2 Hours Post-Transference - 10:59 PMThe High Room, Souver?nian Paist

  The atmosphere in the chamber remained thick with disbelief. Even hours after the transference, the weight of their new reality lingered in every corner of the room. Faces once confident now bore the unease of the unknown. Their world—their very home—was gone. They had been torn from their home pnet and cast into another realm beyond comprehension.

  The central holographic dispy flickered intermittently, struggling to process data. The AGNOS—Alnanian Global Navigation and Orbiting System—remained partially functional, but without updates from orbital satellites, its readings beyond the continent were riddled with errors and blind spots.

  "I still can't believe this..." the emperor muttered, breaking the silence. "All of our pns... our vision for a greater future... all of it vanished in a moment. So much for finally uniting the continent—" he stopped, eyes narrowing at the flickering map before him. "Wait... let me crify. Did you just say the entirety of the Valdan Continent was transferred?"

  "Uhh... yes, Eurtre Majest?té," Minister-General Viktor replied, leaning forward. "Based on all incoming data, it appears the entire continent was dispced with us. Not just Alnania, but—" he paused, squinting at the projection as it stabilized momentarily.

  Then he saw it and his expression darkened.

  "The Volkov Republic... they're here too."

  For a moment, the room went still again—only this time, tension repced confusion. The emperor's gaze hardened, while Viktor began processing the implications with chilling crity.

  "This... changes everything," he said. "Eurtre Majest?té, if I may—this may be the worst possible timing, but also our greatest opportunity. The Volkov Republic has been cut off from the Avalonians and their allies. With no external support, and their internal systems likely in disarray from the bckout, this could be the perfect time to strike." He straightened, his voice gaining weight. "We propose to proceed with the invasion immediately. Their forces will be disorganized, their command structure likely fractured. If we strike now, we can eliminate the Volkovian threat once and for all, before they have a chance to adapt to this new world."

  Silence filled the room as all eyes turned to the emperor. Every breath was held in anticipation. This was a moment of decision and perhaps the only chance they would ever have. The imperial forces were ready, and their enemies had never been more vulnerable. The path to a unified continent was finally within reach.

  "A month..." the emperor murmured, almost inaudibly. The weight of his words settled like stone upon the chamber.

  "A month is what I'm giving you," he continued, his voice rising with authority and steel. "You are to push into the Republic and force their capitution. I want the Volkovian threat extinguished within thirty days."

  He paused, then added with a sharp tone, "Simultaneously, reconnaissance and intelligence operations must begin immediately. We are still strangers to this world—unaware of its threats, geography, and inhabitants. I want us prepared. No assumptions. No compcency."

  The ministers nodded solemnly as the Emperor turned his gaze toward Minister Elei.

  "While the military secures the continent, the Ministry of Innovation and Scientific Affairs is to begin full-scale investigations and research on this new world. I want preliminary findings by the end of the week."

  He gestured toward a nearby aide. "Inform the Bureau of Aerospace Command to reestablish contact with every satellite possible. Prioritize deep-space recon systems and orbital surveilnce. I want eyes in the sky, now more than ever."

  His voice lowered, but grew more ominous. "And one more thing—decre a national lockdown. Effective immediately. Civilian movement is to be restricted. The right to assembly is hereby suspended until further notice. We cannot risk instability while the Empire regains its footing."

  A heavy stillness settled over the room, the enormity of his orders echoing in the minds of every official present.

  "This world has given us new opportunities to exploit and new dangers that we must overcome," the emperor decred in a stern, commanding voice that echoed through the High Room. "This session is adjourned. Vive das Empirreich!" He rose from his seat, raising a clenched fist high into the air in a salute— a symbol of unity, strength, and unwavering determination.

  "Vive das Empirreich!" came the resolute response, as every minister, general, and official stood in unison, saluting their sovereign with clenched fists of their own. The cry resounded like a war drum, not just a decration of loyalty but also a vow to forge a future no matter the cost.

  And so, from the grand halls of Valdr?d to the farthest reaches of their transported nds, the gears of fate began to turn. Thus began the journey of the Imperial Federation in this strange and untamed world. A journey woven with chaos and hope, conquest and discovery, conflict and destiny. In this unfamiliar nd where old maps held no meaning and the stars above bore unfamiliar names, the Alnanians would carve out their pce anew but not as refugees, but as conquerors, visionaries, and bearers of an empire reborn.

  The drums of war had sounded. The fires of ambition had been lit and a new age had begun.

