Intergalactic conquest with an AI

A blinding golden laser burst from the barrel of his rifle, tearing through the storm and striking its target with deadly precision. The beam punched cleanly through the windshield, piercing the driver's chest. The man barely had time to react before slumping forward onto the steering wheel, his foot pushing the accelerator.

The patrol car veered sharply to the left, its tires screeching as it spun out of control. It slammed violently into the vehicle beside it, the impact crunching metal and sending sparks flying into the rain-soaked air. Both cars careened off the road, one flipping onto its side with a deafening crash, while the other plowed into a lamppost, its lights flickering and dying.

The convoy behind them screeched to a halt as the guards scrambled to assess the situation. Shouts of confusion erupted, their voices barely audible over the rain and the roaring engines.

Rex smirked, leaning back slightly as he recharged his rifle for another shot.

"Reinforced crystal, my ass,"

he muttered, lining up his next target. Through the scope, he could see the chaos unfolding below, the guards spilling out of their vehicles, weapons drawn, their movements frantic and disorganized.

"Too easy,"

he said, settling his sights on the next driver. His finger tightened on the trigger once more, the golden light of his rifle illuminating the storm-soaked battlefield.

The rain continued to pour, and Rex, as calm as ever, prepared to turn the city guards' reinforcements into nothing more than smoldering wreckage.

"Take cover!"

the high-ranking city guard officer yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. The guards, shaken but responsive, scrambled to follow his orders, diving behind vehicles and overturned debris as the rain pounded down around them.

Rex let out an irritated click of his tongue as he watched through his rifle's scope.

"Tsk, that officer's got brains. Guess I'll have to step it up."

With a casual motion, he pressed the communicator on his neck.

"Phantoms of Squad 201, proceed with the mission. Leave no survivors."

The moment his words were spoken, the shadows around the convoy came alive. Black laser beams erupted from seemingly every direction, slicing through the rain like jagged streaks of midnight lightning.

The Phantom, Kaelzar's elite assassin units, moved with inhuman precision, their attacks swift and unrelenting.

Guards who had taken cover behind vehicles dropped like stones, their positions obliterated before they even had time to react. Shouts of panic turned into screams and then silence as body after body fell in the blink of an eye.

The smarter ones, if you could call them that, crawled under vehicles or threw themselves inside patrol cars, flattening their bodies and staying low. But even those who survived knew it wouldn't last long.

The city guards were never a true fighting force. Civilians with a paycheck and uniforms, hired to maintain appearances for the mayor's corrupt regime. They had no training, no discipline, and no chance against Kaelzar's Phantom units. Fighting assassins bred for war was like throwing stones at a hurricane.

Rex lowered his rifle for a moment, watching the carnage unfold with an almost detached amusement.

"Pathetic,"

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he muttered, before noticing something on the horizon. His smirk faltered as he adjusted his scope.

The faint glow of engines pierced the storm clouds, growing brighter by the second. In the distance, he could see the unmistakable bulk of city army transport ships descending toward the mansion.

"Cleo, hurry it up. The city army's moving in,"

Rex said into his communicator, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

Inside the mansion, Cleo's reply was just as steady.

"Understood. I need thirty more minutes to extract everything we need from here."

She turned her gaze toward the mayor, who was sprawled on the floor before her, his once-pristine suit stained with black blood that oozed from his face. His octopus-like head looked grotesque now, tentacles limp and twitching in pain.

Carlos stood beside him, cool and composed, meticulously cleaning his knuckles with a towel.

Cleo's heels clicked against the marble floor as she approached the mayor, each step deliberate, echoing in the eerily quiet room. She stopped just centimeters away from his head, her towering presence casting a long shadow over him.

The remaining guests in the grand hall, cowering in corners or behind overturned tables, watched in terrified silence as the scene unfolded.

Cleo crouched slightly, her mask gleaming faintly in the emergency lights, and spoke with a commanding voice that carried across the entire room. "

This is the last time I'll ask, Mayor."

Her tone, though not loud, was sharp as steel and twice as deadly.

"Tell me who your contact is. Who gave you the order to send the Blood Clan after us?"

The mayor coughed weakly, his tentacles twitching as he tried to raise himself upright.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about,"

he rasped, his voice trembling.

Carlos's fist smashed into his jaw with a sickening crack before he could say another word, sending him back to the ground in a heap. The sound echoed through the grand hall, drawing muffled gasps from the onlookers.

