The glow of the burning ships surrounding the Leviathan was reflected on the face of Sephral's featureless mask through the crystal windows. Beneath it, his lips twitched with barely restrained anger as he watched yet another vessel of his fleet split apart as an internal explosion had torn it asunder, sending the severed halves of the hull drifting almost serenely into the churning ocean.

On the bridge, the crew and officers stood paralyzed with pale and disbelieving faces by the battle raging beyond the reinforced enchanted windows, which can be described as a massacre and a one-sided slaughter. They stared in horror as ship after ship fell, with their crews dying without even catching a glimpse of the enemy that was killing their people with impunity.

"Fleet Commander!" A panicked aide snapped a sharp salute as he delivered his report. "The Chief Guard requests reinforcements! The upper decks have been overrun and the guards could not hold them any longer!"

"Damn it!" Sephral suddenly yelled as he spun on his heel to face the frightened aide. His voice cut through the suffocating tension like a blade as he spoke. “All of you!” His gaze burned as it swept over his commanders. “Take back the rear core station! Now!”

The shaken commanders and generals hastily left the bridge, summoning their personnel guards as they rushed to carry out Sephral's orders. Watching them depart from the bridge, Sephral’s expression hardened.

With a curt gesture, he signaled to his own guards. "Attend to me."

Eight figures in crimson coats and identical masks, the elite warriors of the “Crimson Guardians”, stepped forward in a straight row and in perfect unison before Sephral. Without a word, Sephral turned and strode briskly toward the hangar decks with his aides and guards close behind. The metallic corridors groaned with each impact from outside, and fine dust rained down from the trembling overhead panels.

“Prepare the teleportation platform!” Sephral barked over his shoulder. “You two,” he snapped, pointing at a pair of aides, “retrieve my luggage and everything of value from the vaults. Now!”

The Crimson Guardians moved ahead with their hands resting on their weapons as they led the way.

Just as the group rounded a corner, they bumped and came face-to-face with seven strangers dressed in unfamiliar attire and wielding alien devices.

“...”

“...”

For a heartbeat, both sides froze and stared at each other in utter silence.

Then one of the Crimson Guardians acted and leaped into action, drawing a pair of short swords that flashed as she charged forward. The rest of the Crimson Guardians pushed Sephral and his party back down the corridor, forming a protective barrier as they ushered him toward safety. Another Crimson Guardian member stayed behind with his greatsword drawn to support his fellow sister against the invaders.

The clash of steel and the thunderous roars of foreign weaponry broke out behind Sephral as his guards fought against the invaders. He cursed under his breath inwardly and quickened his steps, veering toward an alternate path that would lead to the chamber housing the teleportation artifact. Each step carried him closer to salvation, yet his mind churned with frustration and dread.

How had it all unraveled so quickly? Who were these invaders wielding such power? No one within the Third Civilization Zone, save for the dwarves, should possess such devastating weaponry.

————————————————————————

Aegeusia was a Level 10 warrior-mage, a highly skilled member of the Crimson Guardians who had been raised within the Knight Order since her earliest memories. Training in both martial and magical arts, she had passed the grueling Final Examination to earn her rank of Captain.

Right now, her mission was to ensure the safety of the Fleet Commander, and she communicated with her brothers and sisters not through words but through a profound emotional bond.

Her pinkish-purple eyes, flecked with stars in her pupils, narrowed as she took in the enemy before her. They wielded strange magic muskets that crackled faintly with magic. Beside her stood her twin brother, his blonde hair and blue star-like eyes a mirror to her own. Their silent exchange of determination needed no words as they understood each other perfectly.

With a sharp nod, Aegeusia materialized her twin short sword, stilettos, out of thin air. Their enchanted blades shimmered with latent magic as her crimson cloak swept behind her. Without hesitation, she charged the enemy line.

“Open fire!” one of the attackers yelled as he and the others raised their guns and opened fire. The crack of gunfire shattered the air as the enemy unleashed a hail of bullets.

‘[Greater Evasion]. [Invulnerable Fortress]. [Pace of the Wind].’

Aegeusia’s body blurred as she activated her skills. She danced through the hail of gunfire, each movement impossibly precise as she evaded bullets with an almost preternatural grace. The magical barrier of [Invulnerable Fortress] deflected stray shots, while [Greater Evasion] and [Pace of the Wind] heightened her speed, allowing her to close the distance in a blink of an eye.

As she closed the distance, she thrust and stabbed each of her short blades at the closest enemy, and with a whispered command, she unleashed the magic stored within them.

[Fireball]. [Lightning].

Crackle—! Boom!

Explosions erupted from her blades and engulfed the attackers in a storm of fire and electricity. Screams of agony rang out as flames consumed flesh and lightning arced between them, leaving charred bodies in her wake.