  Western Ridge Border Post - 01:20 AMWestern Regions of the Republic of Volkov

  The border was eerily quiet, an unnatural silence settling over the ridge ever since the global communication bckout hours prior. A patrol squad trudged slowly along the perimeter, eyes scanning the darkness for anything unusual. Above them, the night sky bzed with eerie brilliance, the second moon and the newly formed pnetary ring casting soft, silvery hues over the rugged terrain.

  The soldiers stopped for a brief break, settling on scattered rocks as they gnced back toward the base, a kilometer behind them. Its tower lights flickering weakly under backup power.

  "Any of you got theories on what the fuck happened earlier?" the youngest recruit asked, half-joking, trying to mask the tension in his voice.

  "Probably some rebel stunt," one replied, brushing dust off his boots. "Civil unrest's been getting worse across the capital and outer provinces. Those bureaucrats in Volia are barely keeping things together."

  "Nah, I'm tellin' you that we got isekai'd or something," another soldier said with a grin. "I mean, come on... second moon? Asteroid rings? That's straight out of some fantasy bullshit."

  "Isekai'd? You're still watching that anime crap from the Shinseijins?" one ughed. "Told you, that stuff's Shinseikōku propaganda, definitely mind control through waifus."

  The group chuckled in unison.

  Shinseikōku, officially the Imperial Sovereign State of Shinseikōku, had been one of the few nations in the old world that rivaled and in some areas, surpassed even Alnania in technological advancements. Their cultural exports, especially "anime", had flooded global media networks, spreading faster than their AI innovations or defense drones. Some joked it was their greatest weapon.

  "How about you, Sarge?" one asked, gncing at the squad leader.

  "I don't know a damn thing," Sergeant Dornel said, exhaling a slow breath as he leaned back on the rock. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's the Alnanians or Avalonians screwing around with tech they don't understand. Still... gotta admit, the new sky looks kinda beautiful."

  He stared up at the shimmering ring that stretched across the horizon. It was peaceful, almost calming.

  Then suddenly, a sharp fracture tore through the air like a whip. The ground trembled violently beneath them.

  "Earthquake?" one shouted.

  But before anyone could react, a massive explosion lit up the night in the distance. A column of fire and debris erupting into the sky. The impact roared like a dragon, followed by a shockwave that hit them like a freight train. Dirt, steel, and shattered stone smmed into the squad, flinging them like ragdolls across the ridge.

  One of the towers in the base crumbled into a heap of rubble, its beacon light vanishing in a blink.

  "Wh—what the hell—" a soldier tried to speak before being cut off by a searing bst of heat and pressure.

  Sergeant Dornel hit the ground hard, ears ringing, lungs struggling through dust and smoke. He blinked through the haze, pushing himself up. Fmes flickered in the distance, casting monstrous shadows across the valley.

  His eyes locked onto a burning silhouette beyond the ridge.

  "That's the Central Command Tower... it's been hit," he muttered, jaw tightening.

  His radio crackled violently to life. "—mand is down! Repeat, command is down! All units, respond—anyone still transmitting, come in!" a person spoke from the other side, panting, with the sounds of destruction rumbling in the background.

  "This is Sergeant Dornel!" he shouted into the receiver, staggering to his feet. "What the hell just happened?!"

  "We've been hit! Multiple men down! The entire commanding brass got fucking killed in that strike!" a panicked voice crackled through the radio, distorted by static and shouts in the background.

  "They look like railgun strikes—I don't know where the hell they're coming from, but God help us if it's the fucking Alnani—" the transmission cut out abruptly, swallowed by a high-pitched screech of interference as another railgun strike tore across the horizon, erupting in a distant plume of fire and dust that lit the night sky like a second dawn.

  "...they got him." said the Sergeant as he let go of his radio.

  A thunderous roar tore across the sky.

  Four silhouettes streaked overhead, bck against the silver glow of the twin moons — but the golden trims gleamed unmistakably under the light. And then... the insignia on their wings came into view.

  The Imperial Alnanian Aerospace Force.

  "It's the Alnanians! We're under attack by those bastards!" Sergeant Dornel shouted.

  As if on cue, the ground shuddered again as a series of violent explosions erupted across the base behind them, each bst more devastating than the st. Fires bloomed like dying suns, casting the valley in searing hues of red and orange. Tracer rounds tore through the night sky as Volkovian anti-air batteries roared to life, stitching the heavens with burning lines of fk. Moments ter, another thunderous boom of high-speed missile impacts rippled across the terrain, shaking the earth and tearing through everything in their path.

