteriorated, as few chunks flew at sonic speed penetrating nearby soldiers with extra-dimensional shrapnel.

The Bolt-T fired about 40 rounds every second, with nearly unlimited ammunition, it would last for several hours.

Henrick with his simple Piercer fired his shot, he however, had to limit his attack. Whilst plasma energy enhanced with magitech enchantment was by definition infinite, the amount of theurgic energy needed to maintain constant plasma flow was cumbersome and thus the arcane engineer had specifically programmed a cooldown feature for the weapon after five minutes of constant used, the cooldown would usually took thirty seconds if the entire battery pack was completely empty.

The legatus only stared in terror, two mysterious strangers clad in fully clad dark grey armor with their mysterious magic weapon had just taken down every single soldier that dared approached them. Even the mighty orcs succumb toward the larger weapon.

'Who are they? Why are they so powerful?' For a moment a seed of doubt sprouted within him, a moment of hesitation and self preservation surfaced into his mind. Yet he suppressed it, his pride shall not be sullied with barbaric mages, his gaze flickered toward his men, "w- we have mages of our own! Go on, attack-" suddenly his chest felt overwhelming pain.

The legatus tried to scream, only to realize he could not. His eyes slowly darted down to his torso, which had a large hole as blood spilt out. It was the only thing he saw as his body slumped away from his horse, head pressed against the bitter cold road.

Aerulle huffed, her eyes scanned the army. She had successfully eliminated their commanding officer, enemy morale had now definitely decreased. She twisted a knob of her sniper, shifting from basic visual feed into theurgic imaging. She was surprised by the amount of potential theurgic users within their ranks, especially the ones in robes, "sorcerers…" she muttered worriedly. Their energy signatures were definitely beyond that of a common sorcerer, yet their spiritual core seemed crude and unrefined.

It was as if they had access to a world rife with theurgic energy yet never had the potential to fully utilize and comprehend their sorcery.

Panic had settled amongst the imperial rank, there yelling and shouting. Before any could retreat, one of the imperial soldiers commanded the rest, "o- our leader might have died but his death was not in vain! W- we need to push forward for the Empire! We had our own mages, send them!"

Their language was odd, Aerulle thought. Her universal translator had picked up several Roman-esque words here and there, and several Greek and Nordic languages too.

Her eyes flickered as their enemy, without a leader clumsily rallied together and still marched forward - although half of them had already deserted the battle in favour of their own life.

The elf frowned in frustration, they had a strong sense of determination, she had to give them that. Either that, or these people were mind controlled by some evil parasitic, telepathic space bug. With the reality she lived in, it was not too far fetched.

Enigma crouched into the battlefield, cloaked underneath her invisibility fabric, she quickly ran toward the enemy rank, simultaneously and stealthily killing the rest. The Reaper reached her target, the enemy commander still lay lifeless on the ground. Although she was not proficient in psychic abilities, her enemy barely had any psychic resistance as she easily absorbed necessary information from him, albeit in a limited scale.

Her eyes glazed at the surrounding enemy, her presence remained unnoticed. If she wished so, she could slaughter dozens of them right here, yet such an action would be foolish. Thus, she chose to quickly retreat.

Henrick growled as he saw there were still half a thousand of them still charged forward to their death. His body while not exhausted, his mind was of a different story.

A few of them were clad in strange robes wielding a stick. Initially Henrick furrowed, confused for a moment before he noticed the spherical orb at the end of the stick, a fully purified Arcanium crystal. Untainted and uncorrupted.

For a moment he paused. A purified Arcanium was incredibly rare, especially at the Outer Rim of the Milky Way.

They erected a magic barrier, a translucent barrier made out of pure theurgic essence. A magitech usually being utilized to shield vehicles and heavy infantry. Henrick's eyes widened, they were able to cast a fully functioning barrier from their own hands.

Such pure theurgic essence required for a feat was extremely difficult for an individual without some form of mystical channeling artifact. Yet despite the display of incredible magical reserve, the barrier was incapable of withstanding their projectiles, not for long anyway. A few seconds after impact, it shattered and their bodies riddled with holes.