Without pausing, she moved into the middle of the group and thrust her stilettos with fitness, activating her Magic that was stored in these swords. Each thrust burned and scorched as the enchantments within the blades ensured no wound was trivial.

“Kill that blonde bitch—ARGH!!”

The cry was cut short as her twin brother intervened. With superhuman speed, he slashed two enemies into two and decapitated a third in a single fluid motion. The remaining three attackers at the rear raised their guns and aimed to take his sister down.

Thunderous booms echoed as they fired and their projectiles blazed through the air, but Aegeusia twisted her slender body mid-leap as she sensed the danger from the weapon, just barely avoiding the deadly projectile that tore a ragged hole in her cloak, but the force sent her spinning.

She landed with feline agility while her ears were ringing and vision briefly blurred by the flash of white from the weapons.

Recovering quickly, she turned her attention to a soldier who fumbled for something at his belt, a flash grenade.

Before he could throw it, her brother acted. Summoning a small, gleaming blade, he threw it with unerring accuracy. The blade struck the grenade midair, splitting it in two before continuing its lethal trajectory and embedded itself in the soldier’s throat. The man collapsed, gurgling as blood pooled around him.

Another wave of enemies arrived, this group more heavily armored and wielding those similar weapons. Aegeusia’s lips curled into a grim smile and she and her brother moved as one as their emotional bond guiding them seamlessly through the battlefield. He deflected incoming bullets with his greatsword with its edge glowing with icy blue magic, while she moved between their opponents and thrust her stilettos, stabbing each one of them with surgical precision.

“Fire the armor-piercing rocket!”

One enemy fired a projectile that left a trail of smoke toward her, but Aegeusia countered with [Mana Shield], and the translucent barrier shimmered as it absorbed the brunt of the attack that exploded upon impact. She retaliated with [Arcane Wave], which sent a shockwave of pure energy that staggered the enemy line.

Her brother slaughtered the staggered foes with a whirlwind of devastating strikes with unmatched speed and strength.

Together, they were an unstoppable force as their combined might carved through the enemy squad with brutal efficiency. As the last soldier fell, Aegeusia stood in the middle of the dead enemies with her blades dripping with blood that sizzled and turned black from the residual magic.

‘More incoming,’ her brother said through their thoughts.

She nodded and readied her stilettos as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. This battle was far from over, and their mission to protect the Fleet Commander demanded nothing less than absolute victory.

————————————————————————

Viesal was covering the rear of his section when they came to an abrupt halt. His eyes widened as he found the entire teams of Gamma-2 and Gamma-7 dead and lay slaughtered, with their blood pooling in grotesque patterns, and bodies spayed out along the narrow passageway. Standing over the carnage were two elves clad in ornate crimson armor with their weapons gleaming ominously in the dim light.

"CONTACT!" a squadmate shouted and dropped into a crouch as his shotgun roared, spewing mithril projectiles in a cloud of shimmering death.

The others followed suit, taking up firing positions as the confined passageway immediately descended into chaos when Gamma-1, Gamma-4, Gamma-5, and Gamma-7 engaged the two elves.

Unsurprisingly, the two elves stood their ground with strong magical shields that flared to life in a dazzling rainbow hue and absorbed the barrage of gunfire. But to their surprise, instead of retreating, the two elves charged forward with unrelenting ferocity.

One soldier near the front screamed in pain as he raised his shotgun to block a downward slash from the shiny blade in one of the elves’ hands. The weapon snapped, and a severed hand flew through the air, painting the walls with blood.

The passageway, barely wide enough for three men to walk side by side, turned into a brutal melee as the elves closed the distance. Assault rifles were abandoned for sword bayonets, and the clash of steel echoed through the corridor as the men huffed and grunted in the fight.

Viesal dropped his LMG and drew his combat knife made out of mithril in one hand and a bayonet in the other before wading into the melee. Despite the mithril armor augmenting their strength, the soldiers struggled to contain the elves, who moved with inhuman speed and precision. In the chaos, two more men fell as their cries were cut short by the elves’ blades.

Both sides glared at each other, twenty-five on Viesal’s side and two on the enemy. Viesal noticed that despite their heavy breathing, the elves did not suffer any wounds.

“Grab the wounded!" Viesal hissed urgently as he noted the section sergeant was among the downed ones, who was holding a gaping wound in his abdomen. "I’ll hold them back! GO!"

With a defiant war cry, Viesal leaped forward and slammed his combat knife against one elf’s twin blades. His exosuit whined under the strain as he matched their slashes and stabs, using his bulk to block and push them back.

His furious assault bought precious seconds for his squadmates to drag the wounded away.

After several clashes of steel, both sides stepped back and reassessed their opponents. Viesal had several burnt and dented damages on his armor located in his arms and legs by the magic attack from one of the elves who used some twin blades that could shot out magic attacks, but the adamantite armor suit is durable enough to withstand attacks that could slice steel effortlessly, but the pain that remained made Viesal grit his teeth with pain and anger.

