The cold, windy morning air bit at the steel of the KV Champions, who stood unmoved for an entire day. Their massive frames were painted with dark, dried blood stains—the "Mechanical Scars" of a brutal history. Steve's voice crackled over the mics, steady and commanding, telling the KV Champions not to worry. He announced that the Imperial Building was being teleported to their location. As the whole army waited at one end of the battlefield, the massive structure suddenly warped through reality, teleporting from Warsaw to the outskirts of Prague.
Ravichandran stepped out of the building and approached Steve, his face tight with concern. "Hey, what has happened? I have heard that a new virus has been discovered."
The Army Chief approached, his boots crunching on the frozen ground. "Yes, it was discovered, and it was killed. But my question is this: do those dried blood stains on the bodies of the KV Champions contain the virus?"
"Definitely, they can contain it," Ravichandran replied, looking up at the towering tanks. "But what do you want to do?"
"We want to do something to kill those viruses completely. Give us a way," the Army Chief demanded.
Ravichandran considered the scale of the infection. "The best idea would be to burn those blood stains or sanitize them. But for such a large area, we cannot use sanitizers. We have to use fire. But why do you want to sanitize the whole of Prague?"
"We don't want to sanitize the whole of Prague," the Army Chief clarified. "We just want to sanitize the area where the KV Champions are standing, as well as the KV Champions themselves."
"Then the best way to do it will be by using flamethrowers," Ravichandran explained. "The heat generated by flamethrowers will not be enough to melt the metal of the KV Champions; it will just heat them, and that is exactly what we want to kill those viruses completely."
As they spoke, Perry emerged from the Imperial Building with Helena. Helena greeted the veteran soldier with a warm smile. "Hello, Steve. It has been a long time."
"Nice to meet you, Helena, after a long time," Steve replied, nodding. "Good morning. And Perry, what are you doing here?"
"I have come here to take some fresh air," Perry said, looking out over the scarred landscape of the outskirts.
Ravichandran turned back to Steve, a new thought occurring to him. "Steve, listen. As I was in the Expedition with KV Reddy, I know what kind of powers he has. He has the firepower which he obtained by killing the Dragon in Badaling, China. I think he can help you."
Steve immediately contacted KV Reddy over the long-range comms. "KV Reddy, I heard from Ravichandran that you have fire powers. Can you create a wave of flames over the whole battlefield, as well as over the bodies of all the KV Champions—including yours? It will help burn the bloodstains off your armour and the ground, cutting off the danger of the virus spreading."
"Okay," KV Reddy replied, his voice echoing with a new, ancient resonance. "Let me use my power."
KV Reddy tapped into the energy he had ripped from the Dragon in China. Suddenly, a massive, swirling column of fire erupted around his chassis, turning the cold morning air into a shimmering heatwave. With a mechanical roar, he unleashed a localized shockwave of flame that swept across the outskirts of Prague like a red tide. The fire licked over the steel plates of every KV Champion, instantly vaporizing the dried, infected blood.
The battlefield was transformed into a furnace for a few intense seconds. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the flames stopped.
Every KV Champion was now glowing with residual heat, their armour steaming in the freezing air. They were "Hot to the touch," but they were finally safe. The soldiers, who had been keeping a terrified distance, began to approach. The virus on the battlefield had been incinerated, though it remained untouched and hungry within the dark, crumbling ruins of Prague itself.
The entire army broke into a deafening applause, cheering for KV Reddy—honouring both his current power and the legendary struggle he endured during the Expedition. But as the cheers died down, the soldiers noticed something special: the intense heat had completely melted the deep snow. The once-frozen battlefield was now a dark, moist, and wet expanse of mud and steam, a stark contrast to the white death that had covered it only moments before.
The Russian army continued its massive trek toward the West, altering their route to bypass the viral nightmare of infected Prague. The Imperial Building remained anchored at the city's outskirts like a steel mountain, acting as a fortified recovery hub to cleanse the region.
Meanwhile, deep within the Munich Industrial Hub, a blinding flash tore through the air. George, Anto, and a dazed Peter Peterson materialized. George's face was twisted in frustration. "We had nearly killed the Yamato," he growled, "but that ship was too strong. They've seized control of the Spanish coastline. Peter, do you even know where you came from? From the destroyed Lashes?"
"I don't have any information," Peter replied, his voice flat and hollow under the weight of Satan's hypnosis.
Anto looked around, his mechanical sensors scanning the shadows for their demonic ally. "Where is Satan?"
"I don't know," George snapped. "He is a weak demon now. Because of his foolishness, he has lost his immortality. But Peter, look—the portals are activated. Your Rowx element was crushed, and the portal is powered!"