Henrick blinked, "...what?"

"Yeah I know right," Jordan said beside him. "Wherever they came from, I assume that their world is naturally saturated with theurgic essence. Would be a threat if they knew how to construct complex spells that is."

Henrick continued his massacre, he saw one of them attempt to hurl a fireball that barely reached them. "Their magic is crude."

"Yep," replied the harpy.

"Where the hell do they come from?" Henrick muttered. "Some secret hidden unmarked planet?"

Jordan tilted his head as he faced his lieutenant, although his Bolt-T still remained toward his enemy. "Very likely," his upbeat personality was something Henrick had to get used to.

As the numbers of their enemies dwindled, those who survived began to retreat.

Henrick was about to command Enigma to prevent the rest from escaping before he saw a blur, the object landed in front of the medieval soldiers. The lieutenant's vulpine ears flickered within his helm, the HUD automatically magnified his vision as it read his cerebral activity.

The blue slowly taking form of a silhouetted figure. In their grasp was a large sword, with its blade impossibly large and made out of some sort of white hot scorching energy. The figure moved at an impossible speed, cleaving through their enemy and released a series of concussive non-lethal blows.

After a matter of seconds, all of the human soldiers collapsed.

Henrick glanced at Jordan, who simply shrugged and slung his weapon to his back as it folded into a smaller cuboid. Henrick still held his weapon, aiming it at the figure before dust settled and revealed the person who was responsible. Immediately, he lowered his gun.

"Holy shit is that…" He slowly muttered, eyes widened in disbelief.

Jordan the harpy grinned excitedly, "it's the Null Apostle!" Being a birdbrain that he was, the harpy flew toward the walking legend with glee.

Lucas acted upon instinct as he saw half a thousand Roman wannabe run from the Enforcers. He was experienced enough in combat to know that leaving them scattered in the city would spell bad news for ordinary citizens.

Thus far, he had secured multiple districts of the city and assisted various Enforcers to sweeped away whoever these people were.

He slowly exhaled, the momentary mortal exhaustion vanished quite instantly. It was still odd for him, the 'gift' that gave him nearly infinite stamina, yet still given to him the psychological sensation of fatigue. Two centuries of being alive had taught him to ignore those subconscious instincts, yet sometimes he enjoyed indulging his mortal desires - it made him feel… grounded.

Then his ears flickered, he heard rapidly flapping wings. His body tensed for an incoming attack, his eyes quickly darted, his grip tightened - only to find an overly excited harpy in an Enforcer suit.

The helm of the harpy folded backward, the novelty of nanotechnology as it seamlessly embedded itself between the armor carapace around his neck. The few strands of bright yellow of the harpy's feathered hair was much more apparent amongst the spiky mess of deep scarlet hair. The bird post-human landed in front of him, the glistening polymer material encased around his wings was very intricate, nanotech fabric carefully tracing each of his feathers.

Lucas stepped backward, eyes still staring at the harpy with awkward uncertainty.

The Enforcer smiled, "hi, I'm First Sergeant Jordan Zenn, nice to meet you!" He held out his right wing, the blunted talon claws stretched outward.

The apostle chuckled as he gripped his wing-talon, feeling the slightly cold plasteel armor. "Hi Sergeant Zenn, nice work back there."

The harpy puffed his chest and pointed his 'thumb' toward himself in a comical manner, "I'm the best amongst the best of expert heavy gunners."

Lucas quite enjoyed talking to this harpy, his laid back and enthusiastic personality was such a welcoming change of pace compared to the normally stoic and grim war soldiers. "Heh, no doubt about that huh?"

"Is it true that you fought the Khala Horde alone in the battle of Demurga?" His eyes sparkled in excitement, wings flapping joyfully.

"Sergeant Zenn, please discipline yourself in front of a demi-god!" Another Enforcer approached them, as his helm slithered inward, Lucas took note of his brown hair, cybernetic cyan eyes and his vulpine ears perked upward in an alert state. Judging from his badge, the kitsune was definitely a lieutenant.

He bowed in front of Lucas, "I'm sorry Your Eminence for my comrade's rude behaviour."

