- Mordred -

  "Maintain formation!" Mordred's voice crackled over the s, resonating with authority as his squad of mechs hurtled through the void. The silhouetted forms of enemy units loomed ahead, dista immi. "Remember, our objective is to dey them. There's no need for ao die in this battle. If your mechs sustain damage, fall back to the support ship."

  "Yes, sir!" came the unified response from the pilots of House Lot, their voices a chorus of determination.

  Mordred khe stakes all too well. The Dogs of War were relentless—elite pilots feared across the empire. Direct frontation was equivalent to suicide. But with the Dark Star under his and, he could at least buy some time. His mech wasn't a feion marvel, but it had been engineered specifically to synize with the unique abilities c through his veins.

  He took a steadying breath, eyes flickering over the holographic dispys that lihe cockpit. "I'm moving ahead. Keep the others off me," he ordered. A fierce resolve hardened in his chest. "Long live the Republic of Encedus!"

  "Long live the Republic of Encedus!" Several pilots echoed his cry, their tones fervent.

  "Death to the Empire!" others added, their passion palpable even through the static-ced transmissions.

  Gripping the twin trol sticks, Mordred pushed the Dark Star to full throttle. The mech surged forward, engines r as it left the formation behind. None of the other maes could match its acceleration; the Dark Star was in a league of its own.

  As enemy fire erupted around him, Mordred weaved through the barrage with razor-sharp precision. Psma zipped past, illuminating the darkness with its lethal glow. His hands moved instinctively, guiding the me a fluid daween streaks of destru.

  Within moments, he on them. Mordred drew Dark Star’s primary on—a bck psma sword. Uhe standard-issue bolt rifles and ons favored by most, this bde required him to get up close and personal. That was just the way he preferred it.

  He sshed through the first enemy mech, the sword cleaving effortlessly through armor and circuitry. Sparks and shards of metal sprayed as the mae crumpled. Pivoting sharply, he brought the bde around to intercept atacker, severing its on arm in a sirike.

  "Sir! We've detected them—the Dogs of War are approag!" an officer's urgent voice broke through the bat chatter. "Spies report they've just e through the telepate."

  Mordred narrowed his eyes. "Aowledged," he replied curtly, his focus unbroken even as he dispatched a third mech with a swift vertical slice.

  "There's more," the officer tinued. "Intelligence firms they've deployed a feion mech."

  "Do we have a visual description?" Mordred asked, his tone measured despite the turmoil around him.

  "It bears an Omega symbol on one arm and is equipped with a Gravity troller at its core," the officer detailed.

  "Uood." Mordred felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He kicked the Dark Star into a spiraling ast, narrowly avoiding a collision as an enemy mech detonated below.

  "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. The mission iraling out of trol. What was supposed to be a straightforward deying a in exge for a bio-engineer had escated dramatically. Now, they faot only the notorious Dogs of War but also an advanced feiohe type of ehat could tip the scales decisively.

  He couldn't let his apprehension show. Not now. Not when his men depended on his unwavering fidence.

  "All units, adjust formation. Prioritize evasion and suppression. Do not ehe fen," he anded.

  A flurry of aowledgments came through, ced with statid the distant sounds of battle.

  Arms bred within the cockpit of the Dark Star, jolting Mordred to full alertness. Indicators fshed red across his HUD, signaling the approach of the mechs he had been trag. His grip tightened around the hilt of his psma sword. With a swift, decisive movement, he sshed through two enemy mechs that had dared to close in on him, their metal husks exploding intments.

  Through the maelstrom of battle, one of his external cameras picked up new tacts. Emerging from the chaotic swarm of batants, a trio of mechs materialized—The Dogs of War. Sleek and menag, their armor ainted in bck with pulsating streaks of purple. Their silhouettes were jagged and aggressive, with sharp edges and irregur pting that gave them a predatory appearahey moved with unnerving speed and precision, weaving through the fray like synized hunters honing in on their prey.

  Mordred's eyes narrowed. The resembo his own mech was unmistakable. Like the Dark Star, these maes wielded psma bdes, though theirs glowed an eerie violet. For years, House Lot had suspected that their designs for the Dark Star had been stolen to create these monstrous equivalents—an aly the Emperor himself could have orchestrated. Yet, without crete proof, the accusations remained whispers in shadowed halls.

