Terra Aeterna: The Rise of Humanity's War Machine

Three days had passed.

Kenthelion slowly opened his eyes, still wrapped in the thick covers and the warm embrace of Yuriko Takagi and Ada Wong, both sleeping soundly by his side. The grand bedroom was silent, save for the soft whisper of wind brushing through the tall palace windows, rustling the drapes gently.

With a careful motion, Kenthelion slipped out of bed without waking them. He stepped out quietly, leaving the two women resting in peace. As he made his way into the palace lounge, his eyes immediately landed on Miyamoto Rei, Takagi Saya, and Miyamoto Kiriko gathered casually on the sofa. A servant discreetly leaned in to inform him that the girls had been there since early morning, apparently discussing something of considerable importance.

But before Kenthelion could greet them, he was suddenly ambushed—playfully, yet with visible concern—by Angela and several of the younger girls. Their worried little faces tugged at his arm with exaggerated urgency, as if afraid their older sisters might be "sacrificed" again like on the previous nights. Besides, Kenthelion had promised to spend the whole day with them—and these little ones knew exactly how to collect on a promise.

And so, the day was spent in joy. Kenthelion roamed the palace grounds with Angela and the other young girls—exploring the gardens, playing in the low-gravity simulation arena, and laughing in the training hall that had been temporarily transformed into an impromptu playground. Their laughter echoed through the middle floors of the palace, a melody of peace and innocence.

As night approached, Kenthelion returned to the study—a vast chamber lined with shelves of ancient tomes, star charts, and administrative command panels. He sat down, massaging his temples, and signaled a servant to bring him a cup of tea. But the moment of peace was short-lived.

A Caelestis Empire officer burst into the room in a rush. His uniform was dusty, his breathing labored, and his expression tense with urgency.

Kenthelion rose, eyes sharp as a blade.

Kenthelion

"What is it? Why the urgency?"

Imperial Officer

"My deepest apologies, Your Majesty! One of the alien fleets has breached our front-line defenses—those established by Supreme Commander Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed. They're now attacking our new colony world on Vultaria Magna IX."

Kenthelion

(voice cutting like thunder)

"What did you say? Those alien bastards dared to slaughter civilians there?"

Imperial Officer

"We're deeply sorry, Your Majesty! We have ships available, but we're short on pilots, combat commanders, and ground units to fully operate the system. Most of our personnel are either still in training or deployed in other sectors."

Kenthelion

"Send the nearest Space Marine chapter to Vultaria Magna IX—immediately. And from Terra Aeterna, dispatch a fresh wave of troops from the newly recruited military divisions. I'll find a long-term solution to reinforce our ranks."

Imperial Officer

(respectfully)

"Understood, Your Imperial Majesty!"

As the officer departed, Kenthelion clenched his fist and slammed it into his desk. The Aetherion-based energy table cracked and exploded, unleashing a burst of psionic energy that struck the walls and rippled outward like a shockwave across the palace.

In the capital city of Terra Aeterna, anyone attuned to aura or energy sensitivity could feel the rupture. Nobles, guards, and civilians alike began to murmur—fear spreading like wildfire. They knew one thing with certainty: when the Emperor was enraged, war was not the only outcome... retribution was inevitable.

Across the military command posts, soldiers scrambled into motion. Emergency sirens blared. Troop mobilization commenced without hesitation. The colony of Vultaria Magna IX would be defended—or avenged.

Meanwhile, far from Terra Aeterna, in the orbit above Vultaria Magna IX—before the main alien strike could descend upon the human colony...

-----

VULTARIA MAGNA IX – A Few Days Before the Invasion

Vultaria Magna IX.

A frontier world on the far edge of the Caelestial Imperium—still young, largely untouched by the mechanical hands of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Yet, full of promise. One day, it might become a keystone of the outer sectors.

Its population hadn't yet reached 300 million—mostly civilian settlers, technicians, and reserve troops from the wandering worlds of the Earth diaspora. The colony's survival hinged on three main hubs:

Hive Precincts to the north – the center of logistics, command, and light industry.

Agri Sector in the eastern valleys – sprawling fields where grox were herded and bio-grain harvested.

The Sanctified Relic Site in the southern Sabathiel Mountains – a sacred region tightly guarded by the Adeptus Ministorum, and occasionally visited by pilgrims from nearby systems.