The two elves in crimson armor suddenly moved together, one sought to tangle with Viesal while the other went in for the kill. Viesal could only roar out in anger and use all his strength with the help of his exosuit, slamming his blades down, forcing the elf that faced him to drop back while Viesal suddenly threw a side kick at the other that tried a sneak attack.

Suddenly, a ball of fire and lightning both erupted from the feminine elf's blades and impacted against him at once. Grunting in pain, he hobbled out of reach of their blades when suddenly a yelled call out from behind.

"CAPTAIN! GET DOWN!"

Quickly, he dropped prone just as his returning section mates opened fire at the two elves in crimson armor whose magical shields started flickering wildly again. The two elves dodged as much as they could and unleashed their Skills and Magic, receiving cries of pain from the soldiers.

Viesal rolled to his side and drew out a giant Pistol and snapped off all five shots at the closest elf who was barely even three meters away.

The elf with the pretty blue eyes and star-like pupils couldn't react in time before he jerked as his enchanted mithril armor and magic shields were unable to withstand the punishing 25mm rocket-propelled rounds from the giant pistol, sending him crashing on his back.

The female elf’s eyes, a haunting pinkish-purple, locked onto his, her face twisting in rage. The loss of her brother, whose body lay crumpled nearby, severed their emotional connection and filled her with an overwhelming emptiness.

With this terrible feeling of loss, she screamed in her heart and glared at the lesser being who killed her brother.

[Greater Ability Boost]. [Flow Acceleration]. [Greater Evasion]. [Invulnerable Fortress]. [Pace of the Wind].

As she activated a flurry of spells in quick succession, her speed and agility became almost supernatural, and she leaped toward Viesal like a crimson blur, effortlessly avoiding and ignoring the rest of the enemy with their gunfire as her only intention was to get justice for her fallen brother.

Despite his injuries, Viesal reacted instinctively by rolling to the side like some slimy snake as she thrust her twin blades, their magic infused edges crackling ominously that carved through the air where he had been.

The constant gunfire from his section depleted her magical barrier, and even when it finally crumbled, she ignored it and followed up on her missed attack by thrusting her twin blades stilettos straight for the back of the neck of the armored human.

To her surprise, Viesal twisted and raised a tube-like weapon as she lunged for his exposed neck. The pitch dark interior of the weapon seemed to be infinite and swallow the light around it until the armored man yelled out something, and the tube flared into eye searing brightness.

"FUCK YOU!" he roared as he pumped the arcane shotgun and firing point-blank, spitting out a red shell and shoved the muzzle up at the face of the elf, and squeezed the trigger. The loud boom that followed was the most satisfying noise Viesal has ever heard.

The explosion of fire magic and shrapnel tore through the elf’s face, and her mask disintegrated in a spray of blood and brain matter. She collapsed, and her once-graceful form now lifeless and crumpled on the ground.

Breathing heavily, Viesal dropped the smoking shotgun and slumped onto his back as his adrenaline wore off. His armor doesn't seem to be damaged from the harrowing fight, but the burns and cuts seared his flesh as each movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body.

As his remaining squadmates rushed to drag him to safety, Viesal muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ow... this fucking hurts... If only this world was just typical medieval shit… that would’ve been easier."

————————————————————————

Deep within the Ironclad Leviathan, another team named Gamma-3 were crawling and making their way through the ventilation shafts without any idea where they were heading.

The narrow suffocating confines pressed down on them like a vice as the echo of their boots muffled against the metal. They had no map, no guidance, only the vague hope that their path would lead somewhere useful.

As they walked, they could hear gunfire rumbling in the distance. The team captain pressed a finger to his comms unit, listening intently to the chatter.

"Gamma-2 and Gamma-7 are confirmed to be wiped out," came the grim report. "Fortunately, Gamma-1, Gamma-4, Gamma-5, and Gamma-6 neutralized the threats, but casualties were high."

"That is great news," muttered one soldier with a bitter laugh. "If their best warriors are getting wiped, these knife-ears are well and truly screwed now."

"Yeah? Weren’t they screwed the moment we landed?" another replied as he adjusted his grip on his rifle. "Fourteen heavily armed and trained men taking on a few elves, and they’re still cutting through them like wet paper."

"That’s why I’d rather have a whole company of Marines backing us up," a third soldier chimed in. "Better to have more guns and—"

Suddenly, the shaft quaked violently and a deafening shockwave slammed into them, nearly knocking the men flat. Metal groaned and screeched, and dust rained down from above, but the soldiers already braced themselves, narrowly avoiding a collapse.

"Sounds like one of our demo charges," the captain noted grimly. "Timed perfectly, as always. Let’s keep moving. We’ve gone far enough, frontman, move your ass forward and get a breaching charge ready."

