Colony of Altaras, Parpaldia Empire

  The Parpaldian fleet cautiously approached the Indian Navy’s imposing armada, maintaining a safe distance while assessing their intent. Without successful radio contact, the Indians sent a small speedboat to establish communication. The message, delivered on behalf of Vice Admiral Aryan Pratap, expressed India's peaceful intent and a request to dock at Altaras for resupply and future talks.

  Admiral Serric, after conferring with his officers, agreed to allow the Indian fleet to anchor near the harbor for the night under strict Parpaldian oversight. It was decided that a formal meeting between the two forces would take pce the following day to discuss their objectives and diplomatic possibilities.

  As the sun set, the two fleets anchored near Altaras, their massive silhouettes looming over the calm waters, setting the stage for a historic discussion that could reshape the region’s bance of power.

  The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling port city of Altaras. The arrival of the Indian fleet had transformed the serene harbor into a hive of activity, with Parpaldian officers coordinating logistics and ensuring all diplomatic protocols were meticulously observed.

  Admiral Serric stood on the deck of his fgship, observing the scene with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. The sheer scale and technological sophistication of the Indian Navy were unlike anything the Parpaldian Empire had encountered. Yet, their overtures suggested a desire for diplomacy rather than conflict.

  As night fell, the harbor glittered with the glow of ship lights and torches. Preparations were underway for a formal meeting aboard the Indian fgship, INS Vikramaditya, a colossal aircraft carrier that towered over the surrounding vessels. Admiral Serric, accompanied by a select group of Parpaldian diplomats and military advisors, boarded a unch that ferried them across the calm waters to the Indian ship.

  Upon arrival, the Parpaldians were received with formal honors. Vice Admiral Aryan Pratap, a tall man with a commanding presence, extended a hand in greeting.

  "Welcome aboard the Vikramaditya, Admiral Serric. We are grateful for your willingness to engage in dialogue."

  Serric csped his hand firmly. "The Parpaldian Empire values peaceful retions with all nations. We are eager to understand your intentions in these waters."

  The delegation was led into a spacious conference room aboard the carrier, where regional maps were spread across a polished table. Taking their seats, the atmosphere shifted to one of professional diplomacy.

  Vice Admiral Pratap began, his tone measured. "Our presence here is part of a broader mission of exploration and outreach. We aim to establish retions with the nations of this world, foster the exchange of knowledge, and promote mutual prosperity. Altaras, with its strategic location and vibrant port, is a natural starting point for such endeavors."

  Admiral Serric listened carefully, noting the sincerity in Pratap’s words. “Your fleet’s capabilities are unparalleled. Understandably, their sudden appearance has raised concerns among our leadership. How do you propose to alleviate these apprehensions?”

  Pratap gave a measured nod. “We understand the gravity of our arrival. To foster trust, we are prepared to engage in open dialogues, colborate on mutual security initiatives, and observe any protocols deemed necessary to reassure your leadership. Our objective is not dominance but colboration.”

  The meeting set the tone for cautious but optimistic engagement. Both sides understood the stakes, and the willingness to cooperate hinted at the possibility of a new era of retions between India and the Parpaldian Empire.

  Inside Vikramaditya

  The soft hum of the Vikramaditya's engines provided a low backdrop as the delegates settled into their seats, the formalities giving way to substantive discussion. Vice Admiral Pratap gestured toward one of his aides, who unrolled a detailed chart highlighting key trade routes and economic hubs in the region.

  "Our initial surveys indicate that this region, particurly Altaras, is rich in resources and strategically positioned for trade," Pratap began. "India is keen on exploring opportunities for economic partnerships that would be mutually beneficial. We are particurly interested in establishing trade agreements that could bolster both our economies."

  Admiral Serric leaned forward, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. "Parpaldia has long held a dominant position in the regional economy, with Altaras serving as a crucial link in our trade network. While we are open to discussions on trade, it is imperative that any agreements respect our current economic structures and interests."

  The Indian delegation nodded in understanding. One of their economists, Dr. Kavita Sen, spoke up. "We recognize Parpaldia's established presence and influence. Our proposal is not to disrupt but to complement. We believe that by integrating Indian technological advancements and investment into the local economy, we can create a more robust and diversified economic environment."

  The mention of technology piqued the interest of the Parpaldian diplomats. Minister of Economic Affairs Loran Feyric, who had accompanied Serric, interjected. "Technological advancements could indeed offer substantial benefits. However, any such integration must be carefully managed to ensure it does not undermine our industries or lead to over-reliance on foreign technology."

  Pratap acknowledged the concern. "A valid point, Minister Feyric. Our aim is to colborate on projects that enhance local capabilities. Joint ventures in sectors such as manufacturing, infrastructure, and information technology could drive growth while preserving Parpaldia's economic autonomy."

  The conversation continued, touching on potential areas of colboration, including renewable energy, shipbuilding, and education. The Indian delegation emphasized their commitment to fostering long-term partnerships, while the Parpaldians remained cautious, mindful of maintaining their strategic autonomy.

  As the discussion progressed, a tentative framework for future negotiations began to take shape. Both sides recognized the potential benefits of economic cooperation, tempered by the need for careful diplomacy and mutual respect.

  The meeting concluded with a sense of cautious optimism. Pns were made for follow-up discussions, and both delegations agreed to reconvene the next day to finalize details and explore specific initiatives further.

  As the Parpaldian delegation departed the Vikramaditya, Admiral Serric reflected on the day's events. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but the possibilities for a strengthened economic future were compelling. The key would be navigating the delicate bance between opportunity and caution, ensuring that Parpaldia's interests were safeguarded while embracing the potential of a new alliance.

  As the discussion shifted from economic matters, Vice Admiral Pratap brought up a pressing concern. "There is an emerging threat we’ve noticed within your region—an organization known as ISIS."