Cleo didn't flinch. She stood still, her icy gaze boring into the mayor as Carlos calmly folded the bloodied towel over his arm like a waiter preparing for service.

"Don't play games with me, Mayor,

" Cleo said, her voice low but carrying an edge of deadly intent

. "Your guards are dead. Your army's too slow. And the only thing keeping you alive right now is the faint hope that you still have something I want to know. So I'll ask again."

She leaned closer, her voice rising slightly, loud enough for everyone to hear, her words carrying a weight that silenced even the quietest murmurs of the terrified guests. "

Who. Gave. The. Order?"

The mayor whimpered, his tentacles weakly waving in a pitiful gesture of surrender.

"I... I can't tell you,"

he choked out, barely audible.

"They'll kill me if I do."

Cleo tilted her head, her tone cold as the storm raging outside.

"And what exactly do you think I'll do if you don't?"

The room fell deathly silent, save for the faint hum of her Phantoms patrolling the hall, their glowing red eyes like specters of death in the shadows. Outside, the distant rumble of the approaching army drew closer, but inside, all eyes were on Cleo, waiting for what would happen next.

The mayor shuddered, his resolve crumbling as he stared up at her. He knew there was no escape.

"What do we know about the situation at the mayor's mansion?"

The general of the city military asked, his voice sharp enough to make the officers around him straighten instinctively. His second-in-command, standing nearby with a datapad clutched tightly in his hands, hesitated.

"N-Nothing, sir,

" the officer stammered, his fingers fumbling as he scrolled frantically through the feeds.

The general's eyes narrowed, his expression twisting into one of barely contained frustration.

"How is it possible that we don't know anything? No updates, no visuals, no communication?"

He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Losing his composure wouldn't help, not now. His tone was more measured as he spoke again.

"Fine. Then tell me what we do know about the situation outside the mansion."

The second-in-command gulped, his face pale as he glanced back at the datapad.

"Sir, the moment the silent alarm on the mayor's body was triggered, the city guard units responded immediately. They reached the mansion within minutes, but…"

He hesitated again.

"But what?"

the general snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"But… there's been no communication since. No reports, no updates. Their last confirmed position was just outside the mansion."

The general's face darkened as the weight of the situation settled over him.

"They're likely dead already,

" the second-in-command added grimly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Dead…"

The general let the word hang in the air for a moment, his jaw tightening. He turned to his crew.

"Raise the threat level to red and prepare for—"

Before he could finish, the transport ship lurched violently, the cabin shaking with an ear-splitting

boom

. The lights flickered, alarms blared, and the entire vessel tilted sharply to one side as the pilot's voice crackled through the speakers.

"Missiles inbound! We've been hit! Brace yourselves! we're going down!

"

The general barely had time to grab hold of a nearby rail before the transport ship spiraled out of control. Outside the small viewport, the night sky was alive with chaos.

White, darting ships zipped through the air like predatory birds, their sleek forms unmistakable.

Wraith-class fighters.

A swarm of them had descended on the convoy, their missile pods unloading in a relentless barrage that left little room for escape.

The ship groaned under the strain, its engines sputtering before cutting out entirely. With a deafening crash, the transport smashed headfirst into the city freeway below, skidding across the wet asphalt before coming to a grinding, screeching halt.

Smoke and fire erupted from the wreckage, illuminating the rain-soaked night like a beacon of destruction.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the crackle of flames and the distant sound of sirens. Then, with a metallic

clang

, the cargo doors of the transport ship were kicked open from the inside.

The twisted metal creaked as the general emerged, dragging his injured second-in-command out of the wreckage. Blood ran down the side of his face, and his uniform was torn and burned, but his resolve hadn't wavered.

He placed the unconscious officer against the crumbling wall of the freeway, checking briefly to make sure he was still breathing before rising to his feet. The general winced, clutching his side where a shard of debris had pierced his armor. Despite the pain, his focus remained locked on the night sky above.

The battle in the air was unlike anything he'd seen in years. More Wraith-class fighters swooped down, their pale, ghostly forms darting through the city's airspace with deadly precision.

The remaining transport ships from his convoy tried to evade, but it was useless. One by one, they were struck down, their fiery wreckage raining onto the streets below. Continue reading at empire

The general narrowed his eyes, watching as a particularly large fighter executed a flawless strafing run, obliterating a convoy vehicle with chilling accuracy. The ships were too familiar, too precise, and yet… he couldn't place them. Where had he seen these ships before?

His fists clenched as he muttered under his breath,

"What kind of enemy has that bastard mayor pissed out this time?"