"Then let's go to Apache," Peter suggested, his eyes glazed. "I think this is the portal."
The three leaders stepped into the shimmering gateway and emerged in a cold, metallic industrial hub on the planet Apache. "George, where are we?" Anto asked, his processors whirring as they adjusted to the alien atmosphere.
"See there," George pointed. "A worker. He can help us."
Peter approached and gripped the back of the worker's suit. When the man turned, George gasped. "Hello, Arthur. How are you? We need your help. We need geothermal energy—every kind of energy you can provide."
Arthur stared at them, his eyes wide with shock. "What happened to the connectivity? For days, it was disrupted! I couldn't contact you. What the hell was happening in your world?"
After George explained the nuclear outrage and the war, Arthur looked terrified. "This is horrifying. I will provide you everything, including my army. Anto, what do you need?"
"There is a ship in that world called the Yamato," Anto said, his voice heavy with mechanical menace. "It destroyed our whole army, though we nearly finished it. Do you have a battleship to deal with it?"
"I have no battleships," Arthur admitted. "There are few countries here, and we all work together, so there is no need for an army. But do you know about the Sew Building at the Kurkile Plains?"
Peter frowned, a spark of something old flickering in his mind. "That name... it sounds related to something."
"You came from there, Peter!" Arthur exclaimed. "You were hiding there."
"I don't know anything," Peter said, clutching his head. "I have lost my past memories. All I know is that I support the Germans because they saved me."
George watched Peter closely, a dark, suspicious thought crossing his mind. 'This is because of the hypnosis. Before Satan took his mind, Peter must have transferred his memory into a device we haven't found yet. He is a danger to us.'
"Have I lived in the Sew Building?" Peter asked.
"Peter, you are the owner of 99% of all Lashes technology," Arthur revealed. "We have the ancient tech here, but most of it is rusted and useless. We only have 1%. But in that Sew Building, you have the full 100% of the ancient Lashes power. My team is still alive inside that building, but we can't understand the technology. I thought it was a suicidal mission because of the radiation, but the ancient tech removed the radiation from their bodies! They survived, and we found the 99%."
George's eyes lit up with a greedy, "High-Velocity" ambition. "Can we teleport there?"
"Yes," Arthur replied, "but we must contact them first."
"Do it fast, then!" George commanded.
Arthur contacted the team in the Sew Building. He asked, "Hey Luther, is Gary cured of the deadly sickness?"
Luther said, "Yes, Gary was cured because of the special technology of the ancient Lashes."
Arthur then asked, "We want to teleport there. Is every perspective open?"
Luther replied, "Yes, I am opening all the ways so that you can teleport here inside the building. And listen, we have also got some high-tech war machines which were used during the Daroga war. You told me that this building may contain useful information, but this building is actually a complete market of ancient technology. It has a very big bunker which spans over an area of 10 kils, and according to the Earth metric system, it will be 100 acres—a very huge area. It also has a depth of 30 kis, which according to the Earth metric system, will be 300 meters."
Arthur looked at the control panel before him. "With this button, I can teleport all of us," he said firmly. He pressed the sequence, and in a flash of pressurized light, the four leaders were ripped from the industrial hubs of Apache and reorganized inside the silent, cold interior of the Sew Building in the ruins of the destroyed Lashes.
George looked around the massive, shadowy chamber, his eyes scanning the ancient architecture. "Where have we teleported? Which segment is this?"
"I don't know," Arthur replied, his voice hushed as he looked into the distance. Suddenly, he froze. "Oh... see the legendary battleship. I have never seen anything like this."
Anto stepped forward, his mechanical sensors whirring as they struggled to calculate the sheer scale of the vessel looming over them. "Anto," Arthur whispered, "this is exactly that legendary battleship, isn't it?"
Anto looked upward, his neck tilting back to take in the iron mountain that stood before them. "Oh yes," he breathed, his voice filled with a rare sense of reverence. "This is the battleship which I wanted. This was the ship which the Daroga naval army used to fear just to see. Its name is Kangal—the legendary Battleship Kangal."
"It was sunk into the oceans of Spility ten thousand years ago, just before the Daroga War ended," Anto continued, his processors pulling data from the deep past. "After that, a new prototype of that ship was made, but we never acquired it—that prototype of Kangal. This is the only battleship which can destroy the Yamato in just one blow. It has a height of... I have forgotten. I will have to measure it."
George asked Anto, "How did you survive all these years?"
Anto replied, "I have not survived all these years; I have actually survived for 369 years because I saved my information in the supercomputers of the 3D printers. I know only history."
George turned to Anto, his voice heavy with calculation. "What are the specific capabilities of this vessel? What are its true dimensions?"