  As the discussion shifted from economic matters, Vice Admiral Pratap brought up a pressing concern. "There is an emerging threat we’ve noticed within your region—an organization known as ISIS."

  Admiral Serric and the Parpaldian delegates exchanged confused gnces. Serric leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "We have heard the name mentioned in intelligence reports, but our understanding is limited. What exactly is ISIS?"

  Pratap’s expression darkened, and he spoke with measured gravity. "ISIS, or the Ismic State, is a terrorist organization known for extreme violence and a radical ideology. They seek to establish a caliphate governed by their strict interpretation of Ismic w. They have been responsible for numerous atrocities, including mass executions, destruction of cultural heritage, and inspiring lone-wolf attacks globally. Their influence is insidious, spreading through fear and propaganda."

  The room grew tense as Pratap continued. "Though they have been weakened in many parts of our world, remnants of their ideology persist, seeking new grounds to exploit. If they are indeed active in your territory, it is a grave threat that could destabilize your region."

  The weight of Pratap's words hung heavily in the air. Minister Feyric, visibly unsettled, spoke up. "This is more serious than we anticipated. Their presence could pose a significant risk to our stability. We would greatly appreciate any assistance your forces could provide in addressing this threat."

  Pratap’s demeanor shifted slightly, a hint of detachment in his tone. "While we acknowledge the severity of the threat, I must be clear: the internal security of your nation is not our concern. Our focus is on our own strategic interests. We can offer intelligence-sharing, but direct involvement in your internal affairs is not something we are prepared to commit to."

  The rejection was stark. The Parpaldian delegates were taken aback, their initial relief repced with a growing unease. Admiral Serric’s tone was edged with tension. "You would leave us to face this threat alone, despite its potential impact on regional stability?"

  Pratap's expression remained neutral. "Our priority is the safety and interests of our nation. While we understand your predicament, it is not our pce to intervene directly. We can offer advice, but the responsibility to handle ISIS within your borders lies with your government."

  The atmosphere in the room soured. Serric’s jaw tightened as he exchanged a look with Minister Feyric. The refusal had not only left them vulnerable but also strained the possibility of any future cooperation between Parpaldia and India.

  "We appreciate your candor," Serric said stiffly. "But this pces us in a difficult position. We will have to address this threat on our own terms."

  Pratap inclined his head slightly. "We understand. It is in our mutual interest to maintain open lines of communication. However, our stance on direct involvement will not change."

  The meeting concluded on a note of palpable tension. As the Parpaldian delegation departed the Indian fgship, the sense of unease lingered. What had begun as a formal discussion now left Parpaldia contempting the implications of facing this threat alone, casting doubt over any potential colboration in the future.

  March 30, 1639 — Southern Parpaldia Railway, Approaching the Grand Iron Bridge from the Westhe rhythmic ctter of the train's wheels against the tracks filled the cabin with a steady, soothing hum. The vast expanse of the desert stretched out on either side, the golden hues of the sand blending seamlessly into the horizon. The train, a massive iron beast, cut through the ndscape like a needle threading through fabric.

  In the locomotive’s cab, two men stood side by side. Marcus, the elder of the two, had been a train driver for over two decades. His hands were calloused, his face weathered by years of exposure to the elements, but his eyes still held a spark of youthful curiosity. Beside him, Elias, a younger man with only a few years of experience, watched the controls with focused attention, his hand resting lightly on the throttle.

  “You ever think about what’s beyond all this?” Elias broke the comfortable silence, his gaze drifting to the horizon. “Beyond the sands and the mountains?”

  Marcus chuckled softly, his grip on the wheel steady. “All the time. When I was your age, I used to dream about what was on the other side of the ocean. Thought about boarding a ship and seeing the world. But life had other pns.”

  Elias nodded, his eyes still fixed on the distance. “I guess I’ve always wondered if there’s more out there. More than just tracks and stations.”

  “There is,” Marcus replied, his tone reflective. “But there’s also beauty in the journey, in the routine. You learn to appreciate the small things—the way the light hits the sand at dawn, the sound of the train as it moves through the quiet.”

  Elias turned to him, a hint of a smile pying on his lips. “Did you ever regret not leaving? Not chasing those dreams?”

  Marcus was quiet for a moment, the only sound the steady chug of the locomotive. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But then I think about all the moments I’ve had here. The friendships, the stories, the sunsets I’ve seen from this very seat. Life is about finding joy where you are, not just where you think you want to be.”

  Elias absorbed this, his mind a swirl of thoughts and emotions. “I suppose I’ve been so focused on getting somewhere, I haven’t stopped to appreciate where I am.”

  “That’s normal,” Marcus said with a grin. “Youth is for dreaming. But don’t forget to live in the present too. Every mile we cover, every town we pass—it’s all part of the adventure.”

  The train’s whistle blew, a long, mournful sound that echoed across the desert. The bridge was still a ways off, but its silhouette loomed in the distance, a reminder of the journey ahead. Elias looked at Marcus, a newfound respect in his eyes.

  “Thanks, Marcus. I needed that.”

  Marcus cpped a hand on his shoulder. “Anytime, kid. Now, let’s get this beast across that bridge. It’s just another part of the journey.”

  The Other Side of the Bridge

  Perched atop a rocky hill on the far side of the bridge, the ISIS soldiers y in wait, concealed among the sparse vegetation and jagged outcrops. From their vantage point, they had an unobstructed view of the bridge stretching across the deep canyon below, a lifeline connecting the east to the heart of the Parpaldian Empire.

  Faraj adjusted his binocurs, scanning the horizon for any sign of the approaching train. The faint glint of metal rails in the distance signaled the imminent arrival of their target. He handed the binocurs to the younger soldier beside him, who eagerly peered through the lenses.

  “There it is,” the younger man said, a note of excitement in his voice. “Right on time.”