Lucas shook his head with a chuckle, "we're just having a friendly conversation lieutenant. I'm two centuries old, do you really think I'm the kind of guy who is a stoic militaristic type?"

The kitsune stood up and straightened his back, "o- of course not Your Holiness."

The apostle sighed, still irritated with the title. His gaze shifted toward all the unconscious humans and beasts, "gather them all up before infantry vehicles arrived."

"Lieutenant Jaeldebor, I have retrieved significant information of our enemy's language," a Reaper suddenly manifested beside them. Her cloak pulled down to reveal a pair of canine ears, she was a kobold, a humanoid species with canine ears and tail, some even had grown fangs.

Enigma's eyes flickered toward the apostle before her eyes widened, "Y- Your Holiness."

Before she was about to bow, Lucas waved off his hand. "That's not necessary Reaper."

Enigma hesitated, feeling quite conflicted within herself before she relented. Her gaze lingered at his face before quickly averted.

"Holy shi- I mean, h- hi Lord Bright," Aerulle exclaimed as she approached the group. Her face flushed in embarrassment. "My name is Sergeant Aerulle Dynis of high elf from planet Garden! I like to read books and watch all the news about you! No wait, I mean, I like your poster in my room. Wait that's not what I-" she muttered incoherently, her cheeks flushed in deep crimson.

Lucas arched his eyebrow, being two centuries old he was not oblivious to things such as this. Although he supposed it was normal amongst fans, "I am happy that you appreciate my work."

"Ah yes of course!" The elf said quickly.

A sonic boom distracted them all as a ship had lowered itself to the ground, a rather large scout ship landed between the street. It had rather bulky designs with two large thrusters, a simple oblong body equipped with various attachments. The back door opened, slammed itself to the ground into a ramp.

Group of eight emerged out of the vehicle, clad in black exosuit with traces of neon green etched on their shoulder and torso. A man walked out, clad in a simple white business suit, his right arm replaced with a machine. The man was tall and slender, yet hidden underneath the skin was genetically modified muscle density. His black iris and equally black hair and cat ears contrast the brightness of his attire.

"Senator Tonnes," Lucas stated neutrally.

"Apostle Lucas Bright," the man exclaimed calmly. His gaze flickered toward all the bodies strewn on the ground, "your work I presume?"

"Nah, these guys did the work. I just helped," Lucas mentioned, his eyes glaring at the man as his tail twitched.

"Of course," he said with a grin. "That's what you always do…"

Colt felt agonizing pain in his leg, whatever sorcery they had cast had completely removed his right calf, yet there was no blood flowing. The wound cauterized itself, a magic so advanced that even an archimage would be incapable of performing such sorcery.

His soldiers shouldered him, trying to drag his body back to the Gate.

The war was lost, as he predicted. The ruler of Italicia gritted, unbearable searing pain kept assaulting his now nonexistent leg. His eyes glazed at the towering spires, currently occupied with wyverns and iron birds performing the great dance of death.

Speed so incomprehensible that they were nothing but a blur in the sky, casting strange blue magic streaks to their enemies.

To be able to summon mighty iron birds, cast powerful magic and forged such a heavenly city. These people were truly superior to the Empire in every way possible. He smiled at such knowledge, the idea of the egoistical force that thought themselves to be immortal empire, only to be brought down by the demi-humans they so thought to be inferior.

Yet his heart was filled with pain as he remembered his daughter, her sweet innocent smile. He hoped that this new powerful force was a merciful one, if they were not - then he prayed to the gods that his daughter was safe from their wrath.

Then he heard a blaring horn, the already panicked imperial soldiers yelled in horror, anger and frustration. All eyes gazed upward, Colt followed their gaze only to be met with a foreboding presence in the sky.

Great mighty fortress of steel floated above the clouds, their mouths agape, their eyes widened and their hearts drumming. Second later, heaven's wrath descended upon them.

Centralium Core, Alpha Primus

Alpha Primus, a blue star encased in a honeycomb formation of Dyson Sphere. Outside the sphere itself were three large orbiting giga-structures in the form of an orbital ring.

