Storms rolled across the horizon like molten bruises—ash-choked winds and flickering red lightning stretching endlessly across the skies. In the far distance, where the land sank into jagged canyons and metallic bones pierced the soil, smoke curled upward.
Scout teams confirmed it.
The machines were spreading.
Inside Kote'tuur, the war table buzzed with activity. Tactical overlays updated in real time, marking growing territories claimed by other Lords. Most were expanding slowly—cautious and disorganized. But not one.
Designation: Unknown FactionLocation: Southeast WastesRate of Expansion: Accelerating.Dominant Signal Architecture: Mechanized.
Dren zoomed in on the map, lips tight beneath his helmet.
"They're building fast. No organic population signatures. All energy spikes are consistent with droid manufactories and autonomous war factories."
"They took the canyon pass," said Vheyla. "That was neutral ground three days ago."
The Alor stood in silence for a moment. The data streamed past his visor.
Not random growth. Not chaos.
This was an army expanding with purpose. And the only one close enough to be a threat this early.
"They're scouting us too," he said.
Vheyla frowned. "How do you know?"
He turned to her, eyes cold.
"Because if I were them—I would be."
Day 12 – The Population Surge
In the Hall of Founders, the air shimmered again. This time, the summoning cycle pulsed three times instead of once. Across the system, all Lords had received the same notification:
[System Update: Founding Protocol Expansion Unlocked]You may now construct: Populace Summoning Hall – Tier IISummon Capacity: +150 (includes specialists and advanced unit candidates)
The Alor stood in the archway as new figures stepped forward from the glowing light.
Blacksmiths. Technicians. Former deathwatch berserkers. Even a retired Kom'rk pilot.
Their armor was battered, their voices raw, but when they saw him, they knelt.
"Mandalore."
His voice was steady. "No one bows here. Rise."
With the new influx, the Barracks expanded into a full training compound, and a Forgeworks was added beside it—capable of crafting basic starship parts and heavy battlefield armor. Already, his tech-priests were working on stabilizing early propulsion modules for assault shuttles and Basilisk frames.
But the Forge was not just for war.
In the shadow of the new structure, children ran for the first time since arrival—young Mandalorians pulled from the system's memory, guided by a few grizzled instructors.
The Alor watched them from the wall. For a moment, the weight of command gave way to something deeper.
"We are more than our weapons," he said quietly. "We are the ones who endure."
Elsewhere...
Within the scorched world known only as Forge-Hell 3V, Overlord Xalan observed a dozen battle simulations in parallel.
"Organics: inefficient under pressure. Subject to morale decay."
He tilted his optic lens toward a hologram of Kote'tuur, slowly stitched together from probe data. The fortress showed signs of defensive logic, but lacked orbital presence. Its power readings pulsed with irregularity—evidence of a biological interface.
"Conclusion: Biological Lord. Primitive Mandalorian genetic profile detected."
He turned toward the rows of dataflayer units now awaiting upload. Their black shells shimmered with refraction plating.
"Initiate forward disruption. Deploy cloaked scouts. Begin upload of Raider Subnet."
Nightfall – Perimeter Breach
It started with a comms glitch.
Then a sensor blind spot.
Then, one by one, the outer turrets of Kote'tuur began going silent.
Vheyla was the first to reach the command node.
"False negatives. Something's bypassing the targeting grid."
Then the alarms sounded.
Cloaked droids, low to the ground, slipped over the eastern wall. No lights, no heat signatures—only faint ripples on the sand. One reached a turret's control node and injected a needle-thin spike of data.
Sabotage code.
It didn't live long enough to finish the upload. A scattergun barked from the shadows—Dren's shot tore the droid in half.
"All hands—Sector Twelve breach!" he roared. "They're testing us!"
The battle was brief, but brutal. Ten droids infiltrated the perimeter. Only three made it past the walls. None escaped. But one left behind a pulsing data module fused into its chest core.
The tech-priests extracted it in the forge. What they found chilled them.
Holo-recordings. Top-down map views. Audio signatures. AI tactical logs.
Xalan hadn't just attacked.
He had studied them.
The Alor stood in the war room again. This time, the table flickered with overlays of intercepted droid schematics. Siege units. Orbital probes. Mining spiders capable of stripping a mountain in hours.
The time for waiting had passed.
"No more scouts," he said. "Next time, we strike first."
"We take the canyon pass back."