  Faraj nodded, a grim smile pying at the corners of his mouth. “Good. Let them come. They will not leave this pce alive.”

  The soldiers y prone, their bodies blending with the rocky terrain. They spoke in hushed tones, their words carried away by the desert breeze.

  “I heard this train carries supplies and officials,” one of the men murmured. “Taking it down will send a strong message.”

  Faraj’s eyes narrowed as he observed the train’s slow approach. “This is more than a message. It is a demonstration of our power, a warning to all who oppose us. The Parpaldians will know fear when they see what we are capable of.”

  The younger soldier, still gazing through the binocurs, asked, “Do you think they’ll retaliate?”

  Faraj snorted. “Let them try. They are weak, unprepared for the kind of war we bring. Our faith makes us strong, and our cause is just.”

  The soldiers watched as the train neared the bridge, its engine chugging steadily, unaware of the danger that y ahead. The sun cast long shadows across the ndscape, the golden light paints the scene in hues of orange and red.

  Faraj's hand hovered over the detonator, his fingers curling around it with a sense of purpose. He changed at his comrades, their faces set with determination.

  “Remember, brothers,” he said, his voice firm. “This is the will of Alh. We do this for His glory.”

  They all nodded, their expressions hardening as the train began its ascent onto the bridge. The tension in the air was thick, each second stretching into an eternity as they waited for the perfect moment to strike.

  Faraj took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the train now halfway across the bridge. The time had come to unleash their wrath.

  Inside Train Control Cabin

  Back in the train, Elias Marcus, one of the seasoned train drivers, leaned back in his seat, a wistful smile pying on his lips. “You know,” he began, his voice carrying a note of dreamlike yearning, “once this war is over, I’m thinking of settling down somewhere quiet. Maybe open a little café by the coast. Fresh coffee, the sound of the waves... doesn't that sound perfect?”

  His fellow train driver, a quiet man of simir years and experience, chuckled softly as he adjusted the throttle. “A café, huh? Always the dreamer, Elias. But I can’t say I bme you. After all this... who wouldn’t want peace? I’d come by for a cup or two, that’s for sure.”

  Elias’ smile broadened. “You’d better. First customer gets free coffee for life.”

  Their ughter filled the cabin, a brief escape from the gravity of their situation. For a moment, the world outside seemed far away, repced by the simple pleasures of companionship and shared dreams.

  The conversation turned more contemptive as the train neared the bridge. “Do you ever think about what comes after all this?” Elias asked, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I mean, really think about it?”

  His colleague nodded, his expression turning serious. “All the time. It’s what keeps me going, honestly. The hope that one day we’ll get to live the lives we’ve been dreaming about.”

  Their moment of reflection was shattered by a sudden, thunderous explosion. The bridge ahead erupted in a fiery bze, sending a shockwave that rocked the ground beneath them. Fmes and debris shot into the sky, creating a terrifying spectacle of destruction.

  “What the hell?!” Elias shouted, his heart pounding as he instinctively reached for the brake lever. His hands trembled as he tried to process what was happening.

  “Explosion! The bridge—it's gone!” His colleague’s voice was strained with panic as he grabbed the emergency brake, yanking it with all his strength. “We have to stop the train!”

  The train screeched in protest, its metal wheels grinding against the tracks, sparks flying in every direction. The locomotive shuddered violently, but it was still hurtling toward the ruined bridge with arming speed.

  From the carriages behind them, the panicked cries of the soldiers filled the air, their voices a cacophony of fear and confusion. “What’s happening?” “Are we under attack?” “Stop the train!” Their shouts mingled with the grinding of metal and the roar of the approaching catastrophe, creating a harrowing symphony of dread.

  Before Elias could react further, a sharp crack echoed through the cabin. His colleague’s head jerked back, and he colpsed against the controls, his eyes wide with shock as blood trickled down his face. He had been shot—an assassin’s bullet finding its mark.

  “No! No, no, no!” Elias cried out, his voice thick with horror. His mind raced, overwhelmed by the unfolding nightmare. He gnced out of the window, spotting shadowy figures on the distant hills, their rifles trained on the train. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut: they were under attack.

  Time seemed to slow as the train barreled forward, the gap where the bridge had stood looming closer. Elias’ hands hovered over the controls, frozen in fear and indecision. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable.

  The front of the train hit the edge of the chasm, and with a sickening lurch, the locomotive began to tip forward. The weight of the massive train pulled it down into the abyss, the cars following like a chain of falling dominoes.

  As the train plummeted, the cargo of explosives stored in the rear cars detonated upon impact with the canyon floor. The resulting explosion was cataclysmic, a deafening roar that sent a fiery shockwave through the canyon, engulfing the train in a massive fireball. The force of the bst sent debris flying in all directions, shaking the ground and lighting up the night sky like a second sun.

  Elias’ breath caught in his throat as the train disintegrated around him, the screams of the soldiers aboard mingling with the roar of the explosion. In those final moments, all he could do was hold on as the world spun around him, the sky and earth merging in a blur of chaos and devastation.

  The train, carrying over two thousand soldiers and a lethal payload of explosives, disappeared into the canyon below, leaving behind a scene of smoldering wreckage and a haunting silence that would echo through the annals of history.

  Above the train, two majestic Parpaldia Wyverns flew in formation, their powerful wings cutting through the air with a rhythmic grace. The Parpaldian pilots atop their mounts kept a watchful eye on the terrain below, their mission simple: escort the train safely across the bridge. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and red, a picturesque scene that belied the danger lurking ahead.

  The sudden eruption of the bridge shattered the serenity, a deafening explosion sending fmes and debris skyward. The pilots instinctively pulled their Wyverns higher, startled by the sheer magnitude of the bst. Smoke billowed into the air as the train below derailed, its cars plunging into the canyon.

  “What in the name of the gods was that?!” one of the pilots shouted, his voice filled with confusion and fear.

