Latveria was not a large country. The total population barely scratched one million souls, scattered across terrain that ranged from fertile river valleys to impoverished rural backwaters.
Its geography told the story of a nation caught between powers. Romania bordered it from above, Serbia pressed against its left flank, and along its southern edge, it shared a slice of Black Sea coastline with Bulgaria. A small country in a region of giants, surviving through geography and luck.
The capital city of Hassenstadt represented the nation's only true urban center. Streets there boasted proper paving. Buildings rose more than two stories. The population clustered densely, creating something approaching actual civilization.
Beyond the capital, development clustered along the Hassenstadt River. The waterway ran almost throughout Latveria, its course dictating settlement patterns. Seven or eight satellite cities had gradually built themselves along its banks over recent decades, growing from trading posts into modest urban centers.
As for other places, civilization thinned to nothing. Rural towns dotted the landscape, farmers gathering in small communities that barely qualified as villages. Electricity remained a luxury in many corners. Running water even more so.
The reality was stark: before the Fortunov family murdered the royal family to seize power, this place had been nothing more than a small agricultural feudal country. It had luckily escaped World War II's devastation and the Cold War's proxy conflicts through sheer irrelevance. No one had bothered conquering what offered so little value.
Now, the Fortunov family ruled with iron fists wrapped in velvet gloves. And Leviathan pulled their strings from the shadows.
At this moment, winter's grip tightened across the land. The temperature had dropped suddenly as evening approached, frost forming on every surface. The sky gradually dimmed, the sun's weak winter light fading toward darkness.
Around the satellite city called Hassenstadt No. 3, the landscape was quiet. Almost peaceful. A tributary of the Hassenstadt River flowed along the city's edge, its waters sluggish with cold, surface beginning to freeze at the banks.
The riverbed here ran five meters deep, carved over centuries by patient water. Fish, shrimp, and crabs settled into the mud for winter sleep, metabolism slowed, waiting for spring.
Then the water exploded.
The riverbed suddenly stirred, waves of turbid mud erupting upward. Silt that had rested undisturbed for months boiled into suspension. The disturbance scattered countless sleeping creatures, sending them fleeing through clouded water in panic.
The next moment, black metal giants more than two meters tall slowly emerged from the depths.
Power armor broke the surface with minimal splash, water streaming from ceramite plates. Five shadowy and terrifying figures rose from the riverbed like ancient leviathans, breathing apparatus filtering air through specialized systems.
Nolan, wearing his metal helmet, spoke through the communication channel. His voice filtered through to the Stormtroopers beside him, calm and professional despite the frigid water and hostile territory.
"According to the hand-drawn maps and a lot of information provided by Zora and others, plus David's data analysis, we finally found that there is an old sewer pipe in the tributary of the Hassenstadt River that leads directly to the No. 3 satellite city."
He paused, letting them process the tactical situation. "Victor, the spiritual leader of the resistance, was imprisoned in the fortress in the center of the city by the Fortunov family and Leviathan."
His tone shifted, taking on instructional weight. "The former resistance army was unable to carry out similar rescue missions due to the lack of technological equipment support, so the rescuers who attacked by force suffered heavy casualties. But now, our power armor and training quality are enough to make up for any gap."
Emphasis entered his voice, making sure they understood the mission parameters. "I repeat again, our mission is to sneak into the castle and rescue Victor himself. Apart from that, do not take any unnecessary actions without authorization. Liberating this city is not our top priority. Do you understand?"
As soon as Nolan's voice fell, the replies came instantly.
"Understood, Chief!" The responses overlapped through the communication channel, five voices speaking as one.
Nolan's metal helmet shook slightly. The motion sent a series of bubbles slowly rising from the breathing valve of his helmet mask. They drifted upward through the murky water, catching what little light filtered down from the darkening sky.
Everyone immediately began searching. Their helmet eyepieces activated low-light enhancement, scanning the dark riverbed with undercurrents for their entry point. The sewer pipe entrance waited somewhere in this silted chaos.