At the logistics dock of Hive Gamma, Darnic Vortan stood tall, watching cargo lifters and servo-haulers shuttle supplies with precision. His presence stood out—broad shoulders clad in the steel-gray uniform of the Mechanized Legion, an M35 short-pattern lasgun slung across his chest. A lightweight adamantium canteen hung from his left hand, and a flak helmet was tucked beneath his right arm.

A burst of childish laughter made him turn.

In the distance, two identical girls ran across the loading yard, wearing the dirt-streaked uniforms of Agri Sector kids. In their hands, they clutched a worn-out green Ork doll—stitched together from repurposed plastic scraps by the local manufactorum.

Darnic

(smiling broadly)

"Alina! Elina! Don't forget—we're having dinner together tonight. I hope your kitchen hasn't run out of Model M rations!"

Alina & Elina (in unison)

"Uncle Darnic! Promise you'll come! Mama said she's making grox stew and flamer-bread!"

Their laughter was pure. Unspoiled. The outside world hadn't touched them yet.

> Darnic gently tapped his helmet, eyes shifting to the rose-colored sky in the west. Calm. But to a seasoned veteran like him, that kind of calm only meant one thing:

A storm was coming.

Darnic

(voice softening)

"Sorry… I've got patrol duty tonight."

He bent down, ruffled one of their heads affectionately, then turned and slowly walked away—his silhouette merging with the towering shadows of the cargo lifters.

---

The Concordia IX Legion uniform he wore was the standard issue of the Astra Militarum:

Metal-gray tones, reinforced flak armor made of lightweight steel alloys, thermoplas layers, and carbon fiber mesh. His Cadian-model helmet came equipped with vox-link and an optional rebreather module—just under two kilos, compact and reliable.

His primary weapon was a short-pattern variant of the standard-issue lasgun:

M35 M-Galaxy Short Pattern Lasgun—a particle-beam firearm designed for light operations and mid-range combat. Specifically crafted for colonial defense units like his, who rarely had access to weapons of mass destruction.

---

Tech Specs:

Weight: 2.3 kg

Length: 900 mm

Firing modes: Semi-auto & Full-auto

Rate of fire: 220 energy shots per minute

Power source: Megathule rechargeable power cell

No plasma guns. No Basilisks. No orbital support.

Just the front-line sentinels—armed with grit, discipline, and lasguns—guarding the Imperium's gate against the endless void.

Darnic's Outfit Appearance



Mira & Lira

"Alright, let's play!"

The two other little girls—Mira and Lira—cheerfully patted Alina and Elina's backs. Without hesitation, the four girls darted out of the village, running eastward under the warm glow of the afternoon sun. They veered into a wide sunflower field, a golden ocean that shimmered and swayed. Their laughter rang out, light as air, as their feet danced between tall petals. Alina and Elina each clutched a green Space Marine doll—worn toys pieced together from leftover manufactorum scraps—bouncing as if chasing after the galaxy's heroes.

But that beauty shattered in an instant.

The sky split open.

Thousands of crimson-lit objects blazed through the atmosphere like meteors from hell, bringing no hope in their wake. The sound of a collapsing sky devoured their joy; Alina and Elina fell, eyes wide, their bodies frozen amidst sunflowers that no longer offered peace.

---

[Vox Broadcast – Vultaria Magna IX, All Surface Sectors]

> "In the name of Terra and under the authority of the Adeptus Administratum, entrusted to me by the High Lords of Terra—

I, Planetary Governor Lorentheus Halvar, hereby declare that the world of Vultaria Magna IX has officially entered status: CODEX RED — Primaris Combat Readiness.

Unclassified armed entities have breached orbital perimeter. Initial detection confirms enemy formations are entering the atmosphere along the western subpolar arc and southern belt.

All Planetary Defence Force units are to initiate emergency protocol as dictated in the Book of Judgment, Article 117. Priority redeployment sectors: Hive Precincts, Agri Sector, and the Consecrated Relic Site.

All civilians are required to proceed to designated protection shelters. Noncompliance will be considered treason against the Imperium.

Pray to the Emperor. He watches us all."

---

Amid the sunflower field now lit by the crimson glow of annihilation, Darnic Vortan emerged from the ruins of the outer dockyard. His breath was ragged. Without a word, he scooped up Alina and Elina in his arms, shielding their small bodies from the dust beginning to sear the air.

Darnic:

"Quick! Tell your mother to hide inside the Civilian Protection Vaults! Don't come out—no matter what happens!"

He didn't wait for a reply. Darnic charged toward the Hive Precincts, cutting across evacuation routes clogged with panicked civilians. Once the girls were safely inside the CPV, he glanced back once—then turned and sprinted toward the main defense base.

