March 13

Bagra Volcano, Veit Mountains

“Damn this operation! Damn those cursed Emissaries!” Darkshield swung his sword and unleashed a blade of fire at a nearby structure – once a barracks for Bahara’s army – setting it ablaze. “How am I to return to the homeland now?!” He yelled at the sky, tormented by the chagrin of his failures.

Darkshield’s colleagues stood by in silence as their superior officer threw a tantrum, unwilling to potentially provoke him further by speaking or moving. They allowed Darkshield to continue his monologuing tirade.

His voice roughened by rage and embarrassment, Darkshield ranted, “Those cursed Emissaries think they can impede my glorious rise? They dare strip me from my promotion? Oh, ho ho,” He began to laugh maniacally, “Oh, now they’ve gone and done it!”

One of the winged men looked to his coworker beside him, holding his hand to his mouth as he whispered, “Jole, I think lunacy has beset Sir Darkshield…”

Jole subtly distanced himself from his coworker, holding a finger to his mouth as he did so.

“MARSH!” Darkshield screamed, pointing his blade at the Annonrial who dared to speak. “Do you have something to say!? Perhaps you know how to rid these lands of the Emissaries?” He strode toward the now-panicking man.

Marsh stood upright, shivering from terror. “I have nothing to say, sir! I wholly empathize with your plight against the cursed Emissaries, sir!”

Much to Marsh’s perturbation, Darkshield sneered, “I’m fairly certain you uttered a different set of words… Now, why don’t you demonstrate your solidarity with me? You empathize with my plight, yet do nothing to aid me, only providing words.” Darkshield inched closer to his subordinate, placing his blade under Marsh’s chin. “If you have no plan, then I may as well decide that you are of no use to me,” he threatened, lacing his sinister words with toxin.

Marsh raised his hands, shaking in fear. “I have a plan! I have a plan!” He yelped pathetically.

Darkshield simply stared at the terrified man in response, his silent gaze boring into Marsh’s very soul as if saying, “Well then? I’m waiting.”

Amidst a series of stutters, Marsh was able to propose an idea. “I uh – I think we can send another army to Esperanto!”

“We have no army left. Our best general and all of our demonic forces are gone.”

“No, no! I don’t mean them!” Marsh said, attempting to buy time while he thought of a plan to save his life.

Darkshield’s powerful silence struck Marsh yet again, granting him little reprieve for his mind to think rationally.

In a surprising change of behavior, Marsh smirked, no longer terrified of Darkshield. “I know what we can do,” he said confidently. “We can unleash the test subjects of the Veit facility!”

Darkshield smiled ominously, finding some value in Marsh’s proposal. “It’s a good thing we never informed the Director of the facility. Very well, let us release the Cursed Bloodhounds. Oh, and let us release the Aji Dhaka as well. The Bloodhounds will be attracted to the food source of Esperanto, and the Aji Dhaka will be attracted to the magical energies of the Bloodhounds. Then, when they have moved on from Esperanto and targeted the civilizations of Philades, we shall pick through the ruins of Esperanto for the beacon.”

—-

March 15

Kingdom of Esperanto

Following extensive rounds of questioning, the Oni were deemed to be innocent and indeed under the influence of some sort of mind-control device, as demonstrated by Doctor Balthus and a team of experienced American and Mirishial scientists. Now free of guilt, Bahara finally decided to ask the Emissaries for assistance and requested a meeting with the American leadership.

“Captain Baker, Ambassador Reiker,” he addressed the two men.

“General Bahara,” Reiker greeted him, “Please accept my apologies for the confinement. I hope you understand why we had to do that.”

Bahara brushed it off, “Oh, I assure you I do. I would have taken the same precautions, but I’m glad the innocence of myself and my men have been proved.”

“Come to think of it, how’d that necklace end up around you anyway?” Baker asked.

“Alas, that subject is precisely what I am here to discuss. To provide context, I once served as personal guard for Her Highness Princess Elya of my motherland, Heiskanen. One day, a mysterious stranger showed up along the borders to our kingdom – a winged man in crimson armor. Not long after his appearance, Her Highness disappeared. I was lured to his domain by guarantees for the Princess’ safety; if I complied with his wishes, he would return the Princess safely to the kingdom. Initially, his demands were mundane: he asked to sample my blood and perform random tasks like casting basic magic. His requests were never unthinkable, until several weeks later when he asked me to put on a necklace.”

“The mind-control necklace…” Reiker murmured.

“Yes,” Bahara said, hiding feelings of potent regret that surfaced at the mention of the artifact. “He gave me more tasks, each one a more significant test of obedience than the former, until he finally grew satisfied with his results. By this point, I was a prisoner trapped in my own body – aware of the atrocities I was forced to commit. I helped Darkshield convince a contingent of my own men to follow me in a mission to save the Princess, and distributed necklaces among them.” He then sighed in disappointment, “I told them that the necklaces were powerful artifacts that could help boost our magical abilities, and they believed me. For months, we remained slaves to Darkshield’s will. Now that we are freed from his influence, we ask for your assistance in helping us capture Darkshield so we may find the Princess’ whereabouts.”

Baker looked at Reiker, whispering to him, “Eliminating hostile threats falls within our mission parameters, but it looks like this Darkshield character might be an Annonrial. Up to you if you want to designate him a hostile threat.”

