The underworld trembled as the Reaper stood before Beelzebub’s grotesque throne, his scythe glinting with an eerie, spectral light. The echoes of tortured souls screamed in the abyss, but the Reaper’s voice cut through them like a bde through shadow.
“Beelzebub, your arrogance blinds you,” the Reaper intoned, his hollow gaze piercing the Lord of Flies. “You have taken what is not yours—souls bound not to your dominion, but to the fate forged by mortals. Your corruption of the S2 ship defies the bance of this universe. It ends now.”
Beelzebub sneered, his grotesque form shifting as he rose from his throne, his wings twitching with irritation. “And what will you do, Reaper? Your domain is the dead, not the living. These souls were lost to me the moment they entered my swarm. You are too te.”
A cold silence settled before the Reaper spoke again, his words carrying the weight of eternity. “If you do not follow the path and end made by mortals in this universe, then the underworld itself will enter war for their souls. Your corruption will be purged, not by celestial decree, but by the very forces of death itself.”
With a motion of his skeletal hand, eight orbs of swirling, decayed energy manifested around him, pulsating with the essence of undead matter. Their glow cast an ominous, bone-chilling light across Beelzebub’s domain.
“I have created eight Undead Matter Orbs,” the Reaper decred. “Each will birth an undead gaxy, where legions of my kind will rise. They will not rest, they will not falter. They will fight in your name if you yield… but against you if you resist.”
Beelzebub’s ughter, guttural and sickly, filled the chamber. “You think I fear war, Reaper? I revel in it! My swarm is endless, my demons unyielding! Let your rotting warriors march, and they will be devoured by my flies.”
The Reaper’s hollow eyes glowed an ominous crimson. “Then you do not understand the war you invite. The Lord of the Undead Heart stirs, feeding on every death, growing stronger with each soul lost to the void. Once it manifests within the Warp Gaxy, you will no longer face a single enemy, Beelzebub—you will be fighting a three-front war.”
Beelzebub’s expression darkened as the weight of the Reaper’s words settled upon him. War with Heaven was inevitable, conflict with the mortal realm unceasing—but war with the underworld itself? That was a danger even he had not foreseen.
“You have one chance,” the Reaper warned. “Return the souls to their rightful pce, or witness the dead rise in numbers beyond reckoning. Choose wisely.”
As the Reaper turned, the air itself seemed to grow colder, the shadows stretching long across Beelzebub’s throne. The orbs pulsed once more before vanishing into the void, awaiting the command that would bring them to life.
Beelzebub remained silent, watching the darkness the Reaper left in his wake. For the first time in an eternity, doubt crept into his mind.
The underworld quaked as the Reaper stepped forward, his skeletal visage bathed in the ghostly luminescence of the souls he had come to recim. Beelzebub, still seated upon his grotesque throne, observed with narrowed eyes as a grim procession of the damned writhed in spectral agony around him. The Reaper had issued his warning. Now, he had come to collect.
“Your time to decide has passed,” the Reaper intoned, his voice reverberating through the abyss like the tolling of a death knell. “Forty-five thousand souls. You will return them.”
Beelzebub chuckled, a sound like buzzing wings and festering flesh. “And if I refuse?”
Beezlebub, in his arrogance, sent one of his demon lord to intercept the reaper. , the demon lord demanded the souls back.
The Reaper raised his scythe. A silent wind howled through the underworld,
“I do not bargain,” the Reaper whispered.
The eight Undead Matter Orbs he had manifested earlier now spun around him, pulsating with ancient power. Each orb carried the condensed remnants of uncimed deaths, feeding the ever-growing tide of undeath. Beelzebub flinched as their presence gnawed at the very fabric of his dominion.
The demon lord snarled. “You would dare—”
A single, decisive stroke of the Reaper’s scythe cut across the void, not through flesh, but through the very concept of dominion itself. Chains of spectral light erupted from the rift he had carved, snapping around Beelzebub’s throne, binding it in a prison of cold inevitability.
The buzzing stopped. The air stood still.
A wretched howl escaped from the demon’s throat as forty-five thousand souls tore themselves from his grasp. The chamber of flies erupted into chaos as the spirits, now freed, surged toward the Reaper, drawn to the only force that could guide them home.