The first blast hit.

---

Low Orbit – Vultaria Magna IX

Inside the observation deck of the flagship Zerapharion's Talon, General Vael'Shiin Karaz'Thel stood in silence. The towering reptilian figure wore a rune-etched war robe and bone-plated armor—relics of the Ancient Wars. A plasma-organic cigar burned slowly between clawed fingers.

He gazed down at the green-blue world below, eyes gleaming with ambition.

He had never lost. Never been captured.

And today, that would not change.

Vael'Shiin Karaz'Thel:

"It's time to reclaim the world they stole."

Around him, thousands of Zeraphari warships and transports launched from hangars—carrying pirates and mercenaries from across the sector, beings of all species, breeds, and allegiances.

Zeraphari Troops (shouting):

"GLORY TO THE ZERAPHARI RESTORATION ARMY!"

---

Planetary Governor Lorentheus Halvar (via Main Vox Broadcast):

> "People of Vultaria Magna IX—sons and daughters of the Imperium! Behind us stands the legacy of mankind. Before us lies a merciless darkness!

We will not retreat! In the name of Terra and the Emperor—we will endure, to our last breath!"

---

[Lore Note]

Vultaria Magna IX is home to a colony of descendants from Europe and the Pacific region of the Wandering Earth universe—relocated to the Nihilum Aeternum dimension following a massive inter-universal exodus. Its people are resilient, battle-hardened, and carry a long legacy of survival and war.

---

Hive Precincts Defense Sector

Sgt. Kevin – Astra Militarum:

"Michael! Lock onto the enemy's seventh formation! Get the Hydra guns on the main air corridor!"

Lascannon fire crackled in the distance. Alarms screamed endlessly. The air reeked of fuel, burning metal, and raw fear.

Planetary Governor Halvar:

"Have the astropathic transmissions to Terra been sent?! We need command orders from Segmentum Tempestus or we'll be crushed in silence!"

Vox-Officer:

"Transmission was sent, Lord Governor! But... there's been no response from the Astropath Choir. They might have... been silenced."

---

Meanwhile…

Wave after wave of Xenos creatures swept across the surface like a stellar tsunami. M-G Short Pattern Lasguns—standard particle-beam rifles from Concordia IX—fired in rapid bursts, flooding the battlefield with energy shots.

But there were too many. Too fast. Too relentless.

Every soldier knew: this wasn't just an invasion.

It was an extermination.

And the question now wasn't if the Astra Militarum could hold.

It was:

How long can 400,000 men stand against millions—without heavy artillery, without orbital support, and without any hope of rescue?

Seneschal Varhiel: "Reload every Chimera and Munitorum hauler! Move out the heavy weapons, servo-platforms, and all remaining medical reserves! The battle's shifting to the surface—and that's where our last hope lies!"

His voice cracked through the Central Strategium like a warhammer against steel. Officers and servitors rushed into motion, obeying without hesitation. Tactical displays flickered with logistics alerts, signaling the emergency rerouting of the evacuation fleet.

Astropath Transcendent (voice trembling, glowing pupils unfocused):

"Lord Seneschal… I'm detecting a surge in bio-mass around the Civitas Vaults. Xenos presence is rising exponentially. Local militia are holding for now, but... the pressure's building."

Astra Militarum Officer:

"Chief Seneschal! What are your orders?"

Seneschal Varhiel (eyes sharp, jaw clenched):

"You want orders? Then hear this—hold the line. Until the last body becomes a wall for mankind!"

With his helmet in hand and laspistol at his belt, Varhiel stepped out of the safety of the Strategium. His shoulders square, his honor-cloak trailing behind him as he left behind the cold comfort of concrete and circuitry—for dust and blood.

"I'd rather die on my feet in battle… than rot alive behind a desk."

His words echoed through the corridors, igniting resolve in every soldier who heard them. Like iron through marrow, the phrase spread across every command channel. In moments, non-essential personnel took up arms, bolstered defenses, and fortified key positions.

---

Vox-Officer (broadcasting across strategic loudspeakers):

"Citizens of Vultaria Magna IX! This is an official command from Planetary High Command! Evacuate to your nearest Civitas Vault! Military personnel will escort each zone! For the Imperium—FOR THE EMPEROR!"

In Hive District XIV, a grizzled old militiaman in a torn uniform stood atop a bullet-riddled Leman-pattern utility truck, megaphone raised in a trembling hand.

---

Alina & Elina:

"You have to come with us, Mister Space Marine!"