Reiker nodded and turned back to Bahara without hesitation. Confidently, he accepted Bahara’s request, “Darkshield is a threat to us all if allowed to freely roam the Grameus continent. Although we are familiar with his nationality, we are not afraid of sparking an international incident against perpetrators of criminal behavior. We will help you capture him.”

—-

March 20

Camp Kaiju, 10 Miles Southwest of Esperanto

Yet to be affected by the stimulative effects of his coffee, Captain Baker rubbed his eyes as he sifted through another stack of paperwork, courtesy of the recently arrived reinforcements from the USS Theodore Roosevelt and her associated fleet. The new arrivals consisted primarily of engineering and construction personnel, who were already nearing completion of a rudimentary airfield. Despite the tediousness of working with the documents, Baker nonetheless felt a sense of security now that their Grameus operation was finally in full swing.

Carrier Strike Group Nine provided a significant boost to their lackluster airpower, replacing the USS America’s helicopters and F-35s as the dominant aerial force of the region. Constant surveys and scouts continued to identify pockets of monsters, which were promptly destroyed. Several UAVs had been tasked to search for Darkshield, but had so far been unsuccessful until recently. Yesterday, they spotted smoke coming from a supposedly dormant volcano. Upon investigation, it was revealed that the smoke was from an artificial source – likely from Darkshield.

A followup scan of the region found nothing further, so Baker determined that it would be a waste of resources to pursue Darkshield into the uncharted wilderness, especially when that meant repositioning men away from Esperanto. According to Bahara, Darkshield was after a Ravernal Revival Beacon, confirming their suspicions. As such, Baker opted to wait for Darkshield to come to him.

With Darkshield’s army wiped out, Baker and other strategists anticipated that the Annonrial would attempt to pursue one of three strategies: flee the continent, raise another army, or attempt to infiltrate Esperanto. If Darkshield attempted to flee, any sign of it would be easily detected – unless he used teleportation magic or rowed all the way to Philades. Escaping would additionally imply that Darkshield was willing to face the consequences of failure, which Bahara assured was not a facet of his personality. If Darkshield attempted to raise another army, he wouldn’t be able to hide such large movements, and could thus be raided. If he tried to infiltrate Esperanto, he would be easily caught by surveillance teams equipped with a variety of sensors.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Darkshield had no options in the eyes of the Americans, who knew Darkshield will have to play his hand eventually. Unfortunately, he did indeed play his hand, revealing an unexpected deck. Much to the surprise of Baker, he was beset by an urgent communique from an intelligence team on the USS Theodore Roosevelt.

“Captain, we’re seeing a large formation headed your way, from the Bagra Volcano. ETA, two hours. Sending visual feed now.”

A live broadcast of the described formation popped up on Baker’s tablet, showing hundreds of unidentifiable, truck-sized monsters rushing toward Esperanto.

“Shit,” Baker said as he immediately reached for his communicator and alerted his men of the situation.

Alarms blared, sending the inactive base into a frenzy of activity. In mere moments, Moah and Bahara arrived at Baker’s tent, ready to provide expertise.

“Ah, there you are. What are these?” Baker showed them the video feed.

Moah shook his head, “I’m not sure; we’ve never encountered such creatures before; nor have any of Topa’s ancestors.”

Bahara on the other hand, knew clearly what the monsters were, “Those… Those are Cursed Bloodhounds! They’re the original creature that the gaulus is modeled after. Each one possesses firepower equivalent to one of your tanks, and are so lethal that – according to legend – even the Ravernals suffered losses against these beasts. Granted, they were trying to capture one with infantry, but we have no such need.”

“I see where you’re going with this. I’ll request an airstrike on the formation. Should take care of the entire group,” Baker said calmly.

The moment he went to go contact the USS Theodore Roosevelt, he received another communication from them. “Captain, we’ve spotted something new! It’s… massive,” the operator said, at a loss for words. “Sending you visuals now.”

The moment Baker and his associates laid eyes on the creature, their hearts dropped. “What the fuck?” Baker asked aloud. “Is that King Ghidorah?”

Other command officers began to crowd the nearby screens, afflicted by the same shock as Baker.

Amidst a flurry of conversation, Baker asked Moah and Bahara to identify the creature.

“That’s the legendary Aji Dhaka,” Bahara explained, tone struck by fear. “According to our historical records, the beast was somehow detained by the Ravernal Empire following a massive battle that weakened it. It is known for its ability to shoot lightning at targets.”

“From its mouth?” Baker asked.

“Yes, from its mouth. It also has regenerative capabilities that we theorize are similar to that of a hydra’s, although for obvious reasons, nobody has been able to test that theory.”

“Alright. I’ll inform the admiral.”

—-

Bagra Volcano

Darkshield grinned sinisterly, chest swelling with pride and confidence as Aji Dhaka thundered after the Cursed Bloodhounds, shaking the ground with every step. He closely followed behind it, driving slowly so as to not catch the attention of the sky scraping beast. His subordinates trailed behind him in their own vehicle, ready to adapt to new orders.

For every second that passed, Darkshield grew increasingly excited. Despite this, he recognized the dangers posed by the Americans. While the small group of forces stationed in Esperanto might be wiped out, reinforcements wouldn’t be too far behind. He assumed that the Americans would hunker down at the Topa land bridge, which would buy him time to search for the beacon and escape.

“Get the boat ready,” he said to his companions over manacomm. “I will meet you at the dock when I have retrieved the device.”

The car behind him veered to the right, heading toward the ocean while he continued driving forward. Left to his own delusions, he laughed. At last, victory was within reach.