Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided
Chapter 167. I Come, I Conquer

Onboard the Santose V Battlecruiser.

Rhok Wagner, the Platinum Knight and leader of the Umbral, stood on a metal platform high above the battalion of knights in their crisp formation. A few metres to his side stood his second-in-command, Admiral Quin Fenner. Her hands were clasped behind her back in a regal posture.

Rhok wore his sleek, dark armour and cape, which was a stark contrast to Quin, who was often draped in chrome armour. Quin’s helmet bore the trademark painted owl’s eyes over her visor as a proud display of her Wildren heritage.

The mechanical helmet receded into the back of Rhok’s personal armour, revealing his striking features and the eyes of an apex predator. Despite his years of service, his skin retained only a few coarse wrinkles. His brown hair was cut high and tight, and his jawline was sharp and clean-shaven.

“I thank you for the successful conquest of the nation of Tabit!” Rhok bellowed, raising his hands high. His subordinates saluted with a collective grunt, their movements in perfect harmony. Inside the massive Armatus hangar, hundreds of Armatus knights, Gold, Silver, Bronze, and Copper, rallied for his decisive war campaign in the name of glory.

Rhok curled his hand into a fist theatrically. “Months have passed since the fall of our Astral Empress. Her empire, our empire, has fractured into factions. How quickly the treacherous nations that served us turned their backs on us! The root of weakness always condemns our homelands to fall. Their inadequacy wronged us while we fought on the front lines. We bled for them. Still, their sovereignty was short-lived.”

He paused, scanning the crowd, their faces filled with determination. “We have come, and we have conquered. No longer shall we grant them power or authority.”

His hands gripped the guard rail, clenching in anticipation and exuding an air of absolute control. “This is our way of power, the way of the Umbral! We will unite!” he shouted, his voice echoing like a divine decree.

Like a giant waterfall of fabric, the Dunkelheit flags, black in their background colour, rolled down from his platform.

“WE WILL UNITE!” the knights roared in a cacophony of sound, united under one ideal.

Rhok turned and strode towards Admiral Quin, his gloved fingers brushing against the cold rails, his ultra-high heat-resistant cape billowing behind him. “Please, Admiral.” He gave her a signal, and she tapped the console on her arm guard.

Soon, massive HUD screens appeared on either side, depicting a map of the world. Red crosses marked multiple nations on the northern region of the Orien continent, which Rhok had conquered in recent memory, including the nation of Tabit.

“They were once part of our great Empire. Now we are the hammer of truth, we are their reckoning! Neindrill, South Akzu, Bengin, Kustan, Bakiz, and Tabit!” he listed, and the crowd boomed in glory. Rhok tilted his head back, the bright spotlight shining on his face and casting shadows in his eye sockets. “Tonight, it is time for a feast. Rest well, my knights. As for our next conquest, we shall take the eastern seaboard!”

The people cheered thunderously as Rhok stepped away from the platform, his hard boots clanking on the grating. Admiral Quin joined him at his side as they strode through the hallway, passing personnel in crisp uniforms. They saluted and grunted to show military respect. Only when they were out of sight did Rhok’s shoulders visibly slouch. His once prideful face now grimaced with exhaustion.

“Report, Admiral,” Rhok ordered, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Logistics are better than expected. The latest additions from Neindrill mark an increase of over seventy-five per cent in our transport crafts. In Bakiz, the arsenal inventory is also growing fast, likely to double before we take off for our next destination,” Quin replied promptly.

Rhok rubbed his face. “How many additions to the battlecruiser?”

Promptly, Admiral Quin double-checked on her datapad before answering, ”2 more medium-class on their way, sir.”

“Great work, Admiral.” Rhok paused in thought. “What about new recruits? Do we have clearance for them?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Ah… that’s a bit slower than we thought. The enlistment team is ensuring that only reliable knights join our forces. We can’t be too careful about…”

Impatiently, Rhok cut her off. “It’s fine, Admiral. We’ll put them on the front line. It’s called a baptism by fire for a reason.” His tone was detached.

Admiral Quin did not react externally, but in truth, she swallowed nervously underneath her helmet. “Understood, I’ll let the enlistment team know, sir.”

