The mechanical titans stood as silent monuments to a war that had outgrown its creators. The Eradicator Mark 3, a scarred veteran of GDA engineering, stood alone against the three nightmare gods of the Calamity. Its metal frame hissed as the laser blades reached full power, casting a blinding white glow over the blackened carcasses of the fallen.
The Ravager was the first to move. Its massive, clawed feet tore chunks out of the earth as it charged, the screaming "mouth" forged into its chest venting a plume of superheated steam. From its right arm, a torrent of liquid fire erupted, a horizontal curtain of orange and purple flame designed to melt steel into slag.
The Eradicator pivoted with surprising grace for its bulk. It used its back thrusters to strafe through the fire, the white-hot laser blades carving a path through the smoke. It slammed its iron shoulder into the Ravager's rib-caged chassis, the impact sounding like two mountains colliding. Sparks rained down as the Eradicator's wrist-blade bit deep into the Ravager's neck-plating.
From the distance, the Striker let out a resonant hum. Its missile pods tilted upward, the purple-tipped warheads igniting in a synchronized roar. Sixteen missiles spiraled through the air, their exhaust trails weaving a web of toxic smoke across the sky. They didn't aim for the Eradicator—they aimed for the ground around it.
The earth erupted. The sequence of explosions created a localized earthquake that sent the Eradicator stumbling. Sensing the opening, the Contemptor marched forward. It did not run; it moved with the terrifying confidence of a high priest of destruction. Its tattered banner, the Dea Vindiciac, whipped violently in the wind as it raised its jagged bayonet.
The Eradicator roared, its nested flamethrowers opening to blast the Contemptor back, but the armored machine simply walked through the fire. The Contemptor's four-jawed claw lunged out, snapping shut around the Eradicator's dual machine gun and crushing the barrels into useless scrap with a sickening screech of metal.
Locked in a death-grip, the two machines struggled, while the Ravager circled back, its own claw twitching with a mechanical hunger for blood.
Far beyond the borders of the war, where the wind died and the world turned to ice, the Farther Lands sat in eternal silence. A massive Skull Dragon, its bones bleached white by time, rested atop a mountain of remains. It did not breathe, yet it watched.
Beside the skeletal beast stood a Knight. His armor was a map of old scars and scorched plating, absorbing the little light that reached these desolate peaks. He was a statue of iron and shadow, standing motionless as the world burned in the south.
Then, the darkness beneath his visor changed. Two vibrant, piercing red eyes ignited like dying stars. The Knight tilted his head toward the horizon, sensing the shift in the world's balance. The Void was coming, and he was the only one who had been waiting for it.