Intergalactic conquest with an AI-Chapter 412: Necrotech world. {5}

Tyty was about to deny the request outright. "Negative. The orders are clear—" But then a new priority notification flashed across his internal HUD. A message from the commander herself. "Permission granted. Allow him two guards. Continue with caution."

Tyty recalibrated and adjusted his reply. "Correction. The commander has approved your request. You may bring two bodyguards of your choosing."

"Marvelous! Truly marvelous!" the middle-aged man said with exaggerated cheer. He turned back toward the vehicle, his voice booming again as he shouted, "Martin! You’re with me. Bring one more with you! we’re going in."

A moment later, the door of one of the armored rovers opened, and a young man stepped out; it was the same cocky soldier from earlier. His armor was nearly reflective, completely untouched by dirt or damage. His expression, however, was one of pure annoyance.

"I got it, old man. Let’s get this over with already," Martin grumbled while lazily rolling his neck as he walked toward his superior with slow, swaggering steps.

Another mercenary, quieter and more professional-looking, followed close behind, giving a quick nod to the guards as he took position behind Martin.

The three of them lined up before Tyty and his Aegis escorts.

"This way," Tyty said flatly, turning without another word.

The heavy metal doors of the Kaelzar Outpost began to close again with a grinding hiss behind them.

From the outside, the rest of the mercenaries could only watch the gates seal shut like the maw of a giant beast, swallowing their commander and his chosen guards into the belly of a fortress ruled by machines.

The very moment the middle-aged man stepped through the massive metallic entrance of the Kaelzar fortress, his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes widened, not out of admiration or awe in the traditional sense since this place wasn’t beautiful in any warm or welcoming way... but because of the sheer military power that surrounded him.

All around, stretching deep into the interior of the fortress hangar, stood rows upon rows of intimidating machines. Thousands of heavily armed robots stood completely still, like statues made of steel and death.

Their polished armor glinted under the cold, artificial lighting, and each one of them held a weapon that could tear through organic soldiers like paper.

What truly made his stomach twist was the terrifying war machines placed among them. For every twenty soldier-like robots, there stood one towering bipedal tank like a mechanical monster with cannons for arms and thick, layered armor that could probably withstand orbital bombardment.

The ground seemed to hum slightly beneath them, as if their weight alone pressed down on the earth.

Above, in the shadowed ceiling of the massive hall, dozens of war drones zipped through the air in silent formations. They moved like vultures circling a battlefield, their sensors glowing faint red as they scanned and patrolled, ready to unleash death from above at a moment’s notice.

The entire scene screamed power... calculated, overwhelming, unstoppable power. It was the kind of military might that could flatten cities, the kind only a handful of factions on the planet could dream of matching.

Behind him, Martin and the third escort were unusually quiet, their helmets turning slowly as they took in the army around them. Even the cocky young soldier could feel the difference in scale here; his power armor felt like a toy in comparison to the machines around them.

Tyty, walking in front of them, didn’t glance back or say a word. He wasn’t concerned about their reactions since he had seen them a thousand times before. More importantly, his commander, Lyra, had already instructed him to Let them see.

"Let them feel the weight of our strength. If they came with an agenda, this might change it."

Eventually, they passed into the heart of the outpost, entering a structure that felt completely different from the war-torn exterior. It was the only major building inside the base, the only command hub.

But unlike the cold, brutalistic design of the rest of the fortress, this inner chamber looked more like a futuristic luxury mansion. The walls were smooth and polished, covered in sleek dark metals and warm lighting that made it feel strangely cozy.

But even here, signs of recent damage were clear.

Repair drones moved quickly along the walls and ceilings, fixing burnt panels, replacing damaged circuitry, and sealing cracks left behind by whatever had recently attacked the place.

The middle-aged man’s eyes narrowed as he took it all in.

{So they weren’t spared either... They were hit by those same bastards that attacked us...} His thoughts were interrupted when Tyty came to a halt in front of a massive door reinforced with thick alloy plates.

With a hiss of hydraulics and a deep mechanical groan, the door opened, revealing a freshly rebuilt command room. It was a mixture of war room and control center, with a massive table surrounded by high-backed chairs, several wall-mounted holoscreens, and a central projection terminal showing a 3D map of the planet.