Before Anto could respond, Peter interrupted, his voice echoing with a haunting familiarity. "She stands two hundred and ten feet in height and spans one thousand feet in length, with a breadth of one hundred and forty feet. This ship is an absolute menace. I remember her well; in fact, I believe I have preserved the remains of her captain within a biological stasis chamber somewhere in the depths of this bunker. George, you inquired about her specialties: she is capable of deploying ten IKL missiles and fifteen KOI missiles. Her primary armament consists of four turrets, each housing a trio of 50cm plasma cannons, bolstered by ten grenade launchers, twenty secondary 10cm cannons, and fifty automated point-defense cannons. She is a fortress that defies destruction; she endured for over forty-three years of active combat and was only finally brought down by a lone Daroga battleship—and even then, only at a catastrophic cost to the enemy."
"And what was the name of that Daroga vessel?" Anto inquired, his digital processors whirring.
Peter exhaled a long, weary sigh. "Thunder Mac Ocean. It was the singular terror of our naval forces. Yet, in the moment of our defeat, we utilized a specialized technology to ensure their ship was annihilated alongside ours. It, too, was swallowed by the annals of the Daroga War. I designed this prototype ten millennia ago, but do not fear the ravages of time; the hull is forged from Wafolium, a unique and impervious allotrope of iron. You now possess the legacy of the Kangal and the history of the Thunder Mac Ocean—though you may simply call the latter Thunder Ocean, as 'Mac' was merely the name of its commander."
George's expression remained cold. "We shall refer to it as Thunder Ocean; I have no interest in honouring a dead captain. Tell me, where is the captain of the Kangal? You mentioned he was preserved within one of your biological chambers."
Peter looked toward the sprawling darkness of the sub-levels. "I must consult my blueprints to locate the exact chamber."
As the four leaders navigated the cold, echoing passageway toward the control center, George turned to Peter. "I understand the ship's primary functions now, Peter, but what of the ammunition? We don't possess the specific missiles required for those launchers."
"Do not let that trouble you," Peter replied calmly. "The stockpiles within this bunker are more than sufficient to arm the Kangal for a century of war."
Anto nodded, his mechanical eyes scanning the reinforced walls. "That is perfect. But tell me, is it possible for this ship to transition to land for a ground assault? Can we mount it on tracks?"
"Impossible," Peter stated, his voice firm. "The vessel is far too massive and heavy. Even if we engineered tracks of that scale, they would simply sink into the crust of the planet. She belongs to the abyss and the horizon, not the soil."
George interjected, his mind already calculating the logistics. "Then the superior method would be to deploy the ship through localized portals."
"Precisely," Anto agreed. He then turned his gaze toward Arthur. "By the way, Arthur, word has reached me that you intend to marry Emilia, the Sovereign Leader of Jagiya. Is that true?"
Peter let out a dry, short laugh. "Even in the shadow of an apocalypse, you find time to discuss your fiancée? Regardless, we have arrived. This is the primary control room." Peter reached for his coat, his expression suddenly shifting to one of confusion. "Just a moment... where is my master key?"
George narrowed his eyes. "I suspect Satan has taken it."
"He would certainly try," Peter muttered, "but for what purpose? No matter."
"Is there no other way to breach the terminal?" George asked.
"There are always other ways," Peter said. He stepped toward a sleek, obsidian panel and pressed his hand firmly against a glowing scanner. The system chimed as his fingerprint was accepted, and a hidden compartment hissed open, presenting him with a set of ancient, crystalline blueprints.
Peter examined the documents with keen interest. "Follow me."
The four leaders marched through the long hallway and entered a high-velocity lift. George looked at the sprawling array of buttons. "Which floor is the destination?"
"Level 55," Peter commanded.
George whistled under his breath. "The scale of this place is staggering." He pressed the button, and the lift surged upward with such force that the leaders felt the high-pressure gravity pin them to the floor. In an instant, the doors slid open at the 55th level.
They stepped out into a cavernous, pitch-black chamber. The silence was absolute.
"Where exactly are we?" Arthur asked, his hand hovering near his sidearm.
"Patience," Peter whispered into the darkness. "The systems are beginning to wake. They will require the master password momentarily, and I am the only one who remembers it. Just wait."
Suddenly, a sharp, synthesized sound hummed through the absolute darkness of the hall. A cold, mechanical voice resonated from the walls: "Who are you? State the password."
Peter stepped forward, his voice steady and rhythmic as he recited the ancient code: "Sayonara valiante kose ko Lahari sila Lohri kurki ko sari Khatri."
A brief silence followed before the computer system responded, its tone shifting to one of recognition. "Thank you, Peter. I knew your voice; even if you had not spoken the password, I would have recognized your frequency. But thank you for the formal verification. Permission is granted."
