C41 Red Eyed Reapers

"It's the only way."

Lucilla looked away, gripping the edges of her notes tighter, but said nothing further. 

Praetor Varro, ever the professional, cleared his throat and stepped forward, placing both hands on the table as he began to outline our plan.

"The operation begins with a large scale airborne assault. Paratrooper Cohorts will be deployed deep behind enemy lines, their primary objective being the seizure of strategic points, starting with the Teutonica Airfield."

He tapped a marked location on the map, his gaze sweeping across the council. 

"Fifty transport planes, escorted by fighters, will deliver the first wave of the first cohort. Once the airfield is under our control, we establish a forward operating base and await for the second cohort to replace the first one."

The Minister of War, stroking his neatly trimmed beard, grunted in approval.

"This will cripple their ability to maintain air superiority. Good. Continue."

Varro nodded.

"Following the airborne operation, our main assault force will push in from the border."

He pointed to the map, dragging his finger along the indicated invasion routes.

"Five armored cohorts will spearhead the attack, supported by eight half strength infantry legions. Our primary goal is to engage and force the Teutonica government to commit the bulk of their forces to the frontlines."

"And when the capital is left barely defended,"

I mused, taking another drag of my cigarette.

"I strike the head."

Praetor Maximus smirked.

"Decapitation."

I exhaled, flicking the ash from the tip of my cigarette into a nearby tray. 

"I will personally lead the First Paratrooper Cohort and my Death Squad in a direct assault on the capital. Once their government falls, the war ends, all that will be left Is to mop up the diehards"

A low murmur spread through the room, the weight of the plan settling in the minds of those present. The Minister of Industry, removing the pipe from his lips, shook his head slightly.

"A gamble,"

He said.

"But a calculated one. The fewer casualties we suffer, the stronger our position will be after the war."

Lucilla, despite her earlier hesitation, finally spoke up again, voice steady this time.

"Imperator and what if the Teutonica government refuses to surrender, even after losing their capital?"

I fell silent once again, crushing my cigarette into the tray.

"Then we do It the hard way."

The room fell silent. No one had any doubts. No one had any objections. The plan was set. The invasion was inevitable. And soon, the world would bear witness to the rise of a true empire once more.

...

A few hours later

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows against the grand walls of my master bedroom, now serving as my private sanctum.

The warmth did little to ease the cold weight settling in my chest as I stared at the translucent, glowing interface of my system, hovering in front of me.

The soft hum of the interface was the only sound aside from the distant howling of the wind outside.

My Death Squad stood assembled before me, their armored figures motionless, waiting. They had no fear, no hesitation.

Their faith in me was absolute. But even as I prepared to drag them deeper into the abyss with me, I couldn't help but curse under my breath.

"Well, f*ck. I'm definitely hitting five percent with these upgrades."

I exhaled sharply through my nose, fingers tightening around the armrests of my chair as I reviewed my chosen enhancements once more.

Every single modification was a necessity. Any hesitation, any moment of weakness, and the war would turn into an ugly bloodbath. I couldn't afford that.

First were the brain augmentations the same surgeries I had performed on myself weeks prior. My Death Squad, despite their monstrous discipline and honed instincts, were still human albeit emotionally castrated ones by the system.

And humans had limits. These surgeries would rewrite those limits, sharpening their reaction times, processing speed, and spatial awareness beyond mortal comprehension.

Then came the xeno aggression Inducing Serums. A controversial choice, but one I had made the MC use.

The serum would trigger an instinctive, violent response whenever faced with an enemy. Not mindless rage, but a refined, calculated bloodlust an urge to dominate and destroy that would turn them into walking nightmares on the battlefield.

The only problem was that It would make us want to crack someones skull open 24/7.

Next, the cybernetic eye lenses, tactical HUDs that would integrate with our neural pathways, providing real time targeting data, enemy movement predictions, and night vision among other things.

Brain Microchips followed, syncing seamlessly with the HUDs, displaying our vital signs in real time. After all, if we didn't feel pain, we needed another way to know when we were f*cked up, otherwise we would kick the bucket without knowing why.