Minutes passed. Then Gao Qi's voice crackled through the comm. "Found it, Chief. Northeast, twenty meters."
Nolan turned, boots finding purchase in river mud. The team converged on Gao Qi's position, moving through water with surprising grace despite their armored bulk.
The pipe entrance revealed itself under a pile of rubble and floating water plants. More than one person high, barely adequate for power armor passage. And across its mouth, thick metal fencing stood firmly, covered in traces of rust that spoke to decades of neglect.
Everyone slowly gathered around the entrance. Nolan examined the obstacle, then nodded to Gao Qi.
Permission granted, Gao Qi gripped the fence with both armored hands. His servos whined as he pulled. The ancient metal resisted briefly, rust protesting, then gave way completely. He easily lifted the entire metal barrier and tossed it aside. It tumbled through water before disappearing into the mud at the riverbed's bottom.
Then, one by one, everyone lowered their power armor profiles as much as possible. They carefully filed into the passage, entering the forgotten infrastructure of Latveria's past.
The sewer was cramped, barely adequate. Armor scraped against ancient concrete. But they pressed forward, moving through darkness toward the city above.
A few minutes later, somewhere beneath the streets of Hassenstadt No. 3, steel met concrete.
The subtle sound of a large Catachan Fang's black tip piercing through the concrete floor echoed in the confined space. Nolan worked the blade in a circle, cutting with patient precision. The weapon's edge, impossibly sharp, parted aged concrete like butter.
A large piece of floor, one-foot-thick and reinforced with rebar, came free. The metal manhole cover in its center added extra weight. Together, they must have weighed hundreds of pounds.
A metal palm gripped the edge. Then lifted. Slowly. Carefully. Minimizing noise.
Nolan's hands dragged the extremely heavy floor section upward. Muscles strained. Servos compensated. The slab rose without sound, tilted, then set aside.
He jumped through the entrance he'd just cut, power armor carrying him smoothly into the space above. His boots touched down on actual street pavement with soft clicks.
Then the Stormtroopers followed. Holding their large Catachan sabers ready, they drove their power armor with wet stains still dripping river water. Each emerged from the sewer quickly, efficiently, forming a defensive perimeter.
Nolan, kneeling on one knee, reached back down. His fingers found the heavy floor section's edge. He lifted it again, maneuvering it back into place. Setting it down slowly, toes guiding placement, minimizing the sound to barely audible scraping.
The manhole cover settled back into position. To casual observation, nothing had changed. The street looked undisturbed.
Nolan looked up, helmet tracking across the environment. His enhanced vision swept the area, cataloging details. Empty street. Buildings dark. No immediate threats visible.
He made a tactical gesture, fingers forming signals the Stormtroopers read instantly.
The five members of the team immediately activated their power armor to full stealth configuration. Servos quieted. Power systems damped. They engaged the techniques Nolan had drilled into them, methods for reducing footsteps to near-silence despite wearing tons of ceramite.
They rushed toward the most eye-catching ancient castle in the center of the city. Five shadows, barely visible, moving with purpose through empty streets.
Nolan, wearing his metal helmet, shook his head slightly. He had a different approach in mind.
He took a deep breath and released the special passive ability he'd temporarily designated "Invisible Man." The sensation was now familiar, like flexing a muscle he'd never known existed. Reality bent slightly around him, perception sliding away from his presence.
His whole form shifted grip on the large Catachan Fang, holding it in a backhand position. Then he simply walked toward the target location, moving openly along city streets. No stealth. No hiding. Just walking.
And no one saw him. The few civilians who hadn't yet retreated indoors for the night looked right through him. Their minds dismissed his presence as irrelevant, unimportant, not worth noticing.
The castle loomed larger with each step. Ancient stonework rose against the darkening sky, a medieval fortress incongruous with the modern satellite city around it. Light glowed from windows. Sentries moved on walls.
When Nolan successfully arrived at the entrance, the scene had already changed.