Centralium Core, a prosperous city of the elite. Grand magnificent structures of incredible scale, was where the foundation of the Alliance Governing Fortress resides.

This was where the four most powerful and most influential individuals in the Alliance known as the Councils of Hierarch.

With their nearly unlimited control over the Alliance military, economy, social and law enforcement, the Council's voice was absolute and irrefutable. This of course, creates conflict amongst citizens who questioned the nature of democracy if these people were given that much power.

The Council members were often given the most advanced form augmentation and genetic modification available to them, in an excuse of personal safety.

Within the Hall of Liberty, the four currently ruling Council stood within their Silver Throne, all facing each other. Holographic display floated at the center of the hall, flickering with information across all Alliance controlled space.

"I appreciate all of you Hierarchs are here," stated one of them in a booming and authoritative voice. He was Hierarch Epsilon, the Council of Military Management. He, like the others, was clad in silvery long robe melded together with orichalcum futuristic armor, due to advance genetic modification, he was two meters tall and possessed a wiry body coiled with synthetic muscles. A pair of horns sprouted from his cranium with legs similar to a goat, he was a satyr species that had been genetically altered to be the biologically superior than the rest of his (unaltered) species.

"Why have we been summoned, Epsilon?" Another of the Hierarch members inquired. She was clad in a fully armored suit immersed within water, two anti-grav generators attached to the back of her suit. Her humanoid torso connected to a fishlike tail, with gills near her ribs. As a mermaid, Hierarch Theta was required to wear the specialized suit to accommodate her inability to mobilize on land. She was the Council of Social Management, often responsible for the development of entertainment and media consumption across the Alliance space.

"I presume this is about Terra?" Said a rather calm voice, he had a slender body built. His scaled arms ended with clawed fingers, a pair of pointed reptilian ears quite similar in shape of an elf. Large lizard-like tail coiled to his legs and webbed wings sprouted to his back. His eyes, a pair of slitted iris glared with serene expression. He was Hierarch Sigma from the dragonewt race, and the Council of Economic Management.

His eyes glanced at the last Council, Iota - an arachne. She had a pale skin with hardened carapace for arms, ended with sharpened claws, her lower body was an authentic semblance to spider abdomen along with eight arachnid legs. Amongst her six eyes, only two of which were 'true eyes' and the other four were only simplified photon receptors. She held absolute power over laws and regulations in the Alliance, the arachne sighed. "What was the report again?"

"The World Baron reported that there's a foreign force that had opened a hypergate in the heart of Terra's megacity."

Theta frowned, "how is that possible, isn't that planet protected with an anti orbital warp field?"

"Yes," Epsilon answered. "And it was amongst the highest technology too, this meant that it is not the work of the Sovereign."

"Pantheons?" Sigma suggested. The Council had an underlying hatred towards the so called deities, they're uncontrollable and unpredictable, an enigma of a force that was left unchecked. However, the Council was not too worried of them, with the advancement of magitech development, there were various weapons that had been developed throughout centuries that were essentially god killers in category. Although most of it was extremely expensive and too valuable to risk losing.

"No," Iota suddenly said, all of the Council's eyes turned on her. "From the energy reading of the drones, it seems like the hypergate was made out of an entirely different frequency of reality string."

"What?" Epsilon shifted.

The arachne continued, "I had read through the report and all the data that had been collected. The drone's readings indicate a different reality string frequency, it's 1.97 rhythm was produced."

"1.97?" Sigma exclaimed. Reality string was an astral-physic theory founded after the death of a Pantheon, Horus. It was a theory that stated the foundation of existence was based upon the ethereal and twelve dimensional wave field simply known as reality strings. All laws of physics, including gravity, time, space, matter and dimensions were based upon the string level of a universe.

Their current baseline reality was known to have a universal reading of 1.94 rhythm.

"That's mean…"

"Whatever or whoever had opened the hypergate, assuming it's even a hypergate had the ability to punch a hole through the dimensional barrier and seemingly synched with our universe. They're not from around here," Epsilon concluded.

"A Type 5 civilization?" Iota questioned, the endless possibilities of such proclamation was very, very stunning.