  "Missile strikes! Shit, shit, shit! I didn't sign up to die on my first damn deployment!" one of the younger soldiers screamed, voice cracking in panic for him to only to be cut off by a swift punch from his squadmates.

  "Get your shit together! You're still breathing, count that as lucky," she growled. "We need to regroup at the base. This might just be a preemptive stri—"

  She froze mid-sentence.

  A low, grinding rumble echoed from the distance, it was the unmistakable sound of treads crushing soil and steel moving through the darkness.

  "...Sarge," one soldier whispered, eyes wide. "Those... those are ours, right?"

  Sergeant Dornel turned toward the sound, squinting into the shadows— but then he saw them, Alnanian armored divisions, their sleek, gold-trimmed hulls glinting in the moonlight, soldiers advancing behind them in formation.

  "...They're not fucking ours," he muttered. "Move! We need to get down there before they reach the base!"

  He was about to sprint forward when a hand gripped his arm.

  "Sarge, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we won't survive if we go down there. We'll just get torn apart. I know it means leaving our brothers and sisters behind... but someone has to warn the Republic. And right now, we're the only ones with a real chance of making it out."

  The rest of the squad nodded grimly, silent but in full agreement.

  Dornel clenched his jaw, torn between duty and survival. His heart screamed to fight, but his mind knew better.

  "...Damn it all..." he muttered under his breath. Then louder "Echo Squad... fallback."

  A wave of tense relief passed through the team as they turned and slipped into the shadows of the forested hills, leaving behind the chaos of their outpost and comrades.

  Meanwhile, behind the advancing Alnanian armored divisions...

  Inside a Mobile Command Center, a sleek, heavily fortified vehicle bristling with antennae and sensor arrays, the interior glowed with dim red and amber lights. Holographic dispys flickered in rhythm with the movement of the frontlines, projecting shifting heat signatures, tactical overys, and updated coordinates of the rapidly expanding Alnanian assault.

  The low hum of generators and the quiet ctter of data feeds filled the air, broken only by urgent murmurs between officers.

  "Commander," an operations officer called out, turning toward the center of the room, "Infrared sensors just picked up movement in the southern quadrant— one klick out. A squad's retreating through the eastern treeline. Disorganized movement, likely shell-shocked or scattered from the first strike. Orders? Should I dispatch hunter drones to intercept?"

  The room paused for a moment, awaiting the command.

  The Field Commander, cd in a dark uniform adorned with silver cords and the Imperial Crest of Alnania, stood silent. He leaned forward, elbows on the console, fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes fixated on the flickering silhouettes darting through the dust and thermal fog on the dispy.

  He studied them, a retreating Volkovian squad, their formation broken, limbs sluggish, morale fractured.

  "...No."

  The subordinate hesitated, eyes narrowing. "Sir?"

  The Commander exhaled slowly, the faintest glimmer of a cold smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

  "Let them run. Let them feel the weight of inevitability. By the time they find anyone to warn, we'll already be halfway through Volkovian territory. And if their command still breathes by then, they'll only find fear waiting in the wake of our advance."

  "Understood, Commander."

  "Continue the push. Prioritize infrastructure strikes, every power stations, rail lines, satellite uplinks. I want their war machine paralyzed before they even understand the scope of this offensive."

  "Yes, sir."

  Outside, columns of tanks, IFVs, and mechanized artillery thundered forward in perfect formation, accompanied by sweeping air patrols above. The night sky shimmered with contrails and the flicker of missile trails, casting a surreal light upon the burning horizon. Drones danced overhead like watchful predators, reying live footage to the command centers, marking targets, scanning for resistance.

  This wasn't just a battle.

  It was a calcuted unraveling.

  A demonstration of force to not just to the Volkovians, but to the unknown world that now surrounded them. A message written in fire, steel, and precision.

  And so began the first spark of the Fourth Continental War, a war not born merely of borders or politics, but forged from ambition, vengeance, and the cold, calcuted will of a new empire standing at the gates of a new world.

  Imperial Square - Vian 6, 217802:00 PM - Imperial Standard TimeImperial Capital City of Valdr?d

  The streets of Valdr?d buzzed with restrained activity. Though the heart of the empire stood tall and proud, a shadow loomed over its citizens. The aftermath of the transference still weighing heavy on their minds. It had only been six days since the world changed, yet the empire marched on with discipline and purpose. Civilian movement remained restricted under martial order, and every corner was lined with security patrols and surveilnce drones scanning the crowd.

