Intergalactic conquest with an AI

Rex turned his head to take in the full might of his forces assembling just outside the ship. His elite legion stood ready; they numbered in the thousands of towering Tyrant units, their frames humming with restrained violence.

Massive Mauler Juggernauts rumbled across the field, their cannon arms already locked and loaded. And behind them, casting a long and ominous shadow, hovered one of the newly deployed Wrath Drone Carriers, its underbelly crawling with swarms of death machines ready to deploy.

With a thunderous flap of his gleaming, armored wings, Rex launched himself into the sky and landed heavily atop the Wrath Drone Carrier. The wind howled around him as the heat of the engines pulsed beneath his feet.

At that very moment, a formation of gunboats and heavy frigates broke through the golden glow of the late-afternoon sky. Like celestial beasts descending from the heavens, they came down slowly but with purpose, casting long shadows across the battlefield. Each one was here under Cleo's command, ready to lend their strength to Rex's offensive.

The gunboats bristled with advanced anti-aircraft weaponry, perfectly suited to keeping enemy fighters at bay. Beside them, the heavier frigates hovered in position, their cannons primed to unleash hell on the infected hordes below. These frigates were designed to decimate infantry lines and provide crucial ground support.

As Rex stood at the highest point of the carrier, gazing over the vast landscape filled with enemy troops, mercenaries, and monstrous infected, a powerful swell of pride surged in his chest.

The sight of his entire army arrayed below... all of them battle-ready, fearless, and waiting only for his command... was enough to make his heart pound harder in his chest.

He inhaled deeply, steadying his breath and calming the storm of emotion within him. Then, raising his massive, gleaming claymore to the sky, its edge catching the light, he pointed it straight toward the enemy.

"201st Legion Elite Field Army!" Rex roared, his voice echoing like thunder across the field. "Advance!"

Like a tidal wave of power and steel, 50,000 elite Tyrant units, each one hardened, trained, and fused with cutting-edge technology, surged forward in perfect unison. The ground trembled under their coordinated march as the great battle truly began.

Meanwhile, inside a dimly lit tent covered in digital maps and flickering holograms, Volkong suddenly appeared in a flash of blue light, using his instant-movement ability to appear before Valxir and the rest of the command staff.

The meeting was tense since seated inside were not only the top generals of the mercenary coalition but also the newly arrived officer of the Lizardman army, the so-called "Collector Dogs."

"Boss," Volkong said quickly while brushing dust from his shoulders, "those machine bastards are making a huge move. It's not just a skirmish force; they're going all in. You want us to act on it?"

Valxir, sitting at the head of the table with a bored expression, leaned forward slightly and looked at him. "What's their number?"

"Our scanners and recon drones estimate at least 30,000 strong," Volkong replied while frowning. "But jamming is intense, very high-level stuff. We can't confirm the exact numbers, but it's big. Real big."

Zanar, seated nearby, nodded grimly and turned to the towering Lizardman general sitting silently to his right. The reptilian warrior was a fearsome figure, over 2.6 meters tall, made of pure muscle, with hardened green scales that shimmered like armor. His muscular form was completely exposed; no helmet, no exosuit, no oxygen tanks.

The reason was simple: his species had no lungs. Their internal systems consumed raw food and chemically converted it into breathable energy. They released the waste materials through their skin, meaning they needed to keep it exposed to avoid poisoning themselves.

Instead of armor, they relied on high-energy personal shields and the natural resistance of their scales that were as strong as forged steel.

Zanar gave a slight smirk. "Looks like it's your time to shine, my cold-blooded friend."

The lizard general hissed softly while his golden eyes glowed. "Hisss… Very well, mercenary. A contract is a contract. We'll engage the machines head-on, just as agreed."

He rose from his chair with slow, deliberate steps, the sharp claws of his feet clicking softly against the metal floor as he made his way to the tent's entrance. His presence alone exuded menace.

Valxir gave a lazy wave. "Yeah, yeah… don't worry, scales. We'll hold up our end of the deal. You focus on not dying out there."

Thankfully, the Lizardman didn't catch the dismissive motion as he exited.

Outside, the sounds of war were growing louder, engines roaring, artillery warming up, and the sharp whine of fighter craft circling overhead. The battle between the armies of man, machine, mercenary, and monster was about to reach a new level of chaos.