In an instant, the hall ignited. A wave of light surged from the floor to the ceiling, revealing the true, staggering scale of the 55th floor.
The four leaders surveyed the sprawling hall, their eyes landing on several massive stasis containers. George pointed to a reinforced glass cylinder. "Who is preserved in this container?"
"That is the Captain of the Kangal," Peter answered solemnly.
Arthur gestured toward a smaller, more elegant unit nearby. "And who is she?"
"She is none other than the daughter of the High Leader of the Daroga planet," Peter revealed. "My team kidnapped her and brought her here eons ago. We attempted to extract their military secrets, but she remained silent, even under the most brutal torture. Ultimately, she was of no use to us."
Anto stepped toward a different section of the lab, his sensors locking onto a pressurized canister. "And what is that component?"
"That," Peter said, his voice dropping an octave, "is your Handel."
"My 'handle'?" Anto asked, confused. "I possess no such handle."
"Not 'handle,'" Peter corrected. "I said Handel. It is a word from our native Lashian tongue. It is a virus—a deadly, airborne pathogen that originated on the Daroga planet. We conducted extensive research on the strain in this very room. I still remember my team; they successfully engineered the vaccines before they perished, but I preserved this final sample of the virus."
George waved his hand dismissively. "Let us set history aside. How do we awaken the Captain of the Kangal, and what is his name?"
"You will be astonished," Peter replied. "Watch." He raised his arm and fired a precision blast from his cannon, shattering the reinforced glass of the stasis pod.
As the preservation fluids drained away, the Captain's eyes snapped open. He gasped for air, his gaze darting across the room. "Peter? I am alive? Where am I... and who are these people?" He looked around the high-tech chamber, his voice raspy. "I was preserved, but why? Have you forgotten the law? If a ship sinks, the captain must sink with it. Why did you save me, Peter?"
"Leave all that for now," Peter said, stepping closer. "First, state your name for our guests."
The Captain stood tall, his presence filling the room. "You know my name, Peter. My name is Leviathan."
George stepped back, stunned. "What?"
"You are right to be surprised," Peter said, turning to George. "The 'Leviathan' you know from your world is something else entirely. But the true name of the Commander of my battleship, the Kangal, is Leviathan."
"Astonishing," George muttered.
Leviathan looked at the group, his expression hardening. "Can someone please tell me exactly what has happened here?"
Leviathan stepped out of the broken stasis pod, his eyes narrowed as he focused on the newcomers. "Please, tell me what has happened here. And why are you speaking of another 'Leviathan' in your world? Peter, why are we speaking of another world at all? Does this mean we have discovered a different realm entirely?"
George stepped forward, interrupting before Peter could respond. "No, Leviathan. In our current reality, the name belongs to a demon—a high-ranking entity who serves directly under Satan."
Peter tilted his head, his memory banks clicking. "Oh, really? That fellow with the molten lava bleeding through his veins?"
"Exactly," George answered. "You have the right one, Peter."
Anto shifted his mechanical weight, his sensors humming as he accessed his stored data. "Yes, I am also familiar with the Leviathan of their world. He is a demon who sacrificed his life to the forces of evil hundreds of years ago. I know their history well; his soul was traded for dark power."
Leviathan looked from Anto to George, his face a mask of confusion and ancient pride. "A demon? You compare the Commander of the Kangal to a creature of lava and sin? Peter, the world I remember is gone, isn't it?"
Peter stood before his old comrade and explained everything—the collapse of the Lashes, the rise of the Germans, and the shifting tides of the 13-billion-year war that had occurred since the Captain was placed in stasis.
The ancient Commander listened in silence, his expression hardening as the weight of ten millennia settled upon him. "I understand, Peter," he said finally. "I will support you. I will lend my strength to the Germans because I believe in your vision. But from this moment forward, you will not call me Leviathan."
Peter looked surprised. "Why not?"
"Because that man was meant to sink into the depths of the oceans thousands of years ago," the Captain replied, his voice echoing with a touch of grief. "In truth, Peter, you committed a grave deed by preserving my body against the laws of the sea. But let that pass. From today, my name shall be Captain Frank."
Peter nodded slowly, accepting the new identity. "Very well, Frank. Are you ready to sail upon the open seas once again?"
George stepped forward, a cold smirk of triumph on his face. "Captain Frank, you are once again the commander of the Kangal."
Frank stood tall, his presence filling the 300-meter-deep bunker with a renewed sense of authority. "I accept," he proclaimed. "This time, I will carry the torch. I will recreate the ancient glory of the Kangal across the oceans and seas of Earth. The world will remember the power of the Lashes era."
The End