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墨書 Inktalez
The Warrior stood there, a look of pride on his face, the corners of his mouth curling up as if victory was already in his grasp. The shouts of soldiers behind him echoed across the battlefield. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, seemingly savoring the glory and fervor of the moment. He even raised a metal hand, making a small waving gesture as if conducting a grand symphony.
When he opened his eyes again, his gaze fixed intently on a man about five hundred meters away. That man stood still, unyielding, as if the rain and the battle cries around him were of no concern.
The Warrior's voice boomed, high and clear, carrying an undeniable sense of superiority. "Lanzka Hill is now back under our control at Iron Dome!" His voice pierced through the curtain of rain, reaching the distant man as if proclaiming an irrefutable fact. "And the Unwoven Nation..." He paused, his tone softening slightly but laced with biting mockery and pity. "Like a candle flickering in the wind, it is destined to be extinguished."
He took a step forward, drawing the iron rod back to his chest, his tone mixed with feigned respect. "Warriors of the Unwoven Nation, I admire your tenacity. Truly." He paused again, as if deliberately allowing the other to savor each word. "Your courage and determination are indeed impressive... but they change nothing."
A cold smile crept onto the Warrior's lips as he adjusted the shoulder plates of his armor, as if to appear more solemn. He lifted his head again, locking eyes with the man, his voice dripping with a condescending pity. "We at Iron Dome will treat you with higher standards. Yes, higher standards. We will not only provide you with a new order but also give you a meaning to your existence." His voice softened further, almost like a benevolent monarch surveying conquered subjects. "So accept all this. Accept our protection and end this meaningless resistance."
Yet the man five hundred meters away remained unmoved, silent and unresponsive. The shadow cast by his hat obscured his face, but the Warrior could feel his gaze piercing through the rain, landing squarely on him. That gaze was cold and resolute, imbued with an unsettling silent power.
The Warrior blinked, momentarily faltering in his smile before quickly regaining his confidence. He tightened his grip on the iron rod and turned to glance at the soldiers behind him as if seeking some form of support. The Iron Dome soldiers erupted into another deafening battle cry; green mist swirled in the rain like a beast ready to tear apart its prey.
The Warrior turned back to coldly regard that man again. His eyes sharpened, tinged with suppressed anger as he awaited a response—any sign of retreat would suffice—but that man remained like iron, utterly indifferent.
Standing firm in place, rainwater dripped from the edge of his hat onto the ground below. He maintained his silence like an unmoving statue. But in an instant, he stepped forward; the muddy ground beneath him made a slight sound. Though this step bore no hint of aggression, it was an undeniable provocation that shattered the oppressive atmosphere created by the Iron Dome Army.
His voice was low and calm as it cut through the sound of rain like a slow yet heavy dirge. "Lanzka Hill was once a land of peace, a land of tranquility. The fields, villages, and hills here have never seen such slaughter and destruction." He lifted his head; from beneath his hat shone eyes filled with unwavering resolve as they met those of the Warrior's—examining him like a sinner.
"If you at Iron Dome are truly powerful and worthy of pride, then return peace to the Unwoven Nation." His tone was steady, yet each word struck like a hammer against steel—unyielding and resolute. His gaze remained cold, imbued with an unshakeable belief.
Hearing this, the Warrior paused for a moment before letting out a short derisive laugh. He raised his head as if mocking the man's misplaced naivety. "Return peace to the Unwoven Nation?" he elongated his words deliberately, dripping with sarcasm. "Do you think we at Iron Dome came here to talk about peace?"
He turned to the Terminator beside him, raising an eyebrow slightly, silently conveying a message with his gaze: "It's up to you."
Ezel Moran understood the hint. A cold smile crept onto his lips as he took a step forward. The heavy metal boots he wore thudded against the ground, splashing mud everywhere with a deep, oppressive sound. His towering figure was washed by the rain, and the alloy of his cybernetic limbs glinted with a blinding cold light in the flashes of lightning. His eyes were fixed intently on the man before him, like a hungry predator locking onto its prey.
"Return peace to the Unwoven Nation?" Ezel's voice was low, tinged with a metallic tremor, each word laced with icy sarcasm. "Peace and tranquility can only exist under the control of the Iron Dome. You should feel honored that we are willing to give you the chance to kneel and surrender instead of crushing you on the spot."
As his words fell, a line of shooters behind him quickly crouched down, rain pattering against their Armored suits with crisp sounds. Their weapons hummed softly as energy surged within them, and the gun muzzles began to emit a faint green glow. Their targeting modules locked steadily onto the man, awaiting the next command.
Ezel's smile deepened as he extended a metallic arm, pointing at the man with palpable disdain in his tone. "This is your last chance. Kneel and accept the protection of the Iron Dome, or—let me show you what true tranquility means."
Amidst the rain, a floating drone glided slowly into position, hovering directly in front of the Iron Dome's main force. The drone was entirely black, its edges flickering with Dark Red light, exuding a chilling metallic aura. The projection device at its base activated, casting a massive red countdown onto the slick ground, the numbers flashing continuously as they counted down.
10...9...8...
The countdown echoed through the drone's speakers in a deep tone, blending with the sound of rain like some ominous drumbeat heralding disaster. The Iron Dome soldiers stood motionless, all eyes fixed on the flickering numbers as if they were the switch for war. Some shooters gently squeezed their triggers; the muzzles of their energy weapons flickered with faint green light, their low hum synchronized with the rhythm of the countdown.
Ezel Moran stood at the forefront of his squad, staring at the lone man standing in the rain. His smile grew more pronounced, his lips curling up to reveal the sharp contours of his metal prosthetics. An indescribable thrill surged within him, like strings long untouched resonating once more. He didn't know why, but he sensed that this man before him was anything but ordinary. His instincts told him that this would not be an easy fight—and that was precisely what he had been waiting for.
"Interesting," Ezel murmured to himself, his voice drowned out by the rain and distant buzzing sounds. He tightened his grip on the massive blade at his waist, his knuckles cracking softly. A wave of excitement surged through him like a slumbering beast finally catching a whiff of blood. "It's been too long since I've had a good fight."
3...2...1...
As the countdown entered its final seconds, the red light from the drone grew increasingly bright, its projected numbers nearly piercing through the curtain of rain.
0.
The numbers vanished in an instant, replaced by a dazzling red beam shooting from the bottom of the drone, slicing through the air and illuminating the entire battlefield. The beam swept over the heads of the Iron Dome Soldiers, sounding the horn for their assault. In the distance, the sharpshooters gripped their weapons tightly, the energy modules of their firearms emitting a sharp pulsing sound, poised for action.
Ezel gently lifted his head and glanced at the drone disappearing into the rain before refocusing his gaze on the man. He slightly tilted his body, adopting a stance ready for attack, his metal boots firmly planted in the mud. His smile became more pronounced, a flicker of fervor shining in his eyes.
"Finally, it has begun."
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