  The Dogs of War were an enigma, rarely seen on any battlefield. They were the Emperor's unseen hand, the ultimate on employed not in open war but to keep the Great Houses in check. The on popuew little of them, but Mordred had uncovered their secret long ago. They appeared only when the delicate bance of power was threatened, quelling insurres before they could ignite.

  ‘Perhaps they're not even uhe Emperor's trol,’ Mordred mused, a scowl f beh his helmet. ‘Maybe they ao the Sn himself.’

  Snapping back to the present, he activated the Dark Star's teral thrusters. The mech spiraled gracefully, evading ining fire while preventing the trio from encirg him. His fingers danced over the trols with practiced ease, every maneuver a testament to his lifetime of training.

  Switg to an open el, Mordred's voice rang out with defiant bravado. "e at me o a time, and I'll take you all down!"

  A cold voice replied, dripping with disdain. "You're insane, young Lot."

  "Bow before the Emperor," another intoned, emotionless.

  "Or perish like the rest of your fleet," the third said, adding a hint of meo his tone.

  Their words washed over him. "Sir!" a frantic voice broke through on a secured frequency. "We've received ihe Titans have reached the Half Wall. We may retreat."

  Mordred spared a g his tactical dispy. The situation was deteriorating rapidly. "Squadron 16 rep heavy losses! Requesting permission to fall back," another pilot chimed in, desperation evident.

  "Permission granted," Mordred responded calmly. "Squadrons 17 and 18, provide cover and prepare to withdraw."

  Even as he issued orders, his mind was a flurry of calcutions. The Dogs of ressed him relentlessly, their coordination impeccable. It took every ounce of his skill—and then some—to evade their strikes. Any lesser pilot would have been obliterated by now, but Mordred was no ordinary pilot. He was the s of House Lot, anding one of the most advanced mechs ever built.

  "Squadron 16 retreating," came the firmation.

  Another arm sounded. "Gravitron Prime sighted!" a pilot shouted. "They're moving to encircle us!"

  Mordred's blood ran cold. "He's activating his primary on. Everyone, fall baow!" The urgen his voice was unmistakable.

  But it was too te. The st transmission from Squadron 16 was a garbled scream before their signals vanished. On the horizon, a blinding light erupted as fifteen mechs were pressed into a singur, twisted mass of metal—a grotesque sphere that began to attract debris and wreckage around it. The Gravitron Prime's on had geed a gravitational anomaly so inte obliterated nearly aire battalion in seds.

  "Fuck!" Mordred roared, smming his fist against the sole. But there was no time frief e. Pushing the Dark Star's engines beyond safe limits, he accelerated, maneuvering wildly to avoid ining fire. Warning lights bzed across his cockpit; the reactor was overheating, and structural iy was promised. The mech had never been pushed this hard before.

  "Squadrons 17 and 18, disengage from the enemy med initiate immediate retreat," he anded, his tone icy but posed.

  He k was time to pull back himself. ‘I 't defeat them head-on—not like this,’ he thought grimly. But esg the Dogs of War was no simple task. They moved as one, each c the others' blind spots, leaving no opening for him to exploit.

  "Running away already?" one of the pilots taunted over the open el.

  "Where's the great Lot who dared to decre independence?" another jeered, their voieedling at his posure.

  Mritted his teeth. "We'll meet again, and when we do, you'll face justice," he shot back. "But you won't leave here without a parting gift for the Emperor."

  He closed his eyes briefly, tering himself. Drawing upon the depths of his power, he felt a familiar surge as energy coursed through him. Shadows began to writhe and expand, enveloping the Dark Star from within. Unlike before, when he'd unleashed this power to annihite dozens of mechs, he now tai, letting it infuse every circuit of his mae.

  A sensation of unity washed over him. Pilot and mech became oheir energies iwined. Limitations evaporated. The Dark Star's reactor stabilized, the earlier warnings fading as newfound strength surged through its systems.

  Without warning, he accelerated. The sudden burst of speed caught the Dogs of War off-guard. In the blink of an eye, Mordred on them. His psma sword cleaved through the mech, slig it ly in half. The two halves drifted apart, sparking and sputtering as they tumbled into the abyss.

  Before the remaining two could react, Mordred engaged his thrusters, veering away from the battlefield at breakneck speed. The stars became streaks of light as he pushed the Dark Star to its limits.

  "Inform the Emperor," he transmitted back to his pursuers, his voice eg with defiance, "I am ing for him."

  GCLopes