  A towering screen mounted above the square bred the test broadcast from the Alnanian Imperial News Network, catching the attention of every passerby.

  "As of this morning at 07:30 AM Imperial Standard Time, multiple Volkovian cities have erupted in nuclear fire after precision strikes from Alnanian bombers. The coordinated bombings were aimed at forcing a swift surrender and eliminating any residual military assets the Republic might possess. Strategic targets included armories, command posts, and industrial infrastructure.

  According to the Ministry of Defense and Military Affairs, civilian poputions were given evacuation warnings well ahead of the strikes. Western Volkovian territory has rgely colpsed under the relentless advance of the Alnanian Army, while the eastern regions are currently under sustained bombardment from our carrier strike groups operating in the Iosyp Ocean.

  This is Karl Larter, reporting for the Alnanian Imperial News Network. Back to you at HQ."

  The broadcast ended, but the footage of the mushroom clouds and burning skylines continued looping in silence. The people watching stood still, some in awe, others in disbelief, still grappling with the reality that even in a new world, war followed them like an echo of the past.

  "Can't believe we really had to nuke those cities..." said a woman quietly, sipping her drink as she sat by the window of a quiet café overlooking the square. The screen outside still repyed footage of smoke rising over Volkovian skylines.

  "The emperor wanted a swift end to this," replied the man sitting across from her, casually stirring his tea. "At least he didn't authorize the orbital ptforms. That would've been... catastrophic."

  The woman sighed, her eyes lingering on the screen. "Even so... once this war ends, I want to help those people. Even if they were part of an enemy nation, I still feel... pity. They didn't ask for this."

  "They never do," the man said solemnly. "But pity doesn't change policy. Based on the test projections, they'll likely be designated third-css citizens after the war. Maybe some will make it to second-css, if they're lucky... but immediate elevation? Unlikely."

  She shook her head. "This css system... it's harsh. Unethical, even."

  "It is," he agreed, "but it's also what's kept the empire strong. Structure, hierarchy, progression, that's how we forged unity out of fractured colonies. Many of those colonies became full-fledged states. Some of their people, through merit and loyalty, even climbed to first-css status. The empire rewards dedication, it may be ruthless—yes, but fairly, in its own way."

  She remained quiet for a moment, then looked up. "I just hope that this new world won't turn us into even greater monsters. We were given a second chance, but I'm afraid we'll just repeat everything... only worse."

  The woman gnced out at the square, where soldiers stood watch and crowds moved under surveilnce drones."...Or maybe we already have."

  "Anyway, what's left for today? I just want to go home, this tour my father assigned me is giving me a headache." the young woman sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

  "That's entirely up to you... Crown Princess Celestine." the man replied with a subtle bow, adjusting the pel of his suit.

  She smiled faintly. "Then let us go home. I can't have my bodyguard following me all day, right? Still... I wonder what new dangers this world will throw at us. Even in this so-called New World, we still face the Same Threats."

  As they left the café and stepped into the armored convoy, the golden crest of the Imperial Family gleaming on the door, the city behind them pulsed with both life and unease. The world may have changed, but the game of power, conquest, and survival had not.

  Later that evening, the Republic of Volkov officially capituted. A swift end to the first of many wars in this strange, foreign and magical new world.

  Western HemisphereUnknown Location

  "—ereby announce the formal surrender of Volkovian forces and authority to the Aln—" the transmission cut off, the audio distorting before fading into static.

  "That was the only thing we managed to capture and decrypt before we lost connection, sir. Everything else is still gibberish... until we can get a broader understanding of the nguage," the young intelligence officer reported, tapping at his terminal with a frown.

  The commanding officer stood silently for a moment, eyes narrowing at the flickering waveform on the monitor. "Keep digging. Try to isote more transmissions, anything that can help us identify their origin or capabilities."

  "Yes, sir. We'll reroute the scans and refine the decryption filters."

  The officer turned, hands csped behind his back. "But until then, our attention stays on our front. The Leiforians aren't going to burn themselves... and those bastards deserve everything that's coming their way."

  On the other side of the world, war still rages, a unrelenting, brutal, and far from over. But soon, the two forces, shaped by different worlds and forged by conflict, will meet. And when they do, the true storm of this New World will begin.

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  Upcoming Chapter:Oh, Fuck No

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