The cybernetic synthetic combat stimulant Implants were another level entirely. Synthetic glands fused with our nervous systems would flood our bodies with synthetic combat stimulants 24/7.

No need for injections or chemical cocktails in the middle of combat these implants would keep us in peak combat form indefinitely.

Then came the nano carbon tendons a fusion of synthetic and organic muscle fibers that would enhance strength, allowing us to rip through steel doors or crush a man's skull with our bare hands while maki9ng sure we dont tear off our muscles In the process.

Ceramic bone grafting followed, reinforcing our skeletons to withstand extreme impacts, making fractures and breaks nearly impossible.

And finally the last and most critical purchase, eleven Sets of Exoskeleton Armor.

Nanocomposite plating, servomotors enhancing every movement, hydraulic muscle amplifiers ensuring we could lift even more.

Integrated shock absorbers, kinetic dampeners, and embedded radiation shielding. A fully enclosed helmet with an advanced filtration system, protecting against gas attacks, biological warfare, and extreme environmental conditions.

In this current time and era we wouldn't just be super warriors. We would be super juggernauts.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, exhaling slowly before clicking the Confirm button. The interface pulsed, locking in the upgrades. There was no turning back now.

As I hit confirm a deep crimson glow bathed every surface, pulsing like the lifeblood of a g*d awakening from slumber.

It swirled around us, tendrils of energy flickering in and out of existence, wrapping around our bodies before vanishing as quickly as they had come.

Then, a heavy thud.

Eleven massive crates materialized in front of us, each one bearing the seal of the system, their surfaces still humming with residual energy.

For a moment, none of us spoke. We just stood there, adjusting to the raw power coursing through our veins, through our bones, through every fiber of our being.

I shifted in my chair, about to stand up.

CRACK.

I glanced down.

The armrest of my chair had crumbled like brittle wood beneath my grip, splintering into useless fragments in my palm. I stared at the remains for a second.

"Well... sh*t."

I flexed my fingers experimentally. Every movement felt smoother, sharper. The raw strength behind each twitch of muscle was leagues beyond anything I had felt before.

I better get used to my new stats before I end up snapping a chicks neck accidentaly.

I stood, rolling my shoulders, feeling the unnatural lightness in my body despite the dense muscle mass I had gained. Then, I turned my gaze to my men.

"So,"

I said, my voice calm, but laced with the same predatory edge I now felt humming in my bloodstream.

"How are you feeling, boys?"

Zero One, ever the perfect soldier, was the first to respond.

"Like I want to crack an unlucky sod's skull open, Imperator."

The others let out low chuckles, some flexing their hands, others rolling their necks. A few simply clenched and unclenched their fists, reveling in the sensation of raw, unfiltered aggression bubbling just beneath the surface. I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I guess the aggression Inducing serums are kicking in already, huh?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the contibernum, their grins sharp, their and my eyes pupils glowing yellow like a bunch of wana be s*ths a result of our eye lenses.

"Alright,"

I said, stepping toward the crates.

"Let's open these up and see what we're working with."

We didn't bother with crowbars. Like a pack of wild animals, we tore into the wooden crates, our enhanced strength shredding wood like paper.

Panels cracked, hinges snapped, and within seconds, the wooden crates were reduced to little more than scrap wood at our feet.

And there it was. The ultimate warrior's armor.

Each piece gleamed under the dim light, the matte black plating with red and white military camo reinforced with nanocomposite alloys, segmented for full mobility while maintaining near impenetrable durability.

The helmets were works of art in their own right white skull shaped faceplates with round crimson glowing reinforced visors, their eerie features enhanced by the sharp, horizontal crimson roman plumes.

One shoulder pad was adorned with an ornate carving of an armored death reaper covered In spiked medieval armor with a hood, black feather wings holding a pointed down greatsword In a cemetery background. The other bore the insignia of the Iron Fenrir the same as the Imperiums.