As each soul departed, something more sinister took shape in the underworld’s depths. Death itself bore weight, and from its remains, Undead Matter coalesced. For every death, a fragment of this dark energy was born, manifesting into the lowest form of undead—wandering phantoms, skeletal husks, and mindless ghouls. When three of these fragments merged, they birthed a Lich, a being cursed with knowledge of undeath. When one hundred combined, the Undead Lord emerged, a master of the restless dead. And should a thousand fuse into one, the Lord of the Undead Cataclysm would rise—an entity whose very presence heralded the end of all things, turning all mortals who defied the bance of the universe into undead thralls.
Demon lord’s expression darkened as he realized the implications. The Reaper was not just reciming souls—he was sowing the seeds of something far greater.
Deep within the underworld, the Heart of the Undead pulsed. With each passing moment, it siphoned twenty percent of the newly created Undead Matter into the dark depths. One percent of this energy was sent to shape the Undead Outer Layer—a realm where the undead were born, where they gathered, waiting. Should all nine items of the Heart be pced within the mortal universe, the bance of death itself would shift. The living and the dead would no longer be separate. Mortality would be rewritten.
“You…” Demon lord seethed, his grotesque form trembling. “This is not over.”
“No,” the Reaper admitted. “But it is the beginning of your end.”
With a single step, he vanished, the souls swirling into his wake like dying embers in a cold wind. The abyss remained, but its grip on the dead had been loosened. Demon lord, for the first time in millennia, found himself alone.
And the underworld whispered with the echoes of what was to come.
The Reaper raised his scythe. A silent wind howled through the underworld, one that carried no breeze—only the undeniable weight of death. The ground beneath Beelzebub’s throne fractured, veins of void-bck energy creeping outward, devouring all it touched.
“I do not bargain,” the Reaper whispered.
The eight Undead Matter Orbs he had manifested earlier now spun around him, pulsating with ancient power. Each orb carried the condensed remnants of uncimed deaths, feeding the ever-growing tide of undeath. Beelzebub flinched as their presence gnawed at the very fabric of his dominion.
The demon lord snarled. “You would dare—”
A single, decisive stroke of the Reaper’s scythe cut across the void, not through flesh, but through the very concept of dominion itself. Chains of spectral light erupted from the rift he had carved, snapping around Beelzebub’s throne, binding it in a prison of cold inevitability.
The buzzing stopped. The air stood still.
A wretched howl escaped from the demon’s throat as forty-five thousand souls tore themselves from his grasp. The chamber of flies erupted into chaos as the spirits, now freed, surged toward the Reaper, drawn to the only force that could guide them home.
“You…” Beelzebub seethed, his grotesque form trembling. “This is not over.”
“No,” the Reaper admitted. “But it is the beginning of your end.”
With a single step, he vanished, the souls swirling into his wake like dying embers in a cold wind. The abyss remained, but its grip on the dead had been loosened. Beelzebub, for the first time in millennia, found himself alone.
And the underworld whispered with the echoes of what was to come.
The void stirred as an ancient force whispered through the remnants of forgotten battles. Death had long cimed these forsaken pces, but the bance of the universe demanded something more. From the gathered essence of the fallen, a new dominion would rise—one that would neither serve the living nor heed the corruption of Hell. The Reaper’s decree had set the wheels of fate into motion, and now the echoes of undeath would birth something beyond mortal comprehension.
On the first day, the cosmos trembled as one hundred fifty fragments of Death Matter coalesced, merging with the forgotten energies of lost souls and battlefields. The result was neither mortal nor divine—it was an entity of pure undeath. The Undead Envoy was born, a being whose very presence distorted the veil between life and death. With an ethereal crown forged from spectral energies, the Envoy stood at the precipice of the underworld and the material pne, its purpose singur: to guide the lost into the embrace of undeath.
As the Envoy took shape, twenty percent of the gathered Death Matter seeped into the depths of the underworld, an unintended consequence of the Reaper’s actions. This energy did not dissipate—it transformed. Deep within the abyssal pne, skeletal warriors cwed their way from the soil, wraiths coalesced from lingering sorrow, and dark liches awakened from slumber. The underworld itself began to stir, as if reacting to the surge of necrotic energy that now coursed through its veins.