  “The bridge—it’s gone! The train is falling!” the other pilot responded, his eyes wide as he struggled to comprehend the disaster unfolding beneath them.

  Before they could fully grasp the situation, a new threat emerged. From the hills on the far side of the canyon, two streaks of smoke rose into the sky, their origins unknown to the Parpaldian pilots. The projectiles, propelled by an unfamiliar force, hurtled toward the Wyverns with deadly precision.

  “What kind of sorcery is this?” the first pilot excimed, his heart racing as he tried to maneuver his Wyvern away from the incoming threat. “Are they... shooting at us?”

  The concept of missiles was beyond their understanding; they knew only the artillery and cannon fire of their era. Yet these streaks in the sky moved with a speed and accuracy unlike anything they had encountered before.

  “Evasive maneuvers! We must—” the second pilot’s command was cut short as one of the projectiles struck his Wyvern. The creature let out a pained screech as it was engulfed in fmes, the force of the impact sending it spiraling toward the ground.

  The second Wyvern attempted to climb higher, its rider desperate to escape the unseen enemy. But the second projectile found its mark, detonating against the beast’s side. The explosion ripped through its wing, sending both the Wyvern and its pilot into a fiery descent.

  As the pilots tumbled through the air, their parachutes something that every wyvern pilot should have unfurled—a st-ditch effort to save their lives. The fabric of the parachutes caught the rising heat from the explosions below, struggling to slow their fall. The pilots, bewildered and terrified, could only watch as their majestic mounts plummeted, becoming fireballs against the darkening sky.

  The sounds of panic and the cries of the dying filled the air, mingling with the roar of the explosions. The pilots, still grappling with the shock of what had transpired, descended into a world of smoke and fire, the once peaceful ndscape transformed into a scene of carnage.

  The ISIS soldiers, having completed their mission, swiftly retreated to their Humvees, methodically stowing their MANPAD equipment. The scene they left behind was one of utter devastation—a once bustling area now consumed by thick, acrid smoke and fmes that raged uncontrolbly, casting an ominous glow across the desote ndscape. Their departure was marked by the distant roar of engines, a chilling reminder of the havoc they had wrought, and the looming threat of their return. The air was thick with the scent of burning debris, a stark testament to the calcuted brutality of their assault and the strategic precision with which they executed their operations, leaving no doubt about the chaos they intended to sow.

  March 30, 1639 — Camp de Vallée, 60 Kilometers from Saint-Boyeux, Parpaldia Empire

  The sun had begun its slow descent, casting an amber glow across the rolling hills of Southern Parpaldia. The Orientalis brigade, numbering four thousand soldiers, marched steadily along the dusty road that led to the port city of Saint Boyeux. The journey had been arduous, the men and women of the Parpaldian military trudging through the heat of the day with a grim determination that spoke to the urgency of their mission.

  Earlier that morning, an urgent dispatch had arrived from the capital, summoning the brigade from their garrison in the nearby city of Valtes. The orders were clear: mobilize immediately and secure Saint Boyeux. The city, a vital economic hub, was now under threat, and the government could not afford to lose it.

  The soldiers moved in disciplined columns, their armor clinking softly with each step. Captain Captain Bernard rode at the head of the formation, his steely gaze fixed on the horizon. He had served in the Parpaldian military for over two decades, his experience evident in the calm authority with which he led his troops.

  As the day wore on, the ndscape began to change. The open pins gave way to more rugged terrain, the path winding through a series of low hills that provided a welcome respite from the relentless sun. The soldiers took advantage of the natural shade, pausing briefly to rest and hydrate before pressing on.

  By te afternoon, the brigade reached a small pteau overlooking a vast expanse of wilderness. It was here, sixty kilometers from their destination, that Captain Bernard decided to make camp. The decision was met with quiet relief; the soldiers were exhausted, their bodies aching from the relentless march.

  Tents were erected in neat rows, and fires were kindled to prepare the evening meal. The smell of cooking food wafted through the camp, mingling with the earthy scent of the surrounding ndscape. Soldiers gathered in small groups, sharing stories and ughter as they ate. Despite the weariness, there was a palpable sense of camaraderie and resolve.

  Captain Bernard stood at the edge of the camp, his eyes scanning the distant horizon. The glow of Saint Boyeux was just barely visible, a faint shimmer of light against the darkening sky. He knew that tomorrow would be a decisive day. The port city was a crucial asset, and its defense was paramount.

  The night was cool, a stark contrast to the sweltering day that had seen the Parpaldian brigade trudging eastward. Campfires flickered across the makeshift encampment, casting long shadows over the gathered tents and weary soldiers. The soft murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of metal broke the serene silence, but the mood was tense. Tomorrow, they would march on Saint-Boyeux.

  In the central tent, Captain Bernard Moreau sat at the head of a wooden table, his brows furrowed in thought. Around him, several officers, including Lieutenants Thibault Leclerc and Marc Duval, leaned in, poring over a map spread across the table.

  "Saint-Boyeux is our objective," Bernard began, his finger tracing a line from their current position to the port city. "We've been mobilized quickly by the government, and our orders are clear: secure the city, crush any resistance."

  Thibault nodded, his face reflecting the confidence typical of the Parpaldian military. "Captain, we have the numbers and the training. A mere port city shouldn’t pose a significant threat. Our forces are more than capable of handling this."

  Marc, however, shared Bernard's concerns. "But what do we know of their defenses? Their technology? There have been whispers—rumors—that the enemy might possess advanced weapons, perhaps even Muan technology. If that’s true, it could be a challenge."

  Bernard sighed, his gaze heavy with unease. "We’ve received little intelligence from Altaras. Our superiors in the capital were vague, offering scant details on the enemy's capabilities. All we know is that there are foreign elements in Saint-Boyeux, and they may be better equipped than we initially thought."

