First Light of a New Age

Chapter 157: Operation Echo Needle

Third Civilization Zone, Austronesia People’s Zone, Imperial Maharlika, Manila, Fort Malaya, Outside Manila.

4th Year of God, Monday, 1st Week, 8th Month of Solomon.

The tropical heat beat down on the rooftop of Fort Malaya, but no one among the gathered personnel paid it any mind. These were warriors, seasoned, hardened, and long used to discomfort.

The clouds above were pushed aside by the hovering forms of the massive V-45 Peacemakers, Austronesia’s most advanced multi-role next-generation combat aircraft, shaped like dagger-like fortresses in the sky with stealth orichulcum plating, mana-enhanced guns, and Dragonite Crystal fusion-powered engines that rumbled like an approaching storm.

On the rooftop landing pad, deck crews were moving between refueling drones and ordinance handlers, while officers stood in rigid lines awaiting final deployment orders.

At the center of it all stood Omega-141, the Tempest Scions, assembled in full force.

Their presence alone made the rooftop feel ten degrees colder.

They were even joined by their latest companion, Dr. Chloris Vardalos, the empire’s infamous dryad-scientist, and sister to Belinski. She was unlike the soldiers, not built for war but no less dangerous.

Dressed in a tight green exo-lab suit that is designed more for flexibility and biological manipulation than for armor, and scarlet vines slithering from her back and shoulders like curious tendrils, she stood confident, if slightly distant as her mind was undoubtedly working through a thousand calculations.

Though slightly detached in demeanor, her presence brought a certain eerie comfort like having nature itself on their side.

Then, a synchronized stomp echoed across the metal rooftop as a squad of cybernetic soldiers marched across the rooftop with their gleaming armor reflecting the noon sun.

Each member of the Archangel Unit was a walking weapon, equipped with state-of-the-art cybernetic enhancements, advanced weapons, and eyes that glowed faint red from integrated neural-augmentation systems.

Among them, leading them the group, was Captain General John Von Stroheim, a living monument of the Empire's militarization program.

Towering at nearly seven feet tall, he looked like a bronze statue come to life. His blonde hair was slicked back with military precision, and his face, chiseled like an ancient sculpture, wore the expression of a man who’d never known fear.

His piercing blue eyes locked on Riley, and with mechanical precision, he marched forward toward Riley, who stood with arms crossed, flanked by Mason.

They were polar opposites with Stroheim being polished, proud, and built like a tank while Riley was rugged, calm, and methodical.

“Captain Simon Riley,” Stroheim said deeply. “I’ve read your dossier. You are either a tactical genius or a madman.”

Riley smirked faintly without unfolding his arms. “Bit of both,” he replied, “depends on how bad the odds are.”

Stroheim grinned. “Excellent. I prefer working with madmen. We’ll get along just fine.”

With pleasantries aside, Riley turned back to face the assembled team.

“Alright, eyes on me,” he said firmly. “Here’s the situation.”

The rooftop fell silent except for the distant sound of engines and the chirping of cicadas in the jungle far below.

“We’ve identified three priority zones. All of them were former Austronesian Intelligence sites of our spy networks embedded deep inside the North American Empire. We lost all contact with them after we got transported to this world. According to recovered blackbox data, they stayed behind for five years now.”