"Understood!" the six warriors responded in deep voices.
The unit moved out swiftly.
The alternating sounds of magnetic boots against forest soil thudded with rhythmic heaviness. Occasionally, the faint grinding of chainsword gears echoed like a low, ancient war chant.
Although orbital drones had not yet launched, imagery from ground recon drones was coming in clearly.
To the north, the dense forest began to taper off, revealing human structures at the edge of the open plain.
Buildings stood scattered along winding streets, the town appearing capable of supporting a population of around fifty thousand.
It was not an abandoned ruin, but rather a settlement brimming with life—yet the images transmitted showed no signs of people or vehicles.
This made Leroia's brow furrow slightly.
Her gaze deepened as her fingers tightened around the hilt of the power sword at her waist.
"Advance."
At her command, the Glory Legion warriors' forms slipped into the shadows of the forest, closing in on the mysterious town ahead.
Within the depths of the forest, light and shadow intertwined.
Leroia and six Glory Legion warriors moved silently among the trees. The forest air was so fresh it felt nearly translucent, filled with the scent of pine and soil, laced with moss and wildflowers.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, forming patches of dappled light that swayed in the breeze—like countless tiny golden scales floating in midair.
Wild animals occasionally darted through the underbrush.
Several deer drank from a distant stream. Upon sensing the heavy footfalls, they perked up and bolted into the woods like a gust of wind.
Above, a hawk circled and cried out, its gaze sharp and cold.
Rabbits darted through the shrubs, vanishing into the shadowy layers of fallen leaves.
All signs of life confirmed that this was not a barren wasteland, but a vibrant land teeming with energy.
At the same time, Leroia relied not just on her eyes—her helmet's internal holographic screen projected a high-resolution, real-time stream of data.
In the upper left, a miniature radar blinked with dots, mapping out terrain and friendly positions.
Roughly 1,200 meters to the west, another power-armored recon squad was patrolling. Their route crisscrossed with the Glory Legion's but maintained a tactically safe distance for mutual fire support if necessary.
The top right corner scrolled environmental parameters—
The atmospheric composition matched standard human-habitable conditions, with oxygen steady at 21% and air pressure near normal.
Below, the system calculated the sun's position relative to their location. Combined with magnetic field readings, it confirmed their coordinates most likely placed them in northern North America—what was once Canada, on "19-Earth."
The forest grew denser. Trees rose like pillars, reaching skyward like an immovable natural wall.
The warriors of the Glory Legion, despite their heavy armor, moved with unbroken fluidity. Their steps were steady, their breathing measured. The servos of their power armor emitted a low hum with every stride, merging with the rustling leaves—a metallic dirge accompanying this ancient legion.
During their advance, Leroia's visor briefly caught glimpses of recon drones darting through the forest canopy like flocks of birds, constantly transmitting terrain scans.
A flood of images emerged on her helmet display, showing the northern forest thinning gradually.
At last, the horizon unfurled.
The lush green canopy receded, replaced by open terrain.
At the edge of the plain, a cluster of human buildings stood quietly.
Structures lay scattered, roads winding, the layout matching that of a mid-sized settlement.
But the helmet's visual feed showed no people, no cars—not even livestock or birds. It was as if every sign of life had been wiped away by an unseen hand.
Leroia's gaze sharpened, and unease rose in her chest.
"Strange."
Her voice dropped into a low timbre, carrying a natural authority.
Her armored hand subconsciously gripped her power sword's hilt, the cold metal pressing into her palm through the glove, deepening her focus.
"Keep moving."
Her calm command brought instant responses from the Legion warriors.
They quickened their pace.
Heavy magnetic boots left deep tracks in the grass and dirt, occasionally kicking up flecks of mud.
Their formation remained tight—like a phalanx of ancient heavy infantry etching iron-clad resolve into this silent, natural canvas.
Before long, they reached the forest's edge.
A straight highway cut through the forest like a gray-white serpent, winding far into the distance.
The road surface remained smooth. Sound barriers and guardrails still stood—though weather-worn and faded.
Leroia stared down the empty road, a glint of steel in her eyes.
Her radar quickly picked up a rest stop less than four hundred meters away.
The outline of its structures came into view—a few box-shaped buildings still standing beside the highway, their exteriors now half-consumed by vines and moss, swallowed slowly by time.
"Target ahead, four hundred meters." Her voice came through the comms loud and clear.
Seven armored figures stepped forward into the silence, their strides firm and unshaken as they closed in on the time-frozen rest stop.
Their bootfalls echoed down the highway like iron drums.
Moments later, Leroia and her team reached the weathered complex.
The buildings were still clearly identifiable, though the lettering on the signs had been battered by wind and rain. Yet she could still make out traces of English.
The long-lost letters triggered a moment of pause in Leroia's mind.
Since the Empire's founding, the official language had been standardized to Mandarin and Chinese script.
To the Empire's legions, Latin letters were like echoes from ancient history. Yet now, here they were—etched vividly on the signs:
"Welcome to Portage la Prairie."
"Winnipeg · 40km East."
These names, once familiar but now distant, stirred something indescribable deep inside her.
She exhaled slowly and spoke with grave weight: "This is Old Canada—southern Manitoba. The town ahead… is Portage la Prairie."
"…"
The Glory Legion warriors nodded in silence.
Clad in their heavy armor, they stood like steel titans from the future, gazing upon the remnants of a bygone world.
Leroia's expression turned cold once more. She raised her hand and ordered:
"Four on outer perimeter, maintain fire coverage. The rest—enter and search the buildings."
"Yes, ma'am."
Their reply rang through the helmet comms with crisp clarity.