The Stormtroopers had been busy. Around the castle's perimeter, the light and dark sentinels responsible for mobile reconnaissance had been completely assassinated. Bodies lay in shadows, throats cut or skulls crushed. Professional work. Silent work.
Nolan stepped over a pool of dark red blood that had already frozen into ice on the cold pavement. His boot came down on the other side without breaking stride. He stood before the castle gate, massive wooden doors reinforced with iron.
His voice emerged low through the communication channel, directed at the Stormtroopers who had just finished hiding the last sentinel's body. "Continue. Except for ordinary civilians whose identities have been confirmed, leave no one alive!"
The command was absolute. Uncompromising.
The Stormtroopers immediately split into two teams, tactics flowing from training. Half moved toward the small gate set into the castle wall. The other half headed for access points to the wall's top.
Seconds passed. Then the massive castle gate before Nolan shifted. It opened slightly, just wide enough to create a gap. A gap perfectly sized for power armor to pass through.
He immediately drove his armor forward. Through the opening. Into the castle courtyard beyond.
At this moment, muddy yellow lights illuminated the space from fixtures mounted above. The illumination was poor, creating more shadows than clarity. But adequate to reveal the scene.
Several slightly old-fashioned armored vehicles sat facing the castle gate. Defensive positioning. The light machine guns mounted on their roofs and the rocket launchers placed nearby all aimed toward where Nolan now stood. Metal barrels gleamed with cold luster, promising death.
But the soldiers responsible for manning those weapons would never fire again.
They'd been chopped into fresh pieces of meat by the large Catachan sabers wielded by Stormtroopers. Body parts scattered across the courtyard, still steaming in the cold air. Heat rising from opened flesh created wisps of vapor that drifted upward.
The professional brutality was impressive. Quick. Efficient. Thorough.
"Report to the leader, there are no survivors left, and the front hall of the castle has been occupied by us." The information report from the Stormtroopers transmitted through the communication channel, voices calm despite the carnage they'd created.
Nolan stepped forward, his boots squelching slightly through pools of blood. He seemed completely indifferent to the human corpses scattered all over the ground. Death was a tool. Nothing more.
He turned his metal helmet, scanning the courtyard with tactical assessment. His voice emerged calm and measured. "This kind of ancient castle usually has a dungeon structure. You continue to clear the enemies in the upper rooms, and I will explore alone downstairs."
He paused, adding a critical qualifier. "If you encounter an enemy or a superpower who cannot be assassinated, I allow you to use a grenade launcher to make a quick decision. After finding the target person, you can choose to evacuate quickly."
Hearing Nolan's order, the Stormtroopers moved without hesitation.
They carried their large Catachan sabers in ready positions, blood still dripping from the blades. Power armor engaged, they continued their advance. Moving upward through the castle, heading toward the upper floors where more guards waited unknowingly for death.
Nolan turned in the opposite direction. His power armor carried him deeper into the castle's interior, descending toward where dungeons traditionally resided. Downward. Into darkness.
He stepped into a narrow corridor, the passage barely wide enough for his armored bulk. Dim light filtered from inadequate fixtures, creating pools of shadow between weak illumination.
Then he heard it. A series of heavy footsteps, coming from far away but approaching. Unsteady. Irregular. The gait of someone impaired.
Within the range of Nolan's eyepiece, enhanced vision resolved the source.
A pot-bellied officer in green uniform walked toward him. The man moved drunkenly, weaving slightly from side to side. His face was flushed, eyes unfocused. A bottle dangled from one hand, nearly empty.
The officer hadn't noticed Nolan yet. The "Invisible Man" ability held, perception sliding away. The drunk man's eyes looked directly at the armored giant blocking the corridor and saw... nothing.
Nolan's metal helmet turned slightly. Assessment completed in microseconds. Threat level: minimal. But still an obstacle requiring removal.
His magnetic boots stomped on the ground. Once. Twice. Building momentum.
His whole tall body exploded forward, rushing toward the enemy like black lightning that suddenly lit up in the dim corridor.
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