Yet, the Undead Gaxy had a greater task—one that reached beyond mere existence. It stood as a bulwark against the encroaching influence of the four Chaos Gods, entities of corruption and ruin who sought to consume the universe. As long as each soul chose to follow their chosen path, the Chaos Gods could not cim dominion. The high-ranking undead, ancient beings of immense knowledge, took it upon themselves to warn every interstelr nation and pnetary ruler during their patrols.
“Whatever you follow, whatever you put your faith into, it will grow stronger with your devotion,” the Undead Lords decred. “The more faithful you are, the more power you grant to it. Whether you worship an existing god or create one of your own, your soul will belong to that deity in the end. But if you follow Aros or none at all, then your fate is to descend into the Underground. That is our task—to ensure that bance remains.”
The presence of the Undead Gaxy sent ripples through the cosmos. Where once there had been uncertainty, now there was a grim certainty—faith had tangible consequences. The choices of mortal and immortal alike carried weight, and the unseen war against the Chaos Gods hinged on devotion. As long as belief existed in any form, the Undead Gaxy would continue its vigil, ensuring that Chaos could never cim the universe as its own.
Elsewhere, the Dark Side Federation intercepted whispers of the Reaper’s actions. Tanya Wagoner, ever the tactician, saw an opportunity. If the undead sought dominion over the stars, then the Federation would need to prepare—not just for war, but for the possibility of harnessing the power of undeath itself. She watched as the first of the Undead Matter Orbs drifted through the void, her mind racing with possibilities.
The gaxy was on the brink of a war unlike any before. And the Dark Side Federation would not be caught unprepared.
1 day ter, Tanya and her team headed towards the long-lost city in the cold gaxy sector and found an eerie temple where she found an eerie altar that sends out essence of the undead that is a combination of undead matter and death atoms.
Tanya Wagoner stood alone in the dimly lit chamber of her fgship, the air thick with an eerie silence. Before her y a bckened altar, an artifact she had retrieved from a ruined temple deep within a forsaken world. Her crimson eyes flickered with determination as she knelt, pressing her hands together in solemn prayer.
"Great Reaper, ruler of the Underworld, I offer my soul’s devotion. Grant me the path to command the undead and wield the power of death itself. In exchange, I vow my unwavering faith to you."
A chill swept through the room, shadows twisting unnaturally as the temperature plummeted. The dim light flickered before extinguishing completely. Then, from the abyss, a presence manifested—a towering figure cloaked in darkness, wielding a scythe so massive that reality itself seemed to bend around its bde. His skeletal face bore no expression, yet his burning eyes held an eternal wisdom. The Reaper had arrived.
"Tanya Wagoner," his voice was a hollow echo, reverberating through her very soul. "You dare to seek the path of undeath? You would wield the essence of the fallen as your strength?"
Tanya did not flinch. "Yes, mighty Reaper. I seek the inheritance of the undead, to rise above mortality and carve my own dominion under your guidance."
The Reaper studied her, then extended his bony hand. A dark sigil burned into Tanya’s forehead, an intricate mark pulsing with necrotic energy. A system interface materialized before her eyes, shimmering in ghostly hues:
[Undead Inheritance System Activated]
First Task: Worship the Reaper of the Underworld
A grin touched Tanya’s lips. She bowed her head reverently, whispering a chant of praise. Shadows swirled around her, forming ghostly visages of those she had sin. The first of her newfound power stirred—basic undead rose from her past victims, their hollow eyes awaiting her command.
"Your faith has granted you entry," the Reaper intoned. "But power is earned. The deeper your devotion, the greater your rewards. Prove yourself, and you shall rise through the ranks. From simple thralls to undead envoys, necromancers, and even the Lords of the Underworld. Should your faith remain unshaken, you may yet ascend to a Lesser Reaper, or beyond—to the Lord of Undead Cataclysm."
Tanya’s heartbeat quickened. This was no fleeting gift—it was a promise of boundless might, an eternal path to domination. She would not only save the ensved but conquer death itself.
Raising her hand, she called forth her first undead warriors, their skeletal forms assembling before her. The Reaper watched in silent approval before fading into the abyss.
Tanya Wagoner had begun her new path of faith, and the underworld itself trembled in anticipation.
