Charles Takes Command

The city of Nereida was in chaos. Civilians were either in hiding or fleeing, while soldiers held the defensive line against the unknown creatures that had emerged from the gaping hole in the city center. The announcement of martial law had only confirmed what everyone already knew—the situation was out of control.

Then came the moment of relief. A sleek hovercopter descended onto the military command center, its engines humming with precision. As the craft touched down, the tension among the soldiers eased. General Charles had arrived.

He was no mere officer barking orders from a safe location. Charles was a warrior, a strategist, and above all, a leader who had built his reputation through action, not words. Born on the rough streets of Marc, he was later taken to Jupiter by his mother, a woman who had shaped him into the man even Jupiter's most hardened officers feared. He had fought in wars, led countless battles, and now, he was here, in the heart of Nereida, ready to see the situation with his own eyes.

The moment the hovercopter lid hissed open, the stationed soldiers immediately lined up on both sides, standing at attention with crisp salutes. Charles stepped out, his sharp gaze scanning the battlefield ahead. He sighed. This was worse than he had imagined.

Without hesitation, he strode into the command center. Inside, it was pure chaos. Officers ran frantically between stations, issuing orders, gathering intel, and trying to make sense of the crisis. When they saw the General, their movements slowed slightly, each of them offering a salute before continuing their tasks with renewed focus.

Charles walked to the large central screen and took a seat. He needed to see the situation for himself. The first feed displayed aerial footage from reconnaissance drones hovering over the massive hole in the city. Strange, pulsating energy radiated from within, and creatures unlike anything humanity had seen before crawled out of its depths. Their forms were grotesque—twisted amalgamations of limbs and armored plating, their glowing eyes scanning the ruins of the city as if hunting for something.

On another screen, a group of soldiers worked together to move the shattered remains of one of the creatures. It had fallen from the sky, having been struck down by heavy artillery fire. A promising discovery. That meant physical attacks could work on these monsters. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Nearby, a team of researchers was already deep in discussion, reviewing samples and forming theories. Some debated the creatures' origins, others theorized about their biology. Were they truly alien? Were they biological weapons? No one had answers yet, but they were determined to find them.

Charles leaned forward, hands clasped. He had seen countless battlefields, but this… this was different. If they didn't act fast, the city wouldn't just fall—it would be erased.

And he refused to let that happen.

General Charles watched the live feed as the drones hovered over the battlefield. The alien creatures continued to emerge, and their numbers were growing. Soldiers fought relentlessly, but every bullet, every missile, only delayed the inevitable.

He stood, eyes sharp. "Status report."

An officer snapped to attention. "Sir, casualties are rising. We've confirmed that conventional artillery is only slowing them down. However, the large ones remain virtually untouched."

Charles nodded. This wasn't sustainable. The longer they waited, the worse it would get. The officers and researchers turned toward him, hesitant but expectant. They knew what he had to do.

One of the scientists hesitated before speaking. "Sir, if—if we use the orbital laser…"

The room fell silent.

Everyone knew the risks. The orbital weapon was their strongest option, but it had a critical drawback—it took hours, if not days, to recharge. They had one shot.

"Do it," Charles ordered.

The command center erupted into action. Officers relayed the order to the control station in orbit. The satellite shifted its position, aligning itself with the battlefield. A warning signal flashed across every military screen: "Orbital Strike Imminent."

On the battlefield, soldiers fell back, scrambling to safe zones. The sky darkened as the satellite charged. A low hum reverberated across the city. Civilians who had been watching from hidden corners held their breath.

Then, the sky burned.

A pillar of white-hot energy descended from orbit, striking the alien-infested zone. The impact was immediate. Buildings collapsed. The ground shook as fire and debris erupted skyward. A blinding flash consumed everything in its path.

It was over in seconds.

When the dust settled, everyone turned to the screens, desperate for the results. The smoke cleared… and reality struck them hard.

The smaller creatures were gone—obliterated. But the larger ones?

Still standing.

Burned, scarred, but alive.

A heavy silence filled the command center. The orbital laser had failed.

The officers looked to Charles, waiting for orders. They all knew—this attack couldn't be repeated anytime soon. The weapon needed to recharge. Panic slowly crept into the room.

Then, a buzz.

Charles' personal smartphone vibrated. An encrypted message appeared on his screen. His eyes narrowed. It was from an old friend—someone he hadn't heard from in years. The message was simple:

--[ /\ CHILD OF DESTINY /\ ]--

"Find the past.

The future is rusted steel." 

--[ /\ CHILD OF DESTINY /\ ]--

Charles didn't hesitate. He turned to his officers. "Where's the military museum?"

Confused glances were exchanged. One officer hesitated before answering. "West Sector, sir. But why—"

Charles cut him off. "I am Issuing a new Mission"

Charles had no time for hesitation. He turned to his officers with a sharp command.

"Get me a direct line to the Jupiter Defense Fleet. We need a special ops team for retrieval. Hand-pick the best."

The officers scrambled into action. Within minutes, encrypted calls were made, and Jupiter's elite units were being assembled.