  Thibault dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. "Rumors. Likely exaggerated. Even if they have some advanced technology, they are no match for the might of Parpaldia. We are an empire—our pride and strength are unmatched."

  Marc exchanged a gnce with Bernard, both sensing the underlying tension. "Pride is important," Marc conceded, "but it doesn't win battles. If they do have Muan-level technology—tanks, machine guns, perhaps even aircraft—we could be walking into a trap. Anyway, there’s no sight of those weapons by now…"

  Bernard's eyes darkened as he considered the possibilities. "It's not just pride at stake. It's the lives of our men. We must be prepared for any eventuality. We can't afford to underestimate them."

  The tent fell into a contemptive silence, the officers mulling over their captain's words. Finally, Bernard spoke again, his tone resolute. "Tomorrow, we proceed as pnned. But remain vigint. We will send scouts ahead at first light to gather more intelligence. I want every officer prepared for rapid adjustments. Our objective is clear, but how we achieve it must be flexible."

  The officers nodded, their expressions a mix of determination and unease. As they dispersed to rey orders and prepare their troops, Bernard remained seated, staring at the map. The firelight danced over the contours of the terrain, but in his mind, shadows of doubt loomed rge.

  He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The pride of Parpaldia was formidable, but pride alone wouldn’t guarantee victory. With a heavy heart, he hoped that the morning light would bring crity, or at least, a fighting chance.

  Cude, a young and retively inexperienced guard, stood at the edge of the camp, his posture rigid as he scanned the darkness beyond the flickering glow of the campfires. His fellow guards were scattered along the perimeter, their forms silhouetted against the warm light.

  The sounds of the night were familiar—rustling leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the steady hum of insects. These noises usually brought a sense of calm, a reminder of the normalcy that still existed beyond the chaos of war. But tonight, an undercurrent of tension permeated the air. The soldiers knew they were nearing enemy territory, and the weight of the unknown pressed heavily upon them.

  Cude shifted uneasily, his boots crunching softly on the dry ground. The stillness of the night made him restless. After several hours on watch, he felt the need for a brief reprieve. He turned to his fellow guard, offering a quick nod.

  “Need to take a piss. Be right back,” he muttered, his voice low but clear in the quiet night.

  His comrade gave a brief, acknowledging grunt, and Cude stepped away from his post, venturing into the shadows. The campfires’ glow faded behind him as he walked a short distance, finding a secluded spot among the sparse trees. He unbuttoned his trousers and sighed in relief, letting the tension of the day slip away momentarily.

  As he stood there, a faint buzzing noise caught his attention. It was subtle at first, blending with the ambient sounds of the night. He furrowed his brow, momentarily distracted, but dismissed it as an unusually rge insect. The noise, however, grew louder, more distinct, and decidedly unnatural. His sense of unease returned, creeping up his spine like an icy hand.

  Cude’s eyes darted around, straining to see through the darkness. The pale light of the moon provided little illumination, casting elongated shadows across the terrain. His heart began to race as he spotted a small, unfamiliar object hovering just above the ground a few meters away. Its metallic surface glinted faintly in the moonlight, and it moved in erratic patterns, emitting a low, mechanical whirring sound.

  Fear clutched at Cude’s chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. The object was unlike anything he had ever seen, and an unexpinable dread filled him. He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a root as he zipped up his trousers in a hurried, fumbling motion.

  Panic surged through him as he turned and sprinted back toward the camp, his heart pounding in his ears. The uneven ground threatened to trip him with every step, but he didn’t slow down. His mind raced with images of the strange object, the sound of its buzzing echoing in his head.

  Bursting into the command tent, Cude’s abrupt entrance startled the officers inside. Captain Bernard, who had been hunched over a map, analyzing their position and potential strategies, straightened and turned to face the young guard. His sharp eyes immediately noted the fear etched across Cude’s face.

  “Captain! There’s... something out there!” Cude gasped, struggling to catch his breath. His words tumbled out in a rush, his voice ced with panic. “It’s like an insect, but... but it’s not!”

  Bernard’s brow furrowed, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. He had heard whispers of the enemy’s technological advancements, but nothing concrete had been reported. He stepped closer to Cude, pcing a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder to steady him. “Calm down, soldier. What did you see?”

  Cude took a deep, shuddering breath, his hands trembling as he recounted the encounter. “I don’t know, sir. It was small, flying... and it made this strange noise. It didn’t look natural. It was metallic, like... like something out of a dream.”

  The officers exchanged worried gnces, the weight of Cude’s words sinking in. Captain Bernard’s concern deepened. The enemy’s capabilities had been an enigma, and this sighting only added to the growing list of uncertainties. The Parpaldian forces were prepared for conventional warfare, but facing unknown technology was a daunting prospect.

  Bernard nodded slowly, his mind racing with the implications. “We’ll look into this immediately. Thank you for reporting it, Cude. Get some rest now. You’ve done your duty.”

  Cude nodded, though the fear in his eyes had not diminished. He took a seat near the entrance of the tent, his body still trembling.

  Bernard turned to his officers, his expression grim. “Marcel, assemble a team and investigate the area. Be thorough, but cautious. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  “Yes, sir,” Marcel replied, saluting before leaving the tent to carry out the order.

  As Bernard returned his gaze to the map, the once-clear path to Saint Boyeux now seemed fraught with unseen dangers. The night had taken an ominous turn, and the captain knew that the road ahead would test their resolve in ways they had not anticipated.

  While the tension in the tent was still rising, suddenly there was an explosion, sending shockwaves through the Parpaldian camp. Soldiers jolted awake, their eyes wide with terror as fire lit up the night sky. The once orderly rows of tents quickly descended into chaos, with men scrambling for their weapons and shouting in confusion.

  Captain Bernard rushed out of his tent, his heart pounding as he surveyed the scene. Plumes of smoke rose from several points around the camp, and the acrid smell of burning fabric filled the air. He could see his men running in all directions, their faces contorted in fear and panic.