Mordred Augustus stood upon the command deck of his S6-css battleship, the Imperial Warp, his cybernetic eyes scanning the tactical readouts with razor-sharp focus. A disturbance had rippled through the void of space, an anomaly unlike any his forces had encountered before. Reports flooded in from the ship’s sensor array—an unknown surge of matter had emerged in sector 4111.0555 North, where previously, a massive bck hole had reigned supreme. And now, it was gone.
The disappearance of a bck hole was unheard of, yet the readings confirmed its absence. In its pce, a new gaxy had seemingly manifested, bringing with it eight pnetary bodies teeming with strange energies. Without hesitation, Mordred mobilized the 201,000-strong force of the Imperial Marines. Their arrival was instantaneous, spanning a mere 0.30 seconds as they engaged their hyper-warp drives.
Upon arrival, Mordred began double-checking the arrival times of the Imperial Army’s fleet. The formu was simple:
Arrival_time = 0.80 - (shipNumber - 1) * 0.10
He cross-referenced the data with his officers:
Ship 1: 0.80 seconds
Ship 2: 0.70 seconds
Ship 3: 0.60 seconds
Ship 4: 0.50 seconds
Ship 5: 0.40 seconds
Ship 6: 0.30 seconds
Ship 7: 0.20 seconds
Ship 8: 0.10 seconds
All ships had arrived precisely within the calcuted timeframe. Satisfied with the operational efficiency, Mordred turned his attention to the ominous worlds before them.
Sensors immediately picked up disturbing readings—each of the eight pnets harbored unearthly energy signatures. Deploying reconnaissance teams, the Marines began cataloging the entities roaming the surface. What they found was beyond comprehension.
Fifty distinct types of undead beings stalked these forsaken worlds. Towering undead dragons, their skeletal wings stretching for miles, engaged in aerial duels with shrieking undead harpies. Undead medusas roamed the barren ndscapes, their gaze petrifying even the lesser undead. Skeletal envoys, cd in decayed ceremonial armor, commanded legions of rotting foot soldiers in an endless struggle for dominance.
Among the horrors, the scouts documented ghastly beasts twisted by undeath—feral, decayed creatures resembling cats, horses, and tigers. Some were winged aberrations, soaring through the darkened skies, while others bore unnatural growths, like the undead griffins and monstrous zombie variants. One particurly fearsome species stood out—undead with ten arms, capable of tearing through even their own kind to absorb the essence of fallen foes.
The Marines quickly discovered a brutal truth: these creatures sughtered each other to consume the essence of undeath, evolving into stronger, more grotesque forms. Yet, the most numerous were the skeletal hordes—mindless and relentless, they were the easiest to cut down, yet never seemed to truly die.
Recognizing the potential threat and opportunity, Mordred immediately transmitted their findings back to the Imperial Empire. The transmission to Empress Hariko Lee carried his formal report:
“Your Majesty, we have discovered a gaxy formed from the absence of a bck hole. The eight pnets within are overrun with undead entities of varying forms. These creatures engage in ceaseless combat, growing stronger by consuming one another’s essence. The weakest, skeletal entities, number in the millions. I advise immediate strategic evaluation. The potential for both danger and exploitation is beyond estimation. Orders await.”
With the message sent, Mordred turned back toward the tactical dispy. Whatever this gaxy was, it would either become a new front for conquest—or a nightmare unleashed upon the Imperial Empire.
The bridge of the S6-css fgship was dimly lit, casting elongated shadows over the advanced control panels and holoscreens dispying strategic data. Hariko Lee stood at the center, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he observed the test intelligence report. Before him, Mordred—a knight reborn in steel and vengeance—listened intently, his armored figure illuminated by the soft glow of tactical dispys.
"We need to talk," Hariko began, his voice edged with gravity. "This new faction… They're nothing like the ones we've encountered before. If what these reports indicate is true, we’re dealing with a force beyond conventional warfare. Undead warriors with intelligence, strategy, and an apparent disregard for annihition."
Mordred tilted his head slightly, the metal of his helm reflecting the flickering lights. "And what do you suggest? You know I don't fear battle. If they threaten us, I will carve through them like I have all others."
Hariko sighed, pressing a button on the console. A holographic projection of a darkened gaxy emerged, its systems marked with ominous crimson indicators. "It's not about fear. It's about choosing our battles wisely. From what we've gathered, their numbers are replenished from the fallen. If we engage without understanding their full capabilities, we could be feeding their ranks with our own dead."
