4 Before D-Day

The same day, 15 September 2538, the Gregorian calendar…

Under the direct command of Queen Charlotte, the Arch Monarch of the Agrian continent, more than half the Armatus knights around the globe had rallied. Their mission: at the break of dawn, to embark into enemy territory and seize the high-value industrialised cities of Germund.

The nation's ability to mass-produce arcanite harnessers, artificial gems capable of storing and transporting arcane power, posed an immediate and unacceptable threat to the Dunkelheit Empire.

Under the reign of the Golden Throne, Astral Empress Nohrell Voss Fenrith, the Silver Scythe of Death, had mustered her own army. Her objective was a decisive strike at the heart of Germund, culminating in the decapitation of the Magus Primarch, Mathias III.

To orchestrate this total siege, over a million Armatus knights, drones, and battlecruisers were strategically positioned to encircle Germund's borders.

Each unit had a specific mission: devastate the nation's defensive infrastructure, with a particular focus on the arcane towers where sentry mages were stationed.

Among the many hangar cruisers making their most direct way toward the western shoreline, one dark green vessel stood out. Named the Merry VIII, the cylindrical vessel measured a kilometre in length and had the capacity to carry 5,000 Armatus knights, along with everything needed for prolonged operations; spare parts, arsenals, and repair bays.

On board, Rhok Wagner, a seasoned Armatus knight and celebrated war hero, carried out final tests on his primary unit.

At thirty-eight, with fierce dark eyes and short brown hair, his commanding presence was undeniable. His broad shoulders and muscular frame were the epitome of strength, and his sharp, defined features gave him a rugged appeal.

Clad head-to-toe in advanced armour forged from an ultra-tensile composite, he wore an eagle's sigil proudly engraved on his chest plate. The armour alone augmented his strength, speed, and endurance to six times that of an ordinary human, making the Armatus knights the undisputed pinnacle of modern warfare.

The hangar buzzed with chaotic energy. Knights, engineers, and technicians hurried about, the clatter of tools and the hum of diagnostic systems filling the air. Rhok glanced at the gigantic digital display overhead.

Three hours until they plunged into enemy soil.

"Screw those Arcanii bastards…" he muttered, spitting on the floor with disdain.

Rhok's attention turned to his black helmet. Its surface was etched with the scratches and chips of countless campaigns, yet it remained, like his worn armour, ruggedly reliable. Shoving it onto his head, he twisted it into place. The blue HUD flickered to life, a constant stream of vital data and tactical overlay, as it ran diagnostics and synced with his six connected Armatus units.

A sharp whistle cut through the hangar's clamour. A lean engineer approached, snapping a brisk salute.

After a glance at the name and rank on Rhok's golden chest plate, he greeted him firmly. "Good morning, Commander Wagner!"

"Tony, right?" Rhok's voice was flat, deep, and commanding, radiating an authority that seemed to weigh down the air, radiating an air of undeniable authority that seemed to weigh down the space around him.

"Yes, sir!"

"Are you the one who oversaw the maintenance on my mobile suits?"

"Yes, sir!" the engineer nodded promptly. "I've triple-checked all six of your Armatus units. They're fully functional and combat-ready, sir!"

"Good job." Rhok's lips curled into a cold, unsettling smile. "I wouldn't want anything holding me back from massacring those Arcanii in their sleep." The thought ignited a grim satisfaction within him, yet it couldn't outweigh the rage he felt. His entire bloodline had been torn apart by one of their merciless mages while he was deployed far away.

"Y~yes, sir!" Tony stammered, visibly unsettled but too disciplined to falter.

Fidgeting with his HUD, Rhok began the tedious but familiar routine of checking the armaments on each of his six Armatus units.

Experience had taught him the value of preparation; ensuring he could rely on all six Armatus was far better than gambling his life on overlooked details. He had survived enough battles to understand that this chore was a lifeline.

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"Huh? Ionised Mark V? What's that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar name on his primary's loadout.

Tony, glancing at his datapad, quickly responded. "It's a new blade model, sir! Heats up to 5,000 Kelvin in under a second. Perfect for quick close combat."

"Awesome!" Rhok grinned, slapping a large, armoured hand on Tony's shoulder, causing the smaller man to jolt under the sheer force.

"Sir! Ouch!" Tony yelped.

"Oh... my bad," Rhok said, his grin softening. "Got a little overexcited. This armour's strength can be hard to control sometimes... like waking up one day and realising you've turned into a superhuman."

***

Rhok stood before the towering war machines, each painted in his favourite colour: black. His gaze swept upward, taking in the formidable sight of his six ten-metre-tall combat machines. Their sleek frames bore a striking white eagle on their chest plates, a symbol of his unit's precision and lethality.

Thanks to the thrusters in his personal armour, Rhok could switch between any of them effortlessly, but his primary now featured the new Ionised Mark V.

