**Chapter 723: Hammer of the Highlands**
**Scene 1: Northern Highlands – Umbara**
The *Accumulator*-class assault ship descended through the upper atmosphere, staying carefully outside the capital city's long-range missile envelope. Dagon Marek stood in the primary deployment bay, Wrath Shield armor already shifting around him. The durasteel mask gleamed coldly under the red combat lighting.
"Wrath Shield: Cannon mode," Dagon commanded.
The armor responded instantly. Heavy plating thickened across his chest, shoulders, and limbs, forming a massive, brutal exoskeleton. Dark energy coils pulsed along reinforced channels. This configuration turned him into a living siege engine — virtually unstoppable once launched, designed for overwhelming frontal assaults against large targets.
The dropship ramp lowered. Warden-class dropships screamed past, laying down suppressive fire while Mandalorian and Duros marines fast-roped alongside the 21st Nova Corps. Large numbers of AT-RT scout walkers deployed from the gunships, their agile legs hitting the ground running. The walkers charged straight into the Umbaran militia lines, their lighter laser cannons flashing. Umbaran tanks fired electric current-based weaponry, but the AT-RTs' superior agility let them dodge, flank, and strike from the sides with devastating effect.
AT-XTs followed from the rear, their heavier armor soaking up plasma fire, while Grizzly tanks rolled forward, their main guns thundering.
Dagon stepped to the edge of the ramp, the bulky Cannon-mode armor humming with contained power.
"This map has a ridge at 23 degrees north, northwest," he transmitted across command channels. "Good. We use it as a staging area. That's it! Take 'em round right! Keep moving. We've got to claim that ridge."
Clone troopers and marines surged forward.
"Just get us as close as you can!" a Mandalorian sergeant shouted. "Let's go!"
"All right! Wipe 'em out! Get them!" another voice roared over comms. "Too many of 'em!"
"Out of the way! Take it down, take it down! Take it down! Go, go, go! Give it to 'em!"
Dagon activated the launch system. "Cannon engaged."
He launched.
The Wrath Shield's thrusters unleashed 500,000 pounds of thrust, turning him into a dark-powered missile. He streaked across the battlefield at terrifying speed, virtually invulnerable in this mode. Umbaran hover tanks — sleek, single-pilot vehicles with twin electromagnetic plasma cannons mounted on rotating conducting vanes — tried to track him. Their powerful blasts could wipe out entire platoons, but Dagon smashed straight through their formation like a cannonball.
One hover tank attempted to rotate its vanes for a point-blank shot. Dagon slammed into it at full speed, crushing the armored pod and sending the wreckage tumbling across the highlands. He bounced off the debris, thrusters correcting trajectory, and plowed through another group of tanks, leaving a trail of twisted metal and plasma fires in his wake.
The Umbaran militia scattered in panic as the Dragon tore through their lines. Behind him, clone infantry advanced under the covering fire of AT-RTs and Grizzly tanks, securing ground meter by bloody meter.
**Scene 2: Captured Ridge**
Commander Bacara, CC-1138, stood at the top of the newly secured ridge, surveying the carnage below. The 21st Nova Corps had taken the position with surprising speed. At Mygeeto, he had watched Jedi lead reckless, glory-driven charges with little regard for long-term strategy. Here, under Dagon Marek, it was different — flawless execution. The Dragon led from the absolute front, personally eliminating major resistance while trusting his troops to handle the flanks and rear.
Dagon approached, the heavy Cannon-mode armor retracting slightly as he powered down the thrusters. The durasteel mask turned toward Bacara.
"What are our losses?" Dagon asked, voice distorted but steady.
Bacara checked his datapad. "Ten AT-RTs, three AT-XTs, two Wardens. Eighty troops confirmed KIA, ninety wounded. One Grizzly disabled. On the bright side, we captured about fifteen of those hover tanks intact when the enemy surrendered after you… rolled through them, sir."
Dagon looked out over the battlefield. Over one hundred Umbaran hover tanks lay destroyed or burning. Conservative estimates put Umbaran dead at twenty thousand in the first day alone.
"Excellent work for a first day," Dagon said. "Have the troops rest and set up a forward camp. Secure the ridge perimeter. We push on the capital shield line tomorrow."
Bacara saluted sharply. "Yes, sir."
Dagon stepped away from the command post. "Wrath Shield: Spike mode."
The armor shifted again. Black and greyish-black plating replaced the bulky cannon configuration. Large shoulder pads with glowing blue spikes emerged, along with spiked forearms, gauntlets fitted with retractable grappling hooks, and sharp spikes running down his back and legs. Two retractable dark-charged whips extended from his arms, each tipped with a turbofied spike.
This mode granted him ninja-like agility, wall-climbing capability, and the ability to weaponize dark energy into devastating spike attacks. The whips could grab, slash, or swing him across the battlefield at high speed.
"Establish control," Dagon ordered. "I'm going for recon."
Bacara watched the Grand Master leap off the ridge, spikes digging into rock as he descended rapidly. The blue spikes on his armor glowed faintly against the shadowed Umbaran landscape. Dagon fired a whip, latching onto a distant cliff before swinging forward with incredible momentum. He moved like a shadow across the highlands — fast, silent, and lethal.
Bacara turned back to his officers. "You heard the Supreme Commander. Dig in. Get the wounded stabilized and the captured tanks examined. We're not losing this ridge."
As night fell over Umbara, the 21st Nova Corps dug defensive positions. In the distance, flashes of plasma fire still lit the horizon. Somewhere out there, Dagon Marek hunted alone, gathering intelligence on the capital's defenses.
Bacara allowed himself a rare moment of respect. Under Dagon, the Galactic Marines weren't just cannon fodder for Jedi ideals anymore. They were part of something sharper. Something that might actually win this war.
Far below the ridge, Dagon landed silently atop an Umbaran outpost, blue spikes retracting. His red photoreceptors scanned the enemy positions. The planetary shield glowed in the distance, protecting the capital. Tomorrow, they would break it.
For now, the Dragon watched. And planned.