Four warriors immediately dispersed, magnetic boots stamping rhythmically against the concrete as they established a defensive perimeter around the rest stop.
The remaining two accompanied Leroia as they moved toward the buildings.
A motel and gas station stood side by side. Faded signs swung in the wind.
Leroia assigned tasks—two warriors saluted and headed for the motel. She turned alone toward the convenience store.
The moment she pushed open the glass door, the air shifted.
Despite the purification system in her helmet, a nauseating wave of stench slammed into her.
It was the stench of death—thick, sticky, laced with the foul tang of rot.
BZZZZZ—
With the door's opening, a swarm of flies burst outward like a black cloud from the interior.
The beating of countless wings filled the air with an overwhelming buzz that muddied the silence like a storm of decay.
Leroia's expression didn't change—her eyes merely grew colder.
She had seen blood-soaked battlefields and mountains of corpses. This scene could not shake her.
But the flies told the truth—this land was not peaceful, but a festering cradle of rot and bloodshed.
Inside, the store's lights had long since died. Empty shelves lined either wall.
Discarded wrappers rustled softly in the air, whispering like lost souls. A thick layer of dust coated the floor—except for places marked by drag trails and dark, dried stains.
Leroia followed the dreadful trail, stepping deeper into the store.
Thud. Thud.
The sound of her magnetic boots on the floor mixed with the pulsing heartbeat monitor in her helmet—creating a suffocating pressure.
Then, without warning, the image came into view.
A corpse.
Male. About six feet tall. Clothes torn. Face unrecognizable.
His eye sockets were hollow—gouged out. Just raw, mangled holes remained.
His abdomen had been torn open, organs dried and scattered on the floor like discarded trash.
Dark brown blood stained the ground, stinking with metallic rot.
What made Leroia tense, though, was the flashing warning on her HUD—biological residue detected in large quantities on the corpse.
Her gaze turned ice-cold.
The air seemed to freeze around her.
The flies buzzing incessantly in her visor's view grew more disturbing—mocking the fragility of humanity and the fall of civilization.
She stared at the mutilated corpse, fingers tightening slowly around her sword's hilt.
No matter how cold her composure, she knew what this meant.
"Looks like 19-Earth isn't as peaceful as it appeared."
Her voice was a low murmur—chilling and absolute.
Suddenly, her comms blinked—two warriors from the motel reported in:
"Commander, we've found abnormalities inside. Special corpses detected."
"I understand."
This rest stop had unveiled its first cold, dreadful layer.
Leroia stared at the horrific corpse for several more seconds. Then she raised her hand, unclipped a latch at her waist, and retrieved a regulation sample extractor from her pouch.
Click~
A sharp needle extended with a mechanical hiss.
She knelt and plunged it into the dried tissue.
Beep. The device confirmed full sample acquisition.
She sealed it in a container in one smooth motion, then rose to her feet and took one last look around the store.
It was worse than they'd expected.
She thought this silently, then turned and left.
Her radar flashed—the two Glory warriors were marked clearly on the second floor of the motel.
Leroia quickened her pace, magnetic boots pounding on cement, reaching the stairwell in seconds.
The motel's air was no better—rancid, damp, and heavier than the store.
The hallway was dim. Wallpaper peeled. Faded carpet and broken furniture lay scattered. Mold and blood tinged every breath.
On the second floor, a warrior stood at the far end of the corridor beside a half-open door.
His bolter was lowered, but ready.
Upon seeing Leroia, he stood at attention.
"Commander. Two bodies inside."
She nodded and stepped into the room.
The light filtered through broken curtains. Dust danced in sunbeams.
On the bed, two corpses lay bound in chains—limbs strapped to the frame with rusted iron.
Their flesh had long since dried and shriveled. Bone protruded clearly.
The horror was not in how they looked—but how they died.
They hadn't been killed.
They'd starved to death.
Their wrists were raw from struggling. Lips cracked open. Teeth exposed in agonized grimace.
Leroia stepped closer, her gaze like ice.
She studied their faces.
Despite the decomposition, several dark red growths remained near the cheekbones and forehead—raised pustules.
They were faintly arranged in the shape of a cross.
?
Leroia's brow tensed sharply.
"Cross-shaped pustules."
This wasn't simple post-mortem bruising. It looked pathological. A cold intuition surged through her.
Plague.
She mouthed the word in her mind.
"19-Earth may be facing… a plague."
She spun around, eyes locking on the nearby warrior.
"Extract a sample. Now."
"Yes, Commander!"
The soldier moved quickly, removing his extractor.
The hum of machinery returned. The sharp needle pierced rotting flesh and pus, drawing fluid and tissue.
The screen confirmed the sample. It was sealed immediately.
Then—
BANG! BANG!
Sudden gunfire shattered the silence!
Short, frantic bursts. From outside—toward the town. The windows rattled with the shock, as if warning of something lurking ahead.
Leroia's expression turned even colder.
"Move!"
Her order was razor-sharp.
The three of them rushed out. The pounding of magnetic boots rang like war drums in the corridor.
They burst out of the motel and regrouped with the four warriors outside. The squad formed up instantly—bolters and chainswords unlocked, weapon systems glowing coldly to life.
Radar updated—the source of the gunfire precisely marked from town center.
Leroia's voice cut like steel: "Advance formation. Fire at the ready."
The six Glory Legion warriors spread into a dispersed formation. Their armor gleamed in the faint light as a killing aura surged in the air.
It was as if the world itself stepped aside for them.
Leroia led from the front, power sword in hand. The blade trembled in its sheath—hungering for battle.
Their shadows charged straight toward the gunfire.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.