"On it!" the lead soldier replied and crawled ahead roughly twenty meters away from the rest of the group.

Along the way, he tapped the walls with the butt of his revolver and listened for the telltale hollow sound. Finally, he found the right spot and slapped the sticky pads of the breaching charge against the metal and quickly back to a safe distance.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted and retreated quickly as he squeezed the trigger of the detonator.

A muted thud reverberated through the shaft, followed by the tortured scream of metal tearing apart. The men were shaken again by a shock wave and once everything settled down, the soldier in front moved forward again to check the jagged opening, finding a darkened passageway beneath the hole made by the breaching charge.

“We’ve got an exit!" he called back. waited for the rest to join him.

The captain gave him a nod, and the team followed. One by one, they dropped into the hangar below with their boots clanged hard against the metal floor. The drop down was not too much, just roughly three meters.

"We are in some empty room." He reported as he did a 360 degree sweep of the area with his rifle. "All clear!"

One by one the Gamma-3 operatives made their way down and they all let out a sigh of relief as the air was cooler and not as stuffy compared to the insides of the pipe. But as they took a breather, they barely had time to regroup when a hatch across the hangar opened.

A group of four entered, all dressed in immaculate uniforms that practically screamed privilege. Each carried a large case as their hurried steps leading them to a raised platform ringed with glowing jewel-encrusted pillars.

"Looks like a teleportation setup," one soldier whispered, observing the rising hum of magic as the platform activated.

"Could be their escape plan," the captain replied as his eyes narrowed. "We can’t let them leave.”

"So we ambush them?" One of his squadmates gave a nasty smile.

"We ambush them," the Captain grinned back. “We split into two teams. Left flank, you’re with me. Right flank, circle around. Quietly."

The squad gave a nod of acknowledgement and split into two groups, creeping toward the platform with weapons drawn, while the captain led his men to the other side, making sure to keep as quiet as possible even though the hum of the Leviathan’s machinery masked their approach as they closed in.

Just as they reached their positions, they ducked in cover when suddenly a young elf in a crimson uniform stepped forward and scanned the hangar nervously.

"Hold positions," the captain whispered into his comms and observed the behaviour of the young elf in a form fitting red uniform and was certain he was waiting for someone.

They did not have long to wait when another hatch swung open, and a larger group of elves entered. Over a dozen, led by a figure who radiated authority with every step.

The captain’s grip tightened on his rifle as he watched the leader, a tall, imposing elf with an air of command and a gleaming longsword strapped to his side.

"This is our moment," the captain hissed as he signaled his squadmates. "On my mark, we light them up.”

Tension coiled in the air like a spring as every soldier was primed for the inevitable clash. The elves, oblivious to their observers, began positioning themselves around the platform, and the faint glow of mana intensified as the magic stones activated, casting an eerie light over the hangar.

A series of clicks answered the captain’s comms. “Second units, disable the magic cores. Everyone else, engage the enemy... NOW!”

At his command, six of his squadmates popped out from cover, and their suppressed rifles released single aimed shots. Each shot found its mark and slammed into the unsuspecting elves.

The young elf who had been visibly relieved by the arrival of his allies froze in shock until a single perfectly aimed mithril bullet drilled a hole through his ear and exited cleanly through the opposite side of his head, which instantly caused his lifeless body to flop down to the ground.

More suppressed gunfire rained on the group of newcomers. Four elves, including one clad in the distinctive crimson armor, fell before the remaining three scrambled to raise a magical barrier and clustered around the high-ranking elf in protective stances.

Meanwhile, sparks and magical energy spewed from the ironclad's engines as Gamma-3 redirected their firepower to sabotage the cores. The engines sputtered violently before the squad switched their aim back to the disoriented enemy.

The elves retreated to cover as their formation fractured, while two crimson-armored soldiers split off, moving with alarming speed with one closing in on the captain’s position, while the other flanked the opposing squad. The remaining red-armored guards stayed back and shielded the high-ranking elf, who seemed entirely focused on an unseen objective.

Under the heavy suppressing fire, the remainder of the enemy could only hunker down behind cover while the two red armored elves tried to get within melee range.

“Flash them!” the captain yelled to his men.

Seconds later, a couple of flashbangs flew overhead and detonated with ear-shattering cracks and a blinding flash. The startled cries of the elves confirmed their disarray, and without waiting for orders, Gamma-3 pushed forward and exploited the chaos.

From behind the platform, a crimson-armored elf suddenly charged out with startling agility with glowing twin blades in each hand. He lunged at the nearest operative and sliced through his armor with a burst of sparks. The soldier let out a startled cry and threw himself backwards as he raised his suppressed rifle.

He fired, emptying his magazine into the elf at point-blank range. The elf was shocked that his blades did no damage before he staggered as his magic shields flickered wildly and failed under the barrage of concentrated fire from the rest of the team.