Mordred's fingers flexed over the pommel of his sword, his restlessness evident. "So you suggest we sit idly by while they spread? That is not the way of warriors."
Hariko locked eyes with him. "I suggest we wait. Observe. Gather intelligence. Our fleets are not infinite, and I won’t send men and women into a war where every loss strengthens the enemy. Unless they attack first, we avoid that gaxy. For now."
A silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken tension. Mordred was a soldier of legend, a warrior who knew only the path of battle. To stay his bde, to wait—it was anathema to his very being. Yet he could not ignore the logic behind Hariko's words.
"Very well," Mordred finally said, voice den with reluctance. "But the moment they encroach upon our borders, we strike without hesitation."
Hariko nodded. "Agreed. And when that time comes, we’ll be ready."
With that, the discussion ended, but the weight of their decision lingered. The darkness of the enemy’s domain stretched before them, a silent and foreboding expanse. For now, they would wait—but should the undead reach beyond their cursed realm, the full might of Hariko’s forces would be unleashed, and no grave would hold them back.
Mordred Augustus and his fleet of 201,000 battle-hardened marines emerged from the warp, their massive ships appearing like celestial sentinels above the uncharted gaxy designated 4112.0556. As their scanners swept the star systems, they encountered an extraordinary sight—a gaxy teeming with griffins, their feathers gleaming under the light of alien suns. Among them, majestic silver and golden griffins soared through the void, their wings spreading an aura of dominance. Unlike most ecosystems, this one was unique—80% of the creatures were male, an oddity that piqued the interest of the expeditionary force.
Queen Melina, ruler of the Andrian Dominion, sat upon her gilded throne, her golden eyes fixed upon the holographic dispy before her. The sector of 4112.0556, one of the most strategically important regions in her empire, was in dire need of an interstelr fleet capable of securing its vast territories. However, their shipbuilding capabilities were insufficient for the scale of the task ahead.
With urgency in her heart, she sent a formal request to Hariko Lee, a renowned strategist and leader, whose forces had demonstrated unparalleled engineering and combat prowess. Her request was straightforward yet monumental: the creation of interstelr ships capable of housing 20,000 griffins, storing two million rounds of assault rifle ammunition, and two hundred thousand rounds of rocket ordinance. Additionally, the surrounding sectors would need to store at least one million rounds of interstelr ship munitions to sustain prolonged engagements.
Hariko Lee, ever keen on expanding his influence and forging alliances with powerful factions, reviewed the request with interest. The proposal aligned with his strategic vision, and he saw great potential in aiding Queen Melina’s Dominion. Without hesitation, he agreed to the deal, sealing an alliance that would shape the bance of power in the region.
With Hariko’s approval, Anna Bke, a leading figure in the design of next-generation warships, immediately mobilized her resources. She dispatched 2,000 of her test recruits—elite scientists, engineers, and shipbuilders—to the sector, ensuring that the ships would be designed and constructed with cutting-edge technology. The arrival of her forces was met with a mix of anticipation and curiosity from Queen Melina’s senate, who were eager to see their vision come to life.
As the engineers and scientists convened, they quickly realized the scale of the undertaking. The sheer volume of cargo and personnel the ships needed to accommodate dictated a vessel of immense proportions. After hours of deliberation, calcutions, and heated discussions, the conclusion was unanimous: the ships had to be at least 10 kilometers in length and width, ensuring adequate space for troops, weaponry, and provisions.
Beyond sheer size, the ships needed to be battle-ready. A minimum of ten powerful cannons was proposed, ensuring that these titanic vessels would not merely be transport ships but formidable war machines capable of holding their own in combat. Additional considerations were made for energy shielding, reinforced hulls, and advanced navigation systems to facilitate long-range operations across interstelr battlefields.
Queen Melina, upon hearing the finalized specifications, nodded in approval. “These ships,” she decred, “will be the shield that guards our dominion and the sword that strikes our enemies. Let their forging commence.”
With that decree, the greatest shipbuilding endeavor in the sector's history was set in motion, marking the dawn of a new era for the Angian Dominion and solidifying its alliance with Hariko Lee’s forces.
Mordred ordered a deep scan of the gaxy, focusing on pnetary compositions and resources. Within moments, the 6th pnet stood out—a terrestrial world of lush ndscapes, rich mineral deposits, and energy readings that suggested something more than ordinary elements. With the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, Mordred and his marines descended onto the pnet, their nding operations executed with precision.
