The forest held its breath.
Branches creaked softly, leaves shifted with the movements of creatures too small to see. Fog hugged the trunks, sliding through the air in long, pale strands.The trees loomed in silence, hiding the towering walls of Area 959—an off-the-map military base tucked deep in the wilderness.
At exactly 2:00 AM, the silence felt unnatural — like the night itself was holding its breath.
A low hum, soft but growing.
Metal against metal. The rumble of a CyberTrain, rising like a distant growl.
Out of the shadows it came—sleek, armored, silent. Its silver hull reflected the platform's floodlights, slicing through the fog. Soldiers lined the station, their boots planted, rifles gripped tight. None spoke. None blinked.
At the center of their formation stood a sealed glass box, veiled in a red cloth.
Inside: The Last Crown.
Four had already disappeared—without trace, without sound. Not even a single witness. It was as if something had erased them from existence.
This time, the military had one goal: move the final crown to a hidden location before it vanished too.
Even inside the walls of Area 959, something was wrong. The air felt heavy. Still. As if the base itself sensed what was coming.
The soldiers stood tall, but the silence between them buzzed with unease. They were trained to fight enemies. But this? This wasn't war.
The stillness felt unnatural, as if the shadows themselves were holding secrets too old to speak.
Something that might already be here.
Arrival of Commander Henn
A soft clang of boots on metal broke the tension.
Commander Henn stepped down from the train. He was broad-shouldered, calm-eyed, and carried the weight of too many battles behind his silence.
The soldiers saluted as one.
Henn returned the salute with precision, his gaze sweeping across the faces before landing on the glass box. A terrible weight pressed against his chest.
This wasn't just a theft. This was an eradication.
His voice, deep and unwavering, cut through the silence like a blade.
"We all know why we're here."
His words carried across the platform.
"Every nation is facing the same crisis. Kings. Princes. Presidents. They're not just losing their crowns—they're losing their lives."
A murmur rippled through the ranks.
"We're not facing an ordinary enemy. This isn't just another war. This… is annihilation."
The soldiers stiffened. Some tightened their grips on their rifles. Others glanced at the treetops, where shadows flickered unnaturally.
Henn's gaze darkened.
"Facing an enemy I can see, a gun I can aim at – that's a fight I understand. This… this unseen threat chills me to the bone in a way no battlefield ever has."
He exhaled.
"A special unit was assigned to investigate the missing crowns."
His voice dropped.
"They were gone."
A cold wave of fear washed over the soldiers. Some took shallow breaths. Others felt the sweat beneath their helmets.
"We are up against something greater than we ever imagined."
Henn's jaw tightened.
"And we now know one thing."
A pause.
"They are already here."
The command came swift and sharp.
"MOVE—NOW."
The Escape Begins
The CyberTrain's doors hissed open. Squad Force A and B rushed inside, securing the Last Crown in the reinforced carriage at the center. Meanwhile, Squad Force C prepared for aerial support, boarding three helicopters—two Bell 360 Invictus and one Door Gunner.
Commander Henn turned to Captain Touri, the train's operator, who leaned casually out of the locomotive window.
Touri smirked.
"What brings you here, Commander?"
Henn placed a hand against the cold metal of the train.
"I'm staying behind."
Touri's smirk faded.
"You sure about that?"
Henn's eyes never wavered.
"I need to check the surveillance feeds. If they break in, I'll track their movements and set up a counterattack."
Touri hesitated, then extended a hand.
"Stay alive, Commander."
Henn gripped it firmly.
"You too, Captain."
As the CyberTrain roared to life, its engines hummed with power. The train surged forward, slicing through the night.
Above, the helicopters followed.
For thirty minutes, there was only silence.
Then—
Touri felt it.
A chill crawled up his spine, colder than the night air.
The hum of the train suddenly sounded too loud, too alone.
The fog outside had thickened—not drifting, but pressing against the glass like it wanted in.
The tracks ahead glinted under the headlights, clean and undisturbed.
But his breath caught.
He couldn't hear the forest anymore. No owls. No insects. Not even wind.
A pressure settled behind his eyes, like the moment before a lightning strike.
His knuckles whitened against the console.
Something wasn't right. Something was
watching.
He exhaled.
"Something's about to happen…"
The Encounter.
Then—three figures dropped from the sky like fireless stars, landing so hard the tracks cracked beneath them.
Above, in the Door Gunner helicopter, Sergeant Max saw it first.
He peered through his scope—and his blood ran cold.
"I SAW SOMETHING!"
The pilot's head snapped toward him.
"What?! Where?!"
Max lowered his scope.
His face drained of color.
"Three… three figures. Standing on the tracks."
His throat tightened.
"They're waiting for us."
The pilot's knuckles turned white.
"Does the Captain know?"
"No! He can't see them yet!"
Max gripped his radio with shaking fingers.
"Captain! Three unknowns on the track—repeat, three unknowns! The rails are fractured! Requesting immediate orders!"
Touri's expression didn't change.
"Deploy the Bell Invictus."
The Battle Begins
The two Bell 360 Invictus helicopters surged forward, missiles locking onto the targets.
On the railway, one of the figure smirked.
Then—
Missiles screeched through the sky, shaking the forest as fire and smoke rolled out in waves that stank of burning rubber and scorched earth.
A relentless barrage of missiles tore through the night, ripping open the landscape. Fire roared across the ground, turning soil and steel into molten wreckage.
For two full minutes, the bombardment continued.
Then—
The dust settled.
And the figures were still standing.
One of them—the one on the left—had vanished.
Then—
BOOM!
One of the helicopters EXPLODED MID-AIR.
The wreckage spiraled down, crashing into the earth with a thunderous roar.
The surviving pilot screamed.
"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!"
He fired again—but before the rockets hit, it detonated mid-air, stopped by an invisible force.
Then—
His tail rotor shattered.
The aircraft lurched, spun once—then detonated mid-air, raining wreckage like burning shrapnel.
And above them, a figure floated.
Cloaked in shadow and firelight, motionless as the world below erupted in chaos.
He slowly lifted a hand, brushing specks of ash from his shoulder with quiet disdain—like dirt from a throne.
A flick of his wrist.
A scorched rotor blade clanged to the earth beside him.
He didn't flinch.
"Hmph…"
His voice cut through the smoke—smooth, contemptuous.
"Humans build machines to defy the heavens, yet they still fall like insects."
Max—watching through his scope—felt his entire body seize with terror.
Then he saw it. Etched into each eye—gleaming, ancient.
A Crown Mark.
(皇) in the left. (帝) in the right.
The word: "Emperor."
Japanese script. Older than memory.
Max's breath hitched.
"C-Captain… it's them…"
His fingers trembled against the radio.
"IT'S THE CROWN EMPERORS!!!"