The red-armored elf tried to retreat, but before he could, the magic shields were depleted and flickered out, allowing the mithril rounds perforated his body and sent him into a short death dance.

A loud crack of lightning split the air, followed by the sharp smell of ozone. Another red-armored elf reeled as a lightning magic round struck him squarely and threw him against the platform’s edge. Gamma-3 concentrated their fire, riddling him with bullets until he lay motionless in a pool of his own blood.

As the team advanced, they came upon the high-ranking elf. He stood over the bodies of several his own men, calmly wiping blood from a gleaming longsword. With an air of detached arrogance, he casually let the blood-stained handkerchief drop to the floor and turned to face the squad.

He stood in a relaxed pose and gestured to the five remaining soldiers in a provocative manner as if daring them to come.

“I’m not surprised you made it this far. Your people think themselves invincible. Yet my fleet destroyed one of your ships.”

Though surrounded by seven AF-2 “Magespitters,” rifles designed to annihilate even the strongest magical barriers, he exuded a chilling aura of confidence.

The captain frowned as his instincts were telling him that this was a dangerous opponent. For some reason, this elf had killed his own people and was now challenging them to a fight.

His suspicions were confirmed as he glanced at his Mana-Monitoring device.

[Magicule Levels: 13,484]

“Transcendent!” he hissed. “Switch to tasers! Flash him! Do not engage up close, he’s too dangerous!”

Those armed with tasers dropped their rifles down on their slings and whipped out their stubby shock pistols. With muted bursts of compressed air, darts holding a concentrated electrical charge shot out and flew towards the elf, who seemed to slightly vanish from his spot as he dodged the taser darts.

But before they could connect, he blurred and vanished from his position in a flicker of motion.

Flashbangs tossed out from the rest and bounced across the metal floor before bursting into a bright light and an ear-shattering roar that boxed the elf in as he tried to evade the attacks. The sonic and blinding attacks managed to disorientate him for a moment as his shields sputter and flickered wildly caused by the taser darts dumping all their energy out and exploding against them when they hit his shields.

Before Gamma-3 could press their advantage, another crimson-armored elf appeared from the shadows. With his twin blades crackling with magical energy, he cut down an operative in a flash, and the soldier’s cry of pain caused the rest of the squad to switch their attention over to the new threat.

“Goddamn it!” the captain growled as he watched the red-armored elf engage his team in melee. “It’s a diversion!”

————————————————————————

Sephral was surprised when a group of enemies suddenly appeared without warning inside the teleportation evacuation room. He was more amazed at their otherworldly muskets that could shoot faster and further than anything he knew existed in the Third Civilization Zone. Within seconds of the ambush, almost half his party was down in their own pool of blood.

The Crimson Guardians stepped in and activated their magic shields, which flickered madly under the insane rate of fire of the enemies’ weapons. Sephral frowned as he ducked behind a large stack of crates thinking hard about the abilities of the enemy. He knew he had underestimated them greatly but he still could not understand why this particular group was so powerful.

"Why did they not take control of the entire Third Civilization Zone sooner if they had such weapons?" Sephral stood there wondering without a care of what was happening around him. "How peculiar..."

"Fleet Commander!" a panicked voice broke through his thoughts as one of his aides stumbled towards him. "The-They disabled the magic cores powering for the teleportation evacuation platform!"

"We... we can't escape any more!" Another whimpered in fear.

Sephral threw a glance of disdain as he watched his aides cower. Without warning, he drew his blade from his Spatial Ring, and a single fluid motion ended their lives, leaving their shocked expressions frozen in death.

“Cowards,” he spat and wiped the blade clean on his sleeve. “Your fear is a contagion. Better to die now than drag the rest of us down.”

Turning to the Crimson Guardians, he barked, “Go around and attack them from the side. I shall distract the enemy!”

The Crimson Guardian member gave a curt bow and slipped into the shadows.

Sephral inhaled deeply, steadying himself as he took out a handkerchief and started to wipe off the blood on his blade.

As he wiped his blade clean, he emerged from behind the crates and found half a dozen enemies turned their strangely powerful weapons pointing at him,

He studied the intricate craftsmanship of these muskets held by these people with great interest, noting the black-and-red markings on their compact designs. They were unlike anything he’d encountered.

He watched as one of them yelled something and two of the soldiers in their full black attire holstered their muskets down and switched to smaller firearms.

As they raised their weapons, Sephral whispered…

“[Mental Acceleration].”

Time slowed, and the world around him became a tableau of deliberate motion as Sephral cast more spells that could increase his speed and precision.

With that, he could see every single detail of the two enemies from their gloves to the black and yellow rectangular muzzle that was slowly rising up as everything seemed to move in slow motion. A puff of smoke erupted out from the tiny musket’s muzzle and a black blurry dart spat out towards Sephral as he stared directly at it.