“Good. Anything else to report?” Rhok asked.

Quin quickly skimmed through various reports. “Nothing major, sir. Only a squadron has been reported MIA.”

“What?” Rhok queried sternly, but Quin remained steadfast, unfazed.

“I… I think they’re fine, sir. Knights sometimes go out—”

“No. Investigate,” he ordered sharply.

“Right away, sir,” Quin found herself saluting before strutting away in haste.

***

In the dark, massive chamber surrounded by rocky walls, Ignius Lux Draconus stood in the middle of a gigantic arch. Its surface was intricately scripted with runes and strange symbols. He wore a stark white coat that cascaded to his knees, topped with a wide-brimmed hat.

With one arm folded behind his back, his other hand wove shimmering, amber lines of arcane energy, as though fuelling the structure beneath him.

His lips murmured an incantation that would feel foreign even to historians, a language akin to death itself, one that should never be spoken.

A dark wailing echoed within the cavern before stopping as abruptly as Ignius's conjuring.

“My child… You have run out of the source,” a velvety, divine voice reverberated from the darkness. Despite her sweet, motherly tone, there was a hint of terror and control hidden beneath.

The dark figure, easily two metres tall, bent over with grace to inspect his architecture. “This is marvellous. Just like the masonry we had at Olympus.”

“Oh Goddess, I am but a humble prophet.” Ignius went to his knees, his head bowed low in total reverence. “I dare not deserve such praise. My humble expertise lies within the art of war.”

White eyes glowed in the darkness, and a smile tugged at her lips. “You shall never question your own capabilities. Are you not one of the Celestius?”

“Yes, Allmother. I just wanted to express my gratitude. Your divine art of D'Arcane is the only true arcane, the one without limitation,” Ignius clarified, placing both hands on his chest.

“Indeed, my Pyro prophet. And you shall use lives, as they are the one resource we have in abundance…”

The thud of boots against the hard ground reverberated as Platinum Knight Rhok entered the cavern. Under his mask, he grimaced at the stench of death that was almost unbearable.

Ignius rose to his feet as the dark figure dispersed into the shadows. He stood with his back to the Platinum Knight. “Ah, Rhok Wagner… Right on time.”

Rhok stood frozen, his HUD scanning the ancient structure that was far beyond his comprehension. “Celestius. You called for me.”

Eventually, Ignius turned halfway toward Rhok, his eyes golden. “Yes. I merely wanted to discuss your next campaign.”

Rhok caught his breath and took a few steps back, his gaze fixed on Ignius’s glowing neck.

The old man’s neck throbbed with the malicious glyphs of Arc Poison — the Deathman’s Brand. It was the same fatal ailment Rhok himself had suffered in the past, yet somehow, Celestius Ignius was still alive and thriving.

Rhok banished the thought and focused on the discussion at hand. “Logistically, we should hold out here until the next batch of war machines arrives. The new recruits are in training and should help us accelerate the invasion…”

Ignius straightened his back and approached him. “And give me one reason why we should be sitting ducks here, wasting valuable… time.”

“W~what do you mean?” Rhok stammered, clearing his throat.

His bright golden eyes were like a dragon’s, intimidating and powerful. His hand clasped Rhok’s armour.

“Thylin is unguarded. Gather your troops and bring me more mana sources,” Ignius ordered, his voice stone-cold.

“But we risk spreading ourselves too thin, Celestius,” he countered, his expression composed despite the turmoil in his soul.

Ignius spread his hands to the side. “Have you no faith, Knight? This marvellous invention will shift the tide of war like never before! Tell me, am I not akin to the god of war?” He asked coldly.

“Yes, sir,” Rhok answered, loud and clear. Then Rhok ran his tongue against the roof of his mouth, suppressing his emotions as best he could.

In a brief moment, Ignius waved him off. “Go, now…”

As Rhok was about to depart, turning to face the light at the cavern’s entrance, Ignius spoke again. “And tell them to bring in the next batch of sources on your way out. It is getting a little too quiet in here.”

Ignius's words made his skin crawl.

“Right.” Rhok’s word was clipped. He turned and strode away with haste. This is far from my plan, he thought, keeping the scheme deep within his mind. Fine. I am going to have to improvise.