"No, the army that poured out was only harmless pre-galactic force," Epsilon answered. "They were barely equipped. Didn't even have basic kinetic weaponry, but I had to give it to them - from the reports it seems like these invaders had basic understanding of thaumaturgy."

"Really?" Iota muttered, truth be told, none of them were made aware who or what had attacked Terra - only the information of how and when it was attacked. "Can I see who they're?"

Epsilon grunted, "don't be surprised." He waved his hand, a holographic projection displaying a man clad in armor reminiscent of Roman imperial warriors armed with crude steel sword and rectangular shield in hand. The rest widened their eyes.

"H- humans?" Theta's six eyes glared and scrutinized the projection, searching for any oddities. "Humans?"

"Primitive humans I might add," Epsilon commented. "Seems to be pureblooded Homo Sapiens and not the synthetic ones."

"But still, they're extinct," the arachne like all the other three were equally perplexed.

"In our reality," Epsilon pressed.

"The idea of a species incapable of basic industrial production yet had the access of a fundamental thaumaturgic principle is quite an odd concept," Sigma mentioned.

"It is not that peculiar, the elves discovered digital storage devices before gunpowder, the dwarves invented advanced steam engine technology decades before electronics and nuclear fission," Iota said lazily. "I suppose different worlds result in different developments, although their magic are rather unrefined and basic - they're not a threat to the Alliance."

"But still, they had invaded one of our eighteen Core Worlds - this is a great offence to our security system and the Sovereign would probably see this as a weakness," Epsilon stated. "And if they are capable of opening that level of advanced warp tunnel, then what stops them from opening another one at another place?"

"At least we are taking this seriously," Theta sighed, air bubbles escaped her mouth.

Sigma the dragonewt grunted, "not really."

The mermaid whipped her head toward the Council of Economic Management, the man gazed angled toward Epsilon who stood stoically. Theta scowled, "what do you mean by that?"

"I let the planet take care of the problem of their own," Epsilon answered rather apathetically.

Theta gasped before it morphed into rage, "excuse me, so you're telling me that you let civilians die!?"

"Since when are you so concerned about few civilian casualties?"

"Since it's my fucking job you dipshit, we need to maintain public relations if we wanted to stay in this fancy chair!" She yelled furiously, her encased webbed hands smashed the armchair. "I don't care if they're weak little shit, but the least you could do is send a single frigate or something." She slumped to her throne feeling quite annoyed, "great now I had to put on a mask and give them an explanation."

"You can manage that Hierarch Theta," Sigma exclaimed with a courteous smile. "Although we don't need to be too worried about it, the invasion has been halted. Especially with the assistance of the Null Apostle."

Epsilon frowned at the name, the nekomata apostle was an uncontrollable unit piece in their galactic board - an unknown factor that would ruin their system of order. As of now, the Hierarch had relented and given the apostle the privilege of being an Alliance citizen and protector, since there were some forces that even his Enforcer couldn't handle.

Yet he had doubts of his decision, hesitation that clouded his mind. The longer the demi-god remained, the more followers and admirers he gained.

Epsilon felt quite insecure knowing that such a wild card was able to freely roam across the galaxy without any hindrance and limitations.

"So do we have any plans for the hypergate?" Sigma questioned.

"Just let the local World Baron decide, it was his planet that was attacked after all," Iota replied rather lazily as she played with her self produced spiderwebs. "If we start to become too dictating the people would call out our 'authoritative' behaviour."

"I see, so we have all agreed to leave Terra to handle their own problem then?" Sigma concluded.

Theta sighed, lamented silently about public views toward them. "I need to consult with the High Senators." With a flick of a finger, the Hierarch of Social Management teleported away from her Silver Throne.

The rest sat and stared, Epsilon stood up and tugged his collar before tapping his armrest - deactivated the holographic display. "I suppose that was a good talk," he flicked his finger. "We will have this discussion later." His body shimmered before de-materialised.

Iota simply teleported away without much a word, leaving Sigma to sat on his Silver Throne alone. Eyes still glaring at the empty hall, "such an interesting conversation we have, eh?"

-(End of Chapter One)-