Calculating their trajectory, he took a step to dodge the darts flying towards him and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rest of the enemy were digging out something from their vests. The two darts buzzed past him and flew off somewhere.

He next stepped away from the black canisters that the enemy tossed at him. However, his instincts screamed a warning, but before he could react, the canisters suddenly erupted in a blinding flash and a loud crack that left his ears ringing loudly.

For a moment he was confused and blinded by the attacks and he felt his magic shield taking damage. Sephral could only stumble blindly backwards while he cast a recovery spell that managed to help clear his blindness and ringing in his ears.

As his senses returned, he glimpsed his last remaining Guardian had engaged the enemy, drawing at least half their attention away from him.

Seizing the opportunity, Sephral raised his longsword and its edge alight with crackling fire. With a powerful slash, he unleashed a wave of flames that launched forward and engulfed the nearest enemies. They were thrown back as their cries drowned out by the roar of the inferno.

Rushing forward and dodging through a hail of gunfire, he closed the distance rapidly in a blur of motion. With a quick gesture, he unleashed another fire spell that sent an enemy flying backward, then gripped his blade with both hands and brought it crashing down on the next adversary.

The soldier raised his weapon horizontally to block his blade, but Sephral’s bloodthirsty grin widened as he chanted.

“[Maximize Magic: Wind Slash]!”

His blade glowed blue for a split second before a sharp hiss of slicing wind erupted from its edge. The razor sharp slash of wind split the weapon in the soldier’s hands and the spell’s force continued vertically down to dump its remaining power to cleave through the armor and body of the soldier, who's mouth formed a surprised ‘O’ as blood sprayed from the lethal wound.

“Shit!” one of the Gamma-3 operatives swore as he saw one of his squadmates being flung off his feet by the elf’s devastating attack. The elf's movements were very fast and the next thing he knew, the elf was in front of him and his blade was already descending toward him.

In reflex, the operative raised his rifle to block the chop, but to his shock, he saw the elf’s blade glowed again.

“Oh, fuck...” he muttered just before the gust of sharp wind-enhanced slash sliced through his assault rifle and armor, sending him tumbling back.

The force and sharpness of the wind spell split the mithril plating on his helmet and chest apart, and blood gushed from a deep wound across his face. The soldier laid on his back, gasping for air as the spell had also knocked the air out of his lungs.

"F…fucker..." he half blinded from the blood on his face, gasped as he drew his pistol out and took aim at the elf that stood arrogantly before him.

With shaking hands, he fired his pistol wildly, missing most of his shots but managing to force the elf to retreat momentarily as he dodged the shots.

“You bastard!” he growled through clenched teeth.

Two more soldiers advanced with their weapons up and firing as they attempted to corner the elf, but Sephral moved like a shadow and nimbly evaded their bullets with an almost effortless grace.

Meanwhile, two other operatives rushed forward and they each grabbed two of their injured comrades by their harness and dragged them to cover.

“Slippery motherfucker!” another operative cursed as he slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle and resumed fire at the dodging elf. “Bastard just won’t stay still!”

“Box him in!” the captain ordered as he noted that the remaining team members had subdued the last red-armored elf. “Engage from range and deplete his shields! Maintain distance!”

The team’s medic knelt beside the injured and quickly assessed their conditions. He unfastened one soldier’s armored vest, revealing that the mithril trauma plate had absorbed most of the magic attack’s force, leaving only a big nasty bruise. The medic retrieved a healing potion from his Spatial Ring and poured it over the soldier’s chest.

“Looks like you’ve got a few broken ribs. Stay put and let the meds do their job. I’ll check on the others,” the medic said curtly.

The soldier grunted weakly in acknowledgement as he laid back on the floor, his breathing laboured. The magic blast from the enemy was surprisingly powerful. If it wasn't for the reinforced steel plating, strips of mithril inserts and tough spider silk, the magic attack would have punched through his chest and sliced him in half.

Nearby, another injured operative winced as the medic poured healing potions over a deep gash that stretched from his collarbone to his cheekbone, most of the force of the spell had depleted itself against the mithril inserts within the trauma plating. In a few moments, the wound sealed quickly, leaving only a pale scar.

“Now you look like a half-breed,” the medic quipped with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” the soldier wheezed as he raised a middle finger at the medic's teasing before muttering darkly, “When I get my hands on that bastard...”

“Not so fast,” the medic snapped as he jabbed a syringe of painkillers into the soldier’s thigh. “Stay down and let the meds take effect before you start moving again.”

"Grrr..." The soldier growled under his breath but complied and wiped the blood from his face. “Motherfucker...”

————————————————————————

Sephral gritted his teeth as his shield flickered under the enemy’s attacks and felt its energy rapidly draining. When his magical barrier finally shattered, he moved behind a stack of crates with heavy breaths.

