Rain hammered against the armored windows of the imperial train as it cut through the black forests of Eldris.
The council meeting in Ashkar had ended three nights ago.
And Helbram Rhise had returned with exactly what he wanted.
Not openly. Not completely.
But enough.
Enough Aetherion shipments to feed the factories hidden beneath Eldris. Enough diplomatic hesitation to buy more time. Enough lies spoken politely across golden tables to prepare for what came next.
The imperial capital of Varnhollow rose ahead through the storm like a steel beast sleeping beneath the mountains.
Black gothic towers pierced the clouds while floodlights swept across the walls and shipyards below. Massive war dreadnoughts rested inside fortified docks beneath the city, their hulls lined with Arcana cannons large enough to erase entire districts.
And beneath all of it—
the real empire was being built.
Helbram stepped out from the train platform without speaking.
Military officers immediately saluted.
Magnus walked beside him, coat moving sharply in the storm winds.
"You got your deal," Magnus muttered. "Barely."
Helbram's eyes remained forward.
"Ashkar fears instability more than ambition."
"They still suspect something."
"They should."
Magnus exhaled slowly. "…You really intend to move forward with this."
Helbram stopped walking for a moment.
Rain struck the black gloves around his hands.
"When Eldris lost the First Pargon War," he said quietly, "they did not simply take land from us."
His voice stayed calm.
"They took pride. Identity. Purpose."
The floodlights reflected across his pale eyes.
"They carved apart our borders. Reduced our fleets. Chained our industries." His gaze hardened. "And then they expected us to thank them for mercy."
Magnus stayed silent.
Because there was nothing to say anymore.
Helbram had already crossed the point where persuasion mattered.
The elevator platform descended deep beneath the capital.
Far below the streets. Far below the naval docks. Far below the factories.
The underground facility stretched endlessly beneath Eldris like a second kingdom buried beneath stone and steel.
Red warning lights pulsed across massive industrial chambers while colossal assembly lines moved in synchronized rhythm. Sparks exploded from welding cranes suspended above enormous black humanoid frames standing motionless in rows.
Hundreds of them.
Maybe more.
The air smelled like oil, steel, ozone, and burned Arcana.
Massive pipes carried refined Aetherion through armored conduits along the walls, glowing faintly crimson beneath protective casing. Entire reactor chambers pulsed with enough power to light cities.
And standing beneath all of it—
were the machines.
Not robots.
Predators.
Eight-foot war constructs forged from void-black alloy so dark it almost swallowed surrounding light entirely. Their armor plating curved sharply around skeletal mechanical bodies while exposed artificial musculature shifted subtly beneath the surface like living tendons.
Their heads resembled distorted knight helms fused with skulls.
Long horn-like blades curved upward from the sides of their heads like demonic crowns.
The only visible light on them came from their eyes—
deep glowing crimson—
and the circular Arcana core embedded within their chests.
Watching.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Helbram stepped forward slowly as the scientists lowered their heads.
Chief Scientist Draven Krieg approached nervously.
"The newest adaptive cores have stabilized, Your Majesty."
One of the machines suddenly moved.
Its head tilted mechanically toward Helbram.
Then—
shhk.
A black blade extended instantly from beneath its forearm, glowing faintly red along the edge
.
Smooth. Fast. Precise.
Krieg quickly continued speaking.
"Their combat adaptation system is evolving faster than predicted. Exposure to hostile Arcana allows the units to analyze, counter, and eventually overpower specific Arcana signatures."
Magnus narrowed his eyes slightly.
"They learn."
Krieg nodded immediately.
"Yes, Premier."
Another construct activated behind them.
Its body shifted unnaturally fast before stopping again.
No wasted movement.
Like something pretending to be human.
Helbram stared upward at the tallest one standing in the center chamber.
Unlike the others—
this one was different.
Larger.
Its armor was more refined, layered like the plates of some ancient abyssal creature. Multiple crimson lines flowed faintly beneath its black shell while longer horns curved backward from its skull-like head.
Its eyes glowed brighter than the rest.
Aware.
Krieg's voice lowered slightly.
"…The command unit."
Helbram looked at it silently.
"What designation."
Krieg hesitated.
Then—
"Projekt: Dämmerung."
The room fell quiet.
Even Magnus looked toward the machine again.
Dämmerung.
Twilight.
The beginning of the end.
"The legion itself will operate under a new title," Krieg continued carefully. "Simplified command terminology improves military synchronization."
Helbram's gaze never left the machine.
"…Name it."
Krieg swallowed.
"…The Dreadknights."
Silence.
Then Helbram smiled slightly.
The massive construct suddenly stepped forward once.
THOOM.
The entire chamber shook beneath the weight of it.
Several scientists flinched instinctively.
The crimson glow in its eyes intensified slightly.
Magnus stared upward.
"…How long."
Krieg adjusted his glasses nervously.
"One year before full deployment capability."
"One year…" Helbram repeated softly.
His reflection stared back at him through the black armor of the machine.
Then—
"Good."
The red eyes of the Obsidian Choir lit the darkness beneath Eldris like rows of awakening demons.
And Helbram Rhise finally looked satisfied.