Deep within Jupiter's Grand Military Complex, alarms rang. Elite soldiers, handpicked from various divisions, were summoned. These weren't ordinary troops. These were Void Operatives—a special forces unit trained in low-gravity combat, urban warfare, and high-stakes extraction missions.

Inside a darkened briefing room, their commanding officer—Commander Ren Voss—stood before them. A hardened veteran with cybernetic enhancements running down his spine, he surveyed his squad.

"Orders just came in. General Charles himself is leading this mission, and we're backing him up," Voss announced, his voice cold and steady.

The soldiers stood at attention, awaiting further details.

"Our target—an ancient military museum in Neraida. We are to retrieve all ballistic weapons. That includes everything from AK-47s, M4s, M16s, MP5s, old sniper rifles, RPGs—anything metal-based."

The room was silent for a second. Then one soldier muttered, "The hell are we gonna do with antiques?"

Voss didn't even blink. "You don't need to know. The General wants them, so we bring them."

No more questions. No one questioned Charles.

Time Passed like a fly. Ancient military museum in Neraida.

The drop-pods screamed through the sky like comets, breaking through Neraida's atmosphere. The Jupiter Defense Fleet's special unit descended in perfect formation, touching down near the abandoned military museum.

General Charles was already waiting for them, standing near a convoy of armored vehicles. His coat flared slightly in the wind as the soldiers landed.

"Move fast," he ordered. "We don't know how much time we have before those creatures expand there zone again."

The squad stacked up at the entrance. The museum is very close to nightmare gate that sound of Nightmare can be hear time to time, but that didn't stop them. A breach charge was set.

BOOM.

The metal doors were blasted open, revealing a dust-covered arsenal of the past. Rows of weapons, from the old world wars to modern-day firearms, lay preserved in glass cases and storage rooms.

The soldiers moved quickly. MP5s, M4A1s, M16s, SPAS-12 shotguns, LMGs, bolt-action snipers, RPG launchers, grenades, magazines of ammunition—everything was stripped from its resting place.

One soldier ran his hand over an old Desert Eagle. "Feels weird touching these after all I only saw them on history books."

Another picked up an RPG-7 and smirked. "Now this brings back some history lessons."

Voss barked out orders. "Less talking, more looting. Load everything into the transports. We're bringing the past back to the battlefield."

The team worked with ruthless efficiency. Crates of weapons were carried out, stacked into the armored vehicles. Within minutes, the entire museum was stripped of its arsenal.

General Charles stood at the entrance, watching as the last weapons were loaded. He exhaled, gripping an Ak47 from the museum's collection. It was a relic from another era—an era where war was simpler.

The convoy sped back toward the battle station, loaded with crates of old-world firearms. Soldiers inside were silent, checking their weapons with uncertain hands. The AK-47s, M4s, and other relics of war felt alien to them. No plasma, no railgun tech, no smart targeting—just pure mechanical power.

General Charles sat at the front, loading an M4A1 with practiced ease. The way he racked the charging handle, checked the magazine, and shouldered the rifle made it clear—he wasn't just a commander. He was a soldier, through and through.

One of the younger operatives, Lt. Soren, hesitated, looking at the AK-47 in his hands. "Sir, these things don't even have recoil dampeners or auto-tracking… how the hell are we supposed to fight with them?"

Charles didn't even look at him. He simply raised his rifle, aimed at a distant metal panel, and fired three quick shots.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

All three rounds hit dead center. No auto-aim. No tracking. Just pure skill.

Charles turned to the squad. "Plasma rounds are useless. These monsters absorb energy. Physical Attack seems to working on them. We cant start throwing rocks at them. nor I want my solder boxing with them"

No one questioned him after that.

The team arrived at Sector 6, an abandoned industrial site where the Nightmare Beasts had started pouring in from the unknown rift. Twisted, shifting shadows lurked in the fog, their monstrous forms barely visible under the dim floodlights.

Then—movement.

A Nightmare Creature lunged out of the darkness, its distorted body made of writhing, sinewy tendrils and a grotesque humanoid shape.

One of the soldiers panicked and fired a plasma shot.

The bolt of energy vanished on impact, absorbed instantly. The monster screeched, its glowing red eyes locking onto them.

"HOLD!" Charles roared. "Switch to ballistics!"

The squad scrambled, raising their M4s and AKs. Charles didn't wait. He took point, stepping forward with his M4A1 raised. The creature charged.

Charles fired first.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three 5.56mm rounds slammed into the creature's chest. Unlike plasma, these didn't vanish. They tore through its flesh, black sludge spraying from the wounds.

The monster staggered.

The soldiers, seeing the effect, finally opened fire.

A barrage of 7.62mm and 5.56mm rounds shredded the creatures as the team unloaded their magazines. The noise was deafening—old-school gunfire filled the battlefield, unlike anything heard in centuries.

The first creature collapsed, its writhing body twisting violently before turning into black ash.

It was dead.

For the first time, the Nightmare Beasts bled and died like real enemies.

The squad was still in shock. Plasma, lasers, railguns—none of it worked. But an AK-47 from 1947 just killed a monster from another dimension.

Charles smirked. "DC, Hmm, I owe you again, I guess.. Now keep firing."

More creatures emerged from the shadows.