Their mission began in the eastern sector, where the team established an excavation site. Almost immediately, the scanners detected something unusual—crystals with an ethereal glow, streaked in hues of blue and white. The crystalline formations pulsed faintly, as if alive, and their structure defied conventional analysis.
Mordred’s forces wasted no time in extracting the strange minerals. Within hours, a total of 1,000 tons had been loaded onto their cargo transports. The fleet departed swiftly, making their way back to Mars, where Anna Bke, the lead scientist and biochemist, awaited their arrival.
Back in her state-of-the-art research b, Anna initiated tests on the newfound material. She refined 10% of the crystals into liquid form, isoting their essence. A controlled experiment was set up, with a test subject selected for the first trial. A measured dose of 100 liters of the liquid was injected into the subject, and the results were staggering.
The individual’s life essence—previously measured to be the size of an ant—expanded to the size of a human hand. Readings confirmed the increase in their lifespan from 2,000 years to an astonishing 12,000 years. The implications were enormous.
Realizing the potential value of the crystals, Mordred sought out the ruling authority of the sector—Queen Melina. Their meeting took pce in the grand halls of her pace, a structure woven from living vines and infused with the energy of the crystals themselves. The negotiations were swift, both parties recognizing the value of the trade. A deal was struck—100,000 Martian Star Coins per ton of life crystals.
With the contract sealed, the Imperial Empire secured a steady supply of one of the most valuable resources they had ever encountered. The discovery of the life crystals on 4112.0556 would change the course of interstelr advancements, solidifying Mordred Augustus’s pce in history as the man who unlocked the secret to longevity.
Queen Melina, ruler of the Andrian Dominion, sat upon her gilded throne, her golden eyes fixed upon the holographic dispy before her. The sector of 4112.0556, one of the most strategically important regions in her empire, was in dire need of an interstelr fleet capable of securing its vast territories. However, their shipbuilding capabilities were insufficient for the scale of the task ahead.
With urgency in her heart, she sent a formal request to Hariko Lee, a renowned strategist and leader, whose forces had demonstrated unparalleled engineering and combat prowess. Her request was straightforward yet monumental: the creation of interstelr ships capable of housing 20,000 griffins, storing two million rounds of assault rifle ammunition, and two hundred thousand rounds of rocket ordinance. Additionally, the surrounding sectors would need to store at least one million rounds of interstelr ship munitions to sustain prolonged engagements.
Hariko Lee, ever keen on expanding his influence and forging alliances with powerful factions, reviewed the request with interest. The proposal aligned with his strategic vision, and he saw great potential in aiding Queen Melina’s Dominion. Without hesitation, he agreed to the deal, sealing an alliance that would shape the bance of power in the region.
With Hariko’s approval, Anna Bke, a leading figure in the design of next-generation warships, immediately mobilized her resources. She dispatched 2,000 of her test recruits—elite scientists, engineers, and shipbuilders—to the sector, ensuring that the ships would be designed and constructed with cutting-edge technology. The arrival of her forces was met with a mix of anticipation and curiosity from Queen Melina’s senate, who were eager to see their vision come to life.
As the engineers and scientists convened, they quickly realized the scale of the undertaking. The sheer volume of cargo and personnel the ships needed to accommodate dictated a vessel of immense proportions. After hours of deliberation, calcutions, and heated discussions, the conclusion was unanimous: the ships had to be at least 10 kilometers in length and width, ensuring adequate space for troops, weaponry, and provisions.
Beyond sheer size, the ships needed to be battle-ready. A minimum of ten powerful cannons was proposed, ensuring that these titanic vessels would not merely be transport ships but formidable war machines capable of holding their own in combat. Additional considerations were made for energy shielding, reinforced hulls, and advanced navigation systems to facilitate long-range operations across interstelr battlefields.
Queen Melina, upon hearing the finalized specifications, nodded in approval. “These ships,” she decred, “will be the shield that guards our dominion and the sword that strikes our enemies. Let their forging commence.”
With that decree, the greatest shipbuilding endeavor in the sector's history was set in motion, marking the dawn of a new era for the Andrian Dominion and solidifying its alliance with Hariko Lee’s forces.