  "What’s happening?!" Bernard bellowed, trying to gain control of the situation.

  "Captain!" a soldier cried, pointing towards the sky. "Look! The enemy!"

  Bernard's eyes followed the soldier's trembling finger. Against the dark backdrop of the night, he spotted faint red and green lights, moving erratically above the camp. The lights zipped through the air, weaving between bursts of fire and smoke. They were small and fast, too fast for any weapon they had seen before.

  Another explosion erupted, sending a tent flying into the air. The men screamed, some diving for cover, others firing their rifles into the sky. The sound of gunfire mixed with the chaotic noise of destruction, but their bullets found no targets. The red and green lights continued their relentless dance, seemingly unaffected by the desperate attempts to bring them down.

  "Captain, what are those things?" Lieutenant Fran?ois asked, his voice tight with fear. "They’re too small to be any airship or creature we know."

  Bernard's mind raced, struggling to comprehend the situation. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice grim. "But whatever they are, they're not natural. They must be some kind of enemy weapon."

  The soldiers' fear turned into desperation as they continued firing into the night sky, their bullets useless against the elusive lights. The lights would dart away, only to reappear moments ter, followed by another explosion.

  "Keep firing!" one soldier shouted, his voice cracking with panic. "We have to hit them!"

  "Calm down!" Bernard ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Cease fire! We’re wasting ammunition!"

  The gunfire gradually subsided, but the panic did not. The men gathered around Bernard, their faces pale and eyes wide with terror.

  "Captain, what do we do?" Bernard, a seasoned soldier, asked, his hands trembling. "We can't even see what we're fighting. It's like we're under attack from ghosts."

  Bernard took a deep breath, trying to steady his own nerves. "Listen to me," he said, his voice firm. "We don't know what we're dealing with, but we can't afford to lose our heads. We need to regroup, tend to the wounded, and find a way to defend ourselves."

  "But Captain," Fran?ois interjected, "these lights—they move like nothing we’ve seen. Could it be the Muan technology we've heard whispers about? Could they have advanced beyond what we know?"

  Bernard's jaw tightened at the mention of Muan technology. The thought had crossed his mind, but the implications were dire. If the enemy had weapons far beyond their understanding, their entire strategy would need to change.

  "We can't jump to conclusions," Bernard said, though uncertainty tinged his voice. "We need more information. Send scouts to the surrounding area. Maybe we can find out where these... devices are being controlled from."

  Fran?ois saluted and hurried off to carry out the orders, while Bernard turned back to his men. "The rest of you, stay alert. Help the wounded and fortify the camp. We may not know what we're up against, but we are Parpaldian soldiers. We will face this with courage and resolve."

  As the men moved to follow his commands, Bernard stood, watching the erratic dance of the red and green lights. His heart was heavy with the weight of the unknown, and the creeping realization that this battle was unlike any they had fought before.

  The camp remained on high alert through the night. Every flicker of movement in the dark sent a ripple of tension through the soldiers, their nerves frayed from the relentless bombardment. Despite the chaos, Captain Bernard maintained a steely composure, directing efforts to regroup and secure the camp. Fires were extinguished, the wounded were treated, and makeshift defenses were erected as the men braced themselves for another wave of attack.

  April 1st, 1639

  As the hours dragged on, the eerie lights eventually disappeared into the predawn darkness. The camp was left in a state of uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional groan of the injured and the whispered conversations of soldiers trying to make sense of what had happened.

  Bernard gathered his officers in the command tent, a map of the surrounding area spread out before them. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, but his mind was sharp, focused on the task at hand.

  "We need answers," he said, his voice low but firm. "Fran?ois, what have the scouts reported?"

  Lieutenant Fran?ois stepped forward, his expression grim. "The scouts returned just before dawn. They found no sign of the enemy. No tracks, no camps, no evidence of where those devices came from or where they went. It’s as if they vanished into thin air."

  The officers exchanged uneasy gnces, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them.

  "This doesn't make sense," muttered Bernard, shaking his head. "How can an entire enemy force just disappear without a trace?"

  "It’s possible they have some sort of advanced technology," Bernard specuted, his mind racing through the limited information they had. "Those lights—whatever they were—could be controlled remotely, or from a distance we can’t yet fathom."

  Fran?ois nodded slowly. "If that's true, it means we’re facing an enemy with capabilities far beyond our own. We need to adjust our tactics, prepare for the possibility of facing more of these... devices."

  Bernard turned to his men, his gaze steady. "We can't let fear dictate our actions. Our mission remains the same: to reach Saint Boyeux and secure the port. But we must be vigint, adapt to what we encounter, and gather any intelligence we can. We can’t afford to be caught off guard again."

  The officers nodded in agreement, the weight of the captain’s words settling over them like a heavy mantle. They knew the path ahead would be fraught with uncertainty, but retreat was not an option.

  As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the camp stirred with renewed purpose. The soldiers, though weary and wary, busied themselves with breaking down the camp and preparing for the march ahead. The scent of rationed breakfasts wafted through the air as they fortified their resolve for the journey to Saint Boyeux.

  Bernard walked through the camp, offering words of encouragement to his men, his presence a steadying force amidst the tension. He paused by a group of soldiers huddled around a small fire, their faces drawn with fatigue and anxiety.

  "Keep your eyes sharp and your wits about you," Bernard advised. "We don’t know when or where the enemy might strike again, but we’ll be ready. Together, we’ll face whatever comes."

  The men nodded, their spirits bolstered by their captain’s resolve. As the sun rose higher, casting its golden light over the ndscape, the Parpaldian brigade resumed their march toward Saint Boyeux. Though the night had shaken them, their determination was unyielded.

  Dawn Engagement

  Captain Bernard stood at the center of the camp, his gaze fixed on the skies as he awaited the reinforcements he had requested in the early hours of the morning.

