March 11, 1640

Kals District, Kingdom of Esperanto

Having been invited to see her father, Saffine ogled at the passing views from within one of the Emissaries’ machines. The ride was, unlike those experienced with horse-drawn carriages, relatively smooth. Despite that, she took advantage of whatever bumps the vehicle encountered and pushed herself against the charming young man she sat beside — an ‘American’ who identified himself as Captain Isaac Baker.

Spurred by a burst of confidence, she eventually leaned on him, asking him questions about himself and the Americans. He claimed to be the captain of one of the Emissaries’ units, telling tales of vanquishing demons in Topa, helping conduct the complete annihilation of the Demon Lord himself, and fighting off a corrupted mage on a faraway island. The more he spoke, the more parallels she drew with the Founder’s Prophecy.

Dating back to the establishment of the kingdom, the prophecy originated from the first king, who expended his body’s vast mana pool in his deathbed. He was purported to have outlined the entire kingdom’s future in seven chapters, six of which had already occurred in perfect detail. Only the seventh, titled ‘Salvation’, was yet to occur.

The final chapter detailed the return of the Emissaries, among which stood a valiant leader — a captain of a unit that defends the kingdom against apocalyptic demon hordes and a titanic dragon known to legend as Aji Dhaka. This captain would then go on to cast an ancient bombardment spell to obliterate the dragon with one fell swoop. With the threats vanquished, the first king prophesied the kingdom to enter a new era of prosperity. Meanwhile, the captain himself would return to his homeland, bringing home a maiden. Although not much was said about the captain’s features, Saffine had absolute certainty that Captain Baker was the fabled captain, and she was the maiden.

Saffine’s obvious swooning became a significant topic of tease for Captain Baker, who felt consistent jabs from Nakamoto, who was seated to his right. Without uttering a single word, he could sense Nakamoto’s giddiness, and felt as if he could read his mind. He maintained a straight face as he talked to Saffine, using every ounce of his marine training to fight the alluring beauty of the blonde, blue-eyed elf.

Thankfully, a sudden jolt saved him from testing the limits of his mental and emotional resolve. He instinctively reached to his left to prevent Saffine from smashing into the driver’s seat from the unexpected deceleration, causing her to blush heavily.

“We’re at the town hall, sir,” the driver called out.

“Alright,” Baker said. He exited the vehicle and in a gentlemanly fashion, opened Saffine’s door. Together with Meyer, Moah, Esperanto, Mortes, and Justide, they headed for the town hall.

Inside, several figures stood over a large petri dish filled with bluish blood and what appeared to be a shattered necklace. Seeing King Esperanto enter the main conference hall, everyone stopped what they were doing and bowed.

“As you were,” Esperanto announced. “Captain Mortes, please inform them of our intentions.”

“At once, Your Highness!” Mortes faced the council members and Doctor Balthus. “We come to Kals escorting the Emissaries of the Star God, who are here to aid in the defense of the district. Councilmembers, please follow Knight Justide here to discuss logistics and allow for the seamless transport of the Emissaries’ equipment to the gate.”

As they left, Doctor Balthus noticed his daughter and embraced her. “Saffine, darling, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, Father!” She replied happily. “That, and the Emissaries wish to talk to you about your studies.”

Doctor Balthus bowed toward the Americans with reverence, asking, “What is it you wish to know?”

Captain Baker stepped forward, “We heard about your research, Doctor. If there’s anything useful you can tell us about what we’re up against, I’d gladly appreciate it, and so would Captain Mortes and his men.”

“Right,” Balthus brought them over to the dish. “Several days ago, a meteor shower of some sort struck a region of mountainside near the valley. Knight Justide sent several men to investigate, and called upon me to analyze an interesting discovery: they found dozens of dead demons.”

King Esperanto interjected, “I remember that report… hundreds of dead goblins, dozens of dead orcs, three orc kings, and even an obsidian knight. Smoldering craters and burning metal all around.”

“Sounds like one of our clearing operations,” Baker said.

“In that case,” Balthus said, “You have the utmost gratitude of the citizens of Esperanto. Because of your retribution against these monsters, I was able to study them and figure out their weaknesses. One in particular is significant. Please, take a look at the dish. There is Oni blood inside, from the obsidian knight. You can see it moving around, attempting to regenerate and break free from its containment.”

Everyone circled around the table and analyzed the blood with morbid fascination. The Americans most of all were concerned with encountering yet another phenomenon they couldn’t understand, sharing worried looks with each other.

“Now, observe what happens when I move this necklace closer.” Balthus moved the shimmering red gem near the blood. The closer the gem got, the less active the blood became, eventually ceasing all activity when the gem was right next to the dish. “Somehow, this gem can be used to control demonic blood; perhaps even the demons themselves. My guess is that such devices could be why the demons are more coordinated than we would’ve expected.”

“How can we use this to our advantage?” King Esperanto asked Mortes.

“Our weapons are unable to pierce the armor of obsidian knights, and thus we will be unable to destroy or capture the necklaces stashed within. There is also no guarantee that every single knight will wear one.”

“Captain Baker,” Esperanto said, “Do you have any ideas? Perhaps the Emissaries have dealt with such foes before?”

Baker inspected the shattered gem. “We haven’t had to deal with monsters, Your Highness. However, I think our weapons should be able to pierce their armor. If not, then I am almost certain we can destroy the gems by inflicting enough blunt force trauma near the chest area. Captain Mortes, Doctor Balthus, is there anything that remains of this ‘obsidian knight’?”

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “There is a laboratory in the academy, right across the street.”

