Varian's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the imposing figure of Quantum Sentinel.
The tension in the room was palpable as the generals, uncertain of the robot's intentions, awaited an explanation.
"Explain yourself!" Varian demanded, his voice a low growl. "Why does Aldred send his metallic enforcer to my command center? Are we to be prisoners in our own stronghold?"
The Quantum Sentinel's lips did not move, however, a voice came from him as if it was a pre-recorded voice of a person. "It is obvious. You are enemy. Must be kill."
"You plan to kill us? We have ruled this region for hundreds of years! You can't kill u—"
Suddenly, a spear came out of High Lord Varian's chest.
High Lord Varian's eyes widened in shock as he felt the cold metal of the spear protruding from his chest. The audible gasps of the generals filled the room, their uncertainty turning to horror at the unexpected attack.
Varian's voice, now strained, uttered, "The Tribe of Ghost will not forget this moment. My people will do everything they can to destroy you."
The metallic enforcer, devoid of emotion or explanation, withdrew the spear with a swift motion. Varian stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees. Blood stained his regal attire, and he clutched at the wound.
As Varian coughed up blood, Quantum Sentinel remained impassive, its glowing eyes reflecting no remorse. The generals, frozen in shock, glanced at each other, their once-secure stronghold now plunged into chaos.
"Murderer!" one of the generals shouted, drawing his weapon.
But before any retaliatory action could be taken, Quantum Sentinel's form flickered, and it vanished from sight, leaving the generals in disarray. The sudden attack had caught them off guard, and the room descended into chaos.
Varian, weakened and on the brink of collapse, struggled to maintain his composure. He clenched his teeth, the pain coursing through his body, and his eyes darted around the room, searching for Quantum Sentinel's next move.
The once-command center, now a scene of carnage, echoed with the groans and gasps of the dying generals. Quantum Sentinel reappeared, its metallic form unscathed, and surveyed the aftermath of its deadly assault.
High Lord Varian, weakened and humbled, glared at the robotic enforcer from his position on the cold floor. "What madness is this. You killed all of my most powerful generals! Who are you?"
Quantum Sentinel's cold mechanical voice resonated through the room. "Aldred has deemed the leaders of the Tribe of Ghost as obstacles to cooperation. Their removal was deemed necessary for the greater good."
"Who the fuck is this Aldred? I never heard of him before."
"Then you should have heard of me."
Coming from the front door, Zarael revealed herself as she glared at Varian.
"You! You dirty bitch! I gave you mercy by sparing your life and this is how you repay my kindness?"
"Yes. You should've killed me along with my brother that day. Now, let me repay my kindness."
Lord Varian glared at her as Zarael picked his head before she hovered a knife around his neck.
"Any last word?"
Varian spat on her face. "Filthy bitc—"
Zarael decapitated him.
"The word limit is one," Zarael said before throwing the head away.
She then stood up and walked to the door. "Our job here is done. Without the command centers, their forces will be in disarray. The best they can do is send small attacks periodically. However, that won't be any problem as we will destroy them before they can even do that."
The grand cosmic battle in a small galactic region continued.
Meanwhile, Vortimer was receiving and processing countless data in his head. His brain was an extremely powerful super-computer int itself, designed to perform billions of programs at once, it was why he was able to do so many things at once.
However, he still marveled for what Aldred had done.
If Vortimer wanted to conquer the Xantis Expanse, he would do it in a more traditional way, attacking the region with a more advanced technology and army. With his might, he will sooner or later gain control, however, it will still take him a few years for him to control the entire region and cleanse the guerrilla forces.
But Aldred had an idea that he never thought about before. Putting their army right inside the enemy's nest without them realizing and then activate them when the time was right.
"Such genius," Vortimer commented. "Not only he has incredible magic power, but he is also a man of strategy that understand the sophisticated complexity of warfare. Who is he really? Why did I never heard of him before?"
Aldred's existence was still a complete mystery to him.
He was an ancient robot that had lived since the age when humans were still a small force in the galaxy.
"I hope I don't ever clash with him. And if I do, I better be extremely careful."
…
At a certain planet called Lumarian Prime, Francus Hendry heavily breathed in and out as he put down his overheated cannon.
Francus Hendry wiped sweat from his forehead, his eyes scanning the aftermath of the fierce battle. The once serene landscape had transformed into a battleground strewn with debris, scorch marks, and the remnants of both Celestial Platoon and Tribe of Ghost forces.
He looked around the battlefield and saw the old man that fired the first shot to be lying on the floor with a wide smile on his face.
Francus approached the old man who lay on the ground surrounded by the remnants of the battle. "Old man, you sure know how to lead a charge."
The old man, who had initiated the first shot, lay on the ground with a satisfied smile on his face. Hendry approached him cautiously, his cannon still in hand but now powered down. The air crackled with residual energy from the recent clashes, and the distant sounds of ongoing skirmishes echoed through the alien terrain.
"Old man," Hendry called out, "you seem to be enjoying yourself."
The old man chuckled, his eyes reflecting a lifetime of experiences. "A good fight is the spice of life, my young friend. Name's Grigor. Grigor Kaldur."
"Hendry. Francus Hendry. We've made quite a mess here, haven't we?"
"That's the way of war, son. Chaos and creation dancing together. Now, tell me, how did you end up with the Celestial Platoon?" The old man stood up and sat on a rubble. He grabbed a metal box of cigarettes and blew a puff of smoke.