Reaching into a pouch, he retrieved a magic potion and drank deeply, feeling the liquid’s potent energy surging through him. Moments later, his body began to glow faintly as the mana from the potion was absorbed into his spell formations.

“[Greater Ability Boost]!” he intoned, replenishing his depleted reserves. Without pause, he cast again. “[Warrior’s Heart!]”

Layer after layer of enchantments enveloped him, fortifying his body and spirit. As the spells’ effects settled, Sephral stepped out from cover with a stance that radiated confidence.

“Come! You bastards!” he laughed, not caring if they understood him or not. “I am Fleet Commander Sephral Trett, and I have come to render judgment!”

The enemy responded with a deafening volley from their maddening powerful muskets, but Sephral dodged and weaved through the storm of gunfire with preternatural agility, and his magic sword flashed as he returned fire with magic spells.

Black canisters bounced toward him, their ominous presence impossible to ignore. He turned away just as they erupted in blinding flashes and deafening cracks, but their disorienting effects still managed to slow him despite his enhanced reflexes.

Even with his magical enhanced abilities, Sephral found himself at a disadvantage. The enemy’s strategy was infuriatingly effective as they shamelessly maintained their distance and used their overpowered weapons to chip away at his magic defenses.

His magic shields faltered again, forcing him to down another handful of potions to restore his mana. He glanced toward the open hatch on the far side of the hangar. The teleportation platform was no longer an option as the enemy had destroyed the magic cores that powered the magic artifact, but the troop carrier ships offered a slim chance of escape.

Sephral had already made up his mind. He knew he was outnumbered, outgunned, and his options were dwindling. If he wanted to survive, he needed a distraction. He needed more bodies to draw the enemy’s fire.

Dusting off his hands, Sephral stepped out once more with determination on his face. With a sharp gesture, he tossed a powerful spell.

“[Fist of Aggression]!”

A sphere of magical energy flew across the chamber and detonated on impact with a massive shockwave that sent enemies sprawling. Cries of pain could be heard in the aftermath as the spell overwhelmed their mithril-enhanced resistance.

Using the remaining of his mana, Sephral cast the spell again, and the second blast scattered his adversaries further.

Taking the opportunity, he sprinted toward the chamber's exit with every ounce of speed he could muster. His boots pounded against the floor as he aimed to regroup and find reinforcements, or someone capable of enabling his escape.

The powerful shockwaves rippled through the chamber and tossed the enemy like rag dolls. Those too close to the epicenter screamed in pain and agony as the spell overwhelmed their magical defenses granted from the mithril in their armor.

The captain, disoriented but tenacious, spotted the elf making a sprint for the exit. He shouted commands to his team, but another spell knocked him off his feet, and by the time he regained his footing, the prey was gone.

————————————————————————

Viesal drank a can of beer, savoring the brief moment of respite before slipping it back into his Spatial Ring.

“Ahh... I’m healed!” he declared with a grin.

The medic rolled his eyes. “You lost some blood, but thanks to the hercules exosuit, your injuries aren’t serious. You’re more than ready to get back in the fight.”

“Thanks, doc.” Viesal’s grin widened as he prepared to rejoin the fight. However, his smile faltered as he glanced around the cabin until his gaze settled on a makeshift aid station where several bodies were laid out on ponchos and stretchers. “How about my guys?” he asked quietly.

The medic didn’t look up as he secured the bandage on Viesal’s thigh. “Danner lost his right hand. With a top-grade healing potion, we might be able to regrow it, but he’ll have some loss of function, hopefully…” The medic paused for a moment before sighing and said in a low voice. “Potae… has gone to the gates of heaven. And Ben's in critical condition. It’s a coin toss whether they pull through.”

He sighed, his hands trembling slightly as he clenched them into fists. “Those elves are fucking cruel. The stabs and cuts are bad enough, but their magic… it cooks and burns the internal organs up from the inside.”

The medic’s voice dropped lower, heavy with anger and helplessness. “Without access to a high-level doctor, there’s nothing we can do for the critically wounded. All we can offer is… end their suffering.”

He cursed under his breath. “Even the bloody Commie Americans weren’t as cruel as these fucking knife-ears! You, you were lucky. Your wounds didn’t hit anything vital.”

Viesal exhaled slowly and rested a reassuring hand on the medic’s shoulder. “They’ll be avenged.”

With that said, he stood, wearing his Hercules exosuit, collected his weapon, and walked out of the cabin. The guards outside nodded and helpfully pointed the way to the distant sounds of gunfire.

Viesal returned the gesture, his bloodlust lust up as he pressed forward. The sounds of battle grew louder with every step, and the passageway became littered with the bodies of red-armored foes. The closer he got to the front lines, the heavier the air felt with the stench of death and gunpowder.

