Iron Crossed Realms

Intro

(A/N: I do not own any of the pictures used in this ENTIRE story, they were found on Pinterest or Google, they belong to the creators and deserve the credit. Or made with AI art.)

(A/N: I do not own the videos used in the ENTIRE story, they were found on YouTube, the creators deserve the credit)

(A/N: Also I do not own any of the series, animes or games used in this story, they belong to their respective owners and deserve the credit)

(A/N: Also the will be a lot of gore, given that WW1 was a blood bath)

The Rhine, 3rd POV

Year: 1926, 12 years since the start of the First Great War began

The grey clouded sky was bright, casting long shadows over the scarred and battered landscape of No Man's Land. The Rhine, once a symbol of life and prosperity, now marked the edge of a brutal and unforgiving front in this war. The ground was a mess of craters and barbed wire, with the remnants of trees standing like broken sentinels amid the destruction, with dead bodies littering the field.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder, the silence of the afternoon shattered by the sporadic crack of rifle fire. Thunder cracking sounds of artillery fire raining down on both sides of the battlefield, screams filled it as a small contingent of Teutonic Reich soldiers advanced cautiously, their dark, industrial armor blending into the gray landscape the trench's filled with the smell of death.

Their helmets, modified Pickelhaubes reinforced with riveted steel plating, gleamed dully in the dim light. Brass goggles covered their eyes, and dark steel masks with brass fittings and hissing steam canisters protected their faces from the harsh elements. The layered steel plates of their chest armor clinked softly as they moved, the emblem of the Teutonic Reich, a stylized iron cross with cogwheel accents, embossed on the center of their chests.

"Scheiße(shit)," the Commander said, fixing his helmet,"where the hell are those reinforcements?"

"I have called Command multiple times Kommandant(Commander)," a soldier said, wearing a communication pack on his back

"Tch great, very well, move out."

The soldiers moved with purpose, their heavy boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground, sloshing in the mud ground. Their gauntleted hands gripped their Kaiser 98 rifles tightly, fingers ready to pull the trigger at the first sign of movement. They were hardened veterans, well-versed in the deadly dance of trench warfare, but even they felt the weight of the silence that pressed in around them.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a low, mechanical growl-a sound that sent a chill down the spine of every soldier present. The ground trembled as something massive approached, the noise growing louder with each passing second. The soldiers exchanged worried glances, their hands tightening around their rifles.

From the smoke and dust emerged the hulking forms of the Gaulic Dominion soldiers. Their armor was sleek and form-fitting, a sharp contrast to the heavy plating of the Reich's troops. The Gaulic soldiers wore uniforms of deep blue, trimmed with gold, showing off their pristine nature. Their helmets were rounded, with a high-tech visor that glowed faintly, giving them an almost ethereal appearance in the twilight night.

Their armor was lighter, designed for mobility rather than sheer protection, and their chest plates bore the emblem of the Gaulic Dominion-a stylized fleur-de-lis with an intricate, swirling pattern etched in gold. They moved with a fluid grace, their rifles held with a confidence born of countless battles.

Suddenly, the low growl turned into a roar as a massive MG-12 Liberté mech emerged from the haze, its sleek, armored frame reflecting the dim light of the setting sun. The Gaulic Dominion's mech was a terrifying sight to behold. The MG-12 Liberté, with its elegant yet lethal design, was equipped with dual Fusil-30 steam powered rifles, each firing high-velocity 30mm armor-piercing rounds.