  The distant roar of wings cutting through the air soon reached their ears, and all heads turned upwards. Five majestic Wyverns soared over the horizon, their sleek forms glinting in the morning sun. With powerful wingbeats, the creatures descended, their riders cd in the distinctive armor of Parpaldian aerial units.

  The sight of the Wyverns stirred a ripple of hope and pride among the soldiers. Murmurs spread through the ranks, and for the first time since the attack, a sembnce of confidence returned to their faces. The presence of their mighty aerial defenders seemed to dispel the lingering shadows of fear.

  Captain Bernard approached the lead rider as the Wyverns touched down, their cws sinking into the scorched earth. The rider, a seasoned veteran with a sharp gaze, saluted sharply. "Captain Bernard, we received your distress call. What’s the situation?"

  Bernard nodded, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "We're still unsure of what exactly we're facing. The enemy used some sort of flying devices to bomb our camp. We couldn't get a clear view, but they had lights—red and green—moving in the sky. We suspect they are highly advanced, perhaps beyond anything we've encountered before."

  The rider's brow furrowed. "Flying devices? Could it be some Muan technology we've yet to encounter?"

  "It's possible," Bernard admitted, his voice heavy with concern. "We need your Wyverns to scout the area, find any sign of the enemy. With you here, our men will feel more secure as we continue our march to Saint Boyeux."

  The rider nodded, mounting his Wyvern. "We'll patrol the perimeter. If there's anything out there, we'll find it."

  As the Wyverns took to the skies once more, their shadows cast long across the camp, the soldiers watched with a mix of awe and reassurance. The powerful creatures and their riders seemed to embody the strength and resilience of Parpaldia, a reminder of their nation's might.

  With their aerial guardians above, the brigade prepared to resume their march, the fear of the unknown still lingering but tempered by the hope that their journey to Saint Boyeux would be one of triumph, not tragedy.

  The five Wyverns soared over the rugged terrain, their keen eyes scanning for any sign of the elusive enemy. The morning sun cast long shadows over the ndscape, highlighting every ridge and crevice. As they patrolled, the lead rider spotted movement in the distance—a metallic glint against the earthy tones of the desert.

  "Look there!" he called out, pointing toward a small convoy moving along a dirt path. The vehicles were unlike anything they had ever seen, boxy and robust, with wheels that churned up dust as they rolled along. "What in the gods' names is that? a car with a weapon on top?"

  The riders exchanged puzzled gnces. They had been briefed on Muan technology, but these vehicles, with their strange construction and peculiar weapon mounted on top, were foreign even to them. The lead rider made a quick decision. "Whatever they are, they must be the enemy. Let's take them out before they can alert their forces!"

  The Wyverns dived, their powerful wings slicing through the air as they descended upon the convoy. Fmes gathered in their throats, ready to unleash destruction upon their targets. But as they closed in, a deafening roar erupted from the convoy. The mounted weapon, an M2 Browning machine gun, opened fire, sending a torrent of bullets skyward.

  The first Wyvern was struck, its scales offering little resistance against the modern projectiles. It let out a piercing screech as it spiraled out of control, crashing into the ground in a cloud of dust and debris. Another followed, its rider thrown violently from his saddle as the Wyvern plummeted to its doom.

  The remaining riders pulled up, their formation breaking as they dodged the relentless hail of bullets. The surviving Wyverns retaliated, unching fireballs at the Humvee, but their aim was off. The fireballs exploded harmlessly against the ground, missing their mark.

  "Fall back!" the lead rider commanded, his voice strained with urgency. The Wyverns veered away, climbing back into the sky, their riders shaken by the unexpected resistance. As they regrouped, the riders debated their next move, their minds racing to comprehend the threat they faced.

  "What kind of weapon was that?" one rider asked, his voice edged with fear. "We've never seen anything gun shoot multiple times with ridiculous speed like it!"

  "I don't know," the lead rider admitted, "but it's deadly. We need to figure out a way to take them down without getting ourselves killed."

  Before they could devise a pn, a new threat emerged. From the ground, two streaks of smoke ascended rapidly, heading straight for them. The riders barely had time to react as the missiles struck. Explosions ripped through the air, engulfing two more Wyverns in fmes, their bodies turning into fiery plummets to the earth below.

  The st remaining Wyvern, its rider wide-eyed with terror, veered wildly to escape the deadly assault. Heart pounding, the rider urged his mount to fly faster, away from the chaos and back toward the camp. His mind reeled from the encounter, the vision of his comrades' fiery deaths seared into his memory.

  As he approached the camp, he forced himself to steady his breath, trying to maintain a sembnce of calm. But the fear in his eyes was unmistakable as he nded and rushed to report to Captain Bernard.

  "Captain," he gasped, his voice trembling, "we... we encountered the enemy. They have weapons... unimaginable weapons, they also have car but they’re faster and advanced anti air weapons. Our Wyverns... they're gone. All but me."

  The camp fell silent as the weight of his words sank in. Captain Bernard's expression hardened, his mind racing to process the implications of this devastating revetion.

  After that Captain Bernard's speak out “This is very crucial information, it’s might help our forces to deal against enemies like them, go back and report this to Esthirant! This is urgent!”

  The Wyvern pilot nodded and back to Wyvern then fly far away. Captain Bernard's look at the wyvern blending in the sky with most important information about their enemy.

  The Parpaldian forces, proud and confident in their superiority, were now faced with a terrifying reality: they were up against an enemy with technology far beyond their comprehension, and their journey to Saint Boyeux had just become far more perilous.

  The army of 4,000 before now only has 3,846 soldiers, found themselves facing an unexpected enemy.The Parpaldian brigade stirred from an uneasy rest, the soldiers weary from the previous night's chaos. Captain Bernard stood at the edge of the camp, watching the horizon. The morning air was thick with tension, the promise of another confrontation looming.