At an intersection, Viesal spotted his fellow operatives entrenched and held off an unrelenting enemy assault. One group was laying down suppressing fire at a hatchway, where bodies of the fallen were piled up like cordwood, yet there was no sign of the enemy's attack lessening as they kept attempting to rush out, heedless of their mounting losses.

After getting directions from the soldiers holding the line, Viesal pushed deeper into the ironclad, determined to find the remainder of his team. Soon, the ship’s atmosphere shifted as he ventured further, and he found himself entering an area that looked vastly different from the remainder of the ship.

Gone were the utilitarian steel bulkheads and dim lighting as in their place stood polished dark wood panels, deep crimson carpeting, and glow lamps in ornate crystal holders. Viesal was certain he had entered what they called 'officer land' as the decor was rich and beautiful, unlike the gloomy functional decks of the enlisted below.

His armored boots sank into the plush carpet and muffled his steps as he hurried toward the sounds of fighting.

Rounding a corner, he slammed into another figure. The impact barely fazed Viesal as his armor’s weight absorbed the collision, but the other person went sprawling back onto the carpet with a startled cry.

To his surprise, he spotted an elf dressed in a luxurious, long red coat, its fabric shimmering faintly in the dim light. The elf staggered from the impact, shaking his head before scrambling toward his fallen blade. Viesal's eyes locked onto the sword, and immediately recognized the cruel weapon identical to those wielded by the red-armored elves who had inflicted horrific wounds on him and his fellow man.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, fueled by rage and pain.

“You bastard!!”

Without hesitation, he stormed forward and stomped his massive combat boots down hard onto the elf's wrist with a sickening crunch. The weight of his exosuit of over 150 kilograms made a loud snap of broken bones and a piercing cry of agony erupted from the elf, who recoiled and held his shattered wrist.

But the elf wasn't finished. Through the haze of pain, he clenched his uninjured hand into a fist and punched forward, unleashing his spell [Fist of Aggression] directly into Viesal's armored chest.

BOOOMM!!

In an instant, a powerful magic shockwave burst forth, slamming into Viesal and sending him flying backward. He crashed into the bulkhead with a force that shattered the ornate wooden panels, leaving a jagged crater in his wake.

Coughing in pain and disoriented, Viesal pushed himself to his feet as his armor had resisted the worst of the attack. He got on to his feet groggily, shaking his head and waving away the smoke around him and stepped forward shakily. Waves of searing pain rippled through his body and he felt some of his old wounds reopening and turning his vision red and hazy.

But he forced himself forward, each step an act of sheer will.

As he stepped out from the smoke, he endured the pain that was threatening to shut down his body. In his red vision, he saw the cursed elf struggling to his feet while cradling his broken hand.

Viesal let out a growl of pure anger and pain as he forced himself to take one step after another forward, while his body was screaming for rest but his fury propelled him forward.

The elf seemed to sense danger and turned his head around, only for his eyes to wide in fear and shock as the elf quickly scrambled to his feet to escape but Viesal was not going to let him run away.

He hoisted his LMG up one-handedly and let the light machine gun loose.

The 8.6 mm mithril rounds spat out from the muzzle of the AFMG-1 “Magebreaker” at 500 rounds per minute at a speed travelling at 807 meters per second did not even take a second to slam into the running elf's back before he could make it more than a few steps.

In less than nine seconds, the 75-round drum magazine ran dry and the weapon lived up to its name of “Magebreaker” as the hail of bullets had shredded the elf's magical shields, reducing them to flickering remnants before they collapsed entirely.

The surrounding lavish carpet and polished wood paneling around them were totally shredded by the fierce barrage of gunfire, transforming the once-elegant corridor into a scene of chaos and destruction.

Viesal limped forward, ejecting the spent drum magazine and slapping a fresh one into place. His movements were labored, every step punctuated by pain, but his resolve remained unbroken.

Standing over the collapsed elf who had curled up with his arms protectively over his head, he observed the blood pooling beneath him. Though the elf's body bore no visible wounds beyond his broken hand, blood seeped from his mouth and chin, with the blood blending seamlessly with the elf's ornate red coat.

Without a word, Viesal raised his heavy metallic boot and brought it down on the elf’s face. The brutal impact sent the elf sprawling onto the blood-soaked carpet as his head lolled unnaturally.

Viesal, consumed by rage and exhaustion, vented his anger and pain with a series of savage kicks until the limp body no longer moved.

Finally, pain and exhaustion overtook him. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he slumped against the destroyed wooden panelled bulkheads.

Viesal sighed, thinking of how much firepower and bodies they had spent and sacrificed to try to take down this elf bastard and in the end, it just took him at the right time and place to take all the credit.

Releasing a deep sigh, he just let out a smile as he glanced at the broken elf and saw how messed up the bastard’s condition was.

"I hate mages."