Tyty stepped inside first and gestured without emotion.

"Enter. Take a seat. The commander will arrive in a few minutes."

Then, like a sentry returning to post, Tyty walked behind the central chair in the room and stood perfectly still, becoming once again the immovable, unreadable machine the Kaelzars were known for.

The middle-aged man hesitated for a second. The room felt too calm, too quiet. But he forced himself to walk forward and took a seat at the table, trying to appear relaxed even though he could feel the weight of hundreds of tons of steel and surveillance bearing down on him.

Martin and the third soldier stayed close behind him, standing guard... but it was clear to all of them... here, they were not in control.

Here, they were guests in the den of giants.

The three guests waited inside the command room for several long minutes. The only sounds came from the faint humming of the electronics and the occasional click from the drones repairing the outpost.

The air was tense, filled with the silent weight of anticipation. Martin shifted on his feet while the middle-aged man stayed perfectly still, his eyes scanning the room with a veteran’s patience.

Then, finally, a door on the far side of the room slid open with a soft hiss. What stepped into the room wasn’t what they expected.

A beautiful young woman entered, no older than her early twenties in appearance. She stretched lazily as she walked in, her slender arms reaching overhead, and let out a loud yawn, baring two sharp, gleaming fangs without the slightest concern. Her eyes, glowing a deep and vibrant crimson, glanced lazily around the room.

She wore nothing but a sleek black bodysuit, the kind designed to be worn underneath power armor. The skin-tight material shimmered slightly under the overhead lights, showing off her athletic frame and smooth, unblemished skin.

Her long silver hair spilled down her back in a wild, untamed mess that told anyone with eyes that she had clearly just gotten out of bed.

To most, this would seem unprofessional or even careless but to Martin, it was as if time stopped altogether.

He stood frozen, completely entranced.

"A living legend... a natural beauty..." he whispered under his breath, loud enough for only himself to hear.

His helmet visor scanned her almost instinctively, running diagnostics. The results flashed before his eyes.

100% organic.

No cybernetic implants. No artificial enhancements. No surgical upgrades.In this age of war and machinery, of artificial limbs and synthetic organs, such purity was practically extinct and was rarer than diamonds, rarer than untouched stars.

Meanwhile, the older man, the experienced mercenary commander, focused on something very different. As soon as he caught sight of her crimson eyes and those unmistakable fangs, a chill ran down his spine.

"...Blood Clan," he muttered under his breath.

But his whisper didn’t go unnoticed.

Lyra’s ears twitched slightly, and her glowing eyes flicked toward him with mild amusement. She had heard both their whispers loud and clear. She could’ve commented on Martin’s awestruck mumbling but decided he wasn’t worth the teasing, at least not yet.

Instead, she addressed the older man. "Oh? So you recognize my kind?" she said, her voice remaining calm but carrying a weight that made the room feel heavier.

The mercenary leader gave a polite smile and lowered his head slightly in greeting. "Ah, forgive my bluntness. It’s just rare to see someone from the Blood Clan holding a command position. Most of the ones I’ve encountered... were either criminals or slaves. Many were sold as elite assassins to noble families or corporations."

His voice was soft, respectful, even elegant but the words themselves were cutting.

He had just implied that Lyra, like many of her kin, was nothing more than a glorified servant, like a weapon passed from master to master.

Lyra, to her credit, simply chuckled. There was no anger in her tone, but the sharpness in her smile made her fangs glint again.

"Hah. I get why you’d think that," she said easily. "Our people tend to keep to the shadows. The ones you’ve seen? Probably outlaws or traitors sold at auction." freewēbnoveℓ.com

She shifted her gaze just slightly, looking beyond the man and toward the shadows behind him.

Her smile dropped.

Then, with a casual wave of her hand, she sighed. "Stop. I’m sure this guy didn’t mean it that way."

The middle-aged man blinked, confused.

{Stop?}

Then he felt it... a freezing sensation crawling down the back of his neck like ice water. His instincts screamed at him. Something unseen, something lethal, had just drawn within striking distance.

It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing something was behind you... something really dangerous and eager to kill.

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