Contrary to what Cleo had anticipated, the first to ignite the flames of all-out war weren't the massive armies marching on the ground, but the skies themselves.

Without warning, the heavens erupted into chaos as squadrons of fighters from both sides clashed in a deadly dance above the battlefield. Missiles screamed through the air, laser trails crisscrossed the clouds, and the sky turned into a killing field. It was no longer a place of flight; it had become a graveyard for machines.

Burning wreckage rained down from above. Some fighter crafts exploded mid-air, becoming fireballs that lit up the sky before slamming into the ground. Others spiraled wildly, crashing into the soil with enough force to carve small craters.

A few lucky pilots, or more accurately, lucky machines, managed crash landings that offered a second chance… though survival was never guaranteed. Not when the infected roamed the battlefield like starving beasts.

For the Kaelzars, the loss of a fighter was hardly significant. Each one was piloted not by a living being, but by a basic combat AI that was loyal, efficient, and easily replaceable. Cleo had personally designed these AI pilots, ensuring total coordination across the army.

But their enemies weren't so fortunate.

Every time one of their fighters was shot down, it meant a real, living pilot was gone. A trained soldier lost. A living casualty.

Yet the sky war was just a brutal prologue. The real show was about to begin.

The Kaelzar ground army of fifty thousand strong finally thundered onto the frontlines like a wall of steel, energy, and fury.

"Tyrant units, charge!!" Rex's voice boomed from above as he soared in the sky, flying steadily just above his troops.

At his command, the Tyrants responded with deafening roars and a stampede of motion. These were no ordinary soldiers; they were walking tanks. Each one towered over a human, heavily armored, and equipped with devastating weaponry.

They surged forward at nearly 70 kilometers per hour, tearing across the battlefield with terrifying speed and precision.

Any infected unfortunate enough to stand in their path were either blasted into pieces or sliced down without mercy. The Tyrants didn't slow down. They didn't hesitate. They were machines of war, and they were designed for this exact moment.

Traditional battles usually involved careful positioning, infantry forming lines, artillery setting up in the rear, and armored units like tanks moving cautiously forward and then falling back. But the Kaelzars didn't play by those rules.

Because the Tyrants were the tanks.

They didn't need support vehicles or cover. They were the vanguard, an unstoppable, unrelenting, and devastating vanguard.

The distance between them and the mercenary defensive lines was closing fast. But the enemy wasn't idle.

The mercenary army had dug in, and their commanders were shouting orders as thousands of soldiers took position behind barricades, trenches, and armored vehicles. Tank engines roared to life. Artillery systems locked onto targets.

"Sir! Visual confirmation! They're already here!" One of the mercenary scouts shouted from behind the lines while his eyes widened with panic.

"They're coming fast!"

"Stop screaming and open fire! Fire! Fire!" An officer shouted back while raising his laser rifle and opening up on the incoming wave.

The defensive lines lit up with torrents of gunfire, energy blasts, kinetic rounds, and explosive shells that tore through the air. One of the Tyrant units, charging at full speed, was hit head-on by the barrage.

Sparks exploded from its armor, its limbs shattered under the focused fire, and its massive frame collapsed into a heap of scrap metal.

But it was just one.

Behind it came hundreds more. No... thousands.

Without slowing, the Kaelzar army stormed forward. Some units leapt like beasts, using their powerful legs to vault over trenches and barricades. The battlefield trembled as they reached the front line, and then all hell broke loose.

One Tyrant unit made a massive jump and came crashing down inside a mercenary trench. Its landing cracked the ground, and before the defenders could react, it began ripping through them with its bare hands. Soldiers screamed as they were torn apart like ragdolls. It was a slaughter.

But just as the Tyrant reached for the massive rifle mounted on its back, ready to rejoin the charge, something slammed into its face with earth-shaking force.

The blow sent the machine staggering.

Metal groaned. Sparks flew. The Tyrant slowly turned its head, gears clicking and whirring as it processed what had hit it.

And there it was, standing tall and unflinching... a towering lizard warrior.

He was even taller than the Tyrant, his green-scaled body rippling with muscle and covered in a shimmering personal shield. He wore no armor, no helmet, just the strength of his own species and centuries of battle experience in his eyes.

With a deep hiss, the Lizardman drew back his arm and prepared to strike again.