“Can you take us there?” Baker asked.

“Of course, Sir Emissary.” Doctor Balthus led the group to the lab, navigating through a small labyrinth of offices and classrooms.

As soon as they entered the lab, they were surprisingly greeted by fresh air, despite the presence of decaying bodies placed upon different operating tables. Stacks of magic gems were piled up along various shelves and containers, reflecting the high magic density of the Grameus continent. This sight was a stark contrast to the electrical lighting of the facility, which screamed late Victorian era.

The Americans set aside their curiosities about the walled kingdom’s technologies as they approached the dead Oni, covered in a white sheet and clad in some armor that was too difficult to remove. The creature had rough, dark skin and short horns emerging from its head. Blue blood covered some of the sheets, remnants of previous dissections.

Doctor Balthus gestured toward the body. “This creature here is an Oni. We’ve not seen what an obsidian knight looks like under its armor until now. It’s honestly astonishing how similar they are to the other races, yet so different when it comes to mana capacity and resilience. I had a lot of difficulty cutting through its skin.”

“This could be a bit of an issue for our smaller caliber weapons. Hopefully their armor isn’t too tough,” Captain Baker remarked.

“If you’d like to test your weapons on the creature, you may do so outside,” Balthus offered. “There is a shooting range that our musketeers use to test their weapons.”

Baker accepted the offer. Curious about the Americans’ firepower, everyone gathered to spectate. The heavy body was brought to the range and posted up alongside a wooden target by several marines, who were then ordered into firing positions.

Baker distributed hearing protection before issuing the order to fire. At Baker’s command, each man unleashed a burst of five rounds, totaling twenty.

The locals all bore shocked expressions, surprised at the devastation that the Emissaries’ firearms brought down upon the wretched body of the demon target. King Esperanto felt hope surge, confident that no enemy could stand against these masters of war. Meanwhile, Saffine felt a fluttering sensation in her heart and stomach, growing ever more confident in her identity as Captain Baker’s fated maiden.

After the smoke cleared, the group went to inspect the body. The vicious thunderclaps weren’t just for show; the armor was ravaged and the body was bleeding profusely out of numerous bullet holes that tore effortlessly through the obsidian knight. Once thought to be impervious, the Emissaries demonstrated just how fragile these feared demons truly were — or how incomprehensibly powerful their guns were.

Satisfied with the results, Baker concluded that his forces could fend off the demonic hordes with relative ease. “Doctor Balthus, Captain Mortes, are there any weak spots we should aim for?” Although it was a silly question to ask, Baker assumed that he couldn’t rely on established Terran doctrines and knowledge. For all he knew, these creatures had their brains in their arms.

“Considering the performance of your weapons, I don’t think it will matter where you shoot them,” Mortes said.

Doctor Balthus quickly stepped in, “If I may add, these creatures do possess regenerative capabilities. I also discovered that, like the other races, these creatures have nervous systems similar to ours. If body shots cannot defeat one of these monsters, you may find it more prudent to strike them in the head.”

Before Baker could thank them, he received a radio transmission from his men, informing him that they were posted up along the walls and ready for further orders. “Thanks for the information. It looks like my men have already completed their preparations. Mister Ambassador, I’ll have Corporal Vargas stay here with you. Everyone else,” he called out to the other marines, “Let’s move out!”

——

Tanks and infantry fighting vehicles formed a defensive line outside the walls, which were coated in dirt, blood, and scorch marks from previous battles. They sat idly, an unfortunate boredom for the men waiting for battle. Most passed the time discussing fantasy, wondering how similar life in Grameus was to popular fiction back home.

Baker, unlike the rest of his men, had a slightly different conversation topic: Saffine.

“She was giving you the googly eyes, dude!” Nakamoto laughed. “You gotta do something after this bro, you gotta get her number or something.”

“Get her number? She doesn’t have a fucking phone, ya dolt.”

Nakamoto shrugged, “Shit, get her manacomm frequency then man. Can’t lose that dime.”

Baker sighed, leaning on a part of a bastion. “I don’t know… it seems kinda unfair if I come into her life and then I’m dragged to like, Mu or something. Those Gra Valkans are planning something for sure.”

“Maybe, but we’re guaranteed gonna be here for at least a few weeks. That’s gotta be enough time to figure something out, right?”

“Yeah,” Baker said nervously, surrendering to the enchanting attractiveness of the elven lady.

His daydreaming was cut short by another transmission. “Sir, I’ve got visual on hostile movement!”

“Understood.” Baker then addressed all of his men, ordering them to prepare for combat.

Local archers and mages helped garrison the bastions, providing a secondary layer of defense to support the Americans.

In the distance, monstrous noises were emitted from within the valley. Soon enough, the entire horde appeared around the corner, led by several obsidian knights. Contrary to prior intelligence, the winged man known as Darkshield was not present.

As soon as the last monsters turned the corner, all weapons let loose. Bullets, shells, and rockets rained down on the mass of flesh, eviscerating the vulnerable goblins in the front of the formation and shredding the organs of the larger orcs and orc kings behind them. The obsidian knights, designated priority targets based on recommendations from the local military, were instantly obliterated by 120mm high explosive shells. Within mere minutes, the entire enemy formation was reduced to a mass of flesh and blood. Corpses piled up along the valley entrance, a monument to the Emissaries’ divine might.

“No survivors,” a drone operator reported. “All hostiles eliminated.”

Baker surveyed the horrific sight with nonchalance and slight concern. “Something tells me it’s only gonna get harder from here…”