In a world teetering on the brink of collapse, the Hannoria Empire has plunged the earth into an abyss of oppression and chaos. The Global Security Coalition (GSC) emerges as the sole beacon of resistance against this ruthless tyranny. Amidst war an...
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Petrfied, like a cornered rabbit, he observed the landscape that just a few days ago had been a haven of greenery and fresh air, now reduced to smoke, pools of blood, and mud. In his trembling hand, he held a loaded Bloodfire, ready to confront the humanoid entity that had decimated his comrades. His face paled at the horror surrounding him, while the monster approached with a macabre smile, its teeth still stained with shreds of flesh and cloth. All that remained were the gnawed bones of five thousand soldiers and a pungent scent of filth and blood.
August 3, 1930, New Alberta, Mifdak (Presidential Military Complex: Petrov).
The majestic structure of the Petrov complex housed more than seven hundred armed men, who guarded the facilities with devotion. The higher-ups strode confidently towards the presidential office, their faces reflecting the tension of the moment. The doors creaked open, revealing Dictator Voznikov, the supreme leader of Mifdak, whose gaze conveyed the desperation of the moment. The superiors, with a bow, greeted their leader.
"Take a seat," ordered Voznikov.
Under the prevailing silence in the room, tension hung thick in the air. Ears were attuned to the Dictator's words, while glances intermingled, each expressing a mix of fear, uncertainty, and determination. The air was laden with the imminent threat of a new conflict.
"As you know, the empire has extended its influence throughout the northwest of the continent. Our islands, Venturia and Solara, have fallen under their control, and we've lost all contact with Captain Velázquez for two weeks now. It's only a matter of time before their ships and tanks overrun our defense lines. I fear we must act swiftly, even if it means facing a genocide unlike any seen in the past ten years."
The looks of those present spoke volumes: fear, anguish, hopelessness. Others muttered words of anger, vengeance, and death. Who would speak up in this situation? Voznikov awaited a response befitting the challenge they faced, and at that moment, one of the superiors decided to speak.
"Sir, I understand your concern, but Mifdak is not prepared for a war of this magnitude. It would be reckless to attempt to reclaim the islands. The empire has changed since the last time, and you know it better than anyone."
The man's voice resonated with arrogance, and Voznikov's ego urged him to react as he always did. Without hesitation, he brandished his weapon and aimed directly at the ambassador's forehead.
"If you're going to speak, let it be to propose solutions, not to pose more problems."
Before he could pull the trigger, a hoarse cough interrupted his rage. Colonel Lung, a wise and calm man who knew his Dictator's temperament well, decided to intervene to calm things down.
"General Voznikov, we must be aware of the empire's superiority. Their technology is truly incomprehensible. However, at this table sit the most valuable men of Mifdak, who have dedicated their lives to serving their government. I understand your desperation, but this meeting has barely begun."