Not that it truly mattered, he thought. Osten's Arcanii would be pitted against a barrage of bullets, plasma, and ionised beams.

They might wield their mysterious spells, but their knowledge of Dunkelheit's technology was as limited as his was of magic.

In the end, it all came down to firepower.

Seated comfortably in the cockpit within the torso of his Armatus, Rhok leaned back and listened to the global broadcast from the Empress. The soft glow of his blue HUD illuminated the sharp contours of his face.

The screen came alive with the image of Nohrell Voss Fenrith — a bewitching fox Wildren whose beauty was both mesmerising and intimidating. She wore an intricately embroidered white dress with golden accents, layered with a shimmering silver cape that matched the hue of her cascading hime-cut hair.

At the centre of her chest rested a dazzling blue jewel, an emblem of her high nobility. Despite her ninety-nine years, her features remained unweathered. Her almond-shaped eyes were a striking contrast: one golden, the other an intense blue. Perched atop her head, her fox ears signified her Wildren heritage like a regal crown.

Her beauty was unparalleled, transcending even the goddess of beauty herself.

Nohrell stood before a grand podium in the vast throne room, her presence commanding reverence even through the broadcast. Her voice was steady yet infused with authority.

"Citizens of Dunkelheit, loyal subjects of the empire, Armatus knights of all ranks, I address you today with pride and resolve. From the highest spires of our cities to the farthest reaches of our borders, your dedication fortifies the spirit of our great nation…"

Rhok, however, barely registered the Empress's eloquent words.

Impatient with the ceremony, his attention was fixed on a digital-ink photograph he fidgeted with. The image depicted a little girl and his wife, both sharing the same dark hair and deep, soulful eyes. Rhok's dark brown hair set him apart, a stark contrast in the captured moment of a joy that now felt a lifetime away. His thumb grazed the edge of the image, a rare flicker of vulnerability, as he wiggled his nose absentmindedly.

The Empress's speech washed over him, blessings for the Armatus knights, wishes for their success. To Rhok, it was nothing more than noise. He didn't fight for blessings or goodwill; he fought exclusively for revenge.

A muscle in his jaw tightened, his dark eyes burning with a hatred so pure it was all that kept him going. The only thing that fuelled him now was the promise of seeing every Arcanii mage eradicated. Only in their ashes might he find a reason to keep on living.

"Alright, Commander Rhok! Your mission details are here," came a crisp, professional voice over the cockpit speakers. The female coordinator's video feed blinked to life on his HUD screen.

A malicious grin spread across Rhok's lips, his mind narrowing to a single, sharp focus. The hunt was on.

***

The mechanical hatch door of the cruiser groaned open as hydraulic compartments hissed, releasing the steel giants into the atmosphere from ten thousand metres above the ground. Their jetpacks hummed to life, thrusters glowing crimson as they slowed their descent.

Rhok's squad, a complement of six Armatus suits under his direct control, flew down. Following their commander, the silver knights, piloting a separate wing of four suits with full manual combat capacity, landed moments after.

"Command Wagner, this is Silver Knight Daniel Asher, Div 101," a voice crackled through the comms. "Happy to serve under your division once again, sir!"

"Welcome aboard!" Rhok replied, giving a thumbs-up with one of his Armatus. They ripped through the clouds, the terrain below swelling to meet them.

"If it's alright with you, sir, we'll hit garrison 0132X near Helm City. It's the closest to our position," Daniel suggested, his tone bright with enthusiasm.

"Garrison 0132X it is!" Rhok agreed, altering their course from a vertical drop to a horizontal thrust that sent them hurtling toward the enemy base. As the Armatus suits shifted into a swift formation, the engines roared, vibrating as the thrusters battled air resistance.

"How would you like to do this, sir?" Daniel asked, his voice attentive.

"Full offence," Rhok responded coolly. "Minimum time spent."

"Fu~Full offence, sir?" Daniel's voice faltered. "But this is just the outer rim of Germund. They couldn't possibly have Lunarius mages here, or even… Stellius!"

"What the hell are you talking about, silver?" Rhok barked, raising a metaphorical eyebrow inside his helmet, unfamiliar with the Arcanii terminology.

"Oh, uh, to put it in layman's terms," Daniel stammered, recovering his composure. "Stellius mages are roughly equivalent to our silver knights, while Lunarius mages are closer to gold-rank in terms of power."

"I see," Rhok replied, the comparison clicking into place. "In our ranks among Armatus knights, we have iron, bronze, silver, gold, platinum, and then the Astral Empress herself above all…"

"Yes, sir. For Osten's mages, they've got Novitcius, Stellius, Lunarius, and Celestius," Daniel continued, his tone shifting to that of a scholar reciting from a textbook.

"They really do love their big words, don't they?" Rhok drawled, a smirk touching his face as his sharp eyes swept the terrain below. The two squads of Armatus knights sliced through the air, their speed climbing to over three hundred kilometres per hour.

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