The girls clung tightly to their green Space Marine dolls—tattered mementos of safer days. In the chaos of evacuation, they boarded a Munitorum Transport alongside hundreds of civilians. Cries, screams, and the roar of engines created a choking symphony of panic.

---

Hive Precincts – High-Noble District, Vultaria Magna IX

The grand hall, filled with golden statues and sacred banners, stretched toward a vaulted ceiling where candlelight shimmered in iron chandeliers—flickering with each distant artillery blast.

A young nobleman ran breathless into the hall.

The Young Noble:

"Father! The defense alarms are blaring! The Xenos have broken through the Hive's sky! We have to move to the shelters—now!"

Before he could finish, a small candelabrum was hurled his way. It struck a marble pillar and shattered, scattering fire and metal.

Beneath a towering statue of the Emperor stood an elder man clad in crimson ceremonial robes, a glowing bionic eye piercing the candlelight. In his hand: a command staff crowned with the Aquila.

Patriarch Lancelot:

"Run away? If our blood has yet to stain the Hive floors, then we have not proven our faith! If I am to die today, then at least two Xenos beasts will follow me to the grave!"

He raised the ancestral family weapon—a bolt pistol adorned in gold-bone inlays and inscribed with the war-prayers of generations past.

Patriarch Lancelot (continued):

"Through sacrifice, House Lancelot earned its place on this marble. Under His Divine Light, we ascend not as beasts—but as true men!"

He turned to his son, his voice like a blade drawn.

"Send the women and children to the Civitas Vaults. Every man—arm up. We will not be remembered for hiding, but for how we stood."

(With iron conviction):

"Prove that the blood of Lancelot has not grown weak. For the Emperor. For our honor!"

With steady steps, he saluted the statue of the God-Emperor bathed in candlelight, then turned to join the house's loyalists—forming the noble family's final line of defense in the marble halls.

House Guards and Nobles of Lancelot:

"For the Emperor! For House Lancelot! For the Imperium of Mankind!"

All remaining combat forces had been redeployed to the Hive Precincts sector. The streets became arteries of logistics and evacuation, clogged with Munitorum trucks, chimera convoys, and desperate souls. Rifles were reloaded. War machines howled. Battle-prayers echoed from field chapels, cast through crackling loudspeakers. In the blood-red mist and the ashen rain of orbital debris, the Xenos pressed forward—slowly, but inevitably. Their advance was not just an assault. It was a promise: death was coming. And the sky bore silent witness to the arrival of annihilation.

---

[VOX-OFFICER – Public Broadcast | Tone: Militaristic, Fanatical]

"Attention all civilians of Vultaria Magna IX! This is an absolute-priority command from Planetary Defense Command!"

"The battle will take place along the Hive's outer perimeter! For the honor of the Imperium and the protection of our sacred relics, immediately proceed to the nearest Civilian Protection Vault! Any delay will be treated as treason against the Emperor Himself!"

"For Terra. For the Imperium. For the Emperor! TAKE SHELTER—NOW!"

---

A PDF trooper, his face streaked with dust and fresh cuts, stood atop a partially scorched Munitorum vehicle. Gripping a Vox-Mek loudhailer, he barked commands and pointed to branching evacuation corridors.

Below him, thousands surged and stumbled in chaos: citizens, off-world colonists, agri-serfs, scribes of the Administratum, and countless children—panic had overridden all remnants of protocol.

Within the human tide, Alina and Elina clung tightly to the hand of their mother, Saraphina. Their battered but intact green Space Marine dolls remained gripped in their small hands. The curiosity that once danced in their eyes was gone—replaced by a silence thick with fear. They didn't yet understand death... but they could already smell it.

Saraphina, once enslaved by Xenos and freed only by the blood of the Emperor's Angels, now led her two daughters down the collapsing corridors toward a Hive bunker. Her face bore old scars—whip lashes from a time of chains—and a stoic resolve carved from years of never having a choice.

---

Above the Hive, the sky had turned a bruised shade of crimson-black, like a festering wound torn into the belly of the universe. The thunder of orbital bombardment sounded like the dying breaths of a world about to fall. Plasma fire lit the horizon like the dawn of a hell never meant to be seen.

Both sides were ready.

On one—the armies of mankind, praying through gritted teeth, steel boots, and their last magazines.

On the other—a tide of Xenos: soulless, feral, and unrelenting. They hadn't come to conquer. They had come to erase.

War was no longer a matter of if.

It was destiny—waiting for its signal.