  Scouts returned, breathless and urgent. "Captain! A convoy of enemy vehicles, they are approaching with the ridiculous speed from the hills!"

  Bernard's heart sank. "Prepare for battle! Spread out and take cover. Artillery teams, position the cannons. We can't let them overrun us."

  The brigade mobilized quickly, soldiers taking up defensive positions across the rocky ndscape. Cannons were wheeled into pce, and musketeers lined up behind makeshift cover. The Humvees and other vehicles like Toyota, with their bck fgs fluttering ominously, crested the hill, their engines roaring as they descended toward the Parpaldian camp.

  The cannons fired first, the thunderous bsts sending shockwaves through the morning air. One Toyota Hilux took a direct hit, careening off the path and drowning in a plume of fire. The Parpaldians cheered, their spirits momentarily lifted. But the remaining vehicles pressed on, their mounted M2 Brownings and RPK machine guns opening fire. Bullets tore through the camp, forcing soldiers to dive for cover.

  "Hold your positions!" Bernard shouted, rallying his troops. "Aim for their tires! Disable their mobility!"

  The musketeers fired in volleys, targeting the vulnerable parts of the Humvees. Some shots found their mark, but many ricocheted harmlessly off the armored frames. The Humvees halted, and ISIS fighters dismounted, advancing on foot. Their rifles and machine guns unleashed a hail of bullets, cutting down Parpaldian soldiers who dared to rise from cover.

  Amid the chaos, a buzzing noise filled the air. Soldiers looked up, spotting small drones—UAVs equipped with explosives. The drones hovered over the camp, dropping their deadly payloads with precision. Explosions erupted, throwing men and debris into the air. The Parpaldian ranks broke into disarray, the panic palpable.

  "Captain! We're being bombed from the skies!" a soldier cried out.

  "Focus fire on those insects!" Bernard ordered, pointing to the red and green lights of the UAVs. "Take them down!"

  The Parpaldians aimed their muskets skyward, firing at the elusive targets. The shots were wild, the drones too small and fast for their antiquated weapons to hit reliably. The drones continued their assault, creating chaos and destruction below.

  Meanwhile, the battle on the ground intensified. Parpaldian artillery crews fought valiantly, firing cannon after cannon to repel the advancing ISIS fighters. But the enemy's mobility and firepower proved too great. Rockets unched from the Humvees struck the cannons, silencing them one by one.

  Parpaldian soldiers, out of ammunition, resorted to desperate bayonet charges. "For Parpaldia!" they cried, rushing toward the enemy lines. The brave assaults were met with devastating machine gun fire, cutting down the attackers before they could close the distance.

  Captain Bernard, rallying a group of survivors, shouted, "Fall back to the inner camp! Regroup and hold the line!" But as they retreated, the relentless advance of ISIS forces left little room for maneuver.

  Amid the retreat, Lieutenant Moreau grabbed Bernard's arm. "Captain, we can't hold them off much longer. We're being overwhelmed!"

  Bernard's jaw tightened. "We have no choice. We fight to the st man. Parpaldia will not fall without a fight."

  The remaining Parpaldian forces dug in, forming a st stand around the command tent. The Humvees encircled the camp, their guns raking the defensive line. The battle raged on, each side pouring everything into the fray.

  But as the sun climbed higher, the Parpaldian resistance began to crumble. One by one, their cannons fell silent, their muskets empty. The ISIS fighters, emboldened by their superior technology and tactics, pushed forward relentlessly.

  In the final moments, Bernard stood amidst the wreckage, his sword drawn, facing the encroaching enemy. "Parpaldia will endure!" he shouted, before being struck down.

  By the time the dust settled, the Parpaldian brigade y in ruin. The few surviving soldiers were rounded up, their hands bound, captured by an enemy they had barely understood. The battlefield, once a pce of hope and defiance, now echoed with the grim silence of defeat.

  the captured Parpaldian soldiers were gathered in a Saint-Boyeux makeshift camp under heavy guard, Inside the steel vehicles, and they see the terror in city was once a peaceful pce. Those Parpaldians have witnessed many equipments they never see before, after they lead them to somewhere deeper inside the base. Fear gripped the men as they were forced to kneel, their hands bound tightly behind their backs. Captain Bernard, bloodied and defiant, was singled out by the ISIS fighters, dragged before a crude recording setup.

  The camera’s red light blinked ominously as Bernard was forced to his knees. The fighters surrounding him spoke in harsh, guttural tones, their faces masked, their intentions clear. Bernard, though battered, held his head high, his eyes filled with defiance even in the face of imminent horror.

  The recording device whirred to life, capturing the grim tableau. The masked leader of the ISIS group stepped forward, producing a knife. In a brutal dispy meant to instill terror, they began to peel the skin from Bernard’s face, their actions deliberate and merciless.

  The Parpaldian soldiers, watching in horror, erupted into panicked cries. Some struggled against their bonds, others turned away, unable to bear the gruesome sight. The camp was filled with the sounds of terror and despair as the soldiers witnessed the unimaginable cruelty inflicted upon their captain.

  Bernard's screams echoed across the desote battlefield, a chilling reminder of the savagery they faced. The Parpaldian soldiers, once proud and disciplined, were reduced to trembling captives, their morale shattered by the horrific execution of their leader.

  The ISIS fighters take out Bernard’s face and raise it up to the sky, they shout loud Altaras nguage “Alh Akbar!! Death to white demon!!”

  As the recording ended, the ISIS fighters discarded Bernard’s lifeless body, leaving it as a macabre symbol of their dominance. The surviving Parpaldian soldiers were left to grapple with their fear and grief, the gruesome dispy a harrowing testament to the brutality of their captors.

  This event will mark the beginning of the fall of the most powerful Empire of Phides, as well as